Chapter 3
Jill Allen lay on the large, plush sofa in the living room of a house most of her friends would have traded their collective souls for. The fact that she had married Arnold Allen, one of the most successful attorneys in the city, and the fact that he had promised to buy or build her the kind of dream-house most women only do dream about might have been enough to make her happy in the old days. But the frank little talk with Mary Carter-the talk about having an illicit affair with a working-class type male-had made her jumpy as a cat.
She lay now drumming her well-manicured fingers on the edge of the sofa and thinking about what the salesman had said concerning the gracious old Georgian house Arnold had bought for her. She could remember the salesman's very words: Late
Georgian, with a charming fifteen-panel-door enframed by fluted Corinthian pilasters and surmounted by an exquisitely scrolled pediment in the center of which is a gilt pineapple, ancient symbol of hospitality.
"Some hospitality," she muttered, sighing again with the dull frustration of a gal with an impossible mission. "If I could just think of some way of getting a man to be hospitable with!"
It seemed eons before the idea of a plumber occurred to her.
When the idea hit her she sat bolt upright on the sofa, a large grin spreading wantonly across her face.
"Lord, why didn't I think of that right off?" she breathed. "It's practically foolproof. I couldn't have come up with a better idea if I'd planned for weeks!"
She was on her feet instantly, feeling little tingly chills of expectancy starting at her toes and traveling like a lethal dose of Spanish fly up toward her loins.
"Something's got to be wrong with the plumbing, of course," she told herself as she started for the kitchen, "but what?"
It took a little more thinking before she could come up with her second brilliant idea of the morning. In the big utility room at the far side of the kitchen she found the vacuum cleaner, and the full bag attached to it which her lazy maid had chosen not to empty. For once, she was glad that Tillie Mae was a lazy bitch.
With the care and malicious intent of a mad scientist, she poured as much of the collected lint, fuzz, dirt, hair, and scraps picked up from the wall-to-wall fuck carpet that she could down the open drain of the kitchen sink. Then she turned on the water and saw to her satisfaction that not one drop could get through.
"So much for that operation," she said, grinning.
Then she went to the yellow pages of the kitchen phone book and thumbed swiftly over to the classified section dealing with plumbing service. She knew perfectly well how hard it was to get a plumber-worse than a doctor-and so she had to look very carefully until she found the right ad.
"BIG JAKE'S ROOTER SERVICE," she read aloud, her lips twitching in an amused smile. "Complete plumbing service within the hour!"
That seemed just the ticket, and she dialed the given number with a trembling hand. The voice that answered was low, masculine, husky. She gave the address very precisely, then hung up with her heart pounding against her ribs.
Just to be on the safe side, she made another quick call, this one to her husband's office. Arnold's secretary, a catty and arrogant young lady fresh out of secretarial school, gladly informed her that Mr. Allen would be in court all day.
With a gasping little whoop of joy, Jill hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs of the big, lonely house. In her bedroom she whipped out of her clothes and ran a tub of hot water in her private bathroom. She poured three or four different kinds of sweet-smelling oils and bubble bath into the tub, then plunged in and luxuriated a few minutes with the bubbles right up to her chin. The sensuous feel of the warm water and the bouquet of the vaguely erotic perfumes made her blood begin to churn. She could feel the nipples of her long-untouched tits begin to bud and harden.
When she stepped out of the tub, she toweled herself, with a huge grin etching up toward the lobes of her ears. Waltzing naked and glowing back to her bureau, she selected from among a wilderness of expensive bottles just the very cologne needed for this particular adventure. It was something Arnold had brought back to her from a business trip to Paris, and although she couldn't read French, he had assured her that the name meant taste me! Using the little glass stopper, she touched generous dabs of the reekingly lewd scent on each pointing nipple of each tit, then poured several ounces into the palm of her hand and massaged it well into the hairy fluff between her legs. The lips of her slowly awakening cunt began to thicken and pout.
Then she rummaged for a good ten minutes in her four wardrobe closets until she found a simple but slinky housedress. It was cut scandalously low, and without a bra the dress showed off her nicely formed breasts to perfection. She pondered over whether to put on panties or not, but finally decided on wearing a pair of silky black see-through ones she had once bought when she was a little bit drunk.
She then combed her hair, painted her lips, lined her eyelids and examined the finished effect in the mirror.
"Whore," she whispered, giggling.
It was only after she had pranced downstairs and was sitting on the sofa again that the full impact of what she was about to do hit her.
"I must be out of my mind! How in the world did I ever let myself be talked into a scheme as nutty as all this? Maybe I should call that plumber back and-"
The doorbell rang.
The gay chiming of the front door made her jump a foot off the sofa, but she found her feet and dragged them hesitantly toward the noise.
When she opened the door, she found herself face-to-face with not one plumber, but two!
"Howdy, ma'am," the big one said, showing a gap-tooth grin in his leathery, crude face. "You need a good plumber?"
"I ... uh ... only asked for one," she sputtered lamely.
The big guy grinned again. "This here is my plumber's helper, you might say. His name is Willy, and there's no extra charge for him since he ain't worth much any way you take him."
Jill glanced over the brawny shoulder of the older plumber and got an interesting look at Willy. He seemed to be about nineteen or twenty, with longish hippie-style hair and a pair of imagine sunglasses. He was also chewing gum as if it were going out of style.
As for the other plumber, there was no doubt at all in her mind that this was Big Jake himself. He looked about thirty or so, brutal but friendly, and his gap-toothed grin and crew-cut hair made him look slightly like a tame bear. One other interesting note about him, she realized, was the tattoo of a naked dancing lady on his left bicep.
"The kitchen is this way," she said helplessly.
She had the feeling that four eyes were on her as she led the way, and the feeling didn't make her feel exactly erotic. When she reached the kitchen, Big Jake shouldered his way past her and let his bag of tools fall on the floor with a thunderous clank.
"Gotta shut your water off, ma'am," he said.
"You got a turn-off somewheres?"
Willy stopped chewing his gum long enough to suggest that it was probably in the basement. But all the time he was suggesting it, he was staring at Jill's ample titties.
"Go down there and see, Mutt," Big Jake muttered, and when the smirking young punk had ambled off in the direction Jill pointed, the older plumber sighed and shrugged his massive shoulders.
"Fresh young jerk just back from the Army. No respect for his work. Don't you worry, ma'am, we'll have your pipes unplugged in a jiffy."
To her vague disappointment, Jill noted that Big Jake had almost no interest in her tits. He hadn't even glanced at them! And before she could open her mouth to guide the conversation in some suggestive direction, Willy was back.
As the two went to work on the sink, Jill wandered back out of the kitchen and straight for the phone at the far end of the hallway. She needed help!
She listened impatiently as the phone jangled five times before Mary Carter answered.
"Listen, Mary, I'm in a mess!"
She could almost see Mary grinning at the other end. "You didn't go and get yourself pregnant already, did you, dear?"
"It's not funny! I had an idea to call a plumber, and two came over."
"So, have an orgy, honey."
"No, thanks. One is young and the other looks like he could tie my legs in knots with one hand."
"Ummm, I always wondered how it would be to make out with a Stone-Age type," Mary chuckled.
"But what can I do?" Jill whispered frantically. "They're both out in the kitchen digging all the vacuum trash from the pipes-"
"Which you poured in, of course."
"Of course, but how do I-"
"Simple, you little dumb-dumb. Pick the one you want and tell him that your toilet flush tank upstairs is haywire. When you get him alone, grope him!"
"Mary!"
"You wanted some advice, honey. That's the best I can do. If worst comes to worst, you can always tell the cops that he groped you."
"Thanks."
"Think nothing of it-but do let me know how it all comes out. I can't wait until Saturday!"
When the phone went dead in her hands, Jill wandered on still more shaky legs back to the kitchen. There were pipes and valves and rubber washers all over the place, and Big Jake had his tools spilled across the floor. But it was the young one, Willy, who was hunched up under the bottom of the sink, twisting away with a lug wrench, and that made her decision easier.
"Uh ... would you mind coming upstairs and looking at my flush tank?"
"Huh?"
She repeated the request for Big Jake, and with a shrug he picked up a couple of heavy tools and lumbered out of the kitchen behind her.
"Say, you really got troubles," he said as they trooped up the stairs.
"You don't know the half of it," she breathed.
When they reached her bedroom, she closed the door behind them, and without Big Jake's seeing, she snapped the lock. She led him to the bathroom where only moments before she had been deliciously fantasizing about sex with a handsome, dashing plumber who looked like Rock Hudson. Big Jake didn't quite fit the bill, but she was damned if she'd let the opportunity go down the drain along with the vacuum dirt!
"Ain't nothin' wrong with your flush tank," he was saying, yanking the handle up and down on the pink-colored John while it operated perfectly.
"I said my flush tank," she said, huskily.
He turned and looked at her with a blank stare, his mouth slightly open, his jaw lax. Then his eyes narrowed and his cheeks turned as pink as the crapper.
"Oh, Jesus, I got me another one of your type," he sighed. "Lady, if I had me a dollar for every hot housewife who begged me to dick her, I'd be living in a house like this and you'd be fixing pipes!"
His casual reaction to her brazen suggestion made her flush scarlet.
"You ... you mean you've been ... uh ... propositioned before by-"
He cut her off with a coarse little bark of laughter. "Sweetheart, I've screwed my way in and out of bathrooms for fifteen years. You wanta know why you can never get a plumber when you call for one? The poor damn guy is probably in some horny housewife's John fucking the shit out of her, that's why."
His bawdy talk-and the clinical, indifferent way he was doing it-was not only shocking her ears into a passionate pink it was exciting her right down to her cunthole.
"W-would you--I mean, can you if you're not too tired..."
He laughed again, and let his eyes circle the jut of her waiting tits, then fall down to measure the width of her thighs and the shape of her legs.
"Hell, I'm never too tired to service a woman whose husband ain't got sense enough or peter enough to do it for her. Where you want balled, baby? On the floor here, or on that nice soft bed I seen in the other room?"
She gulped. "But what about your helper down there?"
He grinned and put one of his large, hairy paws on one of her tits, squeezing it like a farmer testing a melon. "Hell, that little bastard can wait on us-unless you want both of us workin' on you at the same time. Me, I don't go much for banging one piece with another guy. But I got no objection to you giving Willy sloppy seconds, since he thinks he'd such a hot stud with those nine inches he's always bragging about."
"Nine inches?" she echoed raggedly.
"Ain't the inches, baby doll, it's the technique. And I ain't had no complaints yet. C'mon, let's you and me go play nurse and doctor."
With the preliminaries over, Big Jake got down to business. He ran his oversized paw into her dress and grabbed one of her warm tits, pulling it out with all the professional aplomb he would use in rootering out a pipe. It plopped hotly into the palm of his hand, nipple erected and rising.
"Nice boobs," he grunted softly. "You got on panties?"
"Yes!" she crooned hoarsely.
"Jerk 'em off. I like to smell panties. Gets me so ball-swellin' horny I can fuck like a horse. Go on, jerk your goddamn panties off!"
She pulled them off by hooking her thumbs under her dress into the elastic band and yanking downward. At the same time, he was pulling her dress off her shoulders, freeing her throbbing breasts so that he could play with them.
When she handed her balled panties to him she was panting like a fire engine.
"Let's do it on the bed," she suggested weakly.
"On the bed, on the floor, on the ceiling-hell, fuckin' is fuckin', " he growled, grinning.
While he followed her out of the John and into the bedroom, he held the little piece of cloth up to his nose and smelled the faintly musky odor of her twat. He sniffed every inch of the scanty-panty, and once he groaned and rubbed the slow but steady bulge that was growing under his fly.
Jill was feeling something she hadn't felt in a long time-the mindless, simple thrill of lust. It reminded her very pleasantly of the time when she was sixteen and an older male cousin of hers introduced her to sex in the back seat of the family car. He had been the same kind of uncomplicated animal that Big Jake was, she now realized, and although at the time she had been both shocked and frightened at the direct way her cousin had talked to her and played with her pussy and tits, she also had known even then that she liked it. Until now, she had never again had the opportunity to indulge her secret passion for such gutsy, down-to-earth sex-play.
She finished the job Big Jake had started by practically ripping the dress off her body. She was getting too hot to give a damn now, and even the hairs ringing the throbbing doughnut of her cunt were tingling with anticipation.
It took Big Jake a few puffing seconds to get out of his clothes, but she enjoyed just sitting on the edge of the bed and watching. He was as hairy as an ape, and his belly had obviously been abused by too many cold beers, but he was all man, and when she saw the medium-sized, thick, blunt-headed penis hanging half-hard out from the black bush of his pubic hair, she felt as fluttery as a virgin in heat.
The husky plumber strolled over toward her with the panties still balled in his enormous hand. His cock wagged a little more stiffly from between his thick legs.
"Lay back," he commanded gruffly. "Stick your butt a little off the edge of the bed and get ready to wrap your legs around my waist."
She gladly followed his obscene instructions, and the second she was in position he came between her legs and drove the knob of his prick deep into the mossy crack of her thighs. She made a soft, grunting sound as the head of his rod parted the pulpy folds of her cunt. Then, remembering his instructions, she brazenly wrapped her legs high up around his waist and pressed the small of his buttocks with her calves.
"That's a nice mare," he whispered, gloating down at the sight of a strange pussy soaking up the thick inches he was feeding into it. "I'll bet you ain't been fucked good in a month of Sundays. But you're gonna be. I've got two hot balls dying to shoot off if the poontang is wanting them bad enough." He drove his hard-on a little deeper into her sucking pussy and reached both hands down to pat the rounded bottoms of her firm but throbbing buttocks. "You think your poontang is woman enough to blow off my big balls, baby?" he husked.
"F-fuck me, you crude bastard," she moaned.
Her unlady-like language made him chuckle, and his stubby, thick rod twitched lustily inside of her as he thrust it snugly right up to the very lips of her cunt.
Since she had never been screwed except in the" conventional and somewhat polite position of female-on-back-male-on-top, this was not only a unique experience, it was a hell of an exciting one.
With Big Jake standing close between her legs, and his hands massaging her flushed buttocks, he was able to get the leverage to fuck her with a steady, loin-pounding rhythm. With each hefty thrust of his short, thick cock he sent a bruising ripple of raw pleasure through her cunt. She could feel the puffy wet lips of her pussy sucking greedily at the root of his stiff rod, and each time that he drove it all the way in the softer hairs on her pubis, they were tickled by the whiskery tuft of his own.
He fucked her steadily for about five minutes, building up the grinding rapture to a dozen peaks that stopped, just short of a teeth-clamping orgasm for both. He didn't want to come, and he didn't want to let her come until he was damned good and ready. Once or twice, he even stopped pumping and enjoyed the way he could make her eyes roll in her head and her tongue slather out of her mouth as he tickled the entrance of her ass-hole with one big finger.
"I like hot women," he husked at her, leaning down until the hairy bulge of his stomach was touching her own, until his balls were pressed like twin pouches against the lower part of her butt. "I like to get 'em hot, and keep 'em hot."
She could barely hear what he was saying. Just inches and seconds away from a deep and selfish orgasm, all she wanted him to do was fuck her with that hairy dong of his-to simply pump her like a bull until her juices were boiling over his balls.
With a convulsive grunt of sluttish need, she began to do the fucking herself. She humped her thighs lewdly against his hips, driving his bestial prick in and out of her slobbering hole with all the subtlety of a jackhammer.
"Hey, you're pretty good at that," he breathed, holding her buttocks in the palm of his massive hands and urging her to keep screwing. Then, when the powerful suctioning of her whorish pussy started making his balls tingle, he screwed with her until they were almost jerking the bed along the floor.
"Pump it, bitch!" he snarled. "Fuck harder! Grab my nuts with that jam jar!"
Her mouth lolled open and her tongue came pointing out between her teeth like a giant clitoris. Her own clit was already erect, hard and red as a wet pimento, and each time his prick plunged into her body the horny love-muscle quivered like a worm.
"AAHHhhhgggg!"
She was coming now. Even her tits were trying to make her pussy come, and with both hands she grabbed her swollen boobs and pulled roughly at the thick nipples, milking more and more pleasure with each stroke.
"Here it comes, baby!" Big Jake growled, fucking harder and faster than ever.
She was ready-more than ready-and the second his quick, hot spurts of sperm exploded against her womb, she spasmed like a harlot!
"God! Commmiiinnnggggg!"
Even her tightly corked pussy couldn't hold the torrent of juices that both of them produced. She not only soaked his balls, but the voluptuous crack of her ass-hole filled like a sewer.
She was almost fainting before he stopped slopping and slurping his bone-hard prick in and out of her cunt, but she knew she hadn't had nearly enough.
She wanted a lot more of everything.
And so, what else is a plumber's cute helper for?