At the suggestion of Erin O'Brien, I hired Fred Cummings to do some handy-work for me. I needed some new shelves in the basement to hold all the things scattered all over that place.
Fred was an older gentleman, and with me checking other recommendations, he seemed to fit the best. Most others said he was terrific and did excellent work. The day Mr. Cummings arrived, I took him downstairs to show him where I wanted the shelves. He looked it all over and said, "Should be no problem, Miss," I went back up the stairs, and when I turned around to close the basement door, Fred was still looking up the stairs. I was wearing form-fitting jeans, and he must have been watching the view as I ascended up the stairs. The jeans were very tight, and every move was accented.
I changed to go to the store. I thought the jeans were maybe a little too tight and put on my denim skirt. The skirt is short but not that short. I was about mid-thigh, and it was certainly comfortable. I opened the door and called to Fred that I was leaving to go to the store and if he left to lock the door as he left. His reply, "Will do, Miss." He watched me as I closed the door. It then dawned on me how much he could see under my skirt from down there. Whatever. He was an older man, probably with more imagination than being real.
When I came back from the store, I went to my bedroom to put away a new bra and three pairs of bikini panties. I am meticulous how I layout my pantie draw to keep a constant flow of day by day wearing. It was evident to me that my drawer had been rifled through. I thought my handyman might have been snooping. I had to test the waters before I started making accusations.
I went to the basement door and opened it and called his name. He came right to the foot of the stairs. I stood there, asking him how everything was going, and I watched his eyes as I let my legs slightly open. There was no doubt where his eyes were glued, looking up my skirt with every movement of my legs. My handyman was a peek-er. I actually thought it was kind of cute at his age. I guess every man never gives up when it comes to women,
I came down the steps. His eyes went from my legs to my blouse, which showed a lot of cleavage. He was trying to be coy, but his eyes were not being cooperative as it turned more of a stare than peek. I think he would have had a heart attack if I just took off the blouse because I never wear a bra with this blouse.
"How are things going, Fred?"
"They are doing just fine, Miss?"
"Fred, just call me Carol."
"OK, Carol, I can do that."
"Fred, would you like a cold drink?"
"A beer would do, Miss...eh, Carol."
I started up the steps casually, turning around to see if he was looking up, and he was. I just had to know what he could or could not see. I decided to test it. I slipped off my panties, and I went to the door and asked, "Fred, Bud Light or Michelob?" The look on his face was telling enough. He could see everything pretty damn well. I went back to the fridge and got his requested Michelob, unbuttoned three buttons of my blouse, and went back down those steps. He stood at the bottom and watched me all the way down the steps. At the bottom, his eyes shot to my open blouse.
"Ah, this beer hits the spot. You are as good as a hostess as your mother."
"You did some work for my mother?"
"Yes, a fine lady."
"Did you know my dad?"
"We sipped a few together. Your dad thought the world of your mom. He always raved about her."
"What did he rave about?"
Ah, Carol, that is kind of personal."
"He is gone, not need to worry about telling on him. What did he say?"
"Oh, I guess it is alright to say."
He was having a problem concentrating, knowing I was standing there with no panties and my boobs exposed right up to my nipples. He finally told me.
"He always said your mom was good in bed."
"Oh, I bet she is. She has quite a few gentlemen callers lately."
"I can imagine."
"Fred, are you fucking my mother?"
"Miss Carol, I don't kiss and tell."
"If you don't tell, would you like to fuck me, as long as you don't tell my mother."
His answer was silent as he sat me on my new lower shelf. As his hands were all over my breasts as he kissed me with beer tasting lips. His hand went under my skirt, he sighed, "Would like something your mother likes?" Of course, I agreed, and he went to his toolbox, got a tool that plugged in, and turned it on. He put in under my skirt right on my mound. The vibrations of this thing were wild. I almost could not stand the overdriving of my nerves done there. I then understood why my mother liked it. He pushed me against the wall, picked my legs up around him, and drove his cock into my cunt, while he held that tool against both of us. You talk about an orgasm. It was wild. I finally climbed off the shelf and sat on the stool in front of it. Fred stood over me, his cum dripping from his cock. He offered it to me, and I sucked on it. What stamina this older man had, as he got hard again and came in my mouth. I had found me a gem of a sexual warrior. I wanted to be ate, and he never missed a beat, eating my pussy with enthusiasm.
I wondered if I should tell my mother or not. The next day I went to see her. Fred's truck was parked outside of her house. I went right in per usual. I heard that familiar sound of my mother and father's bed, as I listened to as a teenager. I went to the bedroom door, and there was Fred on top of my mother. Hef legs dangling in the air as he fucked her. With every thrust of his hips, she responded with jabs of hers. They were quite the couple to watch fuck. No wonder my father had bragged about her. They both must have been getting close to orgasm as he kept calling her a 'FUCKING HOT BITCH' while she responded with calling him a 'MOTHERFUCKER'. Those words were stated again and again until the pleasure overcame the articulation. I quietly left.
The next day when Fred arrived, I told him I watched him fuck my mother. His reply, "A wonderful piece of ass, your mother!"
I asked him, "Who is better, her or me?"
"When I fucked you, Missy, I scratched something off my bucket list. I had fucked two sisters, but never a mother and daughter. Therefore I thank you."
He never did answer my question, but I didn't press for an answer. I only added to his dreams by telling him, I could fix him up with my mom's granddaughter if he would like. I was sure he had seen Carly around, and I saw his cock actually jump in his pants. He was good at making it jump even if it was in your hand. He answered, "If only you could make that happen."
"Give me a week, Fred, and I will make your dreams come true."
He knew I loved to be ate, and he went right to work, giving me an orgasm with his mouth and then another with his cock. The old bastard was good at shelves and making love. He was a joy to fuck.
My mother called me to ask for a favor. Fred was taking her on a cruise. He told her they could swap if she wanted. She was excited to go, but her bus driver needed attention. She asked me to take her place on her tours to nowhere. I happily volunteered, making my way across this great land while fucking and sucking that big black cock.
Fred and my mother, May, enjoyed their cruise, swapping multiple times. Fred even enjoyed my mother fucking a big black cock on one of the island stopover ports. He even took a picture of it. He showed me as his hand went beneath my skirt. He never quits. What a fantastic handyman!