The Handy Dick - Part I

My name is Joyce. I am sixty-two years old, a retired high school teacher, recently widowed, and one hundred and sixty-five centimetres tall with a curvy, fuckable figure, wide ample hips and heavy, full breasts that still draw hungry stares. After losing my husband to a sudden illness, I decided it was time for a fresh, horny start. I sold our family home in Mount Nasura and bought a smaller house in Rivervale to be closer to the city and my adult children. The move was overwhelming, but I arranged for a removals company to bring all my furniture from storage.

That was the first disaster as they delivered everything much earlier than quoted. I arrived at my new house only to discover all my furniture stacked like junk in the driveway. I got on the phone and bitched them out, but since I had already paid the lazy fucks they did not care. I opened up the house and started to drag heavy boxes into the garage. After about half an hour I had only three boxes inside and I cried from pure exhaustion, my tits heaving with each sob. Then a man from across the road came over with a trolley and said, “I am Derek. I live over there and it looks like you need some help, love.”

He was in his early forties with a strong, muscled build, dark skin and a warm, dirty smile. “Oh, thank you so much,” I said. “The movers just dumped everything here so I am trying to get it all into the garage before any rain comes and ruins my shit.”

Derek replied, “No problem at all, Joyce, but if you know which boxes go into which room it would be better to put them there. Then you can unpack at your leisure… or get fucked while you do it.”

“Good idea,” I said, and we began. With the trolley it went surprisingly fast and we had everything done in about two hours, even the fridge, the washing machine and my big queen bed that I was already imagining getting railed on.

“Thank you so much,” I said. “I would offer you a cold drink but my fridge is not cold yet and I have nothing in it.”

Derek smiled and said, “That is okay. Would you like to come over and have a cold beer at my place… and maybe sit on something thicker than a bar stool?”

I could not refuse after all the work he had done and he seemed like a nice, hung guy, so I said, “That would be great.” His house was spacious with several bedrooms. “This is lovely, Derek,” I said. He told me it was just him since he had moved from Turkey years ago after leaving a difficult situation back home. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. They were super cold and I needed one more than I thought to cool my suddenly throbbing cunt.

“I am just about to order some food for lunch,” Derek said. “Would you like to join me?”

I thought he probably wanted to bend me over the table more than lunch but I decided to trust him and said, “That is great, but my treat for all your help.”

“Okay, I can handle that,” he replied and handed me a menu from the local takeaway. I chose a stir fry and he ordered something with rice. He rang and paid with his card. “Be about twenty-five minutes,” he said. “The place is only about one kilometre away.”

“I thought I was paying,” I said.

Derek laughed and replied, “I was getting it anyway. You can get it next time… or get on your knees for me instead.”

Over another beer and lunch I told him my story. “I lost my husband last year, Derek, and the grief has been so heavy. Starting over alone in a new suburb feels scary… and my pussy hasn’t been touched properly in forever.”

Derek listened carefully and said, “I am sorry for your loss, Joyce. Life in Ankara was hard too before I came here, but you seem strong and fucking sexy. Moving to Rivervale was a good choice. You will like it here… especially once I stretch that neglected cunt.”

I smiled and we talked easily about our lives, the sexual tension growing thicker by the minute. I did not mention how long it had been since I had been properly fucked and filled. After a relaxing lunch I said, “I had better go and do some serious unpacking.”

Derek laughed and said, “Look, if you need help with anything at all, especially something that involves getting sweaty and naked, just call me,” and he gave me his mobile number.

“Thanks,” I said. “I have never had to do this on my own before. I will text you when I get home so you have my number.”

I went home and sent him a thank you text for helping and lunch. Derek replied, “No worries. As you know I work as a handyman, so Derek’s handyman service is always available… especially for servicing lonely, dripping widows.” I thought he was hot as hell but I was not ready for anything more. I spent the rest of the day unpacking and was pleased with what I managed to get done.

The next day I had a lot of things in place but when I tried to connect my washing machine water sprayed everywhere like a broken faucet. I texted Derek and said, “Washing machine spraying water everywhere. Can you fix?”

He replied, “Be over in about five minutes,” and he was true to his word. When I heard a knock on my door he came in. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Derek,” I said as we went to the laundry. I showed him the problem. When I turned the tap on, water sprayed everywhere, soaking his shirt and clinging to his shorts so the massive bulge of his thick cock was impossible to miss.

Obviously, he did not have anything on under his shorts and I could clearly see the fat, heavy outline of a very large, veiny cock. My nipples hardened into stiff peaks and my neglected pussy responded with a hot, slippery tingle. Get those filthy thoughts out of your head, I told myself silently, even as my clit throbbed. Derek took the hoses off and said, “The washers are missing. The movers must have lost them.”

“Those movers are still annoying me,” I said.

Derek replied, “I think I have some,” so he went home and was back in five minutes with washers that he fitted. The washing machine was all good.

“Anything else need fixing?” he asked with a friendly, predatory grin.

I thought, ‘Only my aching, empty cunt, but I do not know if you do that kind of handyman work’, and laughed to myself. “Two things,” I said. “One of the garage door remotes does not work and I need help to put my bed together. I slept on the mattress on the floor last night like a desperate slut.”

“Okay,” Derek said, “bed first, then we may have to look up instructions on how to reprogram the remotes.”

I led him to my bedroom and he had the base assembled in about fifteen minutes. “I need a hand with the mattress, Joyce,” he said. As I bent down to pick up my side, giving him a clear view of my cleavage, I caught him staring at my heavy tits. We put the mattress on the bed. “Okay, what is next?” he asked.

I thought for a moment and said, “Can you help me put the television on the wall bracket?” as I knew it was a two-person job and I wanted his body close.

I gave him the pins for his side and I held mine as we lifted the television. He quickly had the pins fitted on his side but I could not get mine in. “Can you hold the television while I try and get mine in?” I said. He shuffled along and as he got right behind me I could feel his rock-hard, massive cock pushing firmly against my ass. I could not help myself. I looked at the obscene, throbbing outline in his shorts. It looked huge and ready to wreck me.

I leaned forward and boldly grabbed his thick cock through his shorts and kissed him hard. Derek kissed me back hungrily and put his strong arms around me. “It feels so fucking good to have someone hold me again,” I whispered.

“You feel like a hot, tight little slut, Joyce,” he replied softly. I moved my hand up and slid it down inside his shorts. He was not wearing anything underneath. His cock felt massive, thick and pulsing. I dropped to my knees and pulled his shorts down. His enormous black cock sprang free and slapped heavily against my face. We both laughed.