The Handyman Again Ch. 4

"Nylons, woman." I could tell you that she jumped right up and rushed to do my bidding, but she didn't. She commented once about being wasted, nay, destroyed.

Then she rolled over on her side, away from me, and said, "Start on the back door, John."

Whoops. I was out of charge again. But I wanted to see her put on her nylons. But, what the hell. "Okay, Tamara." Down stairs I went.

When drilling through a door for a doorknob set or dead bolt, you always drill from both sides. Actually you're sawing a circle, but with a drill bit to guide the round saw as it spins in the electric drill. The guiding drill bit protrudes further than the round saw, so it pushes through the other side of the door before the saw cuts through. This is good because it allows you to move the electric drill around to the other side of the door and drill/saw the opposite direction, preventing the door from splintering when the saw pushes through. I tell you all of that because I drilled from the inside of the back door first, then went outside to drill in the other way. The door was closed so I could push against it with the hole saw in the electric drill, and soon the whole disk of wood that the hole saw was cutting began to spin, meaning I had connected through. I pulled the tool back exposing the new hole in Tamara's door for the new dead bolt. Looking through to examine the cleanness of the cut, I see a nipple. A pretty nipple. One I would like to suck on. But when I opened the door, the robe was back in place and Tamara was no longer near the door. That is to say, Tamara in black high heels, dark colored stockings, a short teal-blue satin robe and radiant, wavy hair, was no longer near the door.

"Wow", I said, intelligently. But I guess she understood it was meant to be a tribute.

"Just because that worked once doesn't mean that it will work again, you know." Well she lost me with that one. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"I'm sorry, but you have me totally lost, but completely en rapt again with your presence."

"I mean, John, that just because you got me to have two orgasms doesn't mean that I can have another."

"But you're not sure. If you didn't hope I was right you wouldn't have taken the time to get that fantastically desirable. Would you?" Had her with that one.

"Well, since I've never had two before, why should I have believed that I could have two today? And why should I believe that I could have more today. Besides, they are very debilitating."

"Tamara. Anyone who wouldn't be willing to push that body of yours to its ultimate limits every time out should be shot. More than that, tell you about it. Make you watch while it's happening. Help you learn to enjoy being a slut, wanton hussy, whore, and whatever else it takes to satiate you. And if that means one orgasm, fine. If it means six, so what. You'll get to where you know your limit. Just be willing to be wrong once in a while."

"So how about you? How many times can you have an orgasm, Mr. Ensexlopedia?" Ain't she cute?

"Once per session. Sometimes three times a day. But that's not at all common. But since there is no comparison between us, I don't think it makes any difference. Sometimes I don't come, even after more than an hour of lovemaking. So what? When I do finally come, your ovaries will bang up against your clavicle. But that's only part of my pleasure. Just as big a part is wanting to use your body for my own purposes just like you saw me do on the staircase."

"Oh, John! You mean you would want to use me like that repeatedly? Just for your own satisfaction?" she asked with a proper note of aghast in her voice.

"Yup!"

"Why, that's tantamount to... to... yummy." With that she turned sideways to me, opened her robe to expose her nylon-clad leg, the bare skin on her upper thigh, the straps of her garter belt and one side of her yum-yum ass. Nylons and garter belts are special. Panty hose should all be burned at the stake. Any man who likes women and likes pantyhose must never have seen nylons and a garter belt. Makes me drool just to think about it.

Returning from my reverie I asked, "What does the other side look like?" Tamara turned her other side to me and opened her robe the same way to show me that leg and side. Nice. "And what are you wearing on top, Little Blue Riding Robe?"

Turning back to me she lowered the shoulder of one side of her robe. Her succulent medium-sized breast was tucked in a soft lace blue strapless bra. Even before I could ask she stated, "And the other side looks the same."

"Okay." I said, "But what's in the front?" and I pointed right between her legs.

"You'll have to wait to find that out." Said with finality. Then she added, "If you do plumbing, there is a small leak in the cabinet under the kitchen sink." She could never have guessed at why I must have looked so shocked, yet elated. Or could she? Oh, well. Dead bolt first.