My handy man

There’s something about watching a man do DIY, there’s something sexy about it, something that takes me back to the basic stereotypes of men and women. Men do DIY because they’re strong and they know things about plumbing and electrics and the best way to paint a wall or how to plaster a ceiling, every man is meant to be a handy man, women aren’t meant to know about these things, these are not typically ‘girly things’. Obviously that’s not true a lot of the time, I know for one my mum is very good at DIY and is the one that would always fix the flush on the toilet or lay the laminate flooring and I myself have done my fair share of DIY since living on my own. But still, there is something primal about watching a man doing odd jobs for me and like a lot of men, mine is good at DIY, he likes DIY, he likes tools and drills and big manly things that I’d have no idea what to do with.

We’re putting up a new light in the hallway and I watch him intently up on the step ladder, screwdriver in one hand, the light fitting in the other. I love his hands, so big, so strong, so powerful. I think about how his hands often roam my body or how one can fit around my throat so easily; I think about how skilled his fingers are as I watch him pulling at wires and poking around in the light fitting. I watch him put the end of a large torch in his mouth and am impressed by the size of it, how he can hold such a large and heavy object in his mouth. I try not to but I think about his strong unapologetic tongue and how it can flick and suck at my clit so expertly. I swallow hard as my eyes can’t help but fall down to the bulge in his jeans. He barely speaks to me when I ask any questions, he’s focused completely on the job in hand and I have faded into the background, I’m unimportant right now. He’s getting frustrated and I’m just in the way, not making things worse but unable to make anything better. He doesn’t ask for help, he doesn’t say much, there’s just the odd muttered swear word as he gets more worked up.

He’s pulling on the wires hanging from the ceiling and different sized screwdrivers are going in and out of his pockets. I can see sweat building up on his forehead, shimmering in the glare from the torch. I can see his t-shirt getting speckled with sweat as well and I want him, I want him right now, sweaty and rude and not paying attention to me. I want to get his dirty, thick cock in my mouth, I want him to keep ignoring me and carry on with the DIY, I just want to be there to service him and barely distract him, just provide a release to try and help relax him during his frustration. I want to hear a slight grunt as his cock slips into my throat, his screwdriver slipping out of its slot at the same time and hear him murmur ‘fuck’ under his breath. Not a good ‘fuck’, an annoyed ‘fuck’ because I’ve caused him to make a mistake, I would just be in the way, exactly where I want to be.

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