Long-haired brunette man, shirtless and leaning against the railing of a veranda with a green field in the background.
10 months ago

I Had A Thing For Long-Haired Brunette Men

Summary: I might have needed a handyman, but I got far more than I bargained for when a muscular long-haired brunette hunk showed up at my doorstep.
Reading time: 5 min

After over ten years of living alone, I could have fixed the garbage disposal myself. I am, after all, no stranger to doing some DIY around the house. But there was just something about getting a man to do it for me that I loved. So, of course, I called for a handyman to drive out. 

On that Thursday morning, when the handyman finally showed up, I felt certain I had made the correct choice. The person the company had sent was exceptionally attractive. His chiselled jawline and long wavy brunette hair framed a ruggedly handsome face. That captivating smile and piercing green eyes made quite an impression as I opened the door. His body, visible under a blue work shirt with cutoff sleeves, appeared to be finely sculpted, revealing his rather impressive biceps.

I've always had a thing for a man with strong muscles and long wavy hair. As far as muscular men went, this was a prime specimen of about 6 feet tall. If Tarzan had a day job, this would be what he looked like. His facial expression made it seem like he was excited to see me, but I brushed that off as polite professionalism. 

"Morning, Mrs. Davidson. I'm Brett. You called about your garbage disposal."

His voice was smooth as butter, with a light southern accent, and so deep I could feel my pussy quiver while he spoke. 

"Please, it's Miss Davidson or just Peggy. Come right in, Brett."

I showed him to the kitchen, where he got to work straight away. As he worked, I had an unobstructed view of his muscles flexing, particularly his arms. I found myself drawn to watching the tendons in his neck ripple beneath his locks of hair. Though I caught him catching me staring a few times, I couldn't resist indulging in my admiration.

"You know Peggy. I think I've seen you before." He wiped off beads of sweat from his forehead as he spoke.

"Oh really? I'm sure I would have remembered running into you." This was, unfortunately, as good as I was at flirting at 35.

"It was at the pub just two roads down. You know, the one overlooking the river."

"Oh my god, yes! I go there from time to time."

"You were with another guy when I saw you sitting at the bar, but I told my mates that if I ever ran into you again, I wouldn't hesitate to make a move."

"You must be talking about my brother. If I knew what a cock block he was being, I would have sent him on his way."

We both smiled at each other during a short pause in the conversation. Our eyes never broke contact, and you could feel the sexual tension building in the room. I wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes off his perfectly muscular body.

I broke eye contact to take in the rest of his body. My eyes ended up on the massive bulge between his legs. His tight clothes left very little to the imagination. That was no average dick being held back by his pants.

He knew where I was looking and slipped one hand over the fabric that was hiding his growing cock and gave it a slow rub.

"If you are going to keep checking me out, I hope you will give me a little something to look at too."

I lifted my skirt, slid my hands under my knickers, and started to finger myself while I watched my Tarzan on the floor.

"How much do you love eating wet pussy, Brett?"

"Why don't I show you?"

He stood up, lifted me over his shoulder as if I weighed absolutely nothing, and carried me to the sofa. I was putty in his arms. I wanted more time to feel his ripping muscles and admire his long locks, but before I knew it, I was on my back with his cock already in my face. He had put me down in the 69 position, and his tongue was already working its magic on my wet pussy.

I wrapped my lips around his big cock and slowly took as much of his length inside my mouth. I gagged a bit when I went too far, but he pulled back so I could breathe.

"You, just lay your head down. Let me do the work." He said in his deep voice.

I rested my head on the pillow. He slowly slipped his throbbing cock into my mouth, the taste of precum on my lips once more. It was mind-blowing how effortless it seemed for him to be in control of everything. My soaking pussy quivered as his tongue kept slipping and sliding into all the right places, all while he manoeuvred his cock in and out of my wanting mouth.

His cock was the perfect size to fill my mouth. He had the best-looking cock I've ever had. As if reading my mind or maybe reading my body, he would give my jaw a rest and titty fuck me ever so often. I pressed my tits together to make it nice and tight for him. His moans told me how much he loved it.

I was getting closer to squirting my nectar all over his face, so the next time his cock slid between my breasts, I decided to get my head between his cheeks and rim his ass.

Our bodies reacted like fine-tuned instruments. We were both cumming hard in such unison. Me glazing his face like a freshly baked donut, and him covering my abdomen in his warm spunk.

"Oh fuuuuuuuuck!"

Squirt after squirt, he kept pumping cum all over me until his balls had emptied. With a long sigh, he collapsed on the floor next to the sofa.

"I should call a handyman more often. Next time you can pound me harder if you want to fuck my pussy good."

"Next time? Do you mean in 5 minutes when we are going for round two?" He said while taking me in his arms again.