A Dead Bedroom Leads to a Good Fucking by the Repairman [fM]

It was one of those mornings again. When I woke up groggy and in a rut of sadness, opening my eyes to find my husband had left me once again, to work his long and draining hours while I tended to the home with hardly anything else to do.

Aching and throbbing from a horrible night of rest, plagued by the stress of being a housewife that barely gets the love and affection she treasured years before. That’s what happens in marriages, right?

The honeymoon phase ends, and the affection and clinginess starts to die down as the flame that once ignited the passion in the relationship starts to fade. A dead bedroom. We all have one at some point.

My mother warned me of this. How it would affect my self-esteem and how getting older and less love from my partner would make me compare myself to all the younger women I would suddenly be more aware of. Who could probably easily take my husband away if they wanted to.

And it’s true.

Even now, as I look at myself in the mirror, I see nothing but a girl with bags under her eyes and a bird’s nest of tangled hair sloppily dressed in a cute nightgown that looks anything but cute and flattering on me.

It was 9AM and still, it looked like I had just woken up at 4AM having gone to sleep at 1. At least, that’s what I thought. True or not, I desperately tried to fix something and combed out my hair after a long, hot shower—the warmth of it was one of those things I looked forward to in the morning when I didn’t have a husband to cuddle me.

But the motivation ended there. I had no real reason to get dressed up, and as such I just threw my nightgown back on and found myself wandering down the stairs and into the kitchen. Hence my daily routine began.

Put a cup of water in the microwave for tea, a slice of bread in the toaster, put food and water in my cat’s bowl, and wait for my breakfast to be ready. The only thing keeping me company and keeping me in check was my cat, rubbing against my leg in happiness and approval after being fed.

That was until I heard the doorbell blare and ring across the hall, startling the both of us just a bit.

I cursed myself a little, realizing what I was wearing, but chalked it up to it probably being some salesperson or a neighbor dropping off mail they’ve wrongly received in my name. Besides, my attire was far from what’s considered “slutty.” Sure, it was slightly revealing of my small cleavage fashioned with a small slit on the left side, but other than that the length traveled down to where my fingertips would be at my sides. I abandoned the hesitance and strolled over to the front door to open it.

I was surprised to see that there was a man standing in front of me in what appeared to be attire fit for a repairman. Toolbox in your hand and all.

With a perplexed look on my face I asked, “May I help you?”

“Good morning, miss, I’m sorry to wake you, but is this the Fox residence?”

“It is,” I murmured, arms crossed in front of me now.

“I believe your husband scheduled an appointment for me to look at your plumbing issues today?” At this point, you looked slightly confused as well with an eyebrow raised.

My stomach dropped and I wanted to kick myself as I finally realized what day it actually was and that I had completely forgotten about the entire situation.

I winced and shook my head in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh, I’m *so*, so sorry! I completely forgot…pl-please, do come in.”

I moved out of the way as you accepted my apology and told me not to worry about anything with a smile on your face. It was at that moment that it dawned on me that I was entirely, utterly, and undeniably attracted to you.

“I’ll just go right upstairs to change, it’ll only take a second,” I stammer as I try to shuffle away quickly.

“It’s okay, really, you don’t have to. It’s not a fashion show after all and it’s best for you to be comfortable in your own home,” you reassured me with a smile. “My name is _____, by the way.”

I knew that this was your not-so-sneaky way of just wanting to check me out more in my gown, but there was a part of me that didn’t care and was endeared and enamored by your charm.

“Nice to meet you…I’m Dahlia,” I replied.

I smiled up at you and led you into the kitchen by the sink that was having trouble starting a couple nights ago. My husband never has the time nor the energy to fix anything, and of course I didn’t know any better.

“Is your husband home?” was the next question you asked me.

I shook my head and looked away, feeling a tinge of sadness stir within me. “No, he’s at work as per usual.”

“Ah. Long hours?”

“Super long hours,” I huff. “I don’t know how he does it.

It was at that moment that I bent over in front of you, without thinking really, to open the cabinetry under the sink and show you the likely source of our issues. I didn’t think of it at the time but even with the length of my gown, you very likely caught a glimpse of the silk white panties underneath. That was probably the exact moment when you realized your opportunity.

“I think this is probably the culprit,” I explained unknowingly.

I didn’t know it, but you shifted a bit uncomfortably as you felt yourself grow a little hard at the sight of me. My long and exposed legs, and the small peak you got of my underwear. All alone in the house.

“May I take a look?” you asked politely.

I smiled, stood back up and walked away, making my way over to my toaster to retrieve my toast and set it on my plate. My tea was ready, too. All that was left to do was spread some butter on the warm bread and watch you cautiously as you examined the pipes. Almost too closely…eyeing you.

It wasn’t long before suddenly, thoughts that were escalating in a less than appropriate manner were filling my head. Your arms looked so strong and you looked so calm and collected, professional, like you knew what you were doing. The part of me that was aching and yearning for intimacy wished that you would just scoop me up in your arms and carry me away.

I was so distracted looking at you and picturing my fantasy romance that I ended up dropping the knife onto the floor in a somewhat loud clatter, startling both you and my feline friend. She went scampering into another room as I watched you stand up from the corner of my eye.

“Mrs. Fox, are you okay?” you asked with a slight chuckle.

“Pl-please,” I blushed, “call me Dahlia. I’m okay, I’m just a little clumsy…”

I wasn’t expecting it, but it seemed like you had genuine concern for me. Your face looked a little perplexed and an eyebrow was raised yet again.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping or anything, but you seem a little stressed or frazzled about something. Is everything alright?”

I felt so warm at your words and got lost in your kind eyes, and almost felt my heart fluttering. It was odd—the effect compassion and sympathy had on me; how long it’s been since I’ve heard caring words towards me. I think it must have been what caused me to be such an open book for you.

“I just miss my husband, that’s all,” I sighed. “I never really see him anymore and when I do he doesn’t pay much attention to me. He hasn’t touched me in ages and that might even be the worst of it. I don’t know what happened to us.”

The words hung in the air and there was silence for a moment. I almost felt like I overstepped and crossed a line myself, as ridiculous as that sounds. But finally, you responded.

“That’s such a shame, Dahlia. I’m sure your husband misses you, too, and is dying to touch you. But you’re an awfully beautiful woman and it’s a sad thought, thinking of you going untouched and unsatisfied like that.”

My heart skipped a beat and I swear my stomach dropped a little. I set my cup of tea down and cleared my throat awkwardly, suddenly finding myself consumed with shyness. I looked away and kind of fiddled with myself, shifting uncomfortably.

“Y-yes…it’s not a great feeling,” I managed to say.

I watched as you started to move closer towards me, your toolbox set carefully at your feet. I didn’t dare move an inch. I wanted so badly to see where this was going…hoped so badly that it was going *somewhere*.

“When was the last time your husband kissed you?” you asked me, only a few steps away from me now.

“W-well, he still does manage to kiss me most of the time when he comes home,” I deflected, suddenly more nervous and shy now. Was this really happening?

“When was the last time he touched you?”

My heart was pounding. *It’s about to burst out of my chest or leap out of my throat*, I thought.

“M-maybe a couple of weeks ago…”

You looked a little surprised and were only a few inches away from me now.

Silence as I anticipated the words that were to come next. Your eyes now so obviously filled with hunger.

“When was the last time he *fucked* you?” You said it so loud and clear, staring so intently at me.

I gulped. My heart stopped and I squeezed my thighs together, trying to stop the growing heat between my legs.

“Months…” I whispered, looking away.

“Maybe you should get what you need from another source,” you continued. Your hands were now placed at my sides and on the counter, underneath my own arms. I couldn’t possibly say no to you. To *this*.

“Maybe I should.”

I made the first move and grabbed the hem of your shirt firmly, pulling you closer to me until our lips were locked together, moving in sync. You took this as permission to move one of your hands from the counter and onto my waist, the other quickly becoming wrapped up and tangled in my hair.

It was, to say at the very least, amazing. To feel this lust again and to make out with another man so passionately. It was dangerously hot.

Soon I was moaning at your touch and your deep kisses, and wanted more of you. Almost as if you were reading my mind, you pushed your tongue past my lips gently, willing your way inside my mouth. I stifled a little and whimpered, pulling back a little. This was something a bit foreign to me.

Your grip on my hair got just a little tighter, just firm enough to tell me telepathically that it was okay and you knew what you were doing. You pulled me back into you and swirled your tongue around with mine, like they were dancing together.

I wrapped my arms around your neck and just melted into the embrace, wanting and desiring you fully.

Your hands were back at my sides again, this time to lift me up so you could place me on top of the kitchen counter. I didn’t hesitate to take this opportunity to wrap my legs around your waist to will you closer as both of our eyes closed shut.

The more you kissed me the more I wanted you, the more I was willing to let you do whatever you pleased. Your lips were so soft and full and your mouth was so warm, I felt like I was melting. And when I finally opened my eyes to see you already looking at me, our eyes locked together, my heart skipped a beat.

Your eyes were completely trained on mine and nearly bearing into my soul as we continued the longest and hottest French kiss I’ve ever had. Lightly brushing your tongue against mine, retreating and inviting me to make the next move. I obliged you.

A small and desperate whine escaped the back of my throat as you pulled your mouth away from mine, a single strand of saliva still connecting us. I looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, realizing that I was quickly becoming dripping wet, a spot forming on my panties.

“Do you like being kissed like that?” you cooed, your finger lightly scratching my chin; like I was your little kitten.

“Y-yes,” I moaned.

“I want to kiss you like that all over,” you continued as you left a trail of kisses on my cheeks, neck, shoulders, and chin. My collarbone…and my cleavage, too. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a small giggle, so delighted to be doted on again. Even if it was by a complete and total stranger.

“Would you like it if I kissed you like that on your pretty little pussy?”

The sudden change in not just your tone but in your words and delivery was enough to make my clit throb a little harder. The sudden intensity and harshness of the reality of what you were going to do to me was alarmingly erotic. My husband has never talked this dirty to me before; it was so new to me…let alone did I know how it felt to have a tongue…down there.

My husband is of the firm belief that we shouldn’t put our mouths on “private parts,” so that’s just something I never really experienced. Something I’ve locked away inside a small little box hidden in the corners of my depraved mind, a fantasy for safekeeping so my husband couldn’t see the corrupt sinner within.

“I-I don’t know,” I admitted shyly.

“Are you telling me that your husband doesn’t eat you out?” You looked surprised.

“Never.”

“That should be a crime. You need to be treated like the princess you are, and that includes the most pleasurable of treatments. So you are going to lead me to your bedroom, take off that gown and spread your legs open for me so I can give you that experience.”

Your words were enough to intoxicate me and imprison me to your request. There was no guilt, no shame; just pure desire as you lowered me off the counter and I grabbed ahold of your hand firmly. Our eyes were still locked on each other as I led you towards the spiral staircase. The carpeted stairs that would bring you to my most intimate of spaces, the room I share with the person I married, into our bedroom where I closed and locked the door behind us.

I wasted no time pulling the straps of my gown off my arms, letting the cloth fall gently off of me and into a puddle at my ankles. I kicked them away off into the corner somewhere and let you eye me up and down in complete nudity. For some reason, I felt comfortable in front of you.

“My, my, you are even more beautiful than I expected,” you said.

I smiled and lowered myself down onto the bed, spreading my legs like you asked me to. It was no secret now, how wet I was. I could tell by the way you were staring that you loved the way my slit looked glistening with my own juices, the ones you made flow.

“That’s right,” you cooed gently as you got down on your knees at the foot of the bed, “that’s a good girl.”

*Good girl*. The way that made me feel…that was something special.

I gasped when you grabbed my hips and pulled me down closer to the edge of the bed, placing my legs on your shoulder to get better leverage. As your face inched closer and closer to me, I could feel the warmth of your breath against my vulva. Just the slightest touch made me squirm a little, so anxious to see what it feels like.

I watched in awe as you brought your thumb to your lips and wet it a little with your tongue before placing it on my clit, your other finger pulling the hood back to expose my pearl. I gasped and whimpered a little at your touch…I haven’t been touched there by a man in so long.

You smirked up at me, moving in small circles.

“Does that feel good?”

That’s when you skillfully pulled your thumb away to replace it with your mouth, starting to tongue at my pussy, swirling the tip around my little jewel, up and down my slit and sucking on my sensitivities occasionally. It was so hard not to clench my thighs around your neck immediately, impossible to keep myself from arching my back and letting out a loud, careless moan.

With your hands on my hips I didn’t hold back my small movements, bucking and swaying gently against your face. Soon, my hands were reaching up and tangling in your hair, willing you to continue.

Every second was agonizingly pleasurable, turning my stomach and sending shiver after shiver down my spine, as you licked me up slowly. Teasingly. Were you trying to get me to beg?

It was working.

You could tell by the way my thighs started to shake, by how my hips moved a little more violently and desperately, how dripping wet I was starting to get.

But just when I was starting to lose control, that’s when you pulled away. Desperately, I whimpered and whined, nearly tugging at you to start again. I was surprised at myself, even.

Until you blew lightly on my clit. Just a little.

“O-oh my God!” I breathed.

“You taste so fucking good, your husband is really missing out not going down on this sweet, perfect little pussy of yours,” you groaned. “I could taste you for hours.”

“Pl-please don’t stop, f-fuck…”

You blew on me again before sucking harder, more deliberately now and with more vigor. It was when your tongue started to move from side-to-side that I really felt myself losing it. You kept going faster and faster, harder and harder, and I was so, so close…

And then, you pulled away again. This time, farther away from me.

“N-no, wait, please…” I was begging you now. *Desperately*. It was embarrassing but I was so touch-starved, so deprived of gratification that I would do almost anything to feel it just once more.

But it wasn’t over. It was far from over…you were just getting started.

You winked at me before you flipped me over and onto my stomach, propping me up on my knees by guiding me by my hips, my bare bottom up in the air. I closed my eyes, anticipating what was next to come, until I felt your warm and wet tongue on me again. Up and down my slit. I wrapped my legs around your neck and moaned into my pillow, my legs beginning to shake and quiver more in pleasure.

You moaned a little and the vibrations on my clit brought me even closer to the edge. Before now, I would have thought this amount of ecstasy was impossible.

That’s when you introduced a single finger into my dripping wet honeypot, pushing it all the way in and twisting slightly. I was so tight from being abstinent for a while that I was already gripping at that tiny amount of girth, unbeknownst of the size that was yet to come.

I gasped, arched my back and threw my head back in approval, loving the addition and you. I could almost feel you smiling as you picked up the pace and started pumping your finger in and out of me, your tongue swirling around my clit again.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” I cried.

“Cum for me.”

You started going faster and when you added another finger a wave of orgasmic pleasure washed over my entire body. I shuddered, bucked, and trembled against you and could barely hold myself up any longer, soon losing the grip I had from when my legs were wrapped so tightly around you.

It was like I was drowning in an ocean for months in an endless, empty love affair, and you had just snatched me up above the water for a breath of fresh air. Like I was wandering lost and alone through a dark tunnel for so long, and you were the light at the end of it.

I collapsed onto the bed in a small sweat, panting and allowing a tiny bit of drool to flow from my mouth and onto the satin cushion I was just moaning into a few minutes ago.

You flipped me back over and got a good look at me, seemingly satisfied with yourself and the job you had done. Just not completely satisfied. You weren’t finished with me just yet.

You smiled at me and let your hands roam up and down my body, teasing at my sides and exploring every edge and curve. I could see that somehow through all of that you had managed to get yourself out of your pants, dressed in nothing but your undershirt and boxers now, and I could also see the huge bulge. I knew immediately that I wasn’t prepared to take your size—far bigger than my husband’s. But I also knew that I wanted to, anyway.

As dominant and ruling as you seemed, you were still so gentle with me as you continued to caress me and allow me a few moments to catch my breath. Maybe even to allow me to reel in my emotions and see if I wanted to take things further. But the truth is there was no turning back now and we were already way past that point.

The moment I let you into my house was the exact moment our fate was sealed.

“____, will you please fuck me?” I pleaded.

“Baby girl…I am so glad you asked me.”

After climbing on top of the bed your shirt was the next to go, exposing your bare and tight chest to me. I put my hands over your skin and placed my hand over your heart, curious to see how fast it was beating. Just like mine, it was going at a fast pace. You were just as excited for me.

My hands traveled down and soon they were at the hem of your boxers, tugging it down and off you slowly to reveal your huge, thick cock. It was an amazingly hot sight, how hard you were throbbing and how much you were dripping in precum.

If humans could have heart eyes, that’s the exact expression I would have right now, staring at it in front of me. Eager to please you, I found myself shifting in bed so I could bring my tongue to the tip of your cock. I lapped up your juices and swirled my tongue around your head before taking it into my mouth and suckling gently.

I heard a deep and sexy moan come from you which only made me want to go further. My husband didn’t know, but I’ve seen this plenty of times in porn, when I had nothing else to satisfy me after being left dry and alone so many times. I’ve always wanted to do this.

I didn’t think I could take all of you in my small mouth but I tried, anyway. I pushed myself further down your shaft and sucked harder, my tongue stretching out and applying more pressure.

It was your turn to be the one to wrap your hands in my hair, to move your hips against my face. I moaned and hummed to create small vibrations along your entire length, my tongue swirling around your sides. I learned from the best, after all—only from you did I know how good those little reverberations feel.

Recounting all of the scenes I’ve masturbated to before, recently even, I bobbed my head up and down, back and forth as I tried to will myself to deep-throat you. Though, I wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

        You grunted as you started to pick up the pace a little and suddenly your entire cock was down my throat, and I immediately gagged and pulled back, tiny droplets of tears already forming at the corners of my eyes.

“Fuck baby, I’m sorry,” you whispered, “you just feel so good…”

“It’s okay, I want to do better,” I whined.

You smiled at me.

        “You’re already doing so well.”

I went slower this time, at a pace appropriate for me, and was soon taking nearly all of you in my mouth again. The sloppier and messier it got, the easier it was for you to inch closer and closer to the back of my throat; until eventually, I was under my own control and could properly serve you.

Your growing moans and twitching cock was all the approval I needed, extending my tongue to explore more inches of you, my hands running down and along your back.

I sucked a little harder now, slowing my pace until I was going almost agonizingly slow to tease and edge you. I looked up at you with wide, lust-filed eyes and watched as you moaned and bit your lip.
 
Gently, I pulled away until your cock slipped out of my mouth with a small *pop* and brought one of my hands down to wrap it around your shaft. I squeezed and started moving my hand, twisting a little and squeezing harder every time I reached the precious head of your erection. I started going faster when I noticed you looking down at me now, mesmerized and entranced. This is when I really put everything I’ve learned up to task and wrapped my lips around the head of your cock swiftly, still jerking you off.

I heard another moan come out of you as you grabbed a fistful of my hair once again, but restrained yourself from fucking into me. It must have been so hard for you not to lose yourself just then, just as I licked your most erogenous zone, your frenulum with all of its sweet nerve endings.

That’s when, gently, you pulled out of me with a smile on your face.

“Your mouth and hands feel amazing, baby, but I just have to have you. I can’t wait any longer.”

I quietly mewled, swooning over you.

“Then please…put your cock inside of me.”

I laid back down on the bed and spread my legs for you once more, looking at you with wide and pleading eyes. You lowered yourself on top of me and positioned yourself at my entrance, my dripping womanhood.

“Take a deep breath and relax, sweetie,” you whispered, pushing the head of your cock inside me.

Just that alone was enough to stretch me out a bit past my limits, enough to make me immediately gasp and tense up. But your small, deep circular massages on my breasts and your mouth against my ear was enough to relax me again.

“Shh, honey, relax, baby…it’ll only hurt for a little bit, and then I’m going to make you feel soooo good.”

You pushed more inside of me, only halfway now and I already felt so full. I heard you grunt a little because I was so tight and gripping your cock at an almost impossible hold. Like a virgin pussy.

And finally, your entire length was completely inside of me and I could feel every inch and ridge of your throbbing, delicious cock. It did hurt, just a tiny bit, just the right amount. But then it did feel good…soooo good as you started to move in and out of me, slowly to start.

You rocked your hips against me and soon I was moving at the same rhythm and pace, matching your thrusts and showing you just how much I wanted it.

The familiar sound of the bedframe knocking against the wall permeated through my ears, something I longed to hear again and didn’t expect to hear for a while, maybe ever again as I slowly withered away. But yet here you were like my knight in shining armor; the same man that my own husband called over and invited into his own home.

If only he could see me now, or if anyone were to see me now. They would be so ashamed and admittedly I would be so embarrassed, but who could really blame me? I wasn’t getting any younger and the love between my husband and I wasn’t getting any better.

I would never be treated this way by him. Not this good. Not so thoroughly and properly…like a real woman, by a real man.

Staring into your eyes, my mouth hanging partially open and my nipples hard as a rock against your fingers, you glared intently at me.

We both moaned together breathlessly and you began to pick up the pace, pounding into me relentlessly and almost mercilessly. I didn’t think it was possible but you went even deeper now, I could swear you were hitting my cervix and I could feel you and see a small imprint pushing up against my stomach when I glanced down.

“How does this feel?” you asked, grasping at my hips now.

“A-amazing,” I moaned, “Y-your cock is so amazing, I feel so fucking good, please don’t stop, I need you…!”

“I bet your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” you teased. “I bet you wish you could have a cock like this pounding in and out of you every night, don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Can your husband make you cum like this? Hmm?”

“N-no, only you…only you.” I grabbed your arms and moaned louder now, more wildly now and with no censorship. I just couldn’t control myself any longer. It was impossible as I was coming completely undone and being turned inside out—from the devoted, pining housewife to the horny, adulterous slut fucking her repairman.

“Oh? Only me? *Only* me? You are *such* a good girl,” you praised.

“Oh my fucking God, I love when you call me that,” I moaned.

“That’s because deep down, you know that’s what you are. A good but naughty little girl, getting fucked by another man in her husband’s bed, your sweet cunt dripping for me and your pretty little mouth spilling out such filthy, inappropriate words. Begging to be sexed up.”

“I-I’m really gonna cum again!” I stammered, throwing my head back.

You started fucking into me at an almost impossible speed now, hard and as rough as I’ve been craving for years, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my entire body. You watched in adoration as my breasts bounced to your thrusts. I began to shake and shudder against you again as I gripped onto you even tighter.

“Cum for me, sweet girl, you deserve to feel this fucking good,” you said approvingly.

You grunted and moaned with me, holding me down even tighter as you continued your final thrusts, both of us climaxing at the same time. How amazing it was to feel a cock pulsate and twitch inside of me again. To hear a man pant and grunt because of my body and my tight pussy. It was almost so heavenly and insanely pleasurable that I completely forgot we were unprotected and you were shooting your hot, sticky load inside of me.

But when I realized, I also realized that I didn’t care. That I *wanted* your seed inside of me. Proof that I had been fucked so properly and deeply like no other man has ever been able to before, marking your newfound ownership of a brand new slut. Because this was certainly not going to be the last we saw of each other. Not after fucking so good like this.

I knew that you felt just as much when you collapsed on the bed on top of me after pulling out, holding me closely to your warm body.

We were both breathing pretty heavily, trying to catch our breath, and I was just a panting, sweaty mess of a girl lying there. Fucked out and drooling, eyes half-lidded and my head above the clouds. I haven’t felt this relaxed in a *long* time.

“Th-thank you, ____. That was amazing,” I finally whispered.

“You’re amazing,” was all you could say back after you kissed my cheek.

And with that, we fell asleep together on the bed, exhausted and with your cum dripping and leaking out of me onto the bedsheets. It wouldn’t be until an hour or so later when we realized that in the heat of the moment, I had left the knife lying on the kitchen floor to have its leftover contents lapped up by my Siamese.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/mksqyu/a_dead_bedroom_leads_to_a_good_fucking_by_the