She was daydreaming when the phone rang.
It would be the furnace guy, of course, here to do the winter inspection. She and her boyfriend were first time home owners, and they were doing everything by the book. It had been a stressful but fun two months since they moved in, and she was just now starting to feel at home in the new place with the three of them—her, him, and their golden retriever Max.
Her boyfriend—now domestic partner, she supposed—wasn’t home this morning. He was at the hospital, where they both worked. She didn’t mind dealing with the furnace guy alone, but she did hope he wouldn’t be a creep. She wasn’t afraid, per se, as she had Max, and of course her cell phone with her. But nonetheless she hoped, with a note of irritation, that he would be strictly professional.
When the phone rang, she was wearing a loose button up flannel with one of her nicer bras underneath, a pair of tight but comfortable jeans, and socks. Her hair was up in a cute, messy bun. She answered the phone. She confirmed the address and said she’d meet him out front in just a minute.
When he stepped out of his truck she was relieved. He was an older guy, probably late fifties, with a warm and friendly demeanor. A little rough around the edges, sure—sweat stained hat, beat up work boots—but he carried himself upright. They introduced themselves. He was courteous and easygoing. She noticed, also, a wedding ring. She led him into the basement.
She figured she’d get him set up with the furnace and then head upstairs to sort through some bills, but as their introductory chit chat continued on the walk to the basement and then while she was showing him the furnace, she found that the conversation naturally carried on. She didn’t mind this. In fact, she realized that it was nice to have someone to talk to, and figured he probably felt the same.
He set about opening up the furnace, tinkering around, as their small talk continued. Her referred to her politely throughout as ‘Miss,’ though they had exchanged names. He asked what she did. She told him about being an ER nurse, shared some stories. He mentioned his sister was a medical assistant, back in his hometown. He talked about his kids, indulging in some pride about the youngest one’s violin lessons and recitals. She talked about being a new home owner. At one point the golden retriever came bounding down the basement steps, and she introduced the two before letting the dog into the backyard. She offered to make some coffee. He accepted.
When she came back down with two fresh mugs, she noticed for the first time his eyes quickly go up and down her body as she walked back in the room. It was a harmless glance. She got no bad vibes from him whatsoever. In fact, one of her favorite things was when a man knew how to subtly acknowledge attraction, to let you know with his eyes and his smile that he was noticing you, but that he also knew how to be polite and contain himself. And he was a man, after all, one who right now was alone in a basement with an attractive young woman who was not his wife.
She leaned back along the work table by the wall and continued chatting as he took a few sips of the coffee and then set it down, turning back to the furnace. But now, there was a new theme playing in her mind. She found herself wondering just how he’d react if she started flirting with him. Would he get flustered? Would he start dropping his tools everywhere? She laughed to herself, but each time she thought about it, a little heat started to build up in her stomach and her groin.
Their friendly talk continued but, in fact, she was getting really distracted now, realizing how much the situation was turning her on. She wondered if he was completely unsuspecting. Yes, he had given her that glance—a few times now, in fact—but could he tell, in the distracted tones of her shortening replies, that she was getting lost in a fantasy? She hoped not. Or maybe she hoped so. She switched the direction her legs were crossed as she was leaning against the work table, and added a little extra pressure as she did. She felt a warm spark.
She started playing a little game with herself—all while continuing to answer “Mhm,” and “Yep,” to his small talk—a game of convincing herself that she was actually going to do it, actually going to make a pass at him. She knew she wasn’t. Surely, she wasn’t. But every time she pictured going through with it the heat built up more and more. Her neck and face were warm now. She hoped they weren’t red. She crossed her legs again and felt another spark shoot off between them. She was almost completely lost in herself and her fantasy, when he stood up and spoke.
“All done,” he said.
“Oh!” she smiled, regaining herself momentarily.
He got all his paperwork set up on the work table, and she signed and kept her copy of the bill. He gathered up his tools and she prepared to lead him out, but before she did, she stopped.
“Listen, I really appreciate you coming out and taking care of everything,” she said.
“It’s no problem at all,” he smiled.
She looked in his eyes. There was a pause between them. She didn’t decide until the last second that she was actually going to do it.
“I wonder…is there anything I could do to show you how much I appreciate it?”
“Miss?” She noticed that he swallowed once. He started absently folding up his copy of the bill, then unfolded it again. He gave a short nervous laugh. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he said.
She stood up straight.
“Perhaps there’s something—” she gestured with her hands down the length of her body, “something that you’d like to see. Or maybe touch?”
He swallowed again and took his hat off. “Miss, I’m married.” He broke her gaze and looked down at his ring. He spun it around once, slowly on his finger.
“I know,” she said. “You mentioned. In fact, I have a partner myself. Most of the time anyway,” she smiled.
“Oh,” he stammered, “I wasn’t sure if you were on your own. I apologize for not asking. When you said you were a registered nurse I figured maybe you were. A lot of young women these days are, you know, going after careers and such. Maybe not thinking about families, I guess—”
“It’s fine,” she laughed and cut him off. He was very nervous now, but she could see that he hadn’t made a firm choice to change the subject or leave the house. “Listen, it’s just an offer,” she said. Her words were polite, but she was speaking slowly and looking directly in his eyes. “The last thing I’d want to do is put you in an awkward position.”
He didn’t say anything in reply, but drew a deep breath. She kept looking at his eyes, but she thought she could see the vague outline of an erection starting to grow in his pants in the corner of her vision. She took a step towards him.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she said.
“It’s not that,” he said.
“What is it then?”
He paused. She could see that he was breathing deeply now. He set his hat down on the very furnace he had been there to service. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.
“It’s just that I’ve never…”
“I wasn’t implying you were the type,” she laughed. “In fact, I think you’re a big sweetie. And I’m a good person too, but I don’t see what that has to do with me giving you a little token of my appreciation? Just this once, when no one else knows, here in my basement…”
He stood for another moment, breathing. Considering.
“Well, I guess, the way I see it is…” he said.
“Yes?”
“The way I see it, I suppose, is if I’m just standing here—and I did already say that I’m a married fellow—but if I just happen to be standing here, then I guess whatever you choose to do while I’m standing here is more or less up to you.” He was looking down at the floor as he said this.
“I think I understand,” she said.
“I suppose I just couldn’t *ask* you to do anything like that while I was standing here. That just wouldn’t seem quite right to me.”
“Well then, I guess I won’t make you ask…” she said, and as she did, he looked up and saw her slowly unbutton the top of her flannel. She pulled the collar away from her neck and off her shoulder, exposing her bra strap. She undid the next button, and now he could see the tiny decorative bow on the front of her bra. She pulled the half undone flannel all the way to the side, so that hear breast was showing. He noticed the outline of her nipple through the sheer material of her bra. She cupped her breast and ran her thumb along the fabric above her nipple until it stiffened. He stared at her. Slowly, she pulled the bra strap off of her shoulder and tucked the cup of her bra under the breast so that it was fully exposed, the nipple now completely full and hard.
“Do you want to touch me?” she asked.
He coughed and ran his hand through his hair again. “That’s probably something I really can’t do, Miss. I really don’t think—It’s not that I wouldn’t—”
“I understand,” she said, and pulled the bra and the flannel back over her breast. But at this, his eyes grew wide. He seemed desperate, conflicted.
“So, you don’t want me to stop, then,” she asked, smiling.
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He only kept looking at her body, at her now covered breast. She waited for a moment, and then turned around so that her back was facing him. She undid the button of her jeans and pulled the zipper down. With one hand she gathered the bottom of her flannel and pulled it up in front of her, exposing her lower back, while with the other she tugged slightly at the waist of the jeans, pulling them down just an inch. She bent forward slightly and paused, before pulling the jeans down further, until she was halfway exposed. She waited here for a moment, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. She spoke softly, “Do you like what you see?”
“Yes,” he cleared his throat, “I do.”
From where she was standing she was within reach of the washer and dryer. She pulled her jeans the rest of the way down and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of each leg. She steadied herself with one arm on the washer and, one at a time, reached down and took off her socks. She set them neatly on top of the dryer. She was completely naked from the waist down. She pulled the flannel up higher, gathering it in front of her, exposing more of her back. She leaned forward and propped her elbows onto the washer, bending over it, still looking back at him.
“Come here,” she said.
“Miss, I can’t…I really…” he said, but he walked towards her anyway, until he was standing just a foot behind her naked lower body.
She didn’t say anything, but slid her fingers between her legs and started rubbing herself. He could see her fingers moving from behind, first rubbing against her clit, then pressing ever so slightly inside of her, now pulling out and rubbing again. He could see that they were wet. He moved closer.
“Miss, please…”
But she gently shushed him. She was close enough to reach him, so she took both of his hands and placed them around her waist. He felt her smooth skin under his hands. She slowly pushed herself back onto him, and she could clearly feel the bulge in his pants pressing against her.
“Oh, my god…” he said.
She started pressing herself into him rhythmically. She could hear his breathing. She could feel his dick getting even harder.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” he whimpered.
She reached back and started to undo his buckle.
“Please, no…” he said, but made no move to stop her. She got his belt undone. She unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them. She tugged down his underwear and pulled his dick free, grasping it firmly for just a moment before guiding it onto her lower back. She held it there, against herself, with her hand. She felt him begin to move back and forth, but not for long. He sighed, and within just a moment of his penis touching her, merely one or two strokes against her smooth skin, she felt a hot spurt shoot up her lower back. Then another, and another, covering her fingers.
He groaned and stepped back, inhaling and exhaling loudly. Smiling, she looked over hear shoulder again.
“I guess you know how much I appreciate it now,” she said.
He didn’t answer, only stood there regaining his breath.
***
She was daydreaming when the phone rang.
It would be the furnace guy, of course. The buzzing of the phone snapped her out of her daydream. Answering the call, she confirmed the address and said she’d meet him out front in just a minute. From upstairs, her boyfriend called down.
“Honey, was that the furnace guy?”
“Yep!” she replied. “I got it.”
She thought to herself how good it felt to get completely carried away by a fantasy like that and, quickly checking to make sure there wasn’t a wet spot on her pants, she got up to meet the furnace guy.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/7t7tcv/the_furnace_guy_fm