Joy Repair

by Angie M. Brashears

  “Look at me, Sally. I say fuck that guy. Anyone cowardly enough to break up with someone during quarantine doesn’t deserve you.” Eyes full of conviction, he sounds so serious.

  “Yeah, fuck that guy,” I murmur.

  “It’s no wonder you’re so stressed. I’ll have this fixed for you in a jiff.”

  6

  So much for the jiff. Half an hour later the repairman rains on my parade. “Six weeks, are you sure?” Turns out the motherboard’s fried and just my luck, that item is on permanent backorder.

  Hopes dashed, I feel like crying. “Can’t they just ship a replacement?”

  Packing up the tiny surgical tools, he tries to explain. “Normally yes, but this is the opposite of normal.”

  “Tell me about it.” It’s not his fault, but I lay on the guilt. “How am I ever going to get to sleep now?”

  Incredulous, he stops what he’s doing. “Wait, this weed whacker puts you to sleep? That’s a first.”

  “Honestly it gives my mind something to do besides worry about well, everything.”

  Pack shouldered, regret darkens his eyes. “And I wish I could help you with that. It’s just, the factories all shut down. My company isn’t filling any orders. No one is. After that threatened strike on the news, everyone’s afraid to. I even had second thoughts about taking this service call, but I firmly believe, orgasms should stay essential.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying. Hey, are you sure A2Z didn’t send you to spy on me?“ I’m only half joking.

  Perplexed, he asks. “Why would they do that?”

  I try to look innocent, but it’s too hard. “All I wanted was a little comfort during these trying times. I never meant to start Vibratorgate.”

  Stunned by my honesty, it takes him a minute. “Don’t tell me that unicorn horn they torched was yours?”

  I raise my hand. “Guilty.”

  He throws back his head and bellows out a laugh. A full throaty sound that nudges up against my funny bone. I’m not ready to laugh like that yet, one day I’ll see the humor in it.

  Right now, I’m feeling a bit uneasy. What he said about no one making anymore vibrators begins to sink in. Give it a couple of weeks and I’ll be banging on the neighbor’s door. Instead of a cup of sugar, I’ll be asking to borrow their vibrators. Casing the neighborhood, ringing a brass bell. “Bring out your vibrators.”

  Before he goes, he hesitates behind my chair.

  “All set?” I ask brightly but my voice sounds brittle.

  “Not quite. I feel bad that I couldn’t fix it. There has to be something I can do to make it all better.”

  A comforting hand rests on my shoulder. Famished for contact, I grip onto it like a lifeline. Holy crap, is he saying he’s open for business?

  Just stop and think about this for a minute, would you?

  In polite society, I’d be expected to run from an offer like that. But those high society bitches never went this long without a vibrator, and certainly not in a time where touch is forbidden making it that much more desirable. I turn in my chair so I can search for truth in his smoky eyes. It’s there but the way he’s licking the corners of his lips, hard to tell if he’s ready to laugh or he sees something he likes.

  Looks like it’s up to me. But what if I’m wrong? Alone too long, maybe I’m seeing propositions when none have been offered. There’s a law against sexually harassing essential workers for this very reason. Essential Worship they call it.

  Shaking my head, I choose my words carefully. “Unless you’ve got a spare vibrator in your pocket, I can’t see how you could help me. You’re going to have to spell it out.”

  His firm grip tightens on both of my shoulders. A gentle massage starts. Methodical and slow, working out the tension. Strong fingers dig into my knotted areas and rub out my stress. Too soon, his touch softens to a gentle caress at the base of my neck.

  I’m putty in his hands.

  Bet he’s a good lay.

  Moaning, I tilt my head to the side inviting him to go farther.

  Behind me, his heavy backpack drops to the ground.

  “Looks like we won’t need that part after all.” Hot breath against my neck, but it’s his lips. Thick and wet, a closed mouth kiss drags across my beating pulse. The soft scratch of his beard.

  Breathless, I ask. “What are we doing?”

  “Getting your money’s worth.” His lips tug on my earlobe before he bites it.

  “That’s so good.” I moan, and with two quick jerks of my hips, I come right on my kitchen chair.

  “Just an appetizer. We’ve got all night.”

  As if awakening from a dream, I open my eyes and remember where I am. Seated facing the picture window in my living room. Mr. Kirby from next door is out in his everyday golf attire walking his poodle, Nipsy. Leash in hand, he’s ogling the vibrator repairman servicing me.

  Bent at the waist, I try to hide. “Holy shit, my peeping tom neighbor.”

  His hand traces the curve of my spine. A throaty suggestion in my ear. “Let’s take this somewhere more private.”

  Fingers intertwined, I pull him towards my bedroom.

  7

  Behind the closed door, he pulls me close.

  The hard press of his cock against my soft ass, the feel of a man is the most potent intoxication. There’s no music but I’m rubbing against him like I’m working for tips

  Rolling up the sides of my tank, he slides it over my head.

  Boobs bouncing free, I turn to face him.

  Cupping my breasts, he flicks my aching nipples. Hungry eyes begging for more, he pinches. “Like that?”

  “Yes. It’s so good. Don’t stop, I want to remember this. Everything. Especially that sexy look in your eyes.”

  “Like I want the taste of your tight pussy dripping on my lips? Cause I do. More than anything.”

  Groaning, that lusty confession leaves my legs shaking. At this rate, I’m gonna be spent before we make it to the actual sex.

  “Too much too soon, big guy. Still trying to get my sea legs. Need a minute. No movement, no talking. I want to sexplore you.” He opens his mouth, and I bar his lips from forming objections. "And no questions. Are you in?”

  Hastily kicking off his boots, I’d say he is. “You do me, then I get to do you, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “I like it.”

  “Take off your clothes,” I direct him. “Alexa, give me something sexy. But make it slow.” I need some music for what’s about to unfold here.

  Totally into it, the edge of his work shirt is untucked. A slow reveal of scrumptious contours. Tanned skin against a black leather belt. God, he looks good under there. Fit, toned, healthy. Like that olive branch returned to Noah, his virility gives me hope.

  Biting my lower lip to stop the spreading smile, I direct him to my bed.

  “Push those pillows out of the way.”

  After a bounce test, he’s stretched out on my bed, fully fucking naked. Fantasies tapped out, I don’t know what to do next.

  Sensing my trepidation, his hand slides down his chest and grips his cock as incentive. Tugging and yanking at it like it could be bigger.

  “It’s perfect. In case you’re wondering, you put the Joy-1000 to shame.”

  The longing in his eyes turns to lust. “You said something about Sexploring. Go on, touch it.”

  Crawling up on the bed, a slow ripple of desire radiates within. Intensifying with every brush of my knee against his bronzed skin. Begging for my touch, simmering eyes follow my progress. My imagination begs for some sexy back story, but I can’t go there. As it is, come’s dripping down my legs.

  Snagging his discarded shirt, I press the soft material to his face. Unsure, he raises his cloaked head. “So we’re clear. We’re still fucking right?”

  Straddling his narrow waist, I lean close to answer. “Yes, but we’re being naughty. Much too close.”

  Buried beneath the makeshift mask, his lips press against the s
hirt and I brush them with my own. The material vibrates from his breathy moan. “Suck on my neck.”

  Beneath me, his hips gyrate as I lick the side of his neck. My taste buds relish the unfamiliar soap, the light tang of sweat left behind from this morning’s workout. The taste of him blows all my stale sex fantasies out the window. Everything may change, but one thing is always the same. Nothing compares to a real fucking man.

  Greedy and grasping at his pecs, my nails are too sharp.

  A hiss from his lips stops me.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

  “Shh. You didn’t. Do it harder.” Holding tight to my wrist, he drags my hand down his chest hard enough to leave pink marks. “Just like that. Now kiss it better.”

  Desperate for more, I do as he asks. His demanding tone eggs me on. Greedy for the taste of his cock, each press of my lips brings me closer.

  Pre-Corona, a B.J. was just something to get out of the way in hopes of a do onto others' situation, but right now? I’m in it. All the way, and I’m looking forward to this.

  The sight of his precum has me licking my lips.

  What does another person’s pleasure taste like? It’s been so long, I don't even remember.

  Dragging my tongue across the tip, the taste reminds me how good it is to make someone the object of my desire. I take my time and live in this one moment, which he appreciates.

  Moaning and clenching a fistful of my hair, I know he’s enjoying it. Devouring the tip, I suck him into my mouth until I feel the thickness at the back of my throat. Normally I’d stop, but this time I go even further. Stretching pushing, I swallow him down before sucking my way back up for air.

  Fingers outstretched, he demands. “Gimme your pussy.”

  Sucking faster, I shift to give him access. He yanks down my panties like I’m in for a spanking. I shake my ass but it’s my pussy he’s after.

  Long fingers laze around in my wetness, twisting, rubbing.

  “That makes my pussy feel so good,” I purr around his huge cock.

  Sucking to the stroking rhythm, I’m riding his finger hard when he says. “My turn.”

  Suckling the tip of his cock, I nod a vigorous yes.

  Muffled, he asks. “Only I’m going to need my mouth. Okay to take this off?"

  What? I look up and his face is still shrouded. “You’ve been wearing the mask the whole time?”

  “Of course. Wanted to make sure you felt safe. Are we good?”

  “Yes,” I giggle and lay back to wait my turn.

  His wet tongue lashes my nipples into submission. I’m helpless to stop the air fucking my pussy’s doing. Clutching his head between my breasts, I can’t take much more of this. Desperate with need, I pout, “Hey. You said.”

  My nipple pops out of his mouth. “With pleasure.”

  His work roughened hands slide between my thighs. So close he barely taps my needy cleft before pushing my legs open. Leaning back on his heels, he stops to admire my glistening folds. I know it’s supposed to be some sort of a compliment, but even I don't watch my pussy when she comes. Chills run through me as he explores my overgrown bush. Giving it a little tug, he whispers. “I like it.”

  “We haven’t been to the hairdresser in a while.” My legs start to drift closed, but he smacks them apart.

  “I said I like it. Open.” He looks hungry, but it’s been awhile since we’ve had diners.

  Thighs shaking, I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. “It’s gonna take me a minute to get used to a real man down there. It been me and the Joy-1000 for the last few months.”

  “Well, I’m here now. It’s okay, you can relax.” Kissing each wet thigh sweetly he dives in. Rubs his face all in it, breathing my scent, licking my come. Long slow strokes of his tongue so he doesn’t miss a drop. One after the other. Over and over.

  “Yes, yes, yes.”

  Limbs tangled in the sheet, my pussy’s begging to be fed. Between moans, I try to ask nicely. “I need your big cock in me now!”

  Chuckling, he places one last kiss on my clit. “C’mon then gorgeous. Hop aboard.”

  Out of practice, the walls of my pussy shake and tremble before granting him access. Muscles I haven’t used in forever groan from disuse. “Holy shit, you’re huge.”

  “It’s all the jacking off I’ve been doing.”

  "Right?”

  Seated on his glorious cock we share a smile. Tentatively, I start to move. Back and forth I find my rhythm. Biting his lower lip, his eyes crawl over my bouncing tits.

  “Your boobs are on point.”

  “Fuck!” That one uttered compliment sends me over the edge. I splash into pure ecstasy. Limbs shaking, muscles burning, weary from orgasm overload, I know I'm starting to lag.

  Both his hands clutch my hips before I fall off. Not even winded, he asks. "Okay, if I take over for a bit?"

  “Be my guest.”

  "Giddy-up," he growls.

  Hugging me close, he sits to lean against the backboard. Arms wrapped around his neck, surrounded by sex, the velvety lusciousness of his mouth pressed to mine. Grunting, his thick cock impales me again and again as he tops from the bottom.

  The feel of his panting breath on my overheated skin is bringing another orgasm any second now.

  Riding the orgasm wave again, I come like I never could with the Joy-1000, making noise and crying out like only a man can make you do. Boneless, I fall into a heap onto the mattress. Reaching down with both hands, I make sure my pussy’s still attached after all that.

  Feeling shamelessly slutty, I realize I never even got his name.

  When he tells me, I can’t help but laugh. “Seriously? There’s no way your names Bob.” Giggling, I can’t help but ask. “For real?”

  But he just gives me a blank stare. “What?”

  “Come on, it’s delicious. A vibrator repair man named Bob.”

  Straight faced he says. “I prefer Bobby but what’s so funny?”

  “You know battery operated boyfriend.”

  Perplexed, he shrugs. “Never heard of it.”

  “That’s surprising. I must be your only client with a dirty mind, but I highly doubt it. Maybe I’m just only one with big enough tits to say it aloud.”

  “You’re the only one to see me naked, that’s for sure. Now bring those big tits over here.”

  Snuggled in his arms, he’s the first to bring it up. “We exchanged a hell of a lot of fluids. Might have to quarantine together.”

  Must have got a taste for something he likes. I sure did.

  Keeping my voice playful, I touch his cool forehead. “Feels like you’ve got a fever coming on.”

  “Can you stand to have me? It looks like we're stuck together for two weeks?" he hints.

  Giggling, I point my thumb up. “More.”

  “Better rest up then.”

  He places a kiss on top of my head just before his breathing evens out to a low snore. I’m dangling on the edge of sleep too when a noise jerks me awake.

  Did we lock the front door? Is my socially conscious burglar back?

  Anxious, I reach over and tap his burly arm. Rubbing his eyes, he snaps wide awake. “Huh. Yeah, what’s up?”

  “I was just checking. Go back to sleep.”

  Beside him, I drift into a peaceful-drooling on the pillow-slumber with a light sleeper hogging the covers.

  Even if the lockdown gets lifted, please don't wake us.

  The End

  Orgasms are Essential. Share me with your friends if you agree. https://www.polkadotauthor.com/

  Not ready for it to be over yet? Me neither. Here’s a sneak peek at Quarentimeout 2

  Love Glove

  I envy those who get to quarantine alone. I’m shut in with my sixty-eight-year old mother. Can’t find a nursing home that will take her. Even before all this, she was put on the Geriatric “Do No Return” list. Mom’s got an awful tic. She never shuts up.

  “No toilet paper, not even napkins! This is tyranny. Tha
t’s when I asked for the Manager. Took his sweet time getting to me too. My ride on cart was just about out of power and I hope they didn’t expect me to push that heavy sucker back…”

  “Shhhh! The Surgeon General is on.”

  “…and I told him, now push me back inside where it’s warm. I’m about to catch my death out here. Early shopping my eye, they’re just trying to freeze us to death, Penelope!”

  I crack my neck, search around for the remote but the segment is over. “Great Ma. Now we missed it.”

  “What. What’d we miss?” My dad’s old reading glasses make her eyes look comically big. I’ve bought her at least sixty pairs of her own, but she insists my late father’s old ones are the best. That’s why she never misses a thing. “It’s right there in the ticker across the bottom. Oh Penelope. Did I ever tell you about the time the city of Boston gave me a ticker-tape parade? Marching band and everything, that was way back, even before you were born…”

  Ears filled with floats and confetti, I try to keep up with the fast moving words across the bottom of the screen.

  A prominent soft-spoken doctor recently announced on Snapchat that it’s perfectly acceptable to “hook up” on Tinder during a pandemic.

  What the hell was the Surgeon General doing on Tinder?

  After hyperventilating into my mask—mom refuses to wear one—I began to wonder. Exactly who was the sex addict that asked about Tinder at a time like this and would he or she have their press pass revoked?

  Sex during a pandemic. I mean what would that even look like?

  A blue tarp with a hole cut in the middle most likely. For sure, I’d cut the hole beforehand. Hmm. It might work.

  Until mom busts in carrying baked goods from a recipe she found on Pinterest, yapping about moistness the whole time.

  She’d take one look at my Tinder man covered in plastic and there’s be no stopping her. “What’s this a crime scene? Poor guy can’t even breathe.”

  There I’d be, naked and stomping my foot. “Mom get out.”