This story was copied from a yahoo group, and will post it here with some pics dowloaded from this site, for visual illustration.
I called my dispatcher, Donna. She said, “Mario, let me run a name past you: Cheryl Palmer. Does that name ring a bell?” “No, should it?” I asked.
“Yes. She’s a customer that you serviced just a few days ago and she’s already calling back complaining that her pipes won’t stop leaking since you came out there.” I scrolled through my mental rolodex of customers that I’d serviced in the last few days. I remembered Cheryl Palmer. She was a fox, quite a few years older than me but sexy as hell and very flirtatious.
I said, “Donna, I apologize about the pipes, but they were working fine when I left and she seemed happy. She even gave me a twenty-dollar tip.”
“Regardless of that, she still made a re-call, so this time I want you to get it right. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
[FONT=Times
New Roman]She read off Ms. Palmer’s address. I don’t have the best memory in the world, but for some reason, that address didn’t sound right. [/FONT]
“Be prompt,” Donna said. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I’ll do that.”
She hung up without saying goodbye. I slammed the phone down and called her every curse word I could think of. I checked my watch after I calmed down. I wanted—no, I needed to finish masturbating, but I didn’t have very much time to get to where I was going so I bookmarked Nasty Napster and disconnected from the Internet.
Not only did the address seem different, the drive to Cheryl’s house seemed different too. This neighborhood was a lot nicer than what I remembered. This was a more expensive area with great landscaping and houses the size of small apartment buildings. It didn’t look familiar at all. Something just wasn’t right.
She even answered the door in a strange way—on the first knock. I usually had to wait a minute for the customer to get to the door. But the person who opened the door was indeed the woman who had been flirting with me a couple days earlier. The only difference was she looked a lot better today. Her makeup and hair was done and she was wearing some kind of one-piece, wrap-around skirt that looked like she’d taken it out of an old Japanese movie. It was very colorful and showed an ample amount of cleavage.
“Hi, you called?” I said as I struggled to keep my gaze focused on her eyes instead of her breasts. My cock started sliding down my leg. She stepped to the side to let me in. “I think I have a leak under the sink. You could come take a look at it,” she said. She closed the door and locked it.
I wasn’t sure if Cheryl remembered me, but she showed no signs of recognition. I followed her through the house and complimented her on it just to see her reaction. There was none. She just said thanks and kept leading the way.
We arrived at a small bathroom just beyond the stairs. “It’s in there,” she pointed. I took a look in the half-bathroom. There wasn’t any water on the floor, nor a bucket under the faucet to catch leaking water. “Under the sink?” I asked, dumbfounded.
I sat on the floor to get a better look, examined every inch of pipe carefully. “I don’t see a leak.” “Well, there’s gotta be because I’m feeling all wet all over,” said Cheryl.
I looked up. She had that sexy expression from a few days ago when she was flirting with me and I thought maybe she was doing it again. There was something sexual in the way she said her last statement.
“Excuse me?” I chuckled.
Her wrap-around was split in the front and I could see glimpses on her bald pussy as she smiled and stepped over my outstretched legs. My cock reacted immediately and started sliding a little farther down my thigh.
“Here, I’ll show you,” said Cheryl.
She kneeled in front of me with her legs spread wide apart. She opened the skirt fully, revealing a pouty cunt with traces of juice between the lips.
“Oh, my god!” I blurted. It was obvious what she wanted and I felt the same way.
To be continued...
I called my dispatcher, Donna. She said, “Mario, let me run a name past you: Cheryl Palmer. Does that name ring a bell?” “No, should it?” I asked.
“Yes. She’s a customer that you serviced just a few days ago and she’s already calling back complaining that her pipes won’t stop leaking since you came out there.” I scrolled through my mental rolodex of customers that I’d serviced in the last few days. I remembered Cheryl Palmer. She was a fox, quite a few years older than me but sexy as hell and very flirtatious.
I said, “Donna, I apologize about the pipes, but they were working fine when I left and she seemed happy. She even gave me a twenty-dollar tip.”
“Regardless of that, she still made a re-call, so this time I want you to get it right. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
[FONT=Times
New Roman]She read off Ms. Palmer’s address. I don’t have the best memory in the world, but for some reason, that address didn’t sound right. [/FONT]
“Be prompt,” Donna said. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I’ll do that.”
She hung up without saying goodbye. I slammed the phone down and called her every curse word I could think of. I checked my watch after I calmed down. I wanted—no, I needed to finish masturbating, but I didn’t have very much time to get to where I was going so I bookmarked Nasty Napster and disconnected from the Internet.
Not only did the address seem different, the drive to Cheryl’s house seemed different too. This neighborhood was a lot nicer than what I remembered. This was a more expensive area with great landscaping and houses the size of small apartment buildings. It didn’t look familiar at all. Something just wasn’t right.
She even answered the door in a strange way—on the first knock. I usually had to wait a minute for the customer to get to the door. But the person who opened the door was indeed the woman who had been flirting with me a couple days earlier. The only difference was she looked a lot better today. Her makeup and hair was done and she was wearing some kind of one-piece, wrap-around skirt that looked like she’d taken it out of an old Japanese movie. It was very colorful and showed an ample amount of cleavage.
“Hi, you called?” I said as I struggled to keep my gaze focused on her eyes instead of her breasts. My cock started sliding down my leg. She stepped to the side to let me in. “I think I have a leak under the sink. You could come take a look at it,” she said. She closed the door and locked it.
I wasn’t sure if Cheryl remembered me, but she showed no signs of recognition. I followed her through the house and complimented her on it just to see her reaction. There was none. She just said thanks and kept leading the way.
We arrived at a small bathroom just beyond the stairs. “It’s in there,” she pointed. I took a look in the half-bathroom. There wasn’t any water on the floor, nor a bucket under the faucet to catch leaking water. “Under the sink?” I asked, dumbfounded.
I sat on the floor to get a better look, examined every inch of pipe carefully. “I don’t see a leak.” “Well, there’s gotta be because I’m feeling all wet all over,” said Cheryl.
I looked up. She had that sexy expression from a few days ago when she was flirting with me and I thought maybe she was doing it again. There was something sexual in the way she said her last statement.
“Excuse me?” I chuckled.
Her wrap-around was split in the front and I could see glimpses on her bald pussy as she smiled and stepped over my outstretched legs. My cock reacted immediately and started sliding a little farther down my thigh.
“Here, I’ll show you,” said Cheryl.
She kneeled in front of me with her legs spread wide apart. She opened the skirt fully, revealing a pouty cunt with traces of juice between the lips.
“Oh, my god!” I blurted. It was obvious what she wanted and I felt the same way.
To be continued...
