David Crane: Hot peeping wife

Norman Silvia was talking to his friends in the local bar.

"I mean; you expect milkmen to get fucked, right?" he was saying. "You expect horny housewives to fuck meter readers and gardeners. But you ever hear of a carpenter getting any pussy? I ask you!"

Norman was a carpenter. He was wearing blue overalls with lots of pockets for hammers and screwdrivers and tools and such – tools with a splotch of congealed cum on the fly. Norman was a tall, thin fellow, with the brawny forearms of his trade – the muscles developed by having turned a million screws and pounded a million nails – lank, dark hair and a sallow face. Normally he was unhappy with his lot because he wanted to be an architect rather than a common carpenter, but today, he was bubbling over with enthusiasm.

"So what happened?" one of his friends asked, knowing Norman was going to tell them the tale whether they asked or not. Usually he bored them by talking about the latest fish he had caught, so they figured that this story could only be an improvement.

And they had noticed the cum on his fly, as well.

There just had to be an interesting story behind that.

Looking smug and satisfied, Norman said: "Well, I'm here to tell you that carpenters get some pussy too!"

He gulped some beer and launched himself into the tale.

That morning, Norman, who was listed in the Yellow Pages, had got a telephone call from the Shady Nook Motel. The motel had just come under new management, and some minor carpentry was required. Norman, thinking nothing of it, had driven over and lugged his toolbox into the office. Carl Jefferson, the new manager, was at the desk when Norman came in.

"Oh, yes, the workman," he said.

"Carpenter," Norman corrected.

"My wife will show you what is to be done," Jefferson said. Then he called through to the back. "Darling! The workman is here will you show him what to do?"

Marlene Jefferson came out from the back, and Norman's eyes had popped out like hard boiled eggs. Marlene was a very sexy piece. Norman was divorced. His wife had been fat and had warts, and still she had left him for another man. Norman, although he had a big prick, had never had much luck with the ladies. And he sure wished he could have some luck with a lady like Mrs. Jefferson.

She was tall and willowy.

She had a wild mane of red hair all tousled over her cheeks and neck, as if she had just come tumbling from the midst of some energetic orgy and wouldn't mind tumbling right back in. Her green eyes were slightly tilted up at the corners and her lips looked as if they had been specifically designed for sucking on pricks. They were full, sensual and erotic.

She was wearing a jade-green jumpsuit that matched the color of her eyes, and she had left the zipper undone at the neck so that the full cleavage of her thrusting tits could be seen, almost to the nipples. Those nipples, pressing out in clear definition against the jumpsuit, offered definite proof that she was not wearing a bra.

She knew she was sexy – no doubt of that. The way she looked at him gave him a thrill. He didn't think anything would come of it, of course, but he was getting excited just looking at her. She told him to follow her, and he did so, his tongue almost hanging out, like a dog in pursuit of a bitch in heat. Her heart shaped ass swayed erotically as she led the way across the courtyard to one of the motel units.

A maid emerged from another of the units. She had red hair, too, and green eyes and looked a great deal like Mrs. Jefferson, in a slimmer, younger fashion.

"Hi, Mom," she said.

"Just about finished with the rooms, Jeannie?" the older woman asked, pausing by the roll cart.

Well, that explains why they look alike, Norman thought.

The girl was as sexy as her mother – more so, if anything. The double delight was getting to him, and he felt his cock begin to stir and harden. He hoped that he would be left alone to get on with his carpentry so that he would have a chance to give his prick a good hand sawing. Norman, unlucky with women, tended to jack himself off quite a lot. His skilled carpenter's hands, firm grip and deft touch made him quite handy at the job.

Jeannie moved on, pushing the cart, and Mrs. Jefferson led him on to one of the farther units. They went in. The bed was made. It made Norman feel nervous to be alone in a room with a bed and a redhead. Maybe I'll lie down on the bed when I whack off, he thought.

"I want you to bore two holes through this wall," Marlene Jefferson was instructing him. "Here and – here."

"How come?"

"Is that any concern of yours?" she asked. But she gave him an amused smile as she spoke.

"Well, no – but if I do that, you're going to have holes through into the room next door," he explained.

"Precisely."

"But why would you want that?"

Now her smile was very provocative, and she said: "Why, so that we can look through, of course."

Norman gulped.

"Have you any objections?" she asked.

"What are you, lady – some sort of pervert?" he rasped.

"Ummm," she said, brightly. "My husband and I are both voyeurs." She realized that Norman did not know what the word meant. "That means we get our kicks by spying on other people."

Norman's jaw dropped.

"We need two holes so that we can watch together," she added.

Norman was simply astounded – both that she was a pervert and that she had so readily admitted to her perversion – just as if she didn't think there was anything wicked about it.

"That's why we have taken over the motel, actually," said Marlene. "We have spy-holes and two-way mirrors at home, but we don't always have house guests. Here at the motel, we will have a chance to watch different couples fucking every night."

"Gee, lady – I don't know," Norman said. He silently vowed never to bring a lady to this motel, even if he ever got lucky enough to find a lady to bring.

"Why ever not?"

"Well, it's not ethical," he said. "Carpenters got a code of ethics, just like doctors and lawyers. Just like mailmen and cops – well, maybe not cops."

Norman, arrested for failing to make his alimony payment once, had been whacked with rubber hoses. But it had all been a mistake and they had apologized to him, afterwards, to their credit. They had mistaken him for a hippy.

Marlene put her hand on his shoulder and looked him directly in the eye.

"But surely you will make an exception for me, won't you?"

"I – I don't think…" He was wondering if he could get kicked out of the carpenter's union for being a party to perversion.

Her hand moved down his arm.

Norman flexed his biceps.

"Ooooh!" she said, and her sweet red lips puckered up as she made the sound, moist and inviting.

What the hell, Norman decided. The union is just a bunch of communists, anyhow.

"Okay, I'll do it," he agreed.

"You won't be sorry," said Marlene, her long lashes flickering over her slanted green eyes. "Watching other people fuck isn't the only thing I enjoy."

Norman almost fainted as most of his blood rushed instantly into his prick, leaving his brain starved for oxygen.

Marlene sat on the bed, watching Norman drill the spy holes. There was one hole at eye level and another at a point halfway to the floor – so one of the watchers can kneel down, Norman assumed. It made sense to him – he often knelt down when he jerked off. It was a comfortable position. But he was not comfortable now, with his prick pounding away, and the sexy redhead sitting there on the bed. She was playing with the zipper at the front of her jumpsuit, drawing it down a few inches, then up again.

Norman's cock was so hard, he thought he could use it to bore those holes, instead of a drill. He knew she was looking at the way the front of his overalls stuck out. He hoped she wasn't a cock teaser – that she hadn't conned him into doing this job! He drilled away. Sawdust curled from the holes. The zipper went up and down, showing more and more tit.