You might have heard this one. It got me reminiscing about Jenny.

A blonde walked into an electronics store and said to the salesmen: "I want that tv."

The salesperson shook his head and said, "No, we don't sell to blondes."

So, the blonde left and came back with her hair dyed brown and said: "I'll take that tv."

Again, the salesman said: "No, we don't sell to blondes."

So, she left again and came back with her hair dyed black and said: "I want that tv."

But the salesman still said: "No, we don't sell to blondes."

Finally, the blonde got fed up and said, "That's it! How'd you know I was a blonde?!" she asked.

The salesman answered: "Cause that's a microwave."

You might say I’m nothing to look at, nothing to see, but no one I’d rather be.  I was an ordinary handyman making enough money for decent clothes and a few beers after work. Well, there is one thing about me that stands out if you don’t mind the double entendre. I’m not bragging. It’s just that my girlfriends have said some nice things about it.

It’s hard to tell what a girl is looking for in a guy’s sex organs. Apparently for some girls, size matters. That’s why Patty named it Goliath. Others like its girth calling it an oak. One girl named it Adonis because she thought its shape was handsome like the Greek God. Frieda called it a Zeppelin when it was fully inflated. I never understood why girls like to name male parts. Maybe it’s like naming a pet dog or cat, something for companionship. Only Eve named my balls. She called them apples. That was funny since the first Eve had a thing for apples.

So obviously I like girls and they like me. I’ve had a few older women as well. They wanted intimate time with a younger man, so they bedded me. Seduction comes naturally to middle-aged women. They aren’t timid about expressing their expectations. I willingly accepted. That’s how I got my present job at the Murphy estate. Mrs. Murphy was given a recommendation from a friend who raved about my work and bedside manner. Madeline is a thirty-something married lady who hired me to trim the bushes, mow the lawn, clean the pool, and fuck her when her husband Dr. Murphy was out of town.

Madeline and I consummated our arrangement the second time I came to the estate. She was a great cock sucker, had orgasms early and often, and was demanding about when and where she wanted me to cum. Sometimes she wanted the salty taste in her mouth. At other times she wanted me to fill her cunt so I could eat her out afterward. I complied with her wishes. I was just a hired gun to her.

This story is not so much about the MILF’s in my life but about Madeline’s daughter Jennifer. She is nothing short of spectacular. There are some girls that ooze sex, and that is an understatement when it comes to Jennifer. Every part of her body from head to toe advertises sex. Her voice has a natural erotic pitch while her smile says, fuck me. And like in the joke above, she was a blonde.

The thing is, I was a day laborer. Jennifer is the daughter of a wealthy doctor. That relationship reminded me of Buttercup and the farm hand, Westley, in the movie, The Princess Bride. She called him “farm boy” and ordered him around. His replies to her were, ‘As you wish.’ So, I decided to call Jennifer, ‘Princess’ whenever we met. Getting “Goliath” into her Kitty would be challenging, or so I thought.

Princess and I had our first real conversation on a scorching hot Thursday when I was asked to clean the pool. Sweat was pouring off my bare chest as I took several discreet glances at Princess sitting by the pool looking cool in a micro bikini. Her attention was riveted on her cell phone. After I had worked for a while without getting her attention, Princess looked up from her phone and said, “Oh, am I in the way?”

“Not at all. Sorry to disturb you but your mom wanted the pool cleaned for the party tomorrow,” I answered.

“Well, the party isn’t until Saturday. It’s my high school graduation party. I can’t wait.” And she squealed like a little girl. “I got this bikini just for the party. Do you like it?”

“Stand up so I can get a better look.”

She gave me a frown and then stood, modeling her new swimwear. “How’s that?” she asked.

“Spectacular!” I remarked, as were her tits that were in danger of falling out of the bikini top and her pussy lips bulging at the bottom. “Give me your phone and I’ll take your picture.”

She posed for a half dozen photos that Princess said she was sending to her boyfriend. “Isn’t your boyfriend coming to the party?” I asked.

“No. He’s in the Army. I haven’t seen him for seven weeks while he’s in basic training. I really miss him if you know what I mean.”

I knew what she meant.

“If you don’t mind, could you send the pix to me?” I asked.

“I guess so. What’s your e-mail address?”

Now she had my address. Better yet, I would have hers. That was the beginning.

I waited three days before Princess sent one of the pictures that she said was her favorite. I wrote back asking how her graduation party went.

She was in no hurry to reply. Two days later she wrote, “The party was Ok but I missed my boyfriend, Taylor. His best friend, Dilan, could see I was unhappy so he called me “Match Girl.”  You know, from the fairy tale. He thought I needed to be cheered up and like a good friend, Dilan took care of me. You’re a guy so you probably know what I mean.”

Yeah, I understood exactly what she meant. I only wanted to be around the next time she was desperate for a guy’s affection. Then something happened in September.

The days were shorter and cooler when I was at the estate blowing leaves off their patio. Princess was in tears as she walked to her car. At first, she looked like she was in her pajamas, but Princess was wearing a man’s dress shirt that barely covered her ass. Like always, she looked gorgeous and as sexy as ever.

I took a deep breath and gave her my best smile saying, “Nice car!”

“Thanks,” she sobbed. "Mom and Dad gave it to me for graduation. Would you mind washing it for me when I get back from the store?”

“As you wish.”

After finishing the yard work, I spent an hour cleaning her Lexis inside and out. After I finished, Princess handed me forty dollars. It wasn’t what I wanted. I said, “I didn’t do it for the money, but thanks anyway. How about if we have a beer together.”

“I don’t drink beer. Too many calories.  I might have a diet soda while you’re having a beer, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Do you want to come inside?” she offered.

“Sure.” I knew the house well, having been with her mother on several occasions. However, what I hoped to see was her bedroom.

We talked for about a half hour. Princess told me that she was going to Community College a few miles from home and wouldn’t see Taylor for a year because he was being deployed to Syria after basic training. That was why she was hysterical that morning.

“By the way, Peter, are you good with computers?”

“The name is Paul and yes, I’m pretty good with computers.”

“Well, I have a paper due next week and every time I type something, the words go to the middle of the screen. Can you fix it for me?”

“Of course,” I said as if this was my chance to be her hero.

“The computer is in my bedroom.”

Some days a guy gets lucky. The fix was easy but almost by accident, thumbnails of the pictures I took at the pool popped up in one of the folders. That wasn’t all. There were nude pictures, and they were selfies of her.

“Oh,” she blurted out. “You weren’t supposed to see those. I took them for Taylor.”

“Maybe I can enhance them, so they aren’t so dark.”

“Really? You can do that?”

“Yes, if you want me to.”

“All right.”

I improved them but they were still fuzzy, and most were out of focus. “Look, Princess, I can take some pictures of you, and they will be much better for Taylor.”

“Okay but not today. My mom will be home in a few minutes, and she wouldn’t like it if you were here.”  I laughed to myself thinking her mom wouldn’t mind it if I was in her bedroom. “By the way, why did you call me Princess?” she asked. “That’s what my dad calls me.”

“It’s a long story, Princess, but obviously the name fits. Don’t forget to let me know when we can do this without your mom around.”

Again, there was a delay while I fantasized about being her personal photographer. A week went by before Princess wrote that Wednesday was her mom’s golf day, and I should be at her house around nine-thirty.

She was wearing what must have been her father’s dress shirt with the top three buttons open showing a generous amount of cleavage.  Princess wasn’t shy about removing the shirt and asked me to take a series of photos as she unbuttoned it. Eventually, she unhooked the last button leaving the shirt opened, exposing her naked body with no bra or panties to obscure my view.  Her body was a man’s dream.

Princess’ tits were firm with rosy-pink nipples. She was fully shaved and as bald as the day she was born. It was her pussy lips that intoxicated me. They seemed to be perpetually swollen like a woman after having hot sex only minutes earlier.

The first few pictures were standard nudes that could be shown in any art museum. I suggested that Taylor might like something more erotic. “Like what?” she asked.

“Something that Taylor likes about your body.”

“He likes my ass and my tits.”

“Is that all? You are beautiful all over.”

“There’s one more thing but it’s embarrassing.”

“What?”

“He loves my pussy,” she whispered.

“Well, I totally agree with that. So, we’ll take a few shots of you playing with yourself.”

“Really! You mean that?”

“As you wish. Just pretend you’re masturbating. You masturbate, don’t you?”

“Well, yes but not in front of guys that I don’t know very well.”

“We’ll just have to get to know each other better.” She grinned like she knew what I meant.

The photoshoot had turned both of us on. I was rock hard; she was aroused and ready to fuck without foreplay. We spent over an hour together getting to know each other better. Like her mom, she was slippery wet but with a tighter virgin-like pussy. She had her first orgasm almost as soon as I pushed in. Princess liked being on top because, she said, “That’s when I get the strongest orgasms.” Doggy was second best and we tried them all until I pulled out just in time.

“That was really good, Peter, but is that all there is?” she asked as if disappointed.

“No,” I said. “I’m just saving up for next time. And it’s Paul.”

The lesson to be learned here is, never discount the value of body language.

We carried on like that until the Spring when she announced that the family was moving to California. I remember the exact date of that tragic moment because it was on March 15th, Ides of March. It wasn’t a murder like Caesar, but it felt like it.

So, while the months dragged on, I carried on as before my romance with Princess and eventually lost touch with her.

*

As I said, I carried on my life as before. I don’t remember many of the adulterous liaisons except the night I had a Netflix and Chill evening with a customer a few years older than me. Her husband was in Argentina representing his company at an international conference. The movie we watched was Finian’s Rainbow.  It’s a musical and there is a very clever song, “When I’m Not Near the Girl I Love, I Love the Girl I’m Near” The woman gave me a hug and said, “That song pretty much sums you up.” I laughed. She was right.

I was nearly thirty-five and wasn’t mowing lawns anymore but owned a successful home repair business. So I made lots of trips to Lowe’s, Home Depot, and Walmart. That’s how I bumped into Princess.

She was at the garden center at Walmart. I had to look twice to be sure it was her before saying hello. Her sensuous long legs were like Princess. Her tight ass was as I remembered it, but it was her face that I could never forget. She was as stunning as ever. Princess hadn’t changed much, still sultry and incredibly desirable

“Hey, Princess! How’s it goin’?” It wasn’t a creative greeting but the best I had at the moment.

She turned and looked at me as if I was a stranger. “Do I know you?”

“Yes, I hope so. I worked at the estate before you moved to California.”

“Oh yes, the handyman. It’s Peter, right?”

“Paul.”

“Are you sure it’s Paul? I always called you Peter.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s Paul. So, what are you doing in town?”

“It’s my ten-year class reunion. My best friend, Simone, invited me to stay at her place.”

“How long will you be in town?”

“I’m not sure. Simone is married with two kids. I might be in the way, but I’d like to stay around for a little while. I loved living here. There are so many memories of the great times we had in high school.”

“Look, let’s have dinner tonight if you have no plans.”

“Well, the class is going to our high school football game, and some of us are going to dinner together to catch up.”

“How about tomorrow night?”

“That’s the reunion dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll try for strike three. Any chance on the next night?”

“I’m not sure what Simone has planned. Call me tomorrow. Here’s my number.”

I called in the afternoon. She didn’t answer. I called again later. She couldn’t be reached. I called again after the football game. She was at dinner and couldn’t talk. I gave up. I knew when to quit.

The next morning, she called and apologized for the delays. “Hey, Peter, I’m so tired of restaurant food. I’d rather have a home-cooked meal with Simone’s family.”

I gave her a pass on Peter. “Hey, how about having dinner at my place? I’m not a bad cook. It comes with a bachelor’s territory. I’m really good with hamburgers and ordering pizza.”

She laughed and said she would call me back after checking with Simone. One of Simone’s kids was sick, so Princess had me pick her up at six the next evening.

She had said on the phone that hamburgers would be fine. I chilled two bottles of Sauvignon Blanc and had the grill ready on the small patio of my condo apartment.

It was a short drive and not much was said in the car. She seemed a little sad when she said, “I feel so bad.”

I waited for a few seconds before asking, “Why is that?”

“At the reunion, everyone knew me like we had been high school friends. I didn’t remember any of them. If it wasn’t for the name tags, I wouldn’t even know anyone’s names.”

“Are you talking about the men?”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“A lucky guess.”

“The women sort of ignored me except for Simone and that made me sad. I felt bad about that.”

“Maybe a glass of wine will cheer you up. It’s California wine.”

“Sounds good, Peter.”

I showed her around the small apartment. “I use the guest bedroom as an office, but there’s a bed there and you are welcome to stay here if you decide to stay longer.” She didn’t say yes; she didn’t say no. She didn’t say I’ll stay, or I have to go. She only asked if she could help with dinner.

At that, I opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Before setting them on the table, I stuck a name tag on my shirt in bold letters. I’M PAUL.

While I grilled the burgers and caramelized the fresh sweet corn. She made the salad. ”Where’s the dressing?” she asked. I rarely fix salad, so we had it without dressing. We sat down at dinner around seven fifteen with the second bottle of wine.

Only after dinner did we begin talking about our past. She had been married twice and divorced them both. “What happened?” I asked. She gave me the short version.

“Dwight was the first one. I was only twenty, he was thirty, and I loved his shiny sports car. He was adventurous and took me everywhere like the World Series and the Kentucky Derby. We even went to Le Mans in France to see the twenty-four-hour auto race. I loved France.

“But Dwight was so into sports and not so much into me. You know what I mean, right, ah,” and she looked at my nametag and said, “right, Paul?”

“I got it, ah, Princess,” mimicking her hesitation.

“You can call me Jenny, short for Jennifer.”

“Okay, Jenny. So, what about number two?”

“He was a jerk. I married him after he got me pregnant. My parents said I had better marry him or they would disown me. My pregnancy lasted five months, then I had a miscarriage. The marriage didn’t last a year.

“So how about you?” she finally asked.

“I haven’t had a wedding, divorce, or miscarriage,” I said with a chuckle.

“Oh really?” Princess said not getting the joke “Then what do you do for fun?” she asked as if weddings, divorces, and miscarriages were fun?”

My answer was just as frivolous. “I sleep with women.”

She smiled and said, “That’s why you invited me here?”

“It was about having dinner. You remember, you were tired of restaurant food?”

“Yes, I remember. Who knows, maybe that wasn’t my only reason.”

“Oh, you had something else in mind?”

“Well, yes and no,” she said coyly.

I kissed her and said, “Maybe that will refresh your memory.”

The silence was suffocating. Abruptly, she picked up her purse and took out her phone. “Hi Simone, it’s Jenny. Yes, I’m fine. I won’t be back tonight so don’t wait up. I’m staying with a friend.”

Princess put the phone back in her purse, then looked at me accusingly as if I had planned the whole thing. It might have been on my bucket list, but I can’t take credit for the result.

“So, as you were saying,” she said as if we were in the middle of a conversation. “What was it that you wanted to show me in the bedroom?”

“Oh yes, my etchings.” We both laughed.

Once our clothes were off and she had her hand wrapped around my prick, she purred, “Now I remember. You’re Paul!”

We picked up where we left off a decade ago. The only real change was her tits were no longer teenage tight but a mature handful. She still liked being on top. She told me they call it the ‘Bouncing Bunny’ in California. She had learned a few new tricks over the years as well. There was one she called the ‘Seated Wheelbarrow.’ It involved some athleticism on her part, but Princess liked it because she was in control.

The position is a little hard to describe but it involved me sitting face up on the edge of the bed while she was face down opposite me with her hands on the floor. Her legs straddled my hips, and she rode my cock for what seemed to be an eternity.  Caution: It’s not for guys with short dicks.

The ‘Butter Churner’ was one I liked. Princess was on her back with her legs raised over her head. I was above her ass driving my cock in and out of her cunt hole until I creamed her as deep as I could go.

In the morning, I fucked her in the kitchen. In the afternoon we fucked on the patio. We talked about doing anal, but she said I was too big for her tight ass. At night we fucked until dawn. She was relentless and I was willing.

Princess picked up her clothes at Simone’s the next day giving me the impression she would be staying. She stayed a week. On an afternoon when we had run out of things to say and were catching our breath from another close encounter, I asked, “Who was your first?”

“First? What do you mean?”

I could tell by her expression that she knew exactly what I meant. “When I knew you in high school, you weren’t a virgin. Was Taylor your first?”

She didn’t answer for a moment then simply said, “No he wasn’t.”

“Was it some horny kid in your high school class in the back seat of his car?” I suggested.

“No, it was Mr. Barnett.”

“Who was Mr. Barnett?”

“We were on an overnight field trip in my junior year. I think they called it Outdoor Education. I definitely got an education on that trip. Mr. Barnett was one of our chaperones and my girlfriend’s dad. I liked him and he liked me.”

“Did you seduce him, or did he take advantage of you?”

“A little of both. We were having an astronomy lesson and he was telling me about Orion and the constellations. Under a full moon, I hugged him. He hugged me back; we kissed, and he took me to his room. You can imagine the rest.”

“Did you like it?”

“I wasn’t scared or anything like that because I had found my mom’s dildo and tried it out. So, I knew I was going to love having sex with him. He was gentle and I liked it from the start. We had a summer affair until his daughter found out. She was a real vindictive bitch and seduced my dad at the start of our senior year. Their tryst was one reason my dad decided to move to California. The other was he found out that my mom was sleeping around.”

“So was I your boyfriend or someone to fuck while Taylor was away at boot camp.”

“You were available, and I needed romance. Teenage girls need that and not just hugging a teddy bear.”

“So, I was your fuck buddy.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

Then, a week after Jenny came back into my life, she admitted that she hadn’t been honest about a few things. It was more like not being honest about almost everything.

“This has been a fun week but I gotta get back to my husband and kids.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I had to get this out of my system.”

“What was that?”

“I’m almost thirty. I wanted to feel young and carefree like when I lived here. You were a darling making me feel good about myself. After our first night together, I felt a certain ambivalence about being here. I felt used and trashy being fucked like a whore. But then, as the days went by, being with you was exciting. I felt a certain freedom that I hadn’t felt in years. And you made me feel wanted and loved.  I’m a new woman now and my mom said you did the same for her.”

“She told you?”

“Gosh, you really are naïve. Of course she confided in me after dad found out. Mom never said who she had the affair with, but it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. That’s when I made up my mind to seduce you. There never was a boyfriend in the Army. I made up the story of Taylor in bootcamp to get your attention.”

“And you invented the stories about your divorces and miscarriage.”

“Mostly, although I did go to France with a friend of my dad’s when my husband was at a conference in Montreal. He was so sweet to ask me to go to the Le Mans race with him. We had a great time although he had a perverted idea about sex.

“Peter-Paul, you were wonderful. Thanks for being here for me. It was kind of like therapy. Maybe we can do this again at the next reunion.”

That was the last I heard from Princess.  It wasn’t the last time I thought about her.