At 6:30 a.m., the alarm blares. Yvonne yawns, stretches out an arm, and silences it with a tap. For a few more minutes, eyes stay closed, savoring the quiet. A hand drifts down to the stomach, and the familiar morning ritual kicks in—same as always. Feeling aroused upon waking feels as normal as breathing; guys get morning wood, so why not this?
Fingers find a damp slit, already slick. A gentle rub between the labia follows, then two fingers slip inside. They slide out, and a quick sniff brings a thought: Smells nice. Back they go, moving slowly in and out. The other hand joins in, teasing the clit, sending a warm ripple through the belly. Nothing beats starting the day like this, the mind hums, accompanied by a soft moan. The pace picks up—fingers dance faster over the clit while the other hand works a now-soaked, hairy spot. Three fingers plunge in and out, brushing the labia where droplets glisten. A loud moan erupts as a powerful climax hits.
Always so good—can’t get enough. Spent, Yvonne lingers with eyes shut. A thought creeps in: If only there were a guy with a big dick and a skilled tongue. There was one once, but he ditched her for a coworker. No clue why—he’s missing out on a damn good lover and a blowjob pro. Enough of that. A glance at the clock shows 6:50 a.m. Time to get moving. The blanket flies off, and Yvonne strides naked to the bathroom. A shower washes away the evidence with a creamy rinse, the showerhead blasting away any lingering traces. After drying off, it’s back to the bedroom for a pair of panties, a lacy bra, and a light suit—no stockings today, thanks to the warm forecast.
Slippers on, Yvonne heads downstairs, scooping up the morning paper from the mat. In the kitchen, the kettle gets filled and switched on. Oops,—forgot to turn off the tap, and now the sink won’t drain. What the hell? Everything was fine yesterday. A peek under the sink and a tap on the pipe produce a gurgle, but no fix. Guess I’ll call someone, Yvonne sighs, moving on to breakfast: tea and toast with jam. Feet up on a chair, the paper in hand, it’s a cosy start. By 8 a.m., it’s time to head out. High heels replace slippers, and a mad dash to the car follows—only to sprint back for a forgotten bag. Finally, the drive ends at the office building. Inside, the lift zips up to the 22nd floor.
Stepping out, Yvonne struts into a shared office buzzing with 20 colleagues. The suit and heels draw admiring glances from the guys, their eyes glued to a shapely rear and legs. Right on cue. A cheerful “Morning, everyone!” rings out before settling at the desk. The PC boots up, emails load—nothing exciting. Then Henk strolls by. “Morning, Henk! All good?” “Yeah, not bad,” he grins. “Had a party last night, ran late, but I’m fine.” Yvonne jumps in: “Hey, my kitchen sink’s clogged. Know anyone who can help?” Henk scratches his chin, thinking. “Yeah, I’ve got a handyman’s number—Thomas something. Fixes everything. I’ll grab it.” He scrolls his phone, jots the digits on a scrap of paper, and hands it over. “Give him a shot.” “You’re a lifesaver, Henk!” Yvonne calls as he waves and walks off.
The morning flies by, and soon it’s lunch. The canteen’s packed. Tomato soup and a baguette make the order, and a solo table offers peace. Hot! The first sip nearly scalds, so it cools a bit. Pulling out Thomas’s number, a call goes through. After ten rings, just as the phone’s about to die, a voice answers: “Hello, Thomas.” “Hi, Thomas! Yvonne here. You’re the handyman, right?” “That’s me. What’s up?” “My kitchen sink’s blocked since this morning. I’m useless at fixing it—grosses me out, honestly. Can you help?” A pause, then: “Shouldn’t be an issue. Costs extra since it’s messy, but I can do it.”
“Great! I work days, but I’ll be home by 3:30 today. Could you come then?” “How’s 4:00?” “Perfect. Thanks!” Address given, call done, the soup goes down smoothly.
A quick chat with the boss secures an early exit. By 3:00 p.m., the PC’s off, bag’s grabbed, and the lift drops to the ground floor. Traffic’s thick, but the warm weather’s a perk. Home by 3:45, the kitchen’s cool relief hits. A glass of water in hand, the sink still mocks with standing water. Hope Thomas is quick. Heels off, slippers on, a sip of water—then the doorbell chimes. At the door, a friendly guy with a toolbox nods. “Thomas, I assume?” “That’s me. Hi.” He steps in, following to the kitchen. Inspecting the sink, he ducks under, asking for a bucket. One’s fetched, and Yvonne watches from the table. Not bad-looking, sprawled out like that. It’s been ages since a man’s been around, and a spark ignites.
“Everything okay down there?” “Yeah, just grimy. Needs a rinse.” “Call me Yvonne—easier that way.” A bold move brews: panties off, heels back on. A quick trip to the bedroom ditches the underwear, then back to the kitchen for the stilettos. “Coffee or a soda, Thomas?” “Soda, thanks,” he says, eyes forward. He catches sight of toned calves, amplified by the heels, and slides out, intrigued. Yvonne, feigning oblivion, stands legs apart at the counter, flashing a bare glimpse under the suit. Pouring lemonade, legs spread wider, Thomas pipes up: “Looking good, Yvonne,” brushing a leg. “Oh! Didn’t realize I was… feels nice, though. Been a while.” Eyes close, anticipation builds. Thomas kneels, hands roaming both legs, one sliding up to a thigh, kneading it. “Nice and solid,” he murmurs, fingers grazing a damp slit.
Leaning on the counter, Yvonne savors the touch. Thomas hikes the skirt, teasing the clit. A moan escapes: “Ohh, mmm.” He pauses as Yvonne spins, leaning back, legs wide. Skirt up, he dives in, licking from knees to a dripping core. Tongue and fingers work in tandem, driving louder moans: “Thomas, yes, so good!” He zeroes in on the clit, sucking and nipping. Yvonne bucks, urging him on: “Lick it all, oh, so horny!” Head pressed close, an orgasm looms. “I’m coming!” she cries, shuddering as he laps up every drop. Breathless, leaning back, “It’s been forever. You’re amazing,” fingers ruffle his hair. Thomas stands, grinning, a bulge straining his pants. “Looks like you’re ready too,” Yvonne teases, hand grazing it. “Let’s see about that.”
