Blue Collar Lust: The Plumber

Liz is trying to remodel her new old house but it's hard with a plumber like Matt in the house. He may be good with his hands, but his ripped abs, broad shoulders and perfect butt might be put to better use in the bedroom than the kitchen.

Matt soon shows her that renovating can be more fun than she ever imagined.

This is an erotic short for readers over the age of 18. Contains explicit language.

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"I know. I just wish that I knew what I was doing. I've never done anything like this. My only skills involve a desk. I'm a lawyer."

I paused for the inevitable but he didn't respond. I finally prompted, "What, no lawyer jokes now?"

He laughed. "I promise that I won't make any lawyer jokes if you don't make any plumber jokes. You know -- cleaning your pipes, big tools, that sort of thing."
I laughed, wondering how many of the women in his line of work threw themselves at him. I shook off the urge to do the same and started describing my plumbing problems.

"Everything is creaky and leaky. I have always wanted to live in one of these big Victorian houses and now here I am. I don't want to complain, but I'm going to have to renovate everything. The bathrooms have low water pressure and only intermittent hot water. The sinks all leak. There is a weird sound coming from the basement whenever I run any water. There's no hook-up for a washing machine. I need another bathroom on the second floor…" I stared ticking off my long, long list of projects. I pictured my precarious savings slowly trickling away like so many drips from my leaking faucet.

"Whoa, slow down. Sounds like a lot to do. We'll get through it, one step at a time. Where do you want me to start?" he asked.

Oh, I knew where he could start… I shook off my lust again.

He seemed so calm and reassuring. Maybe this was doable. "Can you start in the kitchen maybe?"

He smiled and went right to it, pulling open the doors and sliding under the sink. I wondered how he would ever fit those shoulders or those biceps into the small space there, but somehow he angled in there and start banging around. His head being hidden in the depths of my sink, I had the chance to fully check out his physique. His white tee pulled up to reveal a peek of his abs. Lean muscle showed through a sprinkling of dark hair at his belt line. As he stretched, his pants sank a little lower, showing a deep V of muscle from hip to hip, like an arrow pointing south. He bent his legs for leverage and I watched his jeans strain against the flexing muscles of his thighs.

I stood there wordlessly watching his abs ripples and his pants sink a little lower as he adjusted this way and that. "Just a little lower," I wished, "a few more inches and I swear I'll give to the poor, I'll never run another stoplight, and I'll always do my taxes on time for the rest of my days. Just a little lower, please."