Let's just get this straight: Around the University, I'm not known as a whore. If I'm known as anything to the masses, I'm just "that boho chick who passes out vegetarian pamphlets on the green around lunch time." Almost everyone on campus remembers my wardrobe. It's pretty fantastic. I make all of my own clothes. I love bright colors, long skirt, and hippie fashions. Anything different is great in my book. 

As for me, myself, I'm relatively attractive, in my expert opinion. I keep my blond hair long and my make-up low-key. Thanks to the wonder of contacts, my eyes are a very bright, very noticeable shade of violet. 

Of course, I'm also dirt poor. Three jobs barely cover the cost of rent for my apartment, a small, two-room matchbox that I managed to get half-priced through a friend of a friend of a friend. And then, of course, food and all that is twice as expensive for me as anyone else. They always jack up the price of vegetarian options. 

Well, for the past week and a half, that small, two-room matchbox has been giving me a hell of a lot of trouble. My sink absolutely refuses to release any water. After consulting with myself over a dish of Ben & Jerry's, I called my friend Lenny. 

"Hello?”

"Hey, Lenny. What'cha doing?"

"Sandy! Not much, not much." 

Lenny refuses to call me by my full name, Sandrine. He's the only one that I let get away with it. 

"My sink is broken. I need you to come over and fix it." 

"No prob, Sandman."

"Shut up, and get your ass over here." 

Lenny arrived shortly there after and assessed the situation with the utmost professionalism. 

“You’re fuckin’ screwed. The hoo-dingy broke off the whatcha-macall-it. The thingy won’t hold now.” 

“You’re so helpful.”

“You need a plumber.”

“I can’t afford a plumber.” 

“Then you’ll be eating microwave meals and drinking bottled water for the rest of your life.” 

“I like bottled water.” 

“Call a plumber.” 

A short while later, Lenny, in all his uselessness, left, and I sat around contemplating for a moment, consulting my cat Theo (short for Theoklymenos – ever read the Odyssey?) for a possible course of action. 

Finally I decided it was inevitable, I’d have to call a plumber.

***

“I think I’ve found the problem, Miss,” I faintly heard the plumber, whose head was under the sink, say to me. I mumbled a slight response. My attention was elsewhere (namely, on his perfect tushie sticking out right in front of me. 

He rattled off a few terms-of-the-trade, sprinkled with a few familiar words (“pipe” and “water” and such), though it wasn’t until the word “money” sounded that I snapped back into reality. 

“I’m sorry?” I asked. 

“I said that with the pipes re-rooted and the basin replaced, your total will be in the hundreds,” he said, standing up and brushing the dirt off his knees. 

“Hundreds? I can’t afford that!”

“I’m sorry, Miss, but if this doesn’t get fixed, I’m afraid you won’t have any water for a very long time.” 

I walked over to the table and slumped down in a chair. I felt like crying. 

“What am I supposed to do now?” I asked no one in particular. 

“Well,” the plumber walked over and put his hand on my shoulder, “I’m sure you can think of some way to pay for it.” There was a hint of something in his voice. Could it be…?

With a softer, sultrier voice, I replied, “Oh, really…whatever could I do to get the money for it?” I stood up, small chest out as far as possible, and smiled at him meekly. I took a step closer and reached my arms up around his neck. I had to stand on my toes because of his tall frame. 

He bent down, and our lips joined in passion. His tongue hungrily found my own, and they danced in celebration. I could feel a growing bulge inside his pants against my skin. 

I felt myself being pushed backwards. I stopped my resistance and let Steve (I had read his nametag) press me up against the wall. His hands began to grope my chest. One moved down and lifted up my shirt. We temporarily broke our kiss to allow it to come off. I was a little unsure of the situation, but what could I do now? 

With a swiftness and precision rarely matched, he unclasped my bra and tossed it aside. I moaned into his mouth as his large had caressed my breast. 

His hands moved down to my hips, and he lifted me up without halting our kiss. He carried me into the other room of my apartment – my bedroom. Gently, he laid me down on the bed. His hand began to pull at my long skirt. I took my arms from around his neck and pushed it down, kicking it away. Left only in my panties, I was defenseless. 

He gently pulled my panties down off of me. His hands were careful, but an air of eagerness hung around him. I didn’t fight him. I let the inevitable happen. 

After a minute or two, our mouths separated, and he moved back and stood at the edge of the bed. My legs were spread, and he had a perfect view of my swollen pussy, which by now was dripping wet in excitement. 

I watched as he slowly slid the hammer out of the loop on his belt. My whole body quivered in anticipation of what was to come. My pussy got a distinct ache deep inside of it, a longing to be stuffed full. Primal instincts kicked in and frenzy came over my writhing body. 

Steve knelt down and moved in close. His face was inches from my aroused cunt. He blew gently on my swollen clit. My whole body jumped. Shivers ran up my spine, and my toes curled. I watched breathlessly as he lifted his tool up to my twat and placed the wooden handle at the opening. It was cool against my fiery, swollen pussy lips. Slowly, he slid it inside me. The giant stick stretched my tight cunt to its limits. I moaned at the waves of pleasure rolling over my body, and my hand roamed down to my small tits. I began to tug and pull on them as Steve slid the hammer in and out of my dripping slit. 

“Harder…harder…” I whispered. 

“Beg for it, bitch,” Steve said with a sudden forcefulness. My bust swelled in excitement. Gasping for breath, I managed a few words.

“Please…please, ram it harder. Ream out my wet pussy!.” 

Steve started to push the tool in and out harder and faster, and he yelled, “Tell me what you want, cunt!”

“Oh, Steve…oh…I want you to tear apart my twat. Stretch it…fill it…use it…” 

The plumber just couldn’t take it any more. He pulled the hammer out of my aching snatch, much to dismay, and unzipped his pants. He pulled off his clothes, and I finally saw, in all its glory, the cock that had made that beautiful bulge. 

I gasped. It was huge – it had to be at least eight or nine inches long, maybe more! I was both scared and excited to have it stretch out my slit. I twisted my nipples as I watched him stroke its length. 

“Turn around.” 

I didn’t need telling twice. I flipped over and raised my hips. I pushed back my ass to give Steve a perfect view of my reddened pussy. He walked over and pressed against me. I felt his cock slid over my slit and tickle my clit. My knees started to buckle, but he grabbed my hips and rammed me back against his cock. He slid in with ease, and we moaned together. He moved inside me quickly. I nearly felt ashamed at how much I craved and loved his meat stretching my tight cunt. 

Finally, it got to be too much for me. My twat started to spasm and tightened like a vice around Steve’s massive cock. My whole body started shaking uncontrollably as hot cum streamed out of my slit. The feeling of the sticky goo on his dick made the plumber’s own orgasm begin. He called out, a sort of nondescript moan, and I felt hot sperm shoot deep inside of me. With one last thrust, his orgasm subsided, and he pulled his cock out of my pussy. I collapsed onto the bed. 

I found myself satisfied and suddenly very tired. Sleepily, my eyelids fell down, and I drifted off to sleep. 

***

I woke up hours later, still naked, with cum on my thighs. I looked around. Steve was gone, but a little note was lying on the table. 

Pulling on a robe, I walked over and picked up the paper. All it said was: 

-

Great fuck. You won’t be paying a dime for the sink. I’ll come back tomorrow with the right tools to 'fix it.' 

Steve

-

I set the note down on the table, a smile on my face. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow!