I don’t even know why I bothered asking my neighbor to fix my fan. Like, sure, he’s good with his hands (and let’s be honest, who isn’t these days), but I could’ve just called someone. Still, there was something about the way he’s always so… available. You know the type—quiet, mysterious, and way too good-looking for someone who mows their lawn shirtless every Saturday.

Anyway, he came over around 8 PM. I was in a tank top and shorts because, obviously, the fan wasn’t working, and it was unbearably hot. He brought his toolkit and that smirk that somehow manages to say, “I know you’re staring.” I wasn’t, by the way. (Okay, maybe a little.)

He got to work almost immediately, muttering something about loose screws while I leaned against the doorframe, pretending to care. But then, out of nowhere, the fan blade slipped, and he caught it mid-air like some kind of superhero. “You might wanna back up. This could get dangerous,” he said, glancing at me with this stupidly smug look. Dangerous? Please. I wasn’t moving.

Fast forward 20 minutes, the fan was fixed, and I thought that was it. Job done, thanks, bye. But then, he lingered. “You know, this heat is unbearable,” he said, wiping his forehead. “Mind if I grab some water?” Of course, I said yes—it’s called being polite.

He followed me into the kitchen, and that’s when things got… interesting. I don’t know if it was the heat or the way he leaned against the counter, drinking water like it was a performance, but suddenly the air felt different.

“So, do I get a tip for my hard work?” he asked, half-joking, but his eyes said something else entirely. I laughed—nervously, I’ll admit—and said, “What, you expect cash? I thought neighbors helped each other out.”

He smirked. “Depends on the kind of help you’re offering.”

Cue the longest pause in human history. I swear, the world stopped turning for a second. Then he stepped closer, his hand brushing mine as he set the glass down. “You’re really gonna make me spell it out, huh?”

What happened next was… well, let’s just say my fan wasn’t the only thing that got fixed that night. Turns out, he is good with his hands—better than I could’ve imagined. He leaned over and kissed me.. yes i was shocked but i kinda just let it happen. The funny thing was that he is literally the same age or older than my dad. He pushed my hand down his jeans and left me in a ‘omg’ moment.. i never felt anything this thick and long before. After the kissing, i undone his jeans and dropped to my knees. After pulling down his boxers.. his huge dick basically slapped against my face. He guided me and told me i was doing a good job and to take my time. I wrapped my lips around his huge tip slowly… trust me it was hard to even go half way. I tried my best and he rewarded me with a sloppy kiss filled with my saliva and his pre-cum as he fingered me until orgasm.

He bent me over and slid his huge dick inside my slowly…”you ready princess” .. the way he was so gentle but rough literally made me orgasm more times than i can count. He must have fucked me for maybe only 20 minutes but i was in a puddle of my own cum after. The worst part is that he’s my dads friend but i just cant stop thinking about him.

The best part? He left with that same smug smirk, like he knew he’d just given me the best time of my life. He kissed me and made sure i was okay before he left.

Now every time I hear my fan whirring, I can’t help but smile. I guess older men really do know how to make a woman feel like a slut and a princess at the same time.