I Called My Neighbor to Fix More Than Just the Lamp

Hello, how are you all? Me, very good tonight. And eager to tell you something that happened to me recently. Like in almost all my stories, part of it is true and part of it is left for my imagination to complete. You decide where the line is.

What happened was that I was painting one of the rooms in my house and the fan broke down. I understand nothing about electricity; every time something breaks, even if it’s something silly, I have to turn to someone who knows. Usually I ask one of my brothers or one of my nephews, who have already learned how to fix things. But that fan had the light built in and I needed to keep painting, and the afternoon was closing in on me. So I decided to call one of my neighbors, one of those who are always offering to help. So selflessly, I suppose, every time they see me passing by.

The neighbor’s name is Ramiro. He has worked from home since the pandemic, like so many around here, and he takes his breaks between work and household chores. He’s married to a woman from Veracruz, voluptuous, with a very pretty face and a hellish temper. They have two sons, about eighteen and twenty, and a twenty-four-year-old daughter who is the secret fantasy of half the neighborhood.

It was four in the afternoon and the sky was starting to turn gray. I knew Ramiro’s wife didn’t allow him much contact with me. Several female neighbors distrust me because I live alone; they think I’m a homewrecker. Nothing could be further from the truth. If they knew what kind of man I’m into, they’d sleep easy knowing I’d never be interested in their husbands.

I decided to hurry before she got back from work and found out he had come into my house.

I knocked on the door and one of the sons opened it for me. He looked me over discreetly, taking in the neckline peeking out from my sweater, and gave my legs a quick glance.

—Is your dad home? —I asked.

—Yes —he replied, and shouted into the house.

A minute later Ramiro appeared with a look of annoyance, a look that turned into a friendly smile the moment he saw it was me looking for him.

—Tell me, how can I help you? —he asked.

—I need you to check a fan lamp. They turn on and then all of a sudden it seems like they want to shut off. Could you take a look at it?

—Of course. Give me a couple of minutes to get the tools.

—Perfect, I’ll wait for you at home. Thanks a million!

***

He came by a little later, I opened the door for him, and I took him to the room. Since it’s a room I almost always keep closed and the fan wasn’t working, it was stiflingly hot inside. I showed him the lamp and he immediately confirmed that yes, something was wrong.

—Sorry, Ramiro, I’m going to take off my sweater, I’m really hot.

I took off the garment and he froze when he discovered that underneath I was only wearing a tiny, fairly revealing dress. I must confess that sometimes I like to walk around like this inside the house, because I enjoy catching myself in some reflection and seeing what certain men look at when I go out on the street. It turns me on a little. Truth is, I’d already forgotten I was wearing that dress so short; I’m so used to it that it becomes a second skin.

I realized he was getting nervous. And also that the situation thrilled him. I brought him a small stool so he could reach the fan. He asked me for the tester, and when I handed it to him I decided to play a prank on him: I pressed my breasts against his leg. Almost immediately I noticed his breathing speed up.

While he checked the fan, we talked about random things. He steered the conversation toward compliments, toward me, and I knew perfectly well he was doing it to flirt.

Ramiro doesn’t strike me as attractive at all. But I get turned on by the idea of feeling desired.

I get incredibly aroused imagining what fantasies some men have about me. I get turned on thinking, purely as a fantasy, that I might be able to help them fulfill them. And I’d had a rough few days: I was very horny and the opportunity hadn’t come up. One thought led to another, and Ramiro’s deliberately seductive chatter ended up waking up the little devil living in my head.

I amused myself for a few minutes wandering around the room, pretending to tidy up. I did it so he’d watch me walk, because I knew he looked at me every time I passed in front of his house. That was going to be my way of paying him: a private show, a little bit of dirty fun at home.

Every now and then I bent down in front of him and the neckline almost left my nipples exposed. Just when I was about to pass by, I’d suddenly turn to look at him and he’d avert his gaze, embarrassed.

—How does it look, Ramiro? —I asked.

—Well, I see you looking very good —he answered, letting out a little laugh.

—I mean the fan, dummy.

—Oh, that! —he said, composing himself—. It’s shorting out. I’ll insulate the wires properly and that’ll fix it.

—Do you want me to bring you the electrical tape?

—Please.

I brought it to him, and when I saw him stretching to reach it, I said:

—Should I hold you here so you don’t fall?

And I held him by the thighs.

It was obvious he was insanely aroused, and the truth is I was too. Though more than arousal, mine was curiosity and the urge to play. I was amused by his nervous reactions, by his effort to seem composed.

—Tell me, do you think your wife will take long to come back? —I asked, just to unsettle him, to make him think I was planning something more serious.

—I don’t know if she’ll be long —he replied—. But I’m almost done already, in case you need help with... something else.

He said those last words in such a roguish tone there was no doubt about it. You don’t have to be very smart to understand he was offering me an affair.

—And why are you asking me? —he insisted, trying to get me to make the first move.

By then I was already determined to play with him for a while.

—Well, for this —I answered, while I caressed the bulge in his crotch.

He startled and tried to get off the stool at once, eager to take the reins.

—No, don’t get down. Keep working on your task and I’ll take care of mine. Please, finish fixing it.

He agreed without saying a word and let himself be touched while he kept insulating the wires. Every so often he would lower his hand and brush my breasts, but I firmly pushed it away and repeated the order that he continue with his work.

I unzipped his pants and, slowly, began to pull his penis out. It wasn’t erect yet. It was very hairy, which made me think sex with his wife couldn’t be frequent, or at least he didn’t have the delicacy to groom himself for her. In my experience, that usually means he also doesn’t get oral sex very often. His member pulsed, still limp, maybe from nerves. I pulled back his foreskin and slowly brought my tongue closer to the head.

His phone started ringing. He ignored it. It rang again. He took it out of his pocket and answered.

—Hello, my love. Yes, I came to take a look at a fuse box. We’re done now, I’m heading over there.

Just then I took his penis, already fully erect, into my mouth. With a strained note in his voice, he managed to ask:

—Do you want me to bring anything?

I kept going intensely, in and out, sucking hard. On the other end of the line, his wife could be heard asking whose house he was at.

—I’m at Joaquín’s house, don’t worry. I’m coming now.

Noises that sounded like scolding slipped out of the receiver. She was yelling something at him. He hung up.

—Forgive me —he said to me—, I really have to go now.

—And you’re not going to finish the lamp?

—Better I come another day with more time and we finish whatever you want, my queen.

—There won’t be another time like this —I said, and swallowed him again.

I lowered my neckline and left my breasts uncovered. He hurried to finish the last details of the repair and I hurried to make him come. I intensified the rhythm with my hand on his penis, and right away he signaled to me: he was about to cum. I let him explode, moved his member away from my face, and let his semen fall to the floor. I made sure to squeeze out every last drop.

He was still standing on the stool, with his penis beginning to soften. I used those last seconds to stimulate him again with my tongue and lips, until I provoked some rather exaggerated contortions. I did it on purpose: I wanted to take away any chance of a new erection, any intention of spending the afternoon fucking me. I didn’t want that. I just wanted to play.

He got down from the stool with the job finished and astonishment still in his eyes. Like a hungry calf, he headed toward my erect nipples. He brought a hand toward my sex; I pulled it away. Then he grabbed my ass. I gently moved him aside.

—Well, I think that’s all for today. I really appreciate it, and I’d appreciate even more if you’re discreet about what just happened. This wasn’t payment, it was my way of thanking you for the help. We’re even.

With my tits still out, I guided him toward the exit. He took advantage of the last moments to admire me one more time, and before he could ask whether we could repeat it, I shut him up. I said goodbye firmly and pushed him out.

That concludes my story for this afternoon. And I hope that also concludes Ramiro’s participation in any of my future adventures. Because believe me: the next time something breaks in my house, I already know who I’m not going to call.