Erection Day

(here's why you might want to become a chronic voter, too)

It's local election day and there's only one thing on the ballot, a property tax hike for some vaguely-defined purpose. Saying no to that was an easy call. On the walk home he spots Francie hosing down the banquette in front of her house.

She's as cute as ever, wearing a sun hat and a flowery sun dress, white cotton anklets and powder blue trainers. He gets close and feels the cool fog from the splashing water, sees Francie's arms and face all sparkly with tiny droplets.

The noise of the water and her misted over glasses lets Francie pretend she hasn't noticed, pretends she doesn't know he's watching her. She's wiggling and scooting around, squirting water left and right, raising steam off the hot sidewalk. She uses her free hand to flap the hem of her skirt.

~ ~ ~

Francie teases a bit longer, then cuts off the water. She pulls out an enormous red handkerchief and makes a big deal out of wiping off her coke-bottle-bottom glasses, squinting around -- she probably sees as well without her glasses as she does with them all fogged up -- sniffing, licking her mouth, cocking her head to listen. There's the birds and a few cars passing and the sound of his shuffling feet.

"Oh!" she says, after she puts on her specs. "It's you!" She leans close, spots his I VOTED TODAY sticker.

She flashes her pretty smile. "I'm sure you did the right thing, right?"

"Of course I did."

"Mmmm-hmmm." She blinks, then turns and zips through the breezeway on the side of her house dragging the hose behind her, her handkerchief flapping away like the red signal on a caboose. "C'mon back and let me... say thank you."

He follows her through the breezeway, closing and locking the big gate-door and catching her up in the courtyard. Francie twists off the faucet, drains the hose on her flowers and rolls it up, carefully wiggling and scooting around the whole time.

She hops skips and jumps across the courtyard to the fountain -- a short brick semicircle against the rear wall with Undine the Sprite on a rock surrounded by naiads squirting streams of water.

Francie bends over and swishes her hands around in the pool. She looks back, peeping under an armpit, sparkly pixie smile even cuter when it's upside down. "Oh, this reminds me," she says. "I haven't had a bath yet."

She stands, turns and dries her hands on the big red handkerchief. "So I should be stinky enough for you."

She does a pirouette back away from him, reaches back and pinches her skirt. She sticks out her behind. "Sniff for yourself!"

He's a little too eager kneeling down and smacks on the flagstones. But even that pain -- which is like nothing else in the world of hurt -- is easy to ignore for a chance to huff Francie. He doesn't even have a chance to wince before she holds up her hem and poots out her white-cotton-pantied butt.

The first sniff of her back passage is like spun sugar. "Stinky enough?" she teases. "I wore these pants overnight. Can you tell?"

She twists around and wiggles close. "Here. Let me make sure you know," pulling up the front of her dress and pushing him in her moist panty gusset. He feels her body heat, tastes her salty girl-sweat. Her stink's gamy and yeasty, and there's a hint of pee. He pushes farther in to get a trace of her Bartholins glands.

~ ~ ~

"Hey! Are you getting a boner?" She puts a finger under his chin and lifts. "What a pervert!" She back up and perches her little butt on the edge of the fountain. "I suppose some of that's my fault..." She pats the bricks beside her and has him unzipped before he even settles.

She traces a finger around his glans, leans in and exhales in his ear. Her skin's warm soft and smells like pears. "...what's to be done, what's to be done?"

"Aha! She says, and bends forward. Everything down there disappears under the brim of her big sun hat. But just a few slurpy seconds later, the little vixen pulls her mouth off him. There's a sharp little *smack* sound, and she peeks up at him from under her sun hat.

"Wait a sec..." She cocks her head like she's picking up subsonic or supersonic or extraterrestrial messages or something.

"My husband!" she whisper-shrieks, does the hand-over-mouth thing, pulls off her hat and puts it over his lap. They hear the lock click and the gate open. He feels Francie's spit cooling on him.

Now Francie's giggling and jacking him off under the big hat, timing her strokes to the same timing as her husband's footsteps along the breezeway. When he turns the corner into the courtyard she chirps: "Hello graeme!"

"Pip, luv!" He says, waving to her. "Wot's that you have under there?"

"Oh, this?" Francie coos, pulling away her big sun hat. "Just the penis of a guy who voted against that property tax. So I had to let him sniff my bottom, didn't I?" Stroke, stroke. "And, well, you know how one thing leads to another."

"Ah! Too right!" graeme says. "Erections, I mean elections, have consequences!"

He's not naturalized yet so he can't vote, but he's been going through those citizenship classes. He stands at attention and salutes, says: "No taxation means his ejaculation, wot? Carry on, luv!"

He takes a step back to get a good view of his wife's show. She stands, turns and hops up on the edge of the fountain. She puts one blue trainer on each side of her boyfriend...

"Don't tread on him!" graeme paraphrases to fit the occasion.

...and squats.

Francie pulls up her skirt with one hand, grabs him with the other, and rubs the head on her underpants. She looks over her shoulder at her husband, tries a but of Brit-speak to tease him: "Just a bit of creampie frosting on me stinky biscuit!"

graeme gets close in, pushes her glasses up her nose, careful not to get too close and maybe ruin their moment. He picks up Francie's hat and puts it on the back of her head, giving those two a little privacy.

...which is what puts him over the edge. Of course he's no Peter North or anything, but the load Francie jacks out of him is pretty remarkable. The first squirt coats the front of Francie's panties, the next her perineum, and somehow there's a third that wet her bumhole. There's even some trickling down her inner thigh.

But any afterplay is not for her boyfriend. She immediately hops up, twists round on one foot, scooches over and leans back, using her spent toy as a chair back. She spreads her legs and shows her husband what they've done.

"Oh, well played sir!" says the cuck.

~ ~ ~

Before he knows it, graeme and Francie are standing on their doorstep, holding hands, about to head inside.

"Privilege of the marriage bed, old man." graeme says. "Cheerio!"

He sees himself out.

\O~O/

~

luv, francie

P.S. Sometimes a pretty girl with a garden hose is more than just a pretty girl with a garden hose.