Mowing

It was hot! Not the kind of heat one would feel in most areas of the country in July, but the humid, oppressive heat that was common in any part of South Florida except the beaches. That's what it was like when Josh stepped out the rear door of the nondescript concrete block house in the Northwest part of Fort Lauderdale. The house had been built in the forties by a family who had aspired towards farming without success and now existed as a lonely rental structure a good three miles from the center of town just a few hundred feet from the North branch of New River. Josh had to laugh at the label of 'river' because from what he could see it wasn't more than twenty-five feet wide. At least not in the area he was familiar with. He had always felt that the river should have been named 'Gator Creek' due to the large number of alligators and snakes populating the water near the house.

Their presence in the black water of the river had provided Josh with un-counted earnings when he was in his early teens by recovering misguided golf balls of the many golfers in the Wilton Manors golf course that bordered the road across from where he lived. Josh would hang out near the green located at the river's edge and when he would hear the tell-tale 'plunk' of a ball hitting the water, he'd wait for the irritated golfer to walk up to the green, take one look at the dark waters and mumble about his lost golf ball. Josh would quickly take advantage of the situation and volunteer to recover the ball. For a small tip, of course, which would usually result in an easily earned dollar or so. He had learned quickly that if he made a lot of noise when he entered the water he had nothing to fear from the populace of the dark denizens. He had received a scare one time when a water moccasin had wrapped around his leg, but then skittered away without sinking it's fangs in Josh's leg. Another time Josh did suffer a painful nip from a blue crab but the pain from the claw's pinch was short-lived when the golfer had tipped him five dollars to compensate for his minor pain. It might have been a minor pinch, but Josh had played it to the full, screaming in agony as he pried open the crab's claw.

Joshua was just eighteen that summer of 1959 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He was deeply tanned from his days in the sun, his hair bleached almost white, his brilliant blue-green eyes contrasting with his sunburnt features. His appearance had always made him popular with girls in school, beginning even in the girl-hating early elementary grades and continuing until that June when he graduated. Once Josh began to take notice of the opposite sex as something other than individuals to make fun of or antagonize, he often took advantage of their girlish flirtations, making it with those who would and playing with those who wouldn't. With his many conquests, Josh felt he knew all about making love to a woman, or so he thought.

Josh wasn't looking forward to the chore his mom had given him that morning before she left for work at the restaurant down at the corner of 16th street and St. Andrews but, with a resigned sigh, he stepped off the rear porch and walked up to the Poinciana tree and pulled the old mower out into the opening. As he filled the mower with gas, he looked out at the back yard and shook his head. As usual, the grass had thrived in the heat and summer showers and Josh knew that he was in for at least a couple hours of hard mowing, often having to re-crank a stalled mower when the thick grass would cause it to choke.

Josh pushed the old mower to a bare spot in the back yard and pulled the starter cord, once, twice, three times, and then the mower started, sputtering to life, coughing, then roaring, the muffler-less motor loud enough to wake the dead. Josh hoped that their neighbor wasn't still in bed, but he wanted to get an early start on his chore so he could go to the beach later with his best friend. He had waited until ten in the morning; certain Mrs. Davis would be up by then. He liked their neighbors, particularly Mrs. Davis, because she was always nice to him, giving him whatever treat she had made for the day, always friendly and cheerful. Not that Mr. Davis wasn't friendly, for he was, and he often would let Josh ride their old mare on the weekends when he was home. The Davis' didn't have any children and they seemed to have adopted Josh in their minds, paying him more attention than Josh's brothers or sisters.

Josh thought no more about his neighbors as he pushed the mower through the tall grass, having to constantly back up and go forward again to keep the old motor from being choked by the dew-wettened grass. He was shirtless, wearing just a pair of swimming trunks, the oppressive heat already making his tanned body run with sweat, rivulets coursing down his almost-hairless chest, down his backbone past the waistband of his trunks, to tickle the sensitive skin between his muscular butt cheeks. Often, Josh would stop to wipe the blinding sweat from his forehead with an old washcloth he carried, but the relief would only be temporary in the sultry weather, as his exertion brought forth more sweat.

Josh was just mowing the last strip of weeds and grass in the back yard, a portion of which was also the neighbor's back yard, when he heard someone call his name. The voice was coming from the neighbor's house, a low building that at one time was a feed barn and had been converted into living quarters. Josh couldn't see the person who called him, although he recognized Mrs. Davis' voice. He cut off the mower and stepped closer to the building so he could see what she wanted, having to step under the overhang of the metal shutters that hung out from the building, completely shading the interior.

When he got within a couple of feet of the window, Josh saw Mrs. Davis standing there, her head and shoulders visible above the window sill. "Hi, Mrs. Davis," he greeted. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, no, Josh. I was awake. I just wanted to thank you for cutting our part of the yard," she replied in her soft voice as she peered out at the profusely sweating teen.

Josh wiped his head with the washcloth. "Glad to, Mrs. Davis. I had to do our's, anyway." Josh moved a step closer to better see her shadowy face.

"You poor dear," Mrs. Davis said in her sympathetic tone. "You're soaked with perspiration. It's too hot out there to be mowing."

Josh nodded, "yes, ma'am, it is, but I'm finished now." He studied her mature face in the dim light, wanting to verify that she hadn't been asleep when he was mowing. He had always been struck by the older woman's elegant looks, even though she was about the same age as his mother. Her hair was silver, without even a hint of color, and he wondered how a woman in her thirties could turn gray-headed. Not that it subtracted from her looks, because she was quite attractive, with soft, rounded features, a tiny nose, and full lips, her skin like alabaster, appearing as smooth as silk.

She seemed to be studying his face a moment before she asked, "would you like some lemonade, Josh? It'll help cool you off."

The idea of a cold glass of lemonade made Josh perk up. "Yes, ma'am, that would be real nice."

Mrs. Davis took one step back from the window and began to turn as she said over her shoulder, "come on around, Josh. The door is unlocked."

Josh started to do as she said just as Mrs. Davis walked away from the window and he then saw that she was completely naked. Not a stitch of clothing, not even shoes or slippers. Josh couldn't help but stare at her naked backside as she walked toward their small kitchen. Her body was well rounded with a small waist, and her pale buttocks jiggled as she crossed the room on very shapely legs, with just a hint of wrinkling skin at the very top of her thighs.

Josh stepped closer to the window and stared, balanced on his toes, ready to duck should the nude woman feel his entranced stare, watching her naked body until she turned and entered the kitchen. He had seen more than one girl naked before, but this was the first time he had seen a real woman live and in the nude! The fact that Mrs. Davis was close to his mother's age didn't prevent his manhood from responding, rapidly pushing against the leg of his swim trunks.

Josh hurriedly went around the building to their back door and saw that Mrs. Davis had the door wide open, guarded only by a rickety screen door. He knew the back door was right next to the kitchen, so he gingerly knocked on the aging wood frame, not sure if he should walk right in with his neighbor completely naked.

Mrs. Davis called out as Josh knocked, "come on in, Josh. It's cooler in here."

His palms sweating from nervousness, Josh slowly opened the door, wincing at the sound of the creaking spring as he swung it wide enough to enter. He held the door as it closed, not wanting the spring to slam it shut, then turned to his right to enter the kitchen. There was Mrs. Davis, standing in the middle of the tiny room, glass of lemonade held in her outstretched hand, still naked, and smiling at the blonde teenager. Josh couldn't control his eyes as they wandered over her body, fascinated by the hairy bush of dark hair that came almost half way up her white-fleshed belly, proving that Mrs. Davis was not always gray-haired. His eyes wandered of their own accord up from the bushy mound, over the barely noticeable roll of flesh in the middle of her belly, traversing up to her very generous breasts. Josh had never realized that his neighbor had such large tits, usually only seeing her in her husband's oversize, button-up shirts worn outside of faded jeans. But they were large, and in the dim light, he could make out tiny stretch marks that years of gravity had placed in the sides of the ivory globes, and could even see the trace of blue veins running under the surface of the tightly stretched skin. Slightly below center, pointing, it seemed, at his crotch, were dark pink nubs sticking out from a brownish background of wrinkled flesh like two bug eyes, searching, but not seeing.

Josh's quick appraisal of her body didn't go unnoticed by Mrs. Davis, as she offered an apology for her nakedness. "I apologize for not having any clothes on, Josh, but it's so hot and I always feel better not wearing anything inside the house. It makes me feel so much cooler in this weather."

Josh stuttered a little, embarrassed that his stare had been so obvious. "I-I, I'm s-sorry, Mrs. Davis, I d-d-didn't mean to l-look."

"Oh, shush, Josh. It's okay." She handed him the glass of lemonade, then added, "Besides, I find it flattering that you look at me that way." She smiled at the flush showing in Josh's face beneath the tan, inwardly touched by his innocence.

They both consciously observed a minute of silence, Josh standing there nervously, looking everywhere except at the pretty woman in front of him, Mrs. Davis standing relaxed, her arms now crossed under her breasts, the soft globes resting on her forearms, the nipples now seeming to stare at the embarrassed boy. Breaking the silence, Mrs. Davis stepped past Josh, speaking across her shoulder to him, "just a minute, Josh. I'll be right back."

Josh's head turned to watch her walk away, his eyes again examining her nude back. Realizing he was staring again, Josh quickly snapped his eyes back to stare at the opposite wall of the kitchen, hoping his neighbor hadn't felt his eyes on her back.

Josh didn't hear Mrs. Davis' bare feet as she walked up behind him. The first he knew she had returned to the room was when he felt her hand on his shoulder, then the coarseness of a towel as she wiped away the sweat that was dripping down the small of his back. "You're all wet with sweat, Josh. Let me dry it off for you." She held the towel in one hand as she rubbed it up and down his back, her other hand still resting on his shoulder, but caressing Josh's firm, muscular skin.

Josh gulped some more lemonade, subconsciously aware of the sensuality of the naked woman's touch while comparing it to the touch of his mother when she used to wipe his face or clean his ears when he was a little boy. But this was different; his neighbor's touch was causing a stirring in his loins, a tingly feeling in his youthful balls. The feeling heightened as Mrs. Davis worked her way around to the front of his body, pushing his arms out of the way as she wiped his chest. Josh tried to not stare at her quivering breasts as she wiped his chest from side to side, but to no avail. His eyes were locked on the lily-white skin shaking from side to side with each movement of her arms. His mind began to wonder what it would be like to squeeze those fantastic mounds, to suck on the tiny nipples, and his body began to respond to those thoughts, his dick beginning to push against the material of his trunks. Feeling his reaction, Josh immediately transferred his thoughts to other things; the beach, his friends, even school. Nothing worked, as his organ continue to push against its confines, seeking freedom, release. Josh's attempts at controlling his young body's urging became fruitless as Mrs. Davis knelt down and began to wipe his legs, beginning at his deck shoes and running up to where his short swim trunks met his muscular thighs. Sweat popped out on his head as Mrs. Davis began to dry between his legs and Josh closed his eyes in a silent prayer that the kneeling, nude woman wouldn't see the beginning of his erection straining against the thin material.

If she saw the evidence of Josh's excitement, Mrs. Davis gave no hint of it as she rose from the floor, apparently satisfied with her drying of his body. Josh gave a sigh of relief when Mrs. Davis didn't say anything about his emerging manhood, merely taking the empty glass from his hand and sitting it on the kitchen table. "Do you want any more, Josh?"

Josh could only shake his head, not trusting his voice; afraid it would betray him, as he wondered how to make a graceful exit without offending his neighbor. But Mrs. Davis wasn't finished with her drying task after all. Taking Josh's hand, she pulled him through the cluttered living room to a room beyond, which turned out to be a bedroom. Puzzled, Josh could only dart his eyes around the room, furnished with an unmade brass bed and large dresser with a mirror hung crookedly above it.

Mrs. Davis led Josh to the bed and gently pushed him down to sit on the edge as she said in a comforting tone, "you're still a little wet, Josh, and I can't let you go like that. I'll finish drying you and then you can go." She put the towel on his sweat-slicked head and began to briskly rub his hair. Josh could see her body from the waist down as she tended to his head, rubbing it like she was doing hand laundry. The view caused Josh's loins to stir again as his eyes focused on the triangular patch of curly, dark brown hair that disappeared between her legs. Her rubbing motion was causing the cellulite in her thighs to shake back and forth, giving the sensual appearance of her hips growing out and down, as though inviting him to lie on them.

Finished with his hair, Mrs. Davis then lightly, but firmly, pushed Josh back on the bed so he was lying across it, his feet still touching the floor. She got up on the bed beside him and began to rub his stomach with the towel as she knelt at his side, her full breasts dangling over him, hypnotizingly bobbing as she dried the already-dry skin of his washboard stomach. Josh couldn't resist her attentions, beginning to become lost in her touch and her warmth, the sweet smell of her body hovering over him. Even when he felt her hand push the towel inside the tight band of his trunks, Josh could only lie there and submit to her ministrations.

Josh was shocked when he felt Mrs. Davis begin to work his swimming suit down over his hips, but made no move to stop her, enjoying her touch and wondering at what point she would stop her task of 'drying' him off. He felt the soft hands as they slipped inside the tight elastic of the trunks on each side of his hips and slide the suit to his knees, revealing his privates, his thickening dick springing to a position pointing at his head when it was freed from the restraining material. Josh closed his eyes, not wanting to see the older woman's face as she peered at his genitals, feeling embarrassed, but at the same time, arousal, at the thought she was now seeing him naked. His stomach involuntarily flinched when he felt her bare palm rest on his belly just above his pubic hairs and begin to stroke the flat area from side to side, no longer using the towel as a pretense.

A warm hand dropped to the nut sack propped between his closed legs and gently rubbed the tightened egg-size appendage. Josh felt the skin of his sack tighten as the hand moved up to the base of his rapidly hardening prick, gently sliding up the underside until it reached the head. He felt a finger lightly stroke the exposed head and the responding dick jump from her touch.

Mrs. Davis laughed, "mmm, it seems to like that," as she tested its reflex again with her finger, laughing softly as his dick one again responded with a jerk.

Josh felt the examining woman's body move on the bed, the mattress yielding and then springing back to shape as Mrs. Davis got off the bed. Then he felt her pulling his swim suit over his knees and feet, followed by her tenderly lifting his legs and turning him on the bed, not assisting her in her efforts for fear of appearing to take her actions for granted. When she had straightened his body on the bed, Josh felt the mattress yield again from her weight and cracked his eyes open into narrow slits to spy on her as she got on the bed beside him, quickly closing them when she began to lie down. He felt her very warm body as she rested beside him on her side, their skin barely touching, and then her now-hot hand return to his belly, stroking the thin line of blonde hair that ran from his pubic hair to his navel, the top of her hand brushing against his dick as she stroked downward.

Josh kept his eyes closed, enjoying his seemingly detached role as the woman's plaything, hoping she wouldn't stop. Mrs. Davis' caressing of his body continued, her hand now stroking the length of the underside of his dick, feeling her fingers examine the bulging tube that ran from his nuts to the tip of the swollen head, tracing the rope-like veins that circled the hardened meat. He couldn't believe the heat that emanated from the naked woman as he felt her leg rest across his legs, her belly come into contact with the flesh of his hip, the brush of her full tits against his arm.

After what seemed both an eternity and only a few seconds, the warm hand left his genitals and rested in the middle of his chest. He heard her soft voice and opened his eyes. "Would you like to make love to me, Josh?" Her leg on his moved up and down suggestively, the softness of her skin tantalizing his, as he turned his head to look at Mrs. Davis, shocked by her question.

"I, I don't know, Mrs. Davis." Realizing how dumb that sounded, Josh quickly blurted, "I mean, I mean I don't know if I should, ma'am. I-I-I, how about Mr. Davis?"

The blue eyes looked at him adoringly through heavy lids as she smiled, "I think you should call me Doris, Josh. 'Mrs.' makes me feel old. Do you think I'm old, Josh?"

Josh stuttered again, "n-no, ma'am. I m-mean, no, Doris. You're not old. I think you're beautiful." Josh was embarrassed by his stuttering and couldn't understand what had happened to his usual self-assuredness when he was with a girl.

Her warm smile shined on him again, "thank you, Josh. I think you are, too. You're such a beautiful boy. You have such a beautiful body." As though proving her statement, she began to stroke his chest and stomach again with the palm of her hand, causing the heat inside of his naked body to rise to the surface, to bond with her hot hand. Looking down at his erection as she propped herself on one arm, Mrs. Davis invited once more, "I want to make love with you, Josh. Don't worry about Bill, he's on the road to Kansas right now and won't be back until Saturday."