Women Make the Man Ch. 03 - Yard Work

This is the third Chapter in "Women Make the Man". It can stand alone, but I recommend reading from Ch. 1. All characters are over 18.

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In June the days are long on The Island. I was 18 years old in the Summer between high school graduation and heading off for college.

My mom and I had finished dinner and I decided to make the most of the lingering daylight by heading out for a hike.

There were still a lot of woods on The Island, scrub pine, scrub oak, bayberries. In the early summer, the soil was still damp from the melted snow of winter, yet the leaves were green with the new growth of spring.

The intoxicating fragrance of the familiar woods filled me with joy as I climbed the trail to the hill overlooking our neighborhood. There was the musty smell of damp earth, the bright green tang of new growth, and the unmistakable scent of salt air.

Something about being out in the woods alone always makes me horny.

As I neared the top of the hill, I saw a small space off the path surrounded by scrub oak and pine. I headed there and leaned against the back side of a pine tree. I could see our neighborhood and all the way down the hill to the bay below. The ground was covered by pine needles and oak leaves with new grass forcing its way up wherever it had an opening.

Slowly I unbuttoned my blue plaid cotton shirt, slid it off my shoulders and let it fall on the ground. My nipples stood erect in the cool evening breeze.

I put my hands on my tits and slowly slid them down to my belt. I unhooked the buckle, unbuttoned my tan Bermudas, and slowly pulled down the zipper.

My shorts fell down around my feet. I untied my sneakers, kicked them off, and stepped out of my pants. I could feel the damp earth under my feet: the sticks, the pine needles, the leaves.

My cock was sticking straight out, turning my white boxers into a tent. Gently, I slid my boxers down my legs and over my feet. For some reason, I hung them on a nearby branch.

I was naked in the woods.

With both hands I grabbed my buttocks, loosening my grip into a caress. Slowly I slid my hands around my hips and found the edge of my dark pubic hair. I followed the fleshy mound at the base of my penis, down between my legs to my balls. Both hands slid under my balls and lifted my package, holding it straight out. The cool breeze caressed the underside of my testicles.

I moved my fingers to the base of my shaft, then very slowly began feeling my way up to the tip. My cock jerked with excitement when I reached the rim of my circumcised glans. With the tips of my fingers, I experienced the hard sponginess of the head of my erect penis.

Then I slid my right hand down and cupped my balls. The fingers of my left hand enfolded my rock hard shaft. I squeezed slightly, and ever so slowly began to stroke.

I closed my eyes and melted into the woods, the earth, and the all consuming power of life. I opened my eyes to see a long spurt of jism fly out the end of my prick and down the hill, landing on the damp earth. I finished my load and wiped the last drops off my tip with my finger which I then placed on my tongue, tasting my own musky fluid.

That night I was so whacked that I went to bed early and had no trouble falling asleep.

The next day I got up late, and ran down to the beach for a quick swim before heading over to Mrs. LaPage's house to begin whatever yard work she had planned for me.

Janet LaPage's modern ranch style house was across the street at the base of the hill that overlooked our street. Unlike the smaller older houses that occupied the Island, it sprawled over the high ground surrounded by a broad lawn with a fenced in back yard that was dominated by a large heated swimming pool — quite a rarity in that part of the country.

It was a little after lunch when I let myself in through the back gate. Mrs. LaPage was on the sundeck, reclining in a lounge chair.

"Oh Hi, Billy," she said cheerfully, "I've been waiting for you."

"Hi, Mrs. LaPage," I replied.

On the table next to her was a tall glass with a half consumed icy beverage, a pair of binoculars, a clamshell ashtray, gold Zippo lighter, and the ever present pack of Newports.

She swung her long legs around and rose to meet me.

Janet LaPage was tall, athletic, and nearly 50. She kept her dirty blonde hair in a boyish cut. She was wearing a long unbuttoned blouse that draped down to her hips revealing a coral pink two piece bathing suit that matched her earrings. To me she had always seemed the picture of sophistication.

Languidly, the tall, lean woman came almost uncomfortably close and lightly placed her hand on my arm. I couldn't help but look down at her cleavage and the shape of her breasts supported by the revealing swimsuit.

She laughed coyly, and I brought my gaze up to her bright hazel eyes.

"Before you get into the heavy work, I'd like you to do me a favor," she said.

"Um, sure."

"Would you rub some suntan lotion on my back?"

"Um, uh, yeah, ok."

She headed back to the lounge chair slipping out of the white blouse as she walked. I noticed the curve of her waist. The tight swimsuit pulled against her ass as she bent over to lower the back of the chair to the flat position.

Mrs. LaPage lay face down and reached around to unhook her top.

"The lotion's right here," she said matter of factly.

Hesitantly, I squeezed out a dollop onto my fingers and placed it in the middle of her back.

"You have to spread it around, you know," she said with a chuckle.

I began to rub in the lotion with a circular motion, making sure to stay well within her shoulder blades.

"Be sure to get my neck and shoulders," she said.

I moved up to her neck. Using both hands now I rubbed her neck and slid down to her shoulders. She raised her arms and my hands followed down her sides, dangerously close to her boobs.

I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen, but Mrs. LaPage gave no indication that I was out of line.

I moved down to her waist and covered the small of her back.

"Mmm," she said. "You've got a nice touch, Billy. Now do my legs."

I started down at her slender ankle and felt my way up her solid calf, past the back of her knee and on to her thigh.

I had never before put my hands on a woman. This was a woman I had known for much of my life who was older than my mother, yet here I was, experiencing every inch of her. My shyness was receding as my desire grew.

"Make sure you go all the way up," she directed.

"Uh, up?" I stammered.

"Don't leave anything uncovered. All the way up to the bottom of my suit."

Cautiously, I worked my way up the back of her leg to the bottom of her swimsuit. She moved her leg, presenting the inside of her thigh.

"Get the inside too," she said in a quieter tone.

I placed my hand on the inside of her thigh and moved up toward the top of her leg.

"That's the way," she said softly. "Now do the other leg. And use both hands."

I rubbed lotion on my hands and wrapped them around her ankle working my way up her leg until I held her thigh in both hands. Cautiously, I moved up to the edge of her swimsuit and held her there with my finger on the seam.

She wiggled slightly and brought her legs together squeezing my hand between her thighs. She took a deep breath and sighed.

"You're good at this. You've got a really nice touch."

"Um, than you, Mrs. LaPage," I mumbled.

"Call me Janet, OK. We're both adults now, aren't we?" she chuckled. Now I really do have some work for you to do."

I spent the next couple hours raking, trimming, and otherwise working off my heightened state of energy in the unseasonably warm afternoon. I was assembling a pile of leaves and sticks by the back fence when Mrs. LaPage called me back to the deck.

"Billy, why don't you take a break? It's such a hot day. Come over here in the shade."

I descended across the lawn and sat down in one of the deck chairs.

"Do you want a beer? ... Or would you rather have a highball," she said with a wink.

The drinking age in our state was 21 and I was only 18, but the notion of sharing a beer with this worldly woman was certainly appealing.

Alcohol was not a part of life in my family. Sure there was a bottle of Seagram's 7 that was trotted out once a year when my dad's colleagues in the sales department came over on the Friday before Christmas, crowding the living room, drinking hi-balls, and filling the air with bad jokes and cigarette smoke. But, otherwise, Pepsi-Cola was about as strong as it got.

"A beer would be nice," I replied.

Janet went into the house while I enjoyed the breeze off the bay. She returned with a cold can of Narragansett for me and a refilled cocktail for herself.

She sat down across from me and lit a cigarette.

"So how's the girlfriend situation?" she asked.

"Oh, you know..."

"Who's that girl from the other side of the Island? What's her name..."

"You mean Ginnie?"

"Yeah, what's going on with her?"

"They won't be getting out here 'til the middle of July and then her family's all taking a trip to Europe, so I guess I won't be seeing much of her."

Ginnie's folks had been summering on the Island almost as long as we had. She was actually a year older than I was, got to high school a year before I did and was now going to be a sophomore at a small liberal arts school in Pennsylvania. She had always been my scout, reporting back on what I could expect on the road ahead.

She was a good Catholic girl with remarkable intelligence, genuinely committed to preserving her virtue. Oh she liked sitting in the moonlight and making out, but it was clear that nothing was going to progress beyond kissing. Appropriately, her name was Virginia, but everyone called her Ginnie.

"Well, you know what they say, 'If you're not near the girl you love, love the girl you're near.'"

I didn't know how to react, so I took a sip of my beer and looked up at the hillside.

Janet picked up the binoculars and began surveying the trees.

"There's a family of quail up on the ridge. Did you see them?" she asked. "There's all sorts of wildlife around here. You'd be surprised."

My heart froze for an instant. Could Mrs. LaPage have seen yesterday's naked romp in the woods? Nah! Highly unlikely. But with the binoculars...

"Hey, you're all sweaty. Why don't you jump in the pool and cool off?" she suggested.

"Yeah, great! I'll just run back and get my suit."

"Oh you don't need a suit, just go skinny dipping!"

I blushed and fumbled for a response.

"Or go in your underwear. Nobody will see you."

A quick swim in the big pool was certainly an appealing idea. I peeled off my T-shirt, dropped my shorts and dove in.

As I hit the water I could feel my white boxers slide down over my ass. Hurriedly I pulled them back up.

"I told you to go skinny dipping," Janet laughed. "Looks good. Maybe I'll join you."

And with that, she eased herself into the water. I'd never thought about it, but her every movement was filled with grace.

'Let's see if you can swim," she challenged. "I'll race you to the other end," and she launched herself across the pool.

I swam after her as fast as I could, but the drag on my boxers left me yanking at the waistband to keep them from falling off.

Janet was waiting for me at the far end. I turned to head back when I felt a tug on my waistband. I turned to see her holding my wet boxers over her head.

"You don't need these!" she said as she tossed them onto the deck. "Now let's see you swim!"

I'd never been skinny dipping before. I'd never felt the caress of the water, nor the feeling of freedom. I swam much faster.

Resting at the edge of the pool, I suddenly realized how strange this all was.

"Mrs. LaPage," I began.

"It's Janet. You're swimming bare-assed in my pool. You can call me Janet, allright?"

She put her hand on the side of my neck and looked into my eyes.

"I think you've done enough for one day. Come back tomorrow. I'll have more for you to do."

I watched her climb out of the pool: the long legs, the pink suit tight on her butt, the taper of her back. I thought I might be in love.

(To be continued...)