Yardwork

YARDWORK

Chapter 1

"SON of a BITCH!!"

What was left of the bush I was trying to remove from my yard was not cooperating, and I was not happy.

"I don't think that that's what they meant when they said to talk to your plants, Tom." Startled, I looked up to see who had responded to my outburst. Standing in the greenway behind the yard was Lisa, my neighbor, my delightful little doll of a neighbor. A smidge over five feet tall, with a face like Bridget Bardot surrounded by shoulder length chestnut hair and curves that could turn the Pope into a raging horndog. Fifty years old going on twenty-two, a hundred or so pounds of deliciousness.

We had talked frequently enough, sharing funny memes and jokes and enjoying photographing the unusual birds near our homes, the egrets and herons and migrating geese. She and I had been flirting for years, and despite suggestive language, revealing clothing, and "accidental" rubs of key body parts against me, nothing serious had ever transpired. She had mastered the art of taking things right to the edge before backing off and I had long ago forgotten about ever hooking up. I have never been into playing games, and I certainly wasn't going to start now. But what a view.

Oh holy shit. Look at that, the high beams are on. Eyes up, boy.

"Uh, yeah. I'm trying to get this out, but it has other ideas." Oh fuck me, that is a world class rack. Cleavage and nips, and no bra. What could be better?

"Did you soak the ground before you started digging?"

"Yeah, I did, but this thing has been here since the house was built and the roots go deep." And could those shorts be any smaller? Ooo, I just love me that tiny ass.

She stepped toward the bush and knelt on the other side of it, facing me. Leaning forward to see what I had done, the scoop neck of her shirt dropped a bit more, giving me a pretty much full on view of her magnificent globes, her nipples straining to poke through the fabric. Oh jeebus have mercy, I could get lost in those babies.

She interrupted my reverie. "Ahem." Uh..."AHEM." I lifted my gaze to meet hers, her large grey-green eyes locked on me.

"Geez, dude. It's not like you've never seen tits before."

No time like the present. "But I've never seen yours, and they are magnificent." She actually blushed and dipped her eyes demurely, then looked back at me.

"Touché." We both held the stare for a few seconds before she spoke, looking down at the bush.

Her breath caught up short. "Wh...wh...what seems to be causing the problem?"

"I think it's the taproot. This thing has been here for over 50 years and the taproot is very hard and very deep." I watched her face to gauge her reaction to my obvious double entendre.

"Well, if you got it wet enough it would slide out easily," she fired back immediately. Oh goddam, she gives as good as she gets. "Did you use your fingers to feel for a place to cut it?" Zing.

"Yeah, I got three of them way into the hole, but couldn't find it." Back atcha.

"Just like a man." Game, set, match. I could see I was outclassed. "So what's your next step?"

"Probably just dig all around it down about two feet down and cut it off there."

"Sounds like a plan. Before you start doing that, can I get some water? Watching people work makes me thirsty."

So I was going to have an audience. "Sure, I have some inside." I went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles out of the refrigerator. Returning to the yard, I found her settled into a chaise, doing that fanning thing where they grab the neck of their shirt and pump air across their chest. Yep, just as I thought. No tittie binder, and those babies are fucking trophies. Best in class.

"Thanks, handsome." She rolled the chilled bottle on her neck and the moisture that had accumulated on it rolled down her chest and under the shirt. "Fuck, it's hot." With a smile at her I turned to my task. Hot, indeed.

She was right about the heat, and I was sweat soaked in minutes. When I stripped off my t-shirt, I heard a noise from her direction that sounded like "Wow." I smiled to myself; I was pretty proud of my physical condition, the product of hours in the gym and lots of physical labor at home. I knew I wasn't an Adonis, but even in my fifties I was NOT going to become a fat, flabby old man if I had anything to say about it.

Taking a long, cold drink from my own bottle, I glanced at her. She had rolled up the hem of her tiny shirt, exposing her rock hard abs and the bottom half of her splendid rack. I do love underboob, it leaves just enough to the imagination and is sexy as hell.

"Well, someone is getting comfortable."

"Not really," she answered. "It's still too fucking hot." She languidly stretched out her tanned legs on the chaise, lifting her arms back over her head and pulling the shirt up farther, briefly exposing the bottoms of her darker pink aureoles. She noticed my stare and brought her arms down, smiling and wagging her finger at me like I was a misbehaving child. Oh, fuck me to hell. I'm about a minute away from jumping her.

"Back to work, you."

It was difficult concentrating on a chore with this petite little goddess lying there mostly naked, but I managed to get most of the hole dug. "OK, that's enough," she called to me after about half an hour. "You're making me tired just watching you. Come over and talk to me." You don't have to tell me that more than once.

I couldn't help but notice her tiny shorts, really not much more than loose boy shorts. Even with her small stature they made her legs, her shapely legs, look longer as she reclined comfortably, and I wondered if she was going commando. My appreciative gaze wandered along her entire length as she spoke. She is one beautiful woman, she is. And my shorts are becoming quite tight.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Yes, very much." No point in being coy. I want to fuck your brains out, lady.

"So what do you do with your time since you retired? Are you seeing anyone?"

"Whatever I feel like doing, whenever I feel like doing it. I like to say that being retired means I have nowhere to be and no time I have to be there. Bike, gym, travel, read, whatever. And I see who I want to see, but no, no one special." I had retired from the Army, taught for a few years, and my simple needs meant I lived a pretty comfortable life. Two failed marriages with no ongoing financial obligations had taught me valuable life lessons.

She looked at me for a long moment, seeming to consider my words.

I continued. "Now I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"Do you enjoy torturing me?"

"Torture?

"Yes, that's the word. Between the amount of skin you're showing me and your obvious flirting, we both know where this is going. Why today? Why now?"

"Where do you think this is going?"

"Don't be coy. You've been teasing me since the first time I met you. You always come on all sexy and hot, rubbing against me, making sure you're wearing your sexiest clothes, flashing some skin now and then, and leading with one double entendre after another. But when I start to call you on it you immediately start backpedaling, suddenly having something else to do. Don't be a tease."

"I'm not...

"Yes, you are. You are a stunningly beautiful woman who is about two seconds away from being completely nude on my patio, I am a typical red-blooded American male who appreciates beauty, and you're coming on to me yet again. Time to show your hand, girl."

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Her voice had softened almost to a whisper.

"Um, yeah. You have to know the effect you have on men."

"No one ever tells me that." Her lower lip actually quivered.

"Then you've been hanging out with the wrong people. You look like a fucking goddess."

"Thank you. I'll be honest. I think I was fishing for those compliments. My ex spent years putting me down, especially when he was drinking, and I've had a lot of trouble getting past that. My ego needed a boost."

"I don't believe in insincere praise. I meant every word I said."

"I know you did, that's why I like you. Give me a hug."

I leaned forward and laid my head next to hers. Her arm came up around my neck and she held me to her for a long moment. "Thank you again," she whispered into my ear. "You make me feel special." I lifted my head and looked into her gorgeous eyes from six inches away.

"Lisa, when you know how special you are, you can do anything. What other people think is of no consequence."

Are those tears I see forming? I barely had a moment to consider the questions when she pulled my head to her face and our lips met, gently lingering together for several seconds. Her lips were soft, eminently kissable, and tasted faintly of something minty. We broke the kiss and I sat back down.

Without a word, she briefly sat up, and crossing her arms, grabbed the tiny shirt and whipped it off over her head. Her magnificent breasts were now fully exposed. She sat back down and stared at me, her eyes challenging me to do something.

Sweet mother of god, I do believe I have achieved Nirvana. Now, at my age I had certainly seen more than my share of boobs up close and personal. Small ones, big ones, perky ones, flabby ones, once or twice even enormous ones, but never -- never -- had I seen tits so perfect.

And "perfect" didn't begin to describe them; they were magnificent. They were large for a woman her size, maybe a C cup, and stood straight and proud on their own. They were natural, with no signs of artificial enhancement, two glorious half cantaloupes siting firm and upright. The lack of a tan line indicated time spent either on a tanning bed or sunbathing au naturel. Each one was a perfect monument to femininity on its own; together they were Venus de Milo, Boticelli's Venus, and the Playmate of the Year wrapped into one.

Her nipples were prominent, the aureoles just the perfect size around them, and contrasted nicely with the firm skin of her mounds. The valley between them cried out for attention, for an endless string of kisses or even a bed for the hardon that was struggling to escape the confines of my shorts.

"Holy shit," was all my racing mind could conjure. She smiled.

With that smile still on her face and her grey-green orbs locked on me, she hooked her thumbs into the waist of her tiny shorts, and lifting her hips slightly slid them down her legs and off. I was right, nothing underneath them except her skin. The image was complete. Holy fuck, I can't breathe. This is not real.

And there she was, in all her glory. I couldn't help but notice her small and well-groomed but still prominent bush, a feature I have to admit I enjoy as I don't like my partners to look like they're prepubescent children. Trimmed to a nice little triangle, pointing the way to paradise. Her inner lips were prominent, showing just a hint of pink from this angle. Is that a drop of moisture I see? I can smell the desire.

Her astounding chest was accentuated by the rock-hard plain of muscle from which it rose. Not an ounce of excess there, no. Her hips were narrow, promising a nice, tight ass, and she had just the right amount of curve as they flared out from her waist.

Shitfire, even her tummy is sexy.

Something else struck me -- she was ink free. I am not a big fan of tats; while a discreet little flower or butterfly might be a nice touch, the huge sleeves and body coverings leave me cold as I think they distract from a woman's natural beauty and make her resemble a biker mama or a stripper. Tramp stamps bug me: maybe it's my age, but I find them off-putting. There was nothing on her perfect body to distract from the breathtaking image before me, her skin covered with a thin sheen of perspiration in the beating sun. Too fucking sexy.

Her voice broke my reverie. "You look uncomfortable in those shorts." She raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Uh, yeah, a bit. I need to do two things first."

"Really? What..." she stopped as I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers in a long, passionate kiss. Our faces melted together as our tongues danced. My left hand enclosed one of her breasts as she sighed contentedly, gently but insistently kneading her firm flesh. I squeezed her nipple with my thumb and forefinger as she moaned into my mouth. My hand brushed lightly across her other breast as I broke our kiss and bent to brush my lips across her abs, deferring my anticipated devouring of her glorious rack.

Fer chrissake, this is unbelievable. What a body.

My left hand gently stroked her leg as I kissed her midsection. So this is was the term "silky smooth skin" means...

"You don't waste any time, do you?" she sighed.

"Not when a goddess is waiting, no." My lips traces across her midsection, lower and lower, the salty tang of her sweat a suitable seasoning on the fest before me. Her musk filled my senses.

"Any straight man would willingly give up a body part to be where I am right now," I told her. "But right now, it's about you." I dropped to the ground and knelt at her feet. I rested my hands lightly on the inside of her knees and directly met her gaze. She licked her lips in anticipation.

"You deserve to feel good about yourself," I continued, "and I want to help you feel really, really good about everything today." I bent to kiss the inside of her left calf, and slowly but inexorably kissing my way up her legs. A slight moan escaped her lips and she rolled her head back. Her legs relaxed and parted slowly.

I couldn't resist an occasional glance up the length of her body, across the strong, firm thighs, the flat washboard abs, the mountains of delight lingering on the horizon. Her eyes were closed, her mouth opened just a crack as her tongue teased her lips. My lips grazed the insides of her thighs and her legs moved farther apart.

Resisting the urge to grind my face into her delightful honey pot, I suspended my face inches away and let my hot breath tickle it. Extending my tongue, I lightly touched it with just the tip, running it the length of her slit. A quivering moan escaped her barely parted lips.

Now, allow me to momentarily digress. I love eating pussy; it is about my favorite sexual act short of actually cumming. It's infinitely intimate, simultaneously allowing a woman to expose her vulnerability while allowing a man to demonstrate how safe she is doing that. It is a gift from a man to his lover, a total focus on elevating her pleasure while subjugating his own for the moment. And I have found that women who genuinely enjoy getting head are usually more than willing to give it in return.

But back to the task at hand. I moved my face in closer and lowered it, inserting my tongue into her canal and pressing my lips against her mound. As I slid up her dripping slit, my upper lip rubbed across her clit and fully exposed it, the rough surface of the tongue finally dragging slowly across it and turning her soft moans into slurred words of pleasure.

"Uuuuuhhhhh fuck yes oh fuck yes oh fuck yes..." I thought she was going to cry as I flicked her little man with the tip of my tongue. Her scent filled my nostrils and she whimpered.

Time to take this to the next level. Her knees were slightly lifted on either side of my head, so I moved my hands under them. With a gentle but insistent pressure I lifter her knees upward and toward her chest, lifting her hips and parting her box even more as I pressed my mouth firmly against it, burying my tongue as far as I could into her waiting hole. Her moans turned into outright screams.

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHOMIGODOMIGODOMIGODYESYESYES!!!!!!!!!" Her hands grabbed the back of my head and crushed it to her pussy as I drink in her hot juices. I continued to lick and suck and kiss every inch of her sex, this moment inserting my tongue and the next sucking on her swollen clit. Again and again I licked the length of her, pausing at the top to flick her button with the tip of my expert tongue. Without removing my mouth, I inserted a finger into her and curved it up, seeking that very special spot. I found it quickly and added another finger as she writhed and moaned. That finally did it.

"Ohfuckmeyesthatsamazingohshitimcumming......" I felt her body tense and her pelvis lift as her orgasm came closer. "Yesyesyesyes..." With a final push, she grabbed my head with both hands and pressed it tightly against her dripping box as her body quivered and her honey pot pulsed against my mouth and hand. "Unnngghhhhhhhh..."she grunted as wave after wave of release flowed through her. She was gripping my head so tightly that I could barely breathe, but I was going to see her through this.

As her orgasm subsided, she finally relaxed her grip on my head enough for me to grab a deep lungful of air. She was panting, gulping precious oxygen, her chest heaving and her body now dripping with sweat.

"Son. Of. A. Bitch." she grunted. "I have never cum that hard in my entire life. Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

"I'm guessing you liked it," I replied from between her thighs.

"Uh, yeah, you could say that," she chuckled. "Jesus H, that was great." She was still catching her breath, her delicious mounds heaving.

Not wanting to lose the moment, I stood and gazed at her arrayed before me as I quickly unfastened my shorts and pushed them and my boxers down my legs, stepping out of them. Straddling the chaise, I slid my legs under hers and used my hands to support the backs of her knees. She was now bent almost in half, her soaked pussy wide open, the brown bud of her ass just below, my now raging hardon resting on her prominent labia.

Moving only my hips, I slid back enough to bring the head of my engorged cock to her opening, then slowly, ever so slowly, pushed my hips forward so it entered her. I could see her eyes widen and heard a small gasp as I pushed into her with exquisite slowness. I kept my eyes locked on hers as I moved my hips more, inexorably pushing more and more of my engorged cock into her until my balls rested on her ass, her sweet wetness surrounding and caressing my burning rod.

"Careful buddy, I'm still pretty sensitive from that tongue lashing you just gave me." Holding myself tight against her dripping honey pot, I rotated my hips so my cock would describe a circle inside her, our eyes still locked on each other.

"Now where did you learn that trick?" she gasped.

"Something I picked up along the way," I answered. "Just enjoy it." I began slowly stroking my rod into her, out a bit then back in, slowly but insistently. A whimper escaped her lips. I began to increase the pace of my pumping, my balls pressing against her delightful ass with each stroke. A small whimper escaped her lips and her eyes closed.

Slowly easing her legs down over mine, I slid my hands up her thighs and over her hips, down the sides of her ribcage until my hands could reach underneath her shoulders. With gentle but insistent pressure I indicated that I wanted her to sit up, so she grasped my arms and together we brought her to an upright position and onto my lap so she faced me with her legs around my waist and my cock still buried in her. Our lips crushed together, and our tongues sought out the other voraciously, her breasts smashed against my upper chest. My hands grasped her delightful ass cheeks and moved with her as her own hips took up the rhythm and she moved up and down on me. Breaking the kiss, she buried her face on my shoulder and focused on the sheer physicality of our act and the orgasm again building in her.

"I don't believe this, I'm gonna cum again," she whispered next to my ear, the pace of her movements increasing.