Mrs. Dawson 01

"Alright, Mrs. Dawson, what the hell is up with you standing in your driveway for the last 30 minutes and just staring into your garage with your hands hips and all?"

"Oh, hi Freddy, um, I was watching a home improvement show last night and they had a five-question quiz about a garage and apparently, I failed the first question, so."

"Well, what was the first question then?"

"LOL, if you have a two-car garage, can you even park in the garage, LOL."

"I mean, you have this space right up the middle in between all these poorly stacked large plastic containers to the left and to the right, so put it right up the middle then, Mrs. Dawson."

"Oh, and the second quiz question was "do you think that your containers are neatly stacked?" and all, which is when I gave up on the quiz, so."

"Alright, so what's the plan then, Mrs. Dawson? Are you going to start tossing stuff out or put it out this weekend for the city sponsored yard sale weekend?"

"Well Freddy, that's where I'm stuck. There's probably some decent stuff in these plastic containers, but yard sales are just a pain to deal with, right? However, in my favor, I think, the containers with the red lids are my stuff and the containers with the blue lids are the ex hubby's stuff, not that it helps all that much now that I've said that out loud, so."

"Well, hold on, Mrs. Dawson, that may be more beneficial than you think."

Hi folks, I'm Freddy and within one hour and two beers, I managed to give each blue lid container a cursory review and ended up with three categories. Tools, man nick knack junk and straight up junk.

On the other hand, apparently, Mrs. Dawson spent her one hour retrieving my two beers and changing her clothes. Well, changing the appearance of her clothes. I'm not sure what women call that thing where they tie their shirts into a knot between the breast line and the belt loop line, but whatever it's called, it's cool.

"Alright, Freddy, what's next then? It's still going to be a pain to participate in the yard sale weekend, so."

Oh, I had a plan alright, but I was never very good with knots, so I went with plan B. And step one of plan B was to drag the four containers of straight up junk out of the garage and around to the side of the garage for that "out of site, out of mind" effect, which immediately exposed a little bit of the concrete floor to become visible for the first time in what was probably years. But just a little bit.

"Well, what's that, Freddy?"

"The corner of the garage and some of the floor, Mrs. Dawson."

"Well, I guess I like that then. I also guess that you like my boobs, young man, but I guess that's hard wired into your male brain, so."

"And I'm guilty of being a male, so for one more beer, I'll present you with a proposal for the rest of the containers, so."

Yep, I had a plan. I never thought that Mrs. Dawson was going to be too concerned about the money, so I dragged out all of the remaining blue lid plastic containers and lined them up in the driveway and gave Mrs. Dawson my proposal. And it's not like I reverted back to my youth and built a fort around her SUV that had to be parked in the driveway because she couldn't park in the garage, LOL, but I totally built a fort wall of plastic containers on both sides of her SUV, LOL.

"Ugh, I mean, Freddy, what's the next step from your male mind then? And make it quick before one of my young nephews stops by and spies a fort to play in, LOL."

"Ahh, here we go, Mrs. Dawson, so prepare yourself for the weird workings of the male mind. Step one, I'm assuming that you don't care all that much about the cash from selling this stuff and step B, send a text to Mr. Larkins and offer to sell any or all of these containers on the cheap as a "pre-sale" in advance of the beginning of the yard sale that starts tomorrow. I mean, as far as I know, that old man is all about yard sales and for the right price, he could easily double or triple his money, so."

"Hmm, maybe men add value once in a while and I do like how it looks like I have a new garage already, so, I'll send that text then. And maybe cover up a little."

Well, that worked! Old man Larkins was in his 7th heaven with 12 large plastic containers on the cheap that were full of stuff that could be sold at his yard sale. And he even gave a little better for each plastic container than I expected, but the Mrs. Dawson just barely covered up and we all know the workings of the male brain, right?

He even gave the 4 straight up junk plastic containers on the side of the garage a quick look over and took them too.

"Sonny, why is this container duct taped shut? I mean, I don't want to haul off any toxic material or anything, so?"

"Oh, um, Mr. Larkin, um, I duct taped that container shut. Um, it's not full of toxic material, but it is full of, um, well, man on man stuff, I think. I just didn't want to expose Mrs. Dawson to it, even though I will admit that I don't really know how most of it works, but I'm quite positive that it's not a girl-guy plastic container, so?????"

"Oh, well, um, I mean, um, well, you can't just leave this type of stuff laying around on the side of the garage until trash day, so, I mean, um, here, take these two hundo's and slip them into Mrs. Dawson's cleavage if you get the chance and um, I mean, I'll properly dispose of these, well, items, so."

Oh, I want to say "ewe", but to each his own, right? And I suppose that with proper cleaning, oh, I'm sorry, but I'm back to "ewe" although, ugh, it was all too butch for me, so. All of which left my mind the moment I bit the bullet and gently shoved the two hundo's, LOL, into her hand! I might only be 23, but I'm still old fashioned enough that my first move wasn't going to be shoving paper into her cleavage, so.

"Really? LOL, 42 years old braless boobs still work that way then, Freddy?"

"LOL, from bloom and forever more, Mrs. Dawson. So, are you ready for the last step of the day then?"

Yep, my plans are like that bunny, they just keep going and going.

"Really? I'm 42 years old and I'm worn out from just watching you sort, stack and drag, so go easy on me then, Freddy."

"Oh, plan E is the easy part, Mrs. Dawson, but we need to do it while we have the heat of the day so things dry out, so."

"Freddy, are we both mature enough to admit that there is a little bit of heat between us right now?"

"Oh, that is quite fair to say, Mrs. Dawson, but the warmth of the day is important for plan E, so grab your garden hose and start squirting the garage floor clean of dirt and dust."

"Hmm, is there a plan that says I can grab your garden hose without embarrassment or regret, Freddy?"

"Well, since you just started doing that and since your SUV is still in driveway providing us with cover, I mean, just where my hose squirt then, Mrs. Dawson?"

"Oh, maybe half in my mouth and a few squirts between my boobs, which I leave as your trophy for as long as it takes to wash out the garage before I shower, so?"

Well, LOL, she said she was tired, so she pulled one of her red lid plastic containers towards the center of the garage and sat on it, which put her at the perfect height to give me garden hose quite a work out. And all I can say from there is that I really hadn't had all that great of sex before that moment. I mean, 42 years old women know some stuff, right? There were hands and lips and an occasional dip into her cleavage and more hands and a lot of lips and her head movements seemed almost impossible, but she knew what she was doing and I took it all in. LOL, well, Mrs. Dawson took it all in, but I was there too!

And I think I held out for a while. And I know I left a huge mess!

"Oh, wow, I've forgotten about young balls, I guess, LOL. That was a lot more than I've been used too as the years have gone by, so, great job, champ!"

Yeah, no, I was sexually spent, so I didn't have a lot to say other than how great that was, which she appreciated. She also very much appreciated how I let her off of the "trophy" hook thing, meaning we both agreed that an immediate shower was the best thing for her. I mean, LOL, young balls, right? They are a lot like fire hoses.

"[Mwah] we're even, Freddy and by that, I mean, well, I wish we could get in between each other's legs, but that might be a little much for me right now, so?"

"[Mwah] go shower, Mrs. Dawson and get all soaped up and I'll finish spraying out the garage and leave you in peace then, but that was amazing, so?"

"Showering together is dangerous, Freddy."

"Yep, but drying each other off isn't, so?"

"But that sounds a lot like getting in between each other's legs and all, Freddy, so?"

Now, even at 23, I knew when to quit and that decision had nothing to do with the fact that I had never had sex twice in one day and I wasn't positive that I could perform, but that little secret helped me know when to quit, so I did and finished spraying out the garage and even took care to not hose down her side of the garage where her red lid plastic containers were terribly stacked.

[Ping]

"Ugh, did you want to dry me off, Freddy?"

Oh, a question that did not need to be asked twice and a text that didn't need a response, right? But a task that wasn't as easy as it sounds when you've only dried off yourself with a towel, but a task I took to heart.

"Fuck! I want you to fuck me, Freddy, but don't fuck me, alright? Oh, oh, dry me right there just a little more then, oh, ooh, Freddy."

LOL, there's nothing like mixed messages, right? Do me, but don't do me, right?

"Oh snap, I'm going to need another shower after this! OMG, OMG, suckle me Freddy, dry my boobs by getting them wet with your mouth then, Freddy, OMG, oh, ooh, oh."

Well, some mixed messages are alright then, right? Dry me by sucking on me with your mouth, right?

Also, enter stage left, the workings of the male brain, LOL.

"I mean, Mrs. Dawson, if you bend over and grip your clothes dresser, I mean, then we won't be all intertwined in each other's legs, so?"

"LOL, man logic, Freddy?"

I mean, LOL, man logic won out anyways and that was just as amazing as her mouth and hand action from earlier and not to toot my own horn, but I performed better than I thought I would. And really lasted for a long time (I think), so people should have sex twice in a row like all the time! LOL, although most folks probably already knew that.

LOL and then I was totally spent and went back across the street and napped it off, but with a smile and a dream of what might happen next. LOL, not that I would venture down to Mr. Larkin's house during the yard sale weekend just in case he wanted to tell me how he cleaned that leather body harness, which was just a collection of tiny leather straps with a pouch, I mean, ewe, right?

End Mrs. Dawson 01