Author's Foreword: I have a thing for big-titted blonde MILF bimbos, so I just started writing this as a simple stroker story. Then I realized I couldn't get all the fun stuff I had in my head in this one scene, so it's now become my first attempt at an open-ended setup story to allow for unlimited future episodes. The next three parts are already plotted out, but I'd love to hear your ideas or desires on where this should go. Let me know by comment or DM if you have an idea, situation, or fantasy to explore in a future episode.
I realize, too, that this story hasn't allowed for much depth of character, but future stories will show more of who these two are and what motivates them. As much as I try to leave all this emotional shit out, I just can't help it. But I will say right now, that the focus is on fucking and fantasies and all the stuff you're here on Literotica for -- make no mistake about that!
If you like this one, be sure to favorite me, so you'll get a notification when the next part is published. As usual, I request your feedback and general remarks -- good or bad -- in the comments section.
Jalgis once again gets my thanks for another excellent job of editing -- lots of effort went into shaping, suggesting, and correcting to get this ready for publishing.
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Damn.
After what was probably my thirtieth yank on the pull starter, I finally gave up on the likelihood that my old, worn-out two-stroke lawn mower was going to turn over without additional help. This old junker had been getting harder and harder to start over the last few weeks, but it looked like it was time to pull it back into the garage for some troubleshooting.
With practiced ease, I cleaned the air filter and replaced the spark plug. When this didn't get the mower working, I checked the functions of the carburetor and ignition coil. After an hour and a half, I wasn't any closer to getting it to run and I just lost my shit.
Fuck it! I'm not going to do another thing to keep this hunk of shit running.
I knew that it might just need a new set of rings but I'd already wasted hundreds of hours to keep this mower working and I resolved then and there that I wasn't going to waste any more time patching this thing up.
I wheeled it to the curb and left it there to rot for the two days until the garbage truck came.
With most of the morning gone, I went inside and grabbed a bottle of water before sitting down at the computer. I pulled up Facebook Marketplace and searched for a nice mower. If I was going to buy something new, I was going to get something that would make my weekly yard work faster and easier.
I searched for "honda self-propelled mower" as a first try because I have always liked their engines. I searched for the lowest price and saw the picture of a brand new mower with a 21" deck for $50. The description said, "Brand New, Never Used" and looked to be close enough that I could get it quickly if it was still available. It certainly seemed too good to be true. I messaged "Nikki Davenport" to see if it was still available.
I went back to the search results to find another option in the likely event that this one wasn't going to work out. I checked a few more of the cheaper options but they looked as ratty as my ex-lawn mowing implement. The rest were all in the $300 range so I was about to pull up the Home Depot page and just go get a new one when I heard the ding of response.
Her: "Yes, it's available."
Her: "I just listed it about 10 minutes ago and already have a dozen responses."
Her: "But you were first so it's yours if you can come in the next 30 minutes."
Me: "I definitely want it. My old mower just died."
Me: "Would love to get it now, so I can still get the yard done this afternoon."
After a long pause, I saw the "..." of her typing. I waited, half-expecting a change of heart.
Her: "9802 Forest Meadow Lane"
Her: "Get here as soon as you can because I have something I want to do this afternoon, too."
Her: "I'm out by the pool. Just park in the driveway and come around the side when you get here."
I responded immediately.
Me: "Ok, I'm on my way now."
Before I got up to leave, I checked her profile so I'd know how to recognize her.
DAMN!
She was super hot. She was mid-forties or so with straight platinum blonde hair, a broad and inviting smile with perfect teeth, a lean and tanned runner's body, and a huge and gravity-defying rack that a few dozen bikini pics documented extensively. And...divorced. I re-read the message string. For a split second, my mind read this as her on the prowl and then, just as quickly, I dismissed it as wishful thinking on my part.
I grabbed a CLIF bar on the way out as my lunch so I could get this mower before it was gone.