Well, so here was another fine Saturday to be spent all by myself alone. Waking up today, I know there are things I have to do, so I slip out of bed and head to the kitchen, scratching my balls and I search for my duty list left on the counter by Della, my wife of 28 years. If I don't get these things done, I will pay for it later. Della and her mother are off on their weekly antique hunt/garage sale quest. They like the bargains. They watch way too much of those shows on TV. Like they are gonna score anything. Della likes the food they sample at those places, or any place really. Guess that helped her get in the shape she's in. Round, that's a shape; right? At least she takes that mother of hers with her. I've been fighting her mother's criticisms of my accomplishments ever since we were married. Just can't please either one of them. Me, I'm 49, your average accountant, married to one of those garage sale-aholics of a wife.
Drinking my coffee, I peruse the list of things to do. Mow and trim, check. Clean gutters, check. Arrange the storage shed, check. Fuck you. On second thought, I'd better do them or else I'll never hear the end of it. You don't know my wife. 5-1 in height, 180 pounds, she's built more like a tank than a skank. Thinks sex is torture and comes by it honestly. Her mother was the same I'd imagine. Pity the man she married. Pity me.
Before going out to work, I see through the window it's gonna be another scorcher today. They talk about the drought here in Dallas like it's something new. Happens all the time. It'll eventually rain and folks will have something else to bitch about. You know how that is. But it looks hot even for 9 AM.
I go in the bedroom and decide to make today amusing, so I peruse my wardrobe of fine clothes and select some old gym shorts from K-mart 10 years ago. I forego the underwear today, deciding that commando is the order of the day. Love the feeling my balls give me when I allow them free reign. Feels nasty and powerful. My cock, it's only 6 inches when totally erect, but since I'm not circumcised, if I stretch the skin over it, I can claim I got 8 and a half inches of cock to work with. But who would I get into that discussion with? Not like I'm some hunk. As I survey my gut while I slip on the shorts, I decide I need to workout some. Hell, I need to do something. At least I can still reach my cock. If it wasn't for masturbating, I would be celibate. Thankfully my imagination helps when I want some sort of outlet. I also select a rather tasteful and attractive wife beater shirt to match my ensemble. Not even gonna bother trying to stretch it down.
Retrieving the ladder from the garage, I decide to start with the gutters. As I place the ladder against the house, I have to fight my way through all of the damn rose bushes my wife had me plant over the years. All four sides of the house are full of the motherfuckers. If it was up to me, I'd use some round-up on them and be done with it. Looking up there, it sure looks high. Scratching my legs on the thorns, I go up and survey my work to be done on the gutters. Yes, they are full of weeping willow crap that has accumulated. Reaching into the stuff, I turn my head and notice I am almost even with a bedroom next door. I quickly realize it's the bedroom of Marcie, the 18 year old girl next door. She has provided me lots of fodder for masturbation over the last few years. Caught lots of views of her while we were cooking out with her parents by their pool. At least they have a pool. Sigh. Anyway, usually Marcie was wearing one of those younger age swimsuits with the material that is way too tight. I could see or imagine the camel toe and appreciate what was going on in there. She was kind of turned on by my masculine features, particularly the hair on my arms and back. Yeah, right. Anyway, thanks to my Foster Grants my wife couldn't see my eyes as I lasered in on Marcie's pussy crack for the entire afternoon. Oh, the thoughts I had and where my mind went! My erection was painful after a few hours, but well worth it later when I would masturbate. Of course, later on after we got home, my wife went on and on about how Marcie's parents ought to be ashamed of how ill-fitting the swimsuit was on Marcie and that she paraded around entirely too much, how they were gonna be sorry when she turned into some little slut if they didn't control it now. Sheesh.
Now I am on a ladder looking directly into 18 year old Marcie's room and I can see her sitting at her computer this morning. I immediately note she is wearing panties, one of those thong things that allow lots of butt flesh to show. Oh, this is nice for me. My cock alerts me to the fact that a better vantage point would be up there by the chimney. That way, we could look down into her room. As I draw in my breath, judge the distance, I fear the incline. Nevertheless, I step off the ladder onto the roof and I note the heat immediately. Damn, the shingles are sticky with tar from the heat. Me feet move like molasses as I move up to the chimney. Struggling up the incline, I arrive and take up position on the backyard side of my chimney. My view is greatly improved. I can see Marcie as she squirms in her chair while she does her thing. I can see her almost flat chest in her PJ top and the skinny legs. Oh, I remember those well. Her butt is nice and tight. As I watch her, my cock begins to remind me of its presence as well, so I undo the string holding my shorts up and they fall to my feet. I spread my legs and enjoy the air rushing across my swollen balls. My cock invites my hand to join it, and then I am slowly masturbating while watching Marcie. Knowing she could turn and see me gives me such a rush of excitement! What a pervert I am. I love it. Being on the back of the chimney I'm hidden from the street. And the trees in the back hide me as well. I should come up here more often.
Soon enough Marcie stands from her chair and goes to a dresser drawer and pulls out a bathing suit she wants to apparently wear today. As she turns, I see the flat tummy and flat chest better. Her skinny legs draw my eyes to the little cunt that lies within. My hand moves faster over my cock and I note the precum that is starting to flow. The precum and the sweat from my brow dripping onto my cock lube me up nicely. I feel so alive out here, masturbating in the open!
Marcie steps back to the edge of the bed and skinnies out of her thong as she prepares to put on the red bottom of her swimsuit. As she turns I see the pussy lips appear and then she leans over to step into the suit. My eyes note in a mirror her shaved cunt and the tight skin surrounding it. Marcie innocently drops a finger into the little cunt to test whether it's clean enough for the swimsuit. First she sniffs the finger and then tastes it. Satisfied, she sits and begins to get dressed. Unknown to her, I am almost at the peak of my roof and my approaching orgasm. As I await my orgasm's arrival, I spread my legs more and increase the speed of my masturbation, my hand flying over my throbbing cock, the precum flying and splatting on the shingles at my feet.
Deciding that I need better viewing for the final stage, I move forward a step, and suddenly my feet trip over the shorts that have dropped and tangled in my shoes. Without warning, I stumble sidewards, falling flat on my fat gut as I croak, "Oh, shit!"
Now my story turns for a twist I hadn't planned on. Landing hard on the hot shingles, I begin a fast slide toward the rear of the house, scraping my cock, balls and legs along the roof as I go. In my panic I try to imagine a way to stop my descent, but it's like slow motion to me. All I can do is freak out and see the rear edge coming up. I see the gutter edge and think I'll grab it and stiff-arm it and stop. No, I ain't no gymnast or athlete. That didn't work. I slid right up to the edge, clawed for the gutter to stop myself, and amazed myself that I did a perfect hand stand on the gutter for just an instant. It would be beautiful in slow motion replay. Unfortunately, that ain't how it happened. Immediately I went over the edge and slammed backwards against the eaves and the brick of the house and hung for a few seconds before my weak grip failed me miserably. Remember, I push a pencil for a living, not chisel stone. In my freak-out mode I cry out in panic and drop from the gutter two stories into, you guessed it, the fucking rose bushes in the back yard garden, smashing them and mangling them in all ways possible. Landing with a loud thud, the wind is knocked out of me. After several seconds I can breathe again and I am amazed that I am alive and no bones are broken. I only have lots of scrape marks, tar and shingle material all over my legs and belly and cock and ball and arms, and I've survived the rose bushes pricking my prick.
