Just Hanging Out

It was a sweltering hot Saturday afternoon in July, and I had finished doing the yard work. Some of the lawn tools needed basic maintenance—nylon string for the weed whacker, oil on the grass and shrub sheers, a new blade for the edger—so I'd been back and forth from the basement where all the related stuff was stored. I had one final chore, sharpening the mower blade, before downing a few ice-cold beers and getting cleaned up.

So, I'd taken the mower to the back part of the driveway and propped it up on bricko blocks to get at the blade when I saw this never-been-at-all-friendly neighbor gal, Patty, walking her enormous German Shepherd down the sidewalk.

She's a good-looking, short, dark-complexioned brunet in her early-to-mid-30s who walks like she's got ben-wah balls in her pussy and moves her lips in a way that suggests she gives great head.

The thing is, that canine is so large and aggressive that it keeps practically ALL forms of life at a distance.

Even if you have the courage to disregard the dog, she's always been the type who won't speak or even look your way unless you say something first, and even then, she snaps a pithy "Oh, hi," and acts like you've somehow intruded.

Nevertheless, I watched her sashay her sexy little self past the end of my driveway as I squatted down on the sizzling concrete waiting for the Liquid Wrench to take effect on the stuck blade bolt. I'm sure I was smiling simply from the pleasure of looking at her, but I didn't even bother to wave, much less say "hello," given her prior responses to me.

Then the dog, which appeared to be looking right at me and was tugging hard at the leash, "got away," though it didn't exactly seem like an accident. Now I'd be lying if I told you I was not afraid of a 150-lb. police dog charging straight for me, but she called him to a halt just before I made a mad dash for the nearby back door.

Patty ran up my drive, got the leash back in her hand, and walked on up with the dog to me, apologizing and being extraordinarily friendly and conversational. She sure looked like Patty, but this was a whole new--and greatly improved--persona.

Now if I ever looked worse, I don't remember when it was. I mean, it was 95 degrees, and I was hot and sweaty with dirt literally caked on me, along with thousands of bits and pieces of grass and shrub clippings, and smudges of grease from the power tools.

She was just smiling so big, chatting it up and quite obviously enjoying herself. So very, very different, in a very, very good way. Now men like me who are horny 99.9% of the time have to be careful about not over-interpreting women's intentions when they may simply be no more than friendly, but I was getting extremely strong signals she had other things on her mind.

As she gestured, she kept touching herself a lot, including her breasts. They were not big--B-cups I'd say--but had a really nice swoop to them, and terminated in tiny dark nipples situated just north of center. Being that she was obviously bra-less with dark skin, and was wearing a thin, white, spaghetti-strap top, I could see those nice boobs pretty well, assisted by the moisture of her perspiration in the blazing sun.

Shortly, she sat down in the shade on the back steps, only about 6 or 7 feet from me, still squatting by the mower. She was wearing short-short cut-off jeans, and being that she sat on the first, short step up from the driveway, it made her knees buckle up and out.

This put her crotch in my direct sight line, and I could see that there was at most about 1 inch of denim covering her pussy. I tried to not be obvious about staring, but I was staring nonetheless. Telling an excruciatingly detailed story about her dog recently being mated with another in heat, she gradually opened her legs wider, revealing an ever increasing proportion of outer labia, hairless and bulging hard against the edges of the denim.

She even touched herself, albeit very quickly, several times there.

Now I became aware of my own sexual organ, blood filling it fast, and it felt, well, particularly "present." So, I glanced down only to discover that it was hanging out, now half-hard, along with my balls, in complete view!

I was wearing some old, and I mean OLD, nylon running shorts, the kind with the built-in inner liner, which had long ago lost its elasticity, no shirt, and filthy socks and yard shoes.

I had not moved since I first saw Patty and the dog out at the sidewalk, and I only then realized that Patty had seen my cock hanging out from the get-go, and that had to be what had brought her back to me in the first place and caused her to be oh-so-friendly. Geez, I thought to myself, had I known a genital display would get this reaction, I would have done it on purpose a long time ago!

She had on dark, wrap-around sunglasses, so I could not see what her eyes were looking at, but from the way her head was pointed, and all the sexy little things she'd said and done already, I judged it reasonably certain she'd like me to just let it hang (though with increasing rigidity, it was "hanging" less and less). She might even have something more than looking in mind.

The next thing she did left little doubt.

The giant shepherd was panting, and Patty asked if she could get him some water, and I said, "Sure," so she got a bowl I used to soak wood chips for the grill in and used the hose to fill it up.

She said, "I'm really hot," and I said, with a wicked grin, "I'll say," and I guess that's all the encouragement she needed, for she proceeded to hold the hose right over her head and let the cool water soak her--almost fully revealing her nice ta-tas and bringing those scrumptious little dark nips up to even harder points. Wow, what a sexy babe!

Then she grinned and cackled, and turned the hose on me full force, which led to a bit of a tussle that "accidentally" involved my hands or her tits and ass. I suppose that gave her the full-steam ahead, for she reciprocated by pressing herself against me with one hand on my butt and the other firmly wrapped around my stiff cock.

Now, what I did not mention earlier, and is of particular relevance, is that my mother and I live together. Yes, you read correctly. I am an only child, my father is deceased, she is elderly and very ill, and there is simply no one else to care for her. It just makes sense for us to reside in the same home. If there's a woman I want to have sex with, well, it's a her-place type of thing.

But even though Patty lives only a block away, with her hand on my stiff cock, I figured it was time to act, like RIGHT THEN.

So, with the entrance to the basement just inside the back door across the kitchen, I figured we could go down there. Looking down the steps, I asked her, with intentional double entendre,"Would you like to go down?" Removing the sunglasses and taking a studied stare at my crotch, she licked her lips, sucked the shades' ear piece, and said, "Sounds good to me!" She got her dog some more water and tied him to the back step handrail in the shade, then ascended the steps and took my extended hand.

So, down the steps we went, closing the door behind us, to the basement. If my mother did hear something down there, she wouldn't think twice about it, as I had been down there several times earlier retrieving tools for the yard work.

Now this is not a finished basement with a bed and all the accoutrements of home; it's a dreadfully damp dungeon where all kinds of stuff is stored. When I got to the bottom, I turned around to kiss Patty, still a step up, but at that moment, she was pulling the scant, wet top over her head, revealing magnificent little boobs and a tan-all-over torso. Gee, I hate it when than happens!

Then we locked lips, and my being so much taller than she, she was dead even with my face. How convenient. Man, could she kiss good—firm and active with probing tongue and zestfully nibbling my lips while squeezing my buns with one hand and stroking my cock with the other.

Shortly, she kissed her way south, peeled off those wet old running shorts, and gobbled Mr. Johnson into her mouth. I rather liked her forwardness, to put it mildly!

So Patty is sitting on the stairs sucking me so fine as I stand there just below the ground-level window and notice that the lawn service crew is now tending the next-door country club grounds, which start where the side edge of my driveway ends. The little Mexican guy goes by on the riding mower, sees me (but I didn't think Patty), and nods, smiling. I smile back and wave, chuckling out loud at the comic contrast of the situation: they work so hard up there while I play so easy down here.

Anyway, back to Patty's BJ. She was really going at it full tilt boogie—using both twisting hands to full effect, licking and nibbling every square millimeter of my shaft and scrotum, slurping loudly, making a champagne-cork-like "pop" every time she'd pull her high-suction mouth off the end of my never-been-harder rod, and just generally enjoying herself. I was generally enjoying it, too!

I got the distinct impression she had not done this in a really long time, and, given her usual off-putting demeanor, it was no wonder. Of course, I was happy for her to make up for lost time on me!

Well, I couldn't keep my hands off those boobs for long, so I went to work on them, which, if it were at all possible, made her give head even more vigorously. As I said before, they were not at all big tits, but they were really nice B-cuppers with a perfect down, out, and then up to the nips shape. They were extraordinarily soft and pliable, with very hard, very dark nipples pointed slightly upwards.

I was twiddling them quite firmly, and she liked that treatment, goading me on to pinch and pull on them even harder. I wanted to suck and bite them, get a whole tit in my mouth, but, of course, that would mean breaking off the superb blow-job. Decisions, decisions!

As I pondered this, the lawn guy came by again, only this time very slowly with his partner riding shotgun on the mower. They had very big, fun-loving smiles on their faces. I momentarily found myself stereotyping them as Tequila-happy Hispanics when I followed a bar of sunshine through the window and realized they could, in fact, see Patty's head slurping shlong.

Now this added to the excitement for two reasons: First, they're having a jolly old time voyeuring a good-looking gal giving head. Second—and this is the real kicker—Patty is the country club's second-in-command, so THEY KNEW EXACTLY WHO SHE WAS—THEIR BOSS!!!

Naturally, I decided to have a little fun with this.

I pulled Patty up to a standing position and down a step to the basement floor, sideways to the window above, and started chewing on those tits. They were, well, tasty! From the way they were shaped, I could get an entire boob in my mouth and suck it deep into my throat, then do the other one, then push them together and suck on both nipples at the same time. Patty's tits were great, underlining what I already knew—bigger is not necessarily better.

In a minute or so, the yard crew comes around again, this time all three of the little fellows, and—smartly--with no noisy power tools in tow to attract attention. Standing on their tip-toes at the very edge of my drive (Did they think INS agents would nab them if they crossed the "border?"), they could now see her whole upper body, and from the looks on their faces, they were certainly enjoying the view. Since I had her sideways to them, and she was looking down anyway at my oral work on her tits, she never even noticed them.

With my boob work getting her hornier than ever, she slipped her thumbs inside the waistband of the soaking-wet cut-offs and wriggled them off her hips, dropping them to her ankles.

Woe!!! Not only was she panty-less, she had a totally bare pussy so smooth that it must have been shaved only an hour ago, and her mons, like my cock, was so filled with lusty blood that it was pooched out over a pussy that could not have made its desires more clear had it opened its lips and screamed, "Lick me, suck me, fuck me now."

Wanna know what I did next?

Well, I assume you do, and I'm anxious to tell you, but first allow me to describe Patty's amazing pussy.

It was a "front-loader." I came up with that term many years ago when I was seeing this gal April, the only other chick I've ever experienced with this kind of pussy. You see, a front-loader is one that is located not in the normal location between the legs, but rather farther up, on the front of her crotch, so that, facing her flat-footed, you can easily slip your cock right into her with her only slightly parting her upper thighs. You can load her from the front. Ergo, a front-loader

And Patty had such a wide expanse of dark, mucous membrane surrounding extra-thick outer labia, with inner labia even pooching out into sight, that, coupled with her diminutive frame, she appeared to be all pussy. And as I mentioned, it was shaved completely smooth, and now glistening wet. It was truly a take-your-breath-away, goddamlookatthatsombitch sight!

But enough about appearance. It was time to check out what it FELT like.

But I had a dilemma: I wanted to both pleasure her and myself while continuing the show for the Latinos. So, if I ate or fucked her from the front—the obviously natural thing to do given her front-loader configuration—then in order for the yard men to see, she would be facing the window and certainly spot them. I am not such a dedicated showman that I'd risk losing this fine piece of ass soley for their benefit!

Fingering her love canyon, I scanned the basement. Aha! The wooden saw horse—a perfect bend-her-over-it accessory I quickly dragged over for maximum licking/fucking/look-at-this-fellows! placement. I'd stapled carpet to the top rung to prevent scratches for a recent carpentry project, so bending her over at the waist over it, I knew Patty didn't have to worry about splinters in her belly. "Oooh, I think I'm really going to like this!" she said as I watched the odd look of her facial lips speaking upside down, her dark, wet hair dangling on the concrete floor.

The saw horse could not have been at a better height had I specifically cut it for this very purpose, as she could just keep her feet on the floor while comfortably resting her hips on the carpet-padded 2 X 4. Also, this afforded me (and my "guests') not only terrific access to her mega-cunt, but also to her tits, which gravity was pulling down towards her shoulders in a peculiarly captivating form.

And so I began lapping at that gorgeous, giant, gushing gash. Oh my, was this ever good pussy! So tasty, so wet! I pulled those big lips through mine like a kid eating his first spaghetti dinner and gnashed them through my teeth like a slice of prime rare filet. Patty loved it and was quite vocal though thankfully not too loud with frequent, "That's it, bite me, chew those lips, oooh yeah!" and "Suck that clit real hard like a crab leg!" I especially liked that one; she must be a seafood lover. "Perhaps a bit of 'COCKtail sauce,' Patty?" I offered.

She had a big orgasm, and although I could have had oral fun on her pussy for hours, my knees were getting numb on the concrete floor, so I stood up and slid my raging hard rod back and forth through her oversize labia, using my hand to slap it forcefully on her swollen, pulsing pleasure knob. "Stick that tool in me and screw me!" she pleaded. I gave her only three, slow, all-the-way-in and all-the-way-out strokes, and then twiddled her clit while deciding what to do next.

With my back to them and busy with Patty, I'd momentarily forgotten about our "audience," until I looked over my shoulder to see that they had finally crossed over the drive and had their grinning faces pressed up against the window. They were fortunately silent, only they were giving me vigorous thumbs-up signs and some other gestures that I could not make sense of—at first.

As long as I fiddled with Patty's twat, she was happy, so that's just what I did while gradually interpreting what my new south-of-the-border friends were trying to convey. They could see not only Patty, but also a lot of the stuff in the basement, and were pointing and then trying to make hand-signs of what they were referring to. I finally got it: They were suggesting various hardware implements to use on Patty's pussy! Hilarious!!! I liked these guys, and I'd never even spoken with them!

The top drawer of my tool chest was open where I'd gotten the file for the mower blade, so, as suggested, I picked up the big flat head screwdriver by the business end and inserted the thick plastic handle in her love hole. "Patty, you just said you wanted a 'tool' stuck in you and to be 'screwed, so how'd you like this screwdriver?" "I like it! I like it! I like it!" she repeated, so I jacked it back and forth in her love hole as I twirled the ribbed handle around and around.

Before that got old, I took the advice of the littlest Mexican, and tried out the speed wrench, affixing ever larger deep-well sockets (both standard and metric, for that special international flair, don't you know), making sure she got the full effect of the repetitive clicking as I turned each one inside her. She really loved that vibration and even seemed to like that the sockets were bracingly cool when they first went in, and, of course, that each successive one was a bit bigger.

I really wanted to keep increasing the socket size, but I keep the really large sockets in the bottom of another tool box too far away to reach, so I dipped my own tool back in her and slowly fucked her a bit more, she ooing and aahing as I craned my neck back to see what the Tres Chicanos had in mind next.

It took me several minutes to discern their next idea, as they themselves, already silently laughing at it to the point of holding their sides, were having trouble communicating it to me. Then the pock-faced guy turned and pointed his ass (clothed, of course) toward me and began miming with his arms something to and from his butt while the fat enchilada kept pointing over at the shelf with all the plumbing tools.

I realized he was pointing at the "plumber's friend," the wooden-handled things with the red rubber cup used to unclog toilets. At first, I thought they meant put the handle in her pussy. Not a bad idea, but not particularly inventive, and rather slim for Patty's pussy. Then it hit me: Suction-cup the rubber end to her bun! And there were two brand new ones just alike (Buy one, get one free deal). I would suction one to EACH butt cheek!!!

Now the mere mental picture of that already had me in stitches, so I withdrew Mr. Johnson from Ms. Pattypuss to go get them. Returning with one in each hand, she said, "Just what the hell do you intend to do with those?" "You'll see. Now bend back over." I instructed, unable to suppress my giggles.

Heretofore, I have not described Patty's bottom, but let me say it was not exactly small. In other words, plenty of room for plungers. It was nevertheless one very fine, cute ass, almost perfectly round and meaty. But not nearly as cute as when I stuck those toilet plungers smack dab in the middle of each bun! Her butt skin was damp from the high humidity down there and all the sex action, and that ensured the plungers stayed put. In fact, I discovered that the plungers were stuck so well to her buns that I could grasp their wooden handles to not only pry her butt cheeks way apart to expose her ass and pussy, but also to push and pull them in other directions to make odd shapes.

Then, I slipped my cock back ball-deep in her pussy, banged her hard, and stuck a nearby swiveling 3/8- to 1/2-inch drive adaptor, still greasy from the last time I'd used it, in her butt for good measure.

Now just picture this: I've got a foxy-looking, snooty country club manager naked in my basement bent over a homemade sawhorse, and I'm shagging her huge pussy doggie with a chrome tool in her ass while toilet plungers wildly wobble on both her buns as three of her guffawing employees—complete strangers to me—watch through the window.