Landscaping Adventure

I gasped for breath as the final wave of my eruption passed through me. Susan was still writhing on top of me, almost purring, as she gently humped her crotch against my semi-erect dick. I could feel our fuck juices beginning to trickle down the crack of my ass, and I wriggled inside of her – it tickled.

She stopped moving and just collapsed. I still find the fragrance of her hair almost intoxicating. I reached up and grabbed a handful, pulled her head back and stared into her eyes. I slowly relaxed my grip, and we kissed– seemed like for a year – we just get kinda' lost when it's really awesome and we come together.

It's become a near-ritual. We both work our asses off all week, come home exhausted on Friday night, and just crash. We wake up Saturday (usually Sunday, too), have a cup or two of dark roast coffee, then proceed to fuck each other cross-eyed. For the last month, she'd been working in her company's Tallahassee office, staking her claim in the spare bedroom of the condo we kept for our daughter Katie while she was still in school. I'd been living the solo weekday life at our home in Mobile, so our weekends together were especially valuable these days.

She sat up, my almost flaccid dick still wedged in the sopping folds of her pussy, got a wicked grin on her face. "Want to know what I fantasize about when we're fucking?" I couldn't answer.

"No," she said as her eyes looked away. "If I told you what it was, I'm afraid you might want to try it."

I haven't been able to get that thought out of my head since the moment it left her lips. I'm over here with my mind running through 1,001 fantasy scenarios, walking around with a perpetual hard-on, wondering what the fuck is going on.

I dredged through all the memories of stories we'd read to each other, stories we'd made up for each other, movies we'd watched together, and even the recollections of previous encounters with former spouses and assorted partners. There was a lot of material there, and I really wanted to enjoy my little game before I asked her to clue me in.

It was easy to eliminate any of the stories that included our former spouses - material that wouldn't even arouse teenage virgin Boy Scouts. Ditto for most of our "other" encounters. There were a couple that held some promise.

One of those "fantasy experiences" was an encounter I had with a former neighbor, Allyson. My ex and I lived next door to Allyson and Ron outside of town in a pretty isolated area. At one point, while I was working on my MBA, my class schedule provided free days during the week. I would take advantage of these days to get some yard work and repairs done around the house.

Mid-July in the South is an experience. You actually learn to enjoy sweating – not perspiring, but really sweating – like Ashley Judd in the movie A Time To Kill, the sweatiest film ever made. While cutting the grass, I noticed Allyson walking around her yard with a towel. She proceeded to spread the towel on the grass, and remove her shirt and shorts.

To describe her outfit as a bikini would not have done justice. Now Allyson is a leggy blonde, with one of "those" figures; firm, ripe breasts that looked like they'd be the perfect hand-holds while you plugged her from behind.

She lay on her stomach facing away from me, so my view was right up the crack. Not much was covered by the little string that was her bikini bottom. Her ass glistened with sweat, and it looked like she had oiled up just before coming out.

I continued to cut the grass. She MUST know I was looking – the roar of the lawnmower could not be ignored. Gotta' confess – the erection was making it tough to push the mower. Almost like she knew the time was right, she reached behind her back and slipped the knot on the string that held her top in place. Not that it was covering much. I realized I had almost stopped pushing the mower, and was watching her through a gap in the hedges that separated our back yards.

My almost naked neighbor, glistening in the blazing Southern sun, and me – just standing there almost struck dumb, grabbing my dick through my sweat-soaked shorts. When I tell this story to Susan, she gets pretty hot. The image of Allyson stretched out on the towel, her blond hair matted into sweaty strings on her face and neck, bare flesh roasting under the intense Southern sun, her tanned skin glistening with the mixture of oil and sweat, taut cheeks barely jiggling as she moved her toes. I was so close I could actually see the drops of sweat running down her ribs and the side of her breast - pooling in the small of her back like an oasis, calling to me.

As I pulled my dick out of my shorts, Allyson made a move to get up. She rose to her hands and knees, tits hanging free. She shook her head to scatter the sweat that was dripping into her eyes – her tits jiggled with the movement. She rose to her knees and stretched, arms reaching for the sun, like she was looking for a switch to lower the flow of light and heat into her body. At this point I really didn't care if she saw me. I just stood there, dick in hand, watching the show. She returned to the prone position, propped up on her elbows, wiping her face with the sweat-soaked towel.

It's at the point in the story where Allyson turns over on her back that Susan really gets excited, and her hips begin to thrust against my leg, arm, dick, face – whatever happens to be there for resistance. Like I did that day – thrusting my dick into my clenched fist.

I knew she saw me when she sat up and looked around, but she made no move to cover herself. Quite the opposite – she grabbed the Coppertone and squeezed a liberal stream across the tops of her tits. The oil flowed down and dripped from her nipples – they were very erect by now. Allyson began to spread the oil across her chest, stomach and arms, her massage always returning to the erect nipples that seemed too slippery for her to pinch. Her futile efforts to grab the nipples caused her to abandon them. Her hands moved down her stomach to the crotch of her bikini; a strip of material barely an inch wide. Almost like a strip of ribbon descending from the waist string into the cleft of her hairless pussy.

She massaged the mixture of oil and sweat through the ribbon into her crotch, then, annoyed by the ribbon, she reached for the strings, untied both sides, and lifted her ass just enough to pull the bottoms off completely. Now she was exposed; not completely bald, but the thinnest strip of light hair above her clit and glistening lips. Her hand blocked my view as she began to passionately rub her pussy and finger-fuck herself. This was too much for me to stand.

I stripped off my shorts and pushed through the hedges – as I emerged she looked me straight in the eye and smiled. I walked over to her, my dick felt swollen and hard in my clenched fist. As I approached her feet she held up her hand – not the one buried in her crotch; that one never missed a beat.

"Stop!" Her voice was a throaty whisper, dulled by her arousal. "Watch this!"

She pulled her knees up to her chest, then, through three wiggles, had both calves behind her shoulders, the bare soles of her feet framing her face. The resulting display of Allyson's crotch was stunning. The mixture of her juices soaked with sweat and oil reflected the sun like a mirror and dripped down her ass crack, the butthole seeming to wink in the summer sun.

"Shoot your load on me while I finger fuck myself," she instructed. At this point, she could have told me to go fuck myself, and I would have figured out how to do it.

I reached down and cupped my hand under her ass, and, as I rubbed my palm up her crotch, gathered the lubricants I needed. As she began to finger her pussy, again, I began to stroke. Allyson brought the other hand to her crotch, popping her middle finger into her asshole. I could tell she'd done this before. We fell into a synchronized rhythm like our strokes had been choreographed and well-rehearsed.

As she was really beginning to shake, I exploded onto her chest and stomach. She locked eyes with me and groaned. I watched as her eyes rolled back and she froze – her hands stopping with three fingers buried in her pussy and two in her asshole.

By this time, as I'm telling Susan of the encounter, we're fucking madly, with her gasping, "I would have fucked her. You should have fucked her. I would have fucked her. I would have fucked her in the ass."