Mariel Archer stared out the front window of her attractive two-story home as her husband, William (not "Bill", too informal) slowly walked down the manicured sidewalk to his car.
He was 65 years old now and really didn't need to work any longer (house was paid for, kids all off on their own) but he didn't believe a person should take up space on the planet without working to pay for the privilege. That was William.
Mariel gave a half-hearted wave as he backed out of the driveway, and she ran her hands along the sides of her ankle-length skirt as she often did when she was nervous. She didn't know why she felt this way, but there it was.
William was a good man and she loved him. They had been married, lord, how long? It would be 40 years in a couple of months. 40 years. She refused to spend any more time wondering where the time went. She did that often enough. Instead, she just sighed. She'd been sighing a lot lately.
There was a simmering fire in Mariel, although the casual observer wouldn't notice it. She was just a 62-year old mother and grandmother who hadn't worked outside the home since she married William. She was a good housekeeper and mother, good-tempered and usually good-natured too. She liked to garden. She volunteered at the church on cleaning day and sang in the choir, made casseroles for the sick or dying and entertained neighbors from time to time. Nothing unusual for a Midwest wife.
But that fire . . . well, it worried her some. And it titillated her at the same time. She recognized this fact and she sometimes stoked that little naughty flame – and that titillated her even more.
Oh, she didn't do anything about it. She just, well, thought about . . . things. Sexual things.
She was thinking about them now and was surprised and a little amused to see her left hand had settled on her ample belly and was drifting toward her womanhood. She pulled it away quickly and ran her hands along the side of her skirt again. She stood in front of the mirror, primped a little, then tightened the belt around her waist and looked out on the neighborhood this warm summer morning to see if he was there yet.
David Strawhorn had just rolled out of bed. Home from college for the summer, the 20-year old young man was just over 6-feet tall and carried a pleasant muscle tone, the result of doing yard work to make some money for school.
He threw on some shorts, a t-shirt and old running shoes then headed out the door after grabbing a glass of juice and a piece of toast from his mother. He wasn't much for breakfast.
He had a job with the Silver family that should take all morning and he was in a hurry to get started before the heat of midday kicked in. He grabbed the hedge clippers, the lawn mower and the edger before starting off down the street. It was going to be another great day and he smiled. Life was good.
Mariel looked at herself in the mirror a little more closely. She was doing that more and more often these days.
Her hair was silver and brown but she was carefully coiffed thanks to regular visits to her beautician. She noted her broad shoulders which people used to say made her look like Linda Evans on the old Dynasty program on television. She was amply endowed, always had been, although she didn't "advertise", as William would put it. Instead, she wore blousy tops that didn't say much about the package underneath.
She was pleased to note she still had a waist even though her belly was full and, well, matronly. Wide hips. Big rear end. Her legs, she noticed as she lifted her skirt, were not unattractive although they were a little heavier than she would have liked.
There was a clattering sound outside. Mariel dropped her skirt, ran her hands along the fabric again and stepped briskly to the window.
She was surprised to discover her heart was pounding.
David saw Mariel before she saw him. He was looking for her but he turned his gaze away from the window before she saw him looking up.
He stopped and leaned against an old oak in clear view of Mariel's window, then he pulled off his t-shirt and jammed it into the back of his shorts. This was the ritual he had been performing for the last 2 weeks and every time, Mariel was there to watch it.
The first time had been innocent enough. He caught a movement in the window and quickly looked up and saw Mariel moving away from the window. The first time, he smiled. Then he saw her the next day. And the next. And the next.
He never looked up at her, but he knew she was there. It was clear she enjoyed watching him and with every performance David found, to his surprise, that he was more and more aroused by the exercise. He would rest there for about five minutes or so, stretching, yawning and increasingly, pulling at his crotch as his cock would begin expanding somewhat uncomfortably inside his tight shorts.
Then he would push his yard equipment down the street and fantasize about the fat old woman who had been watching him. What did he know about her?
He knew Mariel was a housewife who did all her own lawn work, including the mowing. He knew she had a good reputation and that she did a lot of volunteer work. He didn't know much else though.
A few days ago David was raking the Caterelli's lawn when he heard a lawnmower running at Mariel's house and he decided to take a look at Mariel at work.
She was wearing a modest pair of shorts that nevertheless pulled tight over her large but curvaceous ass and a large tee that was tucked into the shorts. She didn't see David watching her but once when she leaned over to move a stick off the lawn, he could see up the shirt to a pair of huge bra-covered tits dangling deliciously from her chest.
Despite himself, David gulped audibly and his erection grew in an instant. He calmed himself, waited until the boner had retreated somewhat, then walked over to Mariel just as she turned off the lawn mower.
He smiled broadly at her. "Good morning, Mrs. Archer," he said. "The lawn looks great."
Mariel was more than startled. She was almost in shock. There was David Strawhorn, shirtless, smiling and, yes, she admitted it, gorgeous, looking right at her. What was he doing here?
When she looked around the yard to see if anyone else had seen them, David knew what thoughts were bouncing around inside her matronly, housewife-ly little head and he was more than pleased.
"You know, I can do that work for you," he said, walking toward her boldly. She looked around uncomfortably again. He smiled broadly. "If all the other ladies in the neighborhood are as energetic as you are, I'll be out of work."
"Oh, well, . . ." Mariel stammered. "I just always liked doing it myself . . . ."
David laughed. "I'm just playing with you," he said. He consciously made the decision to say 'playing with you' to note her reaction. As expected, she blushed and he laughed again.
"Here," he said. "Let me push that back to the shed for you. No charge."
David touched her hand as he grabbed the mower and she pulled it away in an instant as though it were a hot poker. "Thank you," she said.
