For me, one of the joys of summer was that the clock lost all meaning. Up until four in the morning, who cares, I'll just sleep till the middle of the afternoon. And that's what I often did. I was hardly what you'd call a "pretty sleeper." I would toss and turn, and get wrapped up and turned around in my covers only to wake up laying on top of them in my tank top and boxer shorts, my long mountain of red hair spread wildly around my pillow, my ass practically sticking up. I've been told it's quite child like. I'll take it.
So, there I was on a Tuesday morning at 7:30 am, asleep in my room, when my door swings open and my mom says from the doorway, "Wake up Cathy."
I make a sound without opening my eyes that is mostly made up of the letter "n." but she is unimpressed. She tells me that if I am going to waste my summer doing basically nothing, that's fine with her, but there will still be basic household chores that I need to get done, and the lawn getting mowed is one of them.
"By the time I get home." She says.
"That's hours from now. Literal hours from now." I say, still not opening my eyes.
"If you don't do it before it gets too hot, you're going to regret it." And then she closed the door again, and left for work. My father would have gone an hour ago. It was just me.
God, I wanted to melt back into the bed and sleep for hours. But when she's right she's right, and nothing is worse than the midday sun in this fucking state. I flopped out of bed, in an intensely shitty mood. I sat on the edge of the bed for what must have been 10 minutes, just staring. Then I went over to the jeans I had worn last night and dug out my one hitter. If I was going to be up, I was going to be high, that much was a given. But wouldn't you know it, it was cashed.
Great, another thing I would have to do today, call Paul and buy some weed. Well, if this had to get done, I wasn't going to put much effort into getting ready, my tank top was staying on, but I couldn't very well mow the lawn in boxer shorts, so after a quick trip to the bathroom, I went into my dresser and pulled out a pair of gym shorts, swapping them out for the boxers. They fit snugly over my firm, pale white ass. My hair might have been a mess straight out of bed, a red tangle of a mop, but my body always looked perfect, I was 5'8", 130lbs, 34-26-36. My ass was a national treasure, and I enjoyed having it as much as the fellas enjoyed staring at it. I pulled on some socks, and put a ragged old pair of chucks on my feet, before I made my way to the garage to grab the lawn mower.
Twenty minutes later I was halfway done with the lawn, it was just after 8am, and already it was fucking boiling out here. Damn central Texas in the summer. I was sweating my boobs off. Perhaps this was not the best time to be braless in a white tank top standing in my back yard. this shirt was surely soaked through so that any passerby might see my b-cup tits clinging to the tank top pretty clearly. And there were passesers by. My family lived on a golf course, right outside the 6th tee. So a pretty regular stream of old men drove by every couple of minutes. I hope they got an eye full. I would say my pussy was sopping from the idea of them leering, but honestly it was just from the sweat of mowing the lawn. I'm sure my red pubes were moist to the touch. I was just getting to the last part of the lawn when I noticed that a golf cart had been stopped just past our yard for a little longer than normal, so I gave it a look, and it was him.
That guy who volunteered, or whatever, as a course marshal. The old man, who normally told kids to get off the course if they were using the cart path as an easy way to see a friend and stay off the actual streets. He was old, and had a bowling ball belly, and he was leering at me, soaked in sweat, my red hair matted to my pale skin as I cut the lawn. Of course it's not like he wouldn't have reason to stare.
I did not know his name, but I could tell you what his cock tasted like. I had blown him down by the reservoir a few weeks ago. Come to think of it, after I blew him, he fingered me until I couldn't take it any more, and then I had climbed on top of him and fucked him with a sense of reckless lust that was almost an out of body experience for me, till he came a second time, in my mouth for safety.
Now here he was, staring at me. He didn't say anything, and neither did I. we didn't even nod at each other, or signal that we had anything to say. We just looked at each other. After a moment, he turned from me and drove his cart away. I watched him leave thinking "the fuck would you call that?" but after a moment I was back to mowing the lawn, and I was done within five minutes.
I put the mower back into the garage and came into the kitchen, sweaty as fuck... holy shit was I going to need a shower, but right now I needed a glass of water. We kept a pitcher of it cold in the fridge, so I poured a glass and gulped it down. In the middle of my gulping there was a knock on the back door of the house.
In the years we had lived here, I am not sure anyone ever knocked on the back door of our house. very strange. I took my glass with me to investigate.
As soon as I left the kitchen, I could see who it was through the glass half of the back door... it was the golf cart guy. I half laughed, as a genuine look of confusion spread across my face. I held my water in one hand, and I opened the door. He was just standing there, looking serious.
"Yes?" I said.
"Can I come in?" he asked, I am sure I looked at him like he was out of his fucking mind, but he didn't seem to care, he just stepped inside the house. This 60 year old man in a polo shirt and a pair of khaki pants turned to close the door behind him, and I stepped back to let him.
"Home alone in the summer? Family at work?" he said.
"It's what people do."
"Is it?"
He grinned at me, and I grinned back, taken by his boldness. While I was mowing the lawn, he got an eye full of something he wanted more of and he just couldn't stop himself from coming to see me. I took a long drink from my glass of water and I set it down on the dining room table.
I bent my leg up, so I could grab hold of one of my chucks, and I pulled it off, looking at him. "I'm sorry," I said, "I was just cutting the lawn and I am sweaty as hell. I must look indecent."
He smiled at me as I took off my other shoe, tossing it on the floor. "I don't know if you realized that you had sweat so much that your tank top is basically see through."
"Oh, I hadn't." I said, pulling the tank top away from my body, so it didn't cling to my pert b-cup tits. "I know some men have heart conditions and can't handle the sight of an eighteen year old's body." As soon as I said it, I pulled the tank top over my head and dropped it on the floor.
I stood in front of the old man, topless, in gym shorts and socks. My bright red hair still sticky with sweat my tits moist and perky, turned up to my pink hard nipples. I said, "I am so sweaty, I should probably take a shower."
That was all he needed to see or hear, he closed the gap between us, grabbing me around the waist and licking sweat from the tip of my nipple, up my breast and my neck, and then he kissed me full on the lips. His tongue was hungry and he still tasted of cigarettes. He certainly wasn't the best kisses I had ever had, but he was so anxious that it made me wet just the same.
I broke from his embrace, and he said "I think you are just wet enough."
"Oh, I am." I said, and I stepped back from him and turned to walk away, leading him back to my bedroom. He walked behind me, his eyes firmly on my juicy ass, as I neared the door to my room, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down, letting them fall off me onto the floor.
