"Oh, shit!"
Patty heard things moving a moment before she felt the board fall and trap her where she knelt.
"Fuck!"
No one could hear her. The noise from the party in the backyard was faint as the garage she was now trapped in was on the other side of the house from their patio and pool.
None of their guests could hear her from where she was, head under the lowest shelf attached to the side of their messy, crowded garage.
She sighed, and tried to back up, her bare knees pressed to the cold cement floor. The board she'd pushed aside to get at what she wanted had fallen over, trapping her.
"Damn him! He never finishes his stupid projects."
She had recognized the piece of plywood as the start of a doghouse her husband had started several months ago for their pittie. Like so many of his other projects, it sat there, half-finished.
Someone had mentioned the volleyball net they had that attached to the sides of the pool, and asked her where it was. She remembered and told them she had to dig it out and she'd be back.
So off she went, wobbling from the booze she'd had, through the kitchen, around the corner and into the garage on the other side of the house.
The place was a disaster, with boxes and all kinds of junk lining the shelves attached to both walls, and sitting around on the floor.
Her husband, Jack, thought he was a woodworker, and had all manner of boards and planks lying around, propped up or on the ground around the various power tools he'd purchased over the years.
That, combined with the boxes of stuff she hadn't wanted to get rid of, made the two-car garage barely navigable.
Remembering where they'd stashed last summer's pool toys, she'd pushed things aside to squat down and get it.
As she struggled to get free, she realized she'd not been very careful about how she moved things away, and they'd fallen over just as she got her head down to look under the lowest shelf, not more than a foot off the cement floor.
Now, the cutout that was supposed to be the entrance to the doghouse now lay over her torso, just behind her arms, effectively trapping her. It fit around her snugly, making it impossible to back out of it.
It wasn't a large piece of wood, but with all the other crap stacked up, it had lodged itself between some heavy boxes, making it impossible for her to move it away.
She tried sitting up, pushing against the wood with her back, but it barely budged. She hadn't seen all the things that had fallen over, but it was pretty obvious that something heavy lay over the board that pinned her in place. Boxes and other junk had fallen around her.
Patty couldn't back up or push it off. She knelt in her bikini, ass in the air and head mostly under the garage shelf.
And she was pissed.
"Help!"
She called over and over. The distant sound of the music was all she heard in response to her cries.
The fruity mixed drinks her husband made for their parties were mostly alcohol, and she'd had several, leaving her fairly drunk.
With a heavy sigh, she called out again for help, and felt a pulse of hope when she heard the door to the hallway open.
"I'm over here!"
The door closed, feet shuffled, and she heard someone come closer.
"Jack? Is that you? You're stupid doghouse fell on me and I can't get out."
He didn't answer, but she heard a low, masculine chuckle as the footsteps stopped. She knew he was right behind her.
"Help me!" She wiggled, trying to get attention, then realized what she must look like.
She'd worn her naughty red bikini today. The one that was almost a thong, but had a narrow panel that barely covered her ass crack.
She had a great ass and knew it. Working out in the gym several times a week ensured that. And now it was there, pointing at her husband, who still hadn't gotten her free.
"What are you waiting for? Get this stuff off me."
Another low chuckle, then she heard a noise she couldn't identify.
"What are you doing?"
Still nothing, but then she felt fingertips slide lightly along her thinly covered butt, right along the fabric that covered her crack.
It tickled, and she couldn't stop a giggle. "Cut it out! Get me out of here!" She wiggled her ass, causing his fingers to move over the bare, taut flesh of her cheeks.
His palm pressed to one cheek, squeezing it as his fingers dug into her flesh.
"What are you doing?" She pushed up, but still could not move the board off her.
Another hand grasped her other cheek, both massaging and rubbing over her flesh. They moved down, along the back of her thighs, then back up, cupping and pressing into her ass, before gliding along her back.
"Dammit, Jack! Now's not the time. Someone will come in here looking for us."
His hands moved relentlessly over her flesh, then one slid down, his fingers tracing over the narrow fabric. The fingertip passed over her butthole, digging into it momentarily before moving further between her legs.
She tried to move her legs together, but couldn't. It felt like his knees were between hers. One hand continued to move over her flesh as the other found her pussy.
His fingertip pressed into the bikini, wiggled around right where her entrance was, then pushed forward, finding her clit at the top of her slit.
Her hips jolted, and he lost contact for a moment, before pushing his fingers along her pussy lips. Over and over, his hands moved, and her alcohol-sodden mind betrayed her.
