Those afternoons with Ron when he was allegedly mowing my lawn really began to make my day. At first they came up once or twice a week. Then, three times weekly as my appetite for lust steadily grew.
By late summer I was having to feed the family Hamburger-Helper without any hamburger in it to make ends meet on my now-depleted household budget, ten-dollar bill after ten-dollar bill going out of the house money for my "gardening" bill. And, of course, meanwhile, the lawn grew more and more unruly, looking rattler every day because nobody was actually keeping it up, even though the bill was enormous.
One of these days it was for sure George was going to figure out something funny was going on. After he'd tripped in the weeds, probably, and jarred his brains by falling on his fat ass. Then there'd be six kinds of hell to pay. George had a particularly vicious temper when it came to money. The bastard's mind had always seen everything in terms of dollars and cents.
Actually, you could've said George was generous because he bought so many things for his family. In fact I'd thought so myself for a long time, and punished myself for not being grateful enough. But lately I'd begun to notice that George only provided us with things that the neighbors could notice, so they'd be sure and know old George Fredericks was keeping up with the Joneses.
At last I'd started to realize that George wasn't so great on providing things that were not apparent to the rest of the world – things between the two of us. He gave me money to spend, for instance, but it was like I was a child on an allowance. And he parceled out sex like his supply was running dry.
Then there was time. It was all spent on his job. He'd been up to his ears in that Goddamn insurance racket from the first day he got out of junior college and landed the job at H amp; R Mutual Life. He'd always said he was doing it for us. That we had to make some sacrifices now so we could be sure of a good life later on.
"Fuck it!" I hissed. I was standing on the front porch, the weeds waving in front of me, thinking about how George had painted me into a corner of always living for tomorrow.
"Just fuck it!" I repeated, suddenly regarding the weeds in triumph, as though they were a symbol of my rebellion against always doing what I was told. Against being nothing more than a human dust mop. "I want to live for today!"
I was tired of constantly doing things by indirection… doing something today so that it would presumably have some desired effect days, or perhaps months, in the future. Sometimes it was even supposed to take years… like money you kept putting in the bank for the future.
When was the future, anyway? I was alive now!
And I was still young. And pretty. And sexy. And horny.
And right now I was getting squishy between the legs just thinking about it.
Without hesitation I automatically slid my hand under the waist of the cut-off jeans I was wearing. I was glad I was panty-less as I felt my fingers immediately touch my bare cunt. My pussy lips oozed against my probing fingers, bathing them with a hot milk of arousal. I was so hot that my cunt seemed like it was melting.
So turned on that my mouth was literally watering, my thoughts turned automatically to getting it on. Images of a long, slim teenager's cock squishing in and out of a succulent, mature pussy filled my mind. My brain was an erogenous zone and, suddenly, being fucked was all I could think of.
And sucking, too.
The images transformed into a big sweet cock filling a mouth, lipstick smearing a crimson track along the shaft of a prick.
I ran my tongue hungrily over my lips at the mere thought of a cock in my mouth.
My pussy spasmed as I tickled my clit and realized that I wouldn't be satisfied until I wound up with a prick inside it.
I promised myself that first I would taste it, and then I would fuck it.
Yes, this was the big change in my life over the summer. Where before I had repressed my horniness, now I sought to fulfill my wildest desires. Before we had had the cleanest house in the suburb, I was so busy washing and cleaning to keep from admitting all I wanted to do was suck and fuck. And I was miserable. A doormat. A dustmop.
Now the place looked like a dump, because I'd started doing what my body told me to do instead of being controlled by my hang-ups.
The change in my life was accountable to one thing only: I'd started to fuck because I wanted to fuck.
And I sucked and fucked a teenager because I wanted to suck and fuck him. No wonder I was deliriously happy for the first time.
I wanted to wrap my lips around his long smooth cock, tasting it sweetly in my mouth when I licked the dew off the tip. Then I wanted him to go down on me. I wanted his mouth at my cunt while I spread my long legs to the fullest. And, finally, with my legs still spread to the ultimate, I wanted his cock-head surging between my pussy lips. His prick filling my cunt. Further. And further inside me. Until he came!
Oh, God, I couldn't stand it. I looked down to my sopping crotch and saw that I was on the verge of making a spectacle of myself to the neighbors, half my hand clearly up my obviously wet pussy.
There was no doubt about it. I had to get Ron to mow the lawn today.
I ran to the phone and dialed his number. A voice I recognized as his mother's answered the phone.
"Is Ron there?" I said urgently. "I need to talk to him."
"Well, he's busy now," she said.
"It's important."
"Say, who is this, anyway?" his mother said suspiciously. "You high-school girls are getting bolder everyday, calling up like this. For your information my son is on a date today with Ginny Mims. They're going to play tennis."
"No, no," I said. "I'm not a high-school girl. I'm… I'm the lady that… Ron does my yard." As I finished my sentence, the impact of what I'd just heard abruptly hit me.
A date. With a girl his own age. That meant Ron saw other women besides me… except they were girls.
Or were they all young girls? Maybe he was "mowing lawns" at other houses. I'd have to drive around and see whose yard looked crummy.
"Oh, I see," his mother was saying as I drifted off into left field someplace. "I'll go get him. Ron's lawn-mowing business has grown by leaps and bounds this summer, and I know it's important to him. He'll be here in a second."
"Thank you," I said, trying to interpret the growth of my teenage lover's business.
"Say," his mother abruptly blurted into the phone, "you wouldn't happen to be Mrs. Fredericks, would you?"
"Yes… yes… I would," I said meekly, cringing at what might be coming next.
"Well, then, I just want to thank you," she said cheerily. "You know Ron told me that you were his first customer, and that he owes you a lot because working for you gave him a lot of ideas he used to get more yards. He's a regular businessman."
Ugh, all of a sudden I was sick of her. She sounded like George's mother describing him ten years ago when we were both just out of high school. It made me want to puke.
But not to fuck any less.
"Ron, Ron," I implored when he came to the phone. "I've just got to see you today." Panic was starting to set in, and as I spoke, I reached into my cut-offs again, seizing my sopping cunt like it was a security blanket.
"But I was just there a couple of days ago," he said calmly. "That should be enough."
"Ron," I humbled myself, trying to ignore his indifference, "my pussy is foaming. It wants you. It needs your cock."
"Yeah, sure, sure," he said coolly, trying to hide the nature of my end of the conversation from the others at his end of the line. "But didn't my mother tell you that I'm busy today, that I've got a date?"
"Then it's true," I blurted furiously, astonished at my jealousy. "You are with a girl. And what about those other lawns you mow? Your mother also told me that your business is growing by leaps and bounds."
"Hey, shhhhh," he whispered. "They can almost hear you."
"They'll hear a lot more than that," I seethed angrily, desperate at the prospect of losing my teenage fucking machine, "unless you come over right away."
"But I can't break my date," he whined.
"Tell her it's an emergency. Leave her with your mom," I suggested, my gushing words revealing my desperation. "It won't take long. Just a quickie."
"Yes?"
"I've got to feel your cock in my cunt right away or I won't make it through the day. Please come over and fuck me," I caved in and begged, cramming my stiff fingers up the crack of my pussy in secret emphasis.
"Oh, all right, all right," he said. "I'll see what I can do and be over as fast as I can. Just so long as it won't take too long."
"Don't worry, Ronnie," I said, my voice reeking of humiliation, "my cunt is so sloppy it'll go off in seconds. Just as soon as I feel your hot, throbbing cock inside it."
"You sure?"
"I've got three fingers up it right now," I confessed. "I'm warming it up for you. Please come over and stick your cock in it. Please fuck me."
After he hung up I threw off my clothes and ran, stark naked, for the bedroom. I threw myself on the bed and spread my legs in the classic fucking position, gazing in wonder at my open cunt reflecting redly in the vanity-table mirror and getting hornier and juicier by the second.
All the begging, all the pleading I had done, all the humiliation I had suffered over the phone meant nothing to me if I could get Ron's hot cock inside my pussy. Where previously I had been a slave to housework and boredom, now I was a slave to fucking, willing to go to any humbling extreme to get it. I realized that I was willing to degrade myself in front of a teenage boy if I could get his cock inside me.
I don't know how long I lay there naked before the mirror. My legs were spread so that my pussy seemed like an oozing target in the mirror, the bubbling line of my crack the bullseye which the teen's cock would soon pierce.
How could I keep track of time? Time, space, existence… everything was irrelevant in the face of my oozingly ready cunt, waiting wetly for a cock. Everything was incinerated in my blazing desire to fuck.
My mind was engorged as though it were a cunt by the image of Ron's pumping cock, and I lost track of everything and just waited. My legs spread. My pussy open. The pink lips parted just enough to reveal my red fucking canal. Drooling. Glistening. Screaming silently for a big, hard cock.