Life was good. Really good. The sun was bright and warm, the air was clear, the day was perfect. My dick was so very fully hard and throbbing pleasantly with the remnants of a deliciously naughty dream as I woke slowly from a lazy mid-morning nap.
I stretched and gazed up into a deep blue sky, relaxing, soaking up the sun in the back yard of my folks' house. I lounged there, completely naked by the pool and let my cock sway gently, standing up proudly in the warm air. I might take care of it in a bit or maybe just play with it some to stoke my appetite for a more thorough session later, but right now I was just enjoying the naughty naked freedom.
I was home from my junior year at college and my folks were off on some cruise or other. I had the place to myself and I was loving the superbly naughty thrill of literally hanging out bare ass naked.
As I said: Life was good. After four years in the Navy right after high school, I found that college was a breeze, I had scholarships on top of my GI Bill, a good, well-paying job on campus when I was there, and a lazy summer lawn and yardwork gig to keep me tan and bring in extra cash - and, sometimes other benefits.
My phone buzzed and I idly thumbed the WhatsApp alert to open it.
Hi, Jack. This is Lydia. Christie gave me your number and said you do some really great work. I was wondering if you might be available. I have about a half acre of yard and some really wild bushes that need some professional attention.
I sat up and took notice at that.
I thumbed her avatar to get a better look. She was super cute! Straight, glossy, cinnamon blond hair that fell across her shoulders and a super pretty smile; lusciously thick lips curled to expose orthodontically perfect teeth. I could have stroked off right there just fantasizing about what she could do with that hot-as-fuck mouth of hers. But she was offering a job, so I deferred for the moment. I told myself there'd be plenty more to stroke to after I'd put paid to her yard and wild bushes.
I'd done quite a lot of yard work over the past couple of summers; mostly from word-of-mouth connections, so this wasn't an unusual message. Still... It was a referral from Christie and I thought - even started to hope - that that might be significant.
In addition to a good bit of yard work, I'd done some other, more interesting work for Christie. She's a very hot and, as I'd discovered to my delight, very horny friend of my Mom. Thinking of that, I was soon wondering if perhaps this might just be more than a simple yardwork referral. I intended to explore that possibility.
I texted back,
I'm totally available. When/where?
Lydia sent me a pin not ten seconds later, adding
Now's good? Or whenever you can fit me in if you're busy.
I went inside, pulled on a scrub shirt and a pair of swim trunks, and stepped into my Crocs as I texted back that I was on my way. Less than a half-hour later, I pulled up at Lydia's place.
She literally bounced out to meet me. Her avatar didn't half do her justice: She was stunningly cute! She stood five foot eight or nine in her flat strappy sandals. If she were wearing heels, I'd be looking up at her.
"Hi! I'm Lydia. Thank you so much for coming," she beamed at me. Her smile was warm and engaging. I focused on it, to keep from openly ogling her. Four years in service and master chief knows how many sexual harassment classes had managed to make me a passable gentlemen, at least outwardly.
As a side effect of this behavioral reprogramming, my peripheral vision had improved significantly. Lydia wore a loose, thin, lavender pullover that couldn't quite conceal the curves of her generous breasts. She had a wine-colored sarong wrapped around her curvy hips. And she smelled like sex and toasted vanilla.
The erection that had subsided on the drive over began to stir again in my trunks.
But I was there for her yard, I reminded myself. I smiled back, "Hi, Lydia. Let's see what I can do for you today," I said.
"Right to business, huh? This way then." She led me through the foyer and a neat, tastefully appointed living room and out onto a modestly opulent patio overlooking a slightly overgrown back yard.
"Here it is. My secret, shameful garden," she said as she led me through the wide French doors onto her patio.
If the yard beyond was a bit of mess, the marble-tiled patio was immaculate. It sported an outdoor grill and kitchen on one side and an in-ground hot tub on the other. Between them, two loungers and a pair of deck chairs flanked a square table that supported a broad sun umbrella. A pitcher of dark red liquid sat on the table with a couple of glasses.
Lydia saw me notice the pitcher. "Care for a sangria, Jack" she asked.
"I wouldn't say no, Lydia. Thanks." She poured two glasses of the ruby concoction and handed one to me. We toasted and I sipped at the cold, bittersweet wine cocktail. Lydia wasn't sporting a wedding ring, and everything I'd noted in my brief passage through the house suggested she was single. She liked to entertain, but she wasn't hitched, I was guessing.
I put my glass down and pulled out my notepad and pencil, walking towards the end of the patio. "Let's see what we've got," I said. "Let me take a look around and I'll work up a plan, yeah?"
"Great," Lydia smiled at me over the rim of her glass as she folded herself into one of the chairs.
In the center of the yard was a decorative fountain nestled in front of some bushes and other decorative plantings opposite a shaded glider swing. Untamed bushes lined the fences on either side of the yard. Near the back fence, two oak trees supported a large covered hammock.
I made a short tour of the grounds, making some notes, then returned to sit opposite Lydia. I took another sip of my drink as my pencil ticked off the items I'd noted and I did some quick math.
"So I suggest we start with the bushes. I'll give them a good trim, shape them up. Then the lawn, and then finish off with a bit of fresh mulch and some bed work. I'm thinking two, maybe two and a half hours, tops."
"Bushes first, not the grass," Lydia asked.
"That way I can bag the clippings along with the grass as I mow," I explained.
"And the mulch? What's that run," she asked, seeming more curious than concerned over cost.
"Free," I said, "I trade the bagged clippings in at Forster's for compost and I get mulch from them."
"Sounds like a great arrangement," she smiled at me.
"It is," I admitted, "win-win and green on top." We shared a short laugh, then I said, "My only question is what you want done with the hedges and those two bushes by the fountain. I can shape them almost any way you want."
"Oh, I was just thinking a neat trim," she said, "but if you want to get artsy... how artsy, like Edward Scissorhands?"
"Not that artsy, but I'm okay with the trimmers," I assured her.
"Well, whatever you think looks best. Follow your muse, Jack." Her smile was warm and entrancing. I shook my head slightly just once to refocus.
"Alright, then. I'll get to work," I said, starting to get up.
"There's water and beer and drinks and whatnot in the fridge if you get thirsty," she said, lifting one arm towards the refrigerator next to the outdoor kitchen. "And if you get hungry, let me know. I've got sandwich stuff and other options."
"Great, thanks," I said, not quite stopping myself from thinking about what those other options might be. I felt my tackle tingle in my trunks, but pushed through. I went back out to my truck and pulled it around to the side where I'd seen a gate in the fence. I grabbed my trimmers and went to work.
I made quick work of the bushes along the fence line, then got my trimmer and whacked the grass along the hedge line, around the two trees, and finally around the fountain and its shrubbery. Then I set to work on the two large bushes that sat on the opposite side of the fountain from the glider.
