Housekeeping: This is a work of fiction. All characters are at least 18 years of age. I edit my own stories. I do not foresee getting an editor within the near future.
As any of my followers know, I like to experiment from time to time. I've switched perspectives for this one. It's an exercise to get me out of the writer's block that I have for a non-incest series that I really want to do. This is also my longest story. Hopefully, I was able to maintain continuity better now that I've had practice.
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MILF Gardening
A lawn care service for bored house wives
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Hi, I'm Marcus. College student. Redneck white trash that's a transplant to here in Texas. And a young entrepreneur.
I began a lawn care service when I was still in high school. Doing, you know, basic things. Lawn mowing and edge trimming. Brush removal. Herbicide and fertilizer spreading. The boring shit that many "financially comfortable" suburban husbands want to ignore. But their wives want to have a better curb appeal. Don't ask me why I know about 'curb appeal' before I'm 30. It's a thing I deal with. Anyway... It was such a good business that I was able to buy a couple of beater pick ups and some gas powered tools to loan out to part-timers that just want to get a few more bucks on the weekends or evenings after their main job. My parents never complained that the trucks and their trailers were taking up too much space. I took a couple of years off to save up money for college. I worked some crap factory jobs in the off seasons. But, I just finished my Freshman year. I now have to store the trucks and equipment at a cube storage type place. And the lawn care is now my primary income.
Now, I honestly can't remember when it morphed into a sex business... but, yeah. I've become a gigolo during the summer. Oh, the ladies still get the lawn care services. It's far too good of an alibi to not use it. I plow their gardens. Then I plow them. It's been a really fun side hustle.
But things have a way of going sideways. And you have to adapt.
Oh, you think that I'm writing this down to brag that I'm banging all of the hot MILFs in my suburban town? Well, Ok... maybe a little bit of bragging. But I'm also still trying to figure out how things turned out the way that they did... even if I know the details. It still confuses me.
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Second Monday of May and the season...
"Hello, Mr. Howell. I'm Marcus of Bangor Trim, Brush Removal, and Fertilizer. I believe that your neighbor Mrs. Clara told you that she referred me." I tell the balding portly financial manager as he's loading his golf bag into the trunk of his Mercedes SUV. He blatantly eyes me with suspicion. Mrs. Clara is a good friend of Mrs. Alice Howell. And knows how little attention good ole Peter here pays attention to her.
I know that there has been rumors of a gigolo roaming the town for a couple of years now. Spoiler alert: I've never been caught, and I don't plan on getting sloppy. Who knows what's running through his mind.
"How old are you, son?" he scowls at me. He looks me over a couple of times. I'm dresses in my usual company branded tshirt, jeans, Stetson hat, and duct taped cowboy boots. I'm a mess. And I don't care.
"Me? I'm 20. I've been doing this during the summer since I was 15." I reply happily. I hand him a business card.
Flipping it over, he asks me, "Who's your boss, son?"
Feeling smug, I hit him with the ole dazzling smile while hooking my dirty thumbs into my belt loops. "I'm the owner of Bangor Trim, Brush Removal, and Fertilizer. I'm an entrepreneur and job creator. I have a crew of 12 part-timers and a customer base of over 400 homes." I am nakedly appealing to his capitalist nature. Following up, "I'm licensed with the city and state." Pointing at the business card, "As well as insured for any property damage." My mother is the underwriter. So I've got a real sweetheart deal on the insurance. Which I'm not willing to endanger.
"And the name? Bangor?" He's still suspicious.
"Oh, that? My family are transplants here in Texas. We're from Maine originally. That's kinda why I like working outdoors with plants." All of that is actually true. But this conversation is not going as well as I had hoped. Mrs. Clara had promised to soften the piggy little man up for me.
"How long will you be here?" Now, I'm getting annoyed with the turd of human. I know. I know. I'm a hypocrite.
"Well..." I start off raising my eyebrows and looking at the front of the house. "Today, I'm mostly here to give an estimate and find out what you and the Mrs. are looking for your lawn care needs and lawn care accessories."
The King of the Hill reference makes him roll his eyes. "Whatever, son. I at least expect the grass mowed," he replies as he notices the riding deck lawn mower in the trailer on my truck. "I'm asking how long will you be here. The noise and fumes from those fowl machines give me migraines. I'm heading to the country club for 18 holes with the boys. I'll be gone for at least five hours. Will that be enough time for you to finish?"
Waving my hand, "Oh! Yeah! That's plenty of time, sir."
He closes the trunk. "Good. A couple more things, son," he adds glaring at me. "Those part-timers you spoke of better not be any of your illegal family members. And 'the help' does not talk to my daughters."
That takes me back a bit. I biting back a face full of cringe. I'm just a simple redneck that's been in the sun for more than 40 hours a week for a few weeks. I step out of the way as he gets into his car and backs up.
Once he's on the street, he rolls down his window to shout, "And that truck better not go onto my property!" He tries to peel out for whatever reason. What a douche bag.
I was so engrossed in the shit show of a conversation with Mr. Howell that I didn't realize someone walk up behind me. A gorgeous smoky feminine voice full of vocal fry asks, "So, what do you think of my piece of shit husband?"
I turn around and see an absolute bombshell Latina gently in her 40's. She works out. A lot. The only sag I can see on her is in her generous breasts. I blink a few times. "Mrs. Alice Howell?" I feel unsure. Pete buddy must be at least ten years older than her. She's dressed in hip hugging yoga pants showing off her thigh gap and the cropped and sleeveless sweatshirt hangs off of her shoulder. Long dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Large breasts. Obvious implants. The nipples should still taste the same.
She corrects me. "Senora Alice Martinez de los Howells." I nod my head in acknowledgment while trying to get more of a gander at this MILF. "Estas muy moreno. Eres Mexicano?" That beautiful vocal fry is replaced by an equally sexy sing song accent.
"Huh? Oh, no. No. I'm as white trash as they come."