It's a scorching afternoon in late July, like high 90s. The humidity is relentless and the sun is high in the sky without a sign of setting. But, my mother-in-law's cousin Ally needs her lawn manicured, so since I ask How high? on the way up when Ally yells Jump! I will mow and trim her grass without one complaint.
And, I'll love every minute of it.
Ally and I are pretty tight. We're both widowed, suffering through the deaths of our spouses the same winter week just two years ago. We were simply a man and woman who shared holiday meals before the tragedies struck. Now, Ally and I text, message, visit, call, and slap each other's asses whenever we get the opportunity. Well, I offer just a love tap, but she hauls off and smacks the hell out of my butt, then comments 'That's a sexy hard ass you have there, Michael! You working out?'
Then I usually begin to think it's possible with Ally, yet I move on from those thoughts because...of course...she is my mother-in-law's cousin.
Trouble is, she's my mother-in-law's hot cousin.
At age 60, Ally looks 40, at most. Her brunette hair is cut in a fashionable bob with a flip under. Her eyes are dark, like a youthful French woman. In fact, she looks like Coco Chanel in her younger days before the cigarette lines dashed a puffy face. Ally has small cute boobs and the butt I love tap is a nice narrow and round. Yet, the featured attraction on Ally's frame is her legs. They are tanned, extraordinarily long, and shapely, extending all the way up to her ass. When Ally wants to knock men dead, she wears a mini dress, or a pencil skirt, or short shorts, all accentuating her angular beauty cut high by the legs.
She's got legs, and she knows how to use them.
When ZZTop penned that line, they may as well had been looking at Ally.
Arriving at Ally's home, I pull my late model candy-apple red El Do up to the open garage. In there I see lawn equipment. A Lawn-Boy mower and a Stihl 2-stroke weed wacker are resting on the floor. I gaze around Ally's yard. The lawn is already manicured, with not a blade of grass out of place and no weeds within a hundred yards.
Why am I here?
Just as I was turning to walk back into the garage, I heard a loud Thwap! and felt a sharp sting on my ass.
"Ouch!"
"That's a sexy hard ass you got there, Michael! I know you're working out!"
That all-to-familiar statement is followed by a snorting laugh. I spin around to see Ally behind me. She's looking good in a two-piece athletic running top and shorts. You've seen what I'm talking about during the televised coverage of the 2016 Rio Olympics; the female runners are world-class athletes, barely dressed, and they're hot.
Now, Ally does run to stay in shape, but I'm used to seeing her in high cut shorts and a t-shirt tucked in. Today, however, Ally's outfit is a day-glo jog bra displaying a little titillating tit action and one of those ultra tight day-glo compression bottoms with no more than an inch of cloth holding the front and back together. It's almost like a string bikini but tighter, like second skin.
Ally's face is split with a smile, like 'I got you, Michael!'
The compression bottoms. The attitude. The compression bottoms. Ally has aroused my interest. At this point I would like to have thought ahead and worn a jock strap under my shorts.
As my hard on grows, I think quickly and drop the white towel from my neck and cover my crotch vertically, similar to a loincloth.
Our playful relationship. Ally's loooong legs. The compression ass. The evil grin. This is not the first time she's surprised me with a sexy look. That always creates a frustrating unrequited knot in my Levi's.
I'm 33 years of age. Over the past 18 months I've been what one would call sexually satisfied through a couple of widows who like me. I'm young, vital, and strong due to Cross-Fit, which helps my popularity. We the widowed just understand what the deal is and simply care for each other's needs without expectations of commitment.
Ally chooses not to be a member of that community, maybe because of her relative older age. Yet, being 60 does not prevent Ally from flirting with me until my face is red and a round mound is growing in my pants. This usually goes on to the point of discomfort, after which I have to retreat to the privacy of my home and stroke it while thinking about being seduced by Ally. Very efficient are these thoughts about Ally and fucking Ally in that I end up popping off with gushers in a minute or two.
Her birth age compared to her looks age is almost dissonant. Yet, I don't care because I'm at 100 percent erection now, and it's difficult to hold my seven inch cock down under the loin cloth.
"Here I am," Ally says, "dressed to make you think, and you don't have one word for your own mother-in-law's own cousin?"
"Well, Ally, you're...uh...hot! Yes...hot! Hot in that track outfit...or...gear. Damn, woman, you know what I'm talking about!"
"Yep. I may not be able to sprint any more, but I sure as fuck look like I can. Right, Michael?"
"Absolutely!"
"Yes," she replies.
"Question, Ally."
"Shoot," she says.
I almost did.
"Ally, your grass is short, healthy, and green, and there are no weeds within miles. Why am I here?"
Ally takes this opportunity to examine my loincloth. Another smile sneaks onto her lips. She nods to the affirmative.
"Michael, this ruse...it's just time we get together like this and...you know, uh...you're here so I can seduce you. How does that sound? How am I doing?"
I'm in a wide-eyed silent trance.
