Ménage à Quatre - Chapter 1

“How’s it going, Mrs. Carlisle?” Rick asked, looking me up and down with his beautiful, big brown eyes.

He was pushing the mower and grinning. He seemed happy with what he was seeing.

It was early—before seven—on a Monday. The last time I saw virgin morning on Monday I had been awake all night Sunday, but this morning I had a very good reason to drag myself out of bed. Lust!

“Oh, please, Rick. You’ve known me long enough to call me Anna,” I said, walking over to one of the loungers by the pool.

“Sure, Anna,” he said. “I’m going to do some yard work. Is that ok with you?”

He gave me a hungry young man glance that was so straightforward, it sent shivers through me. I was in a white one-piece that pushed up my tits and crawled up my ass. His lustful look said I was still something to look at. Even at thirty-three. Keep looking, big boy!

“Do what you have to do, don’t worry about me, Rick,” I said, turning to bend over the lounger and giving him a good look at my juicy ass. “I’m going to sit here and do a bit of reading.”

Rick grew up right down the street, and my hubby, Victor, the skin flick, had hired him because, as he had said, it gave the boy something to do. In reality, it was because Rick was cheaper than a lawn service and he worked like a dog. He had been doing the lawn regularly for four years, and he had barely turned eighteen. He certainly wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a buff man, and he was why I was awake so early.

“Ok, Mrs.…Anna,” he said, smiling. “Feel free to tell me if I’m bothering you.”

Uh, huh, hot and bothering.

“I will,” I said, unable to take my eyes off him.

His brown hair was wavy and a little shaggy. His face was angular. He had a dimple on his left cheek. Rick was definitely a heartthrob—actually, it wasn’t my heart that he made throb, but cuntthrob just doesn’t have the same ring.

He pulled off his t-shirt. Drooling, I watched his muscles work. Oh my, rippling stomach and chiseled pecs—good morning, beautiful world! I was getting wet just from looking at him. He dropped the t-shirt on the ground.

“Is that what you do with your clothes, Rick?” I said. “Give me that.”

He grinned. “You’re like my mom, Anna,” he said, tossing me his t-shirt—and I wanted to tell him that I was nothing like his mom, unless she wanted to suck her son’s cock. “She hates how I leave my clothes everywhere.”

I caught his t-shirt. “Aren’t you cold?” I asked, looking up at his razor sharp little nipples. God, I wanted to bite them!

“No way. It feels great out here,” he said, stretching.

“Brrr,” I said, shivering from the temperature and my libido. Thank God, it was cool, because it meant I could use the throw to cover myself. “Don’t let me keep you. I know you must have better things to do on your Easter break.”

“Not really,” he said. “I’m taking it easy.”

“I bet you are,” I said. “I bet the girls are lined up to be with you.”

He smiled. “I don’t have the time to date,” he said. “I’ve got to think about school.”

“Well, don’t work too hard,” I said, arranging my blanket so he couldn’t see where my hand was going. “This is the time to have fun.”

“That’s what everyone says,” he laughed, and he pushed the mower toward the lawn.

I watched him go. His cut-offs were booty shorts, and his firm ass looked so damn hot. I breathed in his scent from his t-shirt. It was musky.

I’m a dirty old lady lusting after a sweet young piece of meat, I thought.

I’m not getting enough sex, I thought.

Neither thought kept me from massaging my eager pussy beneath the throw. Did I care that I was outside? Did I care that I could see the houses across the lake? Did I care that anyone could see me? Fuck no.