The big, white-haired man met me at the back door, handed me two twenties and asked me to trim the sidewalks and around the shrubs. Then he said, with a smile, "My wife's out back somewhere sunning herself, probably behind the garage. Ask her to move if she's in the way. I've got to run. Tee time you know." And he hurried away to his gull-winged Mercedes, a quarter-million-dollar toy.

I got his big, self-propelled mower started and on the third swipe of the backyard found his wife right where he guessed, in a tree-sheltered area behind the three-car garage. She was lying on her stomach, and she was buck-naked. I let go of the handle and the mower stopped. She reared up on one elbow, displaying a very full breast with a dark nipple, smiled at me and asked, "Am I in the way?"

My heart nearly stopped and my cock quivered. She was a ripe beauty, long and lean, pale blonde and cover-girl pretty - the prototypical trophy wife I guess.

"Do my back, will you?" she asked, holding out a big tube of something and covering her exposed breast with her hand and forearm. It was more than a handful, that bulging mound and her mounded ass was unbelieveable.

"Sure," I said, kneeling beside her as she got back prone. And feeling my cock twitch. I squeezed out a thick ribbon on goo and spread it on her golden back with both hands. She was warm and smooth, lithe and well muscled, her spine a deep trench.

"That's nice. Do all the way down."

I covered her rounded buttocks, kneaded them gently and put some on the back of her thighs. She spread her legs and I rubbed downward, getting her sex lips between my fingers. Her hairless vulva was tightly closed, but her labia were puffy. She made a noise, just an Um, as I withdrew, rubbed my hands on her shoulders and got back to mowing. She glistened. It took me a while to relax.

I did the other side of the lawn and when I got back to her area, she and the aluminum chaise were gone. I finished mowing, did the trimming with one of those string things, battery powered, and then went into the kitchen to get a drink. There she sat, smiling and drinking iced tea, and wearing a man's undershirt, a thin, white t-shirt that displayed her big nipples and long, long legs. Period.

"I'm Melissa," she said as I stood at the sink and admired her. Her nipples made sharp peaks in the thin shirt. I introduced myself and said I was very glad to meet her. "Thanks for doing my back," she said, "will you do me another little favor?"

"Sure," I said, looking at my watch.

She stood up and came toward me. The t-shirt reached maybe an inch down her thighs, just barely covering her pussy and about half her ass. I watched her belly mound jiggle and her big breasts bobble. "He's a good man, my new husband, and he does his best; takes his little pills and all, but I need more, more than once a week, more than one or two pokes."

She came right into my arms and lifted her chin so I kissed her, deeply and firmly and hugged her to me, enjoying the feel of her ripe, warm body, crushing her breasts to my chest, my hard cock rubbing her mound, eager for friction.

She pulled free, tossed back her hair and said; "Let's start here, if you don't mind," and she put her hands down on the counter and spread her feet, grinning up at me.

I stepped behind her, freed my aching prick, slipped it up and down her pulsing crack until it was slick and her inner lips were exposed, actually fluttering, and then I screwed the head into her.

She whimpered. "Be gentle. You're awful big."

I held her hips, turned her left and right a bit, and she rose on her toes as it moved up and in, inch by inch, opening a very warm and wet passage, a vagina that pulsed with energy. She was tight but yielding, sinuous, pulsing.

"Oh, oh, oh god," she moaned when I was perhaps halfway in, "slower, slower." Her head hung down, her breath very ragged.