Chapter 1: Moving Day

The crack of thunder reverberates throughout the bedroom, waking Ricky and his wife Maggie. The lightning bursts are practically continuous. Maggie rolls onto her side so she can watch nature’s light show through the large bay window in the bedroom. Now awake, Ricky also rolls onto his side to watch the lightning. He starts to harden as Maggie’s ass occasionally bumps against his crotch, so he nudges himself forward to nestle his now-erect member into the cleft of Maggie’s backside.

As the lightning show continues Maggie starts to wiggle her butt against Ricky’s now fully engorged member. He needs no further encouragement. He pulls down his boxers and slides Maggie’s thong aside, slowly maneuvering himself to enter Maggie as she raises her leg to give him unimpeded access.

Ricky easily slides into his wet wife. He pushes in as far as he could, then holds himself in place as he reaches around Maggie, cupping a breast in his hand and gently tweaking her nipple, causing her to purr.

“Uhm, yeah, you feel so good,” Maggie says as she continues to wriggle her backside against him.

Ricky slowly pumps in and out of his wife. Her own movements match his pace. They alternate long sensual strokes with moments of no movement as they watch lightning and feel the thunder reverberate throughout the house.

The lightning and thunder increase like the climax of a fireworks show. Ricky follows along and begins to earnestly rock back and forth. Suddenly, he makes a few quick hard pumps that match a series of rapid lightning flashes light the room, followed by a prolonged thunderclap. With his final thrust he embeds himself deeply within Maggie as she also reaches her own climax in sync with both the storm and Ricky.

Ricky stays buried in Maggie, with his hand still cupping her breast. She arches her neck back to him and kisses him deeply, then rolls back onto her side as the thunder and lightning also subside.

“Good night, babe. Love you,” murmurs Maggie as she closes her eyes and snuggles against her husband as his member slowly deflates.

Ricky wakes when Maggie stirs in his grasp. The light of a clear blue morning is streaming through the window. He is flaccid, but his little guy starts to show signs of life as he rubs his eyes and focuses on Maggie’s nakedness as she rolls out of bed. Maggie sees Ricky’s stirring member and comments.

“Not now,” she says as she leans over the bed to give Ricky a kiss, her breasts hanging temptingly close to the front of his face.

Ricky takes a breast in his hand as he returns the kiss. The earlier twitching turns into full-on morning wood. He reaches to pull his wife back into bed when she spins out of his reach.

“Down, big guy,” she laughs.

Ricky harrumphs and says, “Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands in the shower.”

“Not this morning,” responds Maggie. “We’ve got a to-do list. Just throw on some work clothes and let’s get started.”

Ricky had started to roll out of bed, then groans loudly and flops back down onto his pillow.

“Ugh, what if we throw on some clothes and go out for breakfast first?”

Maggie looks at him sternly. “We’ve been saying we’ll get stuff done around the house for almost two months. No excuses, no side trips, no nothing this morning. We’re going to get this list knocked out today.”

Maggie is standing at the foot of the bed. She has already pulled on panties and a sports bra and is slipping into a thin, paint-stained t-shirt.

“C’mon, those leaves aren’t going to just jump out of the gutter,” Maggie says as she grabs Ricky’s foot and pulls him halfway off the bed. “And, who’s to say when we’ll have another pleasant morning to work outside? The burbs in Chicago can get brutal by the end of October.”

“OK, OK, I’m getting up. Just takes a few minutes to get the ‘ol bones working,” says Ricky.

“Old bones?” Maggie grunts. “I passed the 30-year mark a year before you and I’m not bitching and whining about my old bones.”

Ricky throws a sock at her which she easily evades. She picks it off the dresser and tosses it back.

“Meet you in the kitchen,” she says as she heads out of the bedroom.

Ricky finishes dressing in his work clothes and meets Maggie in the kitchen long enough to eat a breakfast bar and down a glass of orange juice. They enter the garage and hit the door opener. The double-wide garage door slowly raises and they see a moving truck emblazoned with the Mitolit logo rumble to a stop in front of the house next door.

“It looks like we’re finally getting neighbors,” says Ricky, stating the obvious with a hint of resignation.

“It was bound to happen,” replies Maggie.

“What does it say about our new neighbors that they hired Mitolit?” questions Ricky.

Mitolit Moving was owned by a brash twenty-something college dropout named Aaron Miloitte. He mangled his last name to come up with Mitolit Moving which stood for “Move It or Lose It.” He put an image of himself on every truck with the logo. This truck showed him with clasped fists raised over his head in a victory pose, his flaming red hair flowing off to the right of the company name and logo.

“I’m sure we’ll meet them soon enough and you can ask. Just don’t make it your first question,” says Maggie reproachfully.

Ricky grunts as if he is disagreeing with Maggie, but in reality he knows that he would be likely to ask about their choice in movers earlier than what would be appropriate.

As they watch they see two men slowly exit the truck and amble to the rear, remove the lock, and throw open the sliding door. Their next step is to pull the ramp out of its slot and attach it to the grooves in the truck frame. One of the men climbs up the ramp and begins to untie the secured load. The other man walks to the front door and pulls a key from his shirt pocket.

“It looks like they needed another cup of coffee this morning,” says Ricky.

“Sure does. If they work at this pace it will take all day to unload the truck. And it looks like we may not meet the owners until later. He has a key,” says Maggie as she nods her head in the direction of the man at the front door.

Ricky pulls the ladder off the wall of the garage. “I was going to start with the gutters along the side of the house. Won’t be able to see anything until I move to the front but will let you know if I see anything interesting.”

Maggie takes a small garden shovel, a two-pronged poker, and bottle of weed killer from a shelf. Her task is to start pulling the weeds that have encroached through the seams in the concrete in the backyard patio and sidewalks.

“You better,” says Maggie as she exits the garage and heads to the rear of the house.

Ricky sets up the ladder along the side of the house and carefully climbs up six rungs until he can easily see into the gutter. It is not only full, but densely packed, with leaves from the past year. He loves the shade the large trees around the house provide, but at this moment he would consider cutting them all down.

Clearing the gutter is a slow, monotonous task. Every six feet Ricky needs to climb off the ladder, move it, and re-ascend the ladder to continue throwing leaves to the ground. After finishing the section along the side of the house he goes back to the garage to get a rake and collect the leaves into a neat pile. He then gets the garden hose, attaches it, and again climbs the ladder to spray clean the leaf-free gutter.