“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” I whispered urgently to Emily, whose finger hovered over Mr. Parker’s door bell button.

“Well, it will mostly be you doing this, so remember what we talked,” she reminded me again all business like and pushed the button.

We both jumped a little when a loud cuckoo call reverberated through the house, and I had a hard time keeping from giggling. Really, who has a cuckoo as their door bell? Then we waited.

“Maybe he isn’t ho-” I clenched my mouth shut when footsteps finally announced that Mr. Parker was approaching the door, and my nerves suddenly became all fluttery.

“Oh my,” he said the moment the door was open and he spotted the two of us on his porch. “What a lovely morning, being visited by the two prettiest girls in town. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Mr. Parker always was like that, all over-the-top flowery language and compliments. We liked it, though. He was in his fifties and had graying hair, and he once ran a chain of hardware stores, which he sold after his wife died. He did the odd woodwork job for the community, like restoring the front of the old saloon that still looked like it had two hundred years ago.

“We’re here with a mutually beneficial proposition,” Emily said, standing straight and doing her best professional business woman impression, which might have been more convincing if she didn’t wear a bikini top and boy shorts. “Can we come inside?”

“A proposition?” Mr. Parker said with a chuckle, stood to the side and made a beckoning gesture. “Call me intrigued.”

It was all Emily’s idea. She and her older sister Jules were going to a camp again for the last three weeks of holidays, and she had needled me ever since the last summer holidays to come along. It was expensive, though, and Mom and Dad had immediately told me that they couldn’t afford it right now, not after the bank upped the interest rate on the house by almost three percent. There was a bit of unnecessary drama at that, all of my making, of course, and a few days of being grounded, but Emily kept nagging me, and they finally agreed that I could go if I could save up enough money over the year.

I’m pretty sure they knew all along it was a moot point. Side jobs for fifteen-year-olds weren’t paid royally. Even though I started delivering papers in the morning and helped restock shelves at Mrs. Harding’s grocery whenever she was short on staff, most of the money I earned vanished faster as I could blink. Peer pressure dictated that I indulged in the same little splurges as my circle of friends, be it in the school cafeteria or the mall, and when five excited girls tell you, “Ohmygosh, you just have to get this! This was so totally made for you!” you can’t just ignore them, can you?

Be that as it may, it was April now, and getting hot here in the south, the weather reminding us that summer holidays were mercilessly approaching while I still had only saved a meager hundred dollars, and those were from my grandparents’ Christmas presents, not from any work I did.

“Would you like a lemonade?”

“Sure, Mr. Parker.”

We had decided I let Emily do most of the talking, so I just nodded along and smiled while he took two bottles from the fridge and uncorked them.

“Why don’t we sit down on the back patio?” he suggested.

“That’s perfect,” Emily agreed, and we traipsed after him.

“So, your proposition?” he said once we were seated.

“You have a really large lawn, Mr. Parker,” Emily observed after taking a swig. “It has to be tedious and exhausting to keep it in such a wonderful shape.”

Mr. Parker’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he grinned at her. “Nice opening, Emily. If I still had my shops, I’d already put you on the list as a prospective future sales employee.”

Emily blushed, and I forced myself not to fidget.

“Uhm,” Emily said, thrown off her script for a moment, but she wasn’t in the school’s debate team for naught. “Thank you, Mr. Parker,” she said with a soft giggle. “So you already figured out where this is going. We’re starting up a small business, and our primary service will be mowing lawns. The days are getting hotter already. Instead of sweating and getting itching dust all over your skin, wouldn’t it be so much more comfortable to sit in the shade with a chilled bottle of cider and direct someone else to do the work for you?”

Mr. Parker laughed. “I like your sales pitch, girl. So the two of you are offering to mow my lawn?”

“Actually, it’s Lotta who will do the mowing. She’s the muscle. I’m her manager.”

His laughter bubbled up again, and she looked smug. I, on the other hand, was getting more and more nervous, and my hands grew clammy, because I knew what was about to happen.

“So you’ve made your pitch. I have to admit that I have thought about hiring someone to do the mowing before, but I’ve always dismissed it. I didn’t want strangers in my garden at the odd times. But I like your initiative, and you’ve clearly thought this through. So let’s talk money.”

“We’re billing twenty per hour,” Emily said with a wry grin.

Mr. Parker’s eyebrows of course shot up, and he took a deep breath. “Twenty? Isn’t that an awful lot for a rather menial task?”

“It’s for a good cause, though,” my best friend explained.

“A good cause?”

“To rescue Lotta’s summer holidays. She needs to earn enough to attend summer camp with me. She will be incredibly motivated, and she won’t dawdle. You’ll never find a more motivated employee.”

My cheeks grew hot, and I stared at my sandals.

“Still,” he said, obviously no longer that open to the deal, “twenty is a lot of money in these days. Even a dedicated worker would take about two hours for this lawn. That would be forty dollars at least once a week.”

“There is another compelling argument,” Emily said, giving him a meaningful look. “We have uniforms.”

“Uniforms?” He looked back and forth between the two of us and seemed at a loss.

“Lotta,” Emily prompted, and I felt my blush spread all the way over my body. I had a strong urge to jump up and flee, but Emily recognized it and put her hand on my arm. “Let’s get this deal sealed,” she said and squeezed gently. “Show Mr. Parker the uniform.”

I awkwardly stood up and pushed the lounge chair back without looking at him. My fingers felt like wooden sticks. Mr. Parker had been Emily’s first pick among prospective customers for a reason. I had never realized it, but he always went out of his way to engage us in small talk when we passed his property, and once Emily pointed it out, I noticed too that he was looking at our butts and chests instead of our faces most of the time. Especially when we were in our swimming outfits on particularly hot days.

“Lift up your arms.”

I had somehow completely zoned out, but Emily took the initiative and stepped behind me, gripped the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it up. I raised my arms on auto pilot, and a shiver raced up and down my spine. It was stupid, Emily had pointed that out to me, to be embarrassed about it. People saw me in a bikini all the time. But my head knew that this was different, that I was wearing it especially to give Mr. Parker something to look at, and that was what made it feel different. I felt slutty.

Emily reached around me and undid the button and zipper of my shorts, pushed it down and helped me thread my feet out of them.

I made the mistake of looking at Mr. Parker, who appeared slack-jawed by the turn of events, and I swear, my cheeks were about to melt from the heat.

“Lotta will always wear this uniform when she works,” Emily explained and gently prodded my shoulders. I slowly turned around, trembling a little.

Mr. Parker’s breath hissed for a moment.

Panic gripped me all of a sudden that this too over the top, and I was sure that Mr. Parker was going to ring my parents and tell them that I was standing on his patio in a string bikini with a removable tattoo that read “LOTTA LAWN” on my naked, pale butt cheeks. They were going to ground me forever! I was busted! Why did I let Emily talk me into-

“Twenty per hour, you said?”

“Yes. We have a fixed price.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ladies. How about I hire you for a trial session. If it’s to my liking, we’ll make a lasting deal.”

“That sounds good,” Emily said, then whispered to me, “You can sit down again.”

It was the evening of the day after that. We were lazing around on Emily’s bed, and my emotions were all over the place. I was giddy and excited, having just earned my first forty dollars. I was exhausted from working in the afternoon heat. And I was embarrassed and feeling tingly because Mr. Parker, as expected, watched me work every second. I had just finished telling Emily that I took all of the two hours because I had to stop often and pick up stray things like gardening tools, frisbees and whatnot that littered the lawn.

“That dirty old geezer,” she laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“That stuff wasn’t there yesterday. He put it there so he could see you bend over and stick out your ass. I bet it will be there again next week.”

“Em.” I sat up and pulled my legs to my chest. “Isn’t all this ... I don’t know ... too gross? I mean, he’s getting his rocks off.”

“But that was the plan all along. I bet that the moment we left, he got out his cock and rubbed one out while he thought of you.”

“Ewww!” I said.

“He’s not that bad for over fifty. He works out, and he doesn’t even have much of a belly.”

“Em!” I so didn’t want this picture in my head. I mean, it’s not like I was a prude or ignorant what sex was. We had sex-ed at school, and we had smartphones and got all kinds of nasty pictures and movies sent by our friends. Plus, Emily had nicked raunchy magazines and novels from her older sister and shared them with me. But still. “At least I have a week to get my head around it,” I said with a sigh.

“Oh. About that. I asked him if he could recommend us to other trustworthy neighbors while you were finishing up, and he did. We already have another appointment on Friday.”

My mouth grew dry. “Where?” I asked.

“The Lamonts.”

“What?” I stared at her in disbelief. “But - but you said we’d only ask older single men.”

“I didn’t know that Candice Lamont is Mr. Parker’s sister. He said he’s a thousand percent sure they’d both appreciate our services.”

My head was spinning. Mrs. Lamont was a few years younger than her brother, a tall, lithe, no-nonsense woman. Her husband George was black and even taller. Together, they ran a small shop for fishing equipment on the ground floor of their house.

“Oh my god,” I suddenly gasped. “There are going to be customers around, Em! What if it’s anybody who knows me? I’ll be-”

“Lotta!”

I fell silent when she snapped at me, but I was still panicking.

“The shop’s only open in the mornings and Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons. People know not to go there at other times because the Lamonts are often away to look after their boats and rental equipment.”

“Oh,” I said. “How do you know that?”

“Mr. Parker told me.”

“And - and his sister is okay with it?”

Em looked at me with a strange expression. “From what he said, she will be more than okay with it.”

It was one of the hottest days of April ever. Sweat was pouring in rivers down my body. Two thirds of the Lamonts’ lawn were done by now, and they were standing left and right of me and looking worried.

“We should let her cool down in the shade for a bit,” Mr. Lamont said to his wife, then he turned to me. “We can’t have you die from heat stroke.”

“It’s fine,” I said. I had to be home by five, and I had to shower at Emily’s place and fetch my bike from there. “I’m mostly finished anyway.”

“Stop arguing, young lady,” Mrs. Lamont said sternly and gestured towards the not yet mowed part of the lawn. “That’s still more than half an hour of work.”

I tried to argue again, but more sweat ran down my forehead and into my eyes, stinging me and making me blink.

“Come along,” she said and lead me towards the patio. “You’ve done enough for today.” She nudged me towards one of the sun beds. “Lie down for a moment while George fetches you a chilled lemonade.”

“But I’m not finished yet,” I tried to argue once more. Our calculation was close knit as it was. Even if I got the full forty dollars twice every week, it was just barely enough for the camp fee. I didn’t resist her gentle push on my shoulders though and sat down on the sun bed, then let her tilt me back until all I could do is lie on my back.

“Why are you so adamant?” she asked and sat down on the edge. “The lawn’s not going anywhere.”

I bit my lip. As I said, she was a no-nonsense kind of woman, and the way she looked at me felt like I was back in grammar school and questioned by a teacher why I didn’t bring my homework.

“I - I really need the money,” I admitted. “Summer camp is expensive, and I need to make enough before holidays start so I can sign up in time, and Emila and I decided that we’d only charge for the work that is actually done.”

“I see,” she said and reached across me. “Here.” She handed me a bottle of ginger lemonade.

The cold liquid was wonderful. I almost emptied it in one go, but thought better and left half of it inside. For a moment, it felt like my body was about to sweat out the fresh liquid, but then the coolness spread through my tummy. “Thank you.”

She smiled at me. “You know, Lotta, I might have a solution to your dilemma.” She gave me a wink I didn’t understand at first. “You and Emily, you’re both clever girls, so we don’t have to pretend that this is all about mowing the lawn, and we can admit that both George and I are far more interested in the nice view you provide us than in your special mowing skills.”

I blushed madly, of course. It was one thing to wiggle my naked butt for them while pushing the mower, but a different beast putting things so bluntly.

“You don’t have to blush,” she said, “though it does look cute on you. How about this: we’ll let the rest of the lawn like it is, and for the remainder of your time, you’ll get rid of that sweat-soaked bikini top and just lie here.”

My heart was smashing against my chest from the inside. “You - you mean you...”

“We’d like to spend that time looking at your yummy tits.”

“I - I’m not sure...” I stammered.

“Know what? I’ll give you ten extra if I can remove your top myself.”

I was out of my depths.

“All we will do is look,” Mrs. Lamont said. “It’s not different than when we look at your cute tush, is it?” She held my gaze.

“N-no,” I agreed hesitantly.

“Sit up, honey.”

I froze and stared wide-eyed when she didn’t even try to open the straps but simply ran her hands up my front and wiggled them inside the top, touching my breasts.

“B-but...” I stammered, but I forgot what I wanted to say when her hands started moving in small circles over my sweaty breasts. Her palms rubbed over my nipples, and I felt them grow hard and start to tingle in the same way they did when I played with myself under the covers in my bed.

“There,” she suddenly said and moved her hands further, pulling the bikini top away. I lifted my arms, and a second later, my chest was naked and exposed, and a myriad of emotions washed through my body.

“Oh my, you have beautiful tits,” Mrs. Lamont observed, “don’t you agree, love?”

“Utterly delicious,” her husband said with a nod and pulled a chair close to the sun bed where he sat down.

“It’s easy to see that he enjoys the view,” Mrs. Lamont said to me.

“Uhm. What do you-”

She stood up and walked to him, standing behind him. “That’s what I mean,” she said, running a hand down his tummy.

I realized too late what it was about, so I followed her hand’s movement with my gaze to where her fingers touched the thick bulge in his black swimming tights.

“You don’t mind if I take care of my husband’s condition, do you?” she asked, but she didn’t even wait for an answer. Her fingers slipped under the glossy fabric, and I could see her wrap them around his erection.

I was totally shocked, yet I somehow couldn’t look away. It was outrageous and nasty, but somehow, it was also incredibly sexy. She started working her hand up and down, and the fabric was soon bunched down and I could see the dark, veined, thick cock, and the silken, mushroom-shaped head with a red so dark it seemed almost purple. Mrs. Lamont’s pale fingers contrasted beautifully with it. They skillfully slid up and down and squeezed, drawing deep, rumbling moans from her husband.

“Oh my god,” I heard myself whisper.

“Oh my god!” Mr. Lamont suddenly groaned, and his wife speed up her hand’s motions. Loud slapping suddenly filled the air together with her husband’s breathless grunts, and he started twitching. At the same time, a fountain of whitish liquid erupted from tip of his cock and splattered against his muscular chest. It went on for what felt like a long time, the spurts getting less powerful, until he leaned back with a deep sigh and gripped his wife’s hand, telling her to stop.

“They did what?” Emily asked wide-eyed after I recounted the tle.

“They - they just did it. And I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I couldn’t just jump up and run away, could I?” God, I felt so embarrassed, but Emily had immediately sensed that something was up when she saw the ten dollar tip.

“Describe it to me!” she insisted. “Was it big?”

Fate interfered big time the following Monday. I had earned hundred and seventy dollars by that time and was, despite the lewd adventure with the Lamonts, slowly feeling optimistic that I could actually earn enough to attend camp. But that optimism was shattered when I left school and spotted Dad in our car.

“Hi Dad,” I piped after opening the passenger door. “Dad?”

“Hop in, honey,” he said with a pained expression.

I quickly slid inside and took my pack between my legs, then closed the door. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

“It’s your mother. She had an accident with the bike, and she’s been taken to the hospital.”

“Is - oh god - is she alright?”

“The doctor said she’s lucid and not to worry too much,” Dad said, but I could see that he was just as close to panic as I was.

The drive was short, but it took us almost half an hour to find a parking spot, walk to the doors, find out where Mom was being treated and navigate the labyrinth of corridors.

Dad caught one of the ER nurses, who went to fetch a doctor, who explained to him that Mom was fine with the exception of a broken leg, and that they were already operating it before the swelling could complicate things. They were putting in a metal plate and screws to fix the bone. It was supposedly a clean break and they expected it to heal well, but Mom would have to spend a few days in the hospital, followed by at least a week of staying off her foot. She’d have a cast for about three weeks and take things easy once that came off.

I clung to Dad’s side and tried not to get nauseous with worry.

We had to wait for almost an hour until they wheeled Mom out from surgery. She was pale and exhausted, and seemed a little out of sorts. We stayed with her in the post-op room for about an hour, and she gradually got some color back, but then she asked us to head home and let her sleep, ensuring us that she was fine.

I was shaken from seeing her like that, hooked up to IVs and the visible parts of her leg and foot colored black and blue and stained with disinfectant. The smell clung to my nose.

While Dad went to put frozen pizza in the oven, I texted Emily with the bad news and asked her to cancel next week’s mowing appointments.

The next week was busy. Dad and I rearranged half of the furniture in the house, disassembled the guest bed and put it downstairs into the living room so Mom could stay on one floor. It was a good thing we had a small bathroom downstairs. We went and bought a shower chair and crutches and all kinds of other stuff to make things easier for her.

When she was released from hospital, she looked a lot better, and her leg was in a thick cast. She was even making jokes about her “troll leg”, but she tired easily, and it was easy to recognize when the painkillers stopped working. That’s when she got snappish and impatient.

Dad looked after her in the mornings, and I came home right after school. Suddenly, I had almost all the household chores heaped onto me, and with all the washing, cleaning and cooking, helping Mom to the loo and back, and fetching things for her, I went out like a light once the clock struck ten. Dad had even ordered a wireless bell so Mom could reach him in the night.

The healing went well, but it took still more than a week until the doctor allowed her to take a few steps at a time. With the cast and crutches, she couldn’t do much anyway, and she was often angry and short with me. Dad and I had long talks about it, and I consciously understood that it was a difficult situation for her, and that she didn’t mean it - she always apologized shortly after, anyway - but I was on the skin of my teeth by early June.

“It’s no use,” I sighed and tried not to cry. Em and I were shoulder to shoulder on a blanket in her backyard and staring up at the oak tree above us. “I mean, it’s only four weeks until registration closes, and I’m still short six hundred and thirty. That’s not counting spending money. I’d need to make more than twenty-two dollars a day!”

“Yeah,” Emily agreed. “Mowing lawns isn’t going to do it.”

“I hate it,” I groaned.

“I mean, you could...”

Emily didn’t elaborate. “I could what?” I asked.

“Forget it.”

“No. Out with it!”

She turned to her side to face me and bit her lip. “It’s too crazy,” she said.

“The least you can do is tell me,” I insisted.

“Well, I...” She bit her lip once more. “I mean, I thought that maybe the Lamonts and Mr. Parker might want to do more than just look at you, and that they’d pay more for that...”

I forgot to breathe for a moment. “Em!” I finally gasped. “You - oh god - I’m not a whore! You want me to have sex with them for money?”

“I said it’s too crazy,” she said, sitting up and crossing her arms. “Though I wasn’t thinking about real sex. Just ... touching, you know? Perhaps a little kissing.”

“No way!” I said. “Never!”

I was totally nervous, but Emily’s suggestion didn’t let me go, so I calculated back and forth and up and down, and I thought it might just work. Emily had done the same. And now I was in the Lamonts’ bedroom, and Mrs. Lamont was undressing me while her husband was sitting on the bed and watching us intensely, clad only in black boxers.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Mrs. Lamont whispered into my ear and bared by chest to her husband’s greedy eyes.

“I’m not,” I whispered, but my breath hitched. “A little,” I admitted.

“You’re so beautiful, Lotta,” Mr. Lamont said. “We’ll be very gentle with you. You will love it.”

Somehow, far faster than expected, I was naked, and Mrs. Lamont soon was too. She had large breasts with long, rosy nipples, and she guided my hands to them and smiled at me. “It’s just skin, nothing to be terrified by,” she whispered. “Sensitive skin, yes, and your touch feels incredibly good on them, but just skin.”

They actually felt nice to touch, smooth and soft. She let out a little moan when I rubbed my palms over her nipples like she had done, and I could feel them get harder.

Her hands found my breasts, and she started caressing them too, and I quickly forgot about all my nervousness. “So pretty,” she whispered, and she gently pulled on my nipples, which sent wonderful tingles through my chest. I arched my back and moaned a little too.

“Just like that,” she purred. “Isn’t it nice, my beautiful, sexy Lotta?”

“Yes,” I moaned.

Her hands slid around my and squeezed my buttocks, and my skin there started tingling too. A breathless moan escaped my throat, but it was cut short by her soft lips. It felt completely natural when her tongue gently sneaked it’s way into my mouth. One of her hands held the back of my neck, the other kept caressing my buttocks, and breathless arousal filled my body. Her thigh slid between mine, and the moment it touched my pubes, I totally lost control. All I could think about was to slide my pussy against that smooth thigh, faster and faster, until a breathless, wonderful feeling exploded through my body. I moaned into her mouth and shivered all over in delight.

Embarrassment washed through me once the waves faded. “Oh my god,” I whispered, staring down at her thigh which was smudged with my pussy cream.

“Don’t,” she said and took my cheeks between her hands, tilting my head until I was looking in her eyes. “This was one of sweetest, sexiest things ever. There is no reason to be embarrassed.”

“Really?”

“I promise,” she said honestly, then she pressed a quick kiss on my lips. “Come on,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me to the bed.

I was getting a little nervous again.

Mr. Lamont had taken off his boxers by now, and his cock looked even larger than last time I had seen it. It was surrounded by a nest of shiny black curls. “Do you want me to touch it?” I asked a little hesitantly once I was sitting on the bed.

“I’d love it if you did,” he said. “But we won’t force you to do anything. Only do what you’re comfortable with.”

“I have no idea if I’m doing things right,” I told him.

“You can’t really do anything wrong, honey,” Mrs. Lamont told me.

I tentatively reached out and wrapped my hand around his stiff cock. It was a lot smoother than expected, and very warm. He shivered when I touched it, and once more when gently slid my hand along it.

“Feel free to explore it. Do whatever you feel like,” she whispered, and so I got bold and traced every vein and cranny with my fingertips.

He let out a hissing breath when I touched the thin band of skin on the front of its head, and a small, clear drop of fluid appeared on top. Curious, I touched it and rubbed little circles. It was smooth and slick, and his breath hitched again. I decided that I’d try and emulate what Mrs. Lamont had done last time, so I moved my hand back down, gripped his cock and started moving the skin up and down slowly.

“Oh yes,” he moaned, his gaze becoming unfocused.

I was so taken up in the moment and his intense reaction that I barely noticed that Mrs. Lamont’s hands on my skin at first. But then her fingernails roamed over my pussy lips, which sent wonderful tingles through them, and I moaned too.

“Is it okay like this?” I asked her husband, gently moving my hand up and down.

“It’s wonderful,” he said, breathing hard. “You don’t have to be that gentle, though.”

I squeezed it harder. “Like this?”

“Oh yes!” he groaned.

“I can’t believe this can go into a woman,” I said without thinking. “It’s so big.”

“Wank him faster,” Mrs. Lamont said. Her fingers parted my pussy lips and slid up and down, making my breath hiss. “It can take some work to get it inside, but it’s the most wonderful feeling to be stretched and impaled by a big cock.”

Small explosions of pleasure suddenly shot through my lower body. Her index finger had found my clit and circled it teasingly. “Yes!” I whimpered and finally remembered to speed up my hand’s motions again.

“Yes, Lotta!” Mr. Lamont agreed, his breath speeding up too.

“As fast as you can,” his wife instructed, showing me the correct rhythm by rubbing my clit faster and faster.

A crazy, dizzy feeling took hold of me. All I could think of were these wonderful sensations between my legs and returning them to Mr. Lamont’s cock. He was panting now, just as I was, and our eyes met again. I couldn’t look away. I felt both incredibly powerful that I was responsible for all that desire in his eyes, and completely helpless against my own steadily mounting arousal.

“I’m - oh god, I’m -” I heard myself moan like from far away, when his cock suddenly seemed to become even thicker in my hands, and then I felt it, spurt after spurt of cum gushing through it, shooting vertically up into the air and splattering down my hand and all over his lower body and thighs.

My own body was twitching and jerking, but I concentrated hard on keeping up my hand’s motion, as difficult as it was.

At some point, he stopped shooting, and his cock softened. He guided my hand away, and Mrs. Lamont kissed me. I thought that was it, and all I wanted at that moment was to lie down and cuddle with someone, but suddenly Mrs. Lamont pushed me back and lifted my legs up and outside.

I was too taken by surprise, and a second later, I felt her mouth on my pussy, warm and wet, and my arousal shot up again. I lost all sense of where I was. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed, not even starting to wonder whose hands caressed my breasts. I came again, a hundred times harder than I ever had when I played with myself. Someone screamed, but I couldn’t care. My whole pussy exploded in the most intense pleasure it had ever felt, and the waves shook my body, set my skin on fire and squeezed my nipples wonderfully hard.