Please enjoy this excerpt from my short story, The Service Project.
We passed the word around the quorum that week that we’d meet Saturday morning to take care of Sister Claire’s yard. It was met with the usual half committed grumbles and litany of excuses. Come Saturday morning, I found myself pushing my lawnmower down the sidewalk to Sister Claire’s house. When I arrived, I was the only one there. I waited for Mormon Standard Time to come and go, which it did. I eventually reached over and started up the lawn mower. It’s always a risky thing, starting up a lawnmower early on a Saturday. I could hear a dozen people roll over angry in their beds, their weekend sleep in ruined by some putz eager to get a move on with the yardwork. But there I was.
Let me tell you, I was the model of pure sexiness. I was wearing my old sneakers, the ones I used every Saturday to mow my own lawn. The bottom portion of which had become so stained with grass that I think they were grass. To compliment my shoes, I had white tube socks nearly to my knees, some khaki cargo shorts and a grey t-shirt from my work that had been stained the last time I’d painted my house. Finally, a Utah Jazz hat from the Stockton and Malone era was on my head. Lady slayer indeed! At least I’d showered.
I soon finished the front yard. I became speckled with grass clippings as I dumped them clumsily in some bags I’d brought. I moved around the side of the house and opened the gate. There stood what had to be the largest backyard in our neighborhood, peppered with dog crap. No rest for the wicked! So off I went. I enjoy mowing the lawn. It gives me some time to think. I kept looking at the back of the house. There’s something strange and intimate about being in a stranger’s backyard. It’s like standing in their house. The blinds to the house were firmly closed, but once or twice I saw them move out the corner of my eye like someone was peeking out of them. Eventually, the back door opened and out stepped Sister Claire. I groaned deep inside myself at what I saw.
She was wearing a pair of Batman pajama pants and had on a pink t-shirt. It was obvious that she was not wearing a bra although I only had a second or two to notice before she wrapped a gray bathrobe over herself. I waved to her and she waved back. She sat down on the back steps with her knees up to her chest. The back was south-facing and it looked like she just wanted to soak up the sun. She lifted her chin with her eyes closed. She was beautiful.
It was a good thing that her eyes were closed because that line of the lawn was super crooked. I went back over trying to fix it and failed again. I think she peeked because she looked like she was trying to stifle a giggle. I persisted and eventually finished the yard. I was hot and sweaty and filthy. I knew I’d stepped in dog crap at least twice. I was unpleasant. She was radiant.
“Do you want a drink?” She asked. I was impressed with the casualness of her voice. She spoke to me like we’d been friends for a decade.
“Yes, please.” I gasped trying not to sound too out of shape. She went back inside and I averted my eyes once I saw her butt jiggle freely in her pajama pants. She was clearly not wearing any underwear. I groaned with self-restraint as I struggled to get a hold of my thoughts. I was sweating like a pig when she came out. The glass of water was cool and tasty. She smelled like mango body lotion and I was at once made hyper-aware of my own stench. I choked on the water as I handed it back losing the last ounce of my dignity.
I had noticed that some tall weeds were growing up around the fence line and the mower couldn’t reach them. “I can get those weeds. I just need to go back and get my trimmer,” I said.
“You can use mine. It’s in the garage. You wait here and I’ll bring it out.” When she came back out she had ditched the robe and her big breasts swung free under her light t-shirt. I felt my penis begin to stiffen in my cargo shorts. She came up to me and handed me the trimmer, her sweet mango scent traveled before her. “Here you go.” As she left her right breast gave the tiniest brush against the knuckles of my hands as they firmly grasped the trimmer. So light that I had to decide if it was real or not. If it was real, was it an accident? My penis gave another swell in my pants. She told me that I could bring in back in when I was finished.
I set to work trying to lose the lust that had been kindled inside me in the work. I whacked the crap out of those weeds! No yard in the whole ward looked as good as that one did by the time I was finished. It was a job well done indeed. I dumped the clippings and clean up my area. I guess I had to go back in and put the trimmer away. Walked to the back door and timidly opened it. The air inside was cool and smelled clean. I took off my dirty shoes and left them on the back stairs.
As I stepped inside my eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. Her house had more or less the same floor plan as my own, just in mirror image. Her dog gave a lame bark and then sauntered up to me for a sniff.
“Hello?” My voice echoed through the mostly empty house. It was clear she wasn’t done unpacking. Or maybe she had and just didn’t have many things to bring with her. I found what must have been the garage door and opened it. Sure enough. The garage. I found a logical place for the trimmer and set it there. I came back inside to the kitchen. On the counter was the glass I had been offered outside. It was still cool and had sweated on the counter with condensation. I drank it again. Where was Sister Claire?
“Sister Claire?” I called. “I’ve finished.” There was no answer. I could hear the water running upstairs from where I guessed the bathroom must have been. I’m not sure what really compelled me to do it. I could have gone home just then. I should have. I know it was the lust fire that had been kindled inside me. I gingerly stepped over to the stairs and began to slowly go up. What was I thinking?! What if you get busted? If I get busted I’m just coming up to let her know I’m on my way and that I didn’t steal her trimmer.
As I crept up the stairs, the sound became more apparent that she was in the shower. I should really go, I thought. There was really no excuse if I got busted then. But the door to the bedroom was open. I could smell the soap scented steamy air. Her master bathroom was just in there around the corner. I walked in. Her bedroom at least was well furnished. The bed was a king and in a beautiful sleigh frame. She had matching maple furniture sets. The shower scent was heavenly. Her soap must have been expensive. I inched forward and came around the corner.
Her shower was the same as ours, but more modern. It had tall glass walls and I could see straight in. Her back was turned to me. Her perfect blonde hair was dark and wet and slicked back. Her back had some muscle tone to it, but it was soft and feminine. Her shoulders were lightly freckled. Her skin was milky pale but made pink from the hot water. The water ran down her spine to her bottom which billowed out in a big juicy peach of a butt. She had a few light freckles across her cheeks. They were shiny from the water and bright pink from the heat. Her legs were shapely and well-toned. I wondered what sport she did, but that curiosity was swallowed up in lust for the moment.
She was washing her face and as she rubbed vigorously her butt waved and jiggled with the motion. The water dripped off the underside of her cheeks. It was delicious to look at. She turned around with her eyes closed tight against the water. Her breasts were just as large as they appeared to be fully clothed. There were faint tan lines on her breasts showing evidence that at one time she must have worn a bikini. Her stomach was flat but there were faint stretchmarks evident on her lower belly. Proof of her motherhood. Her nipples were much darker than you would think from someone so pale. They were perfectly round and as big as silver dollars. The water poured off of them and they too swayed with each scrub of her hands. She had a faint blonde bush of tightly curled hair over her sex. It was wet and held beads of water in the curls. You could see the vertical slit beneath them. Her quadriceps were well defined and her hip bones showed faintly.
I was ram-rod hard and was lost to the world. I was brought thundering back when she opened her eyes and saw me standing dumbly there. She looked frightened for a moment and instinctively covered her breasts, though she left her bush uncovered. She spat a tiny stream of shower water from her mouth. We stood there in stunned silence for a minute. I reached down and covered the bulge in my shorts. . .
Read the whole thing here:
Latter-Day Confessions Sinful Shorts: The Service Project
PDF download of Latter-Day Confessions Sinful Shorts: The Service Project.