Sometimes watching is enough to be turned on – 01

This Story is part of Watch me Series

A great Exhibitionist & Voyeur story under the series – “watch you” called ‘ Sometimes watching is enough to be turned on’ is here. Let’s begin…

Note: Now that enough years have passed, I can safely and affectionately share this story. For purposes and requirements, all characters in the story are over the age of 18. I have made every attempt to recollect this story as accurately as possible, preferring to leave out anything I am not sure of as opposed to including it just for the sake of trying to write an erotic story. I hope you enjoy it. Obviously, the names have likewise been changed to protect identities.

We called her Mrs. Ann, or at least I did anyway. She was also known as the quiet lady, primarily because she was a bit of a recluse. I knew very little about her, and most of that coming from my parents when I had actually been required to apply for the privilege of mowing and trimming her yard.

And don’t laugh, every year she reviewed potential candidates for the spring-summer-fall long job of doing that. So it was, just because you mowed her yard one year, didn’t mean you’d get to do so again the next year. I am sure that the fact she paid extremely well, well above the normal, is why my friends and I, amongst others, actually went through the yearly routine. Age didn’t really matter, if you could do the job, and do it correctly according to her standards; she was willing to pay for it.

I knew only that her husband had been killed many years before. Though I never learned how that had come about. I also knew she didn’t have any children, and after the death of her husband, never wanted any…and never remarried either. And I honestly found that sad as she was a very attractive woman, at the time…somewhere in her early to mid fifties back then. I remember she had just a touch of gray to her dark auburn hair and made no attempt to color it, content to let it turn naturally.

She wore it in a small ponytail most of the time, and I rarely recall seeing her wear her hair in any other style. I also remember we were pretty close to the same height, and though I eventually grew another inch or so, at the time I’d guess she was about five foot seven or so.

Mrs. Ann (though in time I would come to know her as Helen) was what I guess you would call a medium built woman. Far from slim, and equally far from being overweight, though an obvious telltale bit of extra in her frame, depending on whatever clothes she was wearing at the time. I’ll save the description for the more intimate and personal stuff later.

This was actually my second year mowing and trimming for her, though there had been a year in between that, when someone else actually did it besides me. I often wondered if she did that on purpose to keep any one person from thinking they had the job locked up. Though I seriously believe, I did a better job of it than anyone else did. It even got to the point that I went out of my way (and time) to go the extra bit, which I now know she appreciated very much.

It was well into the late spring, early summer when things took a really interesting turn, and in many ways, had a significant impact on my life.

I had as usual gone over early to begin mowing long before it would get very hot. Already the skies were promising a bit of rain, so I was likewise in hopes of getting the yard mowed before the expected downpour came. I had barely finished mowing when the rain came. Promising Mrs. Ann to return later in the day to finish up with the trimming because of it. She told me not to bother until it was totally dry, even if that meant coming back the following day. I soon headed home, which was about three or four blocks away by bike, and no more than a good ten or fifteen minute distance between us.

Although the rain was already starting to let up some by the time I arrived home, it promised to be a daylong drizzle at the very least, accompanied by some fairly serious thunder and lightning. I had actually changed into dry clothes when it hit me. I had left out the trimmer in the rain, forgetting to put it away before I left. Something like that was apt to blackball me if I hadn’t been already, from returning again the next year.

Once more, I headed back to her place as fast as I could in the hopes that perhaps she wouldn’t have noticed that yet. I could even safely park my bike on the side of the garage, and then enter in that way (as the door was always unlocked) and then grab the trimmer which I’d left leaning against the work shed, put it away inside, and hopefully leave without ever being found out.

Everything went according to plan until I walked around the backside of the garage and the attached work shed. I froze in place, disbelief of what I was currently looking at, turning me into stone. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

There was a small L-shaped porch that ran along the backside of the house. The awning was just enough to protect from most of the rain, which is why I guess I had made a major mistake in coming back when I did. Mrs. Ann was sitting in one of her lawn chairs watching the storm, in particular the sound of thunder and lightning (as she’d explained later to me) which was something she had always been fascinated with.

The problem was…she was entirely naked, sitting there while doing so. And maybe that would have been bad enough, actually walking around the corner not expecting to find her sitting there like that, but it just so happened, that she had her legs propped up in the chair, spread pretty widely, and one hand busy between her legs, the other at the moment cupping one of her rather full pendulous looking breasts.

Like I said. Our eyes locked for a brief second as my mind tried to retake control over my body and signal me to flee. And I would have done so, had she not called out to me when she did.

Sometimes watching is enough to be turned on – 01 will continue in the next page.

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