
Disclaimer:  Don˙ffff92t read this if you˙ffff92ve got a lot of work to 
do.  You˙ffff92ll just end up doing it all later, with less time to 
spend.

                       Mowing the Lawn
                            1/2

                             by
                         OddManOut

I have always hated grooming my yard.  It˙ffff92s what sets me apart 
from everyone else in my neighborhood.  I tell them it˙ffff92s because I 
want a "natural" look, but the real reason is that I just don˙ffff92t 
see the point.  Why should I shell out a few hundred bucks for a machine 
that will chop off my toes, annoy my neighbors, and spew more toxic 
fumes into the air than the tailpipe of a car?

Of course, I couldn˙ffff92t hold out forever with this mentality.  I may 
not have cared about the yard, or the general neighborhood disapproval, 
but Sheila did, and I ended up getting a lawnmower.  Not an expensive 
one:  That was my rebellion.  I got an old bargain machine at a yard 
sale for 40 bucks.  Sheila laughed when she saw it, and asked if I was 
still concerned about safety, noise, and pollution.  No matter.  I had 
bought this thing so that I could make it fail.

And fail it did.  The first time I mowed the lawn, the engine conked out 
three times from being shoved through the tall grass.  Thereafter, I 
always made it a point to wait until the grass was tall before mowing 
again, so as to put more of a strain on the engine.  I also got the idea 
of intentionally running over sticks and small stones, but this idea was 
reconsidered when a small piece of wood got spewed out of the motor onto 
my shin, making a gash three inches long and plenty deep.  And when I 
got the bandage on, Sheila still made me go out and finish the lawn.

I didn˙ffff92t have to wait long for my plan to take effect.  Barely a 
month after its purchase, the lawnmower died for good.  I was shoving it 
through a large thatch of grass when it suddenly lost power and began to 
spew out plumes of oily blue smoke.  I shut it off and put it back in 
the garage, then went in the house and told Sheila that it had broken.

>From then on, whenever Sheila would remind me that the lawn needed 
mowing, I would be able to say, "I can˙ffff92t, honey, the 
lawnmower˙ffff92s still broken."  Then I would go back to reading the 
paper, or watching the game, or just unwinding on the porch.  Sheila 
would remind me that the mower had been broken for XXXXX days, and that 
we would need to get it fixed, and I would say either 1.)  "Honey, 
I˙ffff92m too busy this weekend to take it in to the shop," 2.) "Honey, 
it˙ffff92s probably going to cost a lot to fix, and we don˙ffff92t have 
the money for that right now," or 3.) "Honey, I called the shop.  They 
said I can˙ffff92t bring it in this weekend, because they˙ffff92re too 
busy right now."

My plan was brilliant, except for one factor I hadn˙ffff92t foreseen:  
Two weeks after our mower broke, Sheila got the idea of asking one of 
our neighbors, the Fredericks, to lend us their machine.  By this time, 
our grass was a good four inches high, and they were glad to be of 
assistance, just to see our yard assimilated back to the two-inch 
neighborhood standard.  Once again, I trudged over the yard, pushing the 
damn mower, and missing the first quarter of the Niners game.  At least 
our neighbors˙ffff92 mower had a bag, so I didn˙ffff92t have to rake 
clippings.

I suppose I could have gotten around the problem by breaking this mower 
as well, but my conscience kept me from destroying the property of 
others in pursuit of my own laziness.  So I treated it nicely and pushed 
it back to driveway outside the Fredericks˙ffff92 house.

When I rang the bell, the door was answered by Katie, our 
neighbors˙ffff92 daughter.  Katie was seventeen year old junior in high 
school.  She was on the track team, and the Fredericks had invited 
Sheila and I to come watch her meets many times.  She was a very fast 
runner.  Today she was dressed in baggy sweatpants and a big old 
T-shirt, but I had seen her run enough times to know that the pants hid 
a fantastic pair of strong, tan legs, and that the breasts beneath the 
shirt were both large and firm.  Judging from the way I could see them 
move, I guessed that Katie wasn˙ffff92t wearing a bra this morning.

"Hi, Mr. Grabel!"  She said, leaning against the doorframe.  "Are you 
here to return the mower?"

"Yes,"  I answered, somewhat out of breath.  The worst thing about 
mowing my yard is that since I don˙ffff92t do it very often, the tall 
grass makes pushing the lawnmower that much harder.  It˙ffff92s a 
vicious circle, really.  

Katie saw my worn-out state and said "You look exhausted.  Do you want 
some lemonade?"  I agreed readily, and she let me into the house.  I 
stood in the foyer, afraid to move lest I drip sweat on anything, but 
Katie beckoned me to follow her into the kitchen in the back of the 
house.  When I came into the kitchen, I found a chair that didn˙ffff92t 
look too fancy and sat down as she poured me a large glass of lemonade.

I accepted the drink gratefully, and took a long sip as she put the jug 
back in the fridge.  I admired her butt through the sweatpants as she 
bent over to put away the lemonade.  I knew I shouldn˙ffff92t have 
looked, but how could anyone not look at a butt as fine as hers?  I was 
able to pull my eyes away by the time she stood up and closed the door.

"Thanks for the drink."  I said.  "When you get as old as me, doing 
these types of things can really get you exhausted."  Katie laughed when 
she heard this.  "I can˙ffff92t believe that, Mr. Grabel.  How old are 
you, 28?"  "36," I replied, "but thanks.  And call me Brad.  Calling me 
Mr. Grabel makes me feel even older."

"OK."  She said, cocking her head to the side a little.  "It˙ffff92s not 
so bad to seem older, Mr. G˙ffff97I mean Brad.  I don˙ffff92t see any 
problem with that at all."  I was a little confused.  What did she mean 
by that?  "Well, maybe you don˙ffff92t have any problem with it, but I 
do.  There˙ffff92s a lot of things that I could do in high school that I 
can˙ffff92t do anymore."

"Like what?"  She said.

"Well˙ffff85"  I started, but stopped for a second to think.  I *did* 
have some examples, but most of them were things you weren˙ffff92t 
supposed to talk about with your neighbor˙ffff92s teenage daughter.  
"Well, I was able to mow the lawn and not get this tired.  And my lawn 
back then was bigger than my lawn now."

Katie was not impressed.  "So?  Maybe you just need to do it more often.  
I mow our lawn every week.  It keeps me in shape.  See?"  She pulled up 
the bottom of her T-shirt and invited me to look at her midriff.  I did.  
It was very flat, and very tan.  I could see a slight tan line just 
above where her sweatpants met her waist.

"That˙ffff92s true," I said, "but you also do some running, so you have 
an excuse to stay in shape.  Why should I stay in shape?  I˙ffff92m 
supposed to be settled down now."  Katie looked at my body appraisingly.  
"Mrs. Grabel doesn˙ffff92t mind if you˙ffff92re out of shape?"

That stuck.  "Of course she doesn˙ffff92t!"  I said it a little too 
quickly.  Sheila *had* been inviting me to come to the gym with her 
lately, but if mowing the lawn was pointless, then paying $20 a month to 
walk on a treadmill is just stupid.  I knew Sheila was going to win on 
that one anyway:  Ever since she had started working out again, she had 
become more active in bed.  I would have to start going with her just so 
I could keep up with her afterwards.

Katie shrugged her shoulders.  "If I was married to a guy, I˙ffff92d 
make sure that we were always fit.  I hate guys that are out of shape.  
They get so out of breath.  Oh, sorry Mr.--  Oops, I mean, sorry Brad."

"None taken." I said, lying just a little bit.  "Do you make sure your 
boyfriend doesn˙ffff92t stay in shape?"  I assumed he would be just as 
much as a jock as she was.  But instead of answering me, she looked away 
slightly, and shook her head.  "I don˙ffff92t have a boyfriend."

This confused me.  "Why not?  You˙ffff92re gorgeous.  Any guy would want 
you."  I was definitely on the wrong track, because as soon as the words 
were out of my mouth, tears welled up in her eyes and she ran out of the 
kitchen.  I followed her, instantly sorry of whatever I had done.  Katie 
was a genuinely nice girl, and I didn˙ffff92t want to just leave her 
with her feelings hurt.

I looked around the house for her, and stopped by the closed door to her 
room.  Listening closely, I could hear the faint sounds of crying coming 
from within.  I knocked gently.

"Katie?"  I called.  The crying stopped for a second, and I could hear a 
couple of sniffs, but she didn˙ffff92t answer.  "Katie?  Is it all right 
if I come in?"  There was still no answer from inside the room.  I 
didn˙ffff92t want to burst in on her, but I didn˙ffff92t want to just 
leave her in her condition, either.  "Katie," I said, "I˙ffff92m going 
to come in now, and just tell me to go away if you don˙ffff92t want 
that."  I gave her a good five seconds to reply, then I gently opened 
the door.

Katie was slouched on the bed, looking away from me.  She gave a loud 
sniffle as I walked towards her.  "Katie," I said, "why don˙ffff92t you 
tell me what˙ffff92s going on?  I didn˙ffff92t mean to hurt your 
feelings."

"It˙ffff92s not your fault, Mr. Grabel," she said to the wall, 
"it˙ffff92s just that there aren˙ffff92t any boys that want me."  I was 
dumbfounded.  Katie was gorgeous, with long legs and arms and a long 
thing face that still managed to be cute.  She still had the awkwardness 
of a seventeen year-old, but she was a lot better looking than any girl 
I remembered going to school with.  I decided I needed to impress upon 
her how pretty she was.

"Katie, I just don˙ffff92t see how that could be true.  You˙ffff92re 
young, you˙ffff92re in great shape, you˙ffff92ve got a great 
body˙ffff97"

"What˙ffff92s so great about my body?"  She asked softly.  Uh oh.  I 
stammered for a few seconds before I decided that it was best to be 
honest with her.

"Well, Katie, you˙ffff92ve got great legs.  You˙ffff92re a runner, so 
that˙ffff92s just natural.  All runners have great legs.  But your upper 
body is really nice too.  You˙ffff92ve got a nice tan, and your arms 
look like they˙ffff92re really strong˙ffff85"  I held out my hand 
towards her upper arm, "May I?"  Katie allowed me to test her biceps, 
and I continued as I stroked and massaged her arm.  "You˙ffff92ve got a 
really strong arms, Katie, and that˙ffff92s really attractive, you 
know."

She shook her head and shifted her gaze from the wall on the other side 
of her to the window in front of her.  "Boys don˙ffff92t like that.  All 
the boys on track are going out with soft girls."

"That can˙ffff92t be true.  None of your girlfriends on track have 
boyfriends that work out?"  She stopped and thought for a second.  "OK, 
so some of the guys like track girls, but they˙ffff92ve already got 
girlfriends.  The rest of them don˙ffff92t like girls like me."

"Well, what about other boys?"  I countered.  I had moved down her arm, 
and was now massaging her hand in my own.  She gave my hand a little 
squeeze and said, "I don˙ffff92t know any other boys."

"Sure you do,"  I countered, "What about boys in your classes?  
Aren˙ffff92t there any that seem interesting?"  Done with massaging her 
hand, I gently tried to pull my hand away, but she held me fast and 
shook her head, looking at the floor.  "They˙ffff92re all jerks.  They 
never talk to me."

I pulled my hand from her grasp and began to rub her shoulder.  
"That˙ffff92s because they˙ffff92re afraid of you, Katie."  She looked 
at me in terror.  "They are?"  "No!  No!  I didn˙ffff92t mean it that 
way.  I mean they˙ffff92re afraid to talk to you.  They all think 
you˙ffff92re too pretty, and aren˙ffff92t interested in them."  "How do 
you know that, Mr. Grabel?"  She stared at the floor.

I paused a second, hesitant to proceed, then said, "Because that˙ffff92s 
the way I was in high school, and I know I would have been terrified to 
talk to you."  "Why?"  "Because you˙ffff92re gorgeous!  If you ignored 
me, I would have been crushed.  It was a lot easier to talk about how 
cool it *would* be to talk to you with my friends."

Katie smiled slightly, a definite plus.  "Do you really think I˙ffff92m 
pretty, Mr. Grabel?"

"Yes," I said, "and call me Brad."  "Thank you, Brad."  She said, and 
leaned over to give me a kiss.  It was a very chaste kiss, just a quick 
smack on my lips, but I was very quickly becoming hard.  I felt it was 
time to leave and began to get up, but Katie grabbed my arm.  "Could you 
stay with me a little while longer, Brad?  I really like talking to 
you."  If only she knew how much I liked talking with her.  Her grip on 
my arm was light and warm, but it was also firm, and I sat back down, 
slouching a little bit to hide the growing bulge in my pants.

"Brad," she said, "if boys are so afraid of me, then how can I get them 
to talk to me?"  I thought for a second.  "How about going up and 
talking to one of them?  You know?  Just pick out a guy you think is 
really cute, or really nice, and go up and talk to him about something."  
"Like what?"  "I don˙ffff92t know, like classes.  You can talk to him 
about classes, can˙ffff92t you?  And just go from there.  And if 
you˙ffff92re really daring, you can ask him out."

"No way!"  Katie giggled, making her breasts quiver.  "I can˙ffff92t do 
that!"  "Sure you can," I said.  My erection was now beginning to cause 
problems.  "It˙ffff92s just like when you kissed me a minute ago.  Just 
do it."

"Okay."  Katie said, and she leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth 
again.  I had meant that she should just ask the boy out, but I 
didn˙ffff92t mind the way she interpreted me.  This kiss was longer and 
slightly harder, and I could taste her lips as they met mine.  Katie 
drew back and looked at me with an odd expression on her face.

"Brad?"  "Yes, Katie?"  "Do I kiss okay?"  Now I was in deep water.  
"Yes, I think so.  It was a little intimate for a friendly kiss, but it 
was very nice."  She pouted a little.  "I know how to give friendly 
kisses.  Could˙ffff97"  she stopped, and let the silence hang in the 
air.  "Yes, Katie?"  I prompted her.

In a small voice, she said, "Could you show me how to make out?"  I 
should have left the room right then, but I couldn˙ffff92t.  Katie was 
staring at me, her eyes wide, and it looked like she was about to break 
down and cry if I said anything other than "yes."

"Yes,"  I said.  "What would you like to know?"

"Well,"  Katie bit her lower lip.  "How do you kiss when you make out?  
I made out with a boy once, and he said I kissed funny."

I thought about that.  "Well, what did you do, Katie?"  "Here, 
I˙ffff92ll show you."  She leaned towards me, puckered her lips, and 
placed them right on mine.  And held them there.  I tried moving my lips 
around to return the kiss, but she held her position.  I gently pulled 
my head away.

"Well, Katie, I think one thing is that you need to relax your lips 
more.  Just a little bit.  Keep them thrust out, but the lips themselves 
soft.  Here, feel my lips."  I puckered, and Katie lifted a finger to my 
mouth.  I kept the outside very soft, and slightly moist.  When she 
pushed, her finger was able to slide into my mouth slightly.  Before I 
realized what I was doing, I applied some suction, and drew her finger 
in even more, licking it softly with my tongue.  Katie smiled a bit, and 
drew her finger out.  Then she tried pursing her lips like I had, and 
leaned in for the kiss.

I could smell her shampoo, and a little bit of her sweat.  I figured 
that she must have worked out earlier today.  Our lips were much softer 
against each other now, and much more sensitive.  I sucked in a little, 
and she sucked back, sealing the bond between us.  We held that position 
for a while, then I tried to snake my tongue into her mouth.  Katie 
jerked back with a giggle, and looked at me like I was crazy.

"You didn˙ffff92t like that?"  I  said.  She didn˙ffff92t say anything, 
but kept looking at me, noticing that my now-huge erection was causing a 
very visible bulge in my shorts.  Then she leaned back in and kissed me 
again.  This time we both opened our mouths, and her tongue met and slid 
over mine as we sucked ourselves together.  She placed her hand on my 
leg lightly as we kissed and began to run her nails over my thigh.  I 
gave a desperate thought of Sheila, but it evaporated as I slid my hand 
from her back to her right breast.

I squeezed her through her shirt, feeling the double-smoothness of shirt 
and skin fall away from my fingers.  Katie froze when I did this, and 
looked me in the eye.  She didn˙ffff92t tell me to stop.  I trailed my 
hand down her T-shirt to her waist, then put my hand under the shirt and 
rested it on her stomach.

"Usually, when you make out with a boy, he will try to go as far as he 
can with you,"  I whispered in her ear.  "For instance, just now you let 
me feel your breast through your shirt, but I want to feel the bare 
skin."  Katie˙ffff92s breath quickened as I slid my hand up to the soft 
mound and found the nipple.  I rolled it in my hand, tweaking it 
slightly.

As I played with her breast, her hand became tight against my thigh.  I 
leaned forward and whispered "You can feel me up too, if you want."  As 
I moved my mouth back to hers, she slid her hand up my thigh and under 
my shorts, until it was inches from my crotch.  She stroked my inner 
thigh very slowly and deliberately as I continued to play with her 
breast.  I was exploring the inside of her mouth with my tongue, running 
it along the ridges of her teeth gently.

Continued in Part 2...
"It is only the great men who are truly obscene.  If they
 had not dared to be obscene, they could never have dared
 to be great."
-Havelock Ellis
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