Her large inhale flows through her body, and the day’s stresses break free. Despite the warm night, the air is refreshing compared to her home’s sweltering interior. The conditions are a trigger and she walks to the back yard, takes a sip from her glass, and sits back on the lounge.He hears her steps into the back yard and his attention runs high. A minute later smelling her cigarette, he relocates to the fence line to catch a view through the slats.The previous two times he watched, she was in her hammock on the upper deck, which was easier to spy. He couldn't see anything graphic, but her bare thighs and legs draped over the sides of the hammock gave him enough to focus. He lost it both times when he recognized her hips rocking through the hammock cloth as she reached the end.“Oh my!” he breathes to himself. He is able to see her through the slats as she reclines on the lounge. She’s taking a drag with one hand, and her other pinches her nipple through the tank top. He’s quickly. The one on the left was even screwed to the wall, so there was very little chance of pulling any of them back and approaching from the side.The only way to look behind the washing machine was to bend over it. Upper body flat across the top. Her rear hanging over the side.Like being bent over a barrel.Realizing this, she finally pulled her elbow from his big hand. “Very well,” she said curtly, angry at him for goading her, angry at herself for taking his bait so easily, and even angry at this stupid, loud, expensive machine that had offered him another opportunity to be by himself and play with valves and suchlike for the entire Saturday morning.Leaning over and lowering herself on top of the washing machine, she felt almost like she had mounted a living beast. One who was heavier and bigger than she. The machine rumbled and bucked rhythmically underneath her, the vibrations tickling in her belly. She tried to ignore it, stood on her tiptoes to come all the way forward and shone the.
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