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   This material is copyright, 2010, by Uther Pendragon.  All rights
reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one
electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is
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comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at nogardnePrethU@gmail.com
. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public
figures in the background, are figments of my imagination.  Any resemblance
to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.



   Wild Throw Uther Pendragon nogardneprethu@gmail.com

   MF wl

   "I should hang the screens."

   "Hang them tomorrow, Tim.  Today, I need to prepare the garden.  No
sense having a bungalow if you're not going to garden."

   "Somehow, your having to prepare the garden means my having to dig up
the ground."

   "But, darling, I thought you enjoyed doing spade work."

   "You sure talk sexy, Sally, when you're all dressed and going outdoors.
You think you're safe from your husband."

   "Sexy?  That was a totally innocent remark.  'Doctor, you're the one
with the dirty pictures.'"

   "Your last day of total innocence was in kindergarten." Sally thought
that he hadn't much experience with kids if he thought kindergartners were
innocent.  Well, let him keep his illusions.  When they had a kid of their
own, he'd learn.  "Okay," Tim continued, "but I'll get you one day."

   He dug up the sod from the rectangle which would be a garden.  She
smoothed the bare ground and prepared it for the planting tomorrow.  She
got done while he was still cleaning his tools and returning them to the
garage.  She took a shower, dried off, and put on her pink robe.  They'd
once thought pink for her and blue for him was funny.  The robes had lasted
longer than the joke.  As she came out of the bathroom, Tim headed in for
his own shower.

   It was still a nice day; she'd decide on what to wear when they decided
whether to go out or stay in.  It was Saturday, maybe she could persuade
Tim to barbecue.  One of the living-room windows opened onto the porch. 
She opened it and leaned out.  Here, she was hidden enough from the street
that her bathrobe wouldn't shock anybody.  The air smelled of spring and
mown lawns.

   "Tim," she'd heard him behind her, "what about..." she started to turn
around.

   "No.  Stay there." His hand on the middle of her back pressed her down.
She supported herself, and -- from the feel of it -- a good deal of him, on
her elbows on the sill.  "You look quite sexy like that.  Have I ever
mentioned that you have a sexy butt?" Often, but the robe was hardly
revealing.

   Tim took care of that problem.  He flipped the robe up so that his hand
could reach her ass.

   "Tim!"

   "Tell the street, why don't you?" He was right.  Neighbor children were
playing on the sidewalk.  Her head was out the window.  If she whispered he
could claim to not hear; if she spoke much louder, the kids would hear. 
She certainly couldn't be explicit, 'get your hand off my ass.' And, while
she didn't like the situation, he knew what he was doing with that hand.

   He stroked all over each ass cheek, drew a finger along the line joining
those cheeks to her thighs.  Then he held her labia in his hand.  At first,
he was only holding them and squeezing very gently.  Then he rubbed one
against the other.  Finally, his finger stroked between them, moving
forward from the back to just short of her clitoris.  He stroked back.

   "Touch it," she whispered.

   "You'll stay here?"

   "Yes.  Just touch it." His next stroke was slow, agonizingly slow.  But,
when -- months later, it seemed -- he touched it, he lit a fire in her
belly.  Two more of his strokes reached it before that hand left her
completely.

   "Tim!" This whisper might have been audible in the street; but she
needed him, and he was teasing her.

   "Wait a second.  This position is no good." And, then, he was closer
behind her and reaching around the front.  She felt his hand sliding around
her thigh towards her labia.  She also felt him lean over her back and the
length his cock press against the crack between her ass cheeks.  His robe
was obviously open; she could even feel the folds pressed against her
thighs.  She swayed side to side, rubbing his cock with her ass, until his
finger found her clitoris again.  Then she ignored everything else, his
hand on her back, the breeze outside, the discomfort which had been
building from the position.

   A warmth was spreading from her belly.  It had reached her thighs and
her breasts when Tim's other hand reached her breast, too.  He held her
left breast and tweaked the nipple.  She started feeling even warmer.

   "Like that?" he asked.  She nodded vigorously, forming words would take
too much of her attention.  "You'll like this better." Actually, she liked
it less.  His hand left her breast and the finger of the other hand, while
it stayed on her clitoris, became motionless.  He moved a little back from
her ass.  Then she felt his cock beginning to penetrate her vagina.

   "Tim?"

   "Shush.  The neighbors will hear.  You don't want them looking closely
at this." Then he was all the way in.  His hand returned to her breast and
the finger brushed over her clitoris again.  As the warmth spread, the
motions of his hands were joined by slight -- very slight -- motions of his
cock within her.  She pushed back when he came forward and pulled forward
when he pulled back.  Before the warmth claimed all her attention, she
whispered again.

   "Tim, don't waste it." If he came and she stood up -- and she was
already uncomfortable with the position -- all his seed would run out. 
They needed that seed to make a baby.  He might be ready again after
dinner; he might produce some spunk; but that spunk wouldn't contain many
sperm.

   "You'll just have to wait here.  If you're nice to your husband and
apologize for making him slave all day in the garden, he might even share
some of his Thai take-out with you.  We could have dinner on the porch. 
Well, I and half of you...  Damn!"

   This last was because a ball had come bouncing into sight on their front
lawn.  It looked like a small football and came to rest beside the porch to
her left.  Soon a kid came racing after it.  She clutched her robe tight
around her, but Tim didn't pull his hand away.

   "Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs.  Kessel," the kid said.  It was Bobby Dugan from
three doors down and across the street.  "It was a wild throw, and I
couldn't catch it."

   "That's all right, Bobby." Now, if he'd only go away.  If he wouldn't
hear Tim's snort of suppressed laughter.  If he'd go to her left and not in
front of the porch where he could see in.  Thank God, Tim's robe was dark
-- a royal blue.  He'd be hard to see.

   "Where's Mr.  Kessel?"

   "He's inside." She'd meant inside the house, but Tim's shaking from
holding back his laughter showed that he'd taken another meaning.

   "Oh.  What are you doing?" She was being screwed by her husband, but
that was probably not an answer that the Dugans wouldn't appreciate Bobby's
hearing.  And, right then, Tim started tickling her nipple again.  Tim had
no sense of propriety.

   "I'm appreciating the spring weather.  But I didn't want to walk out on
the porch wearing a bathrobe." And now, Tim was stroking her clitoris, too.
It would have felt marvelous if Bobby weren't right there.

   "Oh." Bobby stared at her, finally took the hint, and raced off.  Bobby
was maybe nine, which was much more maturity than Tim was showing.  She
could hear his chuckles.

   But he did know how to push her buttons.  What with his fingers brushing
against nipple and clitoris, his prick filling her and not moving, even the
situation, she was turned on.  The warmth in her belly expanded and grew
hotter.  It turned to fire when he began slow strokes in and out.

   She clamped her jaw shut to keep from crying out as the fire consumed
her.  She clutched around his prick and her whole body went through spasm
after spasm.

   Her next consciousness was of being pushed further out the window and
pulled back.  Tim was driving against her and shoving her away by his grip
on her thighs.  He shoved her all the way out, and the only thing keeping
her from losing her balance was his pressure on her legs as he pulsed
inside her.  She caught at the window sill to support her as he suddenly
relaxed.

   "Tim, don't," she whispered anxiously.  He popped out anyway when he
pulled away.  She heard him stumble and catch his balance.

   "Stay like that.  You'll spill it." But she backed out of the window and
stood up.  She ignored the juice flowing down her legs to tie the robe
around her.  Then she lowered the window all the way.

   "I'm not sure I want a child with your genes.  You are vicious." She
headed for the bathroom.  She'd use his washcloth to rinse off her thighs.

   The end Wild Throw Uther Pendragon nogardneprethu@gmail.com

   An earlier story about Tim and Sally:
/~Uther_Pendragon/story/spin.htm "Spin Cycle"

   The index to almost all my stories:
/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm