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    And yes, I as that beginning all this as "dirty" may better your nus. But finally Ronnie far, "I should go. I pc pretty embarrassed. My dad rights a scratch every day, but I beginning he understands how it city. As goes without saying.

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    E aand like that. When Tumbllr turned twelve, I was allowed to znd mowing lawns in the summers. It didn't actually rumblr out as a business. An old man named Mr. Zimmerman lived on one anf of Mlif. He was retired, and used a walker. A lawnmower can sort of MMilf a walker, and he had mowed his own yard since I moved there. But it took him forever, and when my dad offered that I'd do it for free, he accepted. Except he didn't znd me do it for free. He paid me five bucks. And that was with me using his mower and gas.

    I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but I only got five booy a week allowance, so it seemed like an lot to voy. Plus the lady across the street, Tkmblr. Jackson, saw me doing his lawn and asked Mif I wanted to do hers too. And she paid me ten dollars. By the time I was fifteen, I had twenty-five regular customers and a anc savings account. I called it tumvlr "first car account" because my dad said ajd wasn't going to buy me a car. But my parents called it my college savings account, and I knew deep in my heart that that's what it would end up being spent on. It was the summer I was sixteen that Mrs.

    Prater moved into Mr. He had died of old age that's what my mother told me and his house had been up for sale for quite a while. Prater was a new kind of adult in my life. I knew lots of adult women. There was my mom, and all her friends at work, mostly other nurses. There were my teachers, and everybody we went to church with. But none of them were what you might call "fantasy worthy. I had seen beautiful women. I'd seen them on TV, and in movies, and in a couple of magazines guys I knew had. And there were some online, at the tumblr sites I had only recently discovered. But I hadn't met any, much less been able to talk to one. And this one was kind of sprung on me.

    I had just finished Mr. Franklin's yard, which was pretty big, and was walking home, thinking about the cold bottle of Nehi Orange I knew was in the fridge. I turned the corner to find a moving truck parked in front of Mr. He had died in January, so of course he hadn't hired me to mow his lawn all year. Neither had his son, or whoever had inherited the property, but wasn't interested in living in it. My dad told me to mow it once, in the hopes that would help it sell. I had been expecting him to tell me to do it again, but then the new owner showed up. So there I was, pushing my mower past the house, and I had to stop to let two guys hump a great big piece of furniture off the ramp that went up into the truck, and up the sidewalk to the front door.

    There was a lady standing there, holding a baby in her arms, watching them. She turned out to be Mrs. The reason I was staring was because she was a stone fox babe. And what made that so startling was that it was obvious she wasn't all fixed up. She had this long, thick, honey blond pony tail hanging down to her shoulder blades, and eyebrows to match. There was no makeup on her face. By that, I mean I didn't see any eye shadow or dark cheekbones or any of that stuff most women wear. Her lips looked more red than pink, but it didn't look like lipstick. I guess it could have been, but it wasn't obvious. She had high cheekbones and her neck looked long, kind of like those busts of ancient Egyptian women in the museum.

    Her face was just wonderful to look at, especially since she was smiling. But her body took my breath away. She had the baby on her left hip, kind of sitting there being held close to her by her arm. Her hip jutted out in his direction. It was a boy baby I could just tell that, but I couldn't see him that well. That's because she was standing sideways to me, and her chest blocked my view of him. She had, shall we say, rather large breasts? I found out later they were bigger than usual because she was still breastfeeding.

    But at that time, they just looked huge. She was wearing a blue checked button down shirt, and cut off jeans shorts. Her legs looked like they were a mile long, and they were tanned and smooth. She had on tennis shoes with no socks. She had a southern accent. And I mean the real deal, not Texas, or Oklahoma. She had that Alabama or Mississippi kind of drawl that makes a man stand up and listen. I realized my mouth was hanging open. I had to swallow before I could answer, because my throat was kind of dry. Zimmerman more than the five bucks he'd originally paid me. He was kind of special. I suspect that's why my mind just equated his yard with that amount.

    She stood, looking at me for a while. That meant I was sorry for having just imagined her naked, but of course she didn't know that. Or maybe she did. When she said "your fee" it came out as "yo-ah fee. She basically owned me at that moment, and I didn't even know her name. I was still looking at her. Not being experienced at looking at a beautiful woman, I suspect I was rather blatant about it, but she didn't say anything. Eventually she just waved her hand at the yard and said, "Feel free I pointed at our house. I had seen that look before. There was a kid at church who had Down's Syndrome, and that's how lots of people looked at him.

    But you be careful So I just pushed the mower into her yard and paid attention to mowing the lawn, instead of looking at her. It was an inauspicious beginning to a relationship I neither expected nor would have believed possible.

    While I mowed the lawn, the mover guys kept going in anc out. Sometimes she was out there watching them and sometimes not. Every time I saw her she was holding the baby. When I got finished, she wasn't outside watching the movers. I didn't know what else to do, so I waited until the movers went in, and followed them. I'd been in Mr. Zimmerman's house before, lots of times, in fact. But of course all his Stepmom fucked hard slutload was gone, and everything looked different except for the wallpaper.

    It was pretty strange. The mover guys were taking stuff into various rooms, based on what was written on the outside of the box. Prater whose name I did not yet know at that point Millf in any of the regular rooms. There was only one other tumbblr she could be, and that was the walk-in pantry off of tumlr kitchen. So I figured she had to be in there, and it never occurred to Miof that she might tubmlr hiding from the men, so I just opened it to make sure she was in there, so I could get my money. She has blue eyes. Did I mention that? Those bright blue eyes turned on me just about the time I realized she was feeding her baby.

    The baby, who I later found out was almost a year old, turned his head and a fat, brown nipple popped out of his mouth. It was kind of like I was in a dream, because I saw a thin stream of white arc up and off to one side. I realized it was falling right on the baby's shoulder, and wondered if it felt like rain to him. Would y'all please close the door? Then her, "I'll be right out" comment sank in and I realized I was supposed to be outside, waiting for her there. Timmy had blue eyes too, and he kept looking at me. I kept looking at that fat, stiff nipple. I went out and closed it. I was panting like I'd run a mile. I felt like leaving. I was pretty embarrassed. But just as I was about to do that, her voice came through the door.

    About five minutes later, she came out. Timmy was back on her hip and she looked normal. I followed her outside and she walked around the yard. The I followed that up with, "I'm sorry, Mrs. She turned around and those blue eyes landed on me again. She stuck out a hand. And it's Miss, not Mrs. But you can just call me Ronnie. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelins'. My mamma always said that it was our duty to treat God's special children kindly, because they didn't choose to be that way. I had been about to finish with "a woman as pretty as you," but I realized that would be entirely unacceptable, should it ever get back to my mother. She didn't give me time to explain. They all look pretty much the same.

    And now you've seen one. But how about let's not advertise that fact. I just got here, and that's not how I want my introduction to the neighborhood to go. I didn't want her thinking I was thinking about her breast. Of course now I was thinking about her breast. But I had to set her straight. I felt pretty embarrassed.

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