Phils Summer Project

The back of Phil’s parents’ house overlooked the rear of larger, grander houses with uninterrupted sea views.

Phil and his mate Colin were relaxing in deck chairs having recently survived exams, high school graduation and their eighteenth birthdays.

They were discussing their prospects of earning a decent amount of cash before going to university after the holidays.

“My plan A. at the moment is to visit wealthy Mrs. Penforth-Jones in the house right behind ours and talk her in to hiring me for the summer as her toy boy and handyman for light tasks,” explained Phil.

“Do you know her?” asked Colin as he choked and spluttered making a mess with his beer.

“Wouldn’t know each other if we crashed carts in the supermarket.”

“She won’t give you the time of day, you’ll be lucky to get a footstep on to her property. She can afford staff but no one has ever stayed long enough to do anything.”

“Bet you fifty that I get work there and I get to sleep with her.”

“Make it a million if you want. Why would she hire you?”

“My looks, charm and my acting classes.”

Phil motioned for Colin to follow him and they made their way to a shed at the bottom of the garden.

From the viewing point they could see Mrs. Penforth-Jones sitting on her rear veranda with a sandwich and a glass of wine.

At fifty plus she appeared ghostly, pale skin, pale lips and whitish hair and eyebrows all blended together to make her features indistinguishable. The white t shirt and shorts didn’t help. He physique suggested a swimmer or tennis player and the boys gave her top marks in the breasts and bum departments.

The next morning Phil was at her gate, unshaven in his oldest clothes.

He rang the intercom device.

“What?”

“Ma’am, I can’t help noticing that your lawn needs cutting and I’m at your service.”

“Go away.”

The intercom went dead so he rang again.

“Do I have to call the police or are you going to get your hands off that button?”

“Ma’am I’m desperate for work, please let me cut your grass, it will cost you next to nothing.”

Mrs. Penforth-Jones couldn’t spell “sympathy” but she always responded to a chance to screw someone out of a fair price.

The gate opened.

“Explain yourself,” she demanded.

“Short version of the story, I hitchhiked in to town for a job which was no longer available, lost my wallet and then things started to go downhill.”

“Lawnmower and tools are in the shed behind the house. You are not an escaped prisoner or a burglar are you?”

“None of the above, but I’m awful hungry. The lawn should take about an hour, I would really appreciate a sandwich then.”

“We’ll see,” and she went back in to the house.

An hour later she reappeared with a plate of sandwiches and an iced tea. She was so impressed with the lawn that Phil was hired on the spot, twenty hours a week for as long as he wanted.

“You don’t need to bolt down your food, I know that you are acting. My friend spotted you and phoned me. And when it is time for you to go home you can jump the fence between the properties if you want to, I have just found out who you are. Very clever getting past my security gate.”

“I’m sorry I had to trick you.”

Day two was even better. Mrs. Penforth-Jones, who now insisted on being called Olive, had let her hair down, had a suggestion of lipstick and her shirt showed a fair amount of cleavage.

They spent most of the day making lists of jobs that needed doing and Phil used her car on various errands, mostly to the local hardware store and garden centre.

Phil had many opportunities to view the goods under her blouse and when his stare became fixed Olive would smile and make no attempt to do up another button.

On day three, Phil made himself busy in the morning reorganising the garage, but Olive kept the wine flowing at lunch time and nothing much got done in the afternoon.

“My husband has a business abroad and stays away most of the time. I visit him a couple of times a year,” she explained as she moved her chair closer to Phil placing a hand on his thigh, “It is nice to have a man around the place.”

Phil put his hand over hers and squeezed her gently, “I think this is going to work for both of us.”

“I think you have been wanting to see these all day,” she said as she deftly unbuttoned her blouse and released her bra, pulling his hand towards her breasts.

Phil kneeled in front of her and held her breasts while he licked her nipples, moving his head back from time to time to admire the view.

Olive discarded the blouse and bra completely, took Phil by the hand and invited him to tour the garden and discuss more plans.

“It feels nice to be topless in the fresh air, naked would be even better, perhaps we should go in and shower, I forgot you were working in dusty, hot conditions all morning.”

The bathroom was impressive, the shower was not enclosed, just part of the room and equipped with all kinds of water jets, light effects and a bench seat.

They stripped off together and Olive dialled up the water temperature and effects while selecting slowly changing, pink/blue hues for the LED lights. They playfully soaped and rinsed each other and then Olive changed setting to steam and they sat together holding hands on the bench.

“Are you going to make passionate love to me on my bed?” Olive asked as she took his semi hard cock in her hand, “please go slow at first, I haven’t had much practise recently.”

Phil reached for a towel and dried her from head to foot, holding the towel in one hand while caressing her with the other. This took him to her pussy for the first time and she popped up on her toes and giggled when he briefly inserted a finger.

As they climbed on to the extra-king four poster bed Olive had a confession to make.

“I’ve only ever been with my husband, when I do see him he’s not exactly a stud, can you believe we have never, ever even talked about oral sex?”

Phil climbed off the bed and pulled her by the ankles to the edge. Bending over, he parted her pussy lips with his fingers and circled her clit with his tongue.

“Do you think you might get used to receiving oral?” he asked before getting back to business.

“Heavenly,”

Phil explored further, using both his hands and his tongue around her lips and penetrating a little with both and introducing divsersions such as running his tongue up to her belly button and back, grasping and lifting her buttocks and kissing her inner thighs down to her knees.

“I loved that, but you are going to have to show me what to do in return,” pulling him up for some deep French kissing.

Phil rolled over on to his back and held up his erection for inspection.

“Just put your mouth over it, little bit of suction, up and down, use your tongue… if I’m quiet it’s exquisite, if I’m making noises it’s extra, extra exquisite because you have found a very sensitive spot.”

Olive worked her tongue under the head of his cock. His buttocks lifted off the bed and he made a few ahh ahh ahh sounds.

“Gold medal on a practice round is incredible,” he sighed.

“Kiss me again and then I’m going to ask for spoons position so we can stay locked together for as long as possible, sound like a plan?”

“Perfect.”

Getting in to position, Phil put an arm over her and checked that she was sufficiently moist for his entry. Satisfied, he got roughly in position and she reached down to assist. He slowly, slowly, entered, all the way as far as he could and then he paused. The both gave a gasp of satisfaction.

“I keep asking you to go easy on me but you can do whatever you want,” she said.

“This seems to me to be the perfect way to start, I assume there’s going to be more and from time to time we might add a bit of variety.”

“Of course there’s going to be more. I thought we could do it in the shower, the bath tub, take a drive for outdoor sex…”

“Perhaps a no panty day for quickies whenever an opportunity arises?”

“That sounds a load of fun,” she said as she practiced squeezing her pelvic floor muscles.

Then they alternated between his thrusting and her squeezing until they finished with sound effects followed by an hour’s sleep.

A pattern developed for the summer. Every morning, Monday to Friday, Olive cared for the house, shopped and prepared food. Phil kept the gardens neat, washed the cars and did odd jobs like oiling door hinges. They might drive down the coast for lunch but more often ate in the garden. They made love four or five times a week, sometimes a Phil slept over, sometimes he hopped the fence and went to his own bed.

Weekends they generally caught up with their own families and friends. Both realised that they were not going to become lifetime lovers but just enjoyed one day at a time.

One afternoon, two or three weeks out from the end of holidays, Olive had just finished sucking Phil off, an expert, she swallowed now, and Phil had a sombre announcement,

“My parents want to drive me to university taking several days as a sort of holiday. I am going to have to leave earlier than we thought.”

“As long as you visit me next time you get a break.”

“Of course, in the mean time if you need a handyman/gardener my mate Colin’s summer job ends sooner than he would like and he could do the last couple of weeks.”

Olive was flushed with excitement and had a thousand questions,”Is he as nice as you… does he know what we get up too… would he be good in bed… will you be jealous.”

“Of course not, well perhaps just a bit. This summer has exceeded my expectations by so much, I will never forget it, but life goes on.”

“Well, you must introduce me to Colin, perhaps we could send you off with a threesome?”