Do some gardening

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Revision as of 21:15, 7 June 2015

You remember hearing your mother complaining about the sorry state of her garden - what will the neighbours think of her? - so you decide to do something productive and help her out. The excitement you feel about exposing yourself to all of your neighbours in no way diminishes this noble act you are about to perform.

You head through the hallway door that leads into the garage. There you find your mother's gardening supplies. You slip on her straw sun hat (it's pretty hot outside) and a pair of blue gardening gloves. With your outfit complete, you pick up a basket containing trimmers, clippers and everything in-between and head towards the garage door. You press the 'Door Open' button. Slowly the mechanical door creaks into action, and it slowly begins to rise. The garage is dark, and as the door rises the sunlight shines upon your bare feet, then climbs up to your knees, up to your thighs, past your crotch, past your belly button, up and beyond your majestic breasts and finally shows your face to the world.

Dressed in nothing more than gloves and a hat, you step out into the world.

The front garden is fairly large, surrounded by a white picket fence. Your home is part of a cul-de-sac, meaning at least eight houses are facing yours. You give a shiver of pleasure as you consider how many of those windows might contain a neighbour watching you. You make your way over to the flower beds, which are on the floor beneath your front porch.

You kneel on the grass, the world sees your ass, and you begin to prune.

Despite your noble intentions, you can barely pay attention to what you're doing as you fantasise about people looking over the fence to see what you're doing. You spread your knees and lean forward, displaying your pussy for anyone to see as you poke aimlessly at a weed. The excitement builds, and builds, and builds.

You turn around, expecting to see a crowd gathered and watching you. There is nobody there.

You throw your trowel back into the basket and pick up the hedge clippers. Time to get serious. There's a hedge separating your garden from your next door neighbours, and in order to trim it you'll have to stand in clear view of the street. You make your way over to it and began to pluck aimlessly at stray branches. The fence is right beside you, and ends just beneath thigh height. You turn, and a thrill of excitement shoots through you as you realise you can see the entire street from here. Surely somebody will see you?

"Woah!"

With a smile, you turn to the source of the noise. A middle aged man and woman were walking past, but are now staring at you with wide-eyed astonishment. You recognise them, vaguely, as your neighbours from two doors down. You don't know their names. The man is smiling broadly, and the woman... well, you were expecting disdain, perhaps, but her looks appears measuring.

"Just what do you think you're doing, young lady?" she demands.

"Trimming my bush." you reply.

"Looks plenty trimmed to me." the man quips. The woman slaps him on the arm.

"Is your mother making you do this?" she asks.

"Nope. Just felt like it."

"Now Martha, it's none of our business." the man says.

"Well Arthur, I had to ask!" Martha replies. "You hear so many horror stories nowadays..."

"Really, it was my idea." You say. "It's quite enjoyable."

"Hmm, really?" says Martha. "Well, I have to say that our garden is in a sorry state at the moment. Would you be interested in doing some work for us, perhaps? We'd be willing to pay."

"You're the best wife ever." Arthur says to her.

"And you're the worst gardener ever." Martha retorts. "I just want the work done, and she seems to know what she's about."

Do you:

Accept:

Decline their offer, and instead:

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