Mow the lawn

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You feel a little cautious. Painting the fence will leave you on the street, while climbing the ladder will make you very visible to anyone looking this way. Mowing the lawn seems the most sensible option - until you've built up a little extra courage, at least. You tell Martha your decision.

"That's fine." Martha says.

You make your way through the gate and follow Martha to a garage sitting at the side of their house. The garage door is open, and you can see Arthur inside rubbing a lawn mower with a cloth. It's a big machine, the sort that you sit on and drive around the garden.

"Arthur, will you leave it alone?" Martha says with exasperation.

"Just getting a bit of dust off of it." Arthur replies with a friendly smile. "Wouldn't want the girl to blemish her skin now, would I?"

"It wouldn't have dust on it if you used it more." Martha retorted. She turns to face you. "Do you know how to operate one of these?"

You reply that you do.

"Excellent! I'll leave you to it, then, while Arthur and I catch up on our soaps."

"Oh." Arthur replies, looking a little crestfallen. "I was hoping to stay out here for a bit, just make sure that she knew what she was doing."

"She'll be just fine." Martha replies drily.

Arthur gives you one last look before reluctantly following his wife inside. You can't help but smile. You don't find Arthur attractive - he's far too old for that - but the attention he is giving your body is quite flattering. You feel a thrill of excitement as you imagine what it would be like if somebody your age, somebody you found attractive, looked at you the same way.

You climb up and into the driver's seat of the mower. The accelerator is on the left side, while the brake is on the right. A large plastic box sits between the two, just in front of the seat, meaning that you have to keep your legs open to operate the machine. You bite your lip as you feel a breeze tickling your inner-most private area, and you imagine how exposed you are right now. You turn on the ignition, and the mower chugs into life.

It's clearly seen better days, and as you drive onto the lawn you find yourself shaken up and down as it struggles about it's business. At first it's annoying, but after a few moments you begin to feel arousal. The plastic box must house the engine, because it's sending up a series of vibrations straight through the seat! By the time you reach the fence and begin to turn, you're starting to feel wet and moans of pleasure are escaping from your mouth.

What do you do?


(if you can think of any more, feel free to add other options.)

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