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The second story of my amazing wife.

Cherrie groaned long and loud, her hips quivering.

A moment later, she turned and hurried over to the counter. "Oh, shit!" she whispered softly and downed half of her wine. Her mind was having a field day with all the thoughts about Paul, sex, and her job all in one big tangled mess.

Her brain was settling down a little and she moaned softly as the realization that he had seen her sunk in completely. He had been thirty feet away and there was the glass, one part of her mind supplied. But... but... but... another part sputtered. Cherrie groaned again as she refilled her glass.

With a long deep breath, she turned and leaned on the counter, the wine glass held up near her breasts. She shifted her hips and felt the slipperiness in her sex. Her free hand went to her belly and slowly slid down to the top of her mound. It stopped there, her fingers curling, her nails making her shiver as they tickled the smooth hairless skin under the thin material of the skirt.

She glanced at the wine glass and turned quickly to set it on the counter. "That is not helping my head any at all," she whispered as the sound of the lawnmower crossed behind her apartment again. It sounded louder than normal. Her eyes went to the back door. It was standing partially open. She groaned softly as she took a step in that direction.

"No, no, no," she whispered but she took another step.

As she took a third step the lawnmower shut off. She hurried to the door and looked out. Neither Paul nor the lawnmower was in sight. The thought that he might be coming to her door had flashed across her mind. Now she wasn't sure if she was glad that he wasn't or disappointed.

She opened the door and stepped out onto the patio. She slowly moved toward the steps as her eyes scanned the edge of the bedroom wall. She reached the steps and still hadn't seen the mower or Paul.

With a sigh, she stepped down to the second step and sat down on the third, leaning back against the edge of the patio. Short stucco walls at an angle were on both sides of the steps severing as handrails. She tried to pull the short skirt down over her knees but it barely reached. She held it there, her knees and feet tightly together.

The top of the short railing wall was about level with the top of her breasts. She glanced down. The way she was pulling the skirt made an angled tent over the front of her body. She leaned forward and looked to the right. She knew there was a tool shed on the other side of the last apartment.

There was nothing or anyone in sight. She sat back and relaxed, letting go of the skirt. The skirt sprang up high above her knees. She shivered and pulled it down. "Maybe he's through for the day," she whispered softly, thinking aloud.

The sun was a little above the back fence and warm-- growing toward hot. It was taking a little time for her body to warm up from being in the air conditioning of her apartment. Cherrie moved her feet outward using her toes and then her heels. Her thighs opened wider and wider. Her hands were on her knees.

When her knees were as wide as her shoulders, she raised her heels as high as she could. She groaned softly as her dress slid down her thighs and the heat of the sun kissed her sex. She glanced down and shivered from the excitement of exposing herself like she was. She bounced on her toes and the dress slid a little farther down.

Cherrie took a deep breath and looked around at the high fences and the back yard. The grass was short and neat except for a five-foot strip down the center. She wondered why Paul hadn't finished that strip. Maybe he had been called away or ran out of gas. The second thought made her nervous. What if he refueled the mower and came back to finish? What would she do?

She bounced one foot and then the other with nervous energy.

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