I didn't even know his name . . . and the funny thing was I didn't wanna know his name. It didn't matter to me. Not at all. In fact, all that did matter was that I needed to get him out of those work clothes and into my backyard.
You see, the struggle for a lonely MILF is trying to keep it together when it's been too long . . . and, well, for me, too long had come and gone months ago. It was well beyond too long since I'd had a man, and I felt like I was about to lose my mind. I'd never felt such heat between my legs. All I could think about at night was the sexy guy next door climbing up and down that ladder, swinging his hammer, and sweating in the hot sun.
His body was perfect. His dark hair was perfect. And those hands? My heavens, there was just something about those big strong hands, the way they gripped those tools, that had me panting and groaning in my bed at night.
It was those same big hands that had gotten me into this position in the first place. Those big strong hands that for the last three days had been hauling heavy bundles of shingles and swinging a hammer atop my neighbor's new garage. I knew I was a goner from the first day I laid eyes on them; but I had no idea I would be here bent across this patio table allowing him to take me like this—or maybe I did and I just didn't want to admit it.
Sure, I was hoping for something big—something really big! But to tell the truth, I'd take anything I could get at this point. Fortunately for me he had the whole package—the whole juicy, plump, package! And after that, my backyard would never be the same!! Especially not for a MILF like me.
