Keep Your Hands To Yourself!

“I brought you lunch.”


“Thanks. Give me a couple of minutes. As you can see, I’m in the middle of something here.”

That I can see. You are under the hood of your car, doing heaven only knows what. Putting the lunch on the workbench, I open up the containers of soup and unwrap the sandwiches.

“I’m going to get started without you. I’m starving and my soup will get cold if I don’t.”

“Sure. I shouldn’t be too long.”

I wipe off an old bar stool and sit down to eat. “What are you doing?”

“Would you know what I was talking about if I told you?” I can hear the smile in your voice.

“Probably not.” I shrug. While you may find my lack of mechanical knowledge amusing, it is not something that unduly bothers me.

“How long will you be?”

“I’ll be quicker if you quit distracting me.”

I harrumph and open my soup container. It smells good and hot; I’m cold so it’s just what I need. As I eat I watch you work. I like watching you work. Your movements are efficient yet graceful. I like the way you talk to yourself when you are concentrating. And I really like watching you bend over. You have a very fine rear end.

“Are you sure I can’t distract you?”

“Yes.” You shoot a stern glare over your shoulder, “Keep your hands to yourself!”

My soup finished, I lean back on the bar stool and let my legs fall open. “Keep my hands to myself? Like this?” I say as I slide up my skirt and run my hands between my legs.