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Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King and its characters belong to WB and Shoot the Moon Productions. No infringement is intended. This is written for entertainment purposes only. Please do not redistribute or reproduce this story without my permission.

Note: This story is in answer to a challenge issued by Alley where the story had to begin with “It all started out so simple.” Also, the same challenge stated Lee had to be caught naked. I combined them both. This is my answer to her ideas.

Thanks: Rita and Miss Edna you make my stories readable by catching all my grammar errors.
It all started out so simple. He only wanted to read the newspaper. How in the world had he gotten himself into this predicament? He sat down on the bench in the gazebo, buried his head in his hands, and recalled the events of the past hour. Hell. It felt like hours. Since he wasn’t wearing a watch, he had no idea how much time had passed, but he knew it hadn’t been that long, just seemed like time moved in slow motion.

********

The overcast Sunday morning had started out innocently. Dotty was with Captain Kurt, and the boys were with Joe. They had the house to themselves for the entire weekend. After waking up and going downstairs, Amanda noticed they were out of coffee and went to the grocery store. While she was gone, Lee decided to take a shower, and instead of dressing afterward, he’d gone downstairs with a towel wrapped around his waist, hoping Amanda had returned from her shopping venture and enticing her into a morning round of lovemaking.

Sniffing the air as he entered the kitchen, he didn’t smell the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. He looked around the empty room and hoped she’d be home soon. ‘Might as well read the paper until she returns.’ Glancing at the counter, he didn’t see the newspaper in its usual place. Just in case she’d left it somewhere else, he made a quick scan of the dining area and entry hall table.

Lee opened the front door and stuck his head out, looking up and down the street--no one in sight. It’d only take a moment to scoot to the lawn where the paper lay, pick it up, and get back inside without anyone seeing him. He darted his eyes back and forth for several minutes to make sure the coast was clear.

He dashed across the grass and snatched the paper, scanning the area for any onlookers, then sprinted back to the front door. Turning the handle, he groaned--locked. He reached for his keys and realized he didn’t have them. Of course, he had no lock pick on him. Hell he wasn’t even wearing shoes. And, to top it off, the only covering he had between him and prying eyes was a towel. He racked his hand through his hair then wiggled the door handle, hoping it’d release. Maybe the lock hadn’t turned all the way.

Beep. Beep. A car horn tooted as it passed the house.

Lee stood ramrod still. No way was he turning around to see who had honked at him. If it had been anyone they knew, he’d hear all about it as soon as the neighborhood grapevine began its gossip phone tree. He could hear the conversations in his mind. ‘Did you see Amanda’s husband this morning? He was outside in nothing but a towel. What did he think he was doing, parading around like that in a residential neighborhood? Has he no sense of decency?’

“Damn it. I should’ve gotten dressed.” He banged his head against the door.

The roar of another car’s engine coming down the street brought him back to his senses. He had to take cover, but where? A large bush next to the house looked perfect. He dashed to the bush and hid behind it just as the car passed. He’d hoped it would be Amanda. But luck was not with him. He spun around and tugged on the window--locked.

He knelt down, parted the branches, and peered through the leaves. The coast was clear. All he had to do was get to the back door. Sidling along the house, he came first to the window of the dining room. He placed the newspaper under his arm and reached for the frame. Maybe it’d open. Nope. He continued around the house till he came to the French doors of the family room. He jiggled the handle. Locked.

His only hope was the back door. He looked up at the sky and offered a plea to heaven. He frowned. The clouds looked ominous. Oh, man. Rain was all he needed. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t hot either, and he didn’t relish the idea of getting caught outside in the storm, with nothing but a towel to protect him from the elements.

Hugging the side of the house, he crept toward the back door. The handle refused to turn. He cupped his hands to the window and scanned the kitchen. Why he had no idea, it’s not like someone would be walking around inside and unlock the door. For about two seconds he contemplated breaking one the glass panes out of the door to open the lock. But the ramifications weren’t worth it. Amanda would probably make him fix it himself. There were some things he’d rather not experience first hand and replacing glass was one of them. It wasn’t a life or death situation like when Amanda had been in danger several years ago and he broke out a window to save her life.

He looked into the vacant kitchen and sighed. What’s that? He squinted. The sight of keys hanging from the key rack made him groan. Salvation dangled only feet from him. Wait! The spare key hidden under the flowerpot, why hadn’t he remembered it until now? He smacked his forehead and went over the pot and lifted it up.

“Shit!” The key wasn’t there. Where the hell was it? Who hadn’t put it back? It dawned on him last week he’d used it when he’d forgotten his key and he hadn’t put it back. Where had he left it? Did he put it under the wrong pot?

He started to pick all the pots up looking for the missing key. Nothing. No, it wouldn’t be there, would it? He scanned the keys hanging on the rack again. There it was. The missing key. Then he heard a low woof behind him.

The Ferguson’s dog. How the hell did that damn dog keep getting through the fence? Jamie and Phillip had helped him fix the slats each time she broke through them. What would it take to keep her in her own back yard? The Saint Bernard lumbered over, its tongue lolling, and raised a hairy paw.

“Aw, not now, Tinkerbell. Don’t I have enough trouble without you wanting to play?” He pointed to the hole in the fence. “Go on home.”

Instead of doing as he directed, Tinkerbell flopped down on the porch, rolled over, and began woofing in earnest. If this blasted dog didn’t stop barking, one of the Fergusons would come out to see what was going on. He couldn’t have that. Spotting a stick, he picked it up and threw it across the yard toward the hole in the fence.

Tinkerbell jumped up and high-tailed after it. Lee let out a deep breath and turned to try the kitchen door. Locked. He rested his forehead against the doorframe. Amanda, come home--now! Like she could hear his thoughts and would pull up in the driveway this very minute. Closing his eyes, he tried to think. ‘Okay, I can go into the garage and wait for her to get back.’

As he turned, the towel became snagged on a bush. He pulled at it, and next thing he knew Tinkerbell had returned and seized the edge of the towel in her teeth. They each tugged for several minutes. The more he pulled, the more she pulled.

“We are not playing tug of war,” he spat out.

In response, Tinkerbell shook the towel between her teeth and growled playfully.

Spotting another stick, he knelt down to retrieve it.

“Look, Tinkerbell. Look what I have.” He waved the stick in front of her eyes and then raised it over his head.

Tinkerbell’s eyes locked on the stick as he held it up.

“Fetch!” He threw it high into the air. Unfortunately, she didn’t release her grip on the edge of the towel, and, with one final tug, she ran after her prey, sending Lee backward onto the ground, landing on his butt.

His last glimpse of Tinkerbell was her huge, hairy rear as she trotted toward the fence, the towel gripped in her teeth and flapping in the wind.

“Tinkerbell!” Lee yelled, but then lowered his voice and gritted his teeth. “Get your hairy ass back here with my towel.”

The only response from the next yard was complete silence.

A cool breeze around his lower extremity made him turn to see if anyone had witnessed his debacle, and he moved his hands to cover his crotch. ‘Now what the hell am I supposed to do?’ Spying the fallen paper next to him, an idea came to mind. A temporary solution, but he had to do something. He couldn’t sit here stark naked until Amanda returned. Could he? No. With his luck, a Connie Beth girl would show up, wanting to sell something.

Lee slid the paper out of its plastic sleeve and spread it out. It would work. He hoped. Adjusting the paper, he stood and held the open page in front of his crotch, affording him some semblance of modesty.

He looked around to ascertain his alternatives. The ‘Vette! He was sure there was something in the trunk that would cover him better. Casually, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he sauntered over to the car. Locked. And the spare key was hanging on the key rack on the kitchen wall.

Okay. The garage would have something inside he could use. Maybe even something he could use to pick the lock. Carefully, he backed up toward the garage door and tried the knob. He groaned when it failed to turn. Locked. Wouldn’t anything go right this morning?

A gust of wind sent the paper flying upward, exposing his genitals to all the world. His hands flew to keep it in place. This wasn’t going to work; he needed something to hold it around him. He scanned the area for something--anything--to use to pin the paper. His gaze fell upon the clothesline and the clothespin bag. Then he spied possible salvation. The gazebo. No door to be locked. A place he could hide, until his wife returned to let him back into the house. Never again would he go outside improperly clothed.

Lee sauntered over to the clothesline, whistling like it wasn’t unusual for him to be outside with only a newspaper for coverage. Act nonchalant he kept telling himself like he normally would be walking around the yard in such attire. He grabbed the bag of clothespins and rushed to the gazebo--and privacy.

He laid the newspaper and clothespin bag on the bench, then selected one page and wrapped it around his waist. Too short. Either his front or his ass would be exposed. He needed more then one page. He spread out a couple of pages, fished a clothespin out of the bag, and clipped it on top of the two halves of paper. Then he pinned another one halfway down. For added assurance, he clipped a few more along the seam he’d made.

“Not bad, Stetson.” He held up the makeshift skirt for inspection. This time, when he wrapped it around his waist, it covered him back and front. He clipped clothespins down the other side. Well, it wasn’t one of Francine’s fancy designer outfits, but it’d do in a pinch.

********

The expression ‘did you ever have one of those days’ popped into his mind. He’d never known what it meant, but now he did. It meant everything went against him. Just like Murphy’s Law. All he could do was wait.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there. Amanda still hadn’t come home, and a twinge of worry started to nag the back of his mind. Had she been in an accident? God forbid, had one of their enemies kidnapped her? He shook his head to ward off those images. Hell, she’d probably found a sale on something and decided to stop and pick it up. She was always on the lookout for a bargain.

A raindrop splashed on his nose. Great. Just great. His paper skirt wouldn’t hold up long if it got wet. Looking up to the heavens through the slats in the gazebo, he remembered a rhyme from his childhood.

“Rain. Rain. Go away. Come again another day.” At least that was the only part he could recall. He repeated it several times, but it didn’t do any good. The drops started falling faster.

He squinted his eyes. “Wait a minute. The bedroom window is cracked just enough that I can open it. Why didn’t I notice it before?”

‘Because it’s on the second floor, dummy,’ his mind answered him.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I climbed the trellis to get into our bedroom.”

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ his inner voice agreed.

Oh, God. Now he was talking to himself. Even worse, he was answering himself. He’d better get a grip, or Doc Pfaff would be offering him a tutty fruity ice pop.

All he had to do was climb up, and he’d be home free. He didn’t want to think about the last time he’d been on the trellis. During the “Stemwinder” fiasco, it had broken away from the house and tumbled them both into the backyard. No, he didn’t want to think about the time they’d had to run for their lives. Though before climbing out onto that very same trellis, they’d expressed their love for one another. He’d never forget that moment. But then the lattice had given way because they’d both been on it--not one lone person. In the past, he’d climbed it on several of his nocturnal visits. The trellis would hold his weight.

The rain slowed to a light drizzle, then stopped. Finally, something was going his way; now he didn’t have to worry about the paper getting soaked and falling apart. He adjusted the clothespins, making sure they were firmly in place. It’s now or never, Stetson. He took a deep breath, and, with long strides, he covered the distance to the trellis.

Before he started to climb, he scanned the area for any watchers. So far he’d been lucky, and his escapades had gone unnoticed by all except Tinkerbell. He placed his hand on the first rung of the trellis and began to climb. Carefully, he grasped each crosspiece, ascending without incident, until he was about a quarter of the way up the side of the house. Then, as his lousy luck would have it, one of the clothespins snagged on a slat. Shifting his weight, he tried to untangle himself. All he accomplished was to tear the paper, and the clothespin tumbled to the ground.

He stared at the ground, and then looked up at the open window that was his salvation. There were still other pins holding his makeshift skirt in place. One lost wouldn’t make a difference. He continued his climb and managed to get about a foot higher before snagging another clothespin. Maybe he was going about it wrong. The quicker he climbed the trellis, the quicker he’d be inside the house. No more pussy footing around.

When he clasped the next rung, he pulled his hand back in pain. What the hell! ‘Damn it! I thought Dotty planted roses that didn’t have thorns.’ He licked the blood from the scratch on his hand. Looking closely, he saw the tiny thorns embedded in the vines. Somehow he’d managed to avoid all of them until now. He placed his wounded hand back on the slat, without further damage to himself.

Creak!

Lee heard the sound from above his head. Glancing up, he saw one of the bolts holding the trellis to the house pull from its mooring. He noticed the other bolt had also loosened. He didn’t move. He didn’t breath. He had two choices. Continue up. Or go down.

Did he have enough time to go either direction? The ledge was almost within his reach. He contemplated his options for a few moments.

He felt the slat under one of his feet give way and his foot slipped. The decision was no longer his to make. “Shit!”

Somehow he maneuvered his body around and jumped, as the last bolt holding the trellis in place broke under the pressure of his weight. He landed on his ass in the grass. His head banged against the hard earth. The rain had done little to cushion the blow. Stars flashed behind his closed eyelids. He shook his head to clear it.

“Lee!”

He looked toward the sound of the voice, and, as his vision cleared, he saw his wife standing in front of him holding a grocery bag.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” She put the bag on the grass and knelt next to him, her fingers tracing his forehead.

“You’re home.” Relief flooding through him, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Amanda pointed to the fallen trellis.

“Newspaper. Door. Locked. Towel. Window. Locked. Tinkerbell. Rain. Trellis.” He knew he wasn’t making any sense, but all he could think of was thank God she was all right. That she hadn’t been in an accident or kidnapped. “Where have you been? You’ve been gone for hours.”

“I’ve only been gone an hour, and you knew I went to the grocery store.”

“But yo--”

“Tell me slowly what happened, please.”

Lee told her the entire story of how he’d managed to get locked out of the house. When he finished, she burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is. I wish I could’ve seen you skulking around the house looking for a way in, in nothing but a towel. Then to have Tinkberbell steal it playing tug of war, making a cover out of the newspaper, and finally, climbing the trellis. You know how much I love looking at your naked legs.” She winked.

Lee laughed in spite of himself. Hearing her tell it, it really was funny. But not something he wanted the rest of the family to know. He eyed the mangled roses and broken trellis. “How am I going to explain all this?” He gestured toward what once had been attached to the side of the house.

“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something. You’re not hurt anywhere else, are you?”

“Just some scratches. I think.” He showed her his scratched hand.

“Let me make it better.” She kissed it. Her lips felt smooth and hot on his skin. “Nothing broken from the fall?”

Lee flexed his arms and legs. “Nope, everything is in working order.”

“Are you sure?” Amanda lifted the edge of the newspaper and peeked under it.

“What are you doing?” He tried to move the paper back down.

“I’m just checking to make sure everything is working.” Her hand caressed his shaft underneath the paper.

His cock stiffened with her touch. “It’s working. Trust me,” he growled huskily, as he brought her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

After several moments of kissing and her giving him a hand job, he was hard as a rock and wanted to give, as well as receive. He traced his fingertips up the side of her thigh, under her skirt, to the edge of her panties. Pushing the material aside, he slid his finger along her slit. By the wetness already dripping from her core, he knew she was turned on as much as him. He slipped his middle finger deep inside her warmth. With his thumb, he pressed on her swollen clitoris and stroked. Back and forth. Up and down. The same rhythm her hand used on his cock.

“Woof. Woof.”

At the sound of the barking, their lips parted and hands stopped. Lee stared into his wife’s eyes and saw the dark heat that simmered in them. His breathing slowed, and he realized they were still outside in broad daylight. “I think we better take this inside. Unless you really want to give the whole neighborhood an x-rated show.”

Amanda stood and straightened her skirt, then picked up the grocery bag. “Let’s go inside. Now!”

Lee stood and held the torn newspaper in front of him. Not just to hide the fact he had no clothing, but to cover his burgeoning erection. “Lead the way, I don’t have a key. Remember, I’m locked out.”

Amanda laughed, holding up the keys. “You unlock the door.” She tossed them up in the air.

When he lifted his hand to catch them, he had to let go of one side of the paper. He didn’t know when all of the clothespins had come undone--whether it had been from the fall, or his wife’s friskiness. As the keys came down, instead of tossing them to him, she grabbed the keys in one hand and the billowing newspaper in her other hand, ripping it from his grasp.

“Now who’s giving the neighbors an x-rated show? Not me. I’m fully clothed.” Her eyes scanned his body.

Lee looked down at his cock--standing proud and stiff. “You little minx.” He moved his hands to cover his lower anatomy, but instead he glanced around to make sure they were unobserved. “Unlock the door, or I’m going to give the neighbors a show they’ll never forget.”

“What are you going to do?”

“This.” He began to stroke himself.

Her eyes followed his movements; she licked her lips and turned to unlock the door. He stood behind her, his hand sliding around her waist to her breasts, fondling them through her blouse. She leaned back into his embrace, fumbling with the keys. “Stop that,” she gasped. “Or I can’t open the door.”

Lee took the keys from her and unlocked the door. He pushed her inside, and she dropped her purse and grocery bag on the kitchen island.

“Let me put something on those scratches first.”

“Scratches?” He looked at his hands and then down at his cock. “They’re fine, but this isn’t.” He pointed to his erection. “Come here.”

“No,” she said, backing up around the island. “We really should take care of any injuries first.”

He reached out to grab her, but she abruptly turned and fled toward the family room. The chase was on as she scooted around the couch and coffee table, keeping out of his grasp. He was hot on her tail, and he stretched out his arm and captured her around the waist, grinding his erection into her pelvis.

“Gotcha.” He licked and nibbled her neck, feeling her tremble under his touch. Sliding her skirt up, he cupped her rear, his fingers molding to its shape, kneading the tender flesh.

“Kiss me.” She pulled his head from her neck and captured his mouth with hungry urgency. Her fingers brushed across his taut abdomen, teasing him with their feather light touch. He sucked in a deep breath when she cupped his balls, kneading them gently, and then gripped his cock firmly, sliding her soft hand with agonizing slowness along its length.

“You’re killing me,” he gasped.

“I know.” She tightened her grip.

His cock pulsed; he wanted her, hard and fast. This time. They could make love slowly later.

In a flash, he turned her in his arms, ripped off her panties, and leaned her over the back of the couch. The sensitive head of his penis brushed her slick heat, and he groaned. He plunged deep into her core, his hands on her hips, guiding her back and forth on his cock. His thrusts became harder and faster as he impaled her to the hilt with each stroke.

Sweat beaded down the side of his face, and his breathing became labored as he spiraled toward an orgasm. His heart pounded. One more thrust and he’d be a goner. As his cock exploded, he removed her hands from their death grip on the couch and pulled her back up against his chest. With his thumb, he pressed on her swollen clitoris and stroked furiously, bringing her to orgasm. He felt her vagina tighten around him, milking his cock with all its might. She placed one hand over his, pushing his thumb harder into her clitoris. With her free hand, she grasped him around the neck, twisting slightly to meet his lips with hers, while they rode out their orgasms.

When Amanda’s knees buckled, he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs. “Let’s get comfortable.”

“Whatever you say.” She nuzzled his neck.

********

“Rita Boxner, what are you doing by that window with binoculars?” Edna Gilstrap asked, as she carried a cup of coffee to her sister. “What’s so interesting outside this morning?”

“Oh, nothing, dear.” Rita wiped the smirk off her face and lowered the glasses. “I saw a bluebird, and I was trying to find out where it’s nesting.”

“That’s nice. Here’s your coffee.”

“Thanks.” She took the offered cup and placed it on the end table. “Edna, didn’t you tell me Amanda King remarried?”

“Yes, she’s now Amanda Stetson. Her husband Lee is a very nice man. Even though he drives that silver sports car, gunning the engine all over the neighborhood. Dotty is pleased. She said he was an eleven on a scale of one to ten, and he’s good with his stepsons. Breakfast will be ready shortly,” Edna said, as she left the room.

As soon as her sister departed, Rita raised the binoculars back to her eyes. ‘Hope I didn’t miss anything.’ She trained them on the house across the street. ‘Drats! Looks like they’ve moved to another room.’ She scurried to the other window and tried to spot the couple. Nothing.

After placing the binoculars down, she picked up the coffee and began to sip it. When Edna had told her that her neighbor had remarried, she didn’t know he’d be such a hunk. From what she’d seen, he sure as hell was an eleven!

Sinking down in the chair, Rita remembered when she’d peered through the window curtains this morning and seen a man come out of the house dressed in nothing but a towel. She’d watched his antics until he moved to the side of the house. Thankfully, Edna’s house was catty-cornered to Amanda’s, and she switched windows, giving her an excellent view of the escapade that transpired.

She had to stifle her laughter as the dog tugged on Lee’s towel. Then when he lost the towel, she enjoyed a fantastic view of his dimpled rear end. Oh, my! She zoomed in to get a closer look. What a nice rear end he had. Those dimples were made for pinching. She reached out her hand and gave them a pinch. Well, she imagined she was doing it.

Then she lost sight of him. Patiently, she waited. He hadn’t gone into the house. At least she didn’t think so. Where was he? At last she was rewarded with the image of him sprinting across the yard with a newspaper wrapped around his waist. Her dear mother was right--patience really was a virtue. Oh my goodness, did he intend to climb the trellis?

A loud gasp escaped her lips as she watched him fall. Oh, the poor man! Was he hurt? She strained to see. Ah, Amanda had returned home, and now they were kissing. And from the movement of their hands, they must be pleasuring each other, too. Well! The young man definitely wasn’t hurt!

Oh, dear. When Amanda grabbed the paper and exposed him, Rita waved her hand in front of her face to cool off. Oh, dear! Then he began stroking himself. She almost fainted. Whew! With one hand, she fumbled for a tissue and wiped her brow, never taking her eyes off the action across the street. She followed their journey into the house. Frantically, she scanned the windows for any sight of the couple. Well, she certainly couldn’t lose them now, could she?

Yes, there they were. She was again rewarded with their silhouettes through the French doors. Unfortunately, the sheer curtains hid their actions. But from what she could make out, they had a grand time. She must tell her husband, Bruce about this position. She’d never thought to lean over the back of the couch or a comfortable chair and have him take her from behind. At least that’s what it looked like they did.

She thanked her lucky stars Bruce liked to try new things in the lovemaking department. It was what made life interesting and kept the sex fresh and erotic in their long marriage. In fact, she wished he was with her now. One more week and then she’d be home. Boy, would he be surprised at what she’d learned! Amanda’s husband reminded her of him, especially the way they were both so well endowed.

“Rita. Breakfast.”

Edna’s voice jolted her back to the present. She took her coffee cup with her to the dinning room and began to count the days until she was reunited with her husband. But, in the meantime, she’d keep the binoculars close and handy. Yes, indeed. Very handy.

The End
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