One Man’s Trash is Another Man’s Treasure


It tickled as the glob of conditioner slipped from my long wet hair, ran down the indentation of my spine and landed with a resounding splat on the shower floor.  I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined it was a lover’s tongue softly gliding slowly down my back. I shivered as I reached for the bottle of expensive hair product to try again while contemplating the last time anyone touched me anywhere with a finger, a tongue, a throbbing penis.Twenty-two years of marriage and the last five years have been a slow decay of intimacy, cascading into mutual domestic servitude.  As I scratched the conditioner into my scalp, I contemplated asking my husband if he wanted to have sex. This generally led to a bi-monthly session that lacked enthusiasm, was void of passion and left me feeling worse than before we tried.  It certainly wasn’t worth it and last time I sent him a text that said, “Are you happy? What about sex? Are we spending enough time together?”His avoidant reply was, “Let’s try to have family dinners at 8.”Speaking of dinner at eight, I was lingering in the shower way too long and dinner was probably over-browning in the oven.  No time for shower fantasies or attempts at solving complex marital issues. I ran my fingers through my hair to rinse out the last of the conditioner, squeezed out the excess water and gently stepped out of the shower.  As I reached for the towel, Jack entered the master bathroom in his workout clothes fresh from the gym, his blonde hair slicked back with sweat, looking tired and slightly annoyed at something, or possibly nothing.“Can you make sure the kids take out the garbage?”“Ahhhhh… yes of course. Sure.”“And please make sure they put a new bag in the trash can.”With that request, he bahis siteleri turned abruptly and left. I felt stupid standing there naked and quickly grabbed a towel and started to dry off my legs. I guess after two and half decades these legs have lost their effect on him.  Hitting the precipitous of puberty with skinny long legs and big boobs, I attracted lovers like moths to a flame and the flame was not easily extinguished. As I wrapped the towel around my body and tucked it under my armpit to stay in place, it dawned on me that the stereotypical complaints of wives not wanting sex and nagging men about household chores had embodied my husband and possibly I was the horny, forgotten husband in the marriage.  With that depressing revelation, I threw on a t-shirt and yoga pants, bypassing the hassle of a bra since it was nearly bedtime, and headed to serve the 8 p.m. family dinner that was suggested as a solution to my bad sex life.*****“Fuck,” I shouted as I jumped out of bed to the sound of the garbage truck rumbling in the distance down our subdivision cul de sac.  “Why am I in bed?” I mumbled to myself as I stood in a daze in panties and a t-shirt, my typical home alone attire, and desperately looked around the room for bottoms to slip on.  It was an ordinary Thursday. I had got the kids up and off to school. My husband was off to work and I had started my work from my computer when I went to make the bed and decided I would crawl in for a just a minute and rest my eyes.  I must have drifted off. Exactly the sort of thing someone disciplined enough to manage a business from home is not supposed to do. And the damn garbage! I had completely forgotten to send it out with the kids when they went to catch the bus canlı bahis siteleri as I had promised.“Where are my jeans!  Shit. Shit. Shit!” I muttered as I really didn’t want to hear it from Jack that I screwed this simple household task up.  Deciding the t-shirt was long enough to be a swimsuit cover, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the two bags of garbage, exiting the front door just as the garbage man was using the electric lift to pick up the neighbor’s garbage can.  I could see his tanned, muscular right forearm working the lift as I glanced to the left. “Crap! The special garbage can!” I ran barefoot in my long t-shirt and panties to the side of the house and started trying to wheel the monster size trash can with one hand while balancing two non-tied bags of garbage in the other.The whole situation was awkward and I was still half asleep so it was no surprise that I stumbled, then face planted onto the open bags of garbage which spewed open as the trash can I was wheeling behind me slid to its side.  As I am on the ground mentally digesting the reality of what just happened, I look up to see a concerned face and that same tanned, muscular arm reaching down to help pull me up. “Are you okay, mam?” he said as I glared into his beautiful blue eyes and for a moment forgot what had just transpired until I realized something was stuck to my face.  I reached to my cheek and was mortified to feel spaghetti noodles from our 8 p.m. dinner.“I’m fine.  I’m so sorry that I forgot to put the garbage out,” I told him as if he really cared.He pulled me up and began trying to rebag the spewed garbage for me while staring directly at me still with that concerned look but also the look of someone who is seeing something canlı bahis unexpected and can’t look away.“Are you sure,” he said.  “You fell pretty hard, so maybe I should help you into the house and make sure you sit down.”“Sure,” was all I could manage to mutter as my face turned red with embarrassment and I pulled down my garbage-soaked t-shirt that was slightly hiked up from the unfortunate fall.He put his arm around me and guided me to the front door and stopped.  I opened the door and we both walked into the living room. I looked up at his slightly unshaven face again and suddenly noticed he was covered in spaghetti sauce on his arms and shirt just like I was.“Thank you so much,” I said. “You should clean up.  I’m so sorry to have made such a mess and now you’re all dirty.”He smiled for the first time, a beautiful sweet grin, and said, “I am a garbage man.  I’m always dirty.”Something about the way he said the word “dirty” made it evident he was flirting and my stomach tightened and I felt a flutter under the thin fabric of my silk panties.“Maybe we need to take a shower,” I said in a slow, flirty voice and then was shocked I had said it and wondered if he would even know what I meant.“I think we do,” he said as he stepped closer. “Seems we’re both very, very dirty.”Now the flutter in my crotch was a burning fire.  I put one hand on the side of his face and kissed him softly on the lips as I took his hand and guided it to wrap around me and placed it on my ass.  As his fingers began to creep under the back of my panties, I whispered, “Let me show you where the shower is.” I took his hand and walked him through my bedroom to the master bathroom.I pulled out the vanity stool and sat him down in front of me, bending to my knees to help him take off his boots.  I pinched his boot string between my thumb and forefinger and gave it a quick tug; our excitement increased and we both watched delightedly as the intricately secured bow slowly unraveled.

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