Editor's Note: This story contains scat and golden showers content. Do not read if you are offended by such content.
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I had long fantasised about fucking Jill in the garden, but waited for summer’s full heat to come on before enacting the scenario I had pieced together in my head. Then, when the day came on which she had agreed to be my gardener, she put on the clothes I had bought for her - a plain, white cotton, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of very brief, tight, khaki-coloured shorts - pulled on a pair of my old boots and, pausing at the wooden shed outside my back door to collect gardening gloves and tools, ventured into the garden. I had given her a long list of tasks to perform, some relatively easy - weeding, pruning bushes, others more difficult and tiring, like sawing the dead branches off a lemon tree. All morning as she worked I stayed inside the house with the blinds down and the air conditioning on, watching TV and sipping vodka and ice.
Some time after midday I went out to join her. I was a little bit light-headed from the vodka and wearing only a shirt. I walked over to where Jill was kneeling in a flower bed. She had weeded it and turned over the soil, and now she was planting geraniums. She looked hot and flushed, the shirt sticking sweatily to her back and big damp patches evident under her arms (she had rolled the sleeves back to her shoulders, which were pink from the sun’s rays). She turned as I approached, half rising onto her knees and deliberately and ostentatiously running the back of one hand across her forehead, leaving a dark wet smear of earth there. Her clothes were dusty and her arms, legs and boots were caked with dried mud.
"Keep going," I said. She bent back down in front of the purple flowers and I stood watching her for a while. As she patted the earth around the plants she leant forward, her arse raised. The shorts barely covered the lower half of her buttocks, the gusset biting deeply in the cleft between them. As she continued to work I ran my hands over her back, arse and between her sweaty thighs. "Hot work," I said.
"Yes, but I’m almost finished." Giving the soil a last slap she stood up, examined her handiwork, then walked to where the hose was rolled up on a wheel nailed to the side of the shed. Unrolling it a little, she turned on the tap and sprayed a fine mist over the newly planted flowers.
"Here, give me that," I said, taking the nozzle out of her hands. I adjusted the flow to a thin stream. "You’re dirty," I said. "Let’s wash you off." I played the stream onto her breasts. With a sigh of pleasure she lifted her arms up and slowly turned around until her clothes were soaked. The white shirt had become transparent, clinging to her tits, the nipples jutting out darkly. Having finished dousing Jill I pointed the hose at the ground and watched as a pool of water formed. "Strip," I said.
Jill pulled the wet shirt over her head, kicked off the boots and pushed the sopping shorts down her legs. While her face, arms and legs were pinkish the rest of her body was a brilliant white in the sunlight. She had shaved her pubes that morning under my instructions and her pussy looked smooth and clean. "The only thing is," I said, "I think I prefer you dirty."
"Here," I said, taking her by the arm and leading her to the spot I had watered. "Squat down." She got down on her haunches, her arms extended behind her and her hands planted in the wet soil, her arse a couple of inches from the ground, her legs parted. "Now, lower yourself slowly so that your pussy is touching the mud." She did as I said, trembling slightly from the awkwardness of the position.
"How does it feel?" I asked.
"Cold," she said. "Rough. Wet."
"Push yourself further down in it. Sit in the mud." There was a faint squelching sound as she wiggled her arse more deeply into it. Putting a hand to her chest I pushed her back a little. She fell onto her elbows, her legs, her legs parting wider. Her vagina gaped open, pink and glistening. Reaching forward, I scooped up a handful of mud and, without warning, pushed it right into her cunt. She gasped, trembled, but maintained her position. "How about that?" I said. "You dirty girl. Look at your cunt - it’s filthy. It’s covered in mud.
"It’s filthy," she repeated, looking down at it as my fingers played in her muddy cunt, squishing the dirt around her vulva and clitoris. Scooping up another handful of the stuff, mixed with twigs and bits of leaf, I smeared it over her breasts and belly, marveling at the feel of the cool, gravelly, clotted earth against her smooth skin.
"Open your mouth," I said. Taking a bit of earth between my fingertips I put it in her mouth, rubbing it over her tongue and around her teeth so that it mixed with her saliva, then stood up. My cock stuck out stiffly from underneath my shirt. I slid it into her mouth and she sucked obediently, her tongue licking at my balls, the grit in her mouth producing a pleasantly rough sensation.
I heard voices and, looking to my right, saw flashes of colour in the cracks between the fence palings. There were people in the garden next door. I thought how easy it would be for one of them to glance through the fence at us. The idea excited me and my cock got harder. The beginnings of a cool breeze wafted over my body, which was damp with sweat.
I withdrew my cock from Jill’s mouth and she lay on her back, stretching her arms out and moving them lazily in the mud. "Turn over," I said. "Get on all fours like a dog. That’s it, like a dog, scrabbling about in the dirt." She rolled over as requested, most of her body now smeared with earth, her muddied arse towards me. I picked up the hose again and held it so a trickle of water fell between her buttocks, washing a clean path from anus to slit. For a moment I pressed the nozzle against her puckered arsehole. Her body tensed - she thought I was going to push the cold metal into her - but I let it drop again. "Now you’re just like a dog, your arse open and visible to anyone. Why don’t you piss like a dog? Can you do that?"
"I can do that." As if she had been holding back all this time she cocked one leg, dog style, and a ragged stream of urine arced into the mud, some of it splashing onto my bare foot. "That’s good," I said. "Just do what you feel like. You’re a dog - you don’t care what you do or who sees you. You could piss in the street and no-one would care. You could do a shit and no-one would bat an eyelid. Why don’t you do a shit for me now?"
There was silence for a moment, broken only by a faint hum of insects. Jill hunched forward, hands and knees planted firmly on the wet earth. As I watched, entranced, she began to clench and unclench her buttocks, the effort forcing a further little trickle of piss through her urethra. Then her anus bulged, opened, and a little brown dot became a dark, glistening tube which extended tail-like, not breaking until it reached the ground.
Grabbing Jill by the hips I pushed the head of my cock against her arse. It slipped easily into the shitty, distended hole. She fell forward, her face and chest sliding into the mud, and I followed, my hands landing on the ground just under her armpits. As I pushed myself in and out of her tight, hot rectum I threw my head back, the sun shining onto my face, my eyes closed, bright golden spangles and whorls dancing in the redness, and for a moment, as I came, shooting my sperm into Jill’s bowels, I thought I was fucking the planet, the very earth itself.