The Garden

bylindiana©

Dearest,

I am sitting here looking out the window at the garden you planted last spring. I am sure you remember it well. You begged and pleaded for a small plot to practice your green thumb abilities on. Eventually, I caved in and rented a soil tiller at the local lawn and garden shop. One lovely Saturday, the sun bright and not too hot, we measured off a 6' x 6' plot and I tore up the soil. Your giggles of delight as the fresh dark dirt was exposed lit up my soul and I could not help but smile at your pleasure.

We worked most of the day on it. Once the tilling had been completed, we brought out the rakes I had purchased and smoothed the soil out. While I returned the tiller, you pulled the stones out and set them neatly around the edge, forming a short but charming stone wall. In the afternoon, we began to plant the heartier items. Some things would be transplanted and you were planning on handling that yourself Monday while I was off at work.

In the evening, you made a light supper of pasta and salad which we ate upon the terrace under candlelight as we admired the garden. We were so enamored with it and each other at the time that the silence was even pleasurable. We had a bottle of wine and perhaps that made us more open because soon I had dragged you over to the garden to dance.

We took off our shoes and danced in the dirt. I could feel it squishing up between my toes and I was sure you could feel the same. I had a buzz from the wine and from your nearness and so, of course, I paused in the dance every few moments to give you a long, lingering kiss. It was a full moon and there was not a cloud in the sky. The stars twinkled above like a million diamonds. And the soft light sprinkled off your hair as well, making it sparkle, as your eyes glowed with happiness.

You always said my hands were quick and it did not take long for me to disrobe you. I slid off your dirt-stained pants and your sweet smelling panties. Then I pulled your beige t-shirt and bra over your head. When you stood naked before me, giggling like a garden sprite, I stripped myself, all smiles.

I led you down into the dirt upon your back. You spread your legs immediately, welcoming me between them. I could smell the soil and you and the combination was heady. I was immediately hard and ready and plunged into you like I had plunged into this project...without hesitation and with delight. Your legs crept up to circle my waist, pulling me into you and into the Earth, as you began to whimper in pleasure. Your eyes were wide and animalistic as we writhed and enjoyed each other's bodies out in nature.

My hands slid over your flesh, feeling its earthiness as I filled you with my cock. My fingers dug into you as if you were dirt, trying to turn it over. My mouth found the hard tips of your breasts and began to feast on them as if they were fruits of the soil. You were softly crying with pleasure as I thrust in and out of your warm wetness, possessing you so completely. Your ass was being pressed repeatedly into the turned soil as I pushed into you. Then as I pushed, you would lift yourself against me with your own thrusts. I began to moan with the joy of it, the joy of you. Making love to you out here in the garden was a delight but it was also edgy and new. It was erotic because in some ways it was forbidden. There was no concern on my part that the neighbors might see or hear. If they did, I did not care. At the moment, I was focused on our pleasure.

Your fingers clung to my shoulders as you slammed your body against mine, eager to reach the peak of your passion. I laid kisses across your face as your eyes opened to gaze into mine. My thrusts into you were timed with your up thrusts to me as we were then so perfectly in time with each other. I could feel my release rising from deep inside my balls, trembling to the surface with the speed and power of a freight train. I knew your own climax was near as I could feel your body shivering beneath me and I knew it was not from cold.

Then you reached orgasm and I felt your cunt clenching around me, sucking me in, as my own release quickly followed as stream after glorious stream of my seed jetted into your womb, into your fertile field, as we lay upon the turned soil of our new garden.

It was a delicious way to christen it and I suppose in our own way, we were fertilizing the soil. When our senses returned to Earth, we both began to chuckle at our need to fuck in the garden. But it did not stop it. Life was meant to be enjoyed and we were both such free spirits that night, one with the Earth, one with the Moon, one with the stars. I think it was probably one of the best nights of my life.

The garden proved fruitful and we harvested a great many vegetables from it over the summer. I can still remember how juicy the tomatoes were and how you swore they were the best you ever ate. I remember the hours we spent snapping the beans, talking about how people had to do this in the old days before you could simply buy a can of beans at the grocery. It was a good summer, a fruitful one.

Now I look out the window at the garden. It is covered in over a foot of snow. Nothing is growing in it now. And I sit here writing you in the chill of my house, wearing that old cardigan you so despised. But you are not here to chastise me. The garden was our greatest triumph but not enough to keep us together. So you are gone. And I am alone in our garden. Missing you.

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