Gardening in the Nude

Stepping out the side door from her small house, Cecelia took a deep breath of country air. Overhead, the sun was bright and fluffy white clouds drifted by, casting patches of shadow across the green landscape. Here in this small section of the mountains, she could see miles upon mile of rolling green hills and unspoiled nature. It was the kind of place where one could be pretty confident that there wasn't another human for miles around, which was what gave her the confidence to step out of the house entirely in the buff except for a pair of dirty old sneakers and a pail filled with gardening implements.

When her mom had brought up the idea of moving to her grandparent's old house, Celia had been certain she was kidding. Since she'd graduated college, she had lived in one of the biggest cities on the east coast. It was a place that never slept and had no concept of quiet, the kind of place she always told herself she thrived in. If you wanted to go far in life and make real money, there was no better place, and she'd gladly embraced the lifestyle of long hours, little sleep, and no vacations to make Director at her company. It wasn't until last year, when she'd found herself crying at her therapist's office for what felt like the umpteenth time over how stressed she was that something clicked. Maybe mom was right.

So despite the risks and fears which a major life transition entailed, she'd finally made the leap, packed up her things, cancelled her apartment lease, and moved five hundred miles away to the middle of nowhere in order to start a new life. Frankly, it was terrifying. Yet after spending a week pacing around her new home, fretting over unpacking her boxes and repairing a few things which had broken around the property since it was last occupied, she finally settled. It wasn't on her own though. Rather, she'd found a letter in her grandmother's old dresser, addressed to her. It was as if gran had known she'd wind up getting too tired of life in the city. Relax, the note advised her. Don't try to do everything at once. Breathe. Take walks. Enjoy nature. And maybe, if you're feeling daring, try some naked gardening.

The suggestion had made her blush! Naked gardening?! Who would even do that? Yet it stuck in her head and after a few more days had gone by, she gave it a go, stepping outdoors with her dress in her arms in case she suddenly lost confidence. Soon she found there was no reason to be nervous, or modest. Without a single neighbor for miles, she could parade around in the buff without drawing even a lick of attention. After all, the rabbits and sparrows didn't care. Soon, she began to properly tackle the massive garden and turn it from an overgrown patch of briars into something that might one day grow a prize-winning pumpkin.

A garden, in her opinion, needed a scarecrow. Even if it didn't really do anything, it just felt proper to add one. And after all, the figure might be a nice sort of company, so she constructed one and dressed it in some old clothing she found in one of the sheds, with a pumpkin for the head. 'Jack' was the name written on the shirt tag, so Jack he became. As a sort of joke and a finishing touch once the thing was planted properly right beside the garden patch, she also affixed her old dildo into the open fly of its pants. The varnished wooden length was eight inches and somewhat narrow, almost artistic in the way it tapered towards the head and then flared out to create an abstract mushroom shape. For years she had daringly positioned it on a shelf in her living room amongst her collection of carved rocks and wooden sculptures. The potential that someone might notice what it was and call it out had excited her with its possibilities of where that could lead. She'd imagined a visitor to her apartment plucking the toy from her collection and brandishing it accusingly. 'Why would you put something like this on display?' they'd ask, prodding her face with its tip. 'You must want me to use it on you!' And then, she assumed, she'd give in and allow them to ravish her with it, reducing her to a sticky, filthy mess over several arduous hours.

Unfortunately, real life wasn't like the erotic fiction she sometimes read and if anyone ever noticed the toy situated there, they were always far too polite to mention it or bother to ravish her the way she dreamed of. Instead it sat unused while her collection of more advanced sex toys grew, their brightly colored silicone and complex vibration patterns far more exciting than a hunk of wood. The old dildo had only survived the move by being mindlessly tossed in a box. When she had discovered it, she decided to give it one last good romp in her bedroom before tying it onto her new scarecrow. Cecelia had laughed that the dick made him as much of a real man as the ones she'd slept with while trying to find herself. They might have seemed like the type she could imagine a future with while in bed, but as soon as her vision cleared post-orgasm, their potential for a real relationship was as threadbare as Jack's old flannel shirt.

"Jack," she'd said to him, slinging an arm across the scarecrow's hay-stuffed shoulders and flicking the tip of his 'cock', causing it to wobble. "You're the real man in my life now."

Cecilia wiped the back of a hand along her brow, streaking the sweaty flesh with flecks of dirt. Long hours bent over in the garden had left her tired but she couldn't help feeling proud as she surveyed her new domain. Over the past month she'd transformed an acre of weeds, thorns, and rocks into workable soil with mounds of sprouts already sticking through. Here and there, she'd supported vining beans with lattice and young tomato plants with stakes, their green leaves vivid against dark, damp soil. Rising, she dusted off her bare knees and retrieved the hose, lugging it into the garden so she could sprinkle the most recently planted row of seedlings with water.

"Some for you and some for me," she told them, holding the hose head up to squirt a blast into her parched mouth. After taking a few minutes to wash off her hands and knees, she retreated to the shade of the large sycamore tree nearby. Beneath the vast old branches, the air was cooler and moving leaves overhead created a soothing hush. Celia settled a lawn chair, putting her hands behind her head and crossing her ankles. A warm breeze rolled through, tickling against her bare flesh. She should have done this years ago. Spending so long stressing herself out at a souless job was never worth the money. Who cared about a fat paycheck when you came home every night too drained to do more than click on the TV and fall asleep? There was no satisfaction in her old life like the kind she felt now when she surveyed her garden. Thoughts of how much better her life had become since taking this leap played across her mind until they blended in with the whoosh of the breeze and the leaves, and she dropped off to sleep.

Tap. Tap.

With a jolt, she startled awake. How long had she been out? Cecelia raised a hand up to rub the sleep away from her eyes. Before it could cross above her nose, it hit against something long and solid. Gasping, she recoiled, eyes opening to a sight so unexpected that it made no sense. Directly in front of her face was a wooden length which jutted out from old, stained jeans and a worn red flannel shirt. As her gaze traveled upwards, she startled to realize what was stood in front of her chair. Jack. The faceless, expressionless pumpkin head was tilted downwards as if he was looking at her, his hay-filled body surprisingly bulky up close.

"What-" she exclaimed softly, heart suddenly pounding. No, this wasn't possible. Around him, the expanse of land was clearly visible, shadows indicating that it was just past noon. Everything felt just as it had when she'd sat down, even the wind still rippled softly through the long grass, moving bits of hay which were stuck out of the gaps in Jack's clothing. No, no matter how real the world seemed, there was no way. "You're not real. This isn't-" As the words left Celia's mouth, the scarecrow moved, his hips thrusting forwards to tap the dildo - his cock - against her lips again, just as he'd done to rouse her moments before.

Silenced, she stared at the scarecrow's cock, only a scant inch from her lips. Her heart was beating like it wanted to leap from her chest, terrified and disbelieving. What had she done? And what did he want? Again, the woman's gaze slid upwards to peer at the pumpkin which gave no hints of answers to her questions. Did it... Could it possibly want her to suck its cock? God, just the thought made her feel like she had been thrust into some fantasy land. She had to be crazy, having a heat stroke or something, but when Jack once more bobbed his hips forwards, this time leaving the tip against her mouth, her mind was made up.

Opening her lips to lay just around the edges of the scarecrow's cock, her tongue pressed forwards to lick the tip, tasting its wooden surface. There had been no rain since she'd made Jack and the taste of her own juices from that final romp still lingered on it. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that the supernaturally animated statue wasn't there and she was just licking her old dildo. That imagining was broken seconds later as the cock jolted again, leaping further into her mouth and pressing down her tongue against its underside. With her lips closed around the shaft, she had about half of the sturdy instrument inside of her mouth and had to lean forward to get more, causing the lawn chair to squeak and shift under her.

Deciding to try to treat the strange intruder like any other lover, she began to swipe her tongue along the scarecrow's dick, applying gentle suction to it. In response, her creation's previously erratic thrusts steadied, pushing deeper into her mouth, until it was trying to press into her throat, causing her to gag at the intrusion but not letting up. The farmer's eyes watered, fighting back the reflex which ignited as what had once been her dildo violated her throat against her own will. For his part, Jack shuddered violently, his full hay-stuffed body shaking in what must have been pleasure at using his creator's throat before pulling away and letting her breathe. Gasping around the now drool-covered wooden instrument, Celia swallowed, tasting the remnants of the pleasure she'd taken on his cock.

As Jack began to saw himself back and forth within her mouth, she clenched her thighs together, feeling a throb and a rush of wetness there. This- this thing, this statue she had made, was violating her body with the very toy she'd once fixed so many fantasies onto, the very thing she'd dreamed would be used on her unexpectedly. She could never have dreamed up anything like this, though. Celia's nose pressed into the button of the scarecrow's old jeans as he once more insisted on abusing her throat with the sturdy wooden dick, pushing it down her neck with a paranormal strength that brought another burst of pleasure from her body. Her hands pressed between her thighs and traveled upwards until they nestled against her now quite damp pussy. Not only was she enjoying her strange, silent partner, but she wanted more, far more.

This time, when the scarecrow pulled out and allowed her air again, she leaned back, away from the drool-saturated length, and pressed her hips towards the edge of the chair so her thighs could part and reveal the wetness which had built up between them.

"I don't know what you are, Jack," Celia told the creation in a voice which shook with conflicted desire. "But I think I want you to fuck me."

How he understood, if he understood at all, she would never know, but something in her words or actions prompted the straw man to withdraw, stepping backwards in his worn brown boots. The entire scarecrow's body had been given weight and substance in a way which boggled the mind and bent reality, but she could hardly even think about that in the moment. Rising, her head felt light and her vision almost tunneled, causing the woman to automatically reach out and grab hold of Jack's shoulders, which squished in slightly but remained supportive. Dryly, she swallowed as her stomach pressed against the straw-forged being's cock before backing away, towards the broad sycamore tree.

Within three steps, her bare back collided with the rough bark and the farmer lowered herself to the grassy earth below, Jack hobbling along to follow her with a stiff, unnatural gait. Yet despite Celia knowing that his legs were composed of long sticks, they bent naturally to kneel before her. Half-laying against the tree, knees bent and spread open, she felt dizzy with excitement and arousal. Could this really be happening? She surveyed the scarecrow's bulky, worn figure, licking her lips when her attention came again to the wooden cock. Adjusting her hips forward, she edged in closer to place her legs over his knees, her now visibly glistening wet pussy gaping open when she did. That, apparently, was all the prompting Jack needed. His rough gloved hands gripped her shoulders and pressed them down into the earth before he began to slowly sink his cock deep within the welcoming folds displayed before him.

A soft cry of aching pleasure stirred from within the woman as she was impaled. "Jack!" she sighed, her pussy now filled with his full length, their hips pressed tightly together. This time, she needed no prompting to move with him, his straw-filled body beginning to rock back to withdraw almost fully before pushing back in with a wet squish. Shudders of need climbed up across her, bringing forth a soft moan. Celia's hands found her breasts as he entered her again, rolling the buds of her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. She had no idea if he could see, if he cared at all, but she pulled at her nipples, letting the additional sparks of pleasure the motions drove send her higher in their union. Now her hips rose to meet the scarecrow's thrusts, pressing her clit into the rough denim of his pants. That stimulation made her back arch, bringing another, louder moan with it.

"Aah, fuck me, please," the woman cried, one hand departing her breast to rub feverishly at her clit as her creation picked up his pace, causing her to rock back into the tree behind them. Bark scratched at her skin but only added fuel to the fire of need which filled her belly. Unbelievable or not, real or not, she desperately wanted to be fucked into the ground by this scarecrow. He leaned in over top of her, hay falling from his seams onto her stomach as he worked the wooden cock harder and deeper, thrusting into her body as if he were a real man. No, this was better than a real man, Celia realized. This creature was a product of her needs and desires, doing exactly what she had always wanted. Her pussy clenched at that thought, sending the wonderful spasm of a small orgasm through her body and making her hairs stand on end.

Rolling her hips upwards, she was able to match pace at first, but soon became overwhelmed when the scarecrow jackhammered into her with supernatural speed and force. The motions caused her body to press up further into the tree trunk, his own oddly squishy yet firm torso pushing her against it until she could no longer control any part of their union. Jack was a force of nature, a being made by years of unfulfilled need, and he would ravish her with his wooden cock just as she'd always wanted. Squirming, moaning, the juices poured from her pussy, creating a damp patch on the denim which held his dick. What had once been comprehendable words of begging turned into babble, then desperate panting. As the pumpkin-headed being pushed her body fully up against the tree, she gave in, trembling as a wave of pleasure swept from the top of her head to her very toes. Every muscle within her pulsed as she came, her pussy pulling at his cock as if it wanted to consume him, consume the dreams she was finally experiencing.

That orgasm rode out over Jack's continued pounding for a time longer, until exhausted, she finally drooped back against the sycamore. Through bleary, post-orgasm eyes, she watched the scarecrow go still, its body devoid of breathing, empty of movement but for a faint rustling. Bringing her hand up, she trailed it over the bumpy, featureless head, stroking its surface with the tenderness of brushing against a lover's face. Celia felt incredibly sleepy, her body spent by the pounding she'd gotten. "Jack," she yawned, eyes falling into slow blinks which brought their lids closer and closer together.

Celia woke to a sky streaked with gold, the sun now so low that it cast long, deep shadows across her garden. Immediately, she sat up, turning this way and that. Where-

There. Jack stood by the edge of the tilled soil, his body stiff and unmoving, suspended by a post set deep into the earth. She rubbed her head, sitting up. Everything ached. Her muscles felt as if she'd been working out, and her pussy- Reaching between her legs, she felt herself, finding the mostly dried remnants of her drippings on her lower lips. With a suddenly renewed energy brought on by curiousity, Ceclia jumped up and half-ran towards the scarecrow. His body was just as she had made it, exactly what she remembered: worn clothing stuffed with hay and sticks. Not maimed, not destroyed as if she'd been assaulting it in her sleep. But on his groin? The dildo she'd placed there still jutted out proudly from the gap within his jeans. Hesitantly, she leaned in to examine it, sniffing. Immediately, the smell of sex met her nostrils. That wasn't the smell of the orgasm she'd had with her toys days ago. No, it was recent. Running a finger gingerly down the length, she found it a sticky patch, causing her heart to jolt. Celia stared at Jack's blank pumpkin head, breathless. There was no mistaking it.

After a moment of watching the creature to see if it would come to life, the woman bent over, touching her lips to the scarecrow's cock once more, this time of her own free will. Gently as she would for any lover, she used her tongue to clean off her juices, taking him into her mouth and sucking away the sweetly tangy fluids of her own arousal. After a breath, she even let him fully into her throat, lips able to sweep away what she'd coated the very base of his shaft with before withdrawing. Straightening, she rose up on tiptoe and leaned in, lips brushing against the smooth orange flesh of his head.

"Thanks, Jack," she whispered to the scarecrow. "See you soon."

[[Thank you for reading! This is the first piece I've written for Literotica so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.]]