In Your Garden - Audio

I'm standing in the garden, the one we tended together. The moonlight transforms all the usual greens to a blue-black-silver.

I breathe in and smell the sweet peas you loved so much. Their fragrance a deep and heavy reminder of how infectious your laughter was. It tickles my nostrils and fills my lungs with a lighthearted laugh.

I'm barefoot like you used to be. Every day, tending the garden without shoes and picking thorns from your feet with your bare teeth. Your flexibility always astounded me. Nothing made you happier than feeling soil on your soles.

It grounded you and now you are with the ground wholly and finally. A macabre wish come true in a way.

I rest my hand on my heart to calm its quiver from the wicked humor my mind comes up with at inappropriate times. The weight of my hand on my skin makes it easy to imagine that it's you. I can feel the warmth of you entering through my center and radiating across my entire chest. My nipples harden. My mind takes note and puts that away to examine later.

There's a warmth behind me now, over my entire backside. My breath escapes and I see my chilling cloud waft with the wind. I whisper your name and tell you I miss you. Your warmth travels up my neck and over my skull, tingling along the way. I imagine kissing you and I can almost feel your lips kissing back, there in the garden among the sweet peas and tomatoes.

I lay down in the moss bed we made for viewing the world from the point of view of the plants. I think of viewing the world from where your body lies beneath the surface of the earth. First feeling a chill from the cold, wet soil that surrounds you. But then I examine each granule of soil, sand, and clay and understand the chemical composition of the place I am in. I watch the bugs that benefit from decomposition and live their best and varied lives. You always loved everything about the soil.

Now I feel you above me. My eyes are closed, and I can smell the damp earth and the moist moss under my back. The tingling begins again but this time in my abdomen and the vulnerable connection between above and below.

Again, my nipples harden despite my layers of comfort. My body is turned on thinking of you. I can feel you. I wonder if you are here now trying to help me feel good, to move the grief through my body.

You gave me so many massages. So many hours clocked relieving me of aches and pains. Without effort I recall your touch there on my upper thigh. A firm and comforting pressure casually marking invisible circles. Ever so lightly and inconspicuously grazing against my labia occasionally. It's an intense pleasure, often times too much, but your soft and unassuming stimulation was welcome and thoughtful.

The tingling and heat intensify the longer I lay there and imagine your hands gliding across my skin, encouraging my blood and energy to circulate through my entire body--never leaving a crevice unexplored.

I start to feel excitement between my ass cheeks. With a smile I ask you out loud if you remember when we did that "butt stuff", as we called it. I really mostly hated it but there was a unique pleasure feeling that kept me going back when you offered. I recall the physical enjoyment of your tongue and the pressure of feeling full. My body recreates these feelings, or maybe your spirit is visiting for a booty call. Either way, I am joyous to feel your energy again.

I can feel you slowly sink into my anal depths while indirect vibration inspires my clit through wadded sheets. It's wave after wave of pleasure and I wish I could truly feel that again right now. Though I'm finding satisfaction in the ache of letting go of such connection and trust. Enjoying memories of when we got each other all worked up just to do nothing about it. Tonight, though, I want to cum.

In my bed, now, it's nice and warm wrapped in cool cotton sheets. Facedown, I place my wadded-up comforter snuggly under my eager labia. Up and down, side to side, I wriggle my torso atop my bed to start my engine.

I remember the many times you brought my fantasy to life--being touched while sleeping. Pausing while applying pressure to my clit through the layers of blanket, I rely on my vivid imagination as I assume you remain in the garden these days.

I'm pretending to sleep lying next to you in our bed. I can't feel you shift your body around because my bed is just that good. But I do feel your hand slip under my underwear and gently graze my ass. You rub me lightly and grab my right cheek before sliding over to the other one and doing the same thing.

You remove your hand and rest it on the outside of my underwear for a few minutes. I'm starting to drift when I feel your finger sliding down into my underwear again, right down my crack. You reach my little anus and rest a finger over the opening. Tingling with anticipation, my puckered ass invitingly releases tension. Your finger slips deep between my cheeks. I contract my anus, attempting to suckle your fingertip.

You recognize the opportunity and press deeper in sync with my contractions. My breathing must have quickened because you pause and hold your position for a few minutes. I intentionally breathe deeply and exhale fully to bring my body back to calm in hopes that you will continue.

I concentrate on releasing tension from my ass again. I sigh inaudibly when you remove your finger abruptly. I can feel the cold air fill your absence behind me. It's not long before you return, gently and intentionally.

Slowly. Centimeter by centimeter I feel the elastic of my underwear dragging down my hips sending shivers across my skin. Skillfully and with great patience, you remove my underwear without disturbing me.

Soon your thumb is massaging the rim of my asshole. Round and round, without entering, you go. Sometimes swiping over the entrance with more pressure. I try to stay relaxed and still to encourage you to keep going.

Your hands spread my cheeks apart and something tiny and wet pokes at my center. Little timid laps tease my rosebud. Slowly, cautiously you venture further, and our cheeks meet. Your stiff tongue points its way into my tiniest hole and juts in and out for several minutes.

I thoroughly enjoy how long you spend eating my ass. Mostly because of how much you like it and partly because it feels good. The sensation of your tongue is far better than any finger or a toy. Your tongue is so soft and malleable and effortlessly wet. Yet, when you want to take control and harden you can thrust at will.

I can hear shuffling of blankets and clothing while I lay there, motionless and happy. You return my panties with grace and care. My heart is pounding, and blood is rushing to my clit and asshole.

Humping my blankets in the present, my skin is damp with sweat and my ass muscles are clenching desperately for an orgasm. I thrust my hips into my hands and call out your name as I reach bliss. Utter bliss. Moaning as I melt into our memories.