Marvin's Garden

For TDM

ON THE FIRST WARM DAY last spring, I decided it was time to clear out some undergrowth around my yard. It had been 15 months since Trudy died, and I had done nothing except mow the lawn a few times without much enthusiasm. Some people manage grief by gardening or other useful activity. That wasn't my style, but now even I could see something needed to be done.

I figured if I cut out a lot of crappy stuff, I'd start to get somewhere. So I dug out the clippers, rake, tree saw, and other tools that had accumulated and went to work. After more than a couple of hours, I was sore, my hands hurt, my knees were stiff, and I had cleared out a small section of one corner of the yard. As I stood up to admire what little I had done, I noticed my neighbor sitting in her window at the corner of her house.

She and her husband had moved in during the past year. Trudy would have remembered the exact date and been able to tell me where they had come from, where they worked, and so forth. I do know that they had two young children, mostly because I had seen and heard them playing in the yard.

I waved to her. She didn't wave back. It looked like she was wearing sunglasses, and it was a warm day, so maybe she had dozed off.

Meanwhile, it was time for lunch. I sprayed the dirt off my hands with the hose and held my glasses under the gentle stream, wiping them clean with a handkerchief. I glanced at my neighbor again, and as my eyes focused, I began to realize that she may have been naked, or at least topless. My yard and the neighboring wood sloped downward from their house, and all I could see was the upper part of her torso. It was clear to me now that her breasts were bare and that what I thought were sunglasses looked like a sleeping mask.

I decided it was none of my business and went inside for lunch. When I came back out, the two children were running around in the yard, and she was there in shorts and a loose shirt. She waved to me as I headed across the porch. I waved back and went back to work.

The next morning, I was having breakfast at the table on the back porch. Looking at their house, I realized that I could not actually see the window in question from the porch. Trying to look casual, I walked down to where I had been working and confirmed that the window was sheltered by hedges on their side and that my only view of it was from behind the trees in the lower corner.

I did some more work later that morning, trying to keep my attention on the weeds. After a lunch break, I went back to the corner of my garden, and there she was again, naked and masked. This time, she was standing with her back to the window, arms on top of her head, and I got a clear view of her lovely back and what looked like a nice round bottom. I looked for a while and went back to work.

The next day, Monday, everybody was off at work and school (or wherever they went), and I was on my own. After lunch, I went up to my home office to review some notes from my part-time consulting gig. I discovered that I could see a part of that window where my neighbor had been sitting, with a view right down into the space where she sat or stood. Interesting, I thought, and went back to work.

I heard the children playing around 3:00. The mother was sitting in a lawn chair watching them. About an hour later, the husband came home. After a flurry of greetings, everybody went back inside. About 20 minutes later, I saw them in that side room. She dropped a robe she had been wearing and put on the mask. He set up a stool in front of the window, then guided her over to it, helped her sit, and attached something to her hands behind her back.

From where I stood, I could see her whole body, right down to her bare feet on the rungs of the stool. She seemed to have a slim build with small breasts, what Trudy would have called a playful handful, and a firm stomach. I could not see any pubic hair, so I suspect she was shaved down there. And there was little in the way of fat on her.

She just sat there, just displaying herself, I guess. After about ten minutes, the husband came out into the yard with a rod of some sort and a spray bottle. He tapped her a couple times with the rod. She jumped at first, then continued to sit there, twitching when he tapped her. Then he spritzed her a few times. It looked like she laughed and shivered, but she never left the stool. After some ten minutes, he went back inside and reappeared in the room, undid her hands, and helped her off the stool. They gave each other a big hug and walked away.

They must be into some kind of exhibitionist thing, and I wondered whether or not I should tell them that I have a particular vantage point. I wondered whether I should let them know.

I was out Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons. On Thursday, the same routine happened. Mother and children were outside around 3:00, the husband came home around 4:00, and she was on display in the side room about half an hour later. This time, she was sitting in an armchair next to the window, one leg curled up on the seat, the other resting against the arm of the chair. I'm not sure what you could see from ground level, but from my office, I could see everything, or at least would have been able to if my eyes and glasses were better. I thought of digging through the closet to find my old binoculars, but decided I'd rather spend the time seeing what I could.

This time, after letting her sit there for however long it was, he came up behind her, put his hands on the top of her head, then slid them down her shoulders, arms, and onto her stomach. As he bent down, I realized he was naked as well. She had turned her head up, and they were kissing passionately as his hands roamed over much more of her body. I decided that I would not justify watching them get further involved, either to myself or to the memory of Trudy. I went downstairs to make dinner.

I kept myself busy away from home on Friday afternoon in order to avoid all temptation of spying and decided that I would try to find a way to introduce myself to the husband and somehow bring up the topic.

Saturday turned out to be a nice day, good for working in the garden and for the young couple to be out playing with the children. At one point, when the mother was engaged with the children, I waved at the husband and introduced myself.

"Sorry about not making a connection when you first moved in," I said. "My wife died a year and a half ago, and I've only started coming out of my shell this spring."

His name was Greg, and he introduced me to his wife Megan, who was over by the house with the children, Brian and Emily. "Trudy, my wife, was always good about names," I said, "so I may have to work at remembering yours."

I started talking about the garden and my efforts to clean things up. He said he had some tools from his parents and would be glad to help, if the need arose. "Thanks for that," I said. "But could I show you something? I could use some advice."

He has to walk along the fence, which ran along two other neighboring gardens, to get into my yard. "I was working on clearing out this area," I said as I led him to the far corner of the yard. "I thought you should know what I discovered."

As he stepped into the corner, he started to say, "I'm not sure what you're . . ." Then he looked up. "Oh! You can see our room. And you must have seen us last weekend. I get it."

"Yes, and I just thought you should know . . . Not that I hang out here much . . . "

He wasn't even listening to me, but had gone back to the side of the yard and called his wife. "Megan, can you come around here? Marvin here has something to show you. Here, I'll come take the kids."

"No, wait . . ." I tried to stop him, but he was already out of my yard and into his, and Megan was coming toward me with a bright, expectant look on her face.

"I'm so glad we've had this chance to meet. What did you want to show me?"

She seemed so delighted to meet me and so innocent that I was really hesitant to show her, but there was no way I could get out of it, since I'd spoken to Greg. I led her to the corner of the yard. "I wanted your husband . . . And I guess, you . . . to know about this." I stood back to let her step into the corner. To my surprise, her reaction was the same as her husband's.

"You can see our room," she shrieked in what seemed like delight. "And you must have seen me there some day this week. I'm sorry, did that embarrass you? Oh, we can figure something else out, if that worries you."

"No, no, no," I was stammering as I tried to make my point. "I just wanted you to know what I found, so that you don't think I was spying on you or something like that."

She laughed and took my hand. "You stumbled onto our little secret. It's all right, trust me. Let me explain. Can you come over so Greg can join us?"

I followed her into her yard, by this time more curious than embarrassed. I met the children, shy Emily and boisterous Brian, who went on at some length about his new tricycle. Greg finally got the children into a playhouse near the house, and Megan sat with me in some chairs closer to the middle of the yard.

"You caught me in one or more of my submissive training sessions. We just started them. Back in college, I discovered I enjoyed exhibitionism, you know, getting naked in public and, sometimes, getting caught. When I fell in love with Greg, I had to tell him about it, since I didn't want to give it up, and he began pushing me to take more risks. At first, they were small things like unbuttoning my shirt in a restaurant when I didn't have a bra on, then it was walking through a crowd with a really loose shirt. Sometimes, he would take pictures or film me. Sometimes, we would just enjoy people's reactions.

"We were always careful, since we didn't want to get in trouble, but we did post a few

things on the internet, and it was fun to watch and see people's comments. When Brian was born, we sort of took it easy. After Emily was born, I wanted to get back into it, but it was hard with two small children. We managed, but it wasn't as often.

"When we moved here, and the children were in school, I started talking to Greg about being a sub, a submissive. It's something I've always wanted to experiment with, and I asked Greg to be my Dom, to train me, push me a little. We picked that room, since it's at an odd angle to the rest of the house, it's got the window which is not directly across from anybody - at least, so we thought - and faces into the woods. I think the previous owner built it as a sewing room for his wife. It seemed relatively safe for some experiments. We don't do it every day, but when we do, we get the children set up to do homework and spend half an hour or so, going through some training, and part of that has been to sit or stand at that window on display."

There was an outburst from the children, who suddenly dashed across the yard, Brian chasing Emily. Greg watched them for a moment to make sure they were safe, then came over to where we were talking. "So, has she filled you in on our story?"

"Yeah, although I'm not quite sure what to do with the information."

"Let me ask you this. Do you mind looking at her?" Greg asked.

"No, I don't mind, but I . . . "

"Because I think it's important for her to know that other people are watching. That was part of the thrill of the exhibitionist dares, getting caught. And I think the spectator is important in what we're doing."

Megan laughed. "It's a funny frame of mind. I don't set out to get caught, yet it's a thrill when somebody sees me. It will probably be a different kind of thrill when I know the person who is looking, but it's still a thrill. And I think it'd be nice for you to be that person."

"You don't know anything about me. You just met me, what, fifteen minutes ago?"

"You were decent to come tell us that you could see me, you haven't launched into some religious rant or leering innuendoes, and you seem like a nice person. From time to time, my intuition backfires, but that doesn't stop me from relying on it. And I know Greg well enough to know he agrees."

She had one of my hands in hers, and the feeling was so comforting and inviting and, yes, sexy, particularly since I had seen her stark naked not so long ago. Suddenly a rush of feeling almost overwhelmed me, and I flinched a bit.

"Is something wrong?" Megan asked in a sort of alarm.

"No, it's fine. My wife used to take my hand like that, when I was getting frantic about something, usually something silly. Even when she was in the hospital, hooked up to an IV, she . . . " I stopped and reached back to take Megan's hand. "Sorry if I scared you. And thank you. I'll be glad to watch you from time to time."

And so I became their official spectator, or audience, or voyeur. I started to organize my days around the 4:00-5:00 hour, working on that corner of the garden or in my office.

After watching her from the office a couple of times, I decided they wouldn't mind if I dug out the binoculars Trudy had bought when she developed an interest in identifying local birds. That did not last long, and they started gathering dust. It took me a couple days to find them.

A few days later, I was in my office around 4:30, when I saw Greg move their armchair into the space by the window. Then he led Megan to the chair. She was naked except for the blindfold mask over her eyes. She sat down and lifted her legs to the arms of the chair, so they were spread wide. She crossed her hands behind her head. Greg said something to her, then he set something on the floor and walked away.

I stared at her for a few minutes, a gem of beauty in a standard setting. She seemed to shimmer in the sunlight that came through the window, though that could have been a trick of my aging eyes. After a few minutes, I brought up the binoculars to take a closer look.

When I got them into focus, I was surprised at how powerful they were. I was very close to her face, almost to the point where I wondered if she could feel my presence. Her face seemed longer and less round than I had remembered from our conversations in the garden. I wondered if that was an effect of being naked or of wearing a mask. Around her neck, she wore a black choker necklace with the word SLAVE in rhinestones. I was caught off guard by the implications of the word, then decided this was part of their game.

I started to explore her body, shifting from her face to her well-toned arm and down along her ahoulder and smooth armpit to her left breast, the small mound sagging slightly off to the side, yet still enough of a mound to give the nipple a lift. The stiff nipples were a russet tone with a ring of bumps around the areola. Definitely, a pair of playful handfuls.

From the breasts, it was a smooth trip down to her stomach, which seemed quite tight, no doubt the result of regular exercise, though there were stretch marks around her belly button and a small fold of flesh that was like a boundary between her upper and lower abdomen, both features probably resulting from pregnancy and, of course, age.

I tried to hesitate for a moment before I traveled all the way down to her crotch. I wanted to preserve the illusion that I was being a conscientious adult, but gravity and lust, to be honest, worked their wonders. Just below the first indentation of flesh that announced the beginning of her vagina, there were two thick folds of darker flesh, her labia, thick and prominent, filling the lenses of the binoculars with a sultry presence that took my breath away. I had to pull back a moment to regain my balance.

When I took up the binoculars again, I wanted to look at her legs, but my hands and eyes went right back to her pussy and those delectable lips. I remembered when Trudy and I started sleeping together, I was fascinated by her labia, not as prominent as what I was seeing with Megan, but nonetheless mysterious to me. My awareness of female genitalia had been pretty limited, mostly gained from Playboy and similar magazines, which at the time were not given to much detail. As I spent more time exploring Trudy, I became fascinated and, I think, obsessed with these folds of sensitive flesh that shifted so delicately under the slightest touch and open me up to such heady experiences. I think she got a little impatient with some of my fixation, but not when I began kissing and licking and probing.

I shook my head to clear it. I wanted to get back to exploring Megan's body. She had not moved, so far as I could see, and I took a long look at her legs, well-toned like her arms, the legs of a woman who exercises regularly. Her feet were well-shaped, her toes even and the nails a sedate shade of red.

I moved my gaze up and down a few times, taking in every detail, fold, texture, and sense of her body on open display. After several such scans, she flinched. I lowered the binoculars and saw that Greg was kneeling next to the chair, picking up what he had put down at the beginning, which turned out to be a timer. I was startled, though not necessarily surprised, to see that he was now naked. As he stood up, he stroked up her leg, across her stomach, and onto her breast. She shifted her legs off the arms of the chair, and he reached behind her head, apparently to untie her hands. As she lowered her hands, she massaged them to get the blood circulating. She looked up at him with a smile. He bent down to give her a tender kiss, and her hands reached out to take his stiffening cock into her hands.

I stepped away and put the binoculars down. I had seen a lot and was not sure that I wanted to go further at this point. I went back downstairs and found some things to keep me busy for the rest of the day. That night, as I lay in bed, for the first time since Trudy died, I started stroking my own cock. I am past the age of hardons and rocket ejaculations, but I can still find pleasure and still cum in my own way. And that night, with recalled images of Megan's naked body stretched out before me, I did just that.

The following Saturday, I was working in the garden again, trying to clean up a flower bed that had seen better days when I heard Megan call to me. She was wearing tight shorts and a cutoff t-shirt, yet she looked quite covered up.

"How are you?" I called out.

"Good. How have you been doing?"

I chatted about some random things that had been going on, then I noticed that the children were not around.

"Greg's taken them to a cousin's for the afternoon. He decided to give me a break." She stepped closer. "I wanted to ask, have you been watching any of my sub training?"

My throat got tight. I was expecting one of them to ask me about this at some point, but not just after I had examined her so closely or just after I had seen him naked and obviously aroused. But there she was with a big smile on her face, so I said, "I have, you look lovely."

She giggled, then pushed me a little bit. "You can do better than that, can't you?" Her smile was so encouraging that I was caught off guard. "Yes, I watched. I'd get mesmerized and lose track of time." I was hoping she would leave it there, but she kept going.

"Did you see me two days ago, when I was seated in the armchair with my legs on the arms?"

I'm pretty sure my blush gave me away before I said anything. "Yes, I did. I had found some old binoculars I had and got a very long and close look."

Her eyes sparkled. "Tell me more."

I took a breath to settle myself. "I had forgotten how strong the binoculars were. I started with your face, moved along your arms, down your chest and stomach, and I admit that I was captivated by your pubic area." I figured at this point I had nothing to lose by going into detail, but relied on what I thought of as technical language. "Your labia are quite remarkable and lovely. The sight of them reawakened memories of my wife and our sexual life together. Not that hers were as substantial as yours, but I was entranced by them whenever we made love."