Not Her Normal Kind of Day

At some time in the future Linda Greer would enjoy recalling the unexpected way she was feeling on that day, not to mention the eventual outcome. Although having, what she considered to be, a normal healthy attitude to sex, she had never found the need to chase after it. There had been occasions when she could go months without it. Although such times were never desirable, she could always bury herself in her writing to help any needs to pass. Since losing her virginity, in a forgettable manner, when she was eighteen, she had been involved in a few short-term affairs, some of them quite pleasant, many leaving her thinking that sex could be a very overrated pastime.

Why, at age thirty five, she had chosen to marry Herbert Linkler, twenty years her senior, she would never know. Not true, of course, she did know. He was an extremely handsome man, distinguished, with abundant charm, a pleasing manner, and a ready wit. The fact that he was a fabulously wealthy entrepreneur, she only learned after she had agreed to marry him. What she learned after they were married and then, his shock admission, which she might have guessed, led to their early divorce agreement, in which Linda got to keep this large house set in two acres of grounds.

So it was, on this particular day, that Linda stepped out onto the wide patio at the rear of the house, and stood viewing the extensive sunlit lawn and the shaded tree area almost three hundred metres away. She had spent the morning writing in her studio upstairs, trying to shed the strange sensations that had made her skin tingle when she had taken her shower that morning.

The thrill caused by rubbing her soaped hands over her breasts and belly had astonished her. This was something she did every day but it had never produced this near-elation. She had to use a sponge to wash between her thighs as she feared what affect her own fingers would have sliding over her vulva.

By now, she had passed it off as some kind of spasm, but the eroticism of the moment stuck in her mind. Her Shih Tzu, Pipsi, came snuffling alongside her, looking, wide eyed up at her, hoping there might be a treat in store. Linda bent and scratched Pipsi behind the ears causing her tail to wag. "My sole companion, aren't you, Pipsi?" she said gently. "Come on, we've some gardening to do."

There was a regular old gardener who came along fortnightly to tend to most of the bigger jobs, but Linda had noticed some weeds among the geranium patch near the front gate, and had armed herself with a trowel, a kneeler and a light bucket to hold any weeds. Normally for a task like this she might have worn a shirt and jeans, but the day being so pleasantly warm she wore only her button-up pale blue summer dress over a thin pair of panties. No bra, Linda's breasts were firm enough, and being proud of that, she rarely wore one.

Pipsi raced ahead of her, sniffing eagerly along the wall that separated the adjacent properties. A wall so high that Laura hardly knew the people in that property. All these mansion style residences were spaced along one side of the lane, and across from her garden a low hedge bordered open fields. The garden was shut off from the lane by a high, barred metal fence, with the bars spaced just close enough to ensure Pipsi could not squeeze out.

The geraniums were flowering a gorgeous red right up to the fence. Laura knelt and began trowelling out offending dandelions and chickweed. She didn't mind getting her hands dirty, finding that gloves made gripping firmer weeds difficult. Reaching out further for one obstinate dandelion she became of aware of Pipsi whining. It was a whine than seemed to be echoed. Looking up she saw Pipsi, tail wagging furiously, pressing her nose to the bars of the fence, beyond which a small brown terrier with equal eagerness was nuzzling at her. Both tongues licked hungrily.

It was at that point that the man appeared, his voice raised, "Max, come away." He stopped when he saw Laura's crouched figure, and as he gazed at her, he muttered, "Oh, sorry."

As soon as she saw him, Laura became very aware that the already loosened top of her dress was, given the position she was in, drooping to reveal more than a generous amount of cleavage. This was a total stranger who was staring down at her exposed flesh.

Yet, here and now, she couldn't care less where this stranger's eyes rested on her body. As she tried to clamber to her feet, she knew, somewhere deep down inside her, that her earlier unexpected tactile urges had been leading to this moment, this encounter.

Getting to her feet, her eyes were extolling how darkly handsome he was. Linda stood, momentarily speechless, dusting soil from her hands, longing to straighten her shoulder length hair. The stranger was more than six feet, broad chested, and dressed in a short-sleeved shirt, which revealed muscular arms. She couldn't help noticing that his shirt was almost an identical colour to her own dress.

"Hot day for gardening," he said in a deep brown voice, with a warm smile that set her blood racing. God, Linda Greer, what's wrong with you? She was trying to find relevant words, when words were usually the tools of her trade.

"Too hot," she said meekly, knowing that she wasn't talking about the weather. The moistening between her thighs told her that. Hell, that shouldn't be happening so readily. Almost desperately, she saw him smile again as he said, "I'll get you a good lawyer."

Uncertain, she said, "Pardon me?"

A wider brighter smile lit his face as he explained, "Behind those bars you could be a prisoner. See, Max is trying to get your dog to escape." Laura looked and saw that Pipsi had moved further along the fence and the terrier, called Max was keeping pace with her, as they continued licking through the bars.

Shocked at herself, but knowing exactly where she was leading this, Laura said, "Pipsi's a bitch, but she's been spayed."

That leg weakening smile again, as he said, "Yes, I had Max done when he was six months old." He laughed, and she was sure his eyes swept over her body as he added, "We humans can be so cruel."

Every fibre of her body yearned for her next move, while in the back of her mind a voice screamed, 'You never open up to a total stranger!' But, her pulse racing, she went ahead and said it, "Would you mind him coming in so that they can play together?" He must know this had to include him.

That laugh again, as his brown eyes held hers, "If it's no trouble. Keeps them from being frustrated."

Trying to control her breathing, Linda said, "Bring him to the gate. I'll open it slightly so you can pop him through or Pipsi might try to get out to him." He nodded and moved to grab his dog by the collar. Linda went to the metal pillar where the power feed for the gate was. She gave a single push and Max was guided in, and instantly the two animals were licking and circling at each other, ending up in with front paws against each other.

"Looks like a dance," the man said, as Linda, still questioning this action in one part of her mind, pressed the gate switch further, allowing him to slip through,

That devastating smile again as he said, "Thanks for this." Then he held out a hand, and said, "I'm Brad."

She looked at the broad hand he offered, and held up her own soiled hands apologetically. "Oh, I don't mind a bit of dirt," he told her, and Linda wondered if that was a deliberate double entendre, or was that all in her mind, while she rubbed her right hand furiously against the skirt of her dress, vaguely aware that her vigour had popped the lower button.

Tentatively, she held out the scrubbed hand as she gave him her name. The grip of his hand on hers was strong, yet strangely gentle. Almost like a warm caress, she told herself, as the connection sent tingles up her arm, and down through her body. What would that hand feel like on her breast? How was she going to handle this? Her weak-willed body had been telling her exactly what she wanted, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

In the meantime, the two dogs had chased each other away along the side of the house. "They seem to get on well," Brad said.

"And there's no way to get out-" Not for you, anyway, her naughty inner voice said. "We'll take their route to the back patio. There's shade there."

They started walking, side by side, along the gravel path, and Brad told her, "I only walk Max along this lane so I can admire these very fine houses. Have you lived here long?"

Very aware that their bare arms were almost touching, Laura wondered how cautious she needed to be with her answers. The first one would be the easiest, "Nearly two years."

"Mm, not long. Your husband in business?"

Even though she knew a quiet lie was the wisest policy, she found herself admitting, "We were divorced over a year and a half ago." She glanced at him to define his reaction, and his eyes widened, before he said, "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It was for the best."

"And this magnificent house?"

"Part of my settlement."

"But the upkeep?"

"I have my own income. I write."

"Journalist?"

"Books."

"Might I have read anything you've done."

"Not unless you're into cookery or romance."

He laughed as he said, "Neither of them could be classed as my best subjects."

Linda was pleased that she could laugh with him on that one. "You're not married?" A necessary question, she felt.

When he didn't respond immediately she glanced at him. He had half turned his face away as he mumbled, "My wife died two years ago."

Linda was shocked by this news and she quickly apologised. His brown eyes rested on her face, and he said gruffly, "You get used to being alone." And then quickly followed up with the question she had dreaded, "Surely you aren't in this large house on your own?"

Here was a stranger, one that she was now hoping to get to know an awful lot better, but to admit to living alone? Was that prudent? "I can keep myself busy, And the house has a million security devices that my ex installed." To change the subject, she asked, "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm in plumbing. I have--" He was stopped as they reached the rear corner where he would see the wide lawn and the trees beyond. He uttered a hearty "Wow!" when he viewed it all. The two dogs were dashing madly about, occasionally disappearing into the distant trees. "I'm so grateful for giving Max this opportunity to enjoy a scamper around."

Linda was thinking, 'I hope I might give you something to be more thankful for.' Immediately she reminded herself that she was the one looking to be thankful. That warmth in her lower body had not receded, in fact, as they talked she was sure it had intensified. Her panties felt drenched and rather uncomfortable under her dress. However, she managed to maintain a level of normalcy by asking him to take a seat at the patio table, before asking, "Would you like a refreshing cold drink?"

"That sounds interesting."

"A recipe direct from one of my books. And what about one of my special snacks?"

He looked up at her. Such deep brown, honest eyes, "If it isn't any trouble."

"I enjoy it," she said, and hurried inside to the kitchen, where the first thing she did was to wash her hands and lower arms. She then quickly took a couple of scones from a container, and cutting them in half, liberally spread them with blackcurrant jam. From the fridge, she took what she called her 'speciality', four brandy snaps. Even the cream filling the interior had been her own version.

As she was setting up the snack, her mind was playing with the way she intended to ask Brad some leading sensuous questions. The thoughts had her smiling, but, at the same time troubled her. Also from the fridge she took a jug of her lemon drink. Then with brandy snaps and jammed scones on separate plates, she placed them on a tray alongside the jug and two glasses. At the door, she checked and placed the tray down on a bench. Telling herself that it was because of the discomfort, but knowing in her heart that there was a more positive reason, she shuffled out of her very wet panties and stowed them into the washing machine.

Stepping onto the patio, Linda hesitated for only a moment. Was she really capable of acting so wantonly? What was pushing her? Hadn't her sexuality always been cool and under control? Taking a deep breath, she set the tray on the table, enjoying Brad's nod of appreciation. She placed a glass in front of him, and with, what she hoped was cunning deliberation, she leaned over the table to pour the lemon drink. Watching as she poured, she saw Brad's eyes shift from her action, up to where she knew her dress was gaping.

"Try that," she said boldly, stepping back to watch his reaction as he sipped.

Taking a gulp from the glass, Brad's head nodded, "My God that is so refreshing. And you made this?"

Modestly, Linda nodded her head, and as Brad picked up a scone, she sat on a chair close to him. As intended, she selected a brandy snap. The official seduction began here, she hoped. She watched him eagerly as he bit into the scone.

"That's just great," he mumbled over the mouthful.

"You'll even find the jam recipe in one of my books," she said proudly. Then knowing his eyes were on her she went into her intended routine. "Would you like to try this?" Had her voice sounded deliberately husky? It wasn't meant to, but was a sure measure of how heated she was becoming.

Holding his eyes with her own, she slowly slid the brandy snap between her lips, and sucked strongly twisting it sideways so that some of the spouting cream ran over her lips. She saw Brad's eyes widen and he took a quick drink of lemon. Her own erotic ploy had heated her own blood more than ever. She knew she couldn't hold on in this playful mode. Her wetness was increasing, her heart was hammering, she so wanted it.

Managing to keep a modicum of seriousness in her voice, she asked him, "As a plumber you must deal with blocked pipes a lot."

For a moment, Brad looked just a little uncertain, but he replied, "I'm a master plumber. Have my own business, with a few plumbers working for me. Now, I only attend to emergencies."

"Do you have to clear pipes?"

The way he looked at her, told her that he was beginning to get the message. Trying to stay cool, she parted her legs slightly so that the already unbuttoned lower part of her dress, fell open, and she thrilled to see his eyes glance down at her revealed knee and thigh. His face reddened.

"Do you have a special tool for that?"

He knew, didn't he? He knew where she was going, but all he said was, "Of course. A rod."

"Does it have to be long and hard?"

There was no doubt in his eyes as he looked mistily into hers, and licking his lips, he said, "Sometimes the pipe needs to be heated, and worked a little."

At his words, and almost in one motion, she grabbed his right hand, rose and stood over him, her legs parted as she placed his hand under her dress and directly onto her inner thigh. "Feel me, Brad. Feel." His touch was intoxicating as Brad slid his hand high and into the swamp of her pink wetness.

Brad was looking up at her and she could see the growing lust in his eyes as he said, "Jesus, you're ready."

That was an understatement. "Have been since I first saw you." she hissed. "Oh, plumb me, Brad. Plumb me. Finger me." Just as she had hoped, everything was now happening at a tremendous rate. Linda's excitement intensified, as Brad plunged a finger directly into her entry and up into her cunny. Immediately, it was two fingers groping up to their limit, while at the same moment she saw the mound in his cotton pants, and dropped her hand to smooth over it. That had Brad gasping and he buried his face between her almost bared breasts.

These actions were momentary as, without removing his fingers, Brad wrapped an arm around Linda's waist, and stood up lifting her feet from the ground. Linda almost choked with the sheer rapture of having the weight of her body lifted in part by two fingers in her cunny. As Brad began to walk, Linda felt the fingers that weren't inside her, fluttering along her channel and flickering at her clit. Madly, her mouth gaped, searching for his. His lips were warm and readily parted, and Linda eagerly lunged her tongue over his, delighted to have his tongue respond to tangle wetly with hers. Brad's steps took them towards the lounger, and, being so roused, Linda feared she might orgasm before they reached it.

Frantically, knowing haste was essential, Linda sucked at his tongue, while her hand squeezed between their clamped bodies, and her fingers found the zip on his pants. With some struggle, she managed to lower it, and was immediately aware of Brad leaning forward. She was being lowered onto the lounger.

Flat on her back, legs spread, lips tingling from the recent connection, she found his warm body over her, as he guided his solid cock, his super rod, to fill her, immense, as he thrust, to try to go even deeper. Linda orgasmed instantly, as she feared she might. But it was sheer ecstasy. Out of control, as she jerked, heaved, and bucked under Brad's powerful thrusts, she was vaguely aware of the squealing, grunting noises coming from her own throat.

Coming out of her euphoric state, Linda realised that Brad's near desperate heaves into her, accompanied by his loud groans, were sure signs that he too was pouring out his juices to mix with her own. Very soon, his head dropped onto her shoulder, and together they gasped out their mutual delight and surprise.

Linda had a moment to regain her breath, and ask herself whether it had been what she'd yearned for. If it wasn't, it was close, so damned close. Even in this afterglow, it was a delight to have a handsome man's naked belly close to hers, and, although it was starting to slip limply out of her cunny, to have had that cock so deep inside her had been both a joy and a relief. Yet the heat that it had flared inside her and up her channel had left embers that might be easily reignited. Only time would tell.

Brad now rolled his weight to one side of her, and Linda felt a tinge of regret, but was surprised when he suddenly gave a chuckle. "What?" she said, raising her head.

"Look," he said. nodding his head sideways.

Linda turned to where he was indicating, and burst out with delighted laughter. There, sitting side by side, panting through open jaws, eyes fixed on Linda and Brad, were the two dogs.

"Think they're jealous?" Linda asked.

Smiling, Brad observed, "More likely they think we're crazy."

Linda lay back, and asked, "We weren't, were we?"

Brad slid an arm under her neck and that was so comforting as he said, "No, I know it was a need in me. And I would guess it was a need in you, too."

Linda could only admit the truth of that, but was compelled to admit, "I have never, in my whole life, been so—so—demanding." And then, believing it would help her explanation, she added with surprising delicacy, "It's been two years since I was last-" She had never been prudish about using the word 'fucked', but for some reason, she added, "—intimate. I wouldn't want you to think you'd met a nymphomaniac."

Brad sat up, and before those brown eyes rested on her face, Linda was highly aware of his glance down her exposed body. She knew that their recent activity had popped all the buttons on her dress. It hadn't bothered her then and his look now caused a vague pull of excitement inside her, as he said, "That was the last thing on my mind."

"How long since you—?" Linda asked tentatively.

His eyes could not hold hers as he said, "With my wife, two months before she died." And his breath shuddered out of him.

Linda became even more circumspect as she whispered, "But that's longer than I'd missed. And there's been no one since?"

He gave her a poignant smile as he replied, "Not until a few minutes ago. Is it any wonder we collided so fiercely?"