Tending The Garden

It was the University Summer break and I was looking for any work I could get. I was picking up a bit of work here and the doing gardening for family friends. Mrs Parkinson, the mother of one of my friends, gave me a call asking for some help in her garden and so the next day I turned up. The Parkinson's lived in a palatial house with a big rambling garden. It was largely a well kept affair but there were a couple of sections that had become unmanageable and required a major clear out. Mrs Parkinson normally managed the garden herself but this tidy up required a bit of brute force. I had visited the house numerous times and was quite familiar with the family. I wasn't as familiar with Mr Parkinson as he was a banker who travelled frequently but I had shared many meals with the rest of the family, Mrs Parkinson, my friend Tom and his little sister Sally.

Mrs Parkinson was about 45 years old I would guess, but I am not great at estimating women's ages. She was not tall and had quite a buxom sort of figure. She had quite broad shoulders and matching hips but they were accentuated by a narrow waist. She never dressed to accentuate her bust but there was a hint of heaviness there. She had dark straight hair with some hints of grey, cut in what I think is called a bob. One of her most attractive features was her olive skin. Very smooth looking; almost like it had a sheen. As I noticed when we were working, her legs were also excellent for a woman of her age. She was not beautiful but had a pert face with a cute button nose that meant she could definitely be called attractive. Another feature I really like were her big doe like eyes. She had a bit over an over bite but I find that it can sometimes be quite cute on a woman. Sort of makes them look vulnerable.

Mrs Parkinson worked with me, instructing me about where to direct my energies. It wasn't so much gardening as demolition work, hacking out undergrowth, bushes and shrubs. I was enjoying working with her. She was quite talkative and interested in what I was studying etc. After about an hour I developed the thought that she appeared lonely. I knew that Mr Parkinson travelled a great deal and that both her children had left home. She had never worked as far as I know so she probably had a lot of time on her hands.

Without any conscious decision being made I found myself sneaking peaks of her legs or watching for breast movement from within her baggy blouse. She seemed totally oblivious to my subtle leering. I had never thought of her in a sexual way before and I was a little surprised at how arousing I was finding her.

At one stage I was topping a hedge and the step ladder I had wedged into the soft earth wobbled. I found myself in the hedge. I was unhurt aside from a superficial but bloody gash to my upper inner right thigh. Mrs Parkinson was horrified and shepherded me into the atrium which overlooked their garden. She sat me on a chair and scurried away to get a dressing. She returned and knelt in front of me. I spread my legs so that she could get access to the wound. As she bathed the gash, I had a clear view down the front of her loose fitting blouse. She was wearing some sort of sports bra that did a good job of moulding her ample bust and the resulting cleavage was impressive. I could also smell her musky aroma. The work we had been doing was quite physical and she exuded an odour of expensive perfume mixed with an earthy, womanly scent. These factors combined with the fact that she was working less than six inches from my crotch had a natural but embarrassing effect. To compound my shame, I was wearing light nylon shorts. My erection rose unfettered and prominent. By now she had finished dressing the wound and was applying the adhesive tape to secure the bandage.

She never looked up at me directly and appeared to be giving her full attention to the dressing but I did catch a glimpse of her eyes flickering onto the tent in my shorts. She had been talking away in a random sort of fashion but her conversation had dried up.

She licked her lips and continued to smooth the dressing with her hands. I heard her sigh and noted that her breathing had become faster and seemingly deeper. She was now practically massaging my thigh and her gaze was unabashedly at my tented shorts.

She looked up at me with a distant, dreamy sort of a look. "Did I really cause that", she asked timidly, nodding towards my groin. "Do you really find me attractive in that way?"

I simply nodded and gave her what I hoped was a warm and inviting smile. Her hands tightened on my thigh and she took a deep breath.

"Would you... mind... if I just..." She raised her hand and pressed down slowly on my tent pole with her palm. It obediently sprang back up as she raised her hand. She gasped and then pressed up and down a few times, seeming to marvel at the tensility of my cock. She had now moved closer so that her face was only a few inches from the action. She now used both hands to explore the shape and rigidity of my cock. She seemed fascinated. At one stage she ground her cheek into my crotch and inhaled deeply. I too must have had a fairly "fruity" odour, but when she exhaled with a satisfied moan, I knew that she found it a great deal less than offensive.

"I know we shouldn't but I simply must see him in the flesh as it were. Do you mind dear?" She reached for the waist band of my shorts and started tugging at them. I stood to ease the process which put my groin right in front of her face. As she rather impatiently dragged my shorts down my very erect cock was bent down by the waistband and when it finally was released it sprung up and hit her squarely under her chin. It made a "tock' sound. She reared back in surprise, throwing her hands up but only moments later she again leaned forward and began inspecting her new plaything. She had an expression of bemused wonderment, like a child with a new toy. It was as if she had never seen a penis before.

"Oh yesss." she husked. After a moments contemplation, her hands flew to it and started gently stroking my shaft.

"He's very handsome. Would you mind if I... er... found out what he tastes like?"

I certainly had no objections and looked on in delight as she gently and slowly licked its length and then engulfed the head of my member. She was not terribly good at sucking cock. She was a little careless with her teeth (might have been that overbite) and could not take much more than the head of my cock into her mouth but I was far from complaining. The biggest turn on was the fact that it was almost like she was worshipping my cock. She was almost possessive of it.

Meanwhile, although I am thoroughly enjoying the attention, I am a bit nervous about how exposed we are. Anyone walking around the house to the back garden or coming down the stairs from the house proper would get a real eyeful. She however didn't seem concerned at all.

Suddenly she stood and blurted, "I can't stand this anymore" I was taken a back a little as I certainly could stand for a bit more. "I simply must have him in me. You don't mind do you dear. I know that this is wrong but I haven't felt like this in years. I just have to have him." I would defy any red blooded male to turn her down at this stage. She quickly lowered her shorts to reveal a healthy bush of dark curly hair and a nice trim tummy. She straddled me on the chair and reached down to direct traffic. As she sank onto me she let out a loud hiss through clenched teeth. She wriggled a little to ensure maximum penetration and then began a slow and deliberate up and down motion which seemed to rub her most sensitive spot on my lower stomach. She would raise herself up slowly and then sort of release herself and let gravity do its job. Obviously all thoughts of safe sex had vanished. I didn't know if she didn't care or was so naïve that she simply didn't realise the danger. I hoped Mr Parkinson was not the sort to play around.

I had positioned my body so that I was as far up inside her as possible and was delierous with pleasure. She was gripping the back of the chair with both hands which meant she was leaning into me and her breasts were bobbling about just below my face. I ventured an experimental little foray up inside her blouse and hefted the not inconsiderable weight of one of her breasts. I gave it a gentle squeeze and was rewarded with a low moan. Soon both of my hands were busy. Without a word, she paused and quickly removed her top and bra. Unfettered they were magnificent. There was sag to be really judgemental but her gorgeous skin tone, a pair of very suckable nipples and their sheer mass made them irresistible. I used my mouth and hands to give them a real working over and in response she increased her pistoning pace.

The only frustration I was feeling was that I couldn't really thrust into her in this position. I had to rely on her doing all the work but it was still extremely enjoyable. She was really hammering away now, plunging up and down in an almost violent manner. She was huffing and puffing and I could tell something was coming to a head. She suddenly went rigid and ground her pubis against mine and let out a rush or air. Her face was screwed up and her eyes shut firmly. She arched back and I felt I had to hold her to stop her falling backwards. She then slumped against me with her head on my shoulder. We didn't move or say anything for a minute or so. Her breathing had steadied.

"That was... that was... magnificent. I didn't know it could be like that. You are such a clever boy. Now we must do something for you." She slipped off me and walked to the day bed in the corner of the room. She lay down on it and looked back at me with slitted eyes.

"I want you inside me" she challenged. Could any man really deny this woman her wish? I moved over and assumed the normal missionary position over her. She had one leg rather wantonly thrown over the side of the bed which raised her leg and exposed her quim in an easily targetable position. I manoeuvred into place between her thighs and she was ready to guide my keen participant to her safe haven. I had no need to guide him.

Bliss. Now I was setting the pace. I admit I got a bit over enthusiastic at first and almost came to the boil too soon. Mrs Parkinson was making some squeaking sounds that almost made me think I was being selfish and hurting her but there was enough positive feedback from her to make me think I was doing the right thing.

It wasn't long before I was struggling to keep the lid on. I was just holding on until she uttered the words that broke the dam. "Fill me up. I want it in me. Fill me up." Always being the polite and biddable sort, I did so with a dozen or so final sharp strokes. How could I refuse?

After my outpouring I was in a bit of a quandary. What happens next? I have just fucked one of my best friends' mother. How does our relationship progress from here or is there no relationship? Will she write this off and deny anything ever happened, which is probably a sensible course? Will she feel resentful? God knows I felt guilt even though it was an extremely intense sexual experience that I would have repeated in a flash.

We both lay together with me draped over, on and in her. I was at a loss as to what to do next. She broke the silence... "You know John, there really is a huge amount of work in my garden. There is so much catching up to do. Would you be available to come around each week for the remainder of the holidays to tend to my garden?" She had an impish look on her face and those big, moist eyes just begged me to say yes. She added, "I think say $50 for two hours work. We could really make some progress in 2 hours."

And so for the reminder of the summer break I turned up each week to tend to Mrs Parkinson's garden. I never went outside once. I suppose by definition I had prostituted myself in that I was being paid for sex but I would have very gladly done it for nothing. It was an extraordinary episode in my emotional and sexual life. Both of us were in a period of flux and we ended up exploring some sexual practices that could be considered extreme by some. Although we are no longer active sexual partners, on the odd time that our social paths cross, I can still feel a sexual electricity crackle between us. I wonder if the circuit can be completed again.

I hope you get to read this Jane. I do want to again tend your garden.