tagNonHumanThe Garden of Hidden Desires

The Garden of Hidden Desires


I have always been inspired romantically by the English gardens made famous by both their beauty and tranquility. Nobility, it seemed, always had at least two or three of them, centered with beautiful statuettes and water fountains. There is no better place to both relax and reflect than among nature in its finest, trimmed and manipulated by man’s imagination. So it has always been my dream to have a little piece of romantic whimsies in my backyard … someday, somehow.

Well I finally had my chance when at the age of 37, my life and career took a sudden change for the better. After many years of tolling in the creative of young minds and player baby-sitter to a bunch of spoiled rotten brats, I was able to pursue a career in that which I loved most … horses. It all began so suddenly that I almost forget how I got here and right now, that doesn’t really matter as I sit down to pen my thoughts on when the garden first began to take a more interesting part of my life.

When I first was able to afford a landscaper to come and create the beginnings of my countryside English garden, I didn’t really have an ultimate plan in mind. I just knew that I wanted a secret garden of my own; a place where I would be able to withdraw from my everyday and reflect in nature’s comfort and beauty. I’ll never forget the day it started. There were workers everywhere! I was on a pretty barren spot of land … two acres of flat grassland with a line of trees at the back and the pitiful attempts I had made around the house to bring a little beauty in.

There were truckloads of dirt being brought in and digging going on, it seemed, forever. A lazy stream that fed from a waterfall with colorful fish and water plants was going through one side close beside a weathered-looking planting shed. Odds and ends that I had collected from various places that had a whimsical yet classic look to them were added throughout. As the garden began to slowly take shape and all kinds of shrubbery and foliage was brought in, I knew that there were a few things I was missing to really make this a true countryside English garden. Statues … I needed statues. No English garden was complete without them.

So a trip to the masonry was next on my agenda when I could find a spare weekend to shop. But one beautiful spring Saturday afternoon, I found the time and the will to get it down. I don’t really remember details like what I was wearing or how I was wearing my hair but I do remember being very casual and comfortable for the light warm day and possessing a somewhat inane sense of excitement in finding just the right pieces. There were a few spots I had in mind to look but none really appealed to me. They just weren’t what I was looking for although not really knowing what it was didn’t help either. I just knew that when I found them, I would know!

Just when I thought that I wouldn’t find anything that weekend and was on the verge of frustrated tears, a sign off the main road caught my attention: Romantic Statuettes, Just for You. I almost missed the turn as I remember feeling like this was my last hope and turned off onto a country road that led down the road about seven or eight miles. I pulled up to a place that almost looked like it had been thrown up at the last moment; as if it had been an after-thought but there were hundreds of statues setting about and all of a beautiful, almost glassy, marble. I mingled among them for hours … the little old lady beneath the tent seemingly lost in the book she was reading as I browsed. There were a few pieces I was interested in … a little cherub with his bow and arrow cocked, a beautiful Italian-inspired vase, a lovely half-nude girl in her late teens pulling long hair back into a thin ribbon and then, just as I thought I had found all that I might want, I saw him.

He was magnificent and I was drawn both to the elegant beauty and the raw sexuality that this carved piece of stone possessed. He was crouched down, one knee more forward than the other which covered his sex, seemingly rippled muscles ran down his lithe bared form, locks of wavy hair falling in a loose tangle over his forehead, eyes that seemed to blaze at me from their stony depths as I gazed at him in awe. I remember shaking my head some to clear the daze that the statue had drawn me into and knew immediately that this was the centerpiece to my secret garden … the piece that would draw me into the heart of my hidden paradise where I could unwind and relax.

The hardest part was waiting for him and the others of course, to be delivered. The garden was almost complete and I was awe-struck by its beauty. It looked as if it had been there for years and I was thankful that I had been a part of creating something beautiful from the extra money I was making. Then the day came where they were delivered. I remember not being able to take my eyes off him as they set him into place in the heart of my new special place. When they finally left, I stood on my back deck and looked out over my garden. It was so beautiful and so welcoming; I just knew that it would be the pride of my home. Its entrance was guarded by an arbor adorned by blooming wisteria and a little iron gate that beckoned me within. Broken shells crushed into small fragments lined the pathway that wound through its beauty. It was as if this garden has advertised only for the most lovely and softest singing birds to come make their permanent home in its foliage. Each step further into the garden took me to a place where I had never been before. I was transported from one state of being to another with each step further into its depths that I went.

I remember noticing all the different things that adorned my special place … the weathered potting shed, the wheelbarrow turned on its side with dirt spilling out where hostas had found their home, the little cherub that perched beneath a weeping willow tree that seemed to have been there for years, the whispering stream of water that bubbled alongside the path, soothing my soul with each step. But even stronger still, was a magnetized pull towards the center of the garden where he crouched, waiting. I found him embedded in a sea of moss and surrounded by beautiful cherry trees that were in full blossom. A softly spraying fountain was to the right with a small sitting area beneath a large red maple tree. A beautifully wrought bench built for two and deep enough to lay upon in a stretch of tired limbs to soak in the beauty of this place welcomed me deeper.

As I stepped closer to the statue, it was as if the trees bent closer, shielding us within this harbored room of beauty. I couldn’t help but stare at him. It was as if his eyes were boring right into mine and if I looked hard enough, I could see the muscles in his well-toned back flex beneath the rays of sun that filtered through the thick trees. I felt a flutter in my belly and the velveteen softness of my tongue was slipping over my lower lip. He was beautiful. I found myself gazing lower still down his body, even moving to the right a bit to see if I could see anything past his bent leg. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t seen it before but there they were in plain view … twin ball sacs hanging beneath the lower portion of an erect cock. I couldn’t see the tip of it as it was resting against his upper thigh that lay against his belly, but I could definitely make out the large vein that ran up the underside length of the portion that I could see.

I blinked and pulled back a bit, shocked at the twinge I felt shooting down my belly and pooling between my thighs. I even felt a reflexive throb in my clit and knew instantly that it was hardening between nether lips as my hands raised to my flushed cheeks. I broke my gaze from this rock man and turned to move over to the bench, taking deep breaths to calm the sudden wild beating of my heart. This was ridiculous! I was getting worked up over a stone statue. Shakily I sunk down onto the bench and closed my eyes, swallowing past the lump I felt in my throat as I tried to calm the ridiculous thoughts running through my head. But when I opened my eyes and looked back at him, it was as if he was staring right through me and could read my thoughts and innermost desires. I felt myself blush even as my gaze dropped to his strong thighs once again.

Mink brown brows furrowed as I tilted my head a bit to the left. Was it my imagination or did it seem like maybe I could see more now than I could before. Nervously licking my lips even as I gazed around, feeling like someone was watching me; I noticed that the garden was almost like a protective dome around the statue and me. Only the beckoning invite of the soft moss and the perpetual stare of his stony gaze into mine brought me to my feet for a closer look once again. I found myself close to him, this time a tender hand gingerly reaching out to touch the stone of his leg, surprised to find it smooth and even warm to my touch. I glanced back at the statues eyes, wondering if my lack of sex life and over-active imagination was getting the best of me even as I knelt down to his left side, tearing my gaze from his to see if I had truly seen what I thought I had.

Sure enough, this time I could make out more of his cock and blushed in surprise to find it fully erect and darker in color than the rest of him. Swallowing nervously, I guessed him to be about nine inches in length, maybe three inches wide, give or take an inch either way. I could feel my nipples hardening beneath the stretch of my tank top as I gaze upon that hard stone that seemed to beckon me closer. I remember that my mind kept screaming that this was stupid and that I was imagining things but my body and fingers couldn’t help but react and I found slender digits of my right hand reaching out to feel the lower portion of that steel pole just above the stone balls. A soft gasp escaped my lips as the stone felt almost hot to my touch and it seemed as though his legs had move a bit to give me even better access.

As my fingers reflexively circled the base of his shaft, I remember glancing up to his face once more and I could have sworn I had seen a tell-tale look in his eye that this was his special gift to me from the garden as my body found its way between his thighs. I can’t separate reality from fantasy at this point in my memory because it all became one. I was between his thighs and he was leaned back on his elbows in the soft expanse of the moss when I took that warm rod of stone in my mouth. It was as if he had been chiseled to fit every hole in my body, beginning with the one that I found myself laving upon him eagerly. Closing my eyes, I could taste the salty sweetness of his precum oozing out onto my tongue as I suckled him deeper into my willingly open throat. This was my secret place and my secret lover and I just know that I willed him to life that day.

I groaned upon his hot fevered flesh, or stone … I know not which. I could feel the strong pull of his fingers in my hair as my mouth worked up and down on his rock-hard cock and I worshiped it with my mouth and tongue and lips. I couldn’t get enough of his length and tried to swallow it down my throat completely. And then I found myself pulled from his swollen member and I remember standing upright and removing what little clothing I did have. My panties were soaked with my own juices and I could feel my cunt contract with the need that was marked in the tremble of my body even as the garden seemed to close around us even more. I could feel his stony gaze beckoning me closer, the slow throb of his cock commanding me to take him inside of me until I came screaming to completion.

I have never felt anything so hard and so hot in my weeping flesh. I could feel the stone pulse and shift within me. The swollen mushroom head so delicately chiseled pushed up into my cervix as my fingers slid over his heavy muscled chest and with my own body, brought forth upward thrusts from the statue into my aching hole again and again. I know I was screaming with the pure pleasure from getting fucked by my own personal garden statue but no one could hear me but the enveloping trees and whispering water and birds that sang in a soft melody to our passionate thrusts upon the bed of moss. I could feel him pumping into me harder and with more desperate force, as if he could put all of the hard work that had created him into the completion of my orgasm. I shuddered over him hard and clawed at hard rock, my cunt walls spasming around that steel rod that thundered relentlessly into my aching pussy again and again. I was lost in an aura of pleasure and pain as he tightened within me and exploded in a fragment of sunshine and color.

I found myself naked on the bench, drowsy as I slowly sat up and shook off the lethargic feeling that surrounded me. Blinking past the rays of sun that filtered in through the trees above, I suddenly remembered the statue and my startled gaze flew over to him. He was exactly as I had purchased him … crouched in the bed of moss, his stony gaze straight ahead. Feeling my stomach flutter and my heart beat wildly, I looked down between my thighs, dried cum and bits of rock dust on the inner parts of trembling flesh. Glancing upwards once more to look over at my prized statue, I wasn’t sure but thought I could see him grin.

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