The Rose Garden

It was a Wednesday in July, and we were on vacation. Traveling the countryside, we visited places of interest, had delicious meals, and made love in a new hotel every night. This particular day, we stopped by a manorhouse known for its art collection and park with a famous rose garden. We arrived right after lunch, and judging by the parking lot, there were few other visitors. The manorhouse was a lovely 18th century building, and the art collection typical of the era. In one room, there was an interesting collection of erotic art, which we paid special attention. Most of the actions and positions were well-known and -tried, but the execution of the paintings and statuettes was still inspiring.

Slightly aroused, we went outside to see the park. Walking along the well-kept paths, we passed trees, flowerbeds and the occasional pond. Signs pointed towards the rose garden, and soon we entered the sweet-smelling haven. Admiring the many varieties of roses, we came to a part of the garden where a circle of rose-covered trellises surrounded a well. There was a wooden grate covering the well, and in the seclusion of this spot we stopped to kiss. Our kissing turned more passionate, and our eager hands found their way under our clothes.

"Wait," you said, and turned to rummage through your handbag. You produced four silk scarves which you handed to me.

"So, how do you want me?" you asked teasingly.

"Hmm... You can start with stripping," I said.

You obliged, slipping out of your light summer dress, then slowly removing your bra and panties, finally standing there in all your naked glory. I savoured your breasts, hips, mound with its little tuft, and long, shapely legs.

"Lie down on that grate," I said, indicating the well cover. You did as I told you, and I adjusted your position. Using two of the silk scarves, I tied your hands to the grate. Then I tied your feet together, the soles against each other so your legs parted and your pussy open for the world to see. The last scarf was used as a blindfold, leaving you in my control. You could hear me circling the well, feeling like a sacrifice on an altar devoted to a sex god.

You heard some rustling, and then my steps closing in. The breeze stirred the hairs on your mound, and you shivered in anticipation. Then you felt my tongue on your nipples, first one, then the other. They began to rise. You felt my lips close on your left nipple. I sucked it gently, then caught it lightly between my teeth and let the tip of my tongue flick over it. You gasped as the sensations spread. Something soft started to brush your right nipple, and you moaned with pleasure.

Circling your aerola with the soft object, I kissed your mouth. You responded, and my tongue played with yours while your nipple was teased. I passed the object under your nose, and you could feel the fragrant smell of a rose. Then I shifted my mouth to your right nipple, sucking it, catching it and teasing it with my tongue. You felt the petals of the rose circle your other breast, then slowly travel down your naked skin towards your pussy.

The rose brushed against your tuft, then the sides of your delta, moving to and fro. Slowly, each stroke got closer and closer to your clit. You squirmed, moaning "Please, please" under your breath. Then the petals flicked over your clit, and you gasped. As I was brushing it lightly, maddeningly, you tried to move, but the restraints made it impossible. I let go of your nipple, and you heard me take a couple steps so I was between legs. Then, at the same time, you felt not just one, but two roses brushing your nipples while my tongue teased your pearl. This time, your moan was louder, and you arched your back as my tongue made your clit send jolts of pleasure through your body.

"Do you want to come, love?" I asked, pausing my licking momentarily. Your juices covered my tongue, letting me savour the subtle tones I had loved from the very first time I tasted you.

"Yes! Yes!" you gasped.

"Not yet, love," I said in a teasing tone, resuming my licking while the roses brushed your nipples and breasts.

You squirmed and whimpered, and I decided it was time to up the game. You felt two fingers slide inside your wet pussy, stroking you slowly in the right spot. My thumb circled and rubbed your clit, and I kissed you again, letting you taste your own juices. Your breath got shorter as you neared the climax. A third finger entered you, twisting and wiggling.

"Please!" you begged. "I want to come! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

My fingers slid out, and you heard the faint sound of my zipper. The next thing you felt was the tip of my cock being flicked over your clit, then how it was rammed home to the hilt. I grasped your hands while I made thrust after powerful thrust in your flowing cleft. We were both nearing our climax when you heard me cursing under my strained breath.

"What... is... it?" you asked while I moved inside you.

"Busload... of... tourists... coming... our... way," I replied.

"Can't... stop... now. So... close!" you gasped.

I redoubled my efforts, angling myself so my cock would hit your sweet spot with every thrust. I saw the group of tourists getting closer. In a couple of minutes, they would see us. When I felt your pussy begin to squeeze my engorged cock, I knew we could make it. Releasing your left hand, I moved my hand to your mound and rubbed your clit. You bucked as the orgasm took you, then I came, filling you with spurt after spurt. Our moans blended and echoed through the grate down the well.

A glance told me that the tourists would see us any minute now. My glistening cock slipped out of you, and I quickly shoved the still-erect member down my boxers and pulling up my pants. I tugged at the knots, releasing you from the scarves. You pulled off the blindfold, blinking at the sunlight as I handed you your dress. Collecting panties, bra and scarves and ramming them down your bag, we tried to compose ourselves as we left the rose garden. Flushed and still horny in the afterglow of our love-making, we pushed past the tourists, heading for the exit. We both knew we would continue when back at our hotel. Meanwhile, by the well in the rose garden, two roses lay on the ground, the only trace of the act of passion mere minutes ago...