Dear Diary,
It has been a long while since I have written you letters, but there really has not been anything exciting enough to report since my husband, Todd, expanded my understanding of the blossoming of my sensuality. My heightened sexuality continued to evolve with him over the past couple of years. I reported the resolution of loss and rekindling of the romance in our long marriage in the Lady Libertine chapters, which filled you up. But, now, I have obtained a new volume of blank pages, because something very different happened yesterday.
Todd suddenly had to go on a business trip, so I was left to my own resources without any forewarning. It was hot, and I needed to fill up the green recycle bin for today's pick up. After blowing Todd a kiss as he drove off, my eyes went to the wild blackberry bush that was taking over the large iris at the edge of the garden close to the driveway. Yet, the sun was already beating down even though it was only mid morning. Wearing jeans and Todd's denim shirt to protect my arms and legs would cause overheating before the task was barely begun.
Very short black denim cutoffs and a matching low cut lacey tank top over my bare skin were perfect for the task. My breasts are still full even though I am now sixty-three, so my cleavage was quite pronounced behind the sheer lace that pressed against my still-perky nipples. I slipped my bare feet into upright pink calf-high pick goulashes and put on a broad rim hat. Todd would have warned me that I was inviting trouble from sunburn, but he was not here and would be away for the week.
I went into the small storage barn next to the garden to get my gloves and shears. Now, I was ready to begin attacking the long thorny brambles. I carefully pulled on a strand, cut it into pieces, and then tossed the twigs carefully into the bin. It was not long before I felt my body heating up, but my skin could breath fine due to the minimal clothing. Working slowly and cautiously, I made sure not one thorn from the brambles touched my skin. I managed to cut them away from the edges of the tall iris; there was still an abundance of prickly foliage in the center of the bush.
Separating the sharp sword-like leaves, I stretched as far as I could into the bush. Yet, before I could make my first cut, I was startled by a male voice.
"Hola, Señora."
I lost my balance and, as if in slow motion, began falling into the irises and brambles. First, I felt the sharp leaves of the iris protest my invasion. Then the brambles slashed at my flesh as I fell through the tangled netting of tiny furry spikes. "God damn mother fucker!" I screamed out first in pain and then simply, "Fuck," out of fear over my sudden imprisonment.
Suddenly, an angelic tanned face with gentle buck-like large brown eyes peered through the tangled plants. "Who are you?" I whimpered.
"Para el jardÃn. Yo estoy el sénior para el jardÃn."
Good thing I know some basic Spanish. Damn, I had forgotten all about him. Todd told me he had met a nice middle-aged Hispanic man and hired him to come help me do the yard work. I must not have listened carefully. I had no idea he was coming today.
"Please. I help. Okay." he half commanded in broken English.
I said nothing out of pain, shock, and total embarrassment. But, when he reached into the bush and offered me his hand, I shook my head and replied, "Mucho problema. Big problem. I am stuck."
"No problema," he replied.
Then he gestured that he was not reaching for my hand but for my shears. So, I tossed them out of the bush having no alternative. My skin was beginning to burn, and my muscles were already aching due to remaining perfectly still as if sitting in a hammock. Any movement would only cause additional gashes. Not only that, the thin strip of denim was pressing against my crotch and making my pussy raw.
I suddenly realized that the "gardener" was singing and it sounded like a gentle serenade.
My muscles began to relax even though I was holding them taunt. I heard the sound of clipping above me. I watched the pulling away the tangle of green swords and the brambles that entrapped me. Again, he reached in with his hand, but this time I had been freed.
Even though my hands were leather gloved, the feel of his palm created an unexpected surge of pulsations throughout my body. Then I looked into those eyes that gazed so comforting into mine.
"Pobrecita," he exclaimed.
"Poor little thing," I translated in my mind.
I became aware of a sudden shift of sensations. My fearfulness was relaxing as if being engulfed with a sense of warmth. I realized that even though I could feel the sting of all the cuts and abrasions, the burning was becoming calm and being replaced by feelings I had never before experienced. I felt a strange building of excitement between my legs that was replacing the chafed feeling caused from my shorts.