Garden Luncheon

"Hey, hi, didn't mean to startle you," I say, as I slowly walked towards her. "Remember last time I saw you in town you said to pop by sometime? I tried the front door, but no one answered." She was wearing that green dress with the embroidered border she picked up at the thrift store we met at and had mentioned it would make a good gardening dress, and it did. "If now is a bad time, I can come back," I stammered, uncertain, but her quick smile and body language told me that would not be necessary.

"I'm almost done," she reassured me, "can you hand me that rake?" I walked over to get the rake and handed it to her. She had on those plastic gardening clogs, bright yellow with dirt stains all over them, obviously well used. Her hair was up in a messy bun, the kind where the slightest breeze would cause it to fall apart, but miraculously, it does not. The green dress had smudges here and there too, and it was obvious she was not wearing a bra. She raked at a small patch of exposed dirt, stopped, and regarded me, a blooming smile on her face. "I'm really glad you stopped by, I've been thinking about you," My heart dropped at those words, as I had been thinking about her too. She averted her eyes coyly, and I could feel myself blush as I searched for the next thing to talk about.

"You have a lovely garden," I finally managed to get out, "you seem to be very fruitful." As soon as I said it, I groaned inwardly, and she chuckled.

"I probably am, but I haven't had a chance to find out." She smiled that smile at me again. "Am I making you nervous?" I did my best to recover, but something about her easy manner, and for lack of a better term, Earthy appearance, completely disarmed me.

"I'm perfectly capable of doing that to myself." I continued about her garden, "Your garden seems to be very fruitful, what do you use on it?" We went back and forth like that for a while. She pulled some weeds here and made some adjustments with the rake or a spade there, and at one point I felt like a surgical nurse, helping her with tools and small tasks. Soon, my hands were as dirty as hers, black soil lining my fingernails, and splotches running up my wrist.

The warm sun made the temperature ideal, and caused the freckles on her full, high cheeks to stand out a little more. She had warm, brown eyes, like the fertile spring soil where a soul could find nourishment and become lost. Her eyebrows arched, in a permanent state of curiosity, and I saw her look at me, and then glance away, her mouth forming that smile again. The tip of her nose turned up slightly, further accentuating her air of curiosity and alertness, and tying together the overall appeal of her face. Her mouth was full, surrounded by a tapering chin, with a slightly wider upper lip atop a plump and almost pouty lower, lending an appearance of openness and inviting kisses.

She started cleaning up and asked me to gather the smaller tools to place in a caddy, while she stored the larger in a cabinet built against the side of the garage. "I was going to open a bottle of red, is pinot Ok with you?" I enthusiastically agreed and did a quick scan to make sure I had accounted for all the tools. I saw a trowel over by where she was standing and started towards it. She noticed it too, and reached for it, then casually handed it to me, her head turning and causing her blond tipped brown hair to momentarily cover her eyes. I did not entirely grasp the trowel handle, merely caught of little of the blade, and fumbled my grip. It seemed to hang in the air as I tried to grab it with my other hand, and she also tried to catch it, and somehow, between our efforts, we managed to come face to face, my hand over hers on the trowel.

I would like to say I do not know what came over me, but it should be obvious by now. I leaned in slightly, eyes open, watching her reaction, and kissed her full on the mouth. My lips enveloped her lower lip, and my tongue darted out to taste it, as I breathed in her scent, and then quickly moved to her upper lip as well. Her eyes had closed at once, and offering no resistance, my hand rose to move her hair from her face, as she dropped the trowel, falling with a thud at our feet.

Her free hand found my waist, as my other hand reached behind her, and we mutually pulled each other closer. I continued to smooth and stroke her hair, and her other hand found my face, and guided my mouth to the most pleasing angle, as her tongue joined the fray. We licked, and probed, and fenced with our tongues, exploring each other's mouths, using our lips to control and grasp the others as I continued to inhale the heady scent of her, marveling at my sudden good fortune. We reached a slow spot, with a soulful moment of stillness, and I pulled back slightly, whispering, "Are you OK?" She smiled dreamily, murmuring in assent, and leaned back in, with a particularly enthusiastic response.

After a particularly enjoyable round of tongue dancing, my mouth grew restless and looked to roam. Trailing over her cheek, I tipped her head slightly and found the spot at the base of her jaw, just below her ear. She shivered as my tongue flicked in her ear, and her earlobe stretched as I tugged on it with my lips, and sucked it a little, before heading south. Down her neck I sucked and licked and nibbled to her shoulder. Fortunately, her green dress had a forgiving neckline, and I was able to pull the fabric aside, giving me access, which I enjoyed most thoroughly.

Her exertions in the garden had caused perspiration to make her damp, dew-like, and her natural odor wafted up as I aggressively kissed her shoulders, causing my desire to swell. I became caught up in the experience of her such that I grew dizzy and lightheaded, and leaned on her slightly for support, which she accepted without fail, only commenting "Are YOU OK?" I murmured in the affirmative, regained my center, and thoughtlessly allowed my hand to wander to her left breast, almost exposed under the light fabric, nipple hard at my touch.

She stiffened slightly at that, a faint gasp coming from her lips, and then relaxed, and shifted her arm to give me better access. I looked down and realized my fingers were smudging her dress wherever they went from the soil left on them from the work, and reluctantly tried to wipe them on my pants as she looked down and noticed the same. We both laughed and she asked: "Such the dirty boy, whatever shall I do with you?

"Whatever you like" was all I could think of to say.

"Are you going to pick up that trowel, or will I have to?"

"I'll get it," and I dropped to one knee.

Again, I would like to say I do not know what came over me, but kneeling in front of her, the green, lightweight gardening dress clinging slightly to her form, gave me an urge and I plowed ahead. Leaving the trowel where it was, I started to lift the hem that hung just below her knees. She looked down, startled, and then smiled as I looked back up at her, the hem already pushed up well past her knees. She must have seen uncertainty in my expression, because she slightly bent her knees, and said, "Go on, finish what you started, just no dirty fingers."

Just like her lack of a bra, she had no panties. My hand moved around to cup her shapely ass, set beneath a slim waist, and I nestled my face into her well-trimmed bush and deeply inhaled her most intoxicating scent. She gathered up the lower part of her dress with one hand and used my head to steady herself with the other, her fingers purchasing a hold in my hair, as I began to part her lips with my tongue. I would like to say I am skilled enough with my tongue to do that effectively, but I did need an assist with my hand to help pull them back, so my tongue could find its way into the inner folds, tasting the burgeoning nectar within.

Mindful of her standing, I wasted little time in finding her pleasure bud and teasing and coaxing it out of its sheath. It sprouted willingly, and soon my lips enveloped it, lightly sucking, and exposing it fully to my tongue. Alternating between jabs and thrusts, and circles and sustained pressure, I soon felt her grip on my head tighten, pulling my face tighter, and she let out an utterly adorable whimper, as her thighs quivered, and then she sighed.

I continued.

To make a long session of cunnilingus better paced, I had to learn to be a cunning linguist. My tongue becomes a pen, and her bud the paper, and I write on it. The alphabet is good start, tracing A, then B, C, D, exaggerating every stroke; oral calligraphy meant to evoke a singular response. For her, only the finest poem would do. I tried to remember Neruda's Love Sonnet 11, and with my tongue limbered up and freshly inked, I started.

'I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Each letter penned with meticulous care and flourish.'

'Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.' I glanced up at her face, eyes closed, mouth in a half-smile, and I wondered if she could read what I was writing.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day. I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. Again, she pushed on my head, her legs starting to tremble, and I heard her again whimper, and moan, as her breath catches in her throat, as if she is choking back a scream. I paused a moment, and reached for her other hand, fumbling until I found it, and our fingers instantly interlocked, the hem of her dress slipping down to my forehead, and we steadied her as gentle spasms rocked her body.

She returned to stillness, and her one hand again gently played with my hair. We used our combined fingers to pull the hem out of my face, before it became a barrier between quill and parchment, and fingers still locked, I continued.

'I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.' At "almond" I mimicked eating her bud as I would a nut, teeth gently nibbling and trying to swallow it. The sudden change caused her to gasp, and I looked up to see her face, smiling at me with that sunrise smile and my heart leapt, as I returned to my writing with renewed vigor.

'I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, as her breathing starts to quicken again.'

'the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, as my mouth begins to cramp, and my tongue starts to lose a little feeling.'

'and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,'

Her aroma was in full flower now, and I was swimming in her pheromones, as I heard her moans...

'hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.'

I didn't even make it to the last word, as she gripped my head again and tightened her grip on my hand, and I felt her knees almost buckle as she let out a series of deep moans, her body shaking, pushing my face away from her. I managed to find her bud again and get a few hasty final letters in as she started to laugh, and straighten, releasing my hand. She guided my face up, urging me to stand and I suddenly remembered I had moveable legs, while her dress dropped down again above her knees.

She embraced me after I stood, and her mouth nuzzled in by my ear. She whispered: "Let's get that wine, and perhaps we can get cleaned up so we can get dirty again." She jumped when my response was to give her ass a playful squeeze, and we walked hand in hand towards her house, while I pondered how large her shower was and thinking smaller is better.

Meanwhile, the trowel lay where it had fallen, in mute witness to a pleasurable afternoon.