Wasn't bank holiday a scorcher. John, my husband, and I just felt like laying around but the garden needed some attention and so we set to it. I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts as I knelt to weed the front garden. John was trimming the hedge in the back.
About eleven o'clock John came round the corner of the house to talk to me. The first I knew was his shout of "Hold it!"
I was on all fours as I reached out for a particular weed. I froze thinking something was wrong. I heard his quiet steps on the lawn behind me and then - suddenly - he yanked my shorts down and kissed my bottom.
"John!", I shouted and, grabbing at my shorts which were round my knees, I rolled over onto my back to pull them up. MISTAKE! This of course presented my bush to John and he immediately buried his face in it preventing me pulling my shorts up.
"John," I cried again, "anyone might come along." We were, after all, as I said, in the front garden. He couldn't speak of course. Despite the pressure from my thighs he didn't show any sign of moving. I saw his eyebrows rise and saw his eyes. I'm sure that - despite being full of quim - his mouth was grinning.
And then he hit my sweet spot. His nibbling had caused the usual involuntary action from my pussy lips - after all, they didn't know we were in the middle of the front lawn - and they had parted to allow him access to my clit and he had used it. Suddenly we could have been in the middle of Regents Park; I didn't care anymore.
I don't think it took long for me to climax and I lay there panting afterwards. I still had my eyes closed when I heard John's voice, from a distance, say "Do you think you ought to sunbathe in the front garden with no clothes on?"