Gardening at Mrs Chesters

Sunday morning and Jon was just nearing the clubhouse. He was on his bike, in his cycling gear. He had hoped to get in early and combine exercise with the trip. But he was late. He slunk in through the side gate and dismounted. He had Dot's watch with him, and it was safe in his shorts and cinched up to give him a good feeling, whilst he cycled. He imagined it as Mrs. Chester's thumb and forefinger clasping him, constantly.

He dismounted. There were two cars already there and one was Mrs. Chester's. He tried the back door, it was open and he entered. There was someone in the clubhouse kitchen, but he passed and went into the small side room to change. He closed the door. Whoever was in the kitchen was humming loudly, it sounded like Mrs Chester. He did need to return the watch, but was waiting for the right opportunity.

He eased off his top and opened his cycle bag. He pulled out his carefully rolled dark blue trousers and white shirt. He was sweaty, but the shower in the main changing rooms was broken, he just pulled the shirt on. As he was buttoning it up someone approached the door and heard him inside.

"Hello?" It was Dorothy.

"Oh hello Mrs Chester."

"Jonathan?"

"Yes I was just changing, hold on."

"Oh?"

"Yes I came in on my bike. I will only be a minute."

Dot's imagination went off... She wondered what she might have seen if she hadn't knocked.

"Oh ok, only I need a couple of things from in there. Don't be long."

He eased off his shorts, proper cyclists don't wear underwear, but that meant he needed to pack a set for when he changed, only as usual, he had forgotten to. He did however admire the watch clamped around his cock and balls. It was slackening a little so reaching down he cinched it up a hole. He pulled on his blue trousers - slim fit - bought a couple of years ago and reflected that he did need to get some more when he had earned some money, and when he remembered to of course. They were rather tight, but with no under pants he would have a little more 'breathing' space.

He pushed his cycle clothes into his bag and slung it to one side. Now he had to go to the gents for a quick play, just so he could create a little more space in there; of course, no other reason. Having noticed the watch again and encountered her already, albeit the other side of a door, there can be no guesses who he would thinking about, while he busied himself.

Dorothy heard him leave the side room and came back. She saw his bag immediately. It was open. She paused, but couldn't resist a quick look. She reached in quickly and found his shorts still warm and sweaty from cycling. She picked them out and sniffed them inquisitively. They smelt of hot sweaty boy. Looking inside, there was no staining. This was becoming a habit she thought and smiled to herself. She put them back.

The she focused on the work she had to do, to keep the clubhouse in order. She picked up the bucket and other cleaning materials from the cupboard in the corner of the room. She would start by giving the women's toilets a quick 'once over'.

Jon was busy in the closet, cock and balls now out of the tight flies, in his trousers. He was busy playing with thoughts of Mrs. Chester and now Mrs. Crawley too. He knew her probably less than Dorothy, but she seemed genuinely interested in him, for a first time. He seemed to be getting older and becoming a recognized as an individual, rather than being the 'son of' his mother'. These two women in particular were treating him like an adult, and he liked it.

With these thoughts in mind, it was'nt long of course, until he was stiff; very stiff. Sleeves rolled up to keep them clear, tie swaying too and fro, balls full and cock hard. He reached down and pulling is right hand back quickly, he peeled the tight skin back and revealed his shiny, swollen and dark red, mushroom head. Although he was trying to stay quiet he was gasping every now and then, from sheer excitement.

Suddenly there was the sound of a clanging bucket against the mens' toilet door.

"Hello? Hello, it's me. I just need to give the toilets a once over." It was Dorothy.

Jon managed to grunt an acknowledgement.

"And I don't have much time."

"Damn," he thought, "I need to get off, but I know I'll make a noise."

Jon knew he couldn't do it quietly and do it in less than two minutes; so cursing silently he realized he had to leave.

Reluctantly he simply turned, opened the cubicle door and came out. She was already wiping down the sink.

"Mrs. Chester, can I show you something?"

She turned, looked at him and then down at his pronounced stiffness, protruding cheekily from his small unzipped flies. Her mouth fell open, and she looked back at his uncertain face.

Then she acted decisively. She put down her cloth and reaching forward cupped his balls and gently squeezed them. Then firmly grasping his cock she slowly and methodically jerked him off into the urinal. She seemed to know instinctly the right hold, how firmly and the rythymn he liked the best, while she locked her eyes on his. She didn't speak: And, he guessed, she would also like to get her watch back when she had finished milking him...

Another crash of the bucket outside the cubicle brought him back from his dream. He knew that if he did what he had just contemplated, she would be horrified, offended and disgusted. He would never hear the end of it from his mother and Mrs. Chester would probably never speak to him again. So instead, he packed himself, with difficulty, back inside his trousers.

"God he didn't realize how tight they were," he thought.

"Sorry to hurry you Jonathan," she said through the door.

He flushed and zipped up.

She watched him exit, as she reached into her bucket with her rubber gloves. She glanced sideways at his trousers and was interested to note a horizontal crease line. It wasn't an ordinary crease more a bulge instead and it went almost to the edge of his trousers.

"Wow." She thought quickly.

"Oh can you help me in the kitchen please Jonathan? I need some items from the top cupboards there's a 'step up' in there. If you can also do a little drying for me first, I'll show you what I need."

She was referring to contents of the kitchen cupboards and not of his tight trousers, though she would have liked to. She glanced down again as he passed. Yes a definite bulge and a nice tight pair of buttocks divided by a tidy seam. It reminded her of the birch cuttings, which he had stacked near the Chester household back door.

"They definitely needed attention." She sniggered to herself, surprised again at how aroused she felt and reddened. It was all so new and so inappropriate, in his case.

He was drying the last plate when she came into the kitchen, a few minutes later.

"I just have to lay out some food for the lunch we have today... they are in these boxes and I need some more plates from the high level cupboards, just the job for a nice athletic young man."

He reddened slightly.

"Top cupboard, over the cooker." She directed, and Jon did as he was told. Jon lifted the 'step up', moved its light metal frame and steadying himself, climbed to the top. Dorothy looked over at him and again automatically her eyes dropped down his length and then across his length!

"God, he is still erect, nice. I wonder why he wasn't embarrassed, perhaps he didn't realize that he was so 'outstanding'," she thought.

"Can I step on the worktop?" He asked glancing down at Dorothy.

She was now looking under the sink for some more items. He hadn't noticed before how open her white blouse was. Three, rather than two buttons, were undone. It revealed just enough of a pair of modestly sized, milky, breasts, supported by a white bra. This wasn't helping he thought. He felt his already erect cock, slowly twitch back to complete rigidity, in his trousers, at the sight.

"Yes as long as you're careful," she replied and came out from under the sink. She glanced down a little once more. His genitals were now at her head height. Under the bright ceiling lights they were shown in strong relief. She had to cough and look away, now it was her turn to flush.

"Are you hungry? Do you like sausage roles Jonathan?" She asked innocently enough a few moments later.

"I have made some beetroot and pork versions of the traditional, with a new light form of short pastry. They're quite different. I got the recipe from a friend."

He looked down and saw her pull the top off a large square box and start to move her 'creations' out and on to a large dinner plate. Jon could not quite believe what he saw. They looked to him like some many partly erect penises. Maroon red beetroot and pork insides, partly covered with a light fleshy coloured skin of pastry. There was no other description.

"They are quite chunky," she said

"I like to get my teeth into a large one, rather than nibbling on several small ones, so I make them bigger than the recipe says." She said, quite appreciating what her cooking ha produced and how what she had just said simply made it worse for Jonathan. He climbed down from the worktop and watched her fingering the sausage roles. Each was about five inches long, full of the meat and vegetable mix, in a pastry wrapper. He could not take his eyes off her fingers as she picked up each role and placed it on the plate. God he felt hard once again. It was time to leave and hope things calmed down.

By now it was getting busy at the clubhouse. Jon settled himself in to a seat near the back of the hall for the AGM. He saw Mrs. Chester's bag two rows immediately in front. Minutes later she came in as more and more people entered the room. She smiled at Jon as she sat down. In a few minutes more all was quiet.

He watched the back of her head. The sun shone through the back window and illuminated her neck. Her hair was styled to a short black bob, curled back, and cut clear of her ears. Below the hairline was a downy, fuzz fringe, framed either side by her fine ears, from which he had just hung some low dangling loop earrings. Again he felt a swelling in his trousers. He was watching her bared forearms now she had changed to a short sleeved blouse. He was intrigued by her short dark arm hairs and as she reached forward he could see a small black bush underneath each armpit by turn.

"So hot," he thought to himself.

He wished he could have realized some of the tension in his balls earlier.

Throughout the meeting, try as he might, Jonathan could not look away from Mrs. Chester's hair, her head, neck, shoulders, and back. When she finally stood up to report on the ladies golfing circle, he was presented with a flowing pleated skirt and the tops of dark stockings. Her feet were shod in sensible brogues with a two inch narrow, but flared heel tip.

As she finished and sat down, to mild applauses from the members, he watched her tuck her feet back under her chair. He wondered idly what it might be like to feel her push one of those shoe heels onto him, may be even into him, whilst he perhaps lay prone on the floor. He felt himself tense with apprehension and excitement at the thought. He broke out into a sweat.

"Where are these feelings coming from?" He asked, a little confused.

Time passed and soon she was about to reach to her neighbour, behind her. He saw her strong right forearm flex its lean form, and pass back a pack of papers. She turned a little more and as she did so he was able to see right up the underside of the baggy and very short sleeves of her top. His eyes now alighted on a thick dark tangle of hair he had seen a couple of times before and had thought nothing of, but now they did something to him. He wondered how bushy she might be lower down. He felt another involuntary twitch from inside his trousers and realized he was erect yet again.

As soon as the meeting ended, Jonathan simply had to leave. He was now desperate for the toilet. He had things to complete, but he was then waylaid by Mrs. Crawley, who emerged from the kitchen.

"Hello again, nice to see you here, how are you?" she asked smiling he chubby cheeks folding in pleasure. She looked him up and down. He was impressed by the cut of his trousers.

"Been for any rides recently?"

She wasn't really that interested of course. Actually she was busy thinking how much she would like to ride him, or at least inspect his bike more closely. She was surprised why she hadn't noticed him in earlier years, but what she had now registered of Jonathan's fit young body so far, she definitely wanted to see more.

"Yes a few," he replied vaguely.

"Sorry but I really must visit the gents," he added and moved away quickly.

Jonathan was now standing facing the back wall of the WC. Sleeves rolled up again to keep them clear of any splashes, tie off, eyes closed. His right hand was pumping his penis, left hand cupping and squeezing his balls, snagged on their underside by the zip teeth. He was thinking hard about Dorothy. If she could see him now, would she be impressed or bored by someone his age? Then he remembered the sausage rolls and the way she had made them. He wondered if their resemblance to the male anatomy had been deliberate, or just accidental on her part.

He reached down and cinched Dorothy's wristwatch strap to the final and felt the swollen head surge bigger and with that the tight and fast moving foreskin eased back on its own with a series of compulsive twitches. It was a combination of the constriction of the leather strap, but mostly the fact that it was Mrs. Chester and had only recently been round her wrist suddenly made him feel very big indeed. It really turned him on.

The as he was about reach his climax he released the grip of his fingers and lent forward hard against the wall in front of him. He cried out as he felt his balls move on their own, his muscles contracting repeatedly against the leather and around his groin. Moments later rich, white, wet, gooey spunk, exploded from his tip. The first jet hit the wall. The second hit the wall. The third hit the wall. The fourth hit the wall as did the fifth, and sixth. With the slim, leather strap biting into his flesh at each jerk, it just made him harder, each time.

Then in a few seconds he felt the pressure ease and the next two globs went in to the toilet bowl. He stopped and leant back against the door. He gasped in relief. God that was good he said to himself, so good.

A sticky string of his emissions, about a foot long now swayed gently, from the tip of his cock, but he was too exhausted to do anything about it.

He wondered what would happen, could happen, when he was next working at the Chesters.

End of pt. 4.