Tony really liked his job at the local garden center. First, he was of Italian descent, and with that background, he was friendly, personable, and seemed always willing to help. Secondly, he was a typical twenty-year-old horny male, with a genuine love for the female body. Somewhat of a voyeur, Tony really looked forward to the warm weather months which brought out plenty of women, most wearing smaller and smaller articles of clothing. Thin, revealing tops, short shorts, and short skirts worn by some of the most beautiful women on the planet kept Tony happy and always on the prowl.
One day he was taking a break on his forklift, trying to decide if he preferred to look at women's asses in shorts, or at their tits when they bent down. As if by magic, his question was answered. Mrs. Calliende walked by pushing a cart full of bagged mulch, her unencumbered 38-D titties, defying gravity and straining against the fabric of her spaghetti-strap white top. Her denim miniskirt, which showed off most of her tanned thighs, cupped the bottoms of her asscheeks.
When she got to her Navigator and opened the hatch door, a bag of mulch almost fell off the cart. Tony was there instantly, catching the bag and putting it in her car, along with the others. While he was unloading the cart, Mrs. Calliende had bent down to get something off the bottom shelf of the cart. When Tony turned around, there they were, on full display. "Damn, what a rack!" thought Tony, as he failed to avert his gaze in time.
Teresa Calliende, mildly pleased that a young stud like Tony showed an interest in her chest, held her pose for a moment to give him a better memory. Then she looked into his eyes and saw a reflection of lust like she had not seen for a while. She returned his appraising look and was pleased with what she saw. Olive skin, dark hair, muscular build, not too tall-Tony just might be the answer to her problem.
"Thanks, Tony. I don't know what I would have done without you," she said, moving close and touching his arm lightly.
"Aw, it's nothing Mrs. Calliende. Just trying to help a pretty lady out," he replied, obviously pleased with the smile she was bestowing on him.
"Tony, do you ever do any work away from the store? In peoples' yards?" she asked.
"Sure. The boss doesn't advertise it, but he sends me and some of the other guys to help his friends occasionally," he said, feeling the tension mount as Mrs. Calliende continued to hold his arm, making sure her thinly covered breast contacted his arm.
"Look, my husband and I have a garden project that we need some help with. When do you have a day off?" she asked, moving closer so that he could inhale the scent of her perfume as she let her breasts make contact with his upper arm.
Tony, feeling his dick starting to harden, thought quickly. "How does Monday morning sound?"
"That will be great!" she said, handing Tony a card with her cell number and address on it. "Will ten o'clock be OK?"
"I'll be there. Do I need to bring any tools?" he asked.
Teresa smiled tantalizingly and said, "No, just bring you."
Monday morning found Tony arriving at the Calliende mansion at ten sharp. Located at the end of the secluded street, he realized there were no neighbors. The wrought iron gates opened before he stopped his truck, so he drove to the front door.
Tony was not accustomed to being in the ritzy section of town and took a few minutes to look over the place. The landscaping was immaculate, and Tony could only wonder what Mrs. Calliende had in mind for him to do. He rang the doorbell and stood back.
Teresa Calliende opened the door, clad only in a pair of very tight running shorts and a sheer sports bra. Perspiration had soaked both articles of clothing, and her dark nipples stood out proudly on her breasts. Her curly, raven-colored hair stuck to her forehead and neck. "Tony, come in. I would hug you, but I know you wouldn't want to hug a sweaty old lady," she said, smiling that dazzling smile again.
Tony said quickly, "Mrs. Calliende, you're not old and I'd love a hug from a lady as sexy as you, sweaty or not."
"Oh, you sure know how to make me feel good," she said, as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Let me get you to the garden and explain what we need. You can decide if you want the job while I shower. And you have to call me Teresa."
She took him by the hand and led him through the living room, with its high ceiling and chandelier, to the covered patio, offering him a seat and something to drink. Tony sat down and Teresa sat facing him. Her shorts were pulled up into her pussy, a fact that Tony noticed immediately, and her nipples continued to strain against the fabric of her bra. Even though the sports bra was tight, her tits pushed the fabric out, straining it until it was almost nonexistent. He tried not to stare, but his eyes kept wandering to her fabulous body.
Teresa, pleased with the way this was going, decided to open the dance. She stood up and slipped the skin-tight shorts over her hips and let them fall to the floor. Standing with her legs slightly spread, Tony noticed a small patch of hair just above her pussy lips. Next, she crossed her arms over her sumptuous chest and, grasping the elastic at the bottom of the sports bra, pulled it over her massive titties. They were pulled upwards momentarily, but bounced back into place, jiggling for a few milliseconds.
Tony swallowed, unbelieving, as Teresa sat back down. His eyes told the story, and Teresa was reveling in the sensation she was creating. "OK Tony, here's the deal. I was the first Mrs. Calliende's nurse, living here and attending to her medical needs. Sadly, she passed away a few years ago, and Mr. Calliende suggested that I stay on, helping him. We made a good couple, and were married four years ago. We love each other deeply, and I would do anything that man asked me to do."
"Sadly, he can't enjoy sex anymore, but he enjoys looking at me nude, and reminiscing. In fact, I'm not allowed to wear clothes in the house or garden, except when I exercise. When I'm going to be working in the sun, he applies suntan lotion so that I won't have any tan lines. He has had the house wired and cameras installed so that he can watch me anytime. Personally, I think it's a compliment, and often I act out fantasies for him. That's where you come in. I-we need a partner to fulfill one of Al's fantasies. He loves our gardens; the front is professionally done, but he allows me to handle the back. I spend quite a bit of time here, always nude, and one of his strongest fantasies is for me to "entertain" a handsome young gardener. That, of course would be you, if you agree," said Teresa, as she stood gracefully and moved to Tony's side.
