How Does Your Garden Grow?

"I'm just saying that the house is more than you need to be handling now, Mother."

"I like this house, John. I'm not going to just cut and run because I'm alone now."

"I've seen the toll it's taken on you." Joyce's son, determined to get the unpleasant topic out in the open now that his dad had been gone for four months, set his jaw, prepared to dig in.

"That was because all of the care your dad required those last two years," John's wife, Susan, chimed in. "Mother Creasy looks absolutely luminous now, don't you think? And the house. It's never been in better shape. Look out into the garden. It looks terrific. I'd say your mother was doing just fine here."

John glared at his wife across the patio table on the terrace. They had had this discussion before they'd driven over here. Susan hadn't supported him then, but she certainly hadn't indicated that she would undercut him here. His mother was pushing seventy. She'd been frail and depressed by her husband's long illness, and they'd all feared she wouldn't be able to cope even until her husband had passed. She had, but now she was alone, she was old, and the house was too much for her. John was quite willing to take the house over when his mother went into a retirement community. In fact he was anxious to do so; it was just what Susan and he needed, in the right neighborhood, and, he had to admit that Susan was right; it looked in top shape right now.

Joyce set her gaze past her son and daughter-in-law, politely acting like she didn't see the daggers being tossed back and forth. Her focus went to the young, black college student, Travis, she'd hired two months before her husband had died out of desperation as a general handyman and to bring the garden back from the brink of jungle and to do some of the minor repairs on the house itself. Travis had finished mowing what little yard there was in Joyce's naturalized garden and now was pruning the bushes that were best cut back as they were preparing to go dormant in the fall.

Travis had been a godsend—in so many ways.

"I think I can manage quite well here as long as Travis is willing to provide his services," she said, cutting in over the muttering between John and Susan. "He's been a godsend. He's highly capable, and it gives me a good feeling to provide a disadvantaged but deserving young man like that a job while he's struggling through college."

"Well, I wish he'd wear more than that when he works here," John muttered. "I don't know why the young women in this neighborhood wag their tongues at someone from over in his section of town when they pass your yard. Whenever we're here there's some young woman walking slow past here and mooning over him."

It's probably because he has a body to die for, Joyce thought. But she didn't say it.

"More cake or iced tea?" was what she said instead, smiling sweetly.

* * * *

"More cake or iced tea?" Joyce asked Travis as he cooled down from his shower at the end of his day in the garden. He was sitting at the kitchen table with just a towel around his waist. It had been three months since Joyce had insisted that it was silly that he would have to go home clear across town sweaty from a day's work on a particularly hot summer. Since then, having him shower here was more of a benefit for Joyce than for him, she recognized.

"No, ma'am, thanks. It was good, but I've had enough."

"Would you be interested in something else sweet today? You've finished early. I've paid you through another hour."

"Yes, ma'am, that would be nice."

Joyce rose from her chair, took a step toward his, and lowered her face for a kiss. Her hand ran down to his heavily muscled chocolate-brown chest and she sighed at the hardness of him and the way his nipples puffed up at her touch. The glories of young men, she thought. Always ready to go.

His hand went to the buttons on her blouse. After John and Susan had left and before Travis had come into the house, Joyce had taken her bra off. She liked the feel of skin on the material as she contemplated the services Travis provided for her. He fumbled with the button and zipper of her pants, and as they lowered, she happily felt him shudder and heard him gasp when he realized she wasn't wearing any panties either. His lips went to her belly and he licked and kissed her there as she held his head to her stomach between her hands, enjoying the feel of short coarse hair and the clean, musky scent of a young man. She enjoyed everything about Travis' hard-muscled body, especially the ramrod thickness of him inside her.

He maneuvered her around to in front of him, and, legs spread and feet still on the floor, she laid back on the table and moaned, taking hold of her breasts and squeezing them and thumbing her nipples, as his lips went to the folds between her thighs. She gave a little cry and raised her torso off the surface of the table as his tongue—and then his teeth—found her clit and started sucking it hard and rolling it with his tongue. Panting and whimpering, she slowly lowered her shoulder blades back onto the table, only to cry out again and come up on her elbows and widen the stance of her legs as his fingers entered her cunt and began to explore.

She grabbed his head to her center and held him there and was seeing bright lights and shivering and moving her hips against his face as he relentless sucked on the clit and fingered her cunt. Fingers of his other hand were rimming her other entrance, pressing in, preparing her there as well. The table began to rasp against the floor as she writhed under him. She knew what he liked; she knew she'd have him hard and throbbing in both channels.

"Oh, sweet god, don't make me wait, Travis," she cried out. "Fuck me, Fuck ME, FUCK ME!"

He rose from his chair, and she reached for his waist and stripped the towel away. Her hands went straight for the cock, hard for her. Her own personal big, black cock. He laughed as she pulled the shaft inside her. No condoms here. She'd told him she'd take care of that always. She didn't tell him that it didn't matter because within months the same cancer who took her husband would be claiming her. This was the Indian summer of her life, a short period of false healthy glow, augmented by having a young, virile lover, before her last, short winter set in.

So, none of it mattered. All that mattered was that she get this while she could. This huge black cock pumping inside her as she hooked her ankles on the young, black stud's shoulders and gasped and groaned and luxuriated with every hard, vigorous stroke of him. Crying out as he palmed her buttocks and spread them and raised them, his cock dragging out of her cunt and sliding down the perineum and penetrating the tighter ass channel, where soon, too soon, she would receive the hot flow of him.

When he'd first asked for it—no, forced it, to be honest—it had scared her spitless. But now? What the hell. He was hot; it was hot; what else did she have to live for?

The best of all gardeners she could have.

* * * *

Walking down the driveway in the dusk, counting the generous number of bills Mrs. Creasy had pressed in his hand, Travis laughed at the cushy arrangement he had here. The old girl was in fine shape. He was already looking ahead to her getting him through college. He liked younger women better—especially married ones who wouldn't complicate his life—but the old dame could still shake her booty and could be fun. They'd done it together in the shower after doing it in the kitchen, her hugging his hips with her legs and him fucking her up and down on the slick tiled wall under the running water, and she had clung to him and squeezed his cock in her cunt like she couldn't get enough of the shafting, like there was no tomorrow.

At the end of the driveway, he looked to the left, and as he expected, the black sedan was sitting there, idling, waiting for him. He wondered how Mrs. Creasy thought he managed to get home after doing her handyman work, her garden, and her cunt. Guess she didn't think of much beyond him doing her as good as he did. Didn't know he had a ride—after doing some more riding. He laughed at his own joke.

"You're late," the woman said, as he got in the backseat of the car.

"Extra work today," he answered.

"She works you too hard."

He wanted to answer that he worked Mrs. Creasy harder than she worked him, but, under the circumstances, he didn't think that was a good idea.

Susan drove around the block and pulled up into the short drive at the back of the Creasy lot, behind the pile of brush and wood pile Travis had told Joyce would fit perfectly there between back parking space and the house.

Susan joined the black stud in the backseat, unzipped him, and lowered her mouth on his cock. She gave a special cock sucking, getting her tongue up there in his piss slit and making him wild. Not long afterward, he had her kneeling on the seat, knees on either side of his hips, back arched over the back of the front seat from which, to John's chagrin, she had insisted on stripping the head rests. Travis sucked on her clit and fingered her cunt and ass as Susan stared out of the moon roof at the swaying tree branches overhead and clawed at the velour material of the car's ceiling, a habit she was trying to break, because John recently had voiced questions about those marks, but that she was unable to help because of the intensity of the young black stud's glorious attacks on her clit, cunt, and ass.

She was rocking up and down and back and forward, moaning deeply, and begging for the fuck, with, unappreciated by her, made the black stud laugh because of how similar her pleas were to her mother-in-law's just an hour previously, when Travis pulled her down, down, down onto his throbbing cock. As he did so, he leaned over and took a nipple between his teeth, and began to raise and lower her cunt on his embedded cock. As he pumped her, he contemplated whether he wanted to have her in the ass tonight too. She was wild for him either way.

"This is heaven," she cried out, meaning it. Still a bit frightened from this afternoon when John wanted to convince his mother to move to a retirement community. That would mean no more Travis. That would mean no more clit sucking and deep fucking by a young, virile, thick, black cock. No more ass fucking, which she hoped would be included tonight.

Good thing her mother-in-law had looked so healthy and content this afternoon. Susan had no idea what she was doing to look that way, but she wanted it to go on forever, so that Travis would be around and pumping inside her forever. He was lifting her, changing holes, and she started babbling incoherently.