It was the University Summer break and I was looking for any work I could get. I was picking up a bit of work here and the doing gardening for family friends. Mrs Parkinson, the mother of one of my friends, gave me a call asking for some help in her garden and so the next day I turned up. The Parkinson's lived in a palatial house with a big rambling garden. It was largely a well kept affair but there were a couple of sections that had become unmanageable and required a major clear out. Mrs Parkinson normally managed the garden herself but this tidy up required a bit of brute force. I had visited the house numerous times and was quite familiar with the family. I wasn't as familiar with Mr Parkinson as he was a banker who travelled frequently but I had shared many meals with the rest of the family, Mrs Parkinson, my friend Tom and his little sister Sally.
Mrs Parkinson was about 45 years old I would guess, but I am not great at estimating women's ages. She was not tall and had quite a buxom sort of figure. She had quite broad shoulders and matching hips but they were accentuated by a narrow waist. She never dressed to accentuate her bust but there was a hint of heaviness there. She had dark straight hair with some hints of grey, cut in what I think is called a bob. One of her most attractive features was her olive skin. Very smooth looking; almost like it had a sheen. As I noticed when we were working, her legs were also excellent for a woman of her age. She was not beautiful but had a pert face with a cute button nose that meant she could definitely be called attractive. Another feature I really like were her big doe like eyes. She had a bit over an over bite but I find that it can sometimes be quite cute on a woman. Sort of makes them look vulnerable.
Mrs Parkinson worked with me, instructing me about where to direct my energies. It wasn't so much gardening as demolition work, hacking out undergrowth, bushes and shrubs. I was enjoying working with her. She was quite talkative and interested in what I was studying etc. After about an hour I developed the thought that she appeared lonely. I knew that Mr Parkinson travelled a great deal and that both her children had left home. She had never worked as far as I know so she probably had a lot of time on her hands.
Without any conscious decision being made I found myself sneaking peaks of her legs or watching for breast movement from within her baggy blouse. She seemed totally oblivious to my subtle leering. I had never thought of her in a sexual way before and I was a little surprised at how arousing I was finding her.
At one stage I was topping a hedge and the step ladder I had wedged into the soft earth wobbled. I found myself in the hedge. I was unhurt aside from a superficial but bloody gash to my upper inner right thigh. Mrs Parkinson was horrified and shepherded me into the atrium which overlooked their garden. She sat me on a chair and scurried away to get a dressing. She returned and knelt in front of me. I spread my legs so that she could get access to the wound. As she bathed the gash, I had a clear view down the front of her loose fitting blouse. She was wearing some sort of sports bra that did a good job of moulding her ample bust and the resulting cleavage was impressive. I could also smell her musky aroma. The work we had been doing was quite physical and she exuded an odour of expensive perfume mixed with an earthy, womanly scent. These factors combined with the fact that she was working less than six inches from my crotch had a natural but embarrassing effect. To compound my shame, I was wearing light nylon shorts. My erection rose unfettered and prominent. By now she had finished dressing the wound and was applying the adhesive tape to secure the bandage.
She never looked up at me directly and appeared to be giving her full attention to the dressing but I did catch a glimpse of her eyes flickering onto the tent in my shorts. She had been talking away in a random sort of fashion but her conversation had dried up.
She licked her lips and continued to smooth the dressing with her hands. I heard her sigh and noted that her breathing had become faster and seemingly deeper. She was now practically massaging my thigh and her gaze was unabashedly at my tented shorts.
She looked up at me with a distant, dreamy sort of a look. "Did I really cause that", she asked timidly, nodding towards my groin. "Do you really find me attractive in that way?"
