The Walled Garden - Sex Stories

The Walled Garden

... The sensation of my nipples rubbing against the fabric of my sweater. The sound of Rosa's breathy gasps in my ear, hot and moist like my pussy beneath my fingers...

I'd climaxed so hard I splashed water all over the bathroom floor. If Roberto had still been working in the garden, he'd have heard me as I moaned, "Ro- Ro- aaaah!"

That night was the best sleep I'd had in months. My dreams were strange, though. Running, chasing, searching. Trying to feel my way in the blackness. Sitting behind the wheel of a giant lorry as it raced down a steep viaduct.

There was something about my clothes being too tight for me as well, but that was probably just random.

Now I was determined to enjoy the experience. For too long I'd denied myself. I was going to ogle Roberto like a piece of meat, imagine what it was like to have him at my fingertips, ready to give me whatever pleasure I wanted.

And if Rosa wanted to moan in my ear while I imagined that, so much the better.Why should society tell me what's an acceptable turn-on? I demanded of no-one.It's my pleasure. I get to decide.

Through the binoculars I picked out the scab on Roberto's arm. It had almost healed. Too thin, too shallow to leave a scar. Good. The one on his hand was sexy enough.

"Take off your shirt, coño!" Rosa's voice was a whisper in my ear. "I want to see skin."

I was less impatient. Despite my eagerness, I was enjoying the spectacle before me. There was something satisfying about just watching a ...

... competent professional do his job. Roberto moved from plant to plant, from border to border, with calm assurance. He sized up every task with a maturity beyond his years, then set about doing what needed to be done.

I could almost imagine him running his expert eye over my naked body, taking note of where I needed attention, and then giving me what I needed. Coolly. Professionally. Almost dispassionately.

Like I was eying him now. Watching as he paused in his work to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. In my ear, Rosa whispered, "Yes! Yesss!"

His body was even hotter than the week before. Or maybe it was just my imagination, picturing what I'd do to him. Stroke every inch of skin, lick it, nibble at it. Suck at my favourite spots.

There was a ring of black hairs around each nipple. I could almost feel them under my lips, taste the sweat, inhale his scent. My breath rasped in my throat, as if I were some great cat stalking her prey.

In my ear Rosa was whispering something in impassioned Spanish. It was somewhere between a prayer and a statement of intent. I caught the occasional word, and even knowing Rosa I almost choked. Apparently in Spanish she had even fewer inhibitions.

Even so I was surprised when she switched to English. "I have to have him," she announced. "Sorry about your garden, Tina, but now Roberto is going to tend to my needs."

"Rosa!" I hissed back. "What are you doing?" But I already knew.

Moments later I saw the door of the ...