Gardening at Mrs Chesters ch 2 - Sex Stories

Gardening at Mrs Chesters ch 2

... and the bulge that lay within them. She could hardly believe that she was having such impure thoughts about this boy, the son of one of her friends at the club. So, to try and distract herself, she immediately set out about some tasks in the kitchen. For his part, Jonathan felt the need to relieve himself and was about to start up the garden and inside to the cloakroom when he recalled the request he had received about peeing on the compost heap. He went behind the short fence, pulled down the front of the elasticated waistband and eased his now softened member out of confinement. He began to pee. Dorothy waved goodbye to Sarah and went quickly back inside and upstairs. In the bathroom she was about to use the WC at the back of the house when, glancing out of the clear glass pane, noticed Jonathan standing still, his head visible but his remainder hidden from view by the five foot fence at the bottom of her garden. He appeared to be concentrating. She remained watching, intrigued. She saw him glance down and could see his body shaking slightly as presumably he finished his peeing. He remained standing, however, and leaned slowly back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t moved, stood stock still and appeared to be concentrating. “Oh my god,” she thought. “Is he playing with himself?” She went quickly downstairs through the hall and in to the kitchen. She eased the kitchen door open, as quietly as she could, and padded into the garden. She could still see the top of his head in the ...

... same place. She was going to creep up on him from the other side of the fence. Behind it on her side was the garden shed. She had to be quick and she had to be quiet. There was a slight wind which helped to cover the sound of her shoes on the stone flags. She slipped the shed door open and almost tripped over the garden fork propped up in there, cursing under her breath. Taking a moment to compose herself, she took few breaths and considered what she was about to do. Should she, shouldn’t she. It seemed inappropriate, underhand, and a little devious. She paused, took another breath and then moved steadily to the back of the shed where she happened to know there was a small knot hole. From it she guessed she could the whole of the vegetable patch, including the compost stack which was right by it and most importantly she simply had to see exactly what Jon was up to. Before his last visit, his only ‘inspirational’ thoughts about Dorothy had been her neck, her underarm tangle of hair, her imperious air and her bared, haired arms, all of which apparently ‘did it’ for him. Then he had spotted her dirty wall picture a couple of days back and, more recently, the fluffed nipples from her top when she was working in the garden. It wasn’t much, but coupled with his raging coltish hormones, it was enough. He was easily roused and not easily deflated. The shorts she had mistakenly supplied him with had left him with little room for expansion but he hadn’t made the connection yet. With ...