Do Some Gardening

My parents bought a new place and we'd just moved in. The house was very nice but it was going to take some time to get it (and us) properly organised. Mum was running around, trying to decide what furniture she wanted where, what she wanted to get rid, what she wanted to buy new.

It turned out that new covered all curtains and blinds. The few that were in the house were total crap. I pulled down the blind in my room and I really pulled it down. It came off its rollers and landed at my feet in a crumbling heap. Quite frankly, I considered that the condition of that blind was superior to the condition of my curtains. I pointed out to my mother that curtains and blinds had better be right up on top of her to do list.

There was a large double garage that had a lot of junk in it. It also had a lot of useful stuff according to my father. When he wasn't rearranging furniture for my mother or being dragged down to the shops to look at new furniture (and curtains, I hoped), he would be in the garage, trying to sort out the mess.

What really got me about our new place were the gardens. At some stage they had been lovely, well organised and thoughtfully arranged. Just not recently. Now they were an overgrown shambles. I mentioned this to my father.

"That was one of the attractions of this place," he said, his face perfectly bland. "Knowing how you like gardening I thought you'd see it as a challenge."

A challenge? Carving your way through the rain forest with a rusty machete, looking for a rare plant, would be a challenge. It would also probably be simpler that restoring this shambles back into a proper garden. However, I had my orders, however subtly given, and I turned my attention to the garden.

I didn't have to be back at work for a couple of weeks so I had plenty of time to start sorting things out. With the amount of amazing tangle in there I insisted that Dad get a mini skip so I had somewhere to dump everything. Then I pointed out that it would be a bit hard for me to dump the garden rubbish in the mini skip when he'd filled it with junk from the garage and maybe he should get it emptied and replaced.

The first few days went well. I was basically tearing out garbage and trimming overgrown bushes and it wasn't too long before you could get a decent idea of what the garden would eventually look like. Then came the first really hot day, warning that a hot summer was coming. After a few hours sweltering in the heat I decided to give the garden a miss for a few hours. Hopefully it would cool down a little in the late afternoon.

Mum had dragged Dad off to the shops again and I had the house to myself for a few hours. I came in from the garden, grotty and smelly and sweaty and hot and sticky and generally with a severe case of the irrits. I stripped off and took a shower, washing all of my discomforts away in a stream of warm water. (Not hot. Not in this weather.) I padded back to my bedroom, nude, feeling naughty and free.

Once in my bedroom I flicked on the air conditioner. This was the first time I'd required it. Why was I not surprised when it didn't work? I SMS'd a message to Dad telling him that he might like to check out modern air conditioners while he was out. He SMS'd "DAMN" back to me. Language, Dad.

We didn't have any fans. Our previous house had working air conditioners and we hadn't needed any. I went and opened my windows wide, hoping to catch what breeze there was. I also looked out at the garden, noting the work I'd done and the work that I still needed to be doing. Satisfied with my progress I then backed up to my bed, spread my arms wide, and just flopped backward onto it.

I just lay there for a few minutes. A little voice told me I really should get up off the bed and do some work around the house. There were still plenty of things that needed to be done. Boxes to unpack, things to be put away, some cleaning to be done. Hop up, get some clothes on, get to work, the little voice said. Stuff it, I said in reply. Everything can wait while I relax.

I really should have listened to that little voice. I was lying there, eyes shut, completely relaxed, and someone spoke to me, and that someone was not the little voice.

"Very nice. Very nice, indeed. You look quite lovely lying there like that."

Talk about an 'oh, shit' moment. I was alone in the house, naked, lying on my bed in a manner that was displaying everything I had and now I find I was not alone in the house. My eyes popped open and I was looking with horror at a large figure leaning against the doorway to my bedroom, admiring me.

I just froze for a moment or two, and he took the opportunity to keep right on looking. No apology and backing away. Not from this man. Then I snapped out of it and convulsed into a sitting position, arms folded across my breasts and legs firmly together.

I also recognized the man. I'd actually spoken to him several times across the fence. It was Tom, from next door. He was also a keen gardener and had given me a few tips while I was working. He'd offered to come around and help me if I thought I really needed it. So far I hadn't.

"Wh-what?" was about all I was able to say.

"I saw you cavorting around in here and thought I'd better come over and see if you needed some help," Tom said, "Especially when you stood in the window letting me admire you."

Oh, geez. I'd completely overlooked that a window in Tom's place was opposite my window, and I had no curtains or blinds yet. Thanks, Mum. I said to put those things on the priority list. Not only that, I'd been standing at the open window, boobs hanging out, wishing for a breeze and inspecting my garden. I flicked a glance at the window and, to my chagrin I was abruptly reminded that they were full length windows. It wasn't just my breasts that I'd had on display.

I looked back at Tom and the rotten man was looking amused.

"You know, when a man such as myself sees a nubile young woman making such a blatant display of herself there's really only one course of action open to them," he said, and the regretful look was he gave me was a masterpiece of more in sorrow than anger.

I could feel myself going pale. Unfortunately I could also feel an odd excitement starting to burn inside. An unwanted excitement. For god's sake, he was an old man. Nearly as old as my father.

"You're going to rape me?" I whispered, hoping I sounded horrified and not expectant.

"Rape you?" Tome exclaimed, sounding genuinely shocked. "For shame for even thinking I'd do something like that. No, I was thinking that your behaviour has been inappropriate and you needed a little gentle correction. I mean, flashing at the window. Shocking."

"Then what do you think you're going to do?" I demanded.

"Oh, I thought a spanking might help guide you to watching your future behaviour. Of course, if you'd prefer to be raped. . ."

His voice tailed off suggestively.

"No! Anyway, if you've got any complaints about my behaviour why don't you just take it up with my parents?"

"You're an adult," Tom pointed out. "I can't see your parents having much control over what you now do apart from looking at you in a disappointed way and shaking their heads sadly. And I really can't see your father giving you a spanking dressed the way you are."

He was right on both counts. If my mother knew I'd been flashing the neighbours (even though it was accidental) shaking her head sadly would have been just her reaction. As for my father, he wouldn't dream of spanking me, even if I was fully dressed. He'd be scandalised if he saw me naked.

"All right, you've made your point. I apologise. I was distracted when I found the air conditioner didn't work and I just automatically opened the window."

"And you opened them very nicely," said Tom, smiling.

He turned and looked up at the air conditioner. He thumped the wall next to the power point it was plugged into and it burst into life.

"Old Mrs Martin used to kick it," he said, indicating a scruffy patch on the plaster. "There's a loose connection. You just need to get an electrician to take a look at it."

"Oh. Thank you. Ah, if you don't mind I'd like to get dressed now."

"You're forgetting something," came the amused response.

The hell I was. I was hoping he would.

"What do you mean?" I asked, full of naïve innocence.

The swine had the gall to laugh at me. He strolled over and sat next to me.

"The spanking, remember? To help you remember to be a good girl in future."

"I'll remember. There's no need to spank me," I pointed out, feeling slightly desperate.

"Need, no. Desire, yes. I find my hand is itching to paddle that cute little derriere of yours. Come along now."

He took hold of my wrist, drawing me towards him, plainly intent on putting me across his knee.

"Wait. Can't I put some panties on first?" I pleaded.

"Well, you could, but that would just mean that I'd have to peel them off you, so why bother. If you're worried that I'll see more than I should, don't be. I already have."

With that he renewed his tugging on my wrist and it was either do as he wanted and bend over his knee or go into full self-defence mode and try to fight him off. I looked at him. I mean, I really looked at him. He was big and burly, and that wasn't fat on him, I was sure. It was all muscle. If I tried to wrestle with him he'd beat me in five seconds flat. If it lasted that long. I sighed and capitulated.

Oh, geez. Finding myself lying across a man's lap with my naked bum sticking up in the air made me feel incredibly wanton. I could feel excitement burning inside me again. I mean, I was naked. He was going to spank me and I was lying on his lap, naked. How could this be?

"Ok, sweetheart," he murmured. "Just so you know that you're safe, relatively speaking, I'll tell you how this will proceed. I'll be spanking you on your cheeks."

His hand was drifting cross my cheeks, indicating the area he was going to spank. I could feel the tips of his fingers just very lightly brushing against my bottom as his hand moved around. My god, if he kept doing that I was going to start getting wet. The man was a monster.

"Now you're probably a little worried that I might try to take unfair advantage of you while you're like this. Rest assured I won't be touching you in this area at any time."

His hand drifted down to indicate the area he wasn't going to touch. There was a feather-light movement of fingertips gliding softly over my mound. I could feel my legs involuntarily drifting further apart as Tom traced my mound all the way round to my mons. How he managed that with just the tips of his fingers touching me is beyond me. God, he must know what that touch was doing inside me. I was feeling even hotter and I was quite sure that my lips had parted and were probably glistening with moisture.

"Don't touch me there," I gasped, squirming slightly.

"Don't worry. I won't," he assured me. "This area will be completely off-limits."

Maybe so, but did he have to define the area in such detail? I'll swear that his fingertips managed to brush across every square inch of my pussy.

"Shall we commence?" he suggested, and I gave a yelp as his hand came down smartly on my bottom.

"Damn it, that hurt," I wailed.

"It's a spanking," he pointed out. "It's supposed to hurt."

His hand came down again and I bounced under the strike and yelped again. For some reason his free hand circled under me and covered my breasts.

"Why, yow, are you touching, ow, stop, my breasts," I wailed, while he went on having his fun.

"I thought you might find it distracting to have them bouncing around while I spanked you," came the calm reply. "I'll just hold them steady for you."

How can a man groping your breasts make it sound so reasonable? Especially while he was spanking you?

"I'd rather you didn't," I managed to get out, in between yelps and squeals and requests for him to cease and desist.

"OK," he said. "Not a problem."

His hand moved to the small of my back, while the spanking went ahead. My god, I was now aware of how my breasts were bouncing around every time my body got jolted by that hand coming down on my bottom. Worse still, I was aware that he was aware that my breasts were bouncing about and the rotten beast was probably enjoying watching them.

"Now you do know why you're getting this spanking?" he asked.

"Yes," I half screamed. "Now please stop."

"And that reason is?"

"Because you're a brute and thought you'd have some fun spanking me," I yelled.

The monster gave my bottom one last spank and laughed.

"Close enough, I guess," he said. "We'll call that a day. Now you will concede that I kept my word and only spanked your cheeks?"

His fingers were brushing, oh so lightly, across my poor battered bottom.

"Yes," I snapped. "Let me up now."

"And I didn't take unfair advantage by molesting you in this area, now did I?"

For god's sake. He again started showing me where he hadn't touched me by touching me there. And he wasn't so shy about it, his hand briskly rubbing against my mound. I was damned sure he could feel the unwanted heat inside me and he could probably detect the moisture there, which was probably leaking out and lubricating the area.

"Yes," I said quickly. "You kept your word. Now let me up."

With that Tom swung me to my feet and just like that I was standing in front of him, looking startled, no doubt, with my hands hovering around my bottom, wanting to rub it but not wanting him to have the satisfaction of seeing me do so.

From possibly looking startled I became very startled when Tom stood up and started undoing his trousers.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered.

"Taking off my trousers," he replied, stating the obvious.

"You said you weren't going to rape me," I protested, feeling slightly sick and excited, both at the same time.

"That's correct. I wouldn't do that."

His trousers dropped and, for someone who had no intention of raping an innocent young miss such as myself, his cock looked as though it was both ready and capable of doing just that.

"Then why are you getting undressed," I said through gritted teeth. I wanted to scream with frustration. The man was simply maddening.

"I am getting undressed because, unless you tell me not to, I'm going to lay you on that bed, ease your legs apart, and then have sex with you."

What? He said he wasn't going to rape me and now he was saying he was?

"But, but you said you weren't going to rape me," I protested, highly indignant. He'd lied to me.

He'd also taken my arms, turned me around and pushed me back down onto the bed. Just like that he'd lifted my legs up off the floor and swung me around so that I was lying properly on the bed, legs parted.

"I suspect that you're deliberately not listening," he said, climbing onto the bed and kneeling between my thighs. "I said I was going to have sex with you, unless you told me not to. As of yet, you haven't told me not to."

I looked down at where his cock was now scraping back and forth along my slit, teasing my lips and looking as though it was glistening slightly. My juices were on his cock, I realised. And I still hadn't told him not to.

I was going to tell him to stop. Really I was. I just seemed to run out of time. His hand was there, moving my lips apart, then his cock was there, pressing between them.

"I, ah, you, um, that is," I mumbled, and he promptly stopped and looked at me, waiting for me to finish what I was going to say. I stared back at him, confused. What was I going to say? My eyes dropped and I watched fascinated as his cock pressed against me. I could actually feel that thing pressing against my inner lips.

I didn't say anything and Tom didn't say anything, but I felt the weight of his cock seem to increase. It was getting so heavy that my body was giving way, letting it go in. Now I could feel his cock moving smoothly into my passage and it was way too late to tell him not to do that.

Tom moved slowly but surely, sinking into me. I could feel him inside me. Boy, could I feel him, fat and hot and hard and pushing deeper. I was hot and wet and my willing flesh just melted away as his cock descended, closing and clinging after he passed. I gave a gasp as I felt his groin slap firmly against mine, knowing he had me just where I wanted him.

His hands were on my breasts, stroking them, teasing them, agitating my nipples and sending little ripples of excitement deeper into me. My nipples, I suddenly realised, had been hard ever since Tom had groped my breasts while spanking me. Now they were letting me know how sensitive and excited they were.

Tom started pulling back, withdrawing slowly. I waited, almost trembling with eagerness, for him to stop and charge back into me. He didn't. He just popped right out, leaving me lying there, stunned.

"Roll over," came the soft command, and it was a command. Not a suggestion.

I rolled onto my tummy and Tom's hands closed around my hips. He lifted me slightly, and I could feel his cock pressing against me again. I scrabbled to get my knees under me, holding me in position, then he was taking me again, driving fiercely in, his arms around me as he fondled my breasts again.

This time he didn't muck around. He got right to it, driving himself into me again and again. I was squealing and bucking under him, pushing firmly back to meet him, wanting him in me just as much as he wanted to be there.

It was wonderful, feeling him sliding back and forth in me, every stroke teasing my nerves, building on the excitement. We seemed to just fall into a mutually agreeable rhythm, with Tom driving in hard and fast, but not too fast. Much nicer if you can prolong things.

It went on and on, and I passed on into a dream state, just letting the feelings have their way with me. I was no longer consciously reacting and pushing against Tom. It was all just happening without me doing a thing but feel.

I could hear myself making appreciative noises. I was also vaguely aware of a pleading note creeping into my voice. My excitement was riding high, but there was something missing, I just knew it. I guess that something missing was what I was pleading for.

Tom kept on moving in me, and my excitement was now really riding me. I had reached a plateau, but it wasn't the right one. Something more was needed and the wanting was starting to upset me. I wasn't pleading anymore, I was demanding, pushing myself harder against Tom, trying to force something.

Tom finally responded, driving in faster. The extra fillip sent my excitement rising rapidly and Tom was hitting me faster and faster. I was almost screaming by this stage, my body responding violently to Tom's action.

I climaxed with a shriek and then clamped my mouth closed while waves of pleasurable relief rolled through me. Tom was climaxing, too. I could tell from his reactions and the way he sagged over me, sort of collapsing onto me. Not that I could talk. I'd collapsed face down on the bed and I wasn't going anywhere.

I felt Tom withdraw, but it was with a detached sort of interest. I was incapable of reacting to it. I just lay there, face down, bum up, slowly letting my energy recover.

When I finally had enough energy to roll over and sit up I found Tom was dressed and standing there, watching me, and looking amused.

He lifted a finger.

"Point one. Kick the wall to turn on the AC or get an electrician in."

Another finger joined the first.

"Point two. Tell your mother that curtains are a priority."

The third finger lifted.

"Point three. No more nudies at the open window."

I gave him what was supposed to be a cold look. It's hard to give a cold look and be all proud and haughty when you don't have clothes on.

"Points taken," I said. "Now if you'll excuse me I want to have a shower and get dressed."