The Autumn Garden

All things considered, things hadn't turned out to badly for Clare. She still missed Roger on occasion, but those occasions were few, and she'd found that most of what she missed about him could easily be supplied by the men she picked up in the bars and supper clubs that surrounded Hidden Lake, and in a quantity and quality far more to her liking than anything Roger had ever been able to provide. He'd left her well-off financially, though, with his pension from the university and a nice annuity, as well as the house in town and this lovely, brand-new luxury A-frame on the lake, completed not long before his final heart attack. It was a shame he'd hardly ever gotten to use it, and often when Clare stepped out on the big redwood deck to have her morning coffee or take the sun, she thought of him and tried to do it fondly. But those occasions were growing rarer too. She was still a very good-looking woman and had a lot of life ahead of her and she intended to make the most of it. There was really nothing to be gained by dwelling on the past.

Cory Beckwith was calling to her from the far edge of Roger's garden, way back by the woods, calling to her and waving to attract her attention. He had his shirt off, which was encouraging, and Clare took a moment just to admire him, that lean young body and soft, sun-bleached curls. She could have had the Mexicans plow up Roger's garden and sod it over, but in a stroke of genius she'd hired Cory to do it. As far as she was concerned, the vegetables could lie there and rot, but this gave her a convenient excuse to have the young college student over for some nice, sweaty, outdoor work, and from the way she caught him looking at her as she stretched out on the deck in bikini top and shorts to take the warm autumn sun, he might soon be doing even more.

But right now he was calling her, and Clare sat up and lowered her sunglasses against the glare. A drop of perspiration ran languidly down between her breasts as she got to her feet and went to the rail.

"What is it, Cory? I can't hear you!"

He was yelling something to her, but she couldn't hear a thing over the roar of the crew swarming over the Zimring's lawn next door, cleaning up leaves and trimming and edging. She pointed to her ears and shrugged to show she couldn't hear, and Cory raised his arms in exasperation and began trudging back through the ruined and wilted garden. Clare watched him come and carefully adjusted the straps on her top and wondered if she had time to give herself another quick coating of oil, but she was already sleek and glistening from the last application, so instead she turned her back to him and pretended to be fussing with getting her clogs on so he'd at least get a good shot of her back and the thong that emerged from the low waistband of her tight shorts.

The roaring of the leaf blowers stopped just as Cory approached her, and the sudden silence was jarring.

"Perfect timing," he joked, and Clare smiled. He cleared his throat and called up his adult voice and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "You know, the garden there runs beyond the far fence," he said. "You didn't tell me that. There's more stuff out there outside the fence, like growing wild. Pumpkins and stuff. You want me to do that too?"

Clare had been looking at him and it took her a moment to focus on what he was saying. "Oh? It does?"

"Yeah. Thins out by the fence there, then starts up again and runs right up into the trees at the edge of the woods, even back into it a little ways."

"Oh? Oh my!" She put on her helpless-widow face and looked down as if she were thinking, but he was so close she could see the fine line of hair that ran like a little beard from just below his navel to down into his low-hanging jeans. "Oh, I didn't know! But yes, of course. Can you take care of that for me too? I'll certainly pay you extra."

"Sure, Mrs. Brendt, no problem. I just don't know how far you want me to go. Here, come have a look. I'll show you."

"Clare," she corrected. "Please call me Clare. Mrs. Brendt makes me feel like an old lady!"

He smiled apologetically. "Clare," he repeated. "Okay."

And to show him that she was in no way anything like an old lady, she made a little show of slipping into her thin white shirt, arching her back as she slid her arms into the sleeves to make herself bulge over her stretched top.

It worked, and his eyes slid down to her chest for a good long moment, and when he looked up he was smiling, a funny little grin that gave her a thrill, and made her exult inside. Yes! It was going to happen. She could tell from that grin. She just had to play her cards right and drop a few more hints, and it would happen. Cory wasn't the dumb piece of beefcake he might look.

He turned and walked down the stairs with Clare following, sorry she hadn't gone first so he could watch her ass.

The October sun was warm, and hotter down in the bare dirt of the garden than it had been up on the deck. The plot was large and ambitious as befitted a professor of biology who'd always itched to grow his own food, and Clare found walking on the dead weeds and raw turned earth unpleasant, as if she were walking on a grave. She tried to ignore the feeling and instead kept her eyes on the twin dimples on either side of Cory's spine just above his belt. She thought idly about what it would be like to press her nipples into those dimples just for fun, but she knew that would be too weird for him. He was just a kid and wouldn't appreciate the strange urges and fancies of a mature woman.

They reached the fence and Cory pointed at the ground beyond. "Here," he said, waving his arm in a vague arc, and Clare saw what he was talking about. There were low weeds outside the fence, and scattered among them she could see some fat pumpkins and gourds, rotting and half sinking into the ground, and even the decrepit remains of what must have been home-made trellises, now being held up by thick tangles of dying vines that clung to them like survivors of a shipwreck.

"There. And all the way into the tree line there and even into the woods. You want me to clean all this stuff up too?"

Clare looked at the mess in distaste. The jumble of dead weeds and rotting vegetables and blackened, writhing vines made her vaguely nauseous. She'd never liked gardens and had never particularly liked plants, but there was something actually unpleasant about the way these fat, hairy stems wound among the decaying produce and plunged snakelike into the earth, still in search of sustenance to feed their dead and decaying fruit.

Cory misread her distaste as uncertainty and said, "A couple weeks ago before that big frost I probably could have salvaged some of this stuff and sold it in town. People need pumpkins for Halloween, and they always like buying local stuff. There's some big ones out here too. Or were. They're all just mulch now, all rotten."

He bent and lifted a gray-green stalk as thick as his thumb. It must have been attached to a big pumpkin he wanted to show her, but as he yanked it up the decaying fruit fell off and all that was left was a small chunk of thick orange shell, black around the edges and dripping some sort of vile, yellowish, putrescence.

Clare repressed a shudder, and even Cory made a sound of disgust as he threw it down into the weeds.

He wiped his hands on his jeans and looked around "It's a big garden," he said. "My Uncle farms outside of town and grows all his own vegetables, and his garden isn't half this big."

"Yes, well, Doctor Brendt taught botany at the university. We bought this place specifically so he could have a garden, and I think he used to bring some of his projects up here. He must have planted some outside the fence."

Cory looked at her with interest. "Oh yeah? Cool. But all that stuff outside the fence looks pretty wild. No rhyme or reason, like he just threw stuff out there." He craned his neck to look off into the woods. "Although, that's really a pretty far throw."

"I really wouldn't know. It was his garden. I never set foot in it or even looked at it till today. Dr. Brandt and I weren't especially close."

Cory missed that hint, and Clare saw that things were in danger of getting away from her. Her little seduction was threatening to turn into a talk on horticulture, which was the last thing she wanted. She needed to close this issue and bring the attention back to her.

"Well, maybe just clean up around the fence so the Mexicans can tear all this down without standing in rotten vegetables and vines. Burn it even, I don't care. I just don't want to have to look at it anymore. I'm going to re-sod the whole area next season and maybe make a little enclosed patio."

"Yeah, that'd be nice. And hey, if you need anyone to do some of the landscaping work for you..."

She was relieved to see the grin was back, and she gave him the slightest cock of an eyebrow in encouragement—just a little and not too much. And while his eyes were on her she took the opportunity to reach behind her and remove the elastic that held her hair up, raising her elbows a bit higher than necessary and taking a bit longer than removing the scrunchy really demanded. The smooth silk shirt she was wearing parted and slid away to reveal her bikini-clad breasts with perfect timing, and her dark glasses allowed her to watch Cory's face.

She shook her hair out and ran her fingers through it, still the same glossy burnt sienna she'd had when she was a girl, with just a strands of gray that provided a regal and distinguished touch. She pretended to study the sky. "But you know, it's getting on to be the hottest time of day, and I don't want you working out in this sun. Why don't we take a break and I'll make us some lunch. You can take a dip to clean up, and by the time you're out, I'll have it on the table."

Cory smiled. "Hey, that sounds good to me. But you know, I didn't like bring a suit."

"Then swim in your shorts," she said in her best offhand manner. "Or go in the buff. I won't look, and no one else is going to see you. I know that from experience." Now it was her turn to give him a little leer. "Just stay this side of the dock and no one can see. And besides, it's not like I've never seen a man before, Cory. I'm well past the giggling stage, I assure you."

He smiled but she saw him blush even behind that gorgeous tan, then turned on her heel before he could see her blush as well and started walking back toward the house. "I'll leave you some towels down on the dock so you can cover up as soon as you get out. And I won't peek—promise!"

She threw him a final grin. "Lunch will take me about fifteen, twenty minutes, so enjoy yourself."

She walked away, her face red and her heart pounding at her own boldness. Even so, she still had the presence of mind to put a little sway in her walk to give him a show.

"So what do you want to do about the rest of that stuff out there? The stuff out by the woods?"

She waved a hand without looking back. "The hell with it. Let it rot."

~ ~ ~

It all went so easily. Cory came in flush and buff from his swim, never even bothering to put on a shirt. She served him her special BLT and then sat and watched him eat, leaning on the table in such a way that she gave him a good view of her dark and inviting cleavage, and even just the slightest peek of some areola to keep her own excitement up. It worked perfectly. Cory's face took on a dark and wolf-like cast as chewed his food and looked at her.

Afterwards she managed to brush up against him with a little more pressure than she'd intended as he left the kitchen, and that was pretty much all it took.

She pretended to be shocked when he grabbed her and pressed her back against the wall, and she put up just a bit of token resistance for appearance's sake, but her, "No! Please, don't!" didn't fool either of them, and when his mouth came down on hers and he pressed that lean young body against her and she felt the hardness of his chest against her skin, she gave up all pretense of a struggle and just melted against him, pushing her hips against that thick, hard bulge in his jeans, and whispering. "Oh yes! I know it's wrong. I know we shouldn't. But it's been so long since anyone's wanted me this way!"

It was excuse enough, and she moaned as he kissed her mouth and her neck and his hands slid up and pushed the skimpy top out of the way and took possession of her breasts. Her moans and gasps of pleasure were probably the first genuine emotion she'd shown him all day, and it was sincere. His crudeness and impatience thrilled her and was just what she'd wanted and been aching for— that wild and desperate passion of youth. She loved being ravished and she loved teasing a man till he ravished her just like this, in this state of feverish need. She loved the roughness and near violence of a man's passion. It was something Roger could neither ever understand or perform.

But she was overwrought now herself, hotly excited by having played the whore and seductress all day, and she moaned into his mouth as she worked feverishly at the button on his jeans, while Cory attacked her breasts with greedy ferocity, squeezing and licking and sucking them, and she reveled in it. She'd always had a gorgeous rack and had never gotten this sort of appreciation from her husband, and now she gloried in men's consuming worship of her breasts. The boys especially always went for her tits and there was something deliciously Oedipal about their fixation that she found terribly exciting and thrilling, and she'd come to expect this kind of treatment from her young lovers. She moaned and pressed her head back against the wall so she could arch her back and push her tits into his mouth.

"Oh God, yes! Just like that, Cory! Yes! Just like that!"

He didn't stop devouring and kneading her breasts even when she finally got his jeans open and managed to push them down far enough to take that thick, meaty cock in her hand. He was gratifyingly big, just as she'd suspected, and his prick throbbed with youthful impatience and virility. He was alive and heavy, like a bar of lead encased in a thin velvet sheath that slid easily over his love muscle as she squeezed him and started a slow pump.

Cory's low moan excited her, and she increased the speed of her masturbation, priming him and bringing him along. She took his hair in her free hand and managed to pull him off her breast at last and up to her kiss, then guided his right hand down between her legs till he got the idea, moaning lasciviously into his mouth to encourage him as he began to rub her where she needed it most. He wasn't experienced. He fumbled so badly with the fastener on her shorts that she finally had to open it herself and then take his hand and push it down inside her thong. It wasn't an easy thing to do while pretending you're being seduced, but Clare pulled it off.

"Come with me, lover. Hurry!"

She pushed him away just enough that she could grab his wrist and lead him into the big bedroom with the A-frame ceiling and the panoramic view of the lake. It had been their bedroom when they'd first bought the place, but Roger had hardly gotten to use it, and she'd made sure it was her room now, throwing out his things or putting them in storage and buying new furniture to her own tastes—a big king-sized bed with a spotless white cover, matching white bedroom furniture, and antiques she'd bought in town, all carefully arranged and highlighted with perfect little splashes of color. She led Cory to the foot of the bed and turned him around so he was just where she wanted him, then kissed him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his mouth and then his chest, dragging her lips down over the taut ridges of his hard young stomach and farther still, lowering herself till she was on her knees and he was standing there, knowing what was coming and not quite believing it.

He wouldn't tell anyone, she'd decided, at most maybe a couple buddies. And even so, what if he did? She wouldn't mind getting a reputation among some of his young stud friends. And if she made it good enough, he probably wouldn't talk at all. He wouldn't want to tell his friends how this widow lady gave him the best sex of his young life.

She knelt before him and took his cock in her hand and stroked him, looking up at him subserviently and feeling it twitch with eagerness as he met her eyes. Cory gasped and stared down at her. Clare had put him right where she could see them both in the antique dressing mirror in the corner—her whore mirror, carefully and unobtrusively set up for just such occasions. She gave him a few preliminary wanks and glanced over to see the reflection of herself on her knees about to suck this young stud's cock, and felt a rush of raw, salacious heat at the sight of herself posed like a cheap and sleazy cock-hungry slut before him. She loved the sight of her own ripe, toned body in any situation, but even more she liked the sight of herself as a proper, respectable middle-aged woman and widow turned into a lewd and wanton whore.

She turned him just a little so she could get a better view without having to turn her head, then looked up into his eyes and opened her mouth and extended her tongue in invitation. She held his cock and licked it slowly, catlike, from shaft to tip, tasting his young sweat and musky male excitement, then licked him again just to hear his shuddering moan. Then she opened wide and slid him boldly into her mouth, humming with pleasure in a way she knew he'd feel in his balls.

Cory tried to control himself, but she heard him groan through his teeth and his prick jerked sharply in her mouth with a pre-orgasmic spasm, as if trying to come before all systems were up to speed. She took him slowly, languidly, savoring every throbbing vein and bump on that hard young meat as it slid over her tongue, savoring the thought that it would soon be pounding into her pussy and filling her with sweet, intrusive pleasure.

"Oh! Oh shitttt..." he moaned as Clare hollowed her cheeks and drew on him, sucking hard and slowly pulling her head back. She got to the head and licked it like a plum and then immediately dove on him again and repeated the action, and again, till she'd established a steady and regular rhythm. She wasn't one to go for teasing kisses and licks—not with a young lover like this—but got straight to the main course: getting him to the point where he was mad to fuck her, turning him into a ravening animal.

That's what she wanted. That's what she needed, and she reached around and grabbed his ass and used it to pull himself into her and then guide him, in and out, back and forth, sucking and moaning around his cock, rubbing the flat of her tongue against him and letting her saliva run freely down her chin as she breathed hard through her nostrils.

Look at that bitch in the mirror! Look at that dirty slut! Look at her on her knees, slobbering and slaving over a some stranger's prick, spit and cock juice running down her face, big tits bobbing back and forth as she sucks him off! Look how she loves it! What a shameless fucking whore! What a total cum-hungry cunt!

Cory was moaning constantly now, grunting as she pulled him into the wet suck of her mouth, back and forth, back and forth. Her lips got tied and she backed off till she had just the fat head in her like a fat cherry, took his shaft in her hand and started beating him off, lashing her tongue against that red and angry glans. Her other hand went down between her spread thighs, and she pushed it in with a muffled moan and started to masturbate fast and hard, slapping her hand into her wet pussy in a way she knew he'd hear and notice. She knew how to excite her lovers and she loved blowing them away with her slutty lewdness. She loved being the best fuck they ever had.