Trophy-wife Tabitha has suffered blackmail at the hands of her precocious step-daughter Sorrel for too long. Her husband’s part-time gardener Jared Morgan claims he can provide her with leverage to combat the girl. Jared being Jared, however, there’ll be a very specific brand of payment for his additional service. All Tabitha can do is wait for his progress report and his demands…
She would have driven all the way into Philly for the hell of it, but the equivalent of about three tequila shots had made their way into her system, so she parked the Maserati on the outskirts of Furlong and made her way into town. Her mind was awhirl with conjecture. What the hell had just happened?
She’d been talking to him, that was all—letting it all out because he was there, hot and vaguely sympathetic. Had she been a fool? Was this somehow going to sink another bite into her English ass? I wonder what he’s getting up to with her …
It would be better to put it out of her head, though this feat proved impossible. In a vain attempt she bought the new edition of Vogue and took it to Carluccio’s restaurant, but she was plagued there by thoughts of Daddy’s rotten angel pushing her perky wares in Jared’s face. It mingled with memories of that lascivious look on his face when he’d been talking to her.
The sexy bastard means to have us both … She spun spaghetti around her fork and tried to work out how she felt about the notion. For a brief moment, she’d believed that this guy was genuinely seeking to help her. In reality, he was one more horny opportunist, however deliciously sculpted. If she had read him at all well, however, he’d be good to his word. God, what a business on which to stake one’s powers of character judgment.
Having managed her way through lunch she went window-shopping, unable to take the usual comfort in consumerism via the credit card provided her by Grant. All joy had been robbed from the experience by the grand proclamations she’d made to Jared on the state of her life. He’ll think I’m such a spoilt girl. He’ll be right.
The afternoon crawled. She contemplated returning to the house, parking before she got to the drive and sneaking back in. Maybe she could surreptitiously observe what was going on, satiate her ravening curiosity with a good spying session on the two. Then again she might end up wrecking whatever subterfuge was being practised on pretty Sorrel.
Bottling her sense of intrigue she returned to Lovin’ Spoonful and scrolled through contacts in her cell phone, wondering which of the acquaintances from her married life were worth her time—and which of those from her single days ever thought of how she was doing.
Her eyes rested on Andrew’s name and she suffered a pang at the memory of his apology-laden departure. I didn’t mean to make trouble for you, he had texted soon after, and as if to make sure he didn’t, he had scarcely been in contact again. She hadn’t encouraged him; the memory was far too excruciating. Besides, she was sure in retrospect that there had been disappointment in his response to her that day, all passion aside.
“It’s quite something,” he had said, looking around at her exquisitely modern dwelling, but ‘you don’t really fit in here’ had been the subtext. She put away her phone and counted down the long minutes to when she could safely contact Jared.
On the dot of six, she tapped in his number, taking care to withhold her own, and called.
“Lady Tabitha, excellent timing.” The word which best described his voice, she thought, was ‘chipper’, like a guy who’d just got exceedingly lucky. “I gotta say, part of me thought I was over-selling my abilities, but I should never have doubted myself. It all worked out—as well as it damn well coulda.”
“Which means …”
“Which means among other things I’m one very happy boy right now.”
“I don’t doubt it.” So the blond pixie had given it up first chance she got. “But how exactly does that benefit me?”
“Tell me where you are and I’ll come explain.”
“I’ll look forward to that.” She gave him directions to the shop, signed off and waited, wondering how much he had to share and how he intended to use it. The sense of mystery was knotting her insides.
Within a quarter-hour he joined her, a frayed black t-shirt stretched over his upper body. It was the first time she had seen him covered above the waist. His jeans, she noticed, were splashed with water, presumably from his ablutions at the outdoor shower. Glances were being thrown his direction by other customers, either askance at his rough appearance or with salacious interest.
“Gotta love GPS,” he said with a grin, and he slapped his phone pocket. “I figured for years I couldn’t be bothered learning how to use that crap. Turns out I can find my way around a smartphone no problem, which has all kinds of benefits.” His tone was enigmatic. “Mind if I grab a coffee?”
“It’s on me,” she said, signalling to one of the waiting staff. It seemed the least she could do for someone endeavouring to help her, even if he had his own wicked price in mind. Once his Americano steamed in front of him, she leaned in, trying not to betray her heart-drumming excitement. “So—are you ready to share your fiendish plan? I’m not sure if I can take more of your riddles. What have you been getting up to with sweet Sorrel?”
He responded with the crooked smile of an experienced rogue. “Only everything she wanted—all she needed was the house to herself. Not that she’s shy about strutting near-naked with you there. But with the Mommy and Daddy-cats away, she was all good to play.”
“I’m not Mommy-cat,” Tabitha reminded him, grimacing over her latte. “Go on.”
“No—you’re really not,” he said with a laugh. “Anyway, a couple of margaritas from that jug you left helped things along—made her chattier than ever. Plus she wasn’t holding much back in her black beach number. Have you seen that one? There’s even less of it than yesterday’s pink.”
Tabitha had witnessed before how light on material the black bikini was. Grant had banned Sorrel from wearing it about the garden, when he was around. “Cut to the chase,” she said.
“Well she was covered in sun lotion and I was covered in dirt and, well, share a shower and save water, right?”
“Indoor shower or outdoor?”
“Outdoor. Much more fun.”
“And how… lacking in clothes were these ablutions?”
“As lacking as ablutions get.”
“God. I hope the neighbours didn’t have their elevated spy-cams out. And might I ask who suggested this shared arrangement?”
“She did of course. She fetched lemon-scented shower-gel from the bathroom—that’s how keen she was. Do I smell of lemons to you?”
“Faintly.” Tabitha smiled. She was imagining Jared getting naked and nasty with Sorrel in the sunlight and the image was making her more excited than jealous. What do you look like with everything off? The Princess has already had a good look it seems. “So,” she said, having to clear her throat before she could manage anything further, “tell me the rest of this story. And more to the point tell me why I should be interested.”
“Tell you? I’ll show you once I’ve finished this coffee.”
He smiled and drank. “Yup, and not here—in the van. Some things shouldn’t be shared in public.”
The vehicle he had been lent by his cousin was parked around the block from Lovin’ Spoonful. “We haven’t got long,” he explained, helping her inside like he was a gentleman. “Should be pickin’ up Larry shortly, so let me share the show with you.” She settled beside him within the van’s confines and looked on with a quickening pulse as he whipped out his temporary smart-phone.
“She let you film her? On your phone?” Tabitha hadn’t marked Sorrel down as being quite that stupid.
“No, on hers. I made her show me how—she figured I was clueless how to use the damn things. No idea I knew how to send files phone to phone.” His finger was spinning around the face-plate, opening up videos. “I told her she should see how fuckin’ sexy she looked and acted all eager for her like a puppy. She didn’t take much convincing to let me film this …”
Tabitha gasped with laughter at the image popping onto the screen. “Oh my God …” Sorrel’s bikini was as minuscule as she remembered it—plump breasts straining against tiny triangles of black material, thong plunging past her hips into a matching V at her crotch. The girl was basically on curvy display aside from nipples and clean-waxed pussy.
More than that, she was dancing in the garden shower for her film-maker, a toothy smile almost splitting her face as jets bounced off her body from three different angles. Her hands were tugging at the elasticated swim-bottoms, pulling them upwards and waggling the band of fabric so that it tucked tight into her crotch.
“You like that?” she taunted, before turning around and swaying her tight wet buttocks for him, the thong-strand vanishing between them as she tugged.
“You been teasing me with that hot little booty for days, you naughty girl,” the cameraman’s voice said.
“Oh, have I gone and got you all excited?” She turned and grinned at him some more. “Poor baby, sweating away in that hole and nothing to be done about it.”
“Stuck in one hole, thinking of another.”
Sorrel’s eyes widened. “You’re so dirty!”
“I’m dirty as fuck, girl, but I’m guessing you already knew that. Only question is—does this dirty boy get a reward for all the hard work and frustration he’s been put through?”
“Maybe… What reward would he like?” Sorrel was sweeping back her wetted blond hair and continuing her circular booty-shake, feet squelching in the grass.
“Well to start with, why don’t we stop pretending that bikini covers anything and get rid of it?”
“You wanna see it all?” She licked her lips, her eye-line straying well below the phone-cam. “You first. I wanna see too.”
“Not a problem.”
There was the sound of unzipping, the camera operator clearly working one-handed. Sorrel’s expression went from expectation to staring astonishment. “Oh my God. Look at you—you’re huge!”
“I get that a lot,” Jared told Tabitha, his voice almost apologetic. She stifled a laugh and continued to stare at the screen, wondering how big a cock it would take to impress her slutty step-daughter.
Sorrel had stalled in her dance moves and was watching transfixed at whatever Jared’s hand was doing. “Holy hell, get naked and get in here now,” she said. “I wanna wash – you – down!”
“I showed you mine,” the movie’s director said. “You know how this goes.”
Sorrel unfastened her bikini at the top and whipped it free of her upper body. Then she turned, thrust out her ass and peeled the thong from her bare pussy-lips, stepping out and slinging the item away. She bit her finger and lifted her leg, crossing one thigh over the other in a coy water-baby pose at odds with her butt-naked boldness. Her gaze hadn’t strayed from what had originally made her gasp. “What you waiting for, big boy? Quit your movie-making and come get scrubbed down. I wanna get my hands on that beautiful cock.”
Jared paused the video and Tabitha stared speechless at the still image.
“After that, I soaped that hot little body all over and she soaped me back very thoroughly. Worked up a lot of bubbles. Tiny hands show a guy off to best advantage.”
“No doubt,” Tabitha said, rushing in before her imagination could get too carried away, “but I hardly need to hear all the details.”
“Would you like to see more detail?” Jared inquired.
“There’s more? Well… yes.” It made sense that she should watch all the footage available, have a full idea of what she had to work with. When he unpaused the action, however, it cut to a view that made her suck in breath audibly.
The camera phone was staring down on the soaking-wet Sorrel. She was naked and kneeling on the grass beneath the arching pipes of the now turned-off shower. Her hands were attempting to wrap themselves around the biggest cock-shaft Tabitha had ever seen, while her lips were stretched around the end, cheeks hollow as she sucked. The blonde’s mascara-primped eyes were huge and focused, staring into the camera with ‘check-me-out’ audacity.
“C’mon, baby, don’t be shy, take it on,” Jared’s voice encouraged the daughter of his current employer. She massaged his wet dick with both hands, tongue lapping and flicking the bulbous end, before she captured it with her mouth and sucked once more. Her pink lips spread far around him and she let go with one hand so she could take more of him inside, making succulent moans of enjoyment as she did. She bobbed her head, slowly at first, then with increasing vigour, till she was rolling on him in a steady circular motion, her hand pumping accompaniment at the base.
“Fuck, yes, you really know how to suck a guy’s cock. Show me what you can do, you hot little slut.” The sense of pleasure in Jared’s growled obscenities along with the explicit visual had Tabitha’s pussy soaking her panties. She gazed in awe at Sorrel’s greedy blow-job, acutely aware of its recipient seated next to her. No doubt he was enjoying her reaction immensely. By the time the ‘little slut’ (no argument there) was guzzling Jared into the back of her throat and coming off him again to lick up the mess of spit from his dripping shaft, Tabitha was covering up her limp-jawed amazement with her hand.
“I have a colourful turn of phrase when I’m in the middle of things,” Jared explained to her. “Don’t mind me.”
The on-screen activity got worse, or better, depending on who might be viewing it back. The next jump-cut had Sorrel in close-up, her face a wide-mouthed mask of pleasure and duress. She was being fucked on one of the sun loungers and soundly so, if its creak and her cries were anything by which to judge.
“That’s it, let’s go deep,” her lover said, like at that moment she had a say in the matter. “How about you take it right to the balls?” She took it for sure, wailing her response to the camera as the shafting, her step-mother assumed, plumbed new depths inside her.
Tabitha imagined taking what she had seen in the previous shot so very deep inside herself. Delight at Sorrel’s debauching on film was mingling with envy at the intensity of the fuck the girl was enjoying. Sweat was bathing the young Miss Chesterfield’s face, her eyes overcome with delirium, tits jogging at every thrust. The pretty rich girl taking it hard from the filthy-minded gardener and putting it all out there on film. Sorrel, you silly slut …
There was one more shot to enjoy (and Tabitha was taken aback by how much she was enjoying the movie interlude). Sorrel was now turned over on the lounger, clinging to its frame while she was rammed from behind. Her bum-cheeks were quaking, the rest of her body jolting harshly, as she took the full force of Jared’s pleasure. “That’s it, girl,” his voice was grating, “now we’re there, now we’re havin’ us some serious fun.”
“I can’t help giving a commentary,” he told Tabitha with a shrug. “It’s a habit.”
“I noticed.” Tabitha continued to be transfixed, chiefly by the stoutness of the pole pumping in and out of Sorrel’s stretched pussy, but she also wondered at the man behind the cock. “Maybe it’s the boy in you—he still can’t believe how lucky he’s getting and he has to remind himself it’s really happening.”
“Maybe that’s it. Beats pinching myself.”
They watched together, Jared’s hand reaching out onscreen to grab a fistful of Sorrel’s wet hair. He pulled her up so that her back arched, his now obscured cock still ravishing her down below. “Goddamn, sweetheart, this is how to round off the workin’ day!”
The image froze, of its own accord this time. “And that’s the moment,” Jared said, the look of a serious artisan on his face, “that I had to work out how to send a file from her phone to my phone while still fucking her. No simple feat, lemme tell you.”
“I believe you. It’s impressive work.”
“Luckily I can go a while and she was too busy coming all over my cock to know I was doin’ anything but shafting the shit out of her.”
Good God. “You weren’t lying about that colourful turn of phrase.” Tabitha could not help but wonder what choice sentiments he might express if she let him have his way with her.
“Plus,” he said, “I make a damn fine home movie, don’t ya think?”
“Unquestionably.” Her hand had been straying subconsciously to his phone, loaded as the device was with its compromising footage. Jared, however, whisked it away from her and pocketed the device.
“That,” he reminded her, “you have to earn.”
“You could just send it to me.” Lust for him vied with anger at all his exploitative manoeuvring.
“A man’s gotta have his price, surely you can see that, Lady T.” He was all cockiness as he looked her over and the same desire was in his voice as she’d heard on the video. In a flash of pride and vanity she wondered could she get him more excited than the little blonde tart had succeeded in doing.
“I suppose I can,” she said, her breath catching. “How do I know I can trust you to deliver?”
“I got no reason not to, once I’ve received payment.” He was searching her eyes for a response when he used the final word. “Look, whatever else my interest here, I don’t much like the idea of her having a hold over you. It’d give me satisfaction to set things straight. But…” The wickedness returned to his eyes. “… I still want that other satisfaction first.”
Tabitha looked at him in a kind of awe—riled and manipulated, but with a craving for what was bulging within those jeans. “Where did you have in mind?”
“But wouldn’t it be easier to get a room somewhere? I could …”
“Your place or nowhere.” There was a coolness now to his stare that caused a tremor in her lower belly.
“This is about ego then, is it? You like the thought of fucking a man’s daughter and his wife in his own home?”
“Not always,” he said, having considered a moment. “But from what little I know of your husband… yeah. In this case, it appeals to me a lot.”
“My God, you are a bastard,” she said, unable to keep her face from creasing into a smile or her heart from forfeiting a beat. “You’re an unspeakable shit. So we’re talking about tomorrow then?”
“My last day on the job,” he replied. “And in all honesty, I’m nearly done in the garden. Tomorrow’d be perfect.”
“What about Sorrel? She comes and she goes. There’s no knowing when she …”
“Leave that to me. I have a plan for getting her out of the way. Your husband’ll be gone, it’ll be just you and me and a big-ass house to play in. Play all the games we like.”
He had such confidence in himself—but thus far it had proved completely warranted. And she’d wanted to play games with him even before he’d produced a Sorrel Chesterfield sex-video with which to bargain.
“Tomorrow it is,” she said.
Tabitha woke around nine, after Grant had left to catch his flight. She preferred to be alone in the bed, now that sharing had become so cold. Besides, with her husband gone she could indulge the thoughts that had plagued her with their sexiness all night. Her hand plucked up her t-shirt and slithered down the front of her panties, as she gave herself up to images of the sweaty landscaper exacting his price.
For long blissful minutes, her middle finger rotated on her wet clitoris, fantasies of shower-time with a wet soapy bad-boy clouding out the room around her. Soon Jared would make it all reality. Her finger stopped moving and withdrew; how much more exciting to save up her orgasm for him. Her first orgasm, that was…
When she opened the bedroom curtains he was already in the garden hard at work. She played voyeur, wetting her upper lip as she enjoyed his slicing into turf around the garden’s perimeter with some kind of sharp-ended spade tailored to the task. The May heatwave had continued and even from this distance, his back was slick with sweat as he braced and strained. That’s it. Finish off that task and move on to the other one. I want you to take your full payment.
Music was permeating down the hallway from Sorrel’s room, her step-daughter’s voice singing along. The brat had been in a strikingly upbeat mood that previous evening, like some lusty mud-encrusted bastard had provided her with the ravishing of her life. Tabitha groaned inwardly, wondering how the hell Jared intended to remove her from the house with no chance of the precocious madam returning at some inopportune moment.
She wanted a proper sense of security when she got naked with him. You’d better be as clever as you think you are, Mr. Rock-and-Roll… But he hadn’t let her down so far, had he? The thought sustained her as she soaped her long-limbed body and washed her dark-brunette hair in the shower cubicle. She was getting clean before getting dirty, imagining his rugged palms grabbing and cupping and sliding. Damn, she needed this man to herself.
Had Sorrel not been around, Tabitha would have decked herself out in hot red lingerie and nothing else. Instead, she opted to cover up the scant lacy bits with a filmy summer dress no different from what she’d wear if there were no raunchy sex in prospect. When finally she ventured out of her bedroom, however, the music had stopped and there was no hint of the girl’s presence anywhere, upstairs or down.
Jared was all bulging brawn as she approached him from across the lawn bearing iced tea; his shoulders and back were a deeper brown from the sun that had been hammering down on him that past week. “How’s it going?” she inquired, glancing back to the patio to check whether Sorrel was standing there, fixing her step-mom with an accusatory stare.
He stood up tall from his work, openly admiring how the gauzy rose-print clung to the slopes of her breasts. “You mean am I ready to move on to you?”
God, this guy believed in frankness. “You know that’s what I mean,” she answered, as fearlessly as she could fake.
He took the drink from her and downed it in one, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “Thanks. Don’t wanna dehydrate with all that extra sweating I’ll be doing today. I’ll be done in ten—the whole damn job. So I suggest…” He handed her back the glass. “… That you go run us a nice bath in whatever swanky bathroom you got upstairs. I feel like a good soak to round off the week. Time you get back I’ll be all finished up here.”
Run us a nice bath… Tabitha’s nipples tightened against the lace of her brassiere from how real this was suddenly becoming.
“And my precious step-daughter—she’s gone out?”
“Oh, she won’t be back, not for a long time.” He said it with absolute conviction.
“You know this because …”
“Don’t worry about how. She won’t be interrupting us any time soon, that’s all you need to know. We got this place to ourselves.”
How good did that sound? Tabitha found she didn’t care where the hell Sorrel had gone or why.
“Okay—you’re the boss now, it seems.”
“Sounds about right.” His crooked grin and the blazing intent in his blue eyes made her cream the crotch of her panties where she stood. Unable to speak another word she spun around in her flat shoes and walked back to the house. She didn’t doubt he was staring after her as the dress flounced around her thighs.
The Chesterfield bathroom was near-palatial, the bath a great white marble square with the oval tub set into its ornate centre. Tabitha set the hot and cold taps running, scattering a handful of bamboo and teak bath crystals and pouring in a generous amount of cucumber bubble bath.
No fragrance too feminine, since she’d soon be sharing it with a great strapping guy and a stranger at that. She swirled the rising waters with her hand, the scents mingling in her nostrils as great foam castles built themselves in readiness. A lukewarm bath for that hot early-summer day. Nothing else promised to be lukewarm, not with Jared joining her there.
Ten minutes had elapsed for sure by the time the tub was filled, but the gardener had not yet graced her with his wicked presence. Nervous and impatient she returned downstairs and into the back garden, in time to see him cast aside his spade.
“All done,” he announced as she wandered up to him, moistening dry lips with her tongue. “And the rest of Friday my own to spend how I please. I think you know by now, Tabitha, how I please.”
“I know how you please yourself,” she said, heart beating apace as she stared at him, perspiring there in his tight jeans and trainers. “I saw it in your little movie. How good are you at pleasing others?”
“Young Sorrel was plenty happy with how things turned out,” he reminded her.
True, there’d been no doubt on that front. “You were muddier for her,” she said, pouting. All the really dirty work had been completed, the earth from the coy pond pit having been carried off to the last barrowful. “You look positively clean today.”
“So you’re not slumming it enough, Lady T? Let me help with that.” He strode over to the wide rectangular hole he had dug in the middle of the lawn and stepped in. Scooping earth from where it was shadowed and moist he smeared it over his glistening chest and stomach till once again he was properly muddied. Tabitha could only laugh in surprise. “You know how fuckin’ filthy I am,” he said, climbing from the pit and sauntering over in his mired glory. “But maybe rich girls like a visual reminder.”
“We surely do,” she breathed, gaze fixed on his mire-streaked pectorals. “God, now you’re going to get mud everywhere before we even get to the bath.”
“Better shower first then,” he said, strolling past her. “Lucky your step-daughter left some of that lemon gel lyin’ around.”
Tabitha stared after him, his intention registering. Outdoor nude cavorting might come easily to a little tramp like Sorrel, not quite so easily to a middle-class girl from Surrey in England. On the other hand, she didn’t want to get earth all over the house and she had kind of instigated Jared’s actions. Heart properly thumping now, she pursued the cocky bastard. He was standing at the shower arch, hopping on one foot at a time in order to tear off his trainers, after which he set about the fastenings at the front of his jeans. Oh my God, he’s just going to…
He did, without a heartbeat’s pause. As she watched, Jared peeled the denim from his ass—his hard muscular ass—and stepped out. He flicked the handle on one side of the shower frame and jets exploded from both sides as well as above. “Now I’m guessing,” he said, turning around so that Tabitha got a full-frontal blast of his nakedness, burgeoning erection included, “that you wanted this shit spread all over me so you could wash it off. So, lose those pretty clothes now and get to work.”
A breath-stealing shyness had come upon Tabitha, though not so much that she looked away from Jared. Her gaze stayed on his tight-muscled frame and on the phallus that was swelling to full strength as he palmed it. Sweet Jesus, Sorrel hadn’t been over-reacting. That cock-size was no trick of the camera. “Maybe a girl simply wants to watch,” she said, trying to mask coyness with cheek.
“A girl needs to remember the stakes she’s playin’ for and get naked,” he told her, his tone unflinching. “She needs to get butt-naked right now.”
God, he sounded like he might advance on her with his cock rearing, and rip the dress clean from her body if she did not quickly obey. Her fingers hurried to the back of her dress to unzip. The grass was lush and unmuddied where she stood, and she let the rose-patterned chiffon fall away onto it. Then she stood in the strapless bra that cupped her breasts and its matching lace thong, thanking God for the trees that secluded in the garden.
Jared’s voice brooked no hesitation. “Nice start, sweetheart. Now lose those dainty bits and pieces and get that elegant butt in here with me. I’m employin’ your ass now and don’t you forget it.”
“Unlikely,” she said, kicking off her shoes. God, she was effectively hooking herself out to him for those images he had. Funny how the thought did nothing to deter her… After a deep breath, she unclipped her bra and let it fall away from her tits so he could see how hard her nipples had already grown. Then adopting his frankness she eased her sodden knickers away from her hips and stepped into nakedness.
Me and Sorrel, she thought. Almost like a contest. The buxom sweetheart barely out of her teens and the grown woman, long-limbed with curves more subtle—her pubic hair shaved to a neat arrow. I hope he likes me better …
Bare as Eve, she strolled towards her big-cocked blue-collar Adam. He had positioned himself slightly forward of the jets so that dirt still smeared him. “There it is,” he said, indicating the gel bottle that he or Sorrel had let fall on the grass around eighteen hours before.
“Are you going to be a gentleman and pick it up?”
“No—I’m going to be a bastard and stare at your ass while you pick it up.”
What could she say? This guy, so much taller and bulkier than her, held all the cards—that metaphor again—and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Besides, she knew she had a killer ass. “Of course. Seems like it’s ‘anything you say’ day.”
“My favourite day of the week,” Jared said, waiting.
She turned away from him and bent down, making sure despite the alarming proximity of his huge phallus that he got the best possible view. ‘Don’t drop the soap’ gags filled her mind as she stretched her gym-toned buttocks tight for him, letting the lips of her shaved pussy peek through. She hoped he was stroking his length as he fixated on her globed cheeks. Having dared to hold the moment, she picked up the half-full plastic bottle and arose, unimpaled.
“That was one superb fuckin’ view,” he told her, his palm sliding back and forth leisurely on his cock.
“I’m very glad you think so.” It was gratifying that her ass had scored such a result. “Okay,” she said, popping the cap and oozing lemony gel all over his upper chest. “Let’s get you scrubbed up, Jared.” She took him by the hand and led him under the arch with its triple-spray—a waterfall from above, while two fountains pelted their backs. The bottle she tossed aside for later.
Reaching out two-handed she palmed the broad expanse of his chest, watching the gel foam up under her touch. She smoothed away the grime, cleansing him of mud till her hands were slithering on his hard, soaked pectorals. Then she shifted side-on, one hand moving downwards in slow circles till it was gliding on the ribbed muscle of his belly, his cock bobbing an inch from the back of her hand. “There,” she said. “That was easy.”
“And very pleasant. Do the rest.”
Tabitha liked how demanding he was, but wondered how much control she could wrestle from him through the right kind of pampering. Kneeling down she grabbed the bottle, diverting her eyes from that part of him that she knew would have her attention last. It took a lot of ignoring. She arose and attended to his neck and shoulders first, standing tiptoe behind him and massaging the soap into those tight trapezius muscles.
“Wet naked massage – I like it,” he said, and she brushed her hard nipples against his back to accentuate his pleasure. His upper arms were bulged and sinewy from his physical endeavours and she squeezed and moulded, loving the sense of their latent strength under her palms.
“You’ve been working so hard,” she told him. “I’d never thought about it before, that sheer exertion, all the energy someone like you burns. How you build yourself up through … through hard industry and nothing else.” She relocated her palms on his back as she spoke, moving them in slippery circuits over those broad shelves of muscle. “Grant, my husband, he wears silk suits to work. He only exercises in the gym—or at least he used to. He’s never done the work you do. Real, manly effort. You’ve made me respect that kind of work now.” A soapy stream channelled down the ravine of his spine, trickling between his hardened buttocks. “I like what you’ve made of yourself—I find it incredibly attractive.”
She meant more than his physical appearance, but there was something undeniably glorious about his naked form—sunlit and wet in the garden as it was, like a great phallic statue soaked by a fountain. The sculptress in her was awakening again as she ran hands over him, and she dropped to her knees to caress the contours of his ass and the shapely brawn of his legs under her palms.
Nature had formed these staunch thighs, the perfect curves of that muscular ass—albeit with the aid of hard and relentless manual labour. What exquisite work it was. This was what human artists sought to celebrate in stone—a kind of perfection. And then there was the part of him in which nature had particularly excelled… Tabitha soaped up her hands thoroughly before wrapping the first of them around the shaft of Jared’s cock.
She kneeled at his feet, her knees squelching into the grass, observing the progress of her hand as it stroked up and down that unyielding length. He was shaved close and it served to emphasise his massiveness—that great tower thrusting outward from balls that hung heavy with God knew how much seed. His phallic strength only grew under influence of her palm and he swelled marble-hard, every vein on his surface embossing the surface. “It’s a work of art…” She’d breathed the words and hoped they were obscured from his hearing under the patter of the water.
No matter. Entranced she stared at the progress of her frothing fingers around him, her other hand gliding up his thigh to cup and caress his sac. What a wonderful thing—that this manual labourer, this everyday working guy who thrashed a guitar in seedy bars, should be blessed with a cock fit for a Greek god, and that she should get to lather every inch of it in her husband’s back garden.
She had a sudden inner flash of how she must look—the once-dutiful millionaire’s wife worshipping the hard dick of the gardener her husband had employed, with nothing to mask her adultery but a haze of water. The thought only boosted her arousal and she seized his shaft with both hands, wrapping them as far around as they would go, treating him to a full, slithering massage.
“How does that feel?” Something inside her needed acknowledgement.
“Very nice,” he replied, more gravel in his voice than there’d been before. “Turns out this rich girl knows how to get hands-on.”
“Does that surprise you?” She aimed his cock directly into one of the jets so that it was rinsed of all foam. “My husband may employ help, but I still know how to do a thorough cleaning job.”
“So I see.” Tabitha made to rise, intending to kiss him, but his hand on her soaked head kept her in place. “Clean some more.” He brought his cock to her so that its stoutly helmeted head brushed her mouth. This was a treat she’d considered withholding for a while. So much for calling the shots…
Memories of Sorrel lavishing oral favours on this dick flashed in Tabitha’s mind as she parted her lips wide and took Jared inside her mouth. God, it was a stretch. She imagined she wore the same look of surprise on her face as her step-daughter had done, lips forced into a wide circle around this demanding erection; attempting to distinguish herself from the wretched girl, she softened her gaze to a smoulder and commenced to suck slowly on the head.
He needn’t think her some kind of novice. This cocky seducer was dealing with an experienced fellatrix, even if her skills were rusty. Reaching her fingers around the base of his shaft she guzzled in a steady rhythm and writhed her tongue against his underside.
None of your desperate-to-please teenage gobbling, this guy was going to experience the real deal. Tabitha withdrew smoothly, lingering on that point beneath the hood that had proved to be Grant’s sweet spot years before. She flickered her extended tongue, staring up to catch Jared’s reaction. He was statue-still, eyes alert with sensation and fingertips still resting on her hair. Heartened, she sustained the moment, eventually sliding up to catch the salty jewel that had welled from his tip. She smiled in vindication of her technique, not even breaking contact before she enveloped his head in her mouth once more and gave him the slow succulent treatment.
He was all hers as she bathed him slowly with her mouth—utterly motionless as she slithered the blade of her tongue down his shaft and swirled the whole flexing muscle around his sac. There was scarcely a stir from his rigid body when she washed him one ball at a time, just that sense of him stiffening from head to toe when she searched between his legs, teasing his perineum with soft licks of her tongue-tip. Her progress back to the top was a long slather like she was catching drips from a popsicle. By the time she made it to the top he was ready, she figured, to receive an even more delicious gift. But at a price of her own.
“Indulge me on something,” she said, holding his glans against her cheek.
“Let’s hear it.”
She reached up with the gel bottle. “Let me see you wash that hair while I suck your cock.”
“God, we’re in a fuckin’ romance novel now,” he said, taking the bottle nonetheless and tugging out the band of his ponytail. His hair fell wet about his shoulders. “Whatever you say, m’Lady.”
Tabitha doubted the last part, but he provided her with her fantasy nonetheless, squirting the remainder of the gel into his hands and massaging it into his thick locks. She stared up as held his head back, armed stretched behind to soap himself and chest thrust out like he was already coming for her. How beautiful could a day get?
With her gaze set on his naked form, she set about fulfilling her part of the bargain. More intrepid now, she wolfed inches of him inside. She sucked him slowly and luxuriously, caressing his cock and savouring its taste. His face was a mask of pleasure as he caught up all his hair and worked the gel deep into its tresses. Now she could see the rock-star—arrogant and gorgeous, revelling in narcissistic delight as he was pleasured by a fan.
Damn—she’d never heard him play so much as a chord, but she’d be this guy’s fan for life once he’d delivered on his promise. Gripping the upper swell of his buttocks, she gave him the best her mouth had to offer. Foam spilled all down his body as he rinsed out his locks, and she mouth-fucked him all the more insistently in response to the beautiful sight.
“God, Lady Tabitha,” he virtually groaned, “you suck cock better than a kitchen maid. And I’ve had some hot kitchen maids in my time, lemme tell you …”
Her mouth might have been preoccupied, but inside she was smiling like the Cheshire Cat. This is how you please a real man, Sorrel sweetie. You’ve still got a lot to …
Without warning, Jared gripped her head and plunged her down to the root of his dick so that he filled her throat. “See how fuckin’ riled up you get me?” Her hands clutched his hips and he held her there with her chin crushed to his balls. “See how much you fuckin’ turn me on? How much I want my dick rammed inside you any way I can get it there?” He was making it fairly damn clear. Tabitha’s heart raced, fingers still pressing against his groin, her mind overwhelmed by the amount of cock-flesh stuffed down her throat.
Jared pulled her off and she sucked her lungs full of air again, the spit from her lips matching that drooling from the cock she had just throated. She’d scarcely caught her breath when his cock dived in a second time, cramming her full all over again. Bastard! On this round, he gripped the back of her head with both hands and shoved her back and forth so that her throat took a full-on shafting from his cock, complete with gurgling sound-effects. She’d fucked him with her mouth and now her mouth was taking it in return. The clear message—she could play the temptress all she liked, but at any moment he could turn the tables.
There was an amused savagery on his face when finally he relented in his harsh attentions and freed her airway. “Sorry, baby,” he said, stroking her hair and strumming her lips with his thumb. “I couldn’t resist.”
“You’re not sorry, you fucker,” she panted, his smile doing nothing to assuage her anger.
“No—guess I’m not. You got me there, sweetheart. Come here.” With minimum assistance from her, he pulled her to her feet and grappled her body close to his. The insistence of his hard bulk against her softness undermined her attempt to remain pissed off. “I’ll be honest, Tabitha, I had you down as one more spoilt rich-bitch. But I was wrong. There’s more to you than that. A whole lot more.”
His mouth found hers and she capitulated to him instantly. The last of her irritation dissolved under the insistence of his lips and tenderness of his tongue. He grasped her, hands firm on the small of her back and on her ass, pulling her tight as he took possession of her with his kiss. He was caressing her like a lover, like someone who had known her for years, not for a couple of days.
How could the fucking scoundrel do this—make any kiss Grant Chesterfield had ever given her, seem remote and cold? His lips remained locked hard but not harsh on hers, while their mouths undulated together, his tongue tantalizing hers. She lost herself in it, aware of nothing beyond the connection of their mouths and his hands upon her … and the pressure of that great hard slab against her belly. When they broke apart she felt as robbed of breath as when he had fucked her throat. Holy hell. Only a total shit could do things to her so nasty and nice in such close succession.
“You really don’t deserve to have me take you upstairs for that cooling bath,” she said, looking into eyes that were warm with amusement.
“I get a lot of things I don’t deserve. Is the bath gonna be one of them?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Yes. Yes, it most certainly is.”
“Then lead on.”
Recklessness in his presence swelled up from within her once more. Switching off the shower, she reached behind and took him by the cock, her thumb sliding beneath the knobbed end for a good grip. “This way, Jared darling, you get to watch my ass the whole distance.”
“I’ll make a point of it.” He grabbed for his jeans as she led him off and she looked back at him raising an eyebrow.
“You really won’t be needing those.”
“Phone’s in the pocket. Larry likes to keep in touch so he can have regular updates on my work.”
“I’m sure you’d love to update him on this.”
“This part I’ll keep to myself, baby.” Tabitha figured he would.
There was a curious satisfaction in leading the gardener by his beautiful throbbing dick all through the house—the one she had ceased truly to share with her husband. Its potted palms and works of art and its sleek white-walled beauty were all Grant’s in any sense that mattered.
Well, she was showing off her lover to it all in his butt-nude glory. And I’m going to fuck him too, screaming so loud it’ll bounce off every wall in the house. Gone was the Tabitha whose garden striptease had been so tentative. She was Lady Tabitha for real now, despite all this man’s gentle mockery, and she was going to prove it to him.
To be continued…