Inside the Garden Shed Ch. 01

Chapter 1 - The mystery of the handkerchief

The story so far (from the story, 'The Garden Shed.'):

Gary, a middle aged divorcee, has taken to nudity in his garden - a very private garden - but hearing a noise and finding a handkerchief with the letter 'Z' embroidered upon it in his garden shed has made him suspicious that his garden is not nearly as private as he thought it to be. Has someone been watching his naked gardening or, rather worse, his private sun lit masturbation and seeing his, unfortunately, rather stubby but very thick cock ejaculate?

Did the handkerchief belong to Zara, the blond long legged teen from down the road or perhaps dark little chubby Zoe from next door? Gary's thought was that probably the true story was the cat, Marmalade, had brought it into the shed. Really he could not see a schoolgirl or young married women being in the slightest bit interested in his naked body or what he chose to do with his cock in the hot sunshine. But it was certainly a pleasant daydream!

The story continues:

Having washed and ironed the little handkerchief he had actually asked Zoe if it was hers. It had been at a small party for neighbours around at her house and he had casually asked Zoe - casual because he had been very interested in her reaction - whether it was her handkerchief.

"No, not mine; pretty though. Where'd you find it?"

"In my shed actually."

"Funny place to find a handkerchief - in a garden shed"

"I suppose Marmalade found it somewhere and carried it there."

"Sounds more a dog thing. Stupid cat; the other day..."

Zoe went on to tell a bit of what the cat had been doing. Gary had, though, quietly slipped into the conversation that perhaps the handkerchief was Zara's and Zoe had said she was going across to her house and would ask if it was.

A few days later Zoe had called round. Called round via the front door which was just as well given Gary had been wandering around his garden with not a stitch on and a less than flaccid penis to boot! It did not bear thinking about had Zoe had wandered through the gate at the bottom of the garden and caught him with his hoe in his hand. He was dressed by the time he answered the door.

Gary had invited Zoe in for a cup of coffee and they had sat in his garden in the hot summer sunshine. The conversation moved around to the purpose of the visit.

No, the handkerchief seemed not to be Zara's after all. But Zoe said she was puzzled. It was almost as if Zara recognised it but when Zoe had said where it had been found she had blushed as if it was hers and that she had actually been in the shed: but had assured Zoe it was not hers. Zoe found it peculiar.

"Why would Zara have been in your shed?" Zoe seemed to be moving into detective mode.

It was Gary's turn to blush or at least he thought he might be colouring, "No idea. It's just an ordinary garden shed. Nothing special."

Zoe had stared down the garden at the shed. "Nothing missing? Though I hardly think Zara would have much need for a fork or fertiliser!"

"No, nothing."

Zoe was in full detection mode and walked down the garden to look in the shed. Gary followed a little reluctantly. He was not really sure he wanted Zoe looking in his shed. It was hot in there as they stood inside the shed with Zoe looking back down the garden through the window and Gary feeling just a little uncomfortable remembering how a few days before he had been sitting naked in his wooden chair, the one Zoe had her hand upon, as his stumpy penis had spewed its cum all over him whilst he thought of both Zoe and Zara's naked tits. Gary could not resist a sidelong look right down Zoe's blouse. Her attention was on the garden and, leaning on the chair's back, her blouse had come a little way away from her body and enough for him to peek right down her cleavage and see the shape of her breasts, ample and mounded, enclosed by her bra. Gary's stumpy cock stirred in his shorts.

"Perhaps you have a secret admirer!" It shocked Gary for a moment, the idea was so near his daydream, but he joined Zoe's laughter.

"Very likely. I have to fight off eighteen year old lassies most days! It's a problem I have."

"Phew, hot in here. Makes you sweat. An earthy smell of fertiliser. Nice shed - as sheds go!"

Gary followed Zoe out but not before the idea of them both trapped in the shed had come to him; trapped in the shed getting hotter and hotter, sweatier and sweatier until they both simply had to take their clothes off even as Gary's stumpy cock had risen to erection. "I'm sorry, Gary, I've simply got to strip." And both slippery with sweat what should they do? Intercourse all wet, hot and slippery whilst standing up in the shed of course! Something to dwell upon later.

Gary was acutely conscious, as he followed Zoe back up the garden, that he had an erection in his shorts -- he hoped it was not obvious - and watching Zoe's bottom cheeks moving up and down, first one and then the other in quick succession, as she walked ahead of him in her tight blue jeans did not help matters at all. He would not half have liked to have undone the jeans. How much better she would look without them; and without panties of course. He could imagine watching her naked bottom under the hem of her blouse; clearly an ample bottom and when she turned... Would she be all dark curls or were they trimmed or even dispensed with? It was something to ponder upon!

With Zoe gone, Gary dropped his clothes and walked back out into his garden feeling a little cooler. Staring down the garden he could not help thinking of Zara. Had she really been watching him from his shed that day; perhaps was even watching him now. Could she really have got a thrill seeing him naked and his stumpy erection bobbing around? Had she perhaps even seen him ejaculate? He had done that more than once in the garden in full sight of the shed window.

Slowly Gary walked up his garden with his erection at full height - for him. Not only did he really like walking around like that but he was thinking about Zara; imagining her watching him from the shed; perhaps even with hand between her legs - the legs of her school uniform; watching him coming closer; unsure whether he was simply walking around his garden or actually coming to the shed. A decision whether to run or stay.

What if Gary caught her - suddenly nipped round and opened the door and there she was? Wouldn't she be shocked; wouldn't she be embarrassed but wouldn't she be caught good and proper! Gary imagined himself making no attempt to cover his erection, enjoying the exposure to the young girl: though perhaps to describe the short stumpy thing as 'standing proud' would be an overstatement.

"Zara! What on Earth are you doing here - in my shed?"

There could be but one answer and he would make sure she gave it - being a peeping Tom; and why - it gave her sexual pleasure; and what should the punishment be? Tom knew that - and so would she: a good spanking!

An assurance he wouldn't fuck her but there had to be a proper punishment for peeping. There could be no alternative.

Gary sat in his chair and imagined bending Zara over his knee, the woollen material of her skirt touching his erection, perhaps she might be quietly weeping as he raised her skirt to reveal a panty less naked bottom, all smooth fresh young girl skin with just a gentle dusting of fine fair hairs. Gary could imagine it; imagine his hand at first stroking the smooth rounded cheeks, staring at them and the divide hiding all her womanly secrets, before it descended with a satisfying smack. What an erotic image, smacking a naughty schoolgirl in the heat of his garden shed, the shiny plum head of his erection just inches from her bottom. A few quick strokes and he could be spraying his stuff in creamy gobbets all over those smooth cheeks. He could imagine Zara's intake of breath as she realised what was happening, feeling the splash, splash, splash of semen and knowing that he was coming on her bottom: and then her cry as the hand descended again with a splat!

But if he didn't choose to ejaculate over her bottom - what then? Gary sat in the hot, sweaty privacy of his shed. Private except that Zoe had been there not minutes before. Wouldn't it have been wonderful if both of them, Zoe and he, had been naked in the shed, sweating a little and touching just a bit as they talked; Zoe smiling as she noticed his erection and perhaps idly stroking it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

What then with Zara and the spanking? Suggest that as she had seen him wanking she might like to try it herself.

"Why were you watching? Did you like seeing me come?"

"I... yes."

"Would you like to work my cock, make it come, then?"

Would she say please? Would there be enthusiasm? "Oh, may I Mr Roldern - please, I'd love to do that."

How lovely to hand control over to the schoolgirl, watch as his cock was (unskilfully) handled until she set him off.

"Here it comes, Zara!"

And where would she direct it? On the floor, into her hand - lovely to imagine the creamy pool growing in the upturned palm of her other hand as it poured from his cock until it overflowed and dripped through her fingers onto her school skirt or thigh - or would she have pulled open her blouse and directed the ejaculation onto her young budding breasts? Budding? They were certainly doing that from what he could tell when he had seen her recently. Did women actually like that, like the warm spatter of seminal fluid on their breasts or was it just porn - a male fantasy? Gary did not know. Certainly it was an image he liked!

Lovely to imagine the creamy pool in the palm of her hand: a round overflowing lake of warm swirly semen. Gary imagined her staring at it almost in disbelief at its quantity. He shrugged, he might have a small cock - albeit thick - but he certainly produced an ejaculation and a half. It was like the old Cadbury's Dairy Milk slogan - a glass and a half of full cream milk in every half pound... or stumpy erection. Well, it was not that much but it was certainly a lot! His wife, his ex wife, of course had not liked it, had complained about the 'mess' he made. Had she not realised sex was messy - and what about when she had cheated on him with that husband of Tania's? Those photographs had been more than a little 'messy'?

Gary imagined Zara saying, "Mr Roldern, what shall I do with it?"

"You wanted it Zara, it's up to you. It's yours now. Pour it away, wipe it off or, you could, if you like, drink it all up - put colour in your cheeks."

He could imagine her little pink tongue poking out and tentatively tasting the still warm pool of cream; the semen sticking to her tongue in a viscous strand as she lifted her head.

"It's quite salty, Mr Roldern."

"Do have some more!"

He imagined Zara lapping it up like a cat, her lips coated in cream, her little tongue running around her lips as she drank it all down; finally licking her sticky fingers.

"All gone, Mr Roldern. Can I have some more another day?"

The answer was obvious.

Or, rather than spank her, would he be stern and tell her that, whilst he wasn't going to fuck her, she should take it like a woman.

"Not my bottom..."

Tempting! Those virginal cheeks...

"No, you silly girl, in your mouth."

Gary thought, was her mouth big enough for him? Surely it would be?

All the visual pleasure of seeing his cock approaching her pretty virgin mouth, moving her long fair hair out of the way so he could watch; seeing her lips make the 'O' shape and then, with maidenly hesitation, take in the head; her eyes looking up at him; 'doe like' - of course - as her lips closed and he felt the touch of her tongue: a slow sliding of lips down the shaft and...

Gary came, with his fist moving fast - his pent up cock once more pouring strands of cream across his tummy - another gasping, sweaty, enjoyable and of course profuse orgasm in his garden shed.

As was becoming his custom, Gary did not clean up. He sat for a few minutes thinking before wandering out, dripping a little, to work in his garden. He could not really imagine Zara would come to his shed again, if she ever had; Zoe would have scared her off with the handkerchief; a bit of a shame but he hardly wanted in real life to become in any way involved with an eighteen year old - did he? Zoe, though, would have been more the thing, though he hardly wanted to upset his neighbour, Tom, who was a good bloke. Pity it had not been Zoe's handkerchief and been Zoe in his shed, really. A little bit of peeking by a happily married woman was hardly going to do her any harm. To be fair he did not really know it had been Zara: it might still have been the cat, Marmalade.