The Watcher

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Lonely rich girl pleasures herself & the gardener.
1.5k words
4.12
31.6k
3
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I knew you were watching me. At first, I would see you as you passed by the window, appearing to be intent on your job of cutting and trimming the grass and keeping the grounds of my 100 acre estate looking pristine. You never stepped out of bounds, especially when my husband was home. But I could tell that you liked looking at me. Several times, when I was sitting by the pool, I noticed you walking through the arboretum to get to the orchard...which is the long way around. I would wave, you would smile that cute dimpled grin of yours and sheepishly walk away...the sweat glistening on your arms where you had rolled up your sleeves.

So it didn’t surpass me any when I noticed you working late, almost into the dusk, hauling loads of shrubbery clippings. Now, I’m the watcher, watching you bend in those tight jeans of yours and the sweat soaked tee shirt. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window and sigh. I see a woman in her late twenties, wasting away in a lonely crystal palace. I toss a tendril of my shoulder length hair out of my face and I wonder if you liked short sassy blondes. My husband was away on business and I intended to find out.

I watch you pause from your work to openly stand and stare at me in my bedroom on the second floor. Slowly, I turn from the window, slip out of my clothes and wrap my yellow silk robe around me as I walk downstairs to the arboretum.

This room is one of my favorites for several reasons. First, it is filled with living breathing things, not statues or paintings, or seldom used china, but wild things, tamed by expert hands. I open the door and the steam of the greenhouse greets my face. I often come down here to sit in the whirlpool at the far end of the room and to enjoy getting back to nature.

The sun was setting and cast its glow over the building, painting it in a wonderful palette of golds, reds and yellows. The reflective nature of the glass in the room causes miniature rainbows to reflect off and shine onto the tile floors. If you hold your hand just right, you can hold a tiny rainbow in your hand.

I loosen my robe, allowing the moisture laden air to caress my breasts, belly and legs. I move to turn some music on, to add to the mystery of the evening, dragging an idle finger in the bubbling water of the whirlpool, then stand where one of the reflections can shine on my body. Instantly a rainbow wash of color appears on my naked torso, a muted canvas for the light.

I look toward the horizon to see how much light would be left to produce my tiny prisms and there you are. Leaning on the end of your rake, your work gloves still on, you stare intently. I meet your gaze as I move my hands to push the robe off my shoulders. As it falls to the ground I step clear of it and pose on the edge of the whirlpool, still holding your attention, and slowly begin to pour lightly scented oil into my hands. Wrenching my attention from your gorgeous green eyes, I apply the oil first to my slender arms, delighting in the feel of the slippery oil on my skin. I take the bottle and drizzle it across both breasts allowing it to run in rivulets down each breast and to drip sensually onto my stomach.

With determined strokes I work the oil into my breasts, massaging them, pulling at the nipples until they stand erect and lonely, searching for a lover. My hands slide down my torso and pause, hovering over my sex. I look to see if you are still there. You are.

Slowly, I spread my legs and reveal the pink flesh of my sex to you. I lean back and began stroking myself as I watch the shovel fall from your hands and your gloves come off as you make your way to the far door of the room.

The feel of my own fingers is so good, sending shivers of delight racing up my spine. I slowly trace the outline of my wet pussy, then explore the sensitive tip of my clit waiting for you to appear. Minutes pass. Still you haven’t arrived to satisfy me.

As usual, I would have to satisfy myself. I stand and walk to a cabinet on the other side of the pool and in the bottom drawer I retrieve my helpful companion, the Dildo 2000 with variable speeds. I choose a chaise lounger near the whirlpool, where the sunlamps can warm me, and turn on the machine. Funny how its very hum makes me even hornier, and I can feel the juices flowing before I have even chosen the first attachment. Thinking of you, I select the longest double stimulator and began working it around my longing pussy.

As the pussy juice coats the dildo, I imagine you running your tongue over my hot sex, imagine I can feel your finger fucking me, of looking down and seeing your eyes and your face between my legs, loving me.

I stick the apparatus in my shaking hole and slowly withdraw it again and again, as I massage my tits with my free hand. I begin to moan as the sexual pressure begins to build. Switching speeds I move it in and out quicker, making sure that the upper stimulator strokes my button.

The leaves of an overhanging tree move, and then I see you standing and watching me, a hungry look on your face. But I can’t stop. The feel of the machine is too good, no matter how much I want you. Like it or not, you are going to get a good show.

I begin to flex my hips to the rhythm of the fucking machine, coming against it harder and harder, moaning and sighing as I get closer to that sweet release.

When I open my eyes, you are sitting next to me, so close that I can see the raging hardon in your jeans. You remove your shirt and my hand goes to your chest, even as my other hand continues to move the machine.

I feel you reach down and take the machine from me and continue the movements. You tease the outside of my pussy with the tip of the vibrator, then plunge back into my wet, burning sex. Again and again you screw the slippery device into my hole as your hand finds my chest and your lips find my breast. I moan as I feel your tongue circle my nipple.

With a heaving cry I explode on the vibrator, my pussy’s walls contracting around it, intensifying the orgasm.

“My turn now.” You gently withdraw the vibrator and set it aside as you stand. Holding my gaze as I laid back on the chaise lounger, you slip your pants down over your tight ass and onto the floor. As you step from them, your hard purple cock bobs with relief as it gains its freedom from your work pants. I part my legs and hold my pussy open wide for you.

Without hesitation you run your hard fuck into me, sighing as you do. I love the feel of you inside me. So many nights I had wondered what it would feel like, how big you would be, what your hands would feel like on my body, what your lips would taste like. And now I was finding out...a fantasy come true.

You move the whole weight of your body onto mine and my arms go around you to pull you into me. The desperate need you had for my pussy is evident as your pace quickens almost immediately. You move your hands under my ass and pull yourself deeper into my hot wet hole. I wrap my legs around you, allowing deeper penetration and lose myself as waves of desire roll over me. Again and again you slam your balls against my ass, the wet slapping sex sounds adding to the music of the plants and the last strains of Chopin’s Moonlight Sonata.

I run my hands through your hair as I look into your raging eyes and see the desire in my own eyes reflected there. Suddenly, your head goes back exposing your throat as you moan loudly and fuck me frantically as your hot cum explodes inside me like a geyser, shooting your spunk deep inside my cunt.

“Oh, baby,” I moan. “I’m so glad you came to me tonight.”

“I’ve been watching you and wanting you since I first came to work here.” You nuzzle my neck and kiss me behind my ear.

“I think you can call me Kaitlan, now.”

Grinning you pull my chin forward and kiss my lips passionately. “Kaitlan it is, then. As the head gardener here, I think I have to inform you that I have a lot of work that needs to be done in this arboretum.”

Laughing, I knew I intended to give him a lot of work, too.

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AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
what a delightful story

This story is well written (I am an english teacher)containing all the elements of a good piece of literature ... voice, plot, character, word play, organization, ideas and content ... A+ Greg ...

OH did I mention that is it really HOT?

And a man writing from a woman's perspective, I think you really got it!

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