I look over and smile as I tilt my head. This is why I help Ryan’s mom in the garden. It’s so hot, she has no choice but to wear tiny shorts and a tank top. She doesn’t wear tight shorts, which you would think would be disappointing, but it’s not. That’s because I now know her secret. She gardens commando.
My friends are idiots. They’re off spending the summer home from college swimming at the lake while I’m here, catching glimpses of Mrs. Martin’s bare pussy. I lick my lips as I fantasize about crawling over there and tasting her. At that very moment, she looks at me over her shoulder.
My gaze shoots to her face to find her mouth open in surprise. Her eyes widen as she likely realizes exactly what I was looking at.
She reaches back and covers herself with her hands.
“Please don’t,” I say. “Even if you just let me watch and never touch, just… please let me see.”
She stays like that for what feels like forever. I’m worried she’s going to jump up and run into the house to change her clothes. But after a moment, she moves her hands away and goes back to weeding.
I don’t know if this means I’m allowed to touch or just look. Then she spreads her knees even wider, giving me a better view. I drop my spade in the dirt and crawl closer to her.
When I glide my hand up the back of her leg, she freezes for a moment, then goes back to what she was doing.
I move my hand up her inner thigh, then pause at the line where her leg meets her body. When she doesn’t stop me, I trace my fingers over the lips of her pussy.
“Fuck,” I whisper when I find her wet.
“Is this why you help me in the garden?” she asks.
“Yes. I love watching you. I love touching you even more.”
I slide two fingers inside her and she moans. Her inner muscles clamp down on me. I blow out a breath as I imagine what she’d feel like around my cock.
When her hips move in a circle, I look at her face. Her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back. I can’t let this opportunity pass me by.
I don’t want to ask with words because I’m afraid she’ll feel like she has to say no, so I move behind her. With my free hand, I push down my board shorts until my dick pops free and sidle up close to her ass.
She grunts when I pull my fingers out, but then I press my tip against her.
“Zach,” she whispers.
“Unless you tell me ‘no’, I’m going to fuck you.”
She’s looking at me over her shoulder. I see her throat work. She bites her lower lip, then pushes her hips back.
I moan as her body pulls me in. She’s wet and warm and so tight. I slide deeper and deeper until my groin is against the material of her shorts. I pant out a few breaths as I try to hold myself back. I can’t believe I’m balls deep inside Mrs. Martin.
She’s on her hands and knees, having dropped her spade at some point. I feel the dirt under my knees as I rock back and forth. I start slow because I’m already close to blowing my load.
“More,” she says.
My hands were at her hips, but I slide them up under her tank top, up further until I can pinch and pull on her nipples in time with my thrusts. She sucks in a breath, then it comes out in a low whine.
She lifts one hand off the ground and moves it to her clit. I wish I could watch her touch herself. I thrust into her faster, pulling harder on her nipples. She moans my name as the friction increases. I feel a tingle behind my balls. It won’t take much more to push me over.
Her little grunts get higher and closer together until I feel her explode around me. But instead of exploding outward, it’s like she does it inward, squeezing my cock so hard as her body arches. Her body undulates around me. She jerks against my hold on her nipples.
Her orgasm triggers mine. I probably should have pulled out, but I’m not sure her body would have let me go. So I growl as my ass cheeks rhythmically clench to the beat of the sparks zipping up my spine.
“Oh my God,” she groans as her body jolts one last time, causing my dick to do the same.
I don’t want to put all my weight on her, so I roll off to the side and collapse onto my back. I pant as I watch a few fluffy clouds move across the sky.
“We’re definitely doing that again,” she says as she curls against my side.
“Just give me ten minutes.”
She laughs, and the sound seems to dance on the breeze. “I meant tomorrow.”
I smile and take a deep breath. I smell the dirt of the garden. It reminds me of every summer that I’ve helped Mrs. Martin in the garden — every summer since I realized that I’d rather watch her on her knees than look at girls my age in bikinis. And I’m so glad I did.