I found Beth on her knees in the backyard. She was planting flowers, and I stood on the porch and watched her for a while. It was a high-summer day and hot, and the back of her shirt and the waist of her shorts were dark with sweat. I liked watching the muscles in her arms and the way her ass swayed when she shifted position.
“Hey, Beth,” I said, and she looked up, not quite startled. She wasn’t used to seeing me here in the daytime, and I usually rang the doorbell when I came over. But a couple of weeks ago she had given me a key (not directly; I’d had to search for it, and when I pulled the slim case from between her legs, she came with a fierce convulsion). Beth pushed a strand of hair from her face, leaving a dark streak under one eye, and came to meet me, her knees stained from the dirt, plastic garden clogs sluff-sluffing through the grass.
We embraced and kissed. She was hot from the sun, a little red, and slick as a seal from suntan lotion and perspiration. She smelled like cocoa butter and cinnamon and musk, and her nipples poked my stomach as we hugged. She reached for the drink I’d made for her – a season-appropriate Tom Collins – and took a long drink. A little drooled from the side of her mouth and onto a shirt and she giggled and wiped her chin with the back of her wrist.
Beth sank down into a chair and sighed. “I’ve been at it for hours,” she said, and she took out a cigarette. I lit it for her and watched her smoke. For some moments she stared out across the yard, still thinking about flowers and mulch, and then she turned to me. “This is unusual,” she said, and I nodded.
“When you’re done with that we’re going inside,” I said.
“Yes, Sir,” said Beth and lowered her eyes. She shifted subtly in her seat, looking at her clogs, which she slowly slipped off one at a time.
I mentioned that I hadn’t been by before in the daytime. Beth and I have an arrangement. When I call she comes to me, or sometimes I pick her up here. It’s still fairly new, and it’s been a balancing act, and I was a little worried that my coming over unannounced would tip something over and make a loud crash. But I’d been wanting to assert my prerogative as a Dom a little more, and I figured that meant taking control, for a little while, of Beth’s space and time. Not that I needed to explain any of this to her. I was going to show her.
Beth put out her cigarette and then put her hands on her knees. I let her wait like that for a little while. It was pleasant listening to the summer sounds. After a bit, I could hear her breathing, too, and I knew she was trying to control her nerves. She was wondering what I was going to do, what part of her I’d decided to enjoy. It could be her mouth – she’d worked hard on her cock-sucking skills and after some false starts and sputtering and drooling, which I secretly hadn’t minded, she was more than proficient, and could take my full length with ease. She was proud of this new talent, and naturally I’d given her lots of opportunities to earn my praise. I still couldn’t understand the things she tried to say when my cock was on her tongue, but the tone came through loud and clear.
If it wasn’t her mouth I wanted, it could be either her cunt or ass. Usually I opted for a combination of two, with perhaps a third if we weren’t in a rush. Unfortunately for both of us, today would have to be quick; I had to be somewhere in forty-five minutes. So I gestured with a nod to the kitchen. Beth rose and padded inside and I followed. When she got to the old farmhouse table on the side of the room I said, “Stop. Now turn around. I want to look at you.”
Beth always looks good to me, but today was a little different. She seemed to be glowing from somewhere inside, and it made for a nice contrast with the garden dirt on her hands and legs. “The shorts,” I said, and she nodded and unfastened them. They slipped down her legs and pooled around her feet. Her underwear was cut like a bathing suit bottom, but old and faded from a thousand washings. I came to her and put two fingers between her legs and pressed gently upwards. Beth’s breath caught and her eyes half-closed. I leaned down and kissed her neck, right where it meets her shoulder, and again took in the smell of her skin, the sun and the dirt and the bitterness of her sweat and something underneath, musky and primal. I worked my fingers up, pushing the gusset of her underwear between the lips of her cunt, and she leaned back against the table and opened her legs slightly for my hand.
“Pull them down,” I said, and she leaned down and slid the underwear down her legs. The gusset caught at first, as I’d intended, and then slipped free with a small slick sound, the mark of her wet clear. Beth started to lift her legs to pull them down over her knees. I said, “That’s fine,” and she dropped her hands. “Now, turn around,” I added, and Beth twirled, not too awkwardly. She didn’t need to be told to bend over the table, and she was graceful in her compliance, crossing her wrists and laying her head on her arm.
I hadn’t really made up my mind until I saw her from behind. It would be her ass, no question of it. Now I realized that I’d come up short in a big way: I hadn’t planned ahead, and I had no idea where she kept her lube. Nor was I going to ask her. But it occurred to me I could make do with what was at hand. “Stay there,“ I said, unnecessarily, began to search. In the third cabinet I found what I was looking for, and I couldn’t help grinning at the label that specified that this olive oil was virgin.
I came back to where Beth was waiting. Her eyes were on the bottle, and I raised it a little and shook it. “Mm hm,” I smiled, and a corner of her mouth tugged sideways. I set the bottle down beside her thigh and knelt and kissed her pussy. Beth let out another sigh, and then a small noise when I took one of her labia and gently bit down on it. Her wet had escaped her cunt and come down the insides of her thighs a little, and I took a moment to dig my thumbs into the soft flesh and massage her for a moment. Now Beth let loose her first full moan, and she rocked a bit, trying to get me to slip a finger into her pussy. I slapped her on the ass, not harder than her begging warranted. She gasped and sighed again and quit moving.
I was ready. I was more than ready, having wanted to be inside her ever since I came up with the idea of dropping by her house. I stood and slowly unbuckled my belt – I wanted her to hear the clink of the buckle, the small creak of the leather – and unzipped my trousers (and I was glad Beth couldn’t see how my cock got tangled momentarily in my boxer shorts, though she may have heard the short word I spoke under my breath while I worked it free).
I slapped Beth’s ass again, just because it seemed right, and reached for the bottle of olive oil. I first poured some of the oil on my fingers, and I slid one, then a second, into her ass. The ring of her asshole clutched at them, and I paused for a moment, letting her get used to me, and then I gently fucked her. I used my other hand to reach under her and stroke her pussy, sliding a thumb inside, tweaking her clit, which had thickened; I pictured a small, shiny date peering out from beneath its hood. Beth murmured a dreamy “Um,” and pushed back a little onto my hands. I poured a little of the oil into the cleft of her ass and used it to grease her, and then gave my cock a liberal coating.
And then I was there, pushing my cockhead into her. The olive oil made it easy, and Beth opened for me. I took it slowly; no matter how many times I fuck her ass, for her it’s like the first, and I didn’t want it to hurt too much. But it wasn’t long until I was completely in her, and I started a slow rocking motion, back and forth, back and forth. Beth made soft grunting sounds, and I could see that she’d curled her hands into loose fists.
I lifted her shirt to her shoulders. I love looking at her back, with its smooth, pale skin and soft curves and the play of muscles, almost as much as I love looking in her eyes. And I began to fuck her harder, and added another swat or two across the ass for good measure. Beth cried out and her body began a slow convulsion. Her cunt contracted around my fingers and she moved her ass onto my cock. And then she was coming, and I had my arms under her shoulders, pulling her onto me, and my fingers buried in her hair. She yelled out her orgasm, sounds without words, and it was her hard come that triggered mine, my seed jetting into her ass, her face raised, the eyes closed, a tear leaving a streak through the dirt on her cheek.
And then we were through, and I helped her untangle her underwear and get them back up around her hips and she helped zip up my trousers, our mouths locked together. I explained that I had to go, was in fact late, and she grinned and said, “Not even time for a smoke?”
Ten minutes later I was in the car and driving too quickly to make my appointment, and it occurred to me that I really should have paid more attention to her nipples. Next time, I will.
“Hey, Beth,” I said, and she looked up, not quite startled. She wasn’t used to seeing me here in the daytime, and I usually rang the doorbell when I came over. But a couple of weeks ago she had given me a key (not directly; I’d had to search for it, and when I pulled the slim case from between her legs, she came with a fierce convulsion). Beth pushed a strand of hair from her face, leaving a dark streak under one eye, and came to meet me, her knees stained from the dirt, plastic garden clogs sluff-sluffing through the grass.
We embraced and kissed. She was hot from the sun, a little red, and slick as a seal from suntan lotion and perspiration. She smelled like cocoa butter and cinnamon and musk, and her nipples poked my stomach as we hugged. She reached for the drink I’d made for her – a season-appropriate Tom Collins – and took a long drink. A little drooled from the side of her mouth and onto a shirt and she giggled and wiped her chin with the back of her wrist.
Beth sank down into a chair and sighed. “I’ve been at it for hours,” she said, and she took out a cigarette. I lit it for her and watched her smoke. For some moments she stared out across the yard, still thinking about flowers and mulch, and then she turned to me. “This is unusual,” she said, and I nodded.
“When you’re done with that we’re going inside,” I said.
“Yes, Sir,” said Beth and lowered her eyes. She shifted subtly in her seat, looking at her clogs, which she slowly slipped off one at a time.
I mentioned that I hadn’t been by before in the daytime. Beth and I have an arrangement. When I call she comes to me, or sometimes I pick her up here. It’s still fairly new, and it’s been a balancing act, and I was a little worried that my coming over unannounced would tip something over and make a loud crash. But I’d been wanting to assert my prerogative as a Dom a little more, and I figured that meant taking control, for a little while, of Beth’s space and time. Not that I needed to explain any of this to her. I was going to show her.
Beth put out her cigarette and then put her hands on her knees. I let her wait like that for a little while. It was pleasant listening to the summer sounds. After a bit, I could hear her breathing, too, and I knew she was trying to control her nerves. She was wondering what I was going to do, what part of her I’d decided to enjoy. It could be her mouth – she’d worked hard on her cock-sucking skills and after some false starts and sputtering and drooling, which I secretly hadn’t minded, she was more than proficient, and could take my full length with ease. She was proud of this new talent, and naturally I’d given her lots of opportunities to earn my praise. I still couldn’t understand the things she tried to say when my cock was on her tongue, but the tone came through loud and clear.
If it wasn’t her mouth I wanted, it could be either her cunt or ass. Usually I opted for a combination of two, with perhaps a third if we weren’t in a rush. Unfortunately for both of us, today would have to be quick; I had to be somewhere in forty-five minutes. So I gestured with a nod to the kitchen. Beth rose and padded inside and I followed. When she got to the old farmhouse table on the side of the room I said, “Stop. Now turn around. I want to look at you.”
Beth always looks good to me, but today was a little different. She seemed to be glowing from somewhere inside, and it made for a nice contrast with the garden dirt on her hands and legs. “The shorts,” I said, and she nodded and unfastened them. They slipped down her legs and pooled around her feet. Her underwear was cut like a bathing suit bottom, but old and faded from a thousand washings. I came to her and put two fingers between her legs and pressed gently upwards. Beth’s breath caught and her eyes half-closed. I leaned down and kissed her neck, right where it meets her shoulder, and again took in the smell of her skin, the sun and the dirt and the bitterness of her sweat and something underneath, musky and primal. I worked my fingers up, pushing the gusset of her underwear between the lips of her cunt, and she leaned back against the table and opened her legs slightly for my hand.
“Pull them down,” I said, and she leaned down and slid the underwear down her legs. The gusset caught at first, as I’d intended, and then slipped free with a small slick sound, the mark of her wet clear. Beth started to lift her legs to pull them down over her knees. I said, “That’s fine,” and she dropped her hands. “Now, turn around,” I added, and Beth twirled, not too awkwardly. She didn’t need to be told to bend over the table, and she was graceful in her compliance, crossing her wrists and laying her head on her arm.
I hadn’t really made up my mind until I saw her from behind. It would be her ass, no question of it. Now I realized that I’d come up short in a big way: I hadn’t planned ahead, and I had no idea where she kept her lube. Nor was I going to ask her. But it occurred to me I could make do with what was at hand. “Stay there,“ I said, unnecessarily, began to search. In the third cabinet I found what I was looking for, and I couldn’t help grinning at the label that specified that this olive oil was virgin.
I came back to where Beth was waiting. Her eyes were on the bottle, and I raised it a little and shook it. “Mm hm,” I smiled, and a corner of her mouth tugged sideways. I set the bottle down beside her thigh and knelt and kissed her pussy. Beth let out another sigh, and then a small noise when I took one of her labia and gently bit down on it. Her wet had escaped her cunt and come down the insides of her thighs a little, and I took a moment to dig my thumbs into the soft flesh and massage her for a moment. Now Beth let loose her first full moan, and she rocked a bit, trying to get me to slip a finger into her pussy. I slapped her on the ass, not harder than her begging warranted. She gasped and sighed again and quit moving.
I was ready. I was more than ready, having wanted to be inside her ever since I came up with the idea of dropping by her house. I stood and slowly unbuckled my belt – I wanted her to hear the clink of the buckle, the small creak of the leather – and unzipped my trousers (and I was glad Beth couldn’t see how my cock got tangled momentarily in my boxer shorts, though she may have heard the short word I spoke under my breath while I worked it free).
I slapped Beth’s ass again, just because it seemed right, and reached for the bottle of olive oil. I first poured some of the oil on my fingers, and I slid one, then a second, into her ass. The ring of her asshole clutched at them, and I paused for a moment, letting her get used to me, and then I gently fucked her. I used my other hand to reach under her and stroke her pussy, sliding a thumb inside, tweaking her clit, which had thickened; I pictured a small, shiny date peering out from beneath its hood. Beth murmured a dreamy “Um,” and pushed back a little onto my hands. I poured a little of the oil into the cleft of her ass and used it to grease her, and then gave my cock a liberal coating.
And then I was there, pushing my cockhead into her. The olive oil made it easy, and Beth opened for me. I took it slowly; no matter how many times I fuck her ass, for her it’s like the first, and I didn’t want it to hurt too much. But it wasn’t long until I was completely in her, and I started a slow rocking motion, back and forth, back and forth. Beth made soft grunting sounds, and I could see that she’d curled her hands into loose fists.
I lifted her shirt to her shoulders. I love looking at her back, with its smooth, pale skin and soft curves and the play of muscles, almost as much as I love looking in her eyes. And I began to fuck her harder, and added another swat or two across the ass for good measure. Beth cried out and her body began a slow convulsion. Her cunt contracted around my fingers and she moved her ass onto my cock. And then she was coming, and I had my arms under her shoulders, pulling her onto me, and my fingers buried in her hair. She yelled out her orgasm, sounds without words, and it was her hard come that triggered mine, my seed jetting into her ass, her face raised, the eyes closed, a tear leaving a streak through the dirt on her cheek.
And then we were through, and I helped her untangle her underwear and get them back up around her hips and she helped zip up my trousers, our mouths locked together. I explained that I had to go, was in fact late, and she grinned and said, “Not even time for a smoke?”
Ten minutes later I was in the car and driving too quickly to make my appointment, and it occurred to me that I really should have paid more attention to her nipples. Next time, I will.
