Making the Garden Spring-ready

Whistling, I step out of my van, gray, with on both sides in moss-green curly letters, "Get your garden pampered by Gardener Bruce!" That does well in this expensive neighborhood. Today I'm going to make the countess's garden spring-ready. I don't think she's really of nobility, but her house and garden are big enough for it and she has a French-sounding name. It is also the semi-annual reunion with Bettie the kitchen maid, which -- for sure -- is not the official description of her position, but articulates well where she can always be found. She is tall, has long blond curls and a sweet smile that could break through at any moment.

'Mr. Bruce, coffee', Bettie calls after I have cut, say, one rose. I rush inside. Bettie is waiting for me, hands at her sides. She is wearing a white apron over a light blue dress. I bet she's not wearing any panties underneath. I sit down at the kitchen table and finish my coffee. Then the time has come. Bettie puts her firm breasts on the countertop, pulls her skirt up to above her buttocks and looks at me over her shoulder pleadingly.

'Today I want it in my ass, Mr. Bruce.

'Yes, but preferably not here,' I reply startled, 'Madam can enter the kitchen at any moment.'

'That's what makes it so exciting.'

I grab a bottle of olive oil and lower my overalls and underpants to my ankles. I pour some oil on my hand and rub it between Bettie's buttocks. With my right hand, meanwhile, I jerk off: only a super-stiff cock can open the tight little hole. With my thumb, I carefully widen Bettie's anus. This way I let her get used to the coming intruder.

The door swings open and the Countess steps into the kitchen. I freeze instantly. What a scene: the kitchen maid with shiny buttocks, half on the kitchen counter, the gardener with his thumb in her anus and his stiff cock in his other hand. And what a contrast to the frail countess; dark blue skirt, white blouse with red scarf, shiny black loafers, hair in a bun. She looks like a lady of age, even though she is not yet 20! For one moment she stands stiffened, wide-eyed, her mouth open in amazement. Then she runs out of the kitchen. 'Oops', Bettie and I say at the same time.

When I want to go after the countess, Bettie stops me. 'Never mind. I'll talk to her. Now get to work in the garden quickly.'

To avoid further trouble, I empty my lunchbox on a plastic garden chair near the tool shed. I make little progress that day. I am far too excited to work with concentration. I am constantly walking with a visible bulge in my pants. The image of Bettie's willing buttocks won't get out of my head. And then there is the adrenaline of the situation: caught red-handed by the Countess.

At 5 o'clock -- I have just started clearing away the garden tools -- Bettie comes out. 'She wants to have a word with you before you leave.' I walk after Bettie, through the kitchen, into the hallway and then up the stairs. Bettie knocks on one of the doors, then she pushes the door open and me inside. She closes the door behind me again.

In a large, antique-furnished room, the countess sits behind a massive desk. But is this the same countess as this morning? All the grandeur is gone. She is wearing a wrinkled tracksuit. Her mascara is runny, in black streaks across her cheeks. The bun is gone, her hair hanging down sluicy. She has closed her eyes.

'The garden is spring-ready', I stammer, and when she says nothing back: 'I would like to apologize to you for this morning's unpleasantness. I can imagine that you are disappointed.' She still says nothing. I don't seem to be reaching her, so I remain silent as well. After a very uncomfortable, long minute of silence, she opens her eyes. She takes me in from head to toe and says: 'My name is Louise and I want it too.'

'What?' It's out before I've thought.

'What you did to Bettie', she continues.

'I'm afraid you have the wrong impression of me. I'm not someone who does such things just like that. You do those things because you feel like it, not on command. You have to feel something for the other person.'

She nods disappointed and says softly: 'I understand, sorry I misjudged you so much.'

Feeling rotten, I drive home. Not even because I have been caught in a compromising pose, but because once again I have pretended to be better than I am. I sleep badly that night.

***

Exactly one week later I get a call. It's still early. It is Bettie. 'Mr. Bruce, I have a request.'

I park the van in the driveway, walk around the back and knock on the kitchen door. Bettie opens, looking radiant. I face her. She unbuttons my overalls to my navel, pulls the top down over my shoulders and buttons the empty sleeves together on my stomach. She pulls my shirt over my head and places it on one of the kitchen chairs. Then she takes two steps back, looks at the result and says: 'Perfect!'

She walks to the kitchen counter and grabs a tray containing a jar of raspberry jam, croissants and two glasses of orange juice. She pushes the tray into my hands and says: 'Come'. I follow her up the stairs. Bettie knocks on one of the doors, a different one from last time. She opens the door and says, 'Miss Louise, here is your breakfast.' It is another large room. The curtains are already open, the sun shining in. In the center of the room is a large double bed. Leaned, against the headboard sits a radiant countess, with a towel for her titties. She looks like a ray of sunshine.

I put the tray on the bed and sit down next to it. 'Croissant, Miss Louise?' As she takes the croissant she drops the towel. Women are at their best when they just wake up! And this 19-year-old sweetheart offers herself to me uninhibitedly. I want to take her in my arms, I want to spoil her. She deserves it. But first: breakfast.

After breakfast, she quickly crawls under the comforter. 'Come', she says. I crawl next to her, the bed is still warm and smells deliciously of sleeping girls. She turns over, with her back to me. I lie down against her. I put an arm around her. I caress her belly, her navel and then gently her breasts. I kiss the downy hairs on her neck. When I touch her nipples she shudders. She quickly turns around and bites my nose. 'Not my nipples, gardener', she laughs. Then she disappears with her head under the comforter. She is not one to undergo it all quietly. Sex is play!

She kisses my belly and then she blows very hard on it. Then she grabs my stiff cock with two hands, pulls the skin all the way down and bites my glans. Tears well up in my eyes.

'Ho, ho, careful, please don't', I yell. I hold up the comforter.

She looks guiltily at me over her shoulder. Sweat on her forehead, fire-red cheeks.

'Oh dear, did I hurt you?'

'A little,' I lie, but she's already gone. This time she doesn't bite, but licks gently.

Meanwhile, she has her knees on either side of my head and pushes her soft, clean-shaven pussy onto my mouth. I kiss her lips. She is warm and moist. I stick my tongue in a little bit. 'Yes!' she sighs and starts rubbing her lips over my mouth. I stick my tongue out a little further. I feel she has forgotten she was fondling my cock. She is only still holding it firmly with both hands. As a life preserver. Her head lies on my belly.

There is a knock on the door. 'Coffee...'

It's Bettie. Again I feel caught, but Louise is not bothered by anything. 'Mmm, yummy', she calls out. She gets up and sits down next to me. Bettie comes in. She looks as if it's all the most natural thing in the world. She puts the coffee on the little table next to the bed. As she wants to walk away Louise sighs: 'Come on Bet, you have to join in!' Bettie shows her very sweetest smile and begins to undress. Completely naked, she lies down next to me. I hadn't seen this coming, a sweetheart on each side! 'Gardener Bruce doesn't like being bitten', Louise warns before disappearing under the comforter again. Bettie goes after her.

What they're all doing under the comforter I don't know. But it feels wonderful and they are audibly enjoying themselves. There's a giggle. They also seem to be having a whole conversation about what they are up to with me: '... squeezing his...,... with my tits against...,... squirt a little... ' The rest I cannot understand.

Then Louise appears above the comforter and starts kissing me passionately. Bettie grabs my cock and puts it against Louise's lips. She slowly lowers herself onto me. It doesn't come naturally, every now and then she bites her lip with a big frown on her forehead. When I am completely inside her she takes a short break to catch her breath. Then she starts to move up and down slowly. 'Is it your first time', I ask. 'Yes', she whispers. 'You're doing great', I try to reassure her. She doesn't respond. She has her eyes closed and is totally absorbed in her movement. She begins to moan. I caress with my hands her breasts, her shoulders, her hair. She grabs my hand and puts my index finger in her mouth and begins to move more firmly. Then suddenly she stops. 'Owowo, Bettie, I can't hold it anymore', She presses her knees hard into my sides and begins to tremble. Then she puts her head on my chest. Occasionally she still trembles after. Bettie comes to lie beside us and whispers in my ear, 'Nice, isn't it, Mr. Bruce?'

We finish our coffee and then Louise says, 'Bet has some left.'

'And so have I', I reply. Bettie grabs a bottle of oil from the tray and hands it to me.

Louise stretches out on the bed. Bettie lies down on Louise, one knee on each side, and raises her buttocks. As I shine Bettie's buttocks again and massage her starlet with oil on my thumb, I see the ladies begin to make love to each other with increasing intensity. They kiss each other on their mouths and Louise puts her hand on Bettie's pussy and starts fingering her. Bettie pushes her breasts on Louise's breasts. This is not the first time they have sex with each other.

I have never been so aroused. When I push a little harder on Bettie's starlet with my thumb, I am already close to cumming. My thumb slides in. At first I feel resistance, then less and less, and when I pull my thumb back, Bettie's anus even remains slightly open. 'Go ahead, stick it in', Bettie says. 'Yes, yes, stick it in her ass', cries Louise, 'stick your gardener's cock in the kitchen maid's anus.'

It comes naturally, I am completely drunk on these two horny girls. I grab Bettie's hips and thrust my cock inside. Bettie doesn't budge. I thrust and keep thrusting. I try not to cum, but no matter how hard I try, an explosion of my balls is inevitable. And then I want it. I have to squirt my horn into Bettie's anus. I lose all control. I jerk my belly against her ass and squirt my cum deep into her belly. I know what will happen next: my cock will go limp and be squeezed out. 'Stay inside me', Bettie commands. 'How?', I wonder silently, but Louise lends a hand: she pulls up her knees, trapping me between her knees and Bettie's buttocks. Louise fingers and talks Bettie to a climax: 'Go on baby, cum with the gardener in your ass.' When she cums she squeezes her buttocks so hard that she still pushes my cock out.

We fall next to each other on the bed. 'Come Bet', Louise says, 'get a bottle of bubbly from the cellar and three glasses, the countess is no longer a virgin!'