Chapter 2

Although the ride was very exhilarating, it was rather run of the mill, with the easy conversation of father and daughter passing between the two of them. Nothing to write home to mother about, nothing very exciting really.

She had had her favorite breakfast, cereal with whole strawberries, toast, sausages, and milk to wash the whole thing down. She loved sausages. Nothing to do with the taste, it was the shape of them that appealed to her fancy. Sausages and bananas, they were long and cylindrical, just the same shape of a cock. And that was the best way to start any day, she decided, eating cock to her heart's delight. Just then she settled for eating cock-shaped objects while letting her mind run loose on the fantasy.

As much as possible, she avoided her Daddy's eyes, not wanting him to read her inner most thoughts. That might only lead to more restrictions on her very limited freedom. That would not do at all. Christ, she was almost a prisoner already.

Breakfast completed, Vic brought the horses around. When he helped her aboard, she couldn't help but notice the smirk on his face, as if he was smiling inwardly at some private joke. But how could she guess, inexperienced and virginal as she was, that he was not really smiling. He was biting the insides of his lip to prevent himself from touching her beautiful box, so prominently outlined under her tight jeans, from fondling her firm, erect, immaculately rounded titties, from biting his teeth into the firm fleshy asscheeks that so invitingly beckoned him.

All of this he wanted to do. For the time being, he just smiled, patiently biding his time.

And how could anyone guess what was really going on in that very fertile, very vivid little mind of sweet little Lisa? You can bet the shirt off your back it was her favorite topic.

It was all she could do to restrain her little girl hands from reaching out and touching that most prominent bulge that appeared in Vic's levis whenever she came near him. Even now with her father just a few steps away, the stable hand could not help himself. His cock was straining against the zipper. How she wanted to set it free. To stroke it gently back and forth. To peel the skin back and look at it in the full light of day. To lick on it, to suck the living daylights out of that lovely lollipop that tempted her so much. To have him push it, to the very hilt, into her little snuffbox pussy, and rip away that most hated cherry-thing that she'd come to despise so much in the last few days. All these things were running through lovely little Lisa's mind from the time she mounted-"mounted," the mere word brought visions of a strong muscular body, poised over hers, pumping stiff cock into her cunt, her insatiable, fiery cunt-all through the rambling hills, her Daddy at her side chatting away, not suspecting a single thing that was in her thoughts, the chestnut mare responding to her every command.

Now she was alone once more; alone with her thoughts and her fantasies. Her father had departed for the office, the horses were back in the stable, and she was sitting at the pool all by herself. Bobbi, this summer's companion-chaperone, more jail keeper than anything else, was reading a novel at the other end of the pool, near the diving board. Another day in the life of a sweet, all-American princess.

Lazily she got up and stretched. A new surge of energy flowed through her body right into her titties. They were rock-hard and tingling, tender and exciting to the touch. That was when she made up her mind. She'd go upstairs and have a bath, spend some time on her own body, satisfying its every craving.

But first she went down toward the stables hoping to catch Vic with his shirt off, going through his daily chores, muscles rippling in the bright California sunshine. If she had a choice of cock, it would be that one. She wanted it so badly that sometimes she woke up nights, bathed in perspiration from just dreaming about it. Vic was definitely an improvement around the house. He was definitely a better stable hand than old Matt, whom he had replaced. And so much better to dream about.

Very purposefully she walked toward the old potting shed at the back of the stable. From there, if she was lucky, Vic's body would give her all the eye-food that she needed.

Whistling nonchalantly, she skirted the stable, giving it a wide berth and finally circling back to the potting shed. As luck would have it, Vic had the top half of the stable back door thrown open to its fullest. A thought flashed through her mind: why did he have to wear clothes at all? When she inherited this house from her father, she'd make a rule, nobody, not workers, not guests, nobody would be required to wear clothing on the premises. She'd have her own nudist colony right up there in the hills, and if your equipment didn't measure up, one invitation was all you got. Already her pussy was getting all hot and bothered from the mere thought of all that equipment running around.

But that's how she wanted it. Her cunt wet and warm. Sending shivers up her spine when she touched it. Untold pleasure when she massaged her little button clit. When she probed the soft inner membranes, so delicate and smooth to the touch, yet capable of providing her with the greatest turn-on she had known yet It was so easy. All she had to do was put one small, dainty finger inside, past the fleshy lips which reminded her of two soft gates formed by folds of her own skin, until those delicate membranes were actually pressing against her finger, soft like a butterfly's wings, yet with enough muscular force to let her know that they could accommodate more than a mere finger.

Then she'd put a second finger in, all the time marveling at the way her sweet little cunt-box organ became juicier and juicier, actually providing its own lovely lubricant, easing the way for the entry of still a third finger. How she longed to get really deep inside her own cunt. So deep that she could go no more. But, as always, that thin membrane stretched across the channel, her own pussy tunnel, prevented any further delving.

With these thoughts flowing through her mind, her honey-pot cunt all wet from them, her flowering titties all tight and hard, she took up her position behind the thick lush growth of ornamental plants growing in the potting shed. From there she could see right into the stable. Also, by propping her leg up on one of the low benches, the wonderful world of her own succulent puss lay exposed to the ministrations of her very deft fingers.

Just as she settled down to watch, her ears picked up some idle whistling coming from somewhere behind the shed. Christ, she thought, just my luck to have some nosy gardener about, just when I'm about to . . .

She didn't have long to wait Just in time she got her anxious fingers out of her wet crotch. A tall, well-bronzed man, dressed in the rough baggy clothes of a professional gardener, stepped into the potting shed. She pretended not to see him, suddenly becoming interested in a tall philodendron growing in an immense clay pot the wide leaves forming a beautiful pattern.

"Well! Woweee!" the gardener whistled, "What have we here? From what I see of this layout, I am beginning to like this job very much. A man could feel right at home in these surroundings."

From what the man said and the fact that she'd not seen him around before, she surmised that today was his first day on the job. Ti so, he wouldn't know who she really was. That meant she was in luck. Everything seemed to be going right so far today.

"Everybody who works here likes it very much," she said noncommittally, hoping that he'd pick it up from there. She moved away from him, going further into the depths of the shed, strolling with a newly found brazen energy, letting her lovely inviting titties bounce freely, with uncontrolled enjoyment, swinging her asscheeks with vigorous wanton ease. Now there was a spring in her step. The whole thing came so easily, it was almost like dancing. If he doesn't get the message from all these vibes I'm sending out, she thought, then I'll just have to take his pants off and show him what I really want.

But the gardener was only momentarily stunned. That this lovely-as-a-peach, ail-American princess, obviously way out of his class and reach, should come on to him like some hot runaway on the Boulevard, and actually challenge him to follow her, well it threw him for a loop. He had only been at work at this new job for a few hours and really enjoyed taking care of the well-manicured grounds. Also the pay was better than he'd had before. He wasn't about to spoil everything for one quick, obviously easy lay. But still his cock was getting hard, and a hard cock knows no reason.

After considering all that, he decided to play it by ear. Let the little lady call the shots. That way there'd be no heat on him. And after all, she really was prime fuck, at that age when they are most eager to learn. It was a long time since he'd ridden a filly as young and willing as that. Today was his day.

What the fuck is keeping him? Lisa thought, stopping abruptly and looking over her shoulder to see if he was following.

"I need some advice," she smiled, when the gardener finally decided to join her. "Which of these plants would do better in the house?" This was her way of winning his confidence. Ask him a question that he'd feel right at home with. Give the man a chance to settle himself, then gradually work in the right direction.

She flashed him her most charming and alluring smile, her perfectly shaped, brilliant white teeth coming apart just a little, revealing her little agile pink tongue. She was quite a dish, and she knew it. Obviously all this was having its effect on the hapless gardener. She could see the crotch of his baggy work pants beginning to fill out. That was when she brushed some specks of imaginary dust off her cashmere sweater, causing it to mold her apple-hard tits even better.

"Any of them, I imagine, if the sunlight was right. You see with plants, it depends on where you put them." He was waving his arms about in a confused manner, not taking his eyes off her erect nipples. She watched the bulging forearms cord under the sweaty T-shirt that covered his torso. How she wanted to feel one of those large meaty hands crushing her body.

"Listen," he said, "I really didn't mean no harm just now when I whistled. It's just, you know, when you see something young and fresh and so sweet, well... it just sort of came out."

Is this big jock serious? she wondered. Here is this strong hulking cock, in the prime of life, and quite good-looking, going through apologizing changes because he's kinda scared that she's really some spoiled little brat who would go running off to Daddy just because he whistled at her!

The gardener had things upside down. Lisa set about to right them for him.

"No sweat, baby. It happens all the time." The words rolled off her tongue and set him at ease immediately.

"No kidding!" he answered, loosening up now, warming up to her approach. Now that he knew they were both playing the same side of the fence, he began to like what his roving eyes picked out, and the sweet innocence in the way she was just standing there letting her hands idly run over the smooth surface of her breasts.

First day on the job and bingo! Some days you had all the luck.

"Matter of fact, I find it real pleasant. A girl likes men to whistle at her. Means she's got that something extra, if you know what I mean. What do you think?" She came back at him real strong, putting him on the spot once more.

All he wanted to do was get on with it and get the hell out of there before someone came looking. But Lisa seemed content with taking her sweet time about coming around to the main topic.

"Yeh, you're quite attractive. As a matter of fact, if you don't mind my saying so, you're downright sexy. But," he paused for a moment letting his eyes feast on her young, but oh-so-very-willing body, taking his time as he traveled from her gleaming blond hair to her long, well-shaped slender legs, "aren't you a bit young for this lib scene?"

Lisa knew he was having trouble keeping his hands off that growing bulge in his pants. She was too, and it took the greater effort for her not to just reach out and touch it. They were moving closer together now and his cock, that object of her longsuffering dreams, was actually now within an arm's length of her reach. Just to reach out and touch!

"Well, I'm almost eighteen, if you want to know, and besides, if a girl's big enough, she's old enough. Isn't that what all you big cock jocks say?" She watched his pulsating prick while she said this. His dick was swelling so much that it carried the front of his baggy workpants with it, like a small tent sticking up out in front of him. She was really pleased with what she saw. This was a man for all seasons and reasons. Briefly she wondered if she could take all the long hot hard fucking this type would have to give. Well, there was really only just one way to find out for sure.

Time to make a move on, she thought. Ifs now or never. Time to let this gardening jock know what she was after. In no uncertain terms, too. Then if nothing happens, she still would get an E for effort. Not much consolation there, but better than nothing. With a cock in that condition, though, she was sure that something would give sooner or later. Better now.

"Is this thing one of your gardening tools, too?" she asked shyly. 'Tell me what do you use it for?" Still with that disarming look of sweet innocence on her face, she reached out and gave his swollen cock a quick tweak through his working pants. She could feel the blood pulsating down the length of his turgid tool, feel the heat generated by her presence, right through the rough fabric. She'd made it to first base.

But the gardener. He was in retreat. He wasn't so sure of this little sexy eighteen-year-old anymore.

He didn't like the way it would add up if someone caught them in the act.

"Hey, what's with you baby? Trying to get me in hot water, my first day on the job? You crazy or something? What'cha want anyway?"

For all the tea in China, Lisa could not believe her ears. Were these big muscle men just bags of puffed-up wind with no guts? Here she was, five-foot-six and about one hundred fifteen pounds driving that big hulk of a gardener into reverse just because she reached out and touched his dexterous tool when it was just standing there stiff and hard for all the world to see what he really wanted. How could she believe what had just happened!

And this her first real aggressive sexual act! The first one she had initiated of her own volition. She felt like throwing every plant in the place at that stupid fucker. Here she was offering him her super-cute untouched body, to do with as he pleased, and he was acting as if she was some virago ready to stick a shiv between his ribs. She could not afford to let her first foray end in failure, nor could she let him see the tears welling in her blue eyes. One thought came to her mind. Attack!

She grabbed a small plant close at hand and threw it in his direction. It hit his broad chest with a low thump, falling at his feet. The surprise assault galvanized him into action. Before she could throw another, he was on her, pinning her arms behind her back, and looking into her defiant eyes.

"Whoa, hold it baby. No scenes please. "I'm always one to oblige a lady, and if it's cock the little lady wants, then who am I to turn her down?"

He freed one of her arms, guiding her small hand down to his throbbing crotch. Once again she felt the object of her life-long desire and any anger she felt toward him disappeared at that moment of triumph. She moved her fingers along the rigid cylinder of cock, massaging it slowly and gently. Time and time again she'd dreamt of this moment. Here it was at last.

One of his rough hands slipped down to her tight titties and his clever, well-experienced fingers began to give them a long-needed rub-down. He was amazed at the way they responded to his every touch. They were really alive, little, apple-sized organs. And as hot as hell. His large hands easily covered one of them entirely. That was the way he liked it. Not some huge massive cantaloupe-type slipping and sliding all over the place.

No sir, this was a pair of neat, well-constructed tits, just the right size to fit into his mouth. But that would come later. Right now he concentrated on massaging them. Properly. Whereas before he looked upon this as some casual flirtation, now he-was really interested. This prime pussy had his cock going.

She was smiling now, the all-encompassing smile of the super-achiever, snuggling close to him. So close that the smell of soil and sweat filled her delicate nostrils. This she found exciting. To be in the locked embrace of a real man, not one of those well-perfumed imitations, but a real genuine article, with a solid body. It felt great. Even the unexpected roughness of his clothes didn't bother her at all. And what those rough, coarse hands of his were doing to her titties. That she liked the best. Never, in all her born days, had her tits given her such pleasure. Waves and waves of pure pleasure rippled down her body every time her gardener lover touched them. Down, down right into her quivering quim. It was as if he was touching her all over with a warm flame. Her tits were on fire, her cunt was blazing hot. And wet.

All she could think of now was to give him the same sort of pleasure that she was receiving. She was eager to learn how to please her gardener lover, how to please a man, for in pleasing him she could please herself.

Now she really began to massage his cock in all earnest. She wanted so badly to get some idea of its size, to visualize the monster as it flexed and shoved underneath his pants. In vain did she try to get her small hand around his prick to measure its thickness. She'd need both hands for this. She tried getting some idea of its length. Again she was frustratingly disappointed. His cock simply wouldn't settle down and be decently measured; it kept jumping all over the place as soon as she touched it. She could tell that for all his experience he was as hot as she was already. Not even ice water could cool them down.

"My cock likes you," he said smilingly. "You really know how to make him jump. And I go for your neat titties. But if someone should come along, baby, they'd just spoil everything for you and me." Taking her by the hand, he led her willingly to the very back of the shed. 'This is much more private. Don't you agree?"

Only her nodded assent was needed. No words were necessary between them now. She had followed him without saying anything, but her mind was racing like an airplane approaching take-off.

At long last, she was going to be fucked by a man. Goodbye to all her dreams and schemes; she was going to know the real thing, the real McCoy as one of her friends said. No more goose pimples and hot flashes, she was going to get fucked. And fuck all the consequences. Or better yet, fuck me again, she thought. Her body, her cunt, and her tits were doing all the talking. Every single solitary last word of it.

How could she wait! It was like dying a thousand times.

She reached into his pants as soon as they reached the back of the potting shed. For the first time, she felt a cock in the actual living flesh. It felt so smooth and satiny, a distinct contrast to the rest of his hard muscular body. Lisa had no idea that it would be so silky, almost as if all its previous action had served to polish her gardener's cock.

How she loved this new game! She was having" the time of her life. Her eyes were shining as bright as a little kid's on Christmas morning, her skin flushed a deeper pink, her breathing heavy and labored with excitement.

"Wait a minute!" Already he was calling time. It didn't seem fair, just when she was getting started. "Let me ask you something. Now answer me truthfully. Is this your first time, first time ever with a man?" She hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth, thinking he'd kick her out if he really knew.

He shook her for an answer. No words came. Instead she just nodded her beautiful head and surrendered herself to his wishes.

"Just as I thought," he said, "so the big come-on was just a show? Well, I'll tell you what. You came into this shed a virgin and you're gonna leave a virgin, but between coming and going, baby, we're gonna have ourselves one helluva ball. And no one need know the difference. Just follow what I tell you, O.K.?"

Now that he was fully in control, she felt better. Everything was out in the open. This time she wouldn't loose her cherry, but he promised that they'd have fun, and maybe next time he'd claim that membrane of hers. Maybe next time, she thought.

Through this verbal exchange she had not relinquished her firm hold on his erect peter. In fact, she had already begun sliding her small hand back and forth over its velvety surface.

"Whoa! Hold it, baby, or well be finished before we've had a chance to begin properly. Don't want me coming too soon now, do you?" he laughed easily, falling into this new role of teacher.

Lisa felt very relaxed with this man, although she'd only known him for the last ten minutes or so. There was just something about him that she trusted. And too, she really liked him. When you cut through all the bullshit of class difference and money and all that crap, he was one of the most likeable people she'd ever met. And right here in her own backyard.

He sat her on a low bench and stood before her. After what seemed ages to her waiting hands, he slowly unfastened his belt, pulled down his zipper, and let his baggy pants fall down around his knees. Now only the shorts were left.

She couldn't wait for him to do it. She was too heated up for mere formalities. Quickly, moving like a little cobra, she grabbed them low down and pulled. The snaps gave way and they floated down his hips to join his work pants.

And what a sight she uncovered. She couldn't believe her eyes: it was so big and beautiful to her. To make sure she was fully awake, she reached out and touched the object of her long pent-up desire. It was real all right. And live. In living color.

Every time she touched it, it flexed and jumped, sending a jolt of electricity all the way down to her hot, wet snatch. To have waited so long for this. Oh, she was going to enjoy every last moment of it. Milk the moment, sort of.

She grabbed at it with her right hand, working the skin back off the head. But her hand was too small, it just slipped off.

"Use both hands, baby, you'll get a better grip that way," he said. She followed his direction, doing as she was told, now gripping his pole with both hands as best as she could, all the while marveling at the perfect symmetry, the smoothness and the absolute power the huge cock right in front of her eyes seemed to command.

She pulled the skin back as far as it would go. The entire pink head popped into view. The organ resembled a flagpole, a flesh-colored flagpole with a large ornamental pink knob at the top.

Boy did she love what she was doing. This newly found toy was supersensitive, with a mind of its own. And she loved the reaction coming from her gardener.

"O.K., baby. Now for the serious stuff, let's get going. Just where the head meets the shaft, that's where I'm real sensitive. Put both hands there and work them back and forth real slow. That's it, yeah, right there. Now back and forth, slow like. Great, baby, just great That's it, baby. That's great!"

She never knew her little hands could bring anyone such ecstasy. This was a major turning point in her life. If by merely working his cock back and forth, a simple hand-job, she could have this big gardener ooohing and aaahing like this, what would really happen when she turned the juice on full force? He would go through the roof. No half-measures now. If you're going to do something, she thought, do it to the best of your ability. Do it with a passion.

Both of her little hands were now at work on this cock-flagpole in front of her. Even so it was all she could do to control it. The gardener's cock had simply gone wild, jumping around in her hands as though it had a life of its very own. And it was as sensitive as an old violin. But Lisa was a quick study with a marvelous sense of invention. In no time she was playing that supersensitive cock like an expert. Touching it and stroking it and rubbing it against her body, driving that poor gardener out of his mind.

There was only one thing she wanted at that moment. To have one hand free to satisfy that aching in her soaking-wet pussy. Or have the gardener do it for her. So far he had made no move toward her cunt. He seemed very contented to have her do all the work. And she was happy just pleasing him.

"O.K., baby, wet it! Wet my cock up good, little princess!" he groaned. His voice had changed tremendously, coming in a series of low-pitched deep bass groans. Was that the effect that a little inexperienced eighteen-year-old hot cunt could have on this big hulk? Wet it was what the man said, and wet it was what she needed to do. Only how? She could pop it in her mouth. That would be one way. Or what about the juice from her soaking-wet cunt? That would certainly be much better.

Her gardener was certainly not much help. His eyes were closed tight, shutting out the world, savoring the ministrations of his newly found fuck. She was on her own.

Quickly, deftly, without missing a single stroke, she shifted one hand free and undid the zippers at the sides of her jeans. Down came the fashionable flap at the front and in went her eager fingers, seeking out that warm wet haven that was her hot cunt.

Languidly she worked her fingers around and about the juicy interior getting them all wet and sticky, soggy with the delicious puss juice that was already soaking her panties. Boy was she hot! How she wanted to leave her fingers right where they were. It felt so good to have something in her wonderful pussy again.

But she had to take care of her gardener's needs. So reluctantly she withdrew her wet fingers and grabbing his jumping flagpole to steady the thing, she pulled the skin all the way back and slowly applied her precious golden liquid lubricant. Now they were really one. Her cunt juice got his cock to moving even smoother through her hands. Nothing like natural lubricant. What she really needed was a bit more.

So once again her fingers anxiously sorted out her flaming juice box. In they went around and around, getting good and wet Good and wet for her gardener lover. Anything to please this first man in her life. Every time she moved her fingers around that juice box of hers, the walls and membranes seemed to be secreting even more of their precious fluid. No danger of a shortage there. No siree, there was more than enough of puss juice flowing through Lisa's tight glory hole that day.

Then she withdrew them, having to fight the feeling all the way. Her own cunt muscles were very reluctant to let go. They grabbed at her fingers wanting to keep them there, wanting her very talented fingers to satiate the want the need within her quivering quim organ.

This time she concentrated the lubricant on the ornamental knob of her gardener's flagpole. This, she realized, was where he was most sensitive to her ever-so-slightest touch. Even the slightest contact set the head to palpitating and jumping. And set the gardener to groaning and moaning deeper in his throat. So to the cock head she went with her new load of warm puss juice.

Lovingly she smeared the thick sticky liquid, starting first at the extreme tip, where a small slit appeared in the smooth knob. This was real sensitive, the gardener was twitching and shaking like a man in the grips of a severe fever. But he was only in the well-accomplished hands of Lisa. From the tip, she worked the juice back to the crown, which caused more jumping and twitching on the gardener's part, and finally to the supersensitive area just where the head met the stick.

When she touched that part, the gardener must have jumped two feet in the air, groaning all the while. She really had his number.

"Baby, baby, what you do to me? I gonna be coming my brains out if you keep that up. Here," he said thrusting his pelvis up at her and moving his cock away from those expert hands for a moment, "Go to work on my nuts, little jailbait. Show my nuts that you appreciate them too. But gently, baby, gently."

She didn't want to leave his cock, now that she had the hang of it so well. In all truth, she was just beginning to discover how truly delicately sensitive the whole cock would be under the right conditions. She was cock happy, as delighted and contented as a small child with a new puppy.

That was before she saw the gardener's nuts. Balls, balls, balls! Big balls hanging in their own sac under his distended cock. Whereas she had previously passed over them in her anxiety to concentrate on the cock, now she was looking at them for the first time.

She reached out a hand experimentally to touch them. They too were alive and jumping. This was marvelous. She cupped them in the palm of her hand. This pair of come factories were alive and kicking, moving as she squeezed then gently, playing with them, rolling them around in their loose sacks, watching them hang low in their own fold of skin. She had discovered another very enjoyable game. She could play with cock and nuts all the day long. There was no way this game could ever get boring. Not in a million years. Not as long as she lived. This was too exciting.

She scratched them lightly with her fingernails and jiggled them around. Squeezed them up to the top of the sack until they were on either side of cock, then let them fall again to the bottom of the sack. She thoroughly explored all possibilities, and judging from the moans and groans coming from the gardener, he was having as much pleasure as when she concentrated on his cock. This made her feel very proud of herself. In no time flat, cock and balls were no longer the deep mysteries that they were before.

How else could she please him? She was very anxious to move on to other games, intent on making up for all the lost time.

"Is this O.K.? I mean, am I doing everything right?" she asked in that little-girl-lost voice of pure innocence. "Is there anything else that I can do to please you? Anything at all?"

Slowly he opened his eyes and stared at her as if she was so very far away, his face very serious and grave, eyes unblinking. What's come over him? she thought. I really believed he was enjoying this action. She continued to hold on to his cock and nuts. Nothing could pry her loose from these two toys. Not for a long time.

Then very slowly, with a voice that seemed to come from way down in his stomach, heavy and choking, he whispered, "Yes, my fine little fuck, there is one thing... One thing you can do."

This quieted any alarm she felt and once again she was her most cooperative self. "Name it," she said relieved, "Anything. Fm all yours. Just name it, fella."

He spun into action. Gently and as easily as if she were a postage stamp, he lifted her up and seated her on one of the plant benches. She was amazed at how deftly those large fingers moved, but before she could say "Jack Robinson" he had succeeded in stripping her jeans and her panties off. All in one beautiful action, her bare ass smarting against the rough lumber of the work bench.

His large hands shot up under the expensive cashmere sweater pushing her back until she rested on propped elbows. Next he brought both legs up, planting her delicate heels on the bench. This guy certainly knows what he's doing, she thought. Some experience!

Now her thirsty, trickling twat lay exposed, her legs wide open in a pair of inverted Vs on either side. She looked down at her own muff. Her muff which was now about to be given the treat of its life. The soft, pale-blond hair covering the mound was glistening with her own puss juice. Like dew-drops on the grass in the early morning, she thought. She just knew that her proud pussy was fully prepared for any eventualities. That's the way she liked it.

Like a flash, he was on her. Without any warning burying his head in her crotch, and sliding his long wet tongue deep into the delicate folds of her sweet tight pussy as far as her cherry membrane would allow. Heaven mixed with Hell. Sheer delight coupled with agonizing aching. The shock of this contact racked her body as if she was being buffeted by some strong whirlwind, caught in a hurricane of confusion. It felt soooo great. Total rapture flowing from her fiery furnace cunt.

All she wanted to do was get away from that feeling. It was more than she could handle without fainting. Too much for her inexperienced mind to fathom. But his great big rough hands held her fast They grabbed her titties as if they were two handles, forcing her back against the rough bench. There was no escape from this divine torture. No hiding place from his tongue.

Try as she might, her small hands made no impression on his massive shoulders. She pushed and shoved, digging her fingernails deep in the humped-up muscles, but to no avail. She was pinned to the bench, his skillful tongue darting in and out of her cunt, sliding back and forth, in and out of her aching hole in long graceful strides, each time bringing more heavenly pleasure than the last one. How could she stand so much pleasure?

She squirmed and screamed, desperate now for some relief from this new sensuous gratification. She pulled at his hair, trying in vain to push his head away from between her legs. Nothing worked. He was too strong for her. Her voice reduced to whispering, she cried out to him to...

"Aaaahhhhh" her throat wailed, "Aaaahhhh! Aaaaahhhhh!" She was gasping for breath, sucking the hot air greedily into her lungs. "Aaaahhhh!" Seeking release from that pent-up feeling inside. "Aaaahhhhh!" Still the gardener pressed on, his tongue like a live snake plunging in and out of her kip, driving her out of her mind. How could she have ever dreamed that it would be like this! Like going to heaven without even dying! All the energy draining from her body. Wanting him to stop, NO! Not to stop. She didn't know anymore, she was so confused. Confused and drained of all her energy. With only her insatiable puss responding to that marvelously talented tongue battering her soft membranes. She was almost fainting with the pure rapture, delight a thousand times a thousand and over again filling every pore in her body. How could she explain this to her friends at school? Would they understand? A plant fell off the bench. No one paid any attention, so lost were they in their own little world of love, the thrill of her lifetime. And still his tongue went on, sucking and slurping, licking up everything in its path, cleaning her bush like a cat licking its fur, caressing her soft inner cunt muscles like a gentle breeze. "Aaaahhhhh!" Oh God, she was coming again. How many times was this already. Four? Five? Six? She had lost count. Who could keep score under such conditions? "Aaaaaahhhh!" Before she was desperately trying to get this cunt-sucking maniac away from her throbbing pussy. Now both hands were buried in his hair, pulling that incredible cunt-slurping machine closer, making sure it did not escape, making sure it remained right there between her legs making her come time and time again. Let the good times roll. Now she was sweating like a horse herself, her hair damp, her sweater, wet in spots. Still she felt great. Exhausted and satisfied and great. It wasn't every day you could run into something like this gardener. He was definitely a collector's item. And right now, she was doing all the collecting necessary.

As for her cunt-cleaning machine, he had his cock well in hand, amused by the reaction of this little sexpot he so enjoyed working on. For him there was nothing else that compared with going down on a nice clean young-as-possible cunt. A virgin cunt was even better; it was as if he was exploring previously uncharted territory, leaving his stamp, his mark where no one else had ever been before. Sure no matter what followed, she'd always remember him, for he was the first to arouse that passion in her young ripe body. This one was so different. A bit hotter, more anxious than the others, but one tongue up between the legs, into the warm inside of her soft cunt, a bit of resistance initially and then its all "open sesame" the cunt flew open so he could almost get his whole face into it. It was only when she grabbed his hair, pulling him more into it, that he began jacking himself off slowly. All in a day's work. And what a way to spend the day! If they'd met under different circumstances, then he'd really be able to show her how much he knew. He'd really be able to pleasure that pussy. And she'd love it too. Every last drop of it

But she was coming again. "Aaaaahhhh!" Her entire body was slowly dissolving, the gardener in a fog at her cunt, slowly stroking away at his big dong while his tongue lapped up the love juices flowing from her cunt, furiously licking at the in-sides of her thighs, lapping up every last bit ot the sweet liquid, a honey bee sucking on her natural nectar. "Aaaaahhhhh!" She could feel the absolute power of the man flowing through his body as the casual strokes built up to a full furious electric jackhammer, his hand skimming over the surface of his cock with a pounding insistence. He was appreaching his climax, she knew it instinctively, no one had to tell her. And "Aaaaahhhhh!" she was coming again too. The one remaining hand on her tits bruising and massaging them, that felt good, sending waves of pleasure down her body to meet the ones coming up from her cunt. All over her body tingled. A little drained and exhausted, but in superb rapturous excitement. Faster and faster he pumped his cock with a blind fury, the dilated cockhead popping in and out, in and out of his massive fist, faster, faster, faster, now you see it now you don't, faster, faster, faster, he was just on the verge of coming, faster, faster, faster... "Lisa! Lisa! Lisa, where are you?" Just when he was about to come, the voice of one of the maids, getting closer and closer. "Lisa, your Daddy's on the phone! He wants to talk to you! Lisa! Lisa!"

So Daddy wanted to talk to her. So what! She was getting something now that Daddy never wanted to give her. Oh! how she wanted him to do the things that this gardener was doing so expertly. But the silly goat of a man never caught on, or if her Daddy ever did, never showed the slightest interest in her that way. Now she had to go outside the family for it. And she was loving every single moment of the whole exercise. So fuck Daddy! Let him wait.

But the maid was insistent. "Lisa! Lisa! Where are you?" The interference was driving Lisa crazy. Why at this moment! she thought. Why couldn't they leave her in peace for five more minutes. That was all the time they needed. Was that too much to ask? Now she was quite angry, her eyes blazing with the fire from her cunt. Was there no privacy in this world?

But the gardener didn't seem to hear anything. He was too intently working on himself with his hand and on her succulent split with his face. It wouldn't do for the maid to find them in that position at all. There would be hell to pay. Especially this maid. She had been with the family even before Lisa was born, long before the big money started rolling in. She'd watched the little girl grow before her very eyes and loved Lisa more than she did her own children. Anybody but this maid!

Since her mother and brother had died in that terrible car accident, the poor woman had watched over Lisa like a guardian angel. Never wanting her father to send her away to those exclusive schools in Europe. Always wanting to keep her close. Lisa was sure if the old woman walked in on them now, she'd die right there. On the spot. Anything but this!

But she was in the throes of ecstasy. A dam of her own love juice building up inside her pussy walls and membranes. What could she do? It was cutting it close, but the devil take the hindmost. The voice was getting closer and closer. So was she. So was the gardener. "Aaaaggghhhhh!" There it was. That must have been the seventh or eighth time, and each time better than the last. Just then, too, she felt the gardener's muscles contract violently, the hand on her tit squeezing and pumping until it hurt her. He'd come too. Mission accomplished.

Immediately, he sprang to life, while she still lay in an exhausted near-faint from the sheer pleasure of it all, quickly hitching up his work pants, tucking his still-throbbing cock out of the way, wiping all traces of her savory puss juice from his moustache. Still she found it difficult to move. Her body was too drained; she just lay there propped up on her elbows.

Closer and closer came the voice. Just when she was about to go into an hysterical tirade against the well-meaning maid, the gardener helped her to her feet and into her boots, cunt still half-soaked with the wonderful man's spittle and her own juice. She knew the grounds better than the back of her hand. There was no time to get into both her panties and her jeans, so she just stuffed the panties into her sweater, and with the gardener's assistance, managed to get both legs into the jeans. Just before she pulled it all the way up, he doubled over and kissed her muff. "Just saying thanks and good-bye," he laughed, spinning her around suddenly and sticking his long, wet, and talented tongue halfway up her tight rosebud of an asshole. Wow! The shock of that absolutely delicious tingling tongue shook her body anew. Was there no end to the things he could do with his tongue? If that nosy maid hadn't interfered, she certainly would have found out. One thing was fixed in Lisa's mind as she stepped out the back door of the potting shed-tomorrow she'd most certainly be back for more. That gardener was worth his weight in pure gold. He was talented.

As she strode away from the scene of her suck-fest, she heard him explaining to the maid, "No, ma'am. No one's been here all day but me. I'll be sure if I see her to let her-know. What did you say she looked like?" Lisa knew her gardener lover was taking up the old woman's time, engaging her in conversation while Lisa got clean away. He was clever too, she thought.

Working her way back to the house, her asshole remained on fire. One thing for sure, she'd never paid it much attention before; it was just another part of her body, with its own functions and, sure she cleaned it meticulously, as she did every other part of her body. But who could've guessed that her asshole would turn out to be so sensitive to the right touch? Begging your pardon, tongue, for it was with his tongue that her gardener boyfriend had so very lovingly and expertly paid attention to her, to her now very alert and tingling asshole.

In so doing, he had opened up a whole new avenue of self-exploration to her already very efficient fingers. This was like discovering a new toy on a rainy day. It would keep her occupied for days on end, rainy or not. What would her friends in school say to that, she wondered. None of them had ever reported a sensuous asshole before. But that didn't mean that such a thing didn't exist

And what would her father would say and do if he ever caught on to that little torrid session in the potting shed? That would be a horse of another color altogether.

Not only would he be shocked at the thought of his daughter cat-spraddled on a plant bench, with a man lapping up all her delicious cunt juice while furiously jacking himself to kingdom come, but the fact that the man was just a gardener. That would be enough to trigger a heart attack

Always he sought to make her aware that his money meant that she would have only the best of everything. She was better than the rest of the world, except for the small clique who hovered in Malibu or Beverly Hills and such. Those were her social equals, those were her friends. His hard work and resultant money had made sure of that. And since her mother and brother died, the old man was even more socially conscious.

A gardener! She could almost hear her Daddy say the words, as she slipped noiselessly into the house, and up to her room.