Chapter 1
Over the next few years, Jane did nothing drastic. She read a lot, drank considerably, golfed, lazed in the sun and generally accustomed herself to a life of comfortable boredom.
She still wasn't a candidate for sainthood, by any means, but her frantic chase for sexual thrills had slowed to the point where she was no worse than many other daughters of the idle rich who spent much of their time at the country club.
On this particular morning, she got up at about ten, lazed in a warm tub for a while, then took a cup of coffee back to her room. Dropping her robe to the floor, she prepared to dress. As she saw herself in the full-length mirror, she stopped to take inventory.
Turning from side to side and moving her feet until she found just the right pose, she admired her nude body. Her hands came up to cup the full breasts. She seemed relieved to see that they showed no sign of sag. She was a forty-D, but the breasts rode high and firm much as her fourteen-year-old nubbins had done.
Her mind went back over the years, remembering how she had checked the budding breasts impatiently each day looking for the miracle of growth overnight. Now, at twenty, she could be satisfied with them. As she toyed with rich, ripe globes, it became more than just an inventory. Her fingers pinched at the rosebud nipples. She felt them harden and thrust out. She thought of some of the hungry male mouths which had caused the same quick growth and in doing so, she felt the fires burn and spread.
Her hands slid down along her sides, over the trim waist and over the flaring swell of hips and buttocks. Here, too, she found the same pleasing fullness and firmness. Her hands thrilled at the silkiness of her own creamy skin. She moved them down to feel the white silk of her thighs. Her legs were long, beautifully curved, deliciously fleshed.
Her hands slid up over the warm inner thighs until they met at a new and greater warmth. They lingered there for a moment. Her fingers began to probe as if with a will of their own. She stopped them suddenly. Oh, no, she thought, not this morning too. She had gone to sleep that way the night before, but it obviously had not been enough to quench the fires.
Moving to the window, she saw the Japanese gardener working among the shrubs outside. She stood there naked and watched as his head raised, his eyes moving until they stopped at her window. She turned her body from side to side, making sure that he could see the full panorama of her feminine charms.
She saw the lined, weather-beaten Oriental face, usually so impassive, light up .He was so appreciative of these surprise goodies. He was the only member of the household staff on whom she ever bestowed her favors now and he received them only because it seemed to make him so happy. She loved to watch the way his eyes gleamed with child-like happiness as she raised her dress and invited him to remove her panties.
Jane had given him a huge thrill standing before her window. She decided to hurry out to the coach house and make his day really complete. She dressed hurriedly, remembering that she would be playing golf later. Over her bra and panties, she slipped on a blouse and skirt.
Three minutes later, she walked into the coach house and stood with the door held open. Her warm smile was a lovely invitation to the man who crouched behind the shrubbery, his gentle hands moving the rich, dark soil.
Jane watched as he stood, shook the soil from his hands, rubbed them on his trousers and walked to her. As he approached, she tore off the blouse and moved to strip the skirt down her legs. She had not planned it this way, but now she decided she wanted to be naked.
Her bra had been tossed aside and she was bending to peel the clinging panties down her thighs as he reached her. He stared in obvious fascination. His eyes moved from the pink and white and tan of her nude form to his soil covered hands. He turned to hurry to the sink to wash them. She reached for him and stopped him.
Wordlessly, she took his hands and placed them on her body. With gentle, insinuating movements, she indicated that she wanted him to move his hands all over her; wanted to feel the rich, chafing soil on her sensitive skin. He understood. One work-hardened, soil-covered hand clasped a buttock, the other cupped a milky-white breast.
Jane saw the brownish streaks of soil on the whitness of her skin. It held a wildly erotic spell for her. Her body writhed under his seeking hands. Despite their hardness, they were gentle, tender. They carried her to a peak of arousal that could not be sustained.
She fell to the couch. Her full breasts heaved, the pink nipples seemed to wink a lovely invitation, her long, lovely legs waved in invitation to embrace, her smooth thighs parted in revelation of erotic desire. He came to her quickly. Their bodies met, blended, rocked, heaved and fell into the utter release of physical satisfaction.
Jane got up and dressed then. She felt better than she had in a long time. She was buttoning her blouse when she saw Bunny hurrying toward the coach house. There was no time to escape, so she dropped down behind a pile of discarded lawn furniture. She wasn't afraid of her mother any longer, she had grown out of that long ago. She was concerned, though, about causing trouble for the gardener. She knew that if Bunny was coming in search of what she thought she was, he would have trouble enough.
It soon became obvious that her hunch was right. Bunny held her skirt high over her girdle as she walked into the room. In a minute, she was twisting out of the tight confinement of elastic and lace. She knelt on the rough, cold floor, her face buried in the seat of the chair, her big behind twisting and writhing. She reminded Jane of a demanding bitch in heat.
Jane watched as the gardener knelt behind the woman, lowered his trousers and tried manfully to meet her demands. It was obvious that he was not going to make it. Jane wanted to rush out from her hiding place and slap the fat, white buttocks, wanted to take the garden trowel beside her and push it into Bunny's obscene wanting. Here, Bunny, she would say as she drove it hard ahead, if this doesn't do the trick, try the other end. She knew she wouldn't though, because she didn't want to cause trouble for him. Instead, she crept quietly out of the room. She saw the man's hand move between the fat buttocks, reach between the parted, quivering thighs. He's an enterprising fellow, Jane thought, he'll find a way to meet the demands of the day.
She went back to the house for another quick bath. Dressed again and feeling delightfully relaxed, she walked to her car. She planned an easy drive to the country club and a game of golf.
As the big car gunned out of the driveway into the warm sunlight of the wooded road, it seemed like a pleasant day for a drive along the quiet back roads to the club. The mechanism whirred as the top rolled down, the warm sun bore in on her, the wind blew her hair. Life was very beautiful today. She tried to feel shame about what she had done in the coach house, but she remembered the look of sheer delight on the man's face and just couldn't find regret or shame in her. She would just enjoy the drive.
Jane could hardly have known that her day had already been planned for her. It would not be nearly as pleasant as she had planned. She was about to find out about that.
As she came out of the turn and moved into the straightaway between the tall pines, she saw the car stalled in the middle of the narrow road ahead. She hit her brakes, stopped, and got out to see what was wrong.