2 comments/ 14366 views/ 3 favorites The Horny Horticulturist By: SandraMustard This story is not entirely true. For one thing, he wasn't actually a Horticulturist. ***** I stopped at Home Depot on the return portion of my bike ride. I wanted to pick up some sort of pesticide to kill whatever was attacking my flowers. Just that morning, I had spotted an entire stalk of one Hibiscus plant withered and dying. After locking my bike, I strode into the garden area. I was wearing a white sports bra under a semi-transparent sleeveless blouse and black Lycra cycling shorts. Even with panties, the combination of riding a bike and the tight Lycra pushed everything into my slit. I didn't know it at first, but my crotch would have made a dromedary envious. I found the shelf that offered various powders and sprays and begun reading labels. A fifty-ish gentleman walked up and offered assistance. Turning toward him, his eyes did a little jerk as if they wanted to look elsewhere but didn't want to get caught. As I spoke to him, his eyes kept a glassy stare centered on my eyes but I suspect he was looking me over with peripheral vision. Of course, I am familiar with this game. I turned my head toward the shelf while mentioning a product there. Using my peripheral vision, I saw him look down at my crotch. I can't see my own vulva while standing because of a slight belly, but I didn't need to see to know. Feeling fabric wedged in my slit front to back, I could do nothing about it short of openly pulling the wedgie out. I studied the list of insects killed by the dust product I held. Leaning my pelvis out as I stood, I gave the helpful man a long moment to study my anatomy. He had me describe the plant's appearance. From that, he presumed I had spider mites and the dust was the best product. I gave him a couple of more seconds to look, figuring the female equivalent of bulge-flashing by me was about to end. When I looked up at him, I caught him dead to rights staring at my shorts. He made no effort to hide his observation. His gaze rose slowly, focusing on my chest a moment, then looked silently in my eyes. He changed the game when he spoke. "I can identify the pest that's attacking your Hibiscus for you. I get off at three and I can stop by." Inviting himself to my home shocked me. The possibilities intrigued me enough to give him an opportunity to put the make on me. I gave him my address. With an hour to ride the half-mile home and shower, I had time to plan a little show for him. When I got home, I told my husband about the visitor coming so he could figure out how he could watch. All my plants are on and around our front patio so I would be outside with the horticulturist. Jack could secretly watch through the front window blinds, literally over our shoulders. When I came out of the shower, he advised me that he had two plans to record any mischief I got into with the man. The first was just a matter of shooting a video through the window with my smart phone. The second would have to happen indoors but that would offer greater privacy. He turned on his computer's web cam that happened to cover most of our living room but minimized the window. If I could entice the visitor to come inside, all I had to do was keep the action in the camera's field of view. Jack could see the living room from the garage door entrance and watch the scene live. He even thought of a signal I could give. He would record through the blinds until I knew I was going to invite the man in. If I bumped the window with my hand, apparently accidental but actually a purposeful knock, he would retreat to the garage. I put my wallet on the end table centered in the field of view so I could use the pretense of offering a tip to position us there, too. Jumping back into the shower to stay wet, I let Jack watch for his arrival. When a man in the obvious company vest pulled up, Jack called out then hid in the other bedroom. I put my beach cover-up on without drying my skin, allowing it to cling to me and have some translucence. I answered the knock at the door, rubbing a towel against my dripping hair. His eyes traveled down and up my body as he greeted me. I padded out onto the concrete apron in my bare feet, pulling the door closed behind me. The horticulturist and I faced each other in the narrow space. My eyes caught the blinds parting behind him just enough for my phone's camera aperture to peek through. Seeing that, I started my performance. Bending over so my dress would fall away from my hanging breasts, I pointed out the dying foliage. The horticulturist leaned in to inspect ... something. I couldn't see his eyes but his head position should have afforded him a clear view of my naked tits. Three times I displayed them; three times he leaned. He told me it was definitely spider mites. Warning of the toxicity of the dust, he pulled rubber gloves out of his vest pocket to administer to my plant himself. I bent at my waist to move other plants aside, providing an opportunity to see my furry clamshell no man could resist. When I straightened to watch him cut away dead leaves and then sprinkle the powder, I could see an obvious tent in his pants. His hard cock was pointing straight out against his zipper flap, not allowing any outline definition. He asked if he could wash his hands even though he wore the gloves. I turned around, swinging my hand out to bump the window, then stalled a moment to give Jack time to retreat by gathering the clippings. Entering our home first, I glimpsed the garage door closing just in time. I led my admirer across the living room to the kitchen sink where I tossed the clippings down the disposal. He rinsed off his gloves before removing them then used hand soap to wash his hands. I handed him a dishtowel from the drawer to dry his hands. He faced me so I could see his aroused state. Inviting him to follow me back into the living room, I bent at my waist over my wallet and began to rummage for a few bills. Because I had my bare ass stuck in the air in front of him, I was not surprised to feel his fingers touch the back of my thigh and slide up to my vulva. Without complaint from me, he pushed two fingers through my wet labial folds and into my vagina. I squirmed a little as he rooted around inside but it wasn't an entirely pleasant contact. His calloused finger and rough fingernails hurt me so I pulled away. Without speaking, I knelt in front of him and undid his pants. His hard cock pushed his white jockeys out. When I pulled down his underwear, a short but eager penis stretched horizontal from a forest of pubic hair. I grimaced at the thought of hair in my mouth but took him into my mouth anyway. Luckily, the horny horticulturist was so turned on that rather simple sucking got him off in hardly more than a minute. Aware of the web cam angle, I made sure we were side on to record the blowjob but knew Jack had a poor angle from the garage door. When he came, I put space between his cock and my mouth, hoping to catch his spurts on video. None of his spunk missed my mouth and I swallowed his load without difficulty. The garden center man lifted me by the armpits and guided me back onto the couch. Suspecting he wanted to fuck me, I wasn't motivated to comply so I was about to forbid the act when he dropped to his knees between my legs. Well, cunnilingus was acceptable, I decided. I had high expectations when the horticulturist spread my cunny lips to examine my womanly orchid. When he finally put his wet weasel on my clit, his technique left me wanting. All he provided was a steady wiggle on the dome of my clit. I managed to shudder through two mild orgasms despite his boring boring in my sex. He stood up and grabbed my legs. Starting to swing my body around to lie on the couch, I told him to stop right there. "I'm ready to go again. Let's finish this," he suggested. "Sorry, but oral is all you get with me." "What are you talking about? How can you deny me after doing what we did?" "By saying no. No means no more. It's time for you to leave." "What, you want me to take it by force? Is that it?" "Don't even think about trying to rape me. Get out or I will call my husband." He gave a short laugh. "Ha! Somehow, I don't believe you." "Jack!" I called out. The horticulturist turned white and jumped back when the door swung open and he saw a man twice his weight charging toward him. "Get your pants on and get out!" my husband bellowed. He scampered out quickly, forgetting to take the ten dollar tip I had given him. * * * * * The smart phone video was a bust. Taken at bad angle through glass and screening, the glass ruined the auto-focus such that the video was blurry silhouettes in vague movements. It showed him leaning when I did but we could not be certain where his eyes were looking. The video did catch him ducking behind me to look under my dress when I bent over but it was shadowy and fleeting. I deleted the video so it won't be backed up on Apple's iCloud. The web cam video is quite clear about the sexual act it captured for our viewing pleasure. Jack likes to watch it while I suck his cock. He has taken a freeze-shot of the moment a rope of cum flies into my mouth. The said video better never appear on the inter-web or my husband will be mentioned in the same breath as John Wayne Bobbitt.