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Gardening at Mrs Chesters

By: schoolmrs



Jonathan or 'little Jonny' as he was affectionately known as, even though he was now eighteen, was on holidays from college and desperate to earn some cash. As it happens his mother had been chatting to Dorothy Chester recently and she started to describe the plans she had for improvement of the big garden at the Chester family home. 

When she mentioned needing some help to get started his mother immediately thought of Jonny's need to earn as well as her desire to get him out of the house from under her feet. There was the little matter of getting over from their home some eight miles away, but it was Spring, the days were getting longer and he was quite happy to start and end the day with a cycle ride. It would help with his general fitness too she thought, and reluctantly, he agreed.

He arrived at 9.30 am at the Chester house on the Wednesday for his first day's work. He turned up the front path, dismounted and locked up his bike by the front door. As he approached the door bell to the house, the inner porch door opened and a smiling Dorothy Chester came out. 

She leant across to open the outer door. He knew her, but not very well. 

"Hello Jonathan," she said. "How was your ride?" 

"Oh not bad," he mumbled in his teenage way. "It took about fifty minutes." 

"That's quick it's quite a way isn't it?" She asked.

He entered the hallway and closed the inner door behind him. 

"Not really, I like to keep my speed up", looking around the room and at Mrs. Chester. 

Dorothy glanced at the lad, small for his age but nearly as tall as her, lithe, slim and fit as far as she could tell. 

"Well you look like a fairly athletic young man to me," she said, smiling again.

She strode into the kitchen. Jonathan was dressed in his proper road cycling gear, polyester compound t shirt, shorts and short socks all light yellow with black cycle shorts. 

"Do you have some gardening clothes with you?" She asked him.

"Oh I knew there was something I had forgotten to bring," he said in anguished tones.

Dorothy smiled. "Typical teenage boy," she thought. "Airhead and unable to concentrate on more than one thing at once."

"Not to worry you can borrow some of the boys' old clothes, I am sure they will have something that will fit you. I will have a look upstairs. What would you like to drink?" She asked.

"Some juice would be good," he said enthusiastically. 

"Alright well help yourself from the fridge. Now what size are you?" She asked as she was leaving the kitchen. She glanced up and down at him.

"Thirty inch waist I think." 

"What about your chest?"

"Thirty- six may be," he guessed.

"I will go and find something for you," she said. She glanced again up and down his figure and went upstairs whilst he gulped back the juice.

Upstairs, in the boys' clothes' wardrobes she took a look and returned to him in the kitchen in a couple of minutes with a long sleeved shirt and shorts.

"I expect you might get warm so you will probably find these the most comfortable. You can change up in our room or the bathroom." 

Jonathan downed his drink and picking up the clothes went upstairs. He couldn't find the bathroom so went into the parents' bedroom. There was a nice perfumed smell. He started to strip off and glanced around the room. There were two large framed pictures of her and her husband on the wall. They looked as though they had been taken on a romantic weekend. Both were in black and white with stark lighting. He found himself drawn to the individual picture of Dorothy. She was leaning on a low chair. Forearms straight, breasts pinched between her upper arms, she was leaning over and looking up directly at the photographer, directly at Jonathan. 

Her arms were half bared but her breasts were fully covered apart from a pear drop opening in her fluffy wool top. The space revealed a smooth round pair of orbs. She had a thin leather strap around one wrist with a lady's watch on it and a pair of loose metal bangles around the other. He looked down a little and caught the faintest trace of a rise towards the end of each breast, just a tiny hillock in the fluff of her pullover top. He assumed it indicated an erect nipple underneath. He realized then that in the picture she can't have been wearing any support, but that by even the modest size of the hill in such a fluffy top she must have some bullet pointed boobs. 

He looked down at himself and saw that he was getting hard. God that was the last thing he had ever thought about his mum's friend, Mrs. Chester. She must be in her middle forties and he was not long eighteen. 

He dismissed the thought and dressed in the clothes she had left for him. The shorts were a twenty-eight inch waist and the shirt medium sized, but it seemed shrunken. About the only thing that was big enough was the pair of socks which he pulled up to his knees to protect his legs from any nettles or thorns in the garden. He realized then that he couldn't fit his underwear under the shorts and still move if he was working, so he simply pulled the shorts on alone. They were simple shorts, with no internal 'net' to catch any stray elements if he happened to get aroused. 

As he left the room he fought the temptation to glance again up at the photograph. He lost. He glanced, and in his shorts, he felt a short rush of blood.

He descended the stairs and discovered that Dorothy was already in the garden. She was gloved and digging, and wearing a pair of close fitting jeans, an old mans shirt and rubber boots. 

"Ah there you are, did you find the bathroom alright, it's a bit of a maze up there?"

"No sorry, I went in your room and changed as you suggested."

"Oh that's fine too," she replied smiling at him.

He looked over at her digging, and saw the same leather strap, heard the same jangling bracelets as he had seen in the photograph. Then he noticed first one, then the other nipple straining against her top. She was clearly wearing a brassiere but such was their poke, he could still see their outline. He suddenly had a funny feeling between his thighs and realized that blood was again rushing to the area!

"Here give me a hand with this I could do with some muscle."

She smiled and leant back to allow Jonathan in to the space to tussle with one of several rocks in an old rockery. Now it was her turn to notice. Without realizing it she had chosen clothes for him that were highly suitable, not so much for the job in hand, but rather to show off his nice little smooth hard cyclist's body which she had never noticed before. She had only ever seen him in the background of conversations with his mother and rarely spent any time with him, let alone on his own. 

While he heaved she glanced down at his young developing arm muscles and those of his thighs. Those shorts were unfairly small. She smiled to herself as she noticed the back seam bury itself between the tight orbs of his firm bottom. The top was equally small, more in terms of its length, giving her views of his smooth midriff. This was quite an unexpected side to the job in hand and one Dorothy had never envisaged. 

She was in the kitchen when her friend called. It was Collett from the College. 

"Why don't you pop over later," suggested Dorothy. "I am rather tied up in the garden at the moment." 

"Sounds fun," said Collett, smiling at her end. 

"Oh nothing that exciting, I just have some help today. The son of a friend of mine, at the golf club, is earning some holiday money." 

"I see Dorothy. I will be round later to make sure that he has earned his day's wages!"

Dorothy looked up from the sink where she was putting away her washing up. Jon was leaning back on his spade. He had got a lot done and looked a little hot and bothered, a little red, a little sweaty. His golden downy forearms exposed, bared socks now slipped down to his ankles and wet hair plastered over his face. 

She tapped the window. 

"Would you like a drink?" she mouthed. He nodded. 

She wondered whether he would get hot enough to take his top off. She slipped upstairs and put away some washing and noticed that Jon had left his little heap of cycling gear. "Typical untidy boy", she thought and picked them up, noticing that his underpants were also in the pile. She picked them up too and then quickly sniffed the crotch out of curiosity. She could smell sweaty boy mixed up with some cheap teenage body deodorant in it somewhere. They looked fairly new. They were briefs but that was all she could tell. She couldn't see any sticky residues, not that she was looking for them of course.

Jon was heaving at another pile of rocks when she came back into the garden. The sun was out and it was hot. He had taken his top off. She had difficulty not staring at his smooth firm but coltish upper body. Small crisp nipples topped off a flawless chest and abs. She felt a flutter between her legs. 

"Gosh he was rather well turned out," she thought. 

"I wonder, can I use your bathroom?" He said, looking at his borrowed boots. 

Dorothy looked up and tore her eyes away from his chest. 

"If you slip your boots off you can use the downstairs cloakroom."

He went inside as she set out about planning the next task. 

She heard the flushing noise pretty much as she heard the front door bell go. It must be her friend Collett. 

Dorothy went to the front and smiled at her friend who was wearing a pastel shaded blouse and fawn slipover, with a string of pearls to her neck and tartan skirt below. 

"Hello Dorothy how is the garden and how is your helper coping with you and your changing mind?"

Dorothy laughed. "Come and see," she said.



The women moved to the kitchen and looked out. 

"Oh it's progressing well. Are you going to move the compost heaps too?" 

"I haven't decided yet, we have heaps of grass and other cuttings but they take ages to rot and I'm not sure I want to keep them anymore." 

Collett laughed. 

"Nonsense Dorothy you haven't been treating them properly, you need euric acid, lots of it." 

"Where do I get that from?" 

"Well a good source is urine but some is better than others. The best stuff is from teenagers, boys in particular, the hormonal mix is quite fantastic." 

Dorothy laughed. "Then I will need to get Jonathan to pee on it outside and I will have to bar him from using the bathroom." 

Jonathan passed slightly embarrassed, but not understanding the reference. 

"Hello", he said to the lady in Dot's kitchen. 

He went outside. 

"Is that your little helper Dorothy?" 

"Indeed." 

Collett thought for a moment. 

"You should get him to pee on it, he looks eighteen. His urine would be the best you can get. Ideally you could direct him on to the compost personally as he probably won't spread it around properly. To save the embarrassment get him to pee into a container and you can spray it properly and carefully later." 

Dorothy smiled. "Well I can only ask him I suppose." 

The women went out into the garden and observed the boy laboring and sweating. Dorothy wasn't the only woman watching without feeling a tiny bit aroused. 

"Even better ask him to pee into a bottle when he's home and bring it in with him to work!" 

Dorothy laughed, slightly embarrassed, but out of earshot of the boy. 

"I can't do that Collett." 

"Well the alternative here is to get hold of his member and direct the spray for him in person." 

They both giggled and both secretly wondered what that might be like. 

"I'll broach it before he goes home. Come inside now."

What neither realized was that Jonathan had just been in the cloakroom not just peeing but also masturbating. He had been thinking about the arty bedroom shot of Dorothy and added to it what he had seen of her in the garden. It was all he could do to avoid getting an erection in the shorts she had provided. He wasn't sure if he could do this job but he was certain he had a load to blow and fast. Dot had not noticed as Jon had turned away on his way to the cloakroom, just how prominent he was fast becoming. 

He slipped inside, his boots had been quickly tossed in the kitchen. He locked the door and yanking down his tight shorts released a veritable tower of power. His peeled back the plum head on his penis as it twanged into view. He gasped at its stiffness for which Dorothy was solely responsible. God he did not know what was turning him on, but he thought it must be something to do with Mrs. Chester, something he hadn't as a younger boy, noticed before. She was hot, but he couldn't work out how. 

He heard her at the front door as he slowly stretched his foreskin hard back and forth as quietly as he could. He tried not to breath loudly even though all he wanted to do was to moan with the tension. 

Then he noticed she had left her watch by the basin in the cloakroom he was standing in. He felt sure it would help. He grabbed it, wrapped the dark brown leather strap around his cock and balls and did it up, tight. His cock swelled as it fought the constriction of the strap that had so recently been around her left wrist. Nine or ten slow firm tugs later and he was squirting cum into the basin and shooting a couple of gobs on to the mirror above. No more than six feet away, on the other side of a thin door Dorothy had been greeting Collett. 

He was gasping and heaving, but trying so hard to be quiet in doing so. It was one of the biggest orgasms he had had for some months. He could hear the women chatting in the kitchen as he started mopping up. Finally, easing the last of the cream from his tip, he went back to the garden, through the kitchen, to work.

Later that day he felt something odd when he was cycling back home, but thought no more of it. 

When he went to take a shower he felt the constricting band again around his shaft and balls. He looked down and saw that it was Dorothy's wristwatch. He had forgotten to take it off. It felt snug, but as an old wind up one, he doubted it could survive in the shower. He therefore unbuckled and eased it off. 

It was only later when he was lathering up did he wonder how he would be able to explain its absence from her home.

He showered on.

His thoughts came back to the woman herself. Old enough to be his real aunt he tried to work out the clear effect she had on him. 

As he washed himself he thought back to a couple of times when he had chanced to be sat behind her in club meetings over the last year. As the speaker droned on he had taken to studying her back, the back of her head and neck. She had a very fine neck not fat, with quite delicate lightly toned skin, with a crop of fair hairs. Above was her close bobbed dark hairline flowing down to a loose necked top. It had been hot in the room during that boring meeting and his eyes dropped to her shoulders and then in turn to each armpit just visible under the shoulder line. 

She bent to pick up a book and he noted the tangle of dark hair sprouting and remembered wondering idly whether she had other sprouts elsewhere on her body. She had a little moustache and he could see dark short hairs on her forearms in the right light. She had that slightly imperious serious look that could put you in your place and a way of looking mildly disgusted whilst at the same time amused.

While he washed his musings reminded him again of the black and white pictures in their bedroom and the pearl drop view of the tops of her exposed breasts and thence to the fluffed tips. 

Nearing the end of his shower and with his thoughts coming together once more, he pulled back vigorously five more times, the last pull exposing the dark purple plum helmet of his young developing cock. In the shower he suddenly groaned quite audibly and shot jet upon jet of rich cream at the cubicle tiles. As he did so he wished she was watching him right now with her dirty look of disdained interest as he splashed the tiling and leant back gasping for air. He hadn't cum so hard for months.

End of part 1

Gardening at Mrs Chesters Ch. 02



He wasn't sure how she had convinced him to do it but now he was collecting his own pee in an old milk carton with a green screw on lid. The smell was terrible but over a couple of days he had not far off three pints of it. Trouble was that during the same period he had played with himself a lot. He had so much stuff in his head he had to get it out one way or another, but he was also careful to make his mess in kitchen roll not the container, he didn't want it floating around in his delivery to Mrs. Chester. 

By 9.30am two days later he was nearing her house and it was then that he remembered he had forgotten to bring her watch with him. He had found it helped each time he needed some 'relief' from the tension inside him, to take it and fix it tightly around himself at the last notch. He found that the thin leather bit in quite hard and somehow that helped. As he thought about it he realized her watch was probably hidden in his sock draw.

"Hello Jonathan, how was your ride today?" Smiled Dorothy cheerfully.

"I have a drink for you here if you want to go up and change?" 

"Did you bring your bottle?" 

She half expected him to have forgotten like most boys his age. They only seemed to be able to remember one thing at a time, so she was surprised and delighted when he produced it from a carrier bag in his rucksack. 

"Oh good. Leave it with me, run upstairs and change and you can use the bathroom or our bedroom again." 

Not even considering the bathroom Jon went directly to the bedroom and as soon as he entered the room his blue eyes went straight to her on the wall. He studied her face, her bobbed hair and then her neck and slowly dropped down the pear drop gap of her cleavage and all the time her eyes were staring back at him.

Anyway he was supposed to be changing but as he pulled off his cycle shorts he found them resistant to removal. The waistband had snagged on a quickly stiffening penis. They did come off but he then had to face pulling on the shorts she had supplied from the first day. Once again their size meant he had difficulty getting into them and by the time he did, he found under the watchful and unsmiling gaze of Dorothy on the wall, he was quite a handful.

Dot unscrewed the cap to the bottle of pee and carefully poured the contents into a small steel bucket in the outhouse. A strong smell of euric acid filled the air. She sighed and wrinkled her nose. She looked at the clear yellow liquid in the bucket. It smelt and looked fine for the job in hand. Then she noticed what looked like gobs of saliva or mucous suspended in it. On closer inspection however she realized what they were. She wondered if this were the remains of a session he had indulged in and that his pee had cleared out, but what must the main load have been like? She pulled a face at the thought. "Disgusting boy!" And what could have prompted such an outburst in any case?

Dot returned to the hallway and shouted up the stairs to Jonathan.

"If you were going to use the toilet please don't but instead come out here and I will explain what I would like you to do Jonathan". She went outside.

Jonathan emerged from the house in the same long sleeved shirt and shorts. 

"I will show you where I would like you to pee whilst you are working here, if you don't mind, now I know the secret to good composting from my friend and it seems you can supply an essential ingredient," she added smiling.

"I don't want a drop of your wonderful mixture wasted by flushing it down the toilet, I want it on here instead." 

And with that she led him to the bottom of the garden and to a large un-rotted pile of leaves and grass cuttings. 

"I would direct you personally but hardly think that's appropriate." She said smiling broadly. But then having just said those words she was already having difficulty not imagining her hand reaching inside and down the front of those shorts he was wearing. In her minds eye it was then with some difficulty, because she could see the shorts were a snug fit on him. Easing out a modest sized penis so that his urine could be most effectively directed in the garden would not be easy, but someone would have to do it.

In his head he had similar thoughts except that the penis was larger. He also imagined that whilst handling him she was gently easing the skin back from his head as he hardened. 

Neither of their thoughts was spoken of course. Instead Jonathan merely nodded and grunted seemingly reluctantly in reply to Dorothy, in his teenage way. 

"Ok" he added.

"Now I need you to tackle these small trees today they need a prune. They are Betula pubscens or downy birch." She explained to Jonathan turning to one side of the heap.

"And how fitting for this recently post pubescent lad to be dealing with." She thought to herself. She already had an idea for re-use of the cuttings. 

"The little whips would be most handy." She thought, but said, 

"Anyway I will leave you to it."

Jonathan picked up the cutters and set to. 

Sarah, Dorothy's neighbour called around. 

"I see you have a new helper in he garden, where-ever did you find him?" 

"Oh from my golf club." 

They were both in the kitchen now gazing out at the toiling boy as he bent to his task. Dorothy was again thinking of the birch whips he was pruning out, each around 4 to 5 ft long. She could hear the gentle slow swish of the tree cutting through the air and the resounding and satisfying smack as it contacted the thighs and perhaps the shorts around his bottom.

"Well when you've finished with him perhaps you can pass him on? I could do with some work on my front garden..." 

Dorothy sniggered at the double meaning. 

"So could she", she thought... a tangled mass of dark bristly hairs between her thighs. She wondered how she could enlist Jonathans help in such a task and in so doing also wondered at what really lay between his firm thighs. 

She glanced out again and almost by way of answer she caught sight of the front of his borrowed shorts and the bulge that lay within them. She could hardly believe that she was having such impure thoughts about this boy, the son of one of her friends at the club. So, to try and distract herself she immediately set out about some tasks in the kitchen.

For his part Jonathan felt the need to relieve himself and was about to start up the garden and inside to the cloakroom when he recalled the request he had received about peeing on the compost heap. He went behind the short fence, pulled down the front of the elasticated waistband and eased his now softened member out of confinement. He began to pee. 

Dorothy waved goodbye to Sarah and went quickly back inside and upstairs. In the bathroom she was about to use the WC at the back of the house when, glancing out of the clear glass pane, noticed Jonathan standing still, his head visible but his remainder hidden from view by the five foot fence at the bottom of her garden. He appeared to be concentrating. She remained watching, intrigued. She saw him glance down and could see his body shaking slightly as presumably he finished his peeing. He remained standing however and leaned slowly back and closed his eyes. He hadn't moved, stood stock still and appeared to be concentrating. 

"Oh my god," she thought. "Is he playing with himself?" 

She went quickly downstairs through the hall and in to the kitchen. She eased the kitchen door open, as quietly as she could and padded into the garden. She could still see the top of his head in the same place. She was going to creep up on him from the other side of the fence. Behind it on her side was the garden shed. She had to be quick and she had to be quiet. There was a slight wind which helped to cover the sound of her shoes on the stone flags. 

She slipped the shed door open and almost tripped over the garden fork propped up in there cursing under her breath. Taking a moment to compose herself, she took few breaths and considered what she was about to do. Should she, shouldn't she. It seemed inappropriate, underhand, and a little devious. She paused, took another breath and then moved steadily to the back of the shed where she happened to know there was a small knot hole. From it she guessed she could the whole of the vegetable patch, including the compost stack which was right by it and most importantly she simply had to see exactly what Jon was up to. 

Before his last visit his only 'inspirational' thoughts about Dorothy had been her neck her underarm tangle of hair, her imperious air and her bared, haired arms, all of which apparently 'did it' for him. Then he had spotted her dirty wall picture a couple of days back and more recently the fluffed nipples from her top when she was working in the garden. It wasn't much, but coupled with his raging coltish hormones, it was enough. He was easily roused and not easily deflated. The shorts she had mistakenly supplied him with had left him with little room for expansion but he hadn't made the connection yet. 

With these demands on his attention, it was out of desperation then that he had grabbed the opportunity of being alone in the garden with both hands, to pee and then to relieve the pressure in his already full balls. The dirty thoughts buzzing around his head and his hand motion meant he was nearing a point of release, but he still had to keep watch in case Dorothy came out of the house suddenly and caught him at play. He had to avoid that at all costs. It would have been beyond embarrassing.

It was not to be. Collett was stood outside the front door and was ringing the bell. Once, twice three times. Dorothy from her place in the shed couldn't hear. Jonathan from being in the garden could just about, but assumed that Dorothy would be down to answer it from inside. Collett could see Dot's car was in the drive and rang again.

"She must be around," thought Collett. 

After a sixth ring she thought she would take a stroll down the footpath that ran alongside the rear garden and see if through gaps in the hedge if she could spot Dorothy or perhaps that nice young man she had seen the day before working outside.

Dorothy was still in the shed and was now sat down on a metal bucket. She was leaning forward so that her fine cheek bone rested on the rough wood of the shed wall. She had been expecting a sight of delightful surprise but just seconds before, she heard a loud call over the side fence to the road from her friend Collett. 

"Damn it!" She thought.

Jonathan had been similarly alerted and in seconds his stiff penis had been forced back inside his straining shorts. 

"So close yet so far," he regretted. 

It throbbed and his balls hurt but he couldn't risk cumming in such circumstances. He had done very well to even stop himself exploding let alone getting it back inside under such pressure.

Before she quite reached her view hole Dot had to retreat from her vantage point and quickly and quietly crept back into the house. It was one thing for her friends son to be working for her, it was quite another for him to drop his shorts at a moments notice. It was of course completely unacceptable to her and her friends for her to watch him while he played and especially not to be found out watching.

Later when he had gone home just about the only thing she could think about was the two round orbs of his bottom. Firm, small, pert and captured in his shorts. That was apart of course from the lump in the front of the same shorts and the smaller pair of sub-divided orbs. She would have to work harder at getting them off him so she could see, let alone getting her hand inside them... but even before she completed the idea in her head, guilt got the better of her and she banished the thoughts.

End of part 2.



Gardening at Mrs Chesters Ch. 03



It was about a week later. Linda Crawley was on her way to see Dot about a Saturday event. At 42 Linda was a little younger than her friend. A tangled mass of short brown hair fell over her face. She was shorter and stouter, but was still attractive as a result of her fitness programme. Unlike Dorothy she was more sexually aware however. She could be cheeky on occasions, even when it was a little inappropriate. 

Motoring along the main road towards the town centre she found herself watching a cyclist ahead. It was a foul day, with driving wind and rain, but the cyclist was bowling along at high speed. As she approached from behind she was able to observe him at close quarter. 

"Nice body" She thought, as she followed along. 

She slowed slightly so as not to overtake him. 

"Lovely little bum, and those pumping legs." 

He must have been piling along at nearly thirty but he made it made it look effortless, his mop of floppy light brown hair streaked back by the rush of air. His position in front of her now meant she could look and drive safely. 

Although Linda was able to enjoy the view for a while, the long sound of a car horn from close behind brought her attention back to her driving. There was now a small queue of vehicles building. Reluctantly she indicated and passing the cyclist, picked up speed.

About a mile on, she approached the roundabout outside the town centre. The traffic slowed and began to back up. She dropped speed and stopped. She took a moment to glance up in her mirror to see if the boy was still on the main road, but there was just a large white van behind her car now. So it was to her delight when she looked across at her passenger side wing mirror and noticed him approaching quickly in the gap between the vehicles and the pavement. He was having to weave a little to get past, but was making gradual progress. 

Then as the car in front moved forward, Linda had an idea. She pulled her steering wheel down to the left and moved her car in towards the kerb. She looked around again and noticed the lad was slowing further. Then as the car in front of hers was turning left, she moved her car forward again and blocked his way. The bike drew up alongside her, close to the left hand side and he had to stop. He was right next to her car. 

She looked to her left again. All she could observe now were his bare forearms and right thigh about a foot from her passenger side window. His arms were stretched forward to grip the handle bar; his leg pulled up and ready to press down on his pedal. He was poised and taut. His skin was wet, smooth and slippery. A mixture she thought of rain and sweat. It almost shone n the light. He was clearly soaked through, but seemed unfazed by it. 

Then the lights in front changed to red. There was another surge of traffic on to the island from the right. The boy visibly relaxed, released his grip on the bars and leant back on his saddle. She turned again in his direction. She couldn't see much above his middle because of the height of the window. Then reaching down he pulled his top up to mop his face. That move delighted her. 

It was now clear he wore nothing underneath his sweatshirt. She was granted an unobstructed view of a flat smooth toned stomach. She noticed a slight trace of damp fuzzy hair above the top of his tight, black cycling shorts, at the front. 

"Gosh," she mused, 

"What I would give to touch that." 

She carried on staring whilst he wiped his face.

The lights changed again, but for Linda they changed too soon. Just as quickly he dropped the top down, leant forward on the bars and was ready to move off when she did. 

She looked again admiring the view.

"Mmmmmm." 

A sharp horn blast from the white van behind her, brought her attention back to her driving.

Disorientated by his looks she panicked. The car lurched forward and stalled. 

Another horn blast from white van man. 

Fumbling to restart her car, she was still half watching the cyclist as he eased pass her. She had the car moving again, but now only to see his tight swaying backside disappear into the distance, as he headed off for a side street. 

After a little recreational shopping Linda continued her journey. The weather had cleared and in a few minutes she arrived at Dorothy's. She was there for morning coffee and to discuss their plans at the club. 

She parked and collected a bag from the boot. Slamming it down she walked towards the front door. 

You might imagine then, her surprise, when, propped against the front wall was a jet black slim line bicycle. It looked familiar, very familiar. Then she realized it was the one she had seen earlier that day, the same one that the rather toothsome youth had been on, last seen peddling away on. 

"Hmmm," she thought. 

"What a strange thing. What a delightful co-incidence," she murmured to herself. 

She rang the bell. From the other side of the porch a grinning and apron wearing Dot appeared. 

"I've just put the scones in the oven, this morning. They should be ready soon" 

"Hello Dorothy, I see you've got a new bicycle." Said Linda indicating the bike.

"Oh no that's not mine I haven't ridden a bike in ages. That's Jonathans." 

Linda's mind was whirring. 

"Who was Jonathan?" She thought.

"You remember him? He's a lot bigger these days. Now he wants to earn some money." Dorothy explained.

Linda's mind hadn't stopped whizzing. Suddenly the penny dropped. She realized that the boy on the bike earlier had been none other than Jonathan, son of a mutual friend at the club. Now she was intrigued. She went in determined to steer the conversation around to him. 

The coffee was ready in the front living room and they sat down. 

"Sorry I'm late Dorothy only I was a bit pushed in the downpour, the weather has been so bad." 

She took a sip. 

"I know what you mean. The traffic in town has been horrendous. People stop walking and start driving everywhere as soon as there's a bit of rain." Said Dorothy

"Well yes, but not everyone. There are still a few hardy souls out in all weathers." She picked up a piece of shortbread.

She didn't admit that she had seen Jonathan but continued,

"There was a lad on a bike this morning in fact, even in those heavy showers. He looked like the weather didn't trouble him at all." Said Linda. 

"I do think there's something quite nice about driving along behind a fit young man on a bicycle; it sort of cheers me up." She added. 

"What does it do for him?" Asked Dorothy surprised by what she had said.

"Oh he doesn't know I'm there." Linda laughed. 

"Oh so you're stalking him?" 

"I suppose I am" She smiled dirtily. 

Dorothy wondered if it had been Jonathan whom she was referring to, though as she had never actually seen him cycling herself, she couldn't be sure. 

Linda sipped her coffee quietly, now a little embarrassed by her own admission. Dorothy spoke about her week.

After a while, the conversation paused.

"So where is your new helper?" Linda asked, having tried to suppress her interest in his whereabouts for the last fifteen minutes.

"He's out in the back garden now it's dried up a bit, come and see," said Dot. 

Linda moved quickly, but not too quickly so as to give herself away, to the kitchen and then the window. 

"What's he doing?" She asked, now moving to the sink and looking keenly out. 

"He's behind the compost heap. Its jolly fortunate he's available as you might be surprised to know how good young men's urine is to get a heap going."

"What? Is he peeing on it?" Asked Linda loudly. 

"Well not quite, but he is going to bring his urine in with him each day, so I can pour it on. He's started already." 

Linda rolled her eyes. 

"That's a new one. Another one of Dorothy's crazy ideas," she thought. 

"Can I pop out and see what's new?" Linda asked after few more minutes hoping that Jon would come into view. She was trying not to be too obvious that she simply wanted to lech. 

Dot didn't answer as she was now fiddling with the oven and the scones, so Linda just slipped outside. "Where was he?" she thought. 

It didn't take long. As she went through the rear garden gate her search was rewarded with a sight for sore eyes. A firm bottom presented itself to her view. It was contained, but only just, within tight white poly cotton shorts. Below it was the same pair of taught thighs she had seen earlier. With his feet placed about eighteen inches apart he was bending right over and pulling hard. Linda glanced down between his legs. There, just where she had hoped there would be, was a small but equally rewarding bulge. She sighed silently before speaking.

"Hello Jonathan. How are you?" She watched as he straightened and turned slowly. 

"Oh hello," he said surprised but he didn't recognize her from his travel earlier that day. 

He was gorgeously flustered. He stared at Linda and then sneezed hard, twice – a sure sign of being aroused she thought. 

"What are you up to?" 

"Uh err working on Aunty Dorothy's garden." 

I bet she would love him to work on her front garden too she thought to herself. She eyed him up and down. Perhaps a trim and some tidying? May be some watering and cleaning out with a wet tongue, his wet tongue - dirty cow. She smiled inwardly and wondered if anything had 'happened' yet. 

"So how long have you been doing this?" 

"About two weeks now." 

"Oh well I might have some work for you too. My front garden could do with working over." Something she knew to be true and as she said it she felt a little trickle through her bushy locks.

"I'd like to add a water feature too," and she almost laughed at her own cheekiness. God this young god was turning her on. 

"Show me what you've done then." 

He turned and started talking and pointing. He could have talked and pointed all he liked, but she wasn't listening to him. She was simply looking; at him. At this delicious, young man. She hadn't noticed him in his earlier years at the club, but he had definitely 'come of age'. He must be 18 or 19 plus by now. He was slim, but he was so fit. All that lovely cycling she supposed. She felt another gentle trickle of juice through her undergrowth. It was no good, she needed to go and mop up. 

"Well I'll leave you to it for now and let you get on." 

And then before she turned she was rewarded with the sight of him bending over once more.

"How is he getting on Linda?" Asked Dot as Linda came back inside. 

"Busy busy." She said smiling.

"I could do with some help at my place actually."

"Well hands off. You'll need to find your own gardener, mine is taken" Dot laughed. 

"I bet he is," thought Linda. She wondered if Dot's hand had found its way onto him yet. 

"And I have interest from another neighbour too," added Dot defensively.

Linda had to chuckle as she thought. 

"All these dirty middle aged women like herself trying to get their needs satisfied. None of them were really talking about gardening even if they didn't realize it themselves!"

linda visited the cloakroom to attend to herself and then both women went back to the front room. Linda brought out her folder and they began to study the details of the event that they were planning.

An hour passed. Linda heard the hall clock chime. 

"I expect Jonathan will be in need of sustenance." Said Dorothy looking to her bare left wrist.

"Oh do you have the time Linda, I've left my watch somewhere and I can't find it, I've never lost it for this long before."

"Don't worry we all have our 'senior' moments. Its just gone one."

Linda heard the back door open and a voice, Jon's, call out hopefully.

"Hello, Mrs Chester, hello?"

"I think its Jonathan calling," said Linda, fidgeting slightly and trying not to get up.

"Oh ok just bear with me a few minutes. I said I would get him some lunch. You can wait here Linda and take a look at my list. I won't be long."

Dorothy was up and out to the kitchen. Linda waited a couple of minutes more and then thinking of a suitable excuse, got up, and joined them.

Jonathan was sat on a high stool, his left leg up and his bare foot on the front edge. He rested his chin on both hands and they in turn were placed on his knee cap. He looked a little tired. He smelt and looked a bit sweaty, but neither women seemed bothered. Dorothy was bustling around making him a big sandwich. 

Linda entered the room.

"Hello, Jonathan" she said. 

He turned slightly and looking up at her nodded shyly, then he stared at the floor a bit embarrassed.

Linda looked at him and admired his lean form quickly, while she was unobserved and then wandered nonchalantly to the back windows again.

"Looks like the worker has been busy this morning." She added staring into the garden.

"Yeah well it's not too bad," he mumbled shyly.

He had only met her an hour or so ago, but there was something about Linda he found a bit intimidating. Although she was younger than Dorothy she didn't have the same shapely body. However she did have a sort of underlying, controlling, sexiness, in her manner and in her voice. He felt that if she gave him an instruction, he might have to follow it, whatever he thought. He would have to obey, whether he really wanted to or not. It made her attractive as he looked at her tangled hairstyle and thought about her chest.

Linda turned back to Jonathan and without hesitation, met his eyes. He looked away and down.

"Mmmm, so he had been watching her," she mused.

It was her turn to look down, but not away. Her eyes slipped slowly down his form. He was in the shirt and shorts Dot had supplied, sleeves rolled to his elbows to cool down, and shorts riding up his legs even more than when he was standing. 

He was very attractive Linda thought. He had dried out from the rain, so the sheen on his skin was more like sweat from his exertions. His skin was clear and surprisingly hairless, but she wasn't complaining. He had growing muscles in all the right places, and he had places in all the right places too. 

"He is quite something," she thought admiringly.

Her eyes dropped to his crotch again and lingered there naturally.

"And there is definitely something in there that needs further study."

She wondered not if, but when, that would happen. What Linda wanted, she usually got, sooner or later. She would have to take care not to scare him off though.

End of part 3



Gardening at Mrs Chesters Ch. 04



Sunday morning and Jon was just nearing the clubhouse. He was on his bike, in his cycling gear. He had hoped to get in early and combine exercise with the trip. But he was late. He slunk in through the side gate and dismounted. He had Dot's watch with him, and it was safe in his shorts and cinched up to give him a good feeling, whilst he cycled. He imagined it as Mrs. Chester's thumb and forefinger clasping him, constantly. 

He dismounted. There were two cars already there and one was Mrs. Chester's. He tried the back door, it was open and he entered. There was someone in the clubhouse kitchen, but he passed and went into the small side room to change. He closed the door. Whoever was in the kitchen was humming loudly, it sounded like Mrs Chester. He did need to return the watch, but was waiting for the right opportunity. 

He eased off his top and opened his cycle bag. He pulled out his carefully rolled dark blue trousers and white shirt. He was sweaty, but the shower in the main changing rooms was broken, he just pulled the shirt on. As he was buttoning it up someone approached the door and heard him inside. 

"Hello?" It was Dorothy. 

"Oh hello Mrs Chester." 

"Jonathan?" 

"Yes I was just changing, hold on." 

"Oh?" 

"Yes I came in on my bike. I will only be a minute." 

Dot's imagination went off... She wondered what she might have seen if she hadn't knocked. 

"Oh ok, only I need a couple of things from in there. Don't be long." 

He eased off his shorts, proper cyclists don't wear underwear, but that meant he needed to pack a set for when he changed, only as usual, he had forgotten to. He did however admire the watch clamped around his cock and balls. It was slackening a little so reaching down he cinched it up a hole. He pulled on his blue trousers - slim fit - bought a couple of years ago and reflected that he did need to get some more when he had earned some money, and when he remembered to of course. They were rather tight, but with no under pants he would have a little more 'breathing' space. 

He pushed his cycle clothes into his bag and slung it to one side. Now he had to go to the gents for a quick play, just so he could create a little more space in there; of course, no other reason. Having noticed the watch again and encountered her already, albeit the other side of a door, there can be no guesses who he would thinking about, while he busied himself.

Dorothy heard him leave the side room and came back. She saw his bag immediately. It was open. She paused, but couldn't resist a quick look. She reached in quickly and found his shorts still warm and sweaty from cycling. She picked them out and sniffed them inquisitively. They smelt of hot sweaty boy. Looking inside, there was no staining. This was becoming a habit she thought and smiled to herself. She put them back. 

The she focused on the work she had to do, to keep the clubhouse in order. She picked up the bucket and other cleaning materials from the cupboard in the corner of the room. She would start by giving the women's toilets a quick 'once over'. 

Jon was busy in the closet, cock and balls now out of the tight flies, in his trousers. He was busy playing with thoughts of Mrs. Chester and now Mrs. Crawley too. He knew her probably less than Dorothy, but she seemed genuinely interested in him, for a first time. He seemed to be getting older and becoming a recognized as an individual, rather than being the 'son of' his mother'. These two women in particular were treating him like an adult, and he liked it. 

With these thoughts in mind, it was'nt long of course, until he was stiff; very stiff. Sleeves rolled up to keep them clear, tie swaying too and fro, balls full and cock hard. He reached down and pulling is right hand back quickly, he peeled the tight skin back and revealed his shiny, swollen and dark red, mushroom head. Although he was trying to stay quiet he was gasping every now and then, from sheer excitement. 

Suddenly there was the sound of a clanging bucket against the mens' toilet door.

"Hello? Hello, it's me. I just need to give the toilets a once over." It was Dorothy. 

Jon managed to grunt an acknowledgement. 

"And I don't have much time." 

"Damn," he thought, "I need to get off, but I know I'll make a noise."

Jon knew he couldn't do it quietly and do it in less than two minutes; so cursing silently he realized he had to leave. 

Reluctantly he simply turned, opened the cubicle door and came out. She was already wiping down the sink.

"Mrs. Chester, can I show you something?"

She turned, looked at him and then down at his pronounced stiffness, protruding cheekily from his small unzipped flies. Her mouth fell open, and she looked back at his uncertain face. 

Then she acted decisively. She put down her cloth and reaching forward cupped his balls and gently squeezed them. Then firmly grasping his cock she slowly and methodically jerked him off into the urinal. She seemed to know instinctly the right hold, how firmly and the rythymn he liked the best, while she locked her eyes on his. She didn't speak: And, he guessed, she would also like to get her watch back when she had finished milking him... 

Another crash of the bucket outside the cubicle brought him back from his dream. He knew that if he did what he had just contemplated, she would be horrified, offended and disgusted. He would never hear the end of it from his mother and Mrs. Chester would probably never speak to him again. So instead, he packed himself, with difficulty, back inside his trousers. 

"God he didn't realize how tight they were," he thought.

"Sorry to hurry you Jonathan," she said through the door. 

He flushed and zipped up. 

She watched him exit, as she reached into her bucket with her rubber gloves. She glanced sideways at his trousers and was interested to note a horizontal crease line. It wasn't an ordinary crease more a bulge instead and it went almost to the edge of his trousers. 

"Wow." She thought quickly. 

"Oh can you help me in the kitchen please Jonathan? I need some items from the top cupboards there's a 'step up' in there. If you can also do a little drying for me first, I'll show you what I need." 

She was referring to contents of the kitchen cupboards and not of his tight trousers, though she would have liked to. She glanced down again as he passed. Yes a definite bulge and a nice tight pair of buttocks divided by a tidy seam. It reminded her of the birch cuttings, which he had stacked near the Chester household back door. 

"They definitely needed attention." She sniggered to herself, surprised again at how aroused she felt and reddened. It was all so new and so inappropriate, in his case.

He was drying the last plate when she came into the kitchen, a few minutes later. 

"I just have to lay out some food for the lunch we have today... they are in these boxes and I need some more plates from the high level cupboards, just the job for a nice athletic young man."

He reddened slightly. 

"Top cupboard, over the cooker." She directed, and Jon did as he was told. Jon lifted the 'step up', moved its light metal frame and steadying himself, climbed to the top. Dorothy looked over at him and again automatically her eyes dropped down his length and then across his length!

"God, he is still erect, nice. I wonder why he wasn't embarrassed, perhaps he didn't realize that he was so 'outstanding'," she thought.

"Can I step on the worktop?" He asked glancing down at Dorothy.

She was now looking under the sink for some more items. He hadn't noticed before how open her white blouse was. Three, rather than two buttons, were undone. It revealed just enough of a pair of modestly sized, milky, breasts, supported by a white bra. This wasn't helping he thought. He felt his already erect cock, slowly twitch back to complete rigidity, in his trousers, at the sight.

"Yes as long as you're careful," she replied and came out from under the sink. She glanced down a little once more. His genitals were now at her head height. Under the bright ceiling lights they were shown in strong relief. She had to cough and look away, now it was her turn to flush.

"Are you hungry? Do you like sausage roles Jonathan?" She asked innocently enough a few moments later.

"I have made some beetroot and pork versions of the traditional, with a new light form of short pastry. They're quite different. I got the recipe from a friend." 

He looked down and saw her pull the top off a large square box and start to move her 'creations' out and on to a large dinner plate. Jon could not quite believe what he saw. They looked to him like some many partly erect penises. Maroon red beetroot and pork insides, partly covered with a light fleshy coloured skin of pastry. There was no other description.

"They are quite chunky," she said 

"I like to get my teeth into a large one, rather than nibbling on several small ones, so I make them bigger than the recipe says." She said, quite appreciating what her cooking ha produced and how what she had just said simply made it worse for Jonathan. He climbed down from the worktop and watched her fingering the sausage roles. Each was about five inches long, full of the meat and vegetable mix, in a pastry wrapper. He could not take his eyes off her fingers as she picked up each role and placed it on the plate. God he felt hard once again. It was time to leave and hope things calmed down.

By now it was getting busy at the clubhouse. Jon settled himself in to a seat near the back of the hall for the AGM. He saw Mrs. Chester's bag two rows immediately in front. Minutes later she came in as more and more people entered the room. She smiled at Jon as she sat down. In a few minutes more all was quiet. 

He watched the back of her head. The sun shone through the back window and illuminated her neck. Her hair was styled to a short black bob, curled back, and cut clear of her ears. Below the hairline was a downy, fuzz fringe, framed either side by her fine ears, from which he had just hung some low dangling loop earrings. Again he felt a swelling in his trousers. He was watching her bared forearms now she had changed to a short sleeved blouse. He was intrigued by her short dark arm hairs and as she reached forward he could see a small black bush underneath each armpit by turn.

"So hot," he thought to himself.

He wished he could have realized some of the tension in his balls earlier.

Throughout the meeting, try as he might, Jonathan could not look away from Mrs. Chester's hair, her head, neck, shoulders, and back. When she finally stood up to report on the ladies golfing circle, he was presented with a flowing pleated skirt and the tops of dark stockings. Her feet were shod in sensible brogues with a two inch narrow, but flared heel tip. 

As she finished and sat down, to mild applauses from the members, he watched her tuck her feet back under her chair. He wondered idly what it might be like to feel her push one of those shoe heels onto him, may be even into him, whilst he perhaps lay prone on the floor. He felt himself tense with apprehension and excitement at the thought. He broke out into a sweat.

"Where are these feelings coming from?" He asked, a little confused.

Time passed and soon she was about to reach to her neighbour, behind her. He saw her strong right forearm flex its lean form, and pass back a pack of papers. She turned a little more and as she did so he was able to see right up the underside of the baggy and very short sleeves of her top. His eyes now alighted on a thick dark tangle of hair he had seen a couple of times before and had thought nothing of, but now they did something to him. He wondered how bushy she might be lower down. He felt another involuntary twitch from inside his trousers and realized he was erect yet again. 

As soon as the meeting ended, Jonathan simply had to leave. He was now desperate for the toilet. He had things to complete, but he was then waylaid by Mrs. Crawley, who emerged from the kitchen. 

"Hello again, nice to see you here, how are you?" she asked smiling he chubby cheeks folding in pleasure. She looked him up and down. He was impressed by the cut of his trousers.

"Been for any rides recently?" 

She wasn't really that interested of course. Actually she was busy thinking how much she would like to ride him, or at least inspect his bike more closely. She was surprised why she hadn't noticed him in earlier years, but what she had now registered of Jonathan's fit young body so far, she definitely wanted to see more.

"Yes a few," he replied vaguely. 

"Sorry but I really must visit the gents," he added and moved away quickly.

Jonathan was now standing facing the back wall of the WC. Sleeves rolled up again to keep them clear of any splashes, tie off, eyes closed. His right hand was pumping his penis, left hand cupping and squeezing his balls, snagged on their underside by the zip teeth. He was thinking hard about Dorothy. If she could see him now, would she be impressed or bored by someone his age? Then he remembered the sausage rolls and the way she had made them. He wondered if their resemblance to the male anatomy had been deliberate, or just accidental on her part. 

He reached down and cinched Dorothy's wristwatch strap to the final and felt the swollen head surge bigger and with that the tight and fast moving foreskin eased back on its own with a series of compulsive twitches. It was a combination of the constriction of the leather strap, but mostly the fact that it was Mrs. Chester and had only recently been round her wrist suddenly made him feel very big indeed. It really turned him on. 

The as he was about reach his climax he released the grip of his fingers and lent forward hard against the wall in front of him. He cried out as he felt his balls move on their own, his muscles contracting repeatedly against the leather and around his groin. Moments later rich, white, wet, gooey spunk, exploded from his tip. The first jet hit the wall. The second hit the wall. The third hit the wall. The fourth hit the wall as did the fifth, and sixth. With the slim, leather strap biting into his flesh at each jerk, it just made him harder, each time. 

Then in a few seconds he felt the pressure ease and the next two globs went in to the toilet bowl. He stopped and leant back against the door. He gasped in relief. God that was good he said to himself, so good. 

A sticky string of his emissions, about a foot long now swayed gently, from the tip of his cock, but he was too exhausted to do anything about it.

He wondered what would happen, could happen, when he was next working at the Chesters.

End of pt. 4.



Gardening at Mrs Chesters Ch. 05



Dorothy Chester was watching again from her seat, in the shed. What a sight. Jonathan was facing her, standing about six feet away. His shorts were down around his ankles and a singular object was pointing out from him, up, hard and proud. 

"Gosh," she heard herself murmur at the sight. 

A firm, thick, perky, fresh, penis, was pointing directly at her. 

"Young and yummy," she whispered to herself. Its dark mushroomed head alternately revealed and covered, as he stroked the flexible, but tight foreskin, steadily up and down. 

Jonathan's eyes were closed and he seemed a long way off. His slim, taut, forearms flexed as he stroked and concentrated. 

"'College boy cock', has never looked so fine," thought Dorothy. 

She knew she shouldn't, but she could not resist staring. 

Looking slightly down she caught sight of his ball bag, tight, but still swaying in time to his strokes. His testis were full, rounded and more fuzzy than she had expected, as the rest of his exposed body seemed almost hairless. 

Dorothy had been watching from her vantage point for a five full minutes now and felt sure that he had to explode soon. She could not tear her eyes off the pee slit as she waited. She watched, on edge, for something to shoot out from its depths. 

She noticed Jonathan had glanced up at the house from the back garden a couple of times.

"Was he wondering where she had got to?" She pondered. Perhaps he was half expecting her to show up soon. Clearly he didn't want or expect to be caught by her, but unfortunately for him, he already had been. She smiled inwardly at her craftiness and continued to watch. 

Two minutes more passed. Now she could hear him moaning. There was a rhythmic panting. His eyes shut, were screwed tight. His arm and leg muscles and one six inch muscle in particular, just below his waistline were strained. His hands gripped very firmly. She looked down again and saw that his penis was now bigger and stiffer than ever. He was about to blow, and she had a ringside seat. 

She licked her lips slowly, and watched eagerly.

Suddenly, Dot awoke in a cold sweat. 

She sat up quickly in bed and stared into the blackness of their bedroom at home. 

It was the middle of the night.

"Damn and he was so close this time." she whispered out loud to the dark.

"These nightmares had to stop," she told herself.

Dorothy and Linda were not the only older female lechers; Veronica the club secretary had also noticed the maturing boy and his fine form. She managed to engage in some inane conversation with Jonathan about his bike at the club before he left a recent event. 

"So Jonathan, tell me about the gears." 

She held the bike by its saddle, her hand gripped the narrow smooth leather like it was rock hard cock. She rubbed her thumb over the end and teased it like the tip of a penis. She could not tell if her behaviour was affecting him, but she hoped it did.

It was another Monday when the doorbell rang and Dorothy smiling at the prospect of greeting her cute gardener went to the front door. Instead she was met by a hooded figure in grey top and loose low hanging baggy jeans. She opened it a little nervously and saw that the young man was black. 

"Hello?" She said uncertainly. 

"Er yeah hello I'm Jasen, Jonathan's mate. He sent me today cos' he can't come." 

Then she remembered something Jon had said at the end of the previous week, about not being able to show up on the Monday. She was not going to be mugged on her own doorstep after all. She was relieved and smiled.

"Oh yes I remember now, you had better come in." 

She held the door open and stood to one-side as the figure slouched its way in. Not at all the clean cut, youth, that she normally welcomed in to her home. 

"Do you have any gardening clothes Jasen?" She enquired as she closed the porch door behind him. 

"Err no these are fine, they're me normal clothes."

"Well it can be quite messy. I do normally lend Jonathan some old clothes of the boys, if you prefer?"

"No these 'ell be fine," He said. 

"Well come through to the back and I will tell you what needs doing."

It was an hour later and Dot was looking out of the kitchen, doing some washing, and trying to see what Jasen had achieved. He was leaning back on the fork. Well there had been some progress she thought, certainly when it came to revealing himself to her at least. Sleeves on his top were pushed up to the elbows and his hood was off. Then as she watched, he unzipped his grey top to reveal a white t shirt under it. And that was definitely nothing like as baggy. 

When she came out with a drink, about thirty minutes later, she found the young man without his top, in just the t shirt, and she was confronted with his bum cleavage. His loosely arranged jeans were only just held up with his belt - not that he was fat, quite the opposite. 

"Those cheeks are definitely as tight as his jeans were baggy," she thought as she set the tray down. 

"Ooh it's rather warm out here now, isn't it Jasen?" She said. 

"Are you comfortable in all that?" She indicated his heavy looking jeans. He straightened up and glanced down.

"Yeah well maybe if you've got sometin'."

Now that Dot could see the lad better, it was clear that his body was as toned as Jonathans. Maybe a touch more developed, only it was also dark, and smooth. 

"I will set some shorts out on the radiator in the hall. You can change in the downstairs wash room." 

She had started to do this for Jon too as he seemed to take a long time to change when he went upstairs in the morning. She hadn't worked out that the 'distraction' for Jonathan, was her photo. 

Dot found an old smaller pair of shorts, from one of her now grown up sons, and laid them with the regular ones she put out for Jon. She wondered which pair this interesting black youth would pick.

About three minutes later he appeared in the blue shorts, the smaller pair. Or may be he just preferred dark blue. The main thing was that they were a close fit. 

He resumed his work in the garden and an hour later in the hot sun, as Dot had expected if not hoped, off came his top. Dot was at the kitchen window as he slipped it off and a moment or so later she slipped her hand inside the front of her slacks. Clothed now only in the shorts and trainers, the body of the lightly muscled, dark skinned lad, positively gleamed in the sun. He bent, shoveled, twisted, straightened; and as he did so. showed off most of his delightful form to the older woman. If he carried on like this for long she would have to visit the bathroom herself.

"Time for some refreshments," she announced as she emerged from the kitchen. 

She had donned some large framed mirror sunglasses for the occasion as well as replacing her blouse with a low cut tee shirt and her slacks with a billowy, cool, floral skirt. 

"Would you like a chocolate or vanilla ice cream?" She asked him. 

The boy straightened and faced her. Now she could clearly see the outline of a bulge in his shorts. Her glasses enabled her to watch him as she bent forward and low, setting up a folding chair for him to sit on. She could see him looking as her ample and unconstrained breasts swelled up under her top. She could feel her nipples begin to harden, under his gaze. 

"Thanks Mrs C.," he mumbled. 

Now it was her turn to observe him. She was sure that the shorts package had changed shape and constrained as it was within the small space within, she trusted she would soon see more. 

"Vanilla please," he said sitting down. 

She went to the ice box of the fridge, fished out a vanilla and returned. She peeled the dark wrapper back for him, and although she fought the image in her head, much as she imagined peeling back his foreskin might be like, assuming he still had one. She had decided on a double chocolate sweet for herself. Sitting a few feet away on the garden bench, she started to lick the decidedly cold, long, and wet dark chocolate ice.

In the hot sun, where he sat, it didn't take long of course, for the vanilla to melt and then drip on him, as he sat back. She watched the white trail trickle down his smooth soft, dark, skin, towards a slim waist. She wondered if he would mind awfully, if she were to lean forward and wipe it off with her finger. His ice cream dripped again, but he didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he wasn't bothered. A few more drips and dribbles later, and a small pool was starting to form in his navel, just above the top of his shorts. The drips continued and the pool began to overflow. It oozed towards the top of his shorts and disappeared inside. Dorothy could only wonder where the rivulet would go next. 

She glanced down, under cover of her new shades, to see it she could sense any movement. It didn't take long for a reaction, as the cool trickle reached something sensitive. There was a definite stirring, from within. She took another long, slow, draw on her dark chocolate treat, sucking it hard, sticking her tongue out and running it up the underside. She stared at the blue shorts and saw something rise and then fall. A second later it rose and fell again. A second later still it rose and then stayed up. She realized that this dirty lad was getting a hard-on as the result of her eating an ice cream. She looked up at him and his tongue was busy twirling and scooping, it looked soft strong and incredibly long. She wondered what it could achieve on her, between her moistening thighs.

Dot was in the middle of a final long slow draw of her chocolate treat, lips pursed, around a now cylindrical dark brown slimy stick. She started to smile and looked back as his face became serious and she realized that her eating of her ice cream was having a marked effect on him too. 

"Thanks," he said quickly, keen to get up and away before anything 'happened'. 

"Wow." She thought.

She glanced down at his shorts in a split second, as clear shapes were emerging. The central seam was being drawn up, allowing his balls to become tightly separated and above them a long straight line of his cock was completing its erection. She was impressed and proud of her contribution. 

She glanced up at his eager face and bit down on the end of her ice lolly. The head of her black ice cream broke off and she began to munch and crunch her way through it, smiling up at him.

"Mmmm," she said and added without thinking first, "I do love the taste of dark chocolate on a hot sunny day."

"Sorry I'd gotta' get on," he said, a little disturbed. 

Dorothy nodded and watched. This time it was his long smooth, muscled, back and tight bottom that caught her eye. Now it was her turn to move. She didn't know what had come over her in the sunshine, but she did know that now had some unfinished business in the downstairs cloakroom.

End of part 5



Gardening at Mrs Chesters Ch. 06



The doorbell rang, it was Veronica. 

"Hello." Dot smiled as she opened the porch door. 

"How are you?" She asked as she entered. 

"Oh fine." Dot said. "Now we are getting the garden sorted. I like having my undergrowth trimmed and tidied."

Dot thought of the garden to the house and a moment later of her personal front garden which was also in need of attention. She must get around to giving herself a trim. She was quite bushy either side of her knicker line these days and it wouldn't do. Whilst she was not wearing any in the summer heat it was not so noticeable, but come the autumn she would need to get snipping. 

"I heard you were having your garden tended to by a nice young man," Veronica smiled a half dirty smile, thinking that she would not mind such ministrations herself. 

"Yes," Dot smiled. 

"I was talking to Jonathan at the weekend," said Veronica. "And I was thinking that it's time the energies of that athletic young man were directed to more constructive activities. Cycling is all very well but it doesn't help you pay the bills at home, or keep our gardens tidy."

"Indeed well he's been a big help here that's all I can say," Dot added. 

"Only today he couldn't come so he sent his friend Jasen." 

By now the two older women, Dot in her 40's and Veronica a little younger were approaching the kitchen window. 

"Is that him?" said Veronica glancing out at the black boy bending and heaving. 

"Yes he's a cyclist too apparently. He's at the same college as Jonathan." 

"Does he know what he's doing?" 

"Oh yes," thought Dorothy. 

"He's already been having an effect," she added as thought about her wonderful climax in the bathroom earlier that day.

"Oh yes, he's already made a difference." She said reflectively.

"I bet he has" said Veronica slyly wondering to herself how well endowed this Adonis was, when he was erect. 

"Well there's not an ounce of fat of that one anyway, you do seem to pick them," she said turning to Dot.

"Well I didn't pick him, he was just filling in for Jonathan." 

"Oh, does that mean he's available when Jonathan comes back?" asked Veronica with interest. 

"I'm not sure." Replied Dorothy. "I'll ask him later if you like." 

Dot was in a dilemma as she now realized she liked both workers. She didn't want either tending other women's gardens over her own.

"Well I can ask now I think he's coming in."

Jasen was approaching the kitchen door, his smooth half naked body glistening with sweat. His long dreadlocks were tied back to allow him to see what he was doing. He was clad only in dark blue tight fitting shorts and trainers. 

Veronica's eyes wandered freely, and greedily. They roamed over his shorts, 

"Definitely something in there," she thought and not even hard I'll bet. She was already thinking about how she could borrow him. 

"Err well Linda did say she might need some help and one of my neighbours too" 

"I bet they did, trust Linda," thought Veronica smiling. 

"We all have our needs and many of those would be eased by the use of a firm long and probably willing penis." She thought.

From her own rapid and recent researches both Jonathan and Jasen possessed one of similar measure. She would be only too glad to help relieve one or both boys after a couple of minutes in her hands. She slid up the sleeves on her white blouse, folded her bared arms and looked at the black boy as he opened the back door and entered the kitchen. She wasn't going to miss this opportunity.

"Hello Jasen. Dorothy has been telling me all about you. You keep yourself fit, you should be with the Olympic team, I bet you can run fast with those legs."

"Well I cycle to keep fit," he replied shyly.

"I can see you look after yourself, very nice, very athletic, turn around." 

Dot was a little taken aback as Veronica ordered him around. 

"Oh yes." She reached out, her bunch of silver bracelets jangling on her arm, touching his right shoulder tip with her hand then sliding it firmly and slowly across his shoulder and down his back to the top of his shorts. 

The feel to Veronica was, "Fantastic, firm, fresh, fit... mmmm." 

Then she carried on down his right thigh and onward down his leg to his foot as Veronica bent down. 

"Turn around." He did so meekly. He looked a little uncertain at the attention he was getting.

Veronica her head now at waist height looked up to see a definite swelling in his shorts. 

Dot was still surprised and even more so as Veronica slid her hand back up his body from shin to knee to thigh and amazingly up the front of his shorts. Fortunately for everyone it seemed his erection was off to the right and so her hand missed it. Then Veronica was back on to his bared flesh, his smooth barely discernable six pack. As her hand slid upwards she couldn't resist scraping a fingernail tip on his left nipple and lingering there oh so slightly until she reached his strong shoulder. Finally she let her hand trail gently down his dark, smooth, toned, right arm. 

"Mmm delightfully athletic," murmured Veronica taking in his whole figure once more. 

By now the erection in his shorts was getting much more pronounced and both Dorothy and Jasen all the more embarrassed, but Veronica wasn't. No she was one step away from reaching forward yanking down his shorts and giving him a rough, ready and rigorous hand job there and then in Dots kitchen. In her head she was doing it, kneeling and pulling off his beautiful, black cock. It might make a mess on the floor, but there was sure to be plenty of kitchen roll if she knew Dot. Her only uncertainty was whether he would be pink, purple, or brown under his foreskin when she peeled it back.

"Ok, so your done for today Jasen?" Asked Dot trying to sound normal.

"I'll get you some money." She went out to the hall and Jasen partly followed. 

"I could do with some help when you are available young man," Veronica spoke to the side of him, staring at his body still. 

Jasen was a little uncertain, nervous, but also a bit excited. He glanced down. 

"Cancel that," he thought, "a lot excited." 

He saw the beginnings of a damp spot just at the end of his long firm swelling. 

He had never come across such a forward older women like Veronica. She stared at him seriously arms bared and folded across her chest, jangly bangles sliding down to her wrists again. 

"I have to warn you though that whilst I pay well, I am strict on timekeeping and other matters..." she added sternly, half smiling. 

Jasen heard the word, 'strict' and his cock involuntarily pulsed. 

Veronica caught sight of the movement and let out a very quiet moan as she recognized his desire to be punished! That would be the cherry on the icing on the cake so to speak she thought. In her head she was already making plans for him, and his cherry. 

She glanced at him again as he moved to the hall and spotted his damp spot, difficult to see with the dark colour. 

"Wow!" She thought. 

She pondered whether he was bushy shaved or simply not yet that hairy and smiled to herself. It had been a while since she had savoured some fresh meat. Young and black meat, were two novelties for her. 

"Would you like to change before you go home?" Asked Dorothy, now really quite hot and bothered, and sort of hoping he would and do so right there in the hallway. 

"Err no if I can borrow the shorts I'll come back in them tomorrow'." He reached into his bag for his sweat top, his shaggy dreads swinging over his eyes once more. Determined to ensure she had her share of touching the boy up and not simply leaving it to Veronica, she leant forward. 

"Oh hold on a moment," said Dorothy as he straightened up in front of her, 

"You seem to have something down your front." 

She had noticed the sticky vanilla trail from his chest over his abs to the top of his shorts. 

She just wanted to lean forwards and lick it off but realized how inappropriate that would be. Instead she did as she had done for years for her messy boys. She spat into her fine cotton handkerchief which she had taken from her sleeve, and resting, a steadying hand on the boys left shoulder began rubbing the line of vanilla from the top of the trail to the bottom. His skin was warm, dark and smooth. It felt "delicious" she thought. 

"Nearly done," she said as he stood with his arms still above his head as he waited to slip his top on again. She neared his navel and spat a fresh gob of saliva into her cloth. She poked her forefinger inside and glanced up at him. 

"Better?" She asked. 

"Yeah," he croaked. He was starting to lose his ability to speak entirely.

She looked again and noticed a gap opening up at the top of the front of his shorts. She realized the elastic waistband was being pushed out by him, or more accurately being pushed out by a very long, strong, firm, penis.

"Almost there," she added, again stifling a smile as she realized the effect she was having on him. 

Her finger neared the top of his shorts and again she glanced at his face as she slipped her cotton wrapped forefinger slightly inside. The boy coughed suddenly and she realized that her fingernail had just contacted the tip of his very full penis, now sticking upwards. 

"Oops," she said smiling slightly. 

However rather than withdraw, she simply curled her finger slightly and scraped it across the slit. She felt him shudder as she repeated her action. 

"I think that's got it," she said. 

He grunted and breathed heavily. 

"Yeah," he croaked again. 

The gap at the top of his shorts opened further she realized, because he was getting even harder. 

"Just another couple," she said and flicked her fingernail albeit wrapped in the cloth, again. 

"God this is incredible" she thought and felt a trickle. 

She leaned away. "All done," she said and smiled. 

"See you tomorrow," she said studying his torso as his top slid down. 

Veronica emerged from the front room and now also noticed the state of the lads dress. 

"Wow, those shorts," she thought. "Talk about divide and rule."

The front seam now neatly divided his testicles, for both women to see.

As the youth bent over to gather his clothes from the hall chair Dot studied his bottom and absent mindedly sucked the moist end of the handkerchief.

"Mmm," she thought there was definitely something else on it besides the taste of vanilla ice cream. The taste of anticipatory dribble on his part perhaps.

Jasen could not wait to leave. He mounted his bike under the watchful gaze of both women then pushed off down the road. He was hard and horny. Excited, but also worried. They were one step away from jumping me he thought, or had his hormones made him imagine it? He never knew how needy women of their age could be or seemed to him, to be. 

There were lots of games, but nothing had been said to him directly. He wondered whether his mate Jonathan got the same attention when he worked there. 

He had not got that far when he began to notice a churning sensation between his thighs more specifically in his balls. Being perched on a bicycle and pedalling fast to get home did not help. He soon realized he had actually cum in the shorts as felt something sticky down his leg. 

"No hands." That was a first for him.

Only now did he realize how turned on he had become at the hands of these women. Their handling of him in turn, had, by degrees got him really going. The swelling and stiffening of his penis had only been the start and he was grateful he was no longer there. Yet despite all this he was still not sure if this was all imagined, rather than real. 

End of part 6



Gardening at Mrs Chesters Ch. 07



Tuesday morning. Dot waited by the living room window again, hoping to spot Jonathan approaching down the street on his bike. The window was obscured in thick net curtains and it was hard to see in, but easy to see out, unobserved. However there was no Jonathan. 

It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the phone rang. She had a mobile phone, but still used the landline, being of that generation. She walked in to the hall and picked up.

"Hello, Chester household."

A muffled voice in a noisy background at the other end of the line spoke.

"Hello this is Hugh Swan Memorial Hospital, can I speak to Mrs. Chester please?"

"Hello, Mrs. Chester speaking."

"Good afternoon. I'm calling about a patient we have here, a Jonathan Shelton."

"Oh yes, I know Jonathan. He was supposed to be here this morning, has something happened?."

"Ah yes Jonathan Shelton, he's in our 'Accident and Emergency' department. He came off his bike this morning, on a junction near to the town centre."

"Oh, is he badly hurt?" Asked Dorothy, genuinely concerned for his welfare.

"No, not too bad, only relatively minor injuries. He's a healthy young man, bounced a couple of times, he hit his head and arm, but basically he's recovering well. He asked me to let you know that he's sorry, but he won't be able to come in today. I hope that makes sense to you."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

She thought quickly.

"Oh there anything do? Can I can drop by with anything, only his parents are away for a couple of days."

"Oh I see. Well, perhaps a change of clothes, would be helpful. He's going to be kept in tonight for observation, as we have a little spare capacity at the moment. Can you call by early evening, visiting will be over, but they will let you in for a short while. I won't be on shift then, but I'll leave a note for my colleague, to let them know you re coming in with some things for him." 

The cheery female voice at the hospital, ended the phone call.

Dorothy's carefully laid plans for the day, had been set aside. She thought quickly once more and ascended to the top of the house. She took out a box of old clothes of the boys, which they had long since grown out of, but some of which might be big enough for Jonathan. She selected underwear, jeans and a couple of tops and bagged them up to take.

She arrived at the hospital at about 8pm. The traffic outside the superstore on the way had been hell. The smell of disinfectant hit her sensitive nose as soon as she went through the main entrance. She didn't like hospitals, but this was about Jonathan's welfare. 

After about five minutes of hunting, she found the ward he was on, and entered.

She saw a nurse at her station, near the ward door. She was on the phone and studying three sets of papers on her desk. She looked up and looked busy.

"Er, hello, I've come to see Jonathan. Jonathan Shelton?" said Dot carefully.

The nurse, though she was only just back on duty, already seemed very tired. She wasn't looking forward to another twelve hour shift. She had a phone call on hold, another in her hand, three sets of papers to make sense of, Sister was due down in 20 minutes and now there was this late visitor. She stared bog eyed down at a list of names in front of her, but it took Dot to lean over and point his out.

"Ah yes,... Mrs. Shelton," the nurse said.

A simple 'No; would have worked. It would have cleared it all up. But Dorothy was taken by surprise, by the assumption. 

"Err I wonder if you wouldn't mind helping out? We are a bit short staffed this evening and the support staff won't be on until tomorrow early now. I think his top sheet needs changing. He dropped half his dinner down it earlier. If I gave you the sheet, could you do it for me? Nothing better than mom looking after you is there, in any case?"

"And don't worry you won't disturb him, he's still out of it with anesthetic while they re-set his arm. He won't be around for several hours or so yet." 

Dorothy paused, cleared her throat and was about to put the nurse right when she stopped herself.

"Err, no, no, you're quite right, it'll be no trouble at all." She replied, even though a voice in her head, was again telling her to correct the nurse and say that she wasn't Mrs. Shelton. However there was another voice, a louder one, which was disagreeing. "What about the shortages? Look how tired that nurse is already. Think how Jonathan will appreciate some clean bedding now, especially when he is recovering. Why not make a contribution. Stop being so selfish. What harm would there be?"

A call light went off in front of the nurse and without a word, off she walked down the corridor to the far end of the ward, leaving Dot on her own, holding a folded, clean, white, single sheet. There was nothing more to discuss, or even anyone to discuss it with if she had wanted to.

And so it was, that about two minutes later, she found herself at the other end of a dimly lit ward at Jonathan's bedside. He was asleep and he looked very tired. Something about hospitals and exhaustion she mused. Stretched out flat on his back, eyes closed, he appeared to be sleeping deeply from the effects of the anesthetic, just as the nurse had said. 

She called out his name softly. Nothing. She did it again. Still nothing. 

She turned and carefully and slowly, so as not to attract undue attention, pulled the curtains around the side and the end of the metal bed for some privacy. Now it was just Jonathan and Mrs. Chester, alone again.

Staring back at his bed it was then that she noticed the saucer sized soup stain. It was deep pea green and right in the middle of the top sheet. The soup had congealed where it fell and was now all but dried out. 

"Messy boy," she thought.

She could see why it needed changing. 

She wondered how long it had been like that. Things must be very busy on the ward. It probably hadn't helped that Jonathan had been asleep, otherwise it would have been done before now. It seemed that the hospital needed the services of volunteers, like her. She had almost felt pressed into service, but she knew she didn't really mind, even if the nurse had mistaken her for Mrs. Shelton.

Although Dorothy felt a little of a fraud, she also felt quite justified in carrying out her task. She was doing her bit to help, nothing more. She put the fresh sheet on the side cabinet and as she did so, looked below. Opening the small double doors in the unit, there was a small heap of crumpled clothing. She recognized it as Jonathan's cycling gear. She pulled it out. His top was ripped and marked with tar from where he had fallen, but the shorts and socks appeared to be undamaged, just a little dirty. She sniffed them gingerly. They smelt of him alright.

Curiosity got the better of her and she was about to peer inside his shorts, when something clattered onto the floor. 

Dorothy looked down and was surprised by what she saw. There, at her feet, was a small watch strap, with a watch attached. It was a lady's watch. Momentarily she assumed it was Jonathans, but it looked a bit small for him and anyway she couldn't recall him wearing one. 

She bent down, picked it up and turned it over. It was then that she recognized it as her own. Her missing watch, the one she hadn't seen for weeks. She had really missed it. It was a very reliable windup, one she had been given just after her graduation, some twenty or more years back. She flipped it over again and saw the face glass was scratched. 

"What was it doing here?" She wondered.

She checked the dial under the glass. The second hand was moving steadily. She put it to her ear and could hear and almost feel the gentle ticking of the clockwork mechanism inside. Instinctively she went to wind it up, but after only a couple of turns it jammed solid. 

She studied the little winding knob to the right of the face and with only a few seconds' inspection the problem was revealed. There were some small, light brown hairs wrapped around and between the winding knob and the case. And that wasn't the only problem. Looking more carefully at the strap between her fingers, she could now see some of the holes were quite enlarged, almost ripped and the brass buckle was misshapen, with the stitching to one end of the leather strap, badly frayed. 

She had always taken good care of her watch. "How had it got into this state?" 

"What on earth was it doing in the hospital, here, beside Jonathan's bed, mixed up in his clothes?" 

Still puzzled; but, resigned to this enigma, she put it back on her left wrist once more for safe keeping, making a mental note that it would need to go to the jewelers for repairs.

She reached into the bag she had brought with her and pulled out the replacement clothes from home. There was a pair of underpants, jeans, a pair of socks and a couple of tops. She was sure they would all fit him ok as she now had a pretty good idea of his size. She moved them to the shelf in the little cupboard, exchanging them for the discarded cycle gear. Hesitating for a moment, she picked them up and placed them in her bag. She told herself that she would take them home, wash them, fix them if she could, and drop them round to his home later the following week. In any case he wasn't going to be cycling again for a few weeks until his right arm had properly set and healed. It was the least she could do for him. 

Dorothy turned back to the bed and to her charge.

"Jonathan?" She called quietly.

"Jonathan?"

He didn't stir. She reached forward at the right side of the bed and picking up Jonathan's left hand squeezed the firm flesh gently. Nothing: He was definitely still deeply asleep just as the nurse had said. He looked calm. She didn't want to disturb him.

So this was it then. She leant over the bed, her face no more than a couple of feet from his. She looked into it. He was sweet. She examined his floppy hair, his eyelids, nose, lips, chin and his unshaven, but smooth cheeks; all fortunately undamaged from the accident. She was relieved. He was quite a looker. 

She continued her stare, searching for a reaction whilst she reached under the top edge of the sheet and with both hands began to slowly to draw it back. 

She saw that Jonathan was wearing one of those awful green papery hospital gowns. The neckline was a loose V ending, and lay open revealing his smooth torso to her. 

She paused, she admired. 

"He looks nice," she thought.

"I wonder what's next." 

She lifted and pulled the sheet some more. There was a light honeycomb blanket on top and it came away too as the sheet peeled back. 

She turned back to the prone youth and noticed that whilst he had been sleeping, his gown had ridden up, and so she was not so surprised, but not a little interested, when she saw his pubes. Soft light brown curly hairs, but no more really than a heavy fuzz. 

A few more inches of sheet came off him and it was then that she saw it. Nestling amongst the down, like a sleeping, hairless, mouse and looking very soft, was his penis.

She caught her breath.

"It's so cute." She thought.

"And one of the few occasions it's shrunk to such a size, I don't doubt!" She smiled.

Another little move of the sheet and his testicles both came into view. They hung, full, and low. In comparison to his penis, Dorothy thought they looked huge. There was very little hair on them, not because it looked like he shaved, but rather because it hadn't grown yet. 

"They look like a pair of soft ripe plums," she mumbled to herself, lost in wonder, and even as she watched, almost in response to her gaze, they shifted slightly in their scrotal sack.

She started to feel mean for looking. He was just an innocent young man, reacting to new sensations in the harsh, challenging and exciting world that he was fast maturing into. She felt embarrassed at her lechery. 

"How could I be so nosey?" She asked herself. 

"I should know better."

She finally removed the dirty sheet and dropped it in a heap on the floor. The lad's lower half was now entirely exposed to her. She could see some scratches on his right calf where he had hit the road and there were bandages presumably over cuts and grazes in about three places on his left. He had been lucky. It seemed, just a knock to the head and a broken arm, but not much else. 

As she unfolded the new top sheet, her eyes wandered back up his half naked form. Although she tried to avoid doing so, they inevitably drifted towards and then rested on, his groin. She was only too well aware, from her own first hand observations, how large he could get when roused, even though her view of it had been shielded by his tight clothing before now, but she remained surprised at how small his penis was, at rest, 

"Anyway that's enough ogling for now," she thought. 

She had seen a lot more than she had expected to, but in changing his bedding, it felt like she was performing a medical duty. It was as though she were a virtual, if temporary, member of the nursing staff, so she didn't feel bad. It didn't feel wrong. She hadn't touched or done anything that she should be ashamed of.

She shook out the folds of the new sheet, but still she couldn't help but return her gaze to his exposed crotch. As she admired his fine smooth thighs and their contrast to the folded, wrinkled skin of his scrotum, it was then that she noticed some red marks. She paused in her act of throwing the clean sheet over him and instead bent down and looked at his balls more closely. Yes, there was definitely a red mark, quite distinct. It was under and around the right testicle, and turning her head to the other side, she could see it went around both. 

Was it a sort of rash? It didn't look related to the accident. Perhaps he needed treating for it? Did the hospital realize? Had Jonathan been too immature and embarrassed to mention it to anyone?

She looked around the other side of his scrotum again and noticed that the red mark not only affected his balls, but also the side of his penis. The redness was right at its base and there was another almost square mark in the skin too. She stared. It was almost as if there had been something caught around, even tied around it all.

"Or fastened?" she whispered to herself, her eyes widening, in surprise at what she had just said.

Her face fell. She looked at her left wrist again and mouthed the words

"My watch?" 

"Around his balls?" 

"What?"

"How?" 

"Why?"

It wasn't making much sense to her now, but yet another inspection of the red marks clinched it. The square mark on his penis matched the size and shape of the little brass buckle on the strap. The hairs jammed in the winder; were none other than some of Jonathan's fine, light brown, curly, pubes. The thought of him wearing her watch, in his underwear, and tightly fixed around himself: It confused her, bemused her; offended her. 

Then, at length, she smiled very slightly, but only slightly.

"Oh I get it. He likes to be constricted, controlled, under the thumb." She thought.

"Hence my watch strapped around his balls."

"I wouldn't mind so much, but did he have to take it away and then cause so much damage?"

She looked down at the sleeping form. It still seemed very odd to her, but with a resigned shrug, "Well if that's what you want, that is what you shall get young man," she thought.

The motherly instinct to protect and care, dissipated, and was replaced with harder, tougher and frankly dirtier side of Dorothy's erstwhile pure mind.

"If you want something to keep yourself tied up and generally 'on the boil' my lad, then let's see what Mrs. Chester can find for you?" She muttered under her breath. 

She looked down and into her handbag. There must be something in there; and there was.

In a few seconds she had found a small roll of dental floss, the one she used after meals when out and about.

"This will do nicely, but where to fix it?" she mused.

She looked at the little 'mouse', 'dozing' between his thighs. It couldn't be anywhere as obvious as where the watch had been strapped, or someone and certainly Jonathan, would notice. 

She thought for a moment more and then smiled, congratulating herself on the idea. She turned back to the bedside cabinet. On top was a small card box containing latex gloves. Reaching in, she pulled out two. Despite her small fingers they were a tight fit, that and the fact that both her hands were now shaking in anticipation, made them difficult to get on.

She turned back to the sleeping boy and reached forward. An inch away from his penis she paused.

"What if he wakes?" She looked up at his sleeping face. He still seemed quite oblivious. 

She reached out and touched him. The little 'mouse' felt soft, warm and smooth in her fingers. Bent over his groin, she lifted the dozy head easily and peered in at the opening at the tip. His foreskin was drawn well over, naturally protecting the glans. She half expected it to swell and rapidly harden with her gentle touch, but it remained sleepy. She coughed nervously and gripped the skin lightly with the fingers of her left hand and the began to slide it back. It moved easily. In less than three seconds the pink moist head appeared, like a freshly born baby mouse, naked, 'blinking', and smooth, into the bright light of the ward. Of course being a messy boy, she quickly noticed that he clearly didn't wash down there very often, as the smell hit her nose. She reached for a couple of packets of wipes off the cupboard top and gripping both in her teeth, pulled them both open with her right hand. She dabbed at the tip, down the sides, around the base of the head, finally drawing each wipe around the crease where the foreskin rolled forward from.

"That's better," she thought.

She let his penis drop onto his balls, reached for the floss reel, and broke off a two foot length. 

It took about a minute, no more. She looked back at the head. Even she could hardly see her work and she knew where to look. She hardly imagined he would see it, as he obviously never checked under there judging by the cheesy debris she had just removed for him. Nestling in the crease of the head, but under his foreskin she had loosely wrapped the fine but strong, floss cord around him, about six times. 

She had been intending to leave it at that, only it was then that her watch strap broke. It served to remind her of the damage that his unthinking actions had caused and it annoyed her. So instead, she picked up the two loose ends and tied them off with a knot; one for the bent buckle. She paused, and what about the scratched glass- she tied another; and moving on seamlessly, her nibble gloved fingers tied a third, for the torn strap. Whilst he could quite easily slip off her 'noose' when he was on the slack, she knew that when next aroused even slightly, it would become difficult and probably a little painful. If he got very big, well who knew what would happen. 

"If he wants to feel a bite, that's what he's going to get. There's nothing better than dental floss to improve the bite, young man." She thought without guilt.

She reached for his crotch for the last time and gently slipped his floppy foreskin back up the shaft to hide her handiwork. Peeling off the gloves quickly, she pulled the clean sheet over him, tucked it in, replaced the blanket and opened the curtains.

Jonathan slept on. It had all taken less than five minutes.



Gardening at Mrs Chesters Ch. 08



She was in the Chester family kitchen. It was night and in the doorway lit from behind by the hall light, was Jonathan. 

"Come here." She commanded him.

Jonathan shuffled forward, his legs not quite moving properly and a pained expression playing across his face.

She was standing by the sink, arms bared and folded, dressed in her pyjamas. She would take no nonsense.

"What's up?" She asked him curtly.

"It's, I... I'm not quite sure how to say this." He mumbled letting his head slump a little. He was wearing the clothes she had brought to the hospital earlier that day. Although baggier than what he normally wore, the jeans did nothing to hide the pointed bulge in the front.

"Do you have any scissors Mrs. Chester?"

She reached into the drawer under the worktop to her left and pulled out a pair.

"Will these do?" She held them up. They were enormous kitchen scissors with powerful thick eight inch blades, ordinarily used for cutting up meat, for the grill."

Jonathan's eyes looked across at the scissors, as she noisily clacked them open and closed three times, in front of him.

"They look a bit big." He said wincing.

"No Jonathan," she said decisively.

"They are designed to cut meat of all shapes and sizes. Is there a specific meat you had in mind?" She asked glancing down pointedly at his crotch. He didn't answer.

"Is there something troubling you down there?" She queried arching a disdainful eyebrow.

She sat down suddenly on a high stool and leant back confidently onto the wall.

"Here. Come here." She demanded loudly.

Jonathan complied.

"Closer boy"

He shuffled until his knees, in his jeans, were almost touching hers, under her loose fitting pyjama bottoms.

"Something down here?" She asked looking up and locking her eyes, on his downcast pair.

He nodded shyly and went a lovely shade of pink, she thought.

Keeping her eyes on his and grasping his jeans belt with her left hand, she carefully located and began to tug down on his brass zipper, with her right. The zip was worn and opened easily.

"In here?" she asked insistently.

He nodded sheepishly, again. 

The pink skin of his smooth, sweet, face, now turned to red.

"Do you want me, to put my hand in here?" 

"Yes" he croaked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Fine, if that's what you want young man." She said flatly. The slightest of smiles playing on her lips belying the emotionless disinterested, almost disgusted tone she had adopted in her questions.

It was warm inside his jeans, she thought. It was hardly surprising. His penis was fully hardened she reckoned, but it still lay within the boxers. She felt their contents roughly with her strong fingers, her bare left arm protruding out of the flies. 

Then she grasped the material of the boxers firmly and, pulling it out, exposed the two front buttons. Turning to her right, she picked up the enormous scissors and brought them towards the bunched cloth. 

She was quick. The blades came together firmly, in one swift movement, and sliced off the front of his boxers, without touching the contents. The single cut left a gaping hole in the cloth.

"That's better, now I can see you properly." She said.

Jonathan gasped and tried to pull away, but her firm grasp prevented it. 

She withdrew the blades and dropped them on the worktop. Now she reached inside the underpants eagerly with her left hand and in two seconds had a tight grip of his rock hard penis. It was not only erect, but twitching madly like a trapped animal, sensing danger. Try as he may, the erratic movements could not prevent her pulling his cock and balls, right out of his jeans.

Dorothy took stock of the situation, then looked up again at the now beetroot faced youth. She had his head, quite literally, in her hands.

She looked back at the cock. The head was a strong purple colour, almost matching the shade his face had turned. Looking closer still, she saw two loose ends of floss protruding from underneath his foreskin.

"You want me to cut something off?" She asked brusquely.

He nodded and gulped audibly.

"Someone has been a little careless with their flossing haven't they? Looks like you don't clean down here, anything like as often as you should do. Disgusting boy. You always need to clean here regularly you know Jonathan, you shouldn't leave it so long next time, or others will have to do it for you."

She grasped his penis, between the small strong fingers of her left hand and slid the tight foreskin back quickly and firmly in one sharp movement. He gasped. She looked carefully at the bared tip and could see the floss wrapped tightly around the top and underside of his head, burying itself into the flesh. It looked painful, even to her. It hadn't broken the skin, but it was clearly restricting circulation making his head bigger than it normally might have been, when firm. It looked as though it would be difficult to remove the floss noose. She let go and his freed penis twitched violently upwards and away, once, twice, three times, before settling. Jonathan was nervous and breathing loud and hard. 

"Its important you keep still Jonathan. I can see what needs to be done, but I don't want to cut the wrong things off." She warned with the merest whisper of a smile as she spoke.

She reached up to where his penis had settled and gently touched the underside of his glans with the nail of the little finger, on her left hand. It jumped again. Then, slowly and carefully, she forced her nail up and under the floss, stretching it away as hard as she could, from his penis. 

"Hold it still now boy." She commanded.

Jonathan winced again and now grasped his cock from above with both hands. He held it down and steady for her, as she pressed her sharp nail, into his flesh.

She turned to her right again and picking up the huge meat scissors she brought them quickly right up and under his balls. Then slowly, as if to act as a warning, she opened her hand, as far as it would. The scissors separated correspondingly above her hand and his balls slipped vulnerably in between the open blades below, one on either side.

"Are you going to keep properly still?" She asked angrily, as she noticed her watch on the worktop, its face was now smashed, springs poking from the back, and the strap shredded in two pieces.

"Accidents happen, you know" she said menacingly.

She ran the open blades up between his testicles slowly, pressing them in to his skin to underscore her point. Jonathan nodded and tried to keep his breath under control.

The scissors continued their journey up the underside of his penis and came to rest at the tip. The sharp closed blades, were now pointing directly into the very end of his cock. He was very still, only a little movement on his part of a slip on hers and the scissors might have slipped inside him. Then she lowered them very slightly away from his pee slit and down to the smallest of gaps she had created between his penis and the floss noose. She tucked the smaller of the blade tips, inside it. 

One firm snip of the jaws and the cords were cut. The floss stayed put, but she knew that it was no longer tied or tight. She could sense the pain in his face and his penis, ease dramatically, but it still looked very sore.

"You look a little messy down here, you need to clean here regularly. You dirty boy."

"Here let me help you." She offered. 

She turned again to the shelf behind the kitchen table and putting down the blades, lifted off a long plastic tube of 'face butter'. It was an expensive smelling brand, designed to help her aging complexion stay young, but also adaptable for the job literally about to be in her hands.

She unscrewed the cap and squeezed first one and then two, generous globs or 'pats' of butter, onto his penis. Looking into his relieved eyes, she now brought both hands to bear. Rubbing the rich buttery mix over and under, up and down, around and along the head, the shaft and the balls she began to work him over, good and proper.

"You had better prepare yourself young man." She said looking up from her work.

Jonathan leant forward and stretched out his arms above Dot's shoulders, to the wall behind her.

The relief on his face was palpable, and his cock swelled to even greater proportions as her hands pulled his foreskin hard, right back, exposing his most sensitive part to her magic. This was something Dorothy had dreamed of, for many weeks now. She smiled inwardly as she his sensitive genitalia as her hands, with their new found skills, slithered and pulled, squeezed and smoothed the butter over him. When she next looked at a cooking recipe and it instructed her to add a 'knob of butter', she would always think of this moment, and Jonathan's buttery knob. His balls, soft, but resilient moved this way and that in their buttery bag as she squeezed them in her palms and scraped her fingernails over them. To Dot, it was only a matter of time before their contents would erupt from their confinement. She guessed he couldn't hold on for long against her ministrations. She adjusted her grip and clamped the fingers of her left hand around his penis and squeezed as hard as she could, letting her nails indent the swollen member. Then with her other hand she teased his pee slit back and forth with her thumbnail, curious to see what would happen next.

She cast him a dirty glance of disgust as she pummelled him. He was staring down at he her mop of cropped black hair and her breasts in the night shirt. Then flipped his head up, screwed his eyes up and pulled an agonised face.

Quite suddenly, Jonathan let out a series of loud moans and his cock twitched violently as if once more, trying to escape her clutches. Then the fountain of youth that was Jonathan, exploded. Dorothy yelped in excitement surprise as, from the tip of his swollen member, a huge jet of cream, flew out. It landed in Dorothy's carefully brushed, bobbed, black hair and it was her turn to cry out again. Another twitch, another glob, this one struck her full, in her open mouth while she was still sounding out her scream of delight. The next hit her head, above her right ear and started to drip down. Twitch followed by another jet, twitch and jet, twitch and jet. A routine soon emerged. Her left hand was now working his balls, squeezing and milking them firmly, keenly, almost desperately, her right hand holding his bucking penis, as she saw it fought to escape her attentions. Even though it had dried a little she still carried on driving his tight foreskin up and down the length of his rigid penis in a determined fashion.

"Yes, let it all out, there must be so much in there young man." She encouraged him looking up again, her expression seriously disgusted but enthusiastic.

A twitch, a jet and then increasingly stringy, white globs, landed very thick and very fast. Up her nose, in her mouth again, on her cheek, her chin, her neck, her forearms, and finally, encouraged by her tightening fist wrapped now around his fast emptying plums, two huge bursts were spat out, on to the tops of her milky breasts exposed as they were between the open neckline of her pyjama top. It was every where, her fingers coated in his cream, and her butter. She licked a dribbling blob off her top lip. It was sweet, sticky and silky, and now she couldn't tell which goo, it was.

Jonathan's face was strained, his balls now drained, but still he leant on the wall for support, affording Dorothy continued and easy access to his groin.

Dorothy was scowling, covered in sticky residues, but determinedly she carried on working him over. She was wringing out everything he had, until the head itself became over-sensitive and then, ignoring his moans, worked him over well beyond that. He tried to pull away, but her relentless fingers would not let go of his steadfastly, erect, manhood.

And it was then, that she woke. She was on her back, in bed, at home, at night, alone. Her husband away on business, yet again, and there was no Jonathan anywhere in sight.

She felt the stickiness on her chest and on her face. She reached up a hand, touched it, and put some to her lips. It tasted cool, creamy and sweet. Had the boy been in the room? Were these delicious deposits his? 

She looked down, saw the tube of the expensive face butter, and realized that she had fallen asleep whilst in the middle of applying it to herself, the evening before. It seemed that the sticky goo lying on her breasts, face and in her hair, had in fact been squeezed out of a plastic rather, than a fleshy tube.

She let out a long, low, slow, moan, of deep disappointment. 

End of part 8.