It's not hard to imagine your own perfect paradise, close your eyes and what do you see? More than likely a watery image will come to mind, maybe a tropical beach or a cool mountain stream. Whatever you see I bet there's water not far away, there's always pure clean water in paradise.
In the real world perfection is hard to find, there's usually something that spoils things and in my little paradise it's the old pram that's been dumped in the pond. It's not alone, the inevitable shopping trolley is there keeping it company, both abandoned forever and slowly rotting away.
The water's not so clean either, but the tadpoles don't seem to mind, they look happy enough and there's hundreds of them this year, I've never seen so many in my secret pond. There's reeds now as well, and the bright yellow monkey flowers have spread everywhere since I was last here years ago. Nature's winning, but not for much longer, she's fighting a losing battle this time.
"I used to come here almost every day when I was a kid," I tell my husband.
"Really?" He says, sounding surprised I wasn't always a girlie girl.
"Twink found it, I followed him here."
"That was some dog," he replies.
He's not kidding, Twink was my mum's Jack Russel. He was supposed to be a docile little lap dog, hence the stupid wet name. But Twink was no pansy for petting, he was a hard case and this wasteland with it's hidden pond was his territory. He had only one way of greeting other dogs that came to look, and that was to attack them no matter what their size or number. He was covered in battle scars and he really was quite mental.
"They're going to concrete this all over," I say to my man.
"That's progress babe."
"Is it? They could at least save the pond."
"It's a dump babe."
I can't believe he said that, I can't believe he doesn't see the beauty right there in front of him. He can't see beyond the junk, the wild flowers are invisible to his eyes, and how come he doesn't hear the birdsong? Didn't he notice the little tiny fish jumping just then? This place is a paradise, or is it only me or Twink in his day that could see it?
We sit down on the long wild grass and I point out each magical thing, like the water beetle running on the skin of the water, busying himself until he's snatched away by a bird swooping down to grab him for dinner. Nature can be cruel as well as beautiful.
There's life all around us and the longer we sit silently watching the more it reveals itself. We become part of the environment and gradually my husband realises why I love this little dump of a pond so much. I think of Twink and the adventures we had here and the mess we'd both be in by the time we got home for supper. No matter what game we played Twink would always end up in the smelly water and more often than not me with him.
"Where will the frogs go?" I ask, breaking the silence.
"They'll find somewhere."
"Where? There's nowhere left around here."
"Well I don't know, garden ponds I suppose."
"What garden ponds? It's all offices and apartments."
"Well I..." and he's run out of answers because there aren't any.
At least the frogs will have chance to hop away from the bulldozers, but what chance for the tadpoles and all the other water bound creatures? They'll be trapped and doomed to be buried alive, whole generations will be lost forever under the rubble.
We lay back and stare at the clear blue sky and I feel all melancholy about losing such a wonderful part of my childhood. Maybe I shouldn't be so sentimental, maybe I should yield to this progress and see the beauty in the new office block and car park that's replacing the pond. Fat chance of that though.
My husband tickles my face with a blade of grass, teases me in an effort to cheer me up. I do love him so much, he knows what I'm like and how I upset myself over just about anything. He kisses me on the lips and I respond, we could make love here, there's no one to see and it would be a nice final memory of my special private place.
"We could er, we could maybe..." and he's being all cautious about saying something.
I think he's had the same thought and wants to fuck me, but he's worried it's not appropriate seeing as I'm feeling so sad about my pond. But I'm not that soppy and hopeless, I rub his crotch to encourage him and feel him swell and throb in his jeans.
Our kissing is passionate yet slow and gentle, and as we kiss we feel for each other, him lifting my skirt to pull aside my panties while I skillfully undo his flies with one hand. I free his lovely big cock as his fingers play with my pussy and when I'm nice and wet he makes his move to take me.
Last time something like this happened here I was sixteen and dating a boy called Steve that I didn't even like very much. I think it was his name that put me off, Steffanie and Steve sounded silly and wrong but I just felt the need to have a boyfriend. Twink didn't much like me bringing Steve along, this was our place and strangers weren't welcome and perhaps he was jealous his teenage mistress had found a new playmate. So when my acned young suitor made his advances, Twink went nuts and attacked him with his usual vigor.
"That dog's fucking crazy," cried out Steve, hastily putting his unused cock back in his trousers before Twink had a chance to go for such a sensitive target.
"He thinks he's protecting me," I said in Twink's defense.
I thought it was all rather funny but Steve didn't think so. Adolescent boys don't have much patience when they get horny and he stormed off in frustration that I was taking Twink's side. I was quite relieved to be rid of him and never dated him again.
Twink's not here now to save his mistress from getting fucked, but I think he might have accepted my husband. Or more likely not I suppose. I don't know, I don't care when I feel that familiar big cock in my pussy and we start slowly humping away on the grass.
It's the gentlest of loving we share, the mood isn't right for hard fucking. It's a time to show tenderness and caring, a time to delight in the bond we have between us. He fucks me slowly and gets slower until he comes to rest with his cock deep inside me. We lay there looking at each other and I can tell he's got an idea whirring away in his mind.
"I was going to suggest making our own pond," he tells me. "You know, just something small, nothing too ambitious."
"Really? Could we?" and my mind's already racing off imagining the possibilities.
"Sure," he says, "we could rescue some of your precious tadpoles."
Oh there he goes, pretending he doesn't really care, that it's just me that's soft about wildlife. But I've converted him now and it's in his nature to come up with practical solutions to any kind of problem. He's replaced my sadness with hope, and hope is a wonderful thing, it's invigorating and exciting and I show my new found excitement by thrusting my hips hard against him.
We fuck properly now, him speeding up and slamming that cock back and forth in me. I wrap my legs around him to trap him and keep him inside me, have him grind and screw me and it's lovely getting fucked outdoors in the sunshine, with God knows how many little animal eyes secretly watching our performance.
Like always, my man is as good as his word and over the next few days our new garden pond rapidly takes shape. He gets his best mate, Dopey Derek, to help out and he's perfectly suited to hard labor with his big muscles and frame. He's not so dopey, he just can't keep his mouth shut and any secrets my hubby has told him are now common knowledge in our small circle of friends and acquaintances.
I like Derek, he's a big giant softy and I can live with everyone knowing I'm my hubby's slut in the bedroom. Some of our more kinky games I'd have preferred not to have been news and discussed in the pub, but this time Derek's big mouth pays dividends. We get more volunteers to help with our waterworld and it's all rather heart warming to see hard acting guys giving up their beer time to save a few frogs. They all act the same way, poking fun at me for getting upset about my dump of a pond, but they don't fool me, they quietly care and want to put something back and help nature out if they can.
When it's finished it doesn't look much, there isn't time for fancy landscaping before the bulldozers start work. Our pond is more like a water filled shell hole than a feature from the Palace of Versailles. But imagination fills the gaps, that muddy heap will have buddleia bushes and their pretty purple flowers will be covered in butterflies. There'll be white lilies in the water and I'll bring a few monkey flowers from the old pond and plant them all around.
I'll save all I can from the wasteland, any pond life will be welcome and not just frogs and their babies. I don't know much about biology, but enough to know that all little creatures and plants have their place, and the more variety I bring the better the chance they'll survive the transition. Doubtless many won't make it, but some will pull through to seize their chance of a new beginning, and their circle of life will continue.
Hubby comes with me on the first rescue mission, I get him scooping up buckets full of mud and pond slime, while I paddle about in my wellington boots catching tadpoles and whatever else I can trap in my net.
"Tell me again, why I am I doing this?" he asks me, as if he doesn't know.
"To make the pond life feel at home when we move them."
"Right," he says, and returns to his muddy task while I carry on with my hunting and catch my first frog. I think this is great fun and really romantic in a funny kind of way. They say sex keeps a marriage together, and it does, but you can't base a marriage only on sex, you've got to share other interests and what better than something creative like this. My man thinks the same way, well sort of.
"I've got a new fetish babe," he tells me.
"Oh God, what now? Mud I suppose?"
"Kind of. It's you in that short skirt and wellies. Especially the wellies."
"I'll add wellington boots to the kinky list then?"
"Sure thing, Pond Girl."
Pond Girl? He's as bonkers as Twink was in his own weird way, but I love knowing he's happy and he can fuck me as his Pond Girl if he likes. One thing for sure though he'll have to do me here at the pond again because I'm not wearing muddy boots in the house. I've got some standards left that I live by.
We make quite a few more trips to the wasteland until one day we arrive to find a tall metal fence blocking our way. That's it, the contractors have started and I've had my last view of my childhood paradise. Nothing more can be rescued and what we've saved will have to make the best of their new world.
I know our new pond will take time to establish. But by next year nature will start rewarding our efforts and flower with her first summer display. Our pond will be in balance by then and full of new life. We'll invite all those that helped us to a barbecue, inspire them to create their own little watery paradise.
I'll flower too as an extra thank you to my man for seeing things from my point of view. I'll dress up as Pond Girl again in my short skirt and wellies, when the barbecue is in full swing we'll slope off for a while behind the garage or shed and I'll give him my best slutty blow job. I'll suck his cock like a whore and let him make a real mess of me, he'll love that, and he could tell Dopey Derek all about it.
I won't mind Derek gossiping about how I sucked off my hubby at the barbecue, because by then everyone will know that I'm not just a sex crazy slut. They'll know I'm an Aquarian sex crazy slut - so I'm nuts about pond life as well.
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<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-stories/pond-life.aspx">Pond Life</a>