A gentle breeze stirred the cherry tree leaves as I sat outside on the garden decking. Relaxing on a hot summer's afternoon, the cool breeze was a welcome break from the heat, however brief it lasted. Flowers in bloom, the bees working overtime, birds on the feeders, chirping in the trees…
“Owww… oh crap… dammit!” came an anguished shriek from next door, breaking nature's soundtrack. I had heard my neighbour out in her garden earlier and presumed something had happened.
“Are you ok?” I called out as I jumped up and made my way over to our shared garden fence. Although tall myself, I could not see over the garden fence, topped with a rose-covered trellis.
“Umm, well, I think so,” a voice replied, “I was pruning the roses and fell. I tried to break my fall by reaching out, but grabbed a rose branch, covered in thorns… and, well, let’s just say my hand has souvenirs.”
“Ouch - that must hurt. Would you like some help - I have a first aid kit?”
“Um, yes, thank you,” she replied, “come on round, the side gate is unlocked.”
Passing through my house, I grabbed the first aid kit and made my way around to the front of my neighbour's house, through the side gate, and into the garden. She was sitting on the lawn, her back to me, holding her right hand, with a small three-step ladder laying on its side. A few rose stems lay strewn around; clues to what happened. But then confusion as my neighbour has short blonde hair as the long-haired brunette turned and said thank you for coming round.
“Hi,” I said, “You’re, um, not Christine… but… are you ok?”
“A bit shaken but yes. I’m Sophie, friend of Christine and Simon’s. They’ve gone away for two weeks holiday and I’m house-sitting for them.”
“Hello… I’m Daniel, nice to meet you.” Then smiling, I said, “probably best not to shake hands until we take care of those thorns!”
“Very true,” she laughingly replied as I moved around her and sat down next to her on the grass.
“Now, let me have a look at your hand.” As her right hand moved forward I gently cupped it into my left hand and saw five or six thorns embedded in her palm. “Shouldn’t be a problem, we can easily get those out,” I said, and, as I looked up for the first time, caught sight of her lovely smile and deep brown eyes. My eyes wandered back to her hand, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, down a fitted cream t-shirt with a Maui motif, slim waist, white shorts, when her voice brought me back to the moment.
“… and standing on the top step, I guess I over-reached and lost my balance,” Sophie recounted. “I tried to break my fall by grabbing the trellis, but missed and found the rose branches instead.”
“At least it’s not too serious,” I said. “Let’s get these out.” Thankfully, all the thorns were easily removed as they were intact. Holding her hand in mine, I inspected it for any buried broken thorns, but none were visible. Then a random thought popped into my head and I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Sophie asked.
“Sorry, just remembered an old joke.. seems appropriate! A young girl was playing in the garden, but comes running into the house, crying, tears streaming, and screams, ‘Daddy, Daddy, a thorn pricked my finger.’ ‘It’s ok, Princess,’ says Daddy, ‘I’ll get a plaster.’ ‘No, No’, screams the young girl, ‘we need cider.’ ‘Cider?’ says Daddy. ‘Yes,’ cries the little girl. ‘I heard Mummy saying whenever she gets a prick in her hand she puts it in cider…'” (Inside her…!)
Falling back laughing, Sophie said, without thinking, “I haven't had one of those inside me for a long time.” Sitting back up, blushing, she realised what she’d just said. “Sorry. Bad relationship. Too long, really. Long story.” Sadness filled her eyes while reflecting. “Anyways… thank you for rescuing my hand. Can I offer you a drink… tea, coffee, something stronger?”
“Tea would be nice, thank you. We should wash that hand of yours too, keep the wounds clean.”
The kettle was on as Sophie stood in front of the kitchen sink, soaking her hand under the tap. Seated at the kitchen table I couldn’t help but admire her. She certainly took care of herself: maybe late forties, tall, slim maybe 5’10 - 6ft, long flowing hair, cute bottom in her white shorts with long tanned legs. We chatted for a little while about various things when she asked me if I was free to join her for dinner that night, as a thank you for rescuing a damsel in thorny pain, and be good to have some company too.
“Delighted,” I said, and we agreed on 7:30 pm for drinks.
A nice balmy evening as the sun was low in the sky, I rang the bell and Sophie greeted me with a welcoming smile. She wore a white summer dress with pale yellow flowers, that gently hugged her. Never arriving empty-handed, I presented a Pinot Noir and a white Zinfandel. “Wasn’t sure what you’d prefer” I said.
“Come on through to the dining room, I’ll get some wine glasses,” she replied. Dinner was most enjoyable as we eat and talked about relationships and work and dreams and aspirations… the evening flowed by… as did the wine! She was indeed charming company, knowledgable, witty, and, like myself, well-travelled.
After putting the dishes away we retired to the lounge and sat on the sofa. The radio played Smooth FM with easy listening songs as the wine induced a very relaxing ambiance. Beautifully arranged in a vase on the coffee table were roses from the garden.
“No pricks this time,” she jokingly said noticing my gazing at the flowers.
“Shame,” I said… and then we both laughed remembering my earlier joke.
“Did you mean it?” I asked, “Earlier in the garden I mean, about it being so long?”
“Sadly Yes,” she softly replied. “I was married to a workaholic for nineteen years. He was a very nice guy, but just obsessed with work and his career. We were good together, loved him dearly, but sex and love and being physical weren’t his thing. I tried different ways to encourage him, but to no avail.”
Pausing for a moment, a little melancholic, she continued. “One time, after a long day, he was still working late in our study, so I thought I would surprise him, take his mind off work, and have some fun. Slowly opening our study door, I stood in the doorway, wearing a black low-cut basque, black stockings and suspenders, a teasing g-string, and a black feather boa around my shoulders. ‘Hello handsome,’ I said… ‘let’s play…’ He turned around and looked me up and down and said ‘Really? Now? Sorry, honey, but can’t you see I’m busy? I need to get this project finished,’ and turned back to his computer screen.”
“Wow…” I sighed “… would have loved to see you in sexy lingerie… I’d have jumped over to you in no time. You definitely would have had a bigger prick in your hand… Oooops, sorry, I know… too many rose puns, we’ll leaf them alone and branch out to other subjects!”
Giggling, Sophie responded, “Rambling on about roses again? We’ll have to nip that in the bud!”
“Good job you didn’t say bush roses…” I commented, to which we both fell about laughing.
“I’ll have you know my bush is neatly trimmed, thank you!” she offered.
As if the radio was listening, right on cue, “I wanna lay you down on a bed of roses…”
“Dance?” I asked without thinking, looking into her dark brown eyes.
“Um, yes, sure,” she softly replied.
Standing, I took her right hand in my left as my right arm encircled her, resting in the small of her back. She leaned close to me, her soft hair caressed my cheek as she swayed. Becoming more comfortable, she nestled more against me, her sweet perfume, her warm body… the wine… the music…
She moved her arms up around my neck as she lay her cheek on my shoulder. Instinctively, I kissed her soft hair. She turned to face me, her eyes half open, her lips so close… Tentatively, I kissed her softly. Tender, and warm. Her arms started holding tighter, soft kisses growing in intensity as pulses quickened. In an instant she stopped and stepped back, her eyes never leaving mine, a look of trepidation, uncertainty….
But fear turned to longing as she nervously reached behind herself and slowly unzipped her dress. The cotton fabric loosened, and then she reached up and slid the straps of her summer dress off her shoulders one at a time. With a slight wiggle, her dress fell to the floor. Standing in just panties, her slim body, small perfect breasts with lovely nipples, her long legs…
“You look gorgeous,” I said.
“You’re not just saying that… are you?”
“No, not at all. Easy to prove if you don’t mind another prick in your hand.” I smiled. That relaxed her as she smiled with me.
My hands reached out inviting hers to take them, and I pulled her slowly towards me. As we embraced, I let my hands wander to trace the contours of her body. She trembled slightly at the touch.
A feeling of nervous anticipation and excitement, responding to each different sensation. Her kiss became more passionate, deeper, tongues dancing, arousal growing. She eased away and stepped back to unbutton my shirt, one button slowly after another, until opening and reaching to touch my chest. Her fingers lingered as they moved down over my stomach to feel for my trouser belt. My hand reached to caress her hair as she looked down in concentration and expectation. Belt undone, button open and sliding the zip she pushed my trousers down my legs. My hard erection strained against my briefs as her hand brushed over it in that movement. She glanced up as if to see if it was ok… It seemed her uncertainty and insecurity had built up during her marriage, but passion was yearning to be freed. Each caress, each kiss… her confidence slowly grew bolder.
Leaning forward and kissing her, my mouth moved down her neck, kissing my way to her chest, seeking out those sweet breasts. Teasing around her nipple, kissing, gently licking, until taking one inside my mouth and playing with my tongue. She drew a sharp breath and pulled me onto her breast, enjoying the feelings. My hand reached up and cupped the other, thumb and finger softly squeezing the nipple. Hard now, responding to each squeeze and suck and lick… her pulse racing.
“I… um… can we,” she began, “it’s been… a… while.”
“It’s ok,” I said, “whatever you are most comfortable with.” With that, I pulled my briefs down, stepped back and sat back down on the sofa, extending my hands to invite her to join me.
She stood for a moment in front of me, then lowered her panties, stepped forward and then moved to straddle me on the sofa. She ran her fingers through her hair as she pushed it back over her shoulders. Getting comfortable, her soft thighs resting on mine, her hand reached down to touch my hard member that stood proud between us. She watched intently as she lightly stroked my cock, feeling each response to her movements. She looked up into my eyes and said, "I want to feel you inside me."
Lifting up and moving forward, she held my cock in one hand as she slowly rubbed her pussy across the tip, slowly back and forth. I could feel her wetness, so warm, so wet, rising expectations as she moved. Teasing open her pussy lips, she slowly lowered herself, easing downwards, savouring the feelings, eyes closed in dreamy pleasure, her mouth sighing and lightly moaning, deeper, lower, until she rested on my thighs again.
She slowly gyrated her hips, feeling deep sensations long locked away. Slowly rocking back and forth, building a little momentum. Her look of pleasure was captivating. My hands rose, caressing her thighs, up across her tummy, tracing her curves, reaching her breasts, holding one in each hand as I started to play with her nipples. In response she reached up and placed her hands over mine, and squeezed hard, putting more pressure on her nipples and breasts. Savouring the lust for pleasure, Sophie ground her abdomen to mine… her pussy filled as she rocked her hips side to side, forward and back.
Her movements quickened, as she started to lift herself up and lower down, riding from a trot to a cantor, impaling herself on my shaft, enjoying the ride. Now and again she paused, letting her swollen clitoris grind against the base of my cock. Her breathing quickened, her moans and sighs grew stronger, wanting to enjoy the primeval feelings, but so wanting to reach orgasm - so long ago… so missing from her life, so wanting now, so wet, so longed for…
I could feel deep inside her, each thrust downwards having its effect… feeling harder, nerves going into overdrive… tingling, rising, muscles tensing. Her hands lunged forward to hold my shoulders, steadying herself as her momentum increased. Lust and carnal desire were taking hold as she rode faster, feeling the intensity growing. A few more thrusts and she froze, quivering, shaking as her orgasm hit. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she threw back her head in delirious pleasure. As her pussy muscles squeezed it tipped me over the edge and I came deep inside her, my cock pulsing with each spurt.
“Oh my,” she said breathlessly, “that was so good… I haven’t… I mean I did… um, you did too… I can feel you… oh my…” as she leaned forward towards me.
I lifted my hand and stroked her hair, brushing it back out of her face, and pulled her towards me and kissed her. Her arms locked around my head in a warm embrace, before leaning back and then fidgeting to snuggle up into my neck and chest. A relaxing sigh emanated from her.
Then she laughed…
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Well,” she mused “a funny thought just popped into my head. That’s one prick I don’t want you to pull out.”
