Gardener's Tip

This brief story could got under either the Interracial or Anal categories.

***

The middle-aged woman looked out the window at the young drifter mowing the tall grass and weeds her husband humorously called a lawn in the grueling heat, the temperature and humidity making his ebony skin glisten in the sun, and then she looked at the five crumpled dollar bills the poor guy was going to make for doing a job her husband was too lazy to do himself.

She hadn't said anything when she watched as her cheapskate husband made the guy lower his price until finally agreeing to pay the guy five bucks for what would be over an hour's work, because the time she had suggested he pay the last guy a bit more she got backhanded for her impudence along with an accusation that she seemed to love "that kind".

"That kind" was as polite as her redneck husband ever got when he would refer to a black, Hispanic or just about any other race other than his own, and his lack of tolerance extended to just about every other group too.

"I hate you," Martha Fredrick said softly as she looked at the pot bellied pig with the quart of Utica Club on the table next to him, and to say she didn't recognize that he was the same fresh faced teen that swept her off her feet over 30 years ago would be a vast understatement. "Why am I here?"

That was a question that she often asked herself while trying to keep this rundown place livable in between working nights cleaning office buildings in town, frequently walking the mile and a half back and forth when there was no money for gas or their old wreck was out of commission.

Why indeed? Where else can I go was always her answer to that question, and these days she was the only one who ever posed that question since

Martha's family gave up asking long ago when they realized that they were talking to themselves.

"The only person that thinks less of you than that slob you married is you yourself girl!" Martha's sister had said the last time they had talked, and Martha didn't reply because she knew her sister was right. "Disabled my ass. His legs have no problem getting up to get beer out of the ice box when you're out of ear shot, and his arms work alright when he smacks you around when he blames you if he can't get it up."

Nothing hurts like the truth, Martha realized, and although hearing her sister throw things back in her face that she told her in confidence stung, she couldn't deny it. That was why she had started to squirrel away a little money - nickles and dimes mostly - and was determined that when she had enough to get some kind of fresh start, she would go.

From the other room over the din of roller derby or wrestling or whatever was blaring, Mel's ranting had subsided. That might have meant that he had run out of explatives or had fallen asleep, and that relative silence was a blessing of sorts.

Out in the yard the black man was nearly done, and while it looked alright to Martha - a hell of a lot better than it had when the town sent another notice last week that it needed to be mowed - it wouldn't be good enough for Mel when he saw it. That might earn her another slap or worse for paying the guy the money, but that was better than waking him up to inspect the job and subjecting the guy to more abuse.

The black guy might not have heard her husband's ranting over the roar of the mower but maybe he did. Martha had heard it and it made her sick. Not because she necessarily loved "that kind" more than any other kind, but because she was tired of it all. Tired of all the hate and everything else around this place, and if she had the nerve and a bullet - they had the gun around somewhere but no ammo - she didn't know who she would shoot, him or herself.

Making sure Mel was still out like a light, Martha got a bottle and filled it with cold tap water, and before the man could get up to the door and knock she stepped out and headed the shining man off.

"Here, you look like you could use this," Martha said, and as she handed him the bottle she soaked in the smile she got in return."

"Thank you. Much obliged," the young man said as his bright teeth lit up the porch. "It's a scorcher today."

"That it is," Martha replied, and after she watched the young fellow with the big ears and toothy grin down the quart in one swallow she took the empty back and reluctantly handed the man the dollar bills.

"Does your father want to check the work?"

"Husband," Martha corrected.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Me too," Martha deadpanned, drawing a chuckle from the mowing man.

"At least you still have your sense of humor."

"I'm sorry it's not more," Martha apologized as she looked at the bottle which would likely be smashed if Mel saw who drank out of it.

"The man is a hard negotiator."

"Among other things," Martha responded. "I'm sorry. What's your name?"

"Isaiah."

"I'm Martha," she replied while extending her hand, and although the man was surprised he shook it gently while the woman wondered whether Mel would just break it or chop it off if he saw that. "Isaiah. That's a pretty name. It's from the Bible or something isn't it?"

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed. I will strengthen you and help you, " Isaiah said before shrugging. "That's part of something from that part of the Bible, but I don't remember the rest. Afraid I'm not very religious but some of the words stuck with me."

"I'm not either," Martha admitted. "Let's see, Abandon hope all who enter here. Is that from the Bible?"

"No," Isaiah chuckled. "I think that's something else all together. Well, it's nice to have met you, and if I ever need five bucks bad enough, maybe we'll meet again."

"Isaiah?" Martha whispered as the young man started to leave. "Can I give you a tip?"

"Besides don't bet on the horses?" Isaiah said with a smile before he watched the middle-aged woman slowly lift her house dress, exposing first her white socks and then the pale skin of her slightly plump legs.

When Martha had the dress up to her waist, showing Isaiah the wide jungle of dark brown hair that was hiding her sex, her eyes were screwed shut and her teeth were digging into her lower lip. Hearing nothing from the man in front of her she opened her eyes and saw the look on his face.

"Not much of a tip is it? I can't believe I just did that," Martha whispered after she lowered her dress. "I know what I must look like these days. I'm sorry."

"It's not that - it's more like why?" Isaiah asked as his eyes went to the house behind the woman, and as he nodded in that direction he asked, "Is this about getting back at him?"

"Maybe some - but not all."

"You a coal burner?" Isaiah asked, and when Martha said she didn't know what that meant he explained. "One of these white women who likes to screw black guys for kicks?"

"No. To be honest when we shook hands just now I think you were the first black person I ever touched," Martha explained. "We don't have many black folks around here."

"So I noticed. So what it is then about me?"

"I didn't mean it like I never came on to a guy before because I have, more times that I care to admit. I haven't always been like this - I swear - but over the last couple of years... "

"You don't really seem the type," Isaiah said.

"Now you know. If you laughed and walked away I'd understand. Wouldn't be the first time," Martha informed the worker.

"That's not my style."

"I just... I think I..." Martha stammered as she searched for the right words while tears rolled down her cheeks. "I just need to be held."

"Where Martha?"

"The shed. Where you got the mower from," Martha whispered as she wiped her face off. "I'll be back there in a minute."

With that Martha tiptoed into the house, and after hearing a snore that told her Mel was out like a light, tiptoed out the back door even faster and ran to the barn where Isaiah was hopefully waiting.

***

The shed was like everything else at the Fredrick place, in need of a coat of paint or a bulldozer, and even with the door closed enough light came through the slats to make it easy to see. Martha locked the flimsy door behind herself and turned to face Isaiah who was in the process peeling off his sweaty shirt, exposing his glistening ebony skin and an upper torso that was lean but surprisingly muscular.

Martha pulled her house dress up over her head and set it aside while the workman dropped his jeans and slid his boxers down. The aging woman tried not to stare at the long slender dick that wiggled around as he stepped out of the clothes, the uncut organ as black as night.

"Want me to take this off?" Martha asked as she gestured to her worn brasserie.

"Sure - want to see all of you," Isaiah said with a smile as he pulled on his flaccid cock.

"You might change your mind after this," Martha suggested as she reached back and undid the hooks, and after they came free she shrugged the harness off her shoulders. "See?"

Martha shifted her weight self-consciously after her breasts eased down to her stomach, the once perky cones now showing their age, but Isaiah didn't seem to mind.

"You look fine to these eyes Mama," he said as he moved closer to her, and after he got in front of her Isaiah reached around and grabbed her plump bottom and pulled her next to him so that his cock was rubbing into her bush. "Can't you tell?"

Martha smiled as she felt the hardening tool press against her as the workman ground his body into her and she found herself running her hands up and down the slick skin of his back.

"Could you kiss me Isaiah?" Martha asked timidly as she looked up and lifted her face, and he wasted no time in taking the woman up on her offer.

His full lips felt wet and warm against Martha's and he kissed her like he wanted her, his rough hands sliding up her back and up her sides, and when his thumbs slid under her slightly raised arms she giggled and blushed.

"Ticklish?" Isaiah asked.

"No - embarrassed," Martha said as the workman stroked the sprays of hair in her unshaven armpits. "Wasn't expecting company."

"I like it darlin'" Isaiah purred as he caressed the soft tufts of fur with hiss thumbs. "You sure are a furry girl but I like it a lot."

"Guess you do," Martha said as she looked down and saw the man's full blown erection. "Can I suck it first?"

"Sure you can," Isaiah replied as Martha dropped to her knees, dodging the long swaying pole as she knelt.

"Damn," Martha whispered to herself as she reached up and grabbed the ebony rod, marveling at how much bigger it had gotten, because at first it looked much like her husband's in size.

She pumped the shaft, sliding the foreskin back and forth with the movement and exposing the conical head which was lighter in color than the rest of the dusky organ, and then opened her mouth.

"Oh darlin': Isaiah groaned as her pink lips slid halfway down the sleek tool. "So good."

Martha inhaled the musky scent that filled her nostrils, but the sweat wasn't from a lazy slob who didn't bathe but from a man who had busted his ass, and that made it sweet to her.

After a few bobs of her head Martha's mouth was going almost all the way down the 8" cock, her nose brushing against his curly pubic hair as she tried to take him all in, her free hand kneading his low hanging balls as she did.

"Too good," Martha heard Isaiah say as he reached under her arms and lifted her to her feet, and after kissing her again added, "Way too good. Where should we..."

"Over here," Martha said as she went over to a little table and took the box off of it before hopping on the edge and spreading her legs. "Do me a favor Isaiah?"

"Sure."

"I don't know how you feel about it," Martha said as Isaiah came over and stood between her legs, and then she reached up and pulled his head down and whispered in his ear as if there was somebody else that could hear. "Before you - you know - cum? I like it in the ass a lot."

"You do? Hell yeah, but I don't have any..."

Martha was already reaching behind the table as he spoke, and when her hand came out it was holding a jar of Vaseline.

"I'm a well prepared slut," Martha noted dryly as she set the jar to the side and grabbed Isaiah's stiff prong to rub it along her opening. "My pussy's there in the jungle somewhere."

"Hey - why don't you do me a favor now?" Isaiah asked, and when Martha raised her eyes from what she was doing he continued. "I kinda wish you would stop knocking yourself down. I like you and I think you're sexy as hell, so do me a favor and..."

"Sorry," Martha replied as she nodded and went back to rubbing the tip of his cock along the dripping opening. "Feel how wet I am?"

"Sure do," Isaiah grinned.

"I'm so horny I think we'll skip the foreplay," Martha suggested, although foreplay was something she rarely experienced even in the best of times. "Just be gentle at first honey, because I'm not used to anything this big."

"Be glad to," Isaiah agreed as he slowly eased his manhood into the tight wet fold, and as more and more of his long prong disappeared into the aging woman's steaming grotto he watched Martha's eyes roll back in her head.

"Damn!" the woman hissed after the cock was pulled almost all the way out and then back in again, and when Martha looked down to see several inches of black meat still outside of her she gasped.

"So tight," Isaiah groaned as he eased a little more of himself into the vice-like pussy while Martha's face burrowed into his neck, nuzzling and licking the salty skin.

"Thirsty?" Isaiah asked as he kept his throbbing cock still as he watched Martha licking his collarbone. "I'm a dripping mess."

"You're delicious," Martha wheezed in between nibbles, and then she reached over and lifted Isiah's wiry arm. "You taste like a man - a real man."

"Oh!" the workman moaned as he watched the woman bury her face under his arm, playfully lapping the tight curls that filled the hollow before leaning back again. "You are a kinky girl."

"With the right guy I am," Martha replied as she pushed her lower torso into him. "Damn that's so good."

"Still want me to be gentle?" Isaiah asked as he began moving his hips as well, and after Martha gave him a toothy grin and shook her head no he added while impaling her with his entire weapon, "That's good."

Martha muffled her cry into his neck as she wrapped her legs around Isaiah's bottom as best she could, and then the shed was filled with the sound of the squeaking table and the two of them grunting in rhythm as their wet skin slapped together.

The musky little shed was like a sauna, amplifying the outside temperature as well as the humidity as Isaiah thrust into the now-welcoming pussy harder and faster.

They were soon groping at each other like animals, the rickety table slamming against the back wall as the force of Isaiah's brisk fucking was testing the limits of the furniture and the pussy, and soon Martha's hands were clawing the workman's back while she bit into the collarbone hard enough to leave little indentations as she came.

"Fuck," Isaiah grunted as he felt his manhood get crushed in a series of convulsions, fighting not to cum himself as the aging woman smothered her with kisses all over his face as her orgasm finally ebbed.

"So good," Martha sobbed as she held the smooth cheeks of the man who was young enough to be her son. "I needed that so bad."

"We both did," Isaiah agreed.

"You didn't cum did you?" Martha asked, and when she felt the man/child make his erection jump inside her steamy grotto she smiled while reaching over for the lubricant. "Good."

Martha smiled as Isaiah pulled his cock out of her, the glistening cocoa organ swaying around in front of him, and with surprising quickness the middle-aged woman had gone to the lube, frantically rubbing the jelly all over the long black prong before bending over the table.

"Oh yeah," Isaiah growled as he grabbed the pale fleshy buttocks and spread them wide, exposing the puckered ring that was surrounded by curls. "Sweet sweet ass."

"Give it to me," Martha grunted a second before the gardener brought the tip of his weapon to the tiny knot and without further delay pushed his cock into the steaming orifice. "Oh!"

"You do like it, don't you Martha darling?" the black man cackled as he began thrusting hard and briskly, forcing more of his manhood into her with every stroke while the plump woman grabbed the table and grunted in rhythm with the creaking of the platform.

"Harder," was all Martha said, and she kept repeating it as Isaiah's pace kept getting faster, his sweat raining down on her broad back while he tried in vain not to cum.

"Can't," Isaiah wheezed as he lost the battle, and as the cock jerked inside of Martha, coating her savaged bowels with his hot seed, the woman sighed loudly.

Isaiah stayed inside Martha as long as he could, only stepping back after his deflating snake slithered out of her, and then he helped the woman straighten up afterwards.

"Here, let me help," the gardener said when Martha picked up her clothes, letting him put her bra on.

"Better at taking these things off," Isaiah noted as he fumbled with the harness. "Shame to hide these beauties though."

"Guys usually lie before they do you," Martha noted as they got her house dress back on, and after the gardener got dressed they checked each other before going back out into the real world.

"How do we look?" Martha asked.

"Like we just had sex," he replied, drawing a smile from her, and before they left he stopped her before she opened the door. "Can I have another kiss?"

"Absolutely,' Martha responded as she almost jumped into his arms, their hands running over each other's backsides as their tongues dueled for the longest time.

"Ready?" Isaiah asked, and after Martha stepped out of the shed he waited for a minute before he came out himself.

"You did a good job," Martha said as she looked at the patchy lawn before Isaiah left, winking and drawing a grin in return.

"If I pass this way again and I see it needs mowing again, maybe I'll come knocking," Isaiah remarked as he headed down the road.

"Even if it doesn't," Martha responded softly, watching the tall dark man head down the road, waiting until Isaiah disappeared from view before turning around and going back to her reality.

***

Thank you for reading.