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  • The Garden Shed Opens its Door Ch. 03

The Garden Shed Opens its Door Ch. 03

12

Chapter 3 - Feeding the fish

Gary had said to Melanie that he had no plans to get another job. As far as he was concerned he was retired - after all he was nearly sixty. Occasionally he felt a little guilty about 'not contributing to society' but, to be fair, he had been working since he was seventeen. It seemed, however, the world was not going to leave him alone to simply be retired. Perhaps it was his fault in talking about his gardening to his golfing chums but he soon found not just Melanie but others were getting him to do a spot of gardening for them. It brought in some extra beer money and he did not totally mind. It got him out and about, plus it was good seeing what other people did in their gardens - in the gardening sense mostly! The not quite gardening activity with Melanie, even if it had involved a hoe, had been more than a surprise - very much more than a surprise.

Like many gardens Gary's had an ornamental pool but he was not an avid water gardener which was why he was a little surprised to find himself naked one morning in a large ornamental pond that was not his own and with the water very nearly up to his testes.

Gary had not simply woken and found himself magically transported there. He had been asked to do a spot of gardening and not for one of his usual chums, but rather he had been recommended by one of them to another club member. Mark Gamble was clearly successful - a very busy businessman with his own firm and with no time for gardening but seemingly time enough for golf! Gary had been approached and had agreed to 'give it a go.'

A modern house on what might be called an 'executive' estate quite a few miles from Gary's home though not far from the golf club. No doubt to many on the rather exclusive estate the proximity to the golf was a very distinct advantage. Mark had shown Gary around and left him to it with a key to the side gate. That had been two or three weeks ago and Gary had been around a few times and done a fair bit of work in the garden. A stranger's garden was not the sort of place really to take your clothes off and Gary had gardened unusually well dressed, if you could count the old tee shirt and jeans as 'well dressed.' Of course most gardens are rather visible to neighbouring houses. Mark's was not. It was actually not overlooked and was generous with the plot. Gary could have gardened as he normally did.

The note from Mark pinned to the wooden bird table asking about the pond had been a surprise. The fountain was not working and could he do anything about it?

Gary did not have much of an idea about ponds and fountains but he was willing to have a go. Checking the isolation switch was off he prepared to have a look.

Ponds of course contain water and water is wet. Denim and water are not a good mix. In fact denim is a very poor material to be wearing in the rain - it is uncomfortable and takes forever to dry. Gary knew that from experience. It would be worse in a pond. Gary had not brought waders and, indeed, did not possess any. He thought of going to buy a pair but it seemed much easier simply to take his trousers off. He was not too keen on getting wet underpants either and having got that far it was as easy to take his tee shirt off as well.

And so there was Gary in Mark's back garden looking like he normally did in his very own back garden - the naked gardener. He was even devoid of boots and socks. There he was standing close to the house on the decking ready to step into the water completely naked. He hoped the fish did not start nibbling his scrotum.

The water was a bit cold but not unpleasant given the mounting heat of the morning. Carefully Gary threaded his way around the plants in their underwater containers, watching the large fish swimming away from him as he stepped deeper down into the pond towards the fountain.

He was just bending to pick up the fountain unit from the bottom of the pond to bring it back to the side and onto the decking for inspection when the patio doors opened and out stepped Mark's wife, Heather. He had met her when he had first come around but there had been no car in the drive when he arrived that day and he had been sure no one was at home. How wrong could he be!

"Hallo Gary, what is wrong with the fountain then?"

She seemed completely unfazed by the sight of Gary completely starkers in her pond. No hand to mouth and rushing back inside quivering with fright. Instead she came out onto the decking.

"I... I'm just getting the fountain unit. I didn't want to get my trousers all wet."

"I can see that... or anything else it seems!"

Heather was about thirty as far as Gary could judge and very pleasant to look at. She was wearing a light cotton white dress with straps to the shoulder. Heather made to sit with her legs over the decking and down into the water. Down in the pond and with the sun behind him Gary watched feeling exposed and rather perturbed. What would Mark say when Heather told him about finding Gary naked in the pond? Heather did not quite do the ladylike way of sitting down and with the sun shining straight at her Gary received the most remarkable view of her legs not simply below the white dress but up into it; not just of tanned thighs and insides of thighs but on up to the top of the thighs to where, he was amazed to see Heather was not actually wearing any panties. Her dress was seemingly all she had on. Her fair hair, her long fair hair, was matched down below.

"I don't know yet. I am just getting it." He bent again and picked up the fountain unit giving him an even better view of Heather. He should not have looked of course but he was a man, a man interested in such things and a man keen to be able to recall such things in the privacy of his garden shed.

There for him to see was her lovely little hairy sex and, with the sun shining straight on, he could see even the little pink bits poking out - yes labia minor and clitoral hood, the pink, frilly, soft little bits! She sat there on the decking with her legs a little apart and dangling in the water and still Gary could see her sex and, as a man would, he responded giving her the undoubted 'thumbs up.' Only, of course, it was not his thumb.

It was a bit unfortunate he was in the middle of the pond. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. Holding the fountain unit and his erection coming.

"Here it is." He meant the fountain unit.

"Well, yes, so I can see!"

He tried hiding 'it' with the fountain unit.

"No leave it be"

It was at just that moment that his foreskin chose to fully retract. Gary could feel it rolling back the last bit on its own bringing his whole knob into prominence - his corona revealed! No wonder the Greeks saw the glans as so rude - the action was so clearly sexual. He dared not look down. He knew the knob would have been visible in outline under the foreskin but actually having the knob out in the open was surely a different matter entirely.

There Gary was like a garden gnome with a fishing rod in a pond - only not much of a rod!

"Why Gary! Is that for me?"

"I am so sorry."

"No don't be." She giggled, "I've always wanted a garden gnome for the pond but Mark can't stand them. If only you had the hat. But what a funny little erection. Oh, sorry, sorry. I'm being so rude but it is a bit like I'd imagine a garden gnome's to be - stumpy and thick. So different from Mark's. His is so long but, I think in the other dimension, slender is the word. Yours is..."

Gary stood amazed. Heather was discussing his cock and comparing it to Mark's. She seemed quite content staring at his penis. Was her lack of panties and immodest way of sitting deliberate. He could not help looking up her dress. Did her legs then open just a little wider?

"Yours is not so much the soaring cathedral spire in Perpendicular lightness: more the squat Norman tower; solid, massive and firmly founded. No, that won't do, won't do at all. Norman towers are square. Perhaps you are like the old Saxon round towers, rugged and strong. Norman just does not work. Square pegs in round holes so to speak." She laughed.

It was such an enclosed sun trap. Hot and pleasant. Gary carried the fountain unit towards the decking, the lead going that way. He would inspect it out of the pond. It brought him closer to Heather. Gary was so conscious of his nakedness and of his erection. If he concentrated on the fountain unit perhaps it would go down.

"May I?" Her hand reached and held. Gary stared, she had just reached out and taken hold of his erection. There he was still standing in the pond, still with the fountain unit in his hand and this young woman was holding him - holding him by the penis.

"It really is ever so thick, Gary. And what a lovely big knob you've got. Don't I just sound like Little Red Riding Hood - my what a big knob you've got, granny!" Again the laugh. "Not so much granny as perhaps grandpa, eh?"

Gary did not know what to say. Yes, he had become used to women playing with him but not quite so suddenly or so immediately.

"Let's cover it up." Gary was wide eyed. Not only was Heather holding him but her fingers gently moved his foreskin, rolling it up over his knob. And she did not just cover him up but then uncovered him again. She was wanking him in her pond.

"And just look at these hanging down here. My, what big balls you've got... I wonder what the Big Bad Wolf replies to that? Do you think it is, 'all the better to fuck you with' or something else?"

"I..."

Gary was completely at a loss to know where this was leading. He soon found out.

"Shall we feed the fish?"

Gary looked around for the tub of fish food.

"No, silly." And then Gary realised just what Heather meant as her hand holding him began to slide his foreskin with a little more purpose.

"Go on. Let me see you cum. I like to see a man cum. I've never seen a garden gnome cum."

It was nice, very nice, to be gently masturbated by an attractive woman in the sunshine of her garden. It was not at all what he had expected to happen that morning but Gary Roldern was always happy for a woman to take him in hand. Her other hand moved and cupped his balls, lifting them and seemingly weighing them.

"Do you just dribble or spurt, Gary? I like men to really cum. Do you? Is it going to be like rain pattering on the pond - warm summer rain?" Her hand gently squeezed his balls. "These do seem awfully big, Gary. It matches your knob. I bet women like that being pushed home. It must feel very nice. Mark's is so fine to look at - and it goes a long way - but sometimes it seems to, you know, hardly touch the sides." Again the laugh. "If you know what I mean. You're not married, are you Gary?"

"Not any more."

"Girlfriend?"

"No."

"What do you do, Gary. Do you wank a lot, like this?" She was showing him all right.

"I have friends..."

"How nice. Friends to help you out!" Her hand squeezed firmly, forcing blood even more strongly into his knob making it swell a little more.

"Like a big, ripe plum ready to be plucked." She held the shaft in one hand as the fingers of her other hand pulled at his knob. "I wonder how juicy it will be? Is there going to be a lot of juice from your plum, Gary?"

A pause, the fingers removed and Heather just stared at the big swollen knob. She squeezed again and, indeed, a little juice seeped out.

"Looks promising, Gary." And she recommenced the wank.

It was amazing. It was going to happen any moment.

"Heather, are you sure. I mean. I... I am cumming."

And he was. Heather's hand speeding up but tightly holding him and as Gary stared at himself the ejaculation began and, as always, Gary did not let himself down. Not at all. Big spurts of man cream across the pond, the second a good yard in distance, and spattering down just like Heather's warm rain and then spreading.

Gary watched the semen in the water becoming like clouds. The fish rushing to it and nibbling. It was not going to be wasted. It was clear the fish would have it all. He had not thought of feeding his own fish that way. Another economy idea - a saving on fish food at the Pet Shop!

"Perhaps next time you can feed me." Again the giggle. "You seem to have plenty to spare." Her hand in the water, washing the semen from her fingers. A light smack to his buttocks.

Gary put down the fountain unit on the deck and pulled himself up out of the water bringing his still erect penis on a level with Heather's mouth. She leant forward and for a moment, and she was looking at it, Gary thought she was going to slip her lips over his knob.

"Very nice, Gary, perhaps next time. Can you get it going again - the fountain I mean - and I mean the water fountain." She laughed. "I mean not your fountain thing but the one from the pond."

"I'll try."

"Tea or coffee."

There seemed not a lot of point getting dressed and Gary sat at a table taking the unit apart drinking tea with Heather.

"You're brown all over."

"Um, yes." Gary knew where this was leading.

"Are you a naturist?"

"Sort of. I garden at home like this. In the summer anyway."

"Feel free to here as well. It's very private. I don't mind at all and nor will Mark. We have a very open marriage - we 'swing' you see."

"Oh. Um. Variety the spice of life and all that." What did you say to such a comment?

Gary thought back later over his visit to Mark and Heather's to sort out the pond and his role as a garden gnome... with a rod... for fishing. Heather had talked of 'swinging.' Of course he knew the term but he looked it up later in the dictionary nonetheless:

'Swinging, also known as wife swapping or partner swapping is a non-monogamous behaviour practised by humans, in which spouses or partners in a committed relationship engage in sexual activities with others as a recreational or social activity.'

Gary had smiled at the understated 'recreational or social activity.' But that had been so much what he had engaged in with Zoe and Zara - yes, a recreational activity. Well, except when he was seeking to get Zoe pregnant. That was different!

A recreational activity indeed and he supposed it was a social activity too though that seemed to imply more people. Presumably 'swingers' did that. Meeting at people's houses for a meal and then splitting up perhaps without pre-determined partners for sex. He had heard of car keys being thrown in a heap and partners being decided by whose key was picked. It must be so strange sitting at table or standing with a glass in hand and not knowing who in the room you were going to 'couple' with later. Perhaps a complete stranger. Looking across the room at a really big breasted woman and thinking you had never handled a pair like that before; or perhaps there would be women of a different skin hue to your own and wondering about that and getting excited; or perhaps finding at the party a woman you had lusted after many years ago at school and might now, on the luck of the keys, get to play together with and - yes - fuck!

Was the social activity sometimes even more social? Not a splitting up to different houses for the night or separate bedrooms but a communal social activity - group sex or, if you like an orgy,. Perhaps the drinks party itself might be naked; initially with no touching but the host or hostess setting the rules. Not so much 'Gentlemen you may now smoke' as 'Gentlemen you may now touch.'

Or perhaps the hostess moving around and pairing people up. Perhaps coloured wrist bands or a sticker applied to the back so others could see who was paired with whom but the person in question unable to see who he or she was paired with and having to work it out by deduction. Finding a colour where there seemed to be only one sticker and that on a person of the opposite sex.

Perhaps the hostess permitting boobs to be fondled and then the important command, 'All men to be erected.' But with all the breast fondling would there be many who were not! Gary knew he would be embarrassed not from just being tumescent with other men but moreover his cock being so obviously shorter - by a long way - than everyone else. Not visible in its relaxed state: it looked normal enough then, he would feel safe being merely naked, but once it started to grow... Well it did not really grow length ways, just fattened out a lot and stood up. The possible disappointment on his allocated partner for the evening's face, perhaps the sympathetic glances - or maybe contemptuous glances - of the other men checking out his 'tackle.'

A sexual charge to the air. The chatting and drinking carrying on but all the men kept hard by a gently stroking feminine hand. A hand the man was unfamiliar with, a hand that he was not used to playing with his cock. And across the room his own wife or partner's hand on a stranger's cock, manipulating it, fondling it - playing with it. Exciting for some men: perhaps disturbing for others to know their wife was about to be fucked by that man. Seeing her smile as she played with the other man's genitalia. The penis she was so carefully fingering across the room shortly to be inside her and releasing man fluid.

'Ladies please prepare to suck.' Wonderful to see all the women on their knees and preparing to suck their allocated partners cock. The cocks suddenly up close and very personal - looming in front of them, foreskins - if present - peeled back and the shiny knobs exposed. A stranger's penis, different probably from their husband's. Bigger, smaller, fatter, thinner, craggier, smoother, darker, lighter, more pointy, a mushroom head... Staring and then perhaps tentative licks like on an ice cream. The more brazen perhaps going straight for the little eye in the crown of the knob, perhaps to taste a little pre-cum; their pink tongues extended and tickling.

'Ladies suck!' And the hostess too doing just that.

Perhaps then the ladies being asked to lie down and 'reveal.' An opening of legs before the men are required to return the favour. Pudendas opened and revealed for all to see. Some women for the first time feeling the erotic tickle of a moustache or penetration by an unusually long tongue and what a pleasure that must be!

Perhaps the hostess continuing her supervision of the party. Perhaps specifying the position to be taken for intercourse - or positions indeed. Perhaps starting with 'doggy style.' The command to 'get ready,' How amusing to have all these naked adults crawling around the floor on hands and knees, men with their penises and balls hanging like, well, like bulls in the field, the women's breasts hanging and swaying like, well, udders! Everyone's bottom hole exposed like a cat or dog with its tail raised - no modesty at this party! Everyone milling around admiring the other bodies and then 'Gentlemen - cover.' And the men looking for their colour sticker and rising up on the back of their woman for the night and sinking their penis into, probably to them, an unexplored vagina.

Plenty of positions - but will the hostess be able to command the orgasms? Hardly with the women and probably not with the men!

And what happens when all the men have come? Is there a prize for the first man to get erect - or be erected - again. Does he get to fuck whom he chooses - even his wife/partner whose vagina is slippery with another man's semen - or is the done thing, the polite thing, to choose the hostess of the evening? Perhaps the done thing for all the men to at least enter her... and perhaps for the host to enter all the women.

It was all a very typical Gary daydream. Leaving his dictionary he wandered out into the sunshine and down his own garden path delightfully erect at his recent thoughts. Lovely to think about sex, lovely to undertake sex, lovely to walk erect in your own garden and actually, thought Gary as he opened his old shed door and settled himself comfortably on his chair, nice to have a quiet little wank on your own, sometimes in your very own garden shed. He had come that morning at Heather's, had come by command of her hand and he had enjoyed the feeding of the fish very much. Had even been amused at the comparison made of him with a garden gnome. Perhaps he should grow his beard again! Yes, indeed, he had come that morning but that did not mean he could not come again that afternoon.

12
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