Moonlit Garden

The haunting screech of an owl woke me up; it's beautiful cry flitting through the open bedroom window along with an early morning breeze that bore the sweet scent of our garden with it. I smiled contentedly and stretched out my arm, seeking to feel the reassuring comfort of your warm skin beneath my touch; but instead I found only cool, dry cloth. Through bleary eyes I saw your side of the bed, slept in but empty, and a close look at the bedside clock told me it was 1am.

With a yawn and a stretch I clambered out of bed and made my way to the window, looking out at the dark vista that is the Gorge. Below our window the silver moonlight lay over our garden, the rose bushes, trees and shrubs that we had so lovingly cultivated. I looked for you within the silvery confines of our private piece of paradise, knowing your penchant for late night walks; but you were nowhere to be found between the rose bushes and trees.

With another yawn and a scratch I don my glasses and head out the door onto the landing. All is quite up here and the only light comes from the bottom of the stairs. You've probably gone down for some tea or maybe to do some work; you always were a late night worker. I slowly pad down the stairs to the bottom floor of the house, intent on checking that you are ok and finding out when you are coming back up to bed.

The stairs open out onto our lounge and the large double doors that lead to the garden are open, a warm breeze making the curtains billow in luxuriously. The lights are off and the lounge is lit only by the soft silver light of the full moon. While not bright, it's enough to let me see that you aren't here. The jarring sound of heavy wood on tile makes me turn my head to the kitchen and I can see that the door is half-closed but that the light is on inside.

Tea then. Perhaps I could make you your cup if you haven't already made it. I smile to myself as I head down the corridor, the carpeting padding my footfalls. As I get nearer to the kitchen I hear muted sounds, barely comprehensible; it sounds like you but I can't make out what you are saying and I approach the door with a quizzical look on my face.

Twenty-five years of marriage and three kids have barely touched you except to make you look even more radiant than ever. You've put on a little weight, but then so have I, and unlike me you've put it on in all the right places. Motherhood and a healthy life have left your breasts slightly bigger than what they were; still firm and delicious and sagging only slightly more than what they did in your twenties. The weight you've gained around your ass and thighs has just made you seem riper, thicker in an erotic way. A few crows' feet at the corner of your eyes and mouth and one or two lines on your forehead give away your age; that and the single streak of gray in your hair that you refuse to dye, and which in truth I'd hate if you did. All in all you look like what some people would call motherly; at least you would if you didn't currently have your legs wrapped around some guys waist as he fucked you on our kitchen table.

He's just over six foot tall, with broad-ish shoulders and a shock of thick dark hair. He's muscled, but not unduly so, more thickset with muscles rippling beneath the skin rather than somebody who goes to the gym regularly. A pair of boxers lie in a heap around his ankles, and his arms are wrapped around you, his hands undoubtedly grabbing handfuls of your delicious ass for stability. Your arms are wrapped around him tightly, fingernails raking across his back to leave deep red welts or digging into his soft, tender flesh. Your legs are locked together around his waist, crossed at the ankles, as his hips slam in and out of you wetly. Your dark cocoa coloured skin a delicious foil to his pale white one. You have your mouth at his ear, moaning and gasping into it, muttering to him breathlessly in between kissing and biting at his neck. You seem to know when I reach the door because you look up at me, directly into my eyes and smile as you gasp and moan lustily in his ear.

A small smile comes to my lips. We'd tried so hard to go on the straight and narrow when we'd got married. To give up the swinging life we'd enjoyed before. We'd even managed for a couple of years before we had given in and gone back to it with a vengeance. The years away had done nothing but dam our desires and when we finally succumbed that dam burst with the fury of the mightiest rivers.

The debauchery that had followed the birth of our first child would have made even a sailor blush. The partner swapping where we'd stayed out for days at a time, having to lie to friends and family for one another, telling them that we were away on business. Or the threesomes or foursomes we'd had; the orgies and gangbangs we had attended and hosted. The sex in public places; offices, cars, weddings and boats. Hell, we'd even had a gangbang at our house when you were four months pregnant with our second child and showing. You and five men, a weekend of animal-like rutting, nobody bothering with protection, just enjoying the sensation of cumming in a well-fucked, cum-filled cunt. We are many things but normal isn't one of them so I am sure it came as no surprise to you when you saw me slip my hand into my sleeping shorts to grab my rapidly hardening cock.

I seemed to have hit the right button because you smiled wickedly before letting out a bestial moan.

"Oh fuck yes! Fuck me good baby! You've got such a big cock! My pussy wants it so bad! Fuck, you're so much better than my husband! Oh fuck yes!" you cried out lustily in his ear, loud enough for it to echo through the kitchen. My cock jumped in my hand, completely hard and leaking messily. I wasn't the only one who seemed to like the commentary though.

"Shhh! He'll hear us!" he gasped out breathlessly; but his hips started pounding into you with greater speed and urgency...fuck you know how to play to the crowd.

Another wicked smile, over his shoulders, at me and you moan into his ear, "Oh baby, don't worry about him. He's old and deaf and blind. He's not half the man you are! He could be outside the door and still not know that I'm getting the fucking OF-MY-LIFE!".

The last three words are shrieked out, echoing through the kitchen and probably the whole house. Fuck! You really are good! You've played us both, on me with my cuckolding fetish and with him on his power trip because I've suddenly realized whom he is. It's Richard, our neighbour's eighteen-year-old son. The little kid who helps us in the garden for a couple of bucks every weekend.

"You dirty bitch!" I mouth over his shoulder and just get another loud moan from you in return. But your coaxing seems to have done the trick because he loses all sense of self-control.

"You want me to take you home! You want me to take you home, baby!" he cries out breathlessly, his hips picking up pace as he pushes you down onto the table. As your head follows your body down, to be hidden by his torso, I see a huge grin spread across your face before you bite your bottom lip to stifle a groan of ecstasy. All I can see now is his back, covered in welts and marks where your nails have gauged into his skin. His right arm obviously on your hip, his left stretching forward to somewhere else. Your legs are still wrapped around him as he thrusts into you powerfully, and your moans echo around the room.

"Yes baby! Take me home! Take me all the way home!" you cry loudly before succumbing to yet more moaning. Before I may not have been sure as to the legitimacy of your moans but now I am. The boy has no finesse, and he saws into you with the power and exuberance of youth but I know that that's enough to get you there. It may not make you orgasm the fastest but it would take you there hard, if he managed to hold his load long enough.

By now my cock is rock hard and the front of my pants are soaked through with pre-cum; and I want more. I can no longer be sure he wont look back and see me and I want to see your face when you cum. A quick scan around the kitchen shows me that the windows have been left open as they always are and I quietly withdraw from the door and run out into the garden through the open lounge doors.

The night air is cool against my skin, and my cock jumps in surprise and appreciation at the sensation. It seems as if this is to be my night because as I leave the house a large bank of clouds moves in front of the moon, blocking its light and turning the silver wonderland that is our garden into a dark and more menacing place.

With practiced ease I quickly walk around to the side of the house where the kitchen windows are. Either I underestimated the noise you two were making or you have drastically increased the volume because I can hear muted moans and cries from several meters away. I deftly make my way through the bushes that line the base of our walls and peer in through the corner window, completely cloaked in shadow.

Things seem much like I left them except that I now have a side view. You are still on your back on the table but you've spread your arms wide in an attempt to hold the ends for some traction. Richard is still between your legs, pounding away, his right hand clamped down on your hip keeping it stationary on the table. His left hand is on your shoulder; gripping it so tightly his knuckles have turned white his thumb at the base of your throat also holding you down.

Your hair has fanned out around your head, spilling off the edge of the table, some strands plastered to your head, the rest bouncing with every thrust. You seem to have given up tying to hook your legs around his waist, he's obviously to rough for that, and instead they're just hanging off the table limply on either side of him. And your tits?

Well that's my favorite part of watching you get fucked hard. They're bouncing up and down with every thrust, his sweat and yours running down them erotically. Your nipples are rock hard and he takes the time to twist and pinch them occasionally, sometimes even slowing his thrusting down enough to suck or bite one in between kissing you. They bounce so hard that they hit you underneath the chin and he seems to take great delight in slowing down to get a big thrust to do just that. And you're encouraging him as much as you can in between gasping for air. Moaning and groaning, talking dirty or telling him to "Fuck me hard!" Which he seems more than happy to do.

I spot the telltale sign of your impending orgasm as it starts. Your chest heaving with exertion, your breath coming in gasps that render you silent. The fluttering of your eyelids before they close as your back arches in a giant spasm of lust. The orgasm must be hard because while your mouth makes an 'O' shape not a sound escapes. I watch as your legs hook around his hips pulling him deeper into you, tensing as you try hold him there, him still thrusting ineffectively; a look of shock comes across his face as your pussy clenches tightly around his cock as your body gives off little involuntary spasms. You must hold that position for at least thirty seconds, little jolts of pleasure traveling through you as the waves of the orgasm wash over you. You give off a deep sigh mixed with a little yelp of pleasure as your back sinks back towards the table, your legs relaxing; allowing him to resume his pace.

It's less than a minute later when he cries out in a voice that cracks with exertion, "I'm about to cum! Oh fuck!"

Your legs tighten around his hips again, pulling him in towards you as you cry out in a loud voice, "Yes baby, cum for me! Cum all over my pussy! Cum all over it with your big load!"

It looks like you're going to hold him there, force him to cum in your cunt, as I watch him struggle to pull out of you in a panic. At the last moment you break your hold, allowing him to pull his cock out of you and grab it at the base just as it starts cumming.

The first shot hits you right between your wet, swollen cunt lips; it wouldn't surprise me if it had gone right up in you, such was the force of the spurt. The second shot over your cunt and landed on a big, juicy tit, a trail of cum running down towards your stomach. Another shot hits the bottom of your other breast, leaving a sticky white trail on your stomach.

By now he has managed to steady himself on the table with his left arm, his right hand gripping the base of his cock and stroking it firmly as he shoots the last of his load all over the bottom of your stomach and across your mound, dribbling the last of it all over your clit at your insistence.

It's as he slows that I really get to see his cock properly for the first time. It's average sized but nice and thick. The base of it covered in a thick white cream from your pussy, which has smeared all over his hand. The rest of it is slick and shiny with juices, the light reflecting off it obscenely as he gives it the last few strokes.

You've been moaning and groaning at him through out this whole process, cooing at the amount of cum in between heavy, satisfied breathing. At this point his arm gives way and he collapses on top of you, head leaning against your chest, you stroking his hair and kissing his forehead; speaking to him in soft encouraging tones. The two of you lying on our kitchen table in a post sex lethargy.

It's at this time that I decide to leave. Sneaking back into the house and up to my room. I crawl into bed and lie waiting for you. I'm already half asleep when you walk in fifteen minutes later, wearing the same nightdress I saw pooled at the base of the kitchen table. When you crawl into bed I can still smell the sweat and sex and cum and my cock gives an approving jump.

"Where were you darling?" I ask sleepily looking at you, noting the same beautiful face I have woken up next to for twenty-five years.

"Oh, you know, just up and about. Wandering about the state of my garden." you reply with a smile.

"Oh yeah? How is it?" I ask innocently as I look into your eyes.

"It's fine for the moment; though I think I'll have to call Richard around tomorrow to see if he can take care of it..." you say as you snuggle up to me, both of us closing our eyes as we drift off to sleep; content and happy.