Gardening at Mrs Chesters
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Gardening At Mrs Chesters Ch 2 free porn video
He wasn’t sure how she had convinced him to do it, but now he was collecting his own pee in an old milk carton with a green screw-on lid. The smell was terrible, but over a couple of days he had not far off three pints of it. Trouble was that during the same period he had played with himself a lot. He had so much stuff in his head, he had to get it out one way or another, but he was also careful to make his mess in kitchen roll not the container; he didn’t want it floating around in his delivery to Mrs. Chester.
By 9.30am, two days later, he was nearing her house, and it was then that he remembered he had forgotten to bring her watch with him. He had found it helped each time he needed some 'relief' from the tension inside him, to take it and fix it tightly around himself at the last notch. He found that the thin leather bit in quite hard, and somehow that helped. As he thought about it, he realized her watch was probably hidden in his sock draw.
“Hello, Jonathan, how was your ride today?” Dorothy smiled cheerfully. “I have a drink for you here if you want to go up and change? Did you bring your bottle?”
She half expected him to have forgotten like most boys his age. They only seemed to be able to remember one thing at a time, so she was surprised and delighted when he produced it from a carrier bag in his rucksack.
“Oh good. Leave it with me, run upstairs and change and you can use the bathroom or our bedroom again.”
Not even considering the bathroom, Jon went directly to the bedroom, and as soon as he entered the room, his blue eyes went straight to her on the wall. He studied her face, her bobbed hair and then her neck, and slowly dropped down the pear drop gap of her cleavage and all the time her eyes were staring back at him.
Anyway, he was supposed to be changing, but as he pulled off his cycle shorts he found them resistant to removal. The waistband had snagged on a quickly stiffening penis. They did come off, but he then had to face pulling on the shorts she had supplied from the first day. Once again their size meant he had difficulty getting into them, and by the time he did, he found -- under the watchful and unsmiling gaze of Dorothy on the wall -- he was quite a handful.
Dot unscrewed the cap to the bottle of pee and carefully poured the contents into a small steel bucket in the outhouse. A strong smell of euric acid filled the air. She sighed and wrinkled her nose. She looked at the clear yellow liquid in the bucket. It smelt and looked fine for the job in hand. Then she noticed what looked like gobs of saliva or mucous suspended in it. On closer inspection however she realized what they were. She wondered if this were the remains of a session he had indulged in and that his pee had cleared out, but what must the main load have been like? She pulled a face at the thought. “Disgusting boy!” And what could have prompted such an outburst in any case?
Dot returned to the hallway and shouted up the stairs to Jonathan, “If you were going to use the toilet, please don’t, but instead come out here and I will explain what I would like you to do, Jonathan.” She went outside.
Jonathan emerged from the house in the same long sleeved shirt and shorts.
“I will show you where I would like you to pee whilst you are working here, if you don’t mind, now I know the secret to good composting from my friend and it seems you can supply an essential ingredient,” she added, smiling. “I don’t want a drop of your wonderful mixture wasted by flushing it down the toilet, I want it on here instead.”
And with that she led him to the bottom of the garden and to a large un-rotted pile of leaves and grass cuttings.
“I would direct you personally but hardly think that’s appropriate,” she said, smiling broadly. But then, having just said those words, she was already having difficulty not imagining her hand reaching inside and down the front of those shorts he was wearing. In her minds eye it was then with some difficulty, because she could see the shorts were a snug fit on him. Easing out a modest sized penis so that his urine could be most effectively directed in the garden would not be easy, but someone would have to do it.
In his head he had similar thoughts, except that the penis was larger. He also imagined that whilst handling him, she was gently easing the skin back from his head as he hardened.
Neither of their thoughts was spoken of course. Instead, Jonathan merely nodded and grunted, seemingly reluctantly in reply to Dorothy, in his teenage way.
“Okay,” he added.
“Now I need you to tackle these small trees today they need a prune. They are Betula pubscens or downy birch,” she explained to Jonathan turning to one side of the heap. “And how fitting for this recently post pubescent lad to be dealing with,” she thought to herself. She already had an idea for re-use of the cuttings.
“The little whips would be most handy,” she thought, but said, “Anyway I will leave you to it.”
Jonathan picked up the cutters and set to.
Sarah, Dorothy’s neighbour called around. “I see you have a new helper in he garden, whereever did you find him?”
“Oh, he's from my golf club.”
They were both in the kitchen now, gazing out at the toiling boy as he bent to his task. Dorothy was again thinking of the birch whips he was pruning out, each around four to five feet long. She could hear the gentle slow swish of the tree cutting through the air and the resounding and satisfying smack as it contacted the thighs and perhaps the shorts around his bottom.
“Well when you’ve finished with him, perhaps you can pass him on? I could do with some work on my front garden...”
Dorothy sniggered at the double meaning.
“So could she,” she thought, a tangled mass of dark bristly hairs between her thighs. She wondered how she could enlist Jonathans help in such a task, and in so doing, also wondered at what really lay between his firm thighs.
She glanced out again, and almost by way of answer, she caught sight of the front of his borrowed shorts and the bulge that lay within them. She could hardly believe that she was having such impure thoughts about this boy, the son of one of her friends at the club. So, to try and distract herself, she immediately set out about some tasks in the kitchen.
For his part, Jonathan felt the need to relieve himself and was about to start up the garden and inside to the cloakroom when he recalled the request he had received about peeing on the compost heap. He went behind the short fence, pulled down the front of the elasticated waistband and eased his now softened member out of confinement. He began to pee.
Dorothy waved goodbye to Sarah and went quickly back inside and upstairs. In the bathroom she was about to use the WC at the back of the house when, glancing out of the clear glass pane, noticed Jonathan standing still, his head visible but his remainder hidden from view by the five foot fence at the bottom of her garden. He appeared to be concentrating. She remained watching, intrigued. She saw him glance down and could see his body shaking slightly as presumably he finished his peeing. He remained standing, however, and leaned slowly back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t moved, stood stock still and appeared to be concentrating.
“Oh my god,” she thought. “Is he playing with himself?”
She went quickly downstairs through the hall and in to the kitchen. She eased the kitchen door open, as quietly as she could, and padded into the garden. She could still see the top of his head in the same place. She was going to creep up on him from the other side of the fence. Behind it on her side was the garden shed. She had to be quick and she had to be quiet. There was a slight wind which helped to cover the sound of her shoes on the stone flags.
She slipped the shed door open and almost tripped over the garden fork propped up in there, cursing under her breath. Taking a moment to compose herself, she took few breaths and considered what she was about to do. Should she, shouldn’t she. It seemed inappropriate, underhand, and a little devious. She paused, took another breath and then moved steadily to the back of the shed where she happened to know there was a small knot hole. From it she guessed she could the whole of the vegetable patch, including the compost stack which was right by it and most importantly she simply had to see exactly what Jon was up to.
Before his last visit, his only ‘inspirational’ thoughts about Dorothy had been her neck, her underarm tangle of hair, her imperious air and her bared, haired arms, all of which apparently ‘did it’ for him. Then he had spotted her dirty wall picture a couple of days back and, more recently, the fluffed nipples from her top when she was working in the garden. It wasn’t much, but coupled with his raging coltish hormones, it was enough. He was easily roused and not easily deflated. The shorts she had mistakenly supplied him with had left him with little room for expansion but he hadn’t made the connection yet.
With these demands on his attention, it was out of desperation then that he had grabbed the opportunity of being alone in the garden with both hands, to pee and then to relieve the pressure in his already full balls. The dirty thoughts buzzing around his head and his hand motion meant he was nearing a point of release, but he still had to keep watch in case Dorothy came out of the house suddenly and caught him at play. He had to avoid that at all costs. It would have been beyond embarrassing.
It was not to be. Collett was stood outside the front door and was ringing the bell. Once, twice three times. Dorothy from her place in the shed couldn’t hear. Jonathan from being in the garden could just about, but assumed that Dorothy would be down to answer it from inside. Collett could see Dot’s car was in the drive and rang again.
"She must be around," thought Collett.
After a sixth ring she thought she would take a stroll down the footpath that ran alongside the rear garden and see if through gaps in the hedge if she could spot Dorothy or perhaps that nice young man she had seen the day before working outside.
Dorothy was still in the shed and was now sat down on a metal bucket. She was leaning forward so that her fine cheek bone rested on the rough wood of the shed wall. She had been expecting a sight of delightful surprise but just seconds before, she heard a loud call over the side fence to the road from her friend Collett.
“Damn it!” she thought.
Jonathan had been similarly alerted and in seconds his stiff penis had been forced back inside his straining shorts.
“So close yet so far,” he regretted.
It throbbed and his balls hurt, but he couldn’t risk cumming in such circumstances. He had done very well to even stop himself exploding, let alone getting it back inside under such pressure.
Before she quite reached her view hole, Dot had to retreat from her vantage point and quickly and quietly crept back into the house. It was one thing for her friends son to be working for her, it was quite another for him to drop his shorts at a moments notice. It was of course completely unacceptable to her and her friends for her to watch him while he played, or even worse to be found out watching.
Later when he had gone home, just about the only thing she could think about was the two round orbs of his bottom. Firm, small, pert and captured in his shorts. That was apart of course from the lump in the front of the same shorts and the smaller pair of sub-divided orbs. She would have to work harder at getting them off him so she could see, let alone getting her hand inside them… but even before she completed the idea in her head, guilt got the better of her and she banished the thoughts.
End of part 2
By 9.30am, two days later, he was nearing her house, and it was then that he remembered he had forgotten to bring her watch with him. He had found it helped each time he needed some 'relief' from the tension inside him, to take it and fix it tightly around himself at the last notch. He found that the thin leather bit in quite hard, and somehow that helped. As he thought about it, he realized her watch was probably hidden in his sock draw.
“Hello, Jonathan, how was your ride today?” Dorothy smiled cheerfully. “I have a drink for you here if you want to go up and change? Did you bring your bottle?”
She half expected him to have forgotten like most boys his age. They only seemed to be able to remember one thing at a time, so she was surprised and delighted when he produced it from a carrier bag in his rucksack.
“Oh good. Leave it with me, run upstairs and change and you can use the bathroom or our bedroom again.”
Not even considering the bathroom, Jon went directly to the bedroom, and as soon as he entered the room, his blue eyes went straight to her on the wall. He studied her face, her bobbed hair and then her neck, and slowly dropped down the pear drop gap of her cleavage and all the time her eyes were staring back at him.
Anyway, he was supposed to be changing, but as he pulled off his cycle shorts he found them resistant to removal. The waistband had snagged on a quickly stiffening penis. They did come off, but he then had to face pulling on the shorts she had supplied from the first day. Once again their size meant he had difficulty getting into them, and by the time he did, he found -- under the watchful and unsmiling gaze of Dorothy on the wall -- he was quite a handful.
Dot unscrewed the cap to the bottle of pee and carefully poured the contents into a small steel bucket in the outhouse. A strong smell of euric acid filled the air. She sighed and wrinkled her nose. She looked at the clear yellow liquid in the bucket. It smelt and looked fine for the job in hand. Then she noticed what looked like gobs of saliva or mucous suspended in it. On closer inspection however she realized what they were. She wondered if this were the remains of a session he had indulged in and that his pee had cleared out, but what must the main load have been like? She pulled a face at the thought. “Disgusting boy!” And what could have prompted such an outburst in any case?
Dot returned to the hallway and shouted up the stairs to Jonathan, “If you were going to use the toilet, please don’t, but instead come out here and I will explain what I would like you to do, Jonathan.” She went outside.
Jonathan emerged from the house in the same long sleeved shirt and shorts.
“I will show you where I would like you to pee whilst you are working here, if you don’t mind, now I know the secret to good composting from my friend and it seems you can supply an essential ingredient,” she added, smiling. “I don’t want a drop of your wonderful mixture wasted by flushing it down the toilet, I want it on here instead.”
And with that she led him to the bottom of the garden and to a large un-rotted pile of leaves and grass cuttings.
“I would direct you personally but hardly think that’s appropriate,” she said, smiling broadly. But then, having just said those words, she was already having difficulty not imagining her hand reaching inside and down the front of those shorts he was wearing. In her minds eye it was then with some difficulty, because she could see the shorts were a snug fit on him. Easing out a modest sized penis so that his urine could be most effectively directed in the garden would not be easy, but someone would have to do it.
In his head he had similar thoughts, except that the penis was larger. He also imagined that whilst handling him, she was gently easing the skin back from his head as he hardened.
Neither of their thoughts was spoken of course. Instead, Jonathan merely nodded and grunted, seemingly reluctantly in reply to Dorothy, in his teenage way.
“Okay,” he added.
“Now I need you to tackle these small trees today they need a prune. They are Betula pubscens or downy birch,” she explained to Jonathan turning to one side of the heap. “And how fitting for this recently post pubescent lad to be dealing with,” she thought to herself. She already had an idea for re-use of the cuttings.
“The little whips would be most handy,” she thought, but said, “Anyway I will leave you to it.”
Jonathan picked up the cutters and set to.
Sarah, Dorothy’s neighbour called around. “I see you have a new helper in he garden, whereever did you find him?”
“Oh, he's from my golf club.”
They were both in the kitchen now, gazing out at the toiling boy as he bent to his task. Dorothy was again thinking of the birch whips he was pruning out, each around four to five feet long. She could hear the gentle slow swish of the tree cutting through the air and the resounding and satisfying smack as it contacted the thighs and perhaps the shorts around his bottom.
“Well when you’ve finished with him, perhaps you can pass him on? I could do with some work on my front garden...”
Dorothy sniggered at the double meaning.
“So could she,” she thought, a tangled mass of dark bristly hairs between her thighs. She wondered how she could enlist Jonathans help in such a task, and in so doing, also wondered at what really lay between his firm thighs.
She glanced out again, and almost by way of answer, she caught sight of the front of his borrowed shorts and the bulge that lay within them. She could hardly believe that she was having such impure thoughts about this boy, the son of one of her friends at the club. So, to try and distract herself, she immediately set out about some tasks in the kitchen.
For his part, Jonathan felt the need to relieve himself and was about to start up the garden and inside to the cloakroom when he recalled the request he had received about peeing on the compost heap. He went behind the short fence, pulled down the front of the elasticated waistband and eased his now softened member out of confinement. He began to pee.
Dorothy waved goodbye to Sarah and went quickly back inside and upstairs. In the bathroom she was about to use the WC at the back of the house when, glancing out of the clear glass pane, noticed Jonathan standing still, his head visible but his remainder hidden from view by the five foot fence at the bottom of her garden. He appeared to be concentrating. She remained watching, intrigued. She saw him glance down and could see his body shaking slightly as presumably he finished his peeing. He remained standing, however, and leaned slowly back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t moved, stood stock still and appeared to be concentrating.
“Oh my god,” she thought. “Is he playing with himself?”
She went quickly downstairs through the hall and in to the kitchen. She eased the kitchen door open, as quietly as she could, and padded into the garden. She could still see the top of his head in the same place. She was going to creep up on him from the other side of the fence. Behind it on her side was the garden shed. She had to be quick and she had to be quiet. There was a slight wind which helped to cover the sound of her shoes on the stone flags.
She slipped the shed door open and almost tripped over the garden fork propped up in there, cursing under her breath. Taking a moment to compose herself, she took few breaths and considered what she was about to do. Should she, shouldn’t she. It seemed inappropriate, underhand, and a little devious. She paused, took another breath and then moved steadily to the back of the shed where she happened to know there was a small knot hole. From it she guessed she could the whole of the vegetable patch, including the compost stack which was right by it and most importantly she simply had to see exactly what Jon was up to.
Before his last visit, his only ‘inspirational’ thoughts about Dorothy had been her neck, her underarm tangle of hair, her imperious air and her bared, haired arms, all of which apparently ‘did it’ for him. Then he had spotted her dirty wall picture a couple of days back and, more recently, the fluffed nipples from her top when she was working in the garden. It wasn’t much, but coupled with his raging coltish hormones, it was enough. He was easily roused and not easily deflated. The shorts she had mistakenly supplied him with had left him with little room for expansion but he hadn’t made the connection yet.
With these demands on his attention, it was out of desperation then that he had grabbed the opportunity of being alone in the garden with both hands, to pee and then to relieve the pressure in his already full balls. The dirty thoughts buzzing around his head and his hand motion meant he was nearing a point of release, but he still had to keep watch in case Dorothy came out of the house suddenly and caught him at play. He had to avoid that at all costs. It would have been beyond embarrassing.
It was not to be. Collett was stood outside the front door and was ringing the bell. Once, twice three times. Dorothy from her place in the shed couldn’t hear. Jonathan from being in the garden could just about, but assumed that Dorothy would be down to answer it from inside. Collett could see Dot’s car was in the drive and rang again.
"She must be around," thought Collett.
After a sixth ring she thought she would take a stroll down the footpath that ran alongside the rear garden and see if through gaps in the hedge if she could spot Dorothy or perhaps that nice young man she had seen the day before working outside.
Dorothy was still in the shed and was now sat down on a metal bucket. She was leaning forward so that her fine cheek bone rested on the rough wood of the shed wall. She had been expecting a sight of delightful surprise but just seconds before, she heard a loud call over the side fence to the road from her friend Collett.
“Damn it!” she thought.
Jonathan had been similarly alerted and in seconds his stiff penis had been forced back inside his straining shorts.
“So close yet so far,” he regretted.
It throbbed and his balls hurt, but he couldn’t risk cumming in such circumstances. He had done very well to even stop himself exploding, let alone getting it back inside under such pressure.
Before she quite reached her view hole, Dot had to retreat from her vantage point and quickly and quietly crept back into the house. It was one thing for her friends son to be working for her, it was quite another for him to drop his shorts at a moments notice. It was of course completely unacceptable to her and her friends for her to watch him while he played, or even worse to be found out watching.
Later when he had gone home, just about the only thing she could think about was the two round orbs of his bottom. Firm, small, pert and captured in his shorts. That was apart of course from the lump in the front of the same shorts and the smaller pair of sub-divided orbs. She would have to work harder at getting them off him so she could see, let alone getting her hand inside them… but even before she completed the idea in her head, guilt got the better of her and she banished the thoughts.
End of part 2
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- Category:
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