From the kitchen window in my little white house on the hill, as I fondly refer to it, I could see the bounty from my handiwork spanning across my isolated backyard.  On one side, my flower garden stretched like a colorful patchwork quilt along the six-foot-tall white picket fence all the way back to the towering oak tree in the far corner.  There, a new wooden swing hung from one of the thick branches above a large patch of soft green grass that I even managed to get to grow close to the tree’s big roots that stretch like a spider’s legs from its massive trunk. This is my new spot to spend time admiring my flowers in the shade after several hours of work clearing weeds and giving loving touches and words of encouragement to my flower friends. 

Across the back of the property line and up the other side is my vegetable garden full of different lettuces including romaine, red leaf, iceberg, manoa and butter flowing into my large spinach section; next is my underground garden of carrots, radishes, beets, parsnips and rutabagas; followed by my varieties of heirloom tomatoes and eggplant that add a splash of color to the sea of mostly green. 

The vegetable garden is sectioned off with mobile barricades of chicken wire fencing to protect it from animal invaders.  Tucked into the woods with no border fence along the rear and west side of the property, my home has one neighbor on the east side of the tall white picket fence while the rest of the yard lies unprotected offering a garden buffet for wildlife visitors.  The chicken wire, although not pleasing to look at, helps protect what I need while allowing me to sometimes open sections to share with my furry and feathery neighbors.

As I scooped up the last of the pile of food waste for the compost pile from the sink, the thought crossed my mind to paint the chicken wire different colors so beautiful hues stretch all the way across my yard from the already vibrant flower garden to the mostly green vegetable garden for a balanced aesthetic view.  I laughed out loud as I realize the impact my recent obsession of looking at books of eighteenth-century paintings is having on my thoughts.  Also, it seemed silly to fix this view just for me.  I am the only one who sees it. My one lone neighbor up on this hill has vacated her house for a nine-month sabbatical to work on her research project in Canada.  I have not invited any of my old crew of friends or family to my new house yet, and I do not get out enough to make new friends. Even considering either of these has only recently crossed my mind. 

When I somewhat “ran away,” as some people have decided to call it, a little over two years ago, it was isolation that I desperately craved.  I abandoned city life, walking away from a well-paid corporate climbing job, a long stressful daily commute and a busy life full of countless social engagements including an actual real engagement to what felt like the wrong person and the wrong life.  Everyone thought I was crazy, so it seemed fitting to just cut them off as to not give them fuel for their gossip fire. In the end, I felt peace, and when I googled “how do you lower your stress,” it said gardening promotes recovery from mental fatigue, and I definitely had a severe case of mental fatigue.

With my compost bucket remnants from dinner in hand, I headed outside to enjoy the garden.  When I passed through the mudroom, I saw my work clothes from earlier hanging with the afternoon’s sweat still drying.  “Yuck,” I muttered out loud to myself. Well, no reason to get another pair of clothes dirty. If I live alone on this hill, I might as well enjoy the full benefits of it, I thought to myself and surprised myself with such a daring thought.  

I plopped down the compost bucket, slipped off my sweatshirt and unzipped and let my shorts drop to the floor, stepping carefully out of them. Now, standing in a bra and panties, I remembered the eighteenth-century paintings from my art book of beautiful women lounging peacefully and gracefully in their lovely gardens.  Not sure if it was artists’ vision, the fact they were often nymphs and goddesses or that, in that time and place, the curves and rolls of a woman’s body were celebrated, but I admired how those women looked so confident, royale and comfortable in their own skin. I wanted to feel that way! Why shouldn’t I! I reached around and undid my bra, slid down my panties, tossed them to the side, held my chin up with confidence, bent down to grab the compost bucket and marched bravely out the back door.  The cat didn’t seem amused.

The cool evening air enveloped my naked body as I walked into my backyard clandestine paradise.  It felt good to know I created this space— my very own painting come to life. I emptied my bucket into the compost pile and reached for a hose to wash it out.  Why I hadn’t walked out here naked before? Nobody was around to be bothered by it, and I felt beautiful like the pale, curvy goddesses, nymphs, and cherubs that filled the pages of my art books.  With nothing but my long tresses of hair flowing down my back and over the top of my breasts, I walked barefoot and carefully over to my flower garden spanning the beauty of the rose-mallow hibiscus in red, pink and white; the purple wave petunias in pinks and lilac; the profusion zinnia varieties in cherry, gold, white and orangish red; the day-lilies with golden-yellow blossoms; and the lacy delicate white petals of the evergreen candytuft. 

As I wandered toward my oak tree, I ran my hand along the white picket fence, which as my imagination wandered became a limestone moss-covered wall like in the Victorian gardens in my art book.  I perched briefly on my new swing, pushing off and arching my back to dip my head back and let my long auburn hair drag across the soft grass. I felt so vulnerable and free-swinging naked in my garden.  My mind wandered to one of my favorite paintings in my book that graced some castle in Germany. It was of Antheia the flower goddess seducing Ares the god of war in her garden while cupid drug off and hid Ares’s weapons in hopes of bringing peace and stopping all future wars.  I desperately wanted Ares to wander into my garden. I felt a tingle run through my body, and a moistness begin to form between my legs. I pushed off to swing again, spreading my legs open and letting my vagina open like a blooming flower, and I felt the cool air soothe the ache between my thighs.  

Overwhelmed with pleasurable feelings, I vacated the swing to lie in the soft grass and lean against the big oak tree pretending my body was pressed back against Ares smooth, strong body.  “Ahhhoooooooooo,” I moaned out loud as I took my hands and began to touch my breasts pretending he was wrapping his strong arms around me and cupping my breasts in his large hands rubbing them in circles over and over, kissing my neck softly in my mind and rolling my hard nipples between his fingers.  I reached up with one arm and wrapped it around the tree trunk which felt like Ares strong body while taking my other hand and slowly moving down the contours of my body to the warm, moist area between my shaking legs.

As my fingers began to stroke my soft, wet vagina, I pulled my knees up and arched my back.  Ares was now in front of me and bent down to kiss me passionately on my thigh, slowly moving up to my eager pussy.  His strong tongue was stroking me, circling around and around, then pushing deeper and deeper. All of a sudden, I realized that I was touching myself, and I felt Ares was watching me.  He was standing in my garden, giving me a lustful gaze as my legs were spread open, and my fingers moved in a circular motion over and over. My mind wandered from the blooming life of the garden to Ares strong, vigorous manhood to my body stretched out, open, bold, and beautiful on the soft, green grass.  I felt myself reach orgasm and I relentlessly kept rhythmically stroking until I was sure it was finished, released a deep moan and sigh of pure relief and rolled over onto my side, curling up like a sleeping cat.

Was I dreaming? Within the usual array of sounds from wind, bugs, and birds, I thought I heard a door slam.  I sat up quickly and looked around. I saw movement to the right like a shadow moving on the other side of the white picket fence.  Impossible! My one and only neighbor had closed up her property while on sabbatical, and it wasn’t the second Tuesday of the month when a company came to clean and service her pool.  I know the one day a month that someone invades my hilltop retreat other than bi-monthly garbage and recycling pick-up. I certainly wouldn’t be turning my backyard into a nudist camp if it was the second Tuesday of the month.  It was the third Sunday and dusk.

I tiptoed over to the fence, and there he was.  That definitely was not Alice, my neighbor. He was a large man, not slender and not fat.  He was defined but did not have muscles manufactured in a gym. It was all natural. He was dressed in jeans and t-shirt and had shoulder-length, thick sandy blonde hair.  Like on cue, he reached down and pulled off his t-shirt, and my eyes widened. His chest was just slightly hairy with same sandy blonde hair that covered his head, and I wished I was close enough to touch it and run my hand down his stomach to investigate where it went.  

I licked my dry lips as he leaned back getting comfortable on the light blue chaise lounge lawn chair.  Who is this? I wonder if he broke in to use her beautiful pool. I had certainly thought many times about doing that very thing myself— climbing the fence to jump in that sparkling cool pool on many a hot summer day after my exhausting garden work.  He could be a gorgeous pool thief or simply another figment of my imagination. I was just masturbating and imagining the tree was a tall, dark man. If he was a criminal, he certainly was a cautious one. He was carefully applying generous amounts of suntan lotion on his chest and neck and then leaned forward to try and apply it to his back.  Ohhhh. I could help with that. I then realized that I was standing in my own yard naked spying on this possibly innocent man.

Suddenly, I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He seemed to have lost something and kept reaching and feeling around in his pocket. Then, I figured it out, and it certainly wasn't lost. In fact, it was becoming more visible through his pants even from this distance. I wanted to yell, “yes, pull it out” but didn’t want to startle him— he might not have appreciated being watched. He closed his eyes, laid his head back, and looked as though he might fall asleep.  I was disappointed when he slipped his hand out of his pocket. 

Then, his eyes opened, and he popped the button of his jeans between his thumb and index finger and eagerly slipped the zipper open. His hands spread the flaps of his pants like a blooming flower, and something lovely began to grow. He hooked his thumbs between the waistband of his underwear and, lifting his body slightly off the lawn chair, shoved them along with his pants down to his knees. I gasped with excitement and smashed my hand over my mouth quickly hoping he didn’t hear.

Without hesitation, he placed his hand around his long shaft and gave it a few strokes, grimaced and reached for the bottle of suntan lotion with his left hand. He held the bottle upside down and shook, gave it a liberal squirt into his right hand and rubbed the lotion around in his palm with the tips of his fingers. Careful not to lose any of the precious liquid, he held his hand upward and steady as he placed the bottle on the ground beside him. After a few twisting glides with his right hand, his face lit up as his cock glistened with lubrication. He was well prepared for the task and leaning against the fence I had to cross my legs to contain the excitement of anticipation that was penetrating my entire body and forming a steady throb between my legs.

He grabbed his rather large cock and began with a few brush-stroke style wrist maneuvers, careful to cover the entire surface with an even layer of lubrication. This preliminary step must have deserved a great deal of concentration as the tip of his tongue pushed slightly through his puckered lips. I suppose since I shouldn’t have been watching there was no reason for him to be classy.  With his thumb behind the top side of his cock, he slipped his first and middle finger together beneath the head and began to move them slowly in a circular upward motion. The loose skin rolled up and down as the pace increased. He grasped the firm muscle of his thigh with his left hand and began to breathe more deeply.

My mouth hung open.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  I had never watched a man, or anyone for that matter, masturbate before, and I certainly didn't realize it would be this enthralling and beautiful.  His strong arms moved forcefully, but with innocence and gentleness and with his large hard penis in his hand, he looked like a Greek God ready to conquer the world.  With each stroke, he seemed to relax yet become more anxious like a soldier charging confidently into battle.  He looked like a beautiful sculpture. He looked like, like, like the one in my art book...what was it called?  Sleeping man, sleeping God… no sleeping satyr… a male nature spirit and as I recall they have permanent, exaggerated erections.  This was fitting. He was the sleeping satyr statue with his head leaning back, eyes tightly closed, face relaxed, and legs spread open.  As his leg muscles tightened, his beautiful penis rose up in the twilight. I was in awe.

With his cock angled toward his upper body and his fingers rolling at the tip of his cock, he pressed hard and made one final downward stroke. His skin pulled tight, and a stream of cum shot upward and arched onto his stomach, followed by another and yet another.  I nearly fainted with excitement for him. His left hand loosened its grip on his thigh, his eyes closed and his head settled back onto the chair. He pressed his palm against his cock and rubbed it onto his stomach as more cum pooled and ran along the head. I felt a tingle in my abdomen imagining that warm feeling of cum settling on my stomach with his arms wrapped beneath my shoulders, my comforting fingers running through his soft hair and his hot unsteady breath on my neck.

Looking around, slightly stunned like he forgot where he was, he finally relaxed, reached back over his head and felt along the top of the chair with his fingers. When they finally settled on the bottom of the shirt he had hung there earlier, he yanked it down and flung it onto his stomach. Wading it in his palm, he used the shirt to wipe up the puddle of cum left by his glorious erection. I would love to have climbed up his strong legs and used my tongue to help him clean that up, but the task was quickly and efficiently completed. He raised his round, muscular butt from the chair, tugged his pants back to their original position, zipped them up and refastened the button. 

He stood and stretched his arms upward with his stomach curved and firm and let out a satisfied yawn.  Looking like that famous statue I stared at with reverie from the pages of my book; I was now staring at this man, this fascinating stranger, this male spirit, sleeping satyr.  Just as I recalled historians had described that statue being hurled down from the Mausoleum upon the Goths during the siege of Rome in 530 something or other, this man had now been hurled upon me and my peaceful little life and garden.  I couldn’t believe what I had just watched. I really shouldn’t have. This has to be wrong, I thought, as I ran naked toward the house before the mosquitoes lay siege on me. This had been an unusual and eventful day in the garden.

*****

Rubbing my eyes half-awake in bed, I spent some time daydreaming and convincing myself the day before was reality and not just a realistic dream.  I still didn’t know who the beautiful nature man, the satyr, next door was and I felt terribly guilty for invading his privacy. Well, not as guilty as I should, because that was a sight to behold and remember for a lifetime.  It was not my business what was going on over there and until I see an actual crime occur, then I need to focus on my own life and responsibilities. It was time to get up, grab a protein bar and a bottle of water and head out to pick some fresh vegetables and pull some weeds before the afternoon sun made it too uncomfortable. Coffee could wait. 

After splashing some water on my face, brushing my teeth and pulling on a new yellow and black sundress, I grabbed my picking basket and headed out the backdoor barefooted to see what I could harvest.  It was nearly ten a.m. as I had obviously had a very good night’s sleep and I didn’t feel bad at all making myself wait on a fresh cup of java. Work before pleasure. Sigh. Pleasure. Now he was back in my mind, I thought, as I pulled up my dress which hit just below my knees and bent down onto the hard earth to pull some carrots that were ready. Once I finished the row of carrots, I moved to select the cucumbers that were ready while also discarding a few random weeds by tossing them to the side. 

With a particular cucumber of substantial girth in my hand, I wrapped my fingers around it, remembering fondly the image I saw the day before.  Moving my hand slowly up and down, I could almost hear a soft moan. It was getting louder.

“Hello?” 

I could almost hear his voice.

“Hello? Can I bring over something cold to drink?”

I was hearing his voice!

“Sure,” I said out loud, hoping again this all wasn’t my crazy imagination.

It was confirmed it wasn’t when he came through the gate I opened fifteen minutes later with two glasses of lemonade and a sweet grin on his face.

“I’m Luke, Sylvia’s brother,” he said with his hand extended.  “I’m going to move in and keep an eye on the house while she’s in Canada and give this town a trial run.”

“Hi. My name is Elizabeth, but they call me Beth for short.  Trial run, huh? This town will grow on you?”

“It is a bit isolated for me, but I’m beginning to see the benefits,” he said with a sly grin as his eyes fixated on the cucumber clutched in my hand.

I looked down at the cucumber and mumbled… “Oh, this reminded me of someone... I mean something.  Something I saw... recently” I awkwardly dropped the cucumber into the basket and reached for the glass of lemonade, hoping he wouldn’t notice my flushed cheeks.

“Your garden is inspiring,” he said. “I would love to lend a helping hand if you need one.”

“Thank you. It has been a labor of love.  I spend a lot of time out here working.”

“I hope it’s not all work and you find some time to enjoy yourself.” 

Luke flashed a sweet smile, took a big gulp of his lemonade, and licked his gorgeous lips.

“I am sorry.  This is awkward,” I said. “I’m not used to company up here, and I am always alone.  Yesterday, I was out here... ummmm... working... and I didn’t expect to see anyone... and I... ummmm, so, I am very embarrassed to admit that I did see you in Sylvia’s backyard.  There. Conscience clear. I must be a new shade of red.”

“Well, if you call that working then I’m interested in helping you anytime you need it,” he said with that sly smile.  “I saw you first, so now we are even.”

“That was my first time naked in my own backyard,” I said in some sort of half attempt at a defense. “For the record, I didn’t expect anyone to see.  I am not an exhibitionist. And I didn’t expect the rest to happen, but I got caught up in some, well some feelings. Did I mention that I spend a lot of time alone?"

“Well, I am not a voyeur, but it was impossible to look away.”

“I can relate to that,” I said and quickly handed him a nearby hand hoe and some stretchy gardening gloves that barely fit over his large hands and bent down to start weeding, mostly to avoid eye contact which was getting intense.  “Well, you said you wanted to help.”

He grabbed the tool and bent down beside me to begin copying what I was doing and removing weeds from around the vegetables.  

“What if I pull up something you meant to keep,” he said.  “I have no idea really what I’m doing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

“You are doing fine,” I said with a nervous laugh as I stared at his beautiful arms working the tool in the soft soil as his fingers pushed deep into the earth to pull out the loosened weed by the roots.  He quickly caught on and threw them into the same pile I was creating. He looked handsome in a blue t-shirt and gray shorts that could pass for swim trunks. I wondered if he intended on working or if he wanted to just drop off the drink as a friendly gesture and go jump in that pool.

He moved his hand toward me, and I felt his fingers brush along my knuckles. He may have been reaching for a different tool or noticed a weed I hadn't seen, but I felt he was searching for something deeper. I flipped my hand over and let his fingers settle into my palm. Our gardening gloves prevented any skin from making contact, so I told him I had a cramp and needed to stretch my legs. I removed my leather gloves, dropped them into his lap, stood, bent over, and began to rub my calves. Of course, his curious eyes watched my hand as it ran up and down my tight muscle and smooth skin.

“You can be helpful in other ways,” I said. I took his gloved hand and placed it on my cramping calf.  His eyes widened, and he quickly took off his gloves and tossed them to the side using both hands to work my muscle, running them up and down my leg.  I began rubbing his shoulders, and he looked up at me with his lustful blue eyes briefly before letting out a long sigh and looking back at my leg. I couldn’t resist so I bent down and kissed him gently on the top of his head, letting my fingers move from his shoulders up into his locks of soft hair.  He let one hand move up my thigh and ran his finger along the edge of my panties.

I had my own Greek God in my garden and really wanted to get him over to my new tree swing to fulfill my latest fantasy.  I reached down and grabbed his hand from my calf and pulled him up and walked, pulling him toward the swing.

“Oh my God,” said Luke.  “Please tell me you are going to take off that beautiful dress and swing naked like you did yesterday.”

“Only if the self-proclaimed non-voyeur watches again,” I looked back giving him a flirty smile while still holding his hand and walking toward the swing.  “You should lean against that tree for the best view.” He quickly obeyed.

I pulled off my dress in one easy motion.  I was braless, so all I had to do was step out of my panties.  Luke watched as I began swinging and opening my legs to tease him.  Within minutes he was back on his feet and fully naked proudly displaying his fully erect penis.  He walked toward me, stopped the swing, and knelt down in front of me. I decided to lean back and open my legs to give him a closer look.

“I have a lot of fantasies about this swing,” I teased.

“I do now too,” he added.  I drug my feet to slow the swing, and he reached out to steady it as he approached me. Luke bent down on his knees and began kissing the soft flesh of my stomach, moving lower.  I held tight to the swing and moved my body forward, preparing myself for where he was headed. He ran his tongue down along my the crevice between my leg and my soft mound. Soon his tongue was inside of me, and he used one hand to open my vagina while he continued to steady the swing with his other hand. I moaned and dug my toes into the soft ground.

His tongue powerfully twisted between the folds of my wet pussy. It was amusing the way his hands crept— as though I wouldn't notice— up the inside of my thighs. Fortunately, I was too turned on to laugh; I sighed in anticipation. Each of his fingers had mischievous minds of their own, and his palms dragged behind, pressing and rolling the skin of my legs toward the intended treasure. As they reached their destination, his hands clasped into loose fists, and then his fingers extended to spread my pussy and allow his tongue to squirm deeper into my shaking body. 

"Oh, Beth," Luke moaned. He stood up and grabbed the ropes to pull me closer. His strong arms steadied the swing as he made his move. He placed his left foot forward and positioned his body for a better angle. As he made his first thrust, we were both reminded of Newton's third law of physics: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I reached out to grab his beautiful hard penis and lead it to the warmth of my wet, throbbing vagina. He leaned in further, and I could feel the rising anticipation as he almost entered my body.

Despite his full strength and best effort, the rope swing continued to flutter and twist and defiantly transfer my body out of the path of his intentions. Luke's beautifully sculpted penis slinging in the breeze might have been arousing if it hadn't been so utterly ineffective. The jabbing into every portion of space between my legs, except for the part that longed for it the most, forced me to bite my lip in a manner he might have interpreted as sexy in order to conceal my laughter. He stopped swaying his hips; his cock ceased its comical rotation, and he let out a disappointed sigh through an embarrassed smile. 

He proclaimed in a tone of deep despair, “This isn’t working at all, is it?” and just when I worried he was giving up entirely his strong arms hoisted me out of the swing and gracefully carried me and placed me on the soft ground beneath the majestic oak tree.

“I feel like a goddess,” I said, looking into his steel blue eyes.

“You are.  A garden goddess,” he said as he moved over me and began softly kissing my neck. “I am enchanted.  What do you desire?”

“All of you,” I said, lying back. “My garden fantasies are coming true.  Thanks to you.”

If I had known what he was about to do next, I might have warned him. It would have been really sexy if it hadn't been for the soil on my feet from the garden. Luke began to wiggle his tongue like a naughty little demon and moved slowly toward my feet with a wicked grin. As his tongue slipped between my toes, he felt the grittiness, and his head quickly shot back. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his tongue in and out of his pierced lips like a child sucking a lemon.  This time I couldn't even bite my lower lip to keep from laughing.

I almost felt sorry for him and decided we had had enough of all that fancy stuff. I wanted him to love me. I needed to feel his warm body pressed to mine and feel his love deep inside my trembling body. “You are too cute,” I said.  “Come here, now.” I reached down and pulled him on top of me, giving him a deep, long kiss to let him know that a little dirt and a few mishaps were not going to put a damper on this passionate encounter.

When we finished the kiss and stared at each other, his smile let me know he felt the same. 

Luke reached down and began rubbing the tip of his penis around my wet folds, teasing me into a frenzied sweat. He kissed my neck and inched in deeper at a slow and steady pace.  As much as our playfulness was fun, it was a relief when his cock finally settled deep inside, and our bodies began moving in a synchronized rhythm.

I was about to lose my mind! I wrapped my legs around his waist, forcing him harder into my body. I placed my hands on the back of his strong arms and pulled along to the steady rowing motion of his body. I felt like I was floating on water. The sweat dripping from his glistening chest settled onto my jiggling breasts, my pussy tightened around him, and he thrust deeper until he unveiled the perfect spot. The shock of his discovery, one I had never even found on my own, sent shivers of pleasure through my entire body.

My body went numb, and the painting of Ares in the garden being seduced by the flower goddess flashed into my mind. I felt like a flower goddess, but I imagined myself as the one being seduced.  My Ares had wandered into my garden and found the inmost spot to release my pleasure.

I was unable to hold back, so I just let myself scream as I had the deepest, longest, most gratifying orgasm; I slipped into a dream of curvy, soft-bodied Nymphs and well-endowed Satyrs.  Luke balanced on his hands, threw his head back, and let out a deep gravelly groan. His pulsating cock enlarged and spread me wider with long deep thrusts. My pussy gripped his cock as he released hot cum into me. He pulled out and let his final jets of cum stream onto my stomach. 

We lay quiet cuddled together under the tree as if we were longtime lovers.  It felt comfortable, and neither of us felt compelled to force a conversation.  Looking over my lovely garden, as the breeze blew steadily along miles of open space, I thought about his sexy body pressing against mine.  I didn’t envy the minds of my friends that revolve around wealth and the never-ending maintenance required to appear superior to others. Nothing in my life had ever been superior to my peaceful, present paradise.  I enjoyed it alone but enjoying it with him was heavenly.

“I came to my sister’s house to get some R&R and time alone,” said Luke, breaking the silence as we both stood up and began dressing. “But, meeting you is a fun surprise and very relaxing,” he added as if he had read my mind.

“Time alone is overrated.  I built this garden alone, but now I am open to sharing my bounty.  All of it!” I said with a flirty smile as I handed him the full basket of vegetables that I had been collecting earlier.

“You are always welcome, and clothing is optional!” I said as I handed him a nice sized cucumber to add to the basket.