My Confession: I Seduced the Gardener Alone at the Villa

I have to confess it, even though I still blush when I remember it. I needed to disconnect from everything, so my friend Marina lent me the house she has on the coast, a beautiful villa with a garden and a pool, perfect for spending a few quiet days. Before giving me the keys, she told me just one thing: if I needed any help with the house, I should ask the gardener, who came by a couple of times a week and was completely trustworthy, discreet, and helpful. I had no idea just how much I was going to put that discretion to the test.

On the first day I woke up late, with the sun already high and the sound of the sea in the background. I heard a motor in the garden and peeked out from the bedroom window. And there he was.

He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with the dark skin of someone who works outdoors. He had his torso bare and was wearing work shorts, and sweat glistened on his back as he handled the brush cutter. I stayed longer than I should have watching him from behind the curtain, feeling something slowly ignite inside me. My nipples hardened under my nightgown and I felt my cunt wetting just from imagining those big hands gripping my hips.

I didn’t come here for this, I thought. But who says I can’t.

I dug through my suitcase for the yellow bikini, the smallest, boldest one I owned, the one I hardly ever dare to wear. I put it on, let my hair down, and went down to the garden as if nothing were happening. When he saw me, he couldn’t hide his look of surprise. He swallowed hard and dropped his eyes for a second before lifting them again.

—Good morning —I said, approaching with a smile—. I’m Marina’s friend. You must be the one who takes care of all this.

I gave him two kisses on the cheek. He smelled of sun and freshly cut earth. I told him to keep doing what he was doing, that I was going for a swim in the pool, and I walked away knowing his eyes were following me every step of the way.

I loved heating him up like that, without even touching him. I got into the water, swam a couple of lengths, and every time I surfaced I looked for him and smiled. He pretended to focus on trimming a hedge, but he kept turning his head again and again.

—The water’s great —I told him after a while, leaning on the edge—. Why don’t you take a swim?

—I have to finish this first —he replied, his voice a little hoarse—. But as soon as I’m done, gladly.

I got out of the pool unhurriedly, letting the water run down my body, and lay back on a lounger in the sun. I told him that when he was done we’d have a beer, or whatever he felt like. He said he was almost finished, so I went into the house, prepared two ice-cold beers and something to nibble on.

When I came back, I rubbed sunscreen on the front of my body, slowly, feeling him watch me out of the corner of his eye. I ran my hands over my tits longer than necessary, squeezing them, letting my nipples poke hard against the wet fabric of the bikini. Then I asked, with all the innocence I could fake, if he would put some cream on my back. His hands were big and firm, and he moved them with such delicacy that I got goosebumps. I felt his breath near the nape of my neck and knew he was just as nervous as I was, only far more restrained.

We sat and chatted over our beers in the shade of a bougainvillea heavy with flowers. He told me it was his day off from his main job and that he used it to come tend the garden. We talked about the sea, the house, Marina, but neither of us was paying much attention to the words. I moved slowly, crossed and uncrossed my legs, swept my hair from my face with a languid gesture. He didn’t take his eyes off me, and beneath the fabric of his shorts the bulge of a hard cock was visible, no longer something he could hide. My mouth watered imagining it.

Every silence between us weighed like a promise. I could feel the sun’s heat on my skin and, beneath it, another kind of heat rising slowly from my belly. It had been a long time since a man looked at me like that, as if I were the only thing in the world. Under my bikini bottoms my cunt was soaking wet, and it wasn’t just because of the pool water.

—Please, use tu —I told him when he addressed me formally again—. You make me feel old.

He laughed, embarrassed, and nodded. I asked if he wanted to stay for lunch and spend the day with me, to keep me company. He said it would be a pleasure, and I could tell the word was hard for him to say.

***

Despite the obvious desire, he didn’t dare make a move. He treated me with a respect that was almost maddening. I understood that if I wanted anything, I was going to have to be the one to break the ice, little by little, without scaring him off.

After a while he told me he was going to the back of the garden, where the tools were kept, to shower and put on a swimsuit. I knew the house from other visits, and I knew perfectly well that from the window of one of the rooms you could see that area. I went upstairs, pretending to be distracted, and peered out.

I saw him undress from behind, then turn around. He had a magnificent body, and a huge cock, thick, the tip reddened, which the cold water couldn’t make go down no matter how hard he tried. He gripped it for a moment and gave it a slow shake under the stream, and I was almost about to let out a moan. I bit my lip watching him, feeling my pulse quicken and my heart hammer in my chest. Without realizing it, I slipped my hand into my panties and rubbed my clit a couple of times with two fingers, noticing how wet I already was. I had to pull my hand away to keep from coming right there against the window. When he finished drying off and put on his swimsuit, I hurried down to the pool area to wait for him, as if I hadn’t seen anything.

He arrived and I offered him a glass of wine. I told him to take a dip while I brought it out. When he jumped into the water I could still see the outline of his cock under the swimsuit, and I smiled to myself. I poured the drinks, opened a bottle, set it in an ice bucket, and put out some snacks on the table in the shade.

—I’m going to take off the top —I announced casually—. I don’t want tan lines. If I do it on the beach in front of strangers, I don’t see why not here.

I untied my bikini and got into the pool with my tits out. I swam to the area where the water reached my waist, just so he could see me well, my nipples hard and erect from the coolness of the water, and we talked for a while at close range, with that thick tension floating between us. Afterward I suggested we go out and drink the wine. I walked toward the table without hurrying, knowing he was following me with his eyes, devouring me, my tits bouncing with every step.

I took the towel, dried myself a little, and poured the wine. We toasted. As I drank, I let a stream of wine run over my chest, between my nipples, and I laughed.

—It’s nice and cold —I said—. Lovely.

I saw his jaw tighten. I told him he should protect himself from the sun too, picked up the bottle, and started rubbing cream into his back. I knelt behind him and went down over his legs, first from behind, then from the front, slowly working my way up to the edge of his swimsuit, and a little beyond. I brushed the bulge of his cock through the fabric with the backs of my fingers and felt him jolt. His breath came in broken little bursts under my fingers.

—Relax —I whispered—. Enjoy it.

I stood up and, always from behind, put cream on his shoulders and chest, pressing myself against his back, rubbing my hardened nipples against him, letting him feel the heat of my cunt against his ass. I already had him surrendered. I slid my hands over his stomach, slowly, until I slipped them inside the swimsuit and took his cock directly in my hand. It was rock-hard, burning, throbbing in my palm. I started to jerk him off slowly, squeezing well, pulling the foreskin up and down, feeling the wet head slick with pre-cum. He let out a deep sigh and threw his head back, resting it on my shoulder, while he let me do as I pleased.

—What a cock you have… —I whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe—. I’ve been thinking about this all morning.

I turned him toward me. I picked up a glass, brought it to my mouth, and tilted it on purpose so the wine spilled over my tits, trickling down my belly. I pulled him to me and we finally kissed, a long, hungry kiss, held back for hours, our tongues seeking each other without restraint. Then I offered him my wine-wet skin, and he licked it with a desire that made me tremble, sucking one nipple, then the other, nibbling them while he held me by the hips and slid his hand inside my thong. His fingers found my soaked cunt and sank in with ease. I moaned against his neck when he started moving them inside me, searching me, while his thumb rubbed my clit.

—You’re dripping —he murmured against my ear, and it was the first time I’d heard him talk like that.

—Wait —I told him, gently pushing him away, though it cost me the world—. We have all day.

Then it was me who spilled wine over his chest and abdomen. I bent down to lick it, tracing him with my tongue, slowly working my way down his sternum, following the line of hair to his navel, until I knelt in front of him on the towel. I pulled down his swimsuit slowly and his cock sprang free, hard, thick, veins raised and the tip shining. I took it in my hand and brought it to my face, rubbing it along my cheek, over my lips, feeling its heat and its clean, manly smell. I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip, gathering that drop of pre-cum, and I smiled up at him from below.

—Do you like how I suck it? —I asked before taking him between my lips.

I took him into my mouth slowly, first just the head, sucking on it like candy, playing with my tongue around the glans. Then I kept swallowing him little by little, as much as I could, until I could feel him in the back of my throat. He let out a rough groan and his hips trembled. With one hand I grabbed his balls and stroked them, squeezing them gently, and with the other I started jerking the base while I moved up and down with my mouth, faster and faster, letting a thread of saliva run down to his balls.

I took him all the way out of my mouth, gave his balls one long lick up to the tip, and swallowed him again until I was choking. I spat on him, slapped him against my tongue, rubbed him over my tits, and took him in again. He tangled his fingers in my hair, not forcing me, only guiding me, and his breathing quickened. I looked up at him from below, eyes wet, mouth full and lips stretched around his cock, and I knew that sight was killing him.

—I’m going to come —he panted—. I’m going to come…

I sped up too, hand and mouth in the same rhythm, sucking him hard, not letting go. I felt him tense all over, hold his breath for a second, and then he came, with an intensity that surprised even me. I felt the first hot spurt of cum hit the back of my palate, then another, and another, thick, salty. I held on until the end, swallowing what I could, letting the rest run down my chin and onto my chest. When I finally pulled away, with his cock still hard between my lips, I realized I had come too, trembling between his legs, without his even touching me, just from the excitement of having him like that, surrendered, coming in my mouth.

I straightened slowly, still with my heart racing and his semen shining on my tits. There was one last sip of wine left in my glass. I looked at him, smiled with my lips smeared, and drank, savoring that moment I had no intention of forgetting.

***

We spent the rest of the day between laughter, swims, and caresses, unhurried, as if we had known each other all our lives. He got hard again before lunch and I rode him in the lounger, fucking him slowly, my tits bouncing in his face and his hands squeezing my ass, until I came on his cock with a cry that scared the birds out of the garden. In the afternoon we ate in the shade, our feet still wet and my sex still throbbing between my legs, and as the sun went down we went into the house together, hand in hand, with no hurry at all to pretend.

I’m not going to tell you everything that happened after that. Some things I’d rather keep to myself. I’ll only say that he fucked me against the hallway wall before we even made it to the bedroom, that that bed endured things it hadn’t known in years, and that those days alone in Marina’s villa became the memory I bring back every time I need to smile inside, or slide my hand between my legs in the dark. I came there to disconnect, and I disconnected from everything I thought I knew about myself. Sometimes desire appears where you least expect it, and all it takes is daring to take the first step.