When Stephanie left her apartments in the morning, she felt dreamy, detached from reality. She walked through the streets unable to focus, taking wrong turns and tracing back on her steps. It was a feeling not dissimilar from when she had first kissed a boy, so many years ago, or when she gave her virginity to the Duke of Falwell during her summer studies.
She and Tom had spent the entire night fucking. After the first of many orgasms, she urged Tom to take her again and again, and the Gardener complied. He was as tireless as she was insatiable, and she discovered an unsuspected, bottomless well of lust and desire and need inside her.
He rode her for hours, and allowed him to maneuver her body like a puppet, ceding herself completely to his whims and wills. Some of her friends disliked the taste of cum, others did not allow their lovers to fill them with seed; Stephanie enjoyed the feeling of a man climaxing in her mouth, or the sight of a cock twitching and shooting loads of semen between her fingers or nested in her tits, and so she allowed – no, she asked Tom to do so, to cum as he pleased, and he did. First, with his cock engulfed so comfortably in her mouth, and oh, how good was the taste of his cum mixed with her own juice, it was perfect for Stephanie, the salty, manly taste, and the flow, too, not as abundant as to force her to retreat, but a fulfilling load nonetheless, just the right amount, as if it had been made just for her, a match made in heaven. Then, after another hour of fucking and countless orgasms for her, he came between her tits, and then it was just overflowing, it seemed as if that warm shower of cum, that she was enjoying immensely, would never stop, not before her breasts, and her neck, and her face, were all covered in the white, dense seed.
This were Stephanie’s thoughts in the morning after, images flashing in her mind, and she could not explain how Tom’s cock could be so perfect in every occasion, it was everything at the same time, a cock of all trades, really.
Light-headed, she made her way to her breakfast meeting at the Mallions. A gentleman smiled at her and brought two fingers to his hair, right above his left ear, nodding amenably as he passed. She mimicked the gesture, touching her own hair, only to find them sticky with a drop of semen. She quickly cleaned them with her handkerchief and walked at a briskier pace. She had cleaned herself without really paying attention at what she was doing, so she had probably missed a few spots, but Lord Edmure Mallion and his wife Eleanor were good friends, and certainly wouldn’t give too much importance to etiquette if she went to breakfast with a few stains of semen here or there.
That was another mistery from the night before. Despite the endless amounts of semen poured on her body, after Tom finally left at dawn, and when she eventually found the strength and will to get up from the bed, the satin sheets were immaculate; she couldn’t find a single drop of cum staining the precious Parisian fabric, no inconvenient damp patch for her maid to clean, except from the ones left by her own juice and sweat. If it weren’t for the cum still drying on her body and hair, it would have been as if Tom had never been there for the night.
Stephanie liked to keep herself busy with a dense schedule of social events. She plunged into as many activities as possible, not allowing herself to think too much about her one night stand with the Gardener.
However, for the first time since her debutante ball, the myriad of teas and brunches and social evenings left Stephanie bored and restless. Even the Summer Dance at Lord and Lady Bestel’s mansion seemed to have lost most of its shine. Stephanie listlessly gave a handjob or two, and feigned excitement at the oral attentions received by Lord Bestel himself, in part because she didn’t want to offend her host, and in part because she knew that if she didn’t participate at all, her friends would worry and pester her about her lack of enthusiasm for one of the most awaited events of the year.
The Charity Dinner was the sole exception. Stephanie genuinely enjoyed the evening because she shared the joy of her best friend, Marguerite. The young dame had selflessly accepted to put herself up for auction, so that the proceeds could go to charity for the poor and destitute. The evening proved to be a success in more than one sense. Even a mere handjob or blowjob attracted high bids, and the offers came in at a brisk pace; in the end, John Sendar, the young heir to the Sendar family, won the auction with an outrageously high bid that granted him a night with “no limits” in company of Marguerite.
After the auction, Marguerite came to speak with Stephanie at the bar, her eyes shining with joy and excitement. Stephanie’s heart swelled with happiness for her friend, because she knew that Marguerite had always had feelings for John, and his offer was not only flattering even in the context of a charity event, but it was also clear proof that he, too, reciprocated her feelings.
“I’m so happy for you, Marguerite”, said Stephanie, holding both hands of her friend.
Marguerite smiled, cheeks flushed for the excitement of the evening – she just had the time to get dressed after being progressively exposed to the assembled crowd of nobles and wealthy, influent citizens.
“Are you worried about the ‘no limits’ part of your duty? I am sure John will interpret it as a gentleman, and push it no further than sodomy”, inquired Stephanie.
“No, no, not at all”, Marguerite replied. “I am actually looking forward to it. I do hope John will be more… daring” .
Stephanie nodded, and smiled warmly to her friend. “Well then, just make sure to send him the right signals. I am sure he cares about you so much that he will be afraid of pushing it too far”.
Marguerite laughed, then stared at Stephanie with a more serious look: “What about you? Are you all right? In the past few weeks, you have been… distant. Don’t make me worry”.
Stephanie shooed away her concerns with a flip of her slender wrist, then both laughed and went back to their tables.
—
—
The truth was that for weeks on end, Tom the Gardener never left Stephanie’s thoughts, no matter what she did or who she fucked. Actually, sex only made it worse, because no cock could compare and her memories kept running back to that night. Stephanie’s main regret was that she didn’t ask the Gardener to fuck her ass; in the heat of her passion, she just wanted to have her pussy filled, to taste his seed, but now she kept wondering how that wonderful, perfect cock would have felt deep in her asshole. Would it have been too much to take?
Stephanie refused to admit her obsession even with herself. She never mentioned that one night to her friends, not even those who had mentioned Tom’s sexual prowess in the first place, because she feared they would have been able to tell, right away, that she wasn’t over that one night stand. Stephanie hated feeling like a teenager drooling over a boy, and at the same time she simply couldn’t fathom how her friends who had slept with Tom could so easily forget him and move on.
Over and over she pondered whether to go and ask him to spend another night together. But Lady Bizelle’s warning resounded clear in her head. He won’t sleep with you twice, she had said, and Stephanie couldn’t bear the thought of the indignity, the humiliation, of being refused by the Gardener.
As the days passed, however, she gradually convinced herself that, certainly, their night together had been so fulfilling, so satisfying, that Tom wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to repeat the experience, and even enjoy some additional benefits. Stephanie was a beautiful girl, no, a Lady now, and she could certainly charm and seduce a common Gardener.
These two states of mind – the fear of being rejected and the confidence in her seductive skills – conflicted inside her until she received an invitation to an afternoon tea at Lady Bizelle’s mansion.
She spent the entire morning choosing the perfect dress for the occasion. She needed to be sexy and alluring, but not overtly so, as she didn’t want to make her intentions too obvious for the other attendants. In the end she opted for a pale green dress that highlighted her cleavage without revealing too much, elegant but not excessive for a simple afternoon tea.
She was at Lady Bizelle’s mansion at 5:30 in the afternoon. It was a small gathering with just six guests: the Lord and Lady of Monansburgh, the newlyweds Suzanne and Peter De Beveries, Lady Cremaliere and Stephanie herself.
Lady Bizelle was an impeccable host, but the company was badly assorted, with not enough topics in common to discuss, not enough familiarity to initiate a gossip without risking offending some of the guests, and opposing political views between the conservative Monansburghs and liberal De Beveries which made conversation a mined field.
Stephanie was grateful to Suzanne, the young and innocent looking new bride of Peter De Beveries, when she decided to break the ice by discreetly unbuttoning the trousers of her husband, sitting to her right, and of the Lord of Monansburgh, who sat to her left, to take out their respective cocks and start stroking them at the same time.
Stephanie’s eyes fixed on the short and fat cock of Lord Monansburgh, and on the longer, more slender cock of Peter De Beveries, as the nimble fingers of Suzanne quickly brought them both to a full erection. She was getting wet, but she had no desire to join in, not even when the Lady of Monansburgh leaned in on her chair and put her lips around the tip of her husband’s cock, while Suzanne moved her hand lower on the shaft to be able to keep jerking him off.
Lady Cremalerie kindly signaled to Stephanie that she was free to go down on Peter’s cock as well, but Stephanie refused with a vague gesture of her hand, allowing the older lady to take her place.
Lady Bizelle, as usual, kept her composure, an amused glint in her eyes as she continued to sip her tea and amicably converse with both men, who seemed to enjoy the services of the three ladies.
When it was clear that the five guests would not take offense, Stephanie excused herself, claiming she would be back in a short while. “Are you feeling unwell, dear?”, asked Lady Bizelle. It was a daring question, one that would have bordered on the offensive had it not come from the elderly Lady of the House. “Or are your thoughts someplace else?”, she insisted.
Stephanie felt her cheeks redden, as she was sure that the smart old fox could read her intentions as easily as an open book. “I just need some air, that’s all. I feel this is too much excitement for me today. I will be back shortly”, she said, curtly.
Lady Bizelle nodded. “You should take a stroll through my garden. It could help you clear your head”, she smiled.
Stephanie didn’t reply, and instead walked out of the tea room. She walked slowly, accompanied by Lady Bizelle’s zealous butler who fetched her hat and walking parasol, before she dismissed him.
Tom was there. He was kneeling next to a hedge, uprooting some weeds from the soil. She ignored him, but her heart started racing, a surge of emotions at his sight. She forced herself to casually stroll through the garden, pretending to enjoy its beauty, lightly touching flowers that she didn’t actually pay any attention to.
It took her 10 minutes, the 10 longest minutes in her life, to casually walk to the spot where the Gardener was still intent on cleaning the hedge’s roots.
“OH. Monsieur le jardinier. How are you?”, she asked, feeling stupid. Was this the best she could manage to say?
Tom turned without standing up. “Miss”, he greeted her.
“I…ah…I was taking a stroll around the garden. I am visiting Lady Bizelle”, she added, unnecessarily.
Tom nodded and didn’t add anything. He was clearly waiting for her to leave so that he could resume his work.
Stephanie fidgeted with her parasol. “Tom. I was thinking, that, ah, last month, I mean the last time we met, it was clearly, how could you say, an adventurous night”.
“You want to fuck?”
Stephanie laughed, a short, nervous laugh, but her heart filled with joy and excitement, and an unexpected rush of heat filled her loins. “Well, Tom, I wasn’t… But yes, it was very nice and I would gladly…”
“I won’t fuck you again, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss”, Tom interrupted her again, lowering his hat on his head and starting to turn towards the hedge.
Stephanie felt her hopes and her heart shatter. It was as if she was going to sink through the soil. “But… Why…”, she stuttered. “I mean, it was clearly pleasant for both of us and there would be nothing bad…”.
Tom resumed his work without replying.
“I…well… We didn’t try everything we could… Surely you may be interested in fucking my ass?”
Tom shook his head. “I’m sorry Miss, that’s very kind of you, and I mean no offense, but my answer is still no.”.
Stephanie was fuming now, and yet a feeling of dread and desperation rivaled with the anger caused by the affront to her dignity. Never before had she been so explicitly refused. She stomped her foot and put on the stern, authoritative face that his father used with his underlings. “I will pay you then, Monsieur le jardinier. How much do you want for one night of services?”.
Tom rose to his feet. Slowly. He didn’t turn to face her, but Stephanie could read how much he despised her from the rigidity of his back and the way he kept his neck reclined, and she knew immediately she had done a grave mistake.
“I am sure Miss Bizelle is waiting for you. Have a good day, Miss”, Tom said, and walked away without any further ado.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ezcr66/the_gardener_chapter_2_in_which_stephanie_keeps