** Author's note: I appreciate the enthusiasm for the next installment of Tell Me if I Need to Stop. I promise I'm working on it but, as I previously said, I outline the wider story arcs and then write them out. Part 4 was the end of the first major story arc and I'm working on charting chapters five through nine (?). They get written quickly once outlined, but you'll need to wait another week or two for part five to drop. Hopefully this one-shot can help tide you over till then. -LV **
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I really only meant to be there a minute, just a quick prideful check of my newly sprouting plants; a necessary little bump of serotonin after a long, stressful day. When I arrived at the community garden, I found the patch I tended boggy, probably overwatered by some enthusiastic neighbor trying to help. It wasn't a problem per se, the plants would survive, but it wasn't something I wanted repeated.
I'm sure I made quite the spectacle as I walked to the shed, clad in heels and a linen dress, pale mint-green with a button-front and belted at the waist. The ground was soft, and I essentially needed to walk on tiptoes to avoid sinking in.
"Hey Sabine!" said Emmett as we crossed paths. Nice guy. His wife has a garden plot too, but he usually only passes through because of his daily jogs. I smiled and waved to him but forgot to say anything in reply as I kept walking — a common gaff of mine when I have something else on my mind. I checked my watch, knowing I needed to hurry. It wouldn't take long to make a quick sign and stick it in my garden on the way back to the car.
The sky was a steeped, dark gray as I stopped in front of the shed. I went to retrieve the padlock key from my purse and felt stupid not realizing until that moment; I had my evening bag instead of my normal purse and no key. On my way back to the car, I saw Emmett again. He makes the garden the halfway point for his runs, and I caught him on his way back out.
"Emmett! Do you have a key to the shed?" I asked, supposing I might as well try.
"No, but didn't they hide one?" he said, stopping and walking over.
"I didn't hear. Do you know where it is?"
"No, but I bet we can find it."
Without another word, he made off down the path towards the shed. I needed to leave. I didn't really have time to come in the first place, but it seemed rude to let Emmett run off on his quest for the key alone. His wife told me he was like this once, a gung-ho type of guy. She said it in terms of certain frustrations it caused but admitted it could be helpful too. Give him a goal and it's the only thing he cares about.
When I caught up to him at the shed, he was already turning over rocks and checking crevices.
"Kind of overdressed for gardening, huh?" he asked, checking if a post was firmly embedded in the ground.
"Oh — Yeah. I didn't really plan on gardening today." I answered. My awkwardness was obvious as I considered telling him to end his search.
"That was a little rude of me. You look really nice."
"Thank you."
I just stood there, unhelpfully, and was finally about to tell him that he should stop and I should go, when he found the key — stuck beneath a gap in the shed's bottom frame.
"So, what are we looking for?" he asked, unlatching the door.
"The signs. We have these little stick-in-the ground signs and I want to tell whoever is trying to drown my plants not to water them."
He stepped in and looked around. He wanted to be helpful but clearly had no idea where anything was kept. I couldn't really get past him because of how cramped the space was and tried to gesture him towards the corner where they were kept, but he didn't take my meaning and started rummaging through a shelf of garden tools. He moved enough that I tried to slip past him. I could actually see the edge of the signs peeking out, but he turned at the absolute worst moment and we bumped into each other and tripped and somehow ended up with my big ass perched on his lap.
"Sorry!" I said scrambling to my feet and scuffing my favorite heels while I did it.
"No problem." he said.
I grabbed one of the signs and a marker and quickly scrawled NO WATERING without looking back at Emmett.
"Thanks for your help." I said dashing out of the shed.
A light sprinkling of rain was just starting.
I really didn't want to cause a problem, it's why, as a rule, I kept my distance from certain men, the attractive and married type. The cruel self-hate to which I was far too accustomed crept in as I tried to jog back to my garden.
It's fine. It's fine. It's just one awkward moment that will probably be forgotten. He can't read my mind. He might not even know I find him attractive. Why the fuck do I always garden at the same time? He's probably seen me watching him on his runs.
The sign sank into the dirt of my garden easily and I foolishly thought I was home free.
"Sabine!" he called, running up from behind me.
Part of me was annoyed but, as I turned to meet him, I noticed he carried my evening bag with him.
"Thanks again." I said, taking my bag.
"No problem. This your garden?" he asked.
"Yup. My other child. I'm hoping she has a better year this year."
"And you think someone else is overwatering it?" He seemed to be surveying the area as he asked the question.
"That's my assumption." My body was angled, hinting my intention to leave.
"It could be that, but it might be flooding because of how low this spot sits."
"Well, thanks so much for the help. I'll look into that tomorrow."
I needed to get out of there. If for no other reason, then at least to stay out of the rain.
"It might not be here tomorrow." he said.
"What?"
"How long has that pile been there?" He indicated a large pile of dirt near my garden. It was covered in a tarp which was held down with paving stones.
"Like a day or two."
"I think it might be channeling water towards your garden. It rained last night. Look, you can see the soil erosion. If it keeps coming down, it could shear off almost your whole garden."
What annoyed me most in that moment was the knowledge that he wasn't full of shit. His job was some sort of environmental or soil engineering type of thing. I couldn't assume he was merely partaking in the idle, baseless speculation that so many men made a hobby of. I should go anyway, risk it, start a new garden next year, but I put so much time into this one.
"Is there even anything we can do?" I asked.
"Well, you probably won't be much help dressed like that but, assuming the rain holds off, I might have time to redirect what's happening."
I tried to tell him it was too much to ask, but he insisted. Emmett went to work, pulling the heavy paving stones off the tarp. His plan was to remove the tarp and use it, along with the paving stones and some of the dirt to prevent the stream that threatened my garden. I'm sure I would have thought of it too, maybe. The rain picked up. I could have retreated to my car but would have felt like too much of an asshole sitting in comfort while he rescued my garden.
"Is there anything I can do?" I asked. He seemed to be rushing as the rain intensified. When he looked up at me, I think he could see I was past the point of no return with my outfit as the sheeting downpour soaked my hair and dress.
"I need a shovel. Fast." he said.
I kicked off my shoes and left them on the wet ground with my handbag. I guess we're saving my garden. By the time I reached the shed, water was already pooling on the ground. At least I wasn't worried about being late anymore. I grabbed the big shovel just inside the shed and made my way back. My bare feet slapped along the muddy path as I sprinted to bring the shovel to Emmett.
When I arrived, he was already on top of the dirt pile, pulling off the tarp. His clothes were completely drenched. I tried to ignore how good his athletic body looked. The wind was whipping up and he motioned for me to grab the tarp corner opposite him. We pulled it to the garden edge and arrayed it using the paving stones to fix it in place.
"You need to stand here and hold it up while I move the dirt." he said.
The stream was already flowing at a decent clip and if I let go of the tarp, it flowed right into the garden. So, I stood in the pouring rain and held it and watched Emmett get to work with the shovel. As he piled shovelful after shovelful onto the tarp to build his makeshift dam, I became aware of myself. My arms and feet were covered with mud, and the dress was wet through. Because of the dense linen material, I hadn't even considered wearing a thicker bra, and the effect was mortifying. The curves of my body, particularly my breasts, were disclosed in a blatant manner and there was no good way to hide. I stood, partially bent forward, holding the edge of the tarp just above my knees while Emmett went back and forth from the dirt pile.
I was terrified that he would see just how flagrantly my body was on display. I waited for the hammer to fall, but it didn't happen as I thought; it was subtle, nearly unrecognizable. Each time Emmett turned back from the pile, his shovel laden with more dirt, his eyes cast over me. He did it as his head turned to obscuring the act. I had nothing to do but watch him and it became easier to tell each time. No, not easier, he grew bolder, making less of an effort to hide what he was doing with each cycle.
After a few minutes the dam was nearly complete, and his scrutiny of my body had evolved from quick glances to long slow stares, as though with each shovelful he gained a greater sense of entitlement over me. He could see that I watched him, but that didn't change his behavior. When there were only a few more trips needed, I realized that I was no longer accomplishing anything by holding onto the edge of the tarp. The barrier was essentially complete, just needing to be folded over on itself to stay intact. I let go of the tarp, but could only stand there, transfixed by some undeniable force.
The rain ran down my body, but, at least, it wasn't cold, or, at least, I didn't feel cold. I tried to use the rain to wash my dirty arms without much effect. It mattered little, I was just trying to distract myself from how obviously my nipples could be seen through my translucent outfit. Emmett dumped the last shovel of dirt and started to fold and tuck the tarp, staring at me the whole time. The air was charged. Yes, he was staring, and shouldn't have been, but I was inviting it when I shouldn't have been. I made no attempt to better hide my body from his gaze. The wet fabric clung fast to my hips and abdomen and nearly every part of me it was meant to conceal.
He tucked the last corner of the tarp, which happened to be right at my feet, and I looked away, playing at wicking the rainwater from my long hair. Emmett stood up and waited for me. It was unavoidable, like we had already started. I just needed to accept reality and turn to him.
I finally capitulated and we were all over one another the instant our eyes met. It's funny, really, that moment when a man's hands finally have the chance to tell you which parts of your body he likes most. Emmett was partial to my butt, unsurprising for any married man who would take the risk for what I had to offer. We kissed deeply, indulging in the sweet, forbidden thrill of our indiscretion. My face angled up to meet his height and I could feel the cool drips of rain cascading down from him to me. We were certainly excited enough, and there was no undoing how wet and filthy we'd become, but those weren’t reasons to do what we planned out in the open.
We ran for the shed. I kept pace with him trailing behind me. I knew he was much faster than me and looked over my shoulder to find him enjoying the view of my butt. It was one of the only parts of me he hadn’t got a good look at. When we stepped inside the shed, the comparative silence from the downpour outside changed the sense of things. The space was dark and cramped, and our brash passions seemed somehow more taboo once enclosed in that intimate sanctuary from the storm. Excess water dripped from us onto the concrete floor. Emmett took off his wet shirt and the armband holding his phone and pulled down his shorts, freely revealing his penis to me. I was about to step forward, to touch him and kiss him once more.
"Start by sucking my dick." he said.
It was probably the next thing we would have progressed to, but his blunt presumption was still surprising. It changed nothing though; I wanted him and dropped to my knees and got to work. I started slow, covering his 'dick' with deep soft kisses and making sure to smack my lips with luxurious obscenity each time. He liked that. I watched him with wide, desirous eyes while I did it, and he stared down at me with an arrogant, prideful look. He had more to be proud of than most men, it was easy to tell from my position. Maybe pride was fair, plenty of men would get off at the idea of a woman giving it up to them so easily, and I was willing to do unspeakable things with him in that dirty toolshed. Why take the risk, if the sex wasn’t going to be mind-blowing?
I took him in my mouth, sucking hard and giving him my most debauched moan. I let him push into my throat, forcing through my body’s need to gag as he got deeper. He edged himself farther in and I had to hold my head up at a sharp, uncomfortable angle to accept him. He held his hands around the back of my skull, and I gurgled and strained as my esophagus spasmed helplessly against invading dick lodged within.
"Take out your tits." he said, suddenly withdrawing himself.
He was lucky he had such a good body. It might have been the reason he expected to get away with the increasing rudeness. I stopped and stood and undid the buttons and the belt of my dress. It seemed like odd timing, for him to make a request which essentially forced me to halt what I was doing, but maybe me stopping was his goal. I could be pretty enthusiastic at fellatio and, for guys who are unaccustomed, things can escalate quicker than they expect. He did seem pretty piqued a moment earlier. If he needed a cooldown, fine, I would take my tits out for him. The damp dress was glued to my body. I peeled it off and it dropped in a heavy, sodden heap on the floor.
In my brief moment of vulnerability, when I reached back to unhook my bra, Emmett pulled me close to him. My flesh was still cold from the moisture and his body's warmth was pleasing. I slipped off the bra. His erection pointed straight up between us, pressing against my belly. He fondled my breasts and again his heat added an exciting edge to his touch. He gripped my breasts callously, pulling them up till my nipples met his lips. His level of roughness showed how indifferent he was to my comfort, but my body loved him for it. I stood on tiptoes as my breasts stretched uncomfortably to meet his mouth. He hungrily sucked and licked my rigid nipples.
The arousal shot down my body, tightening muscles in my thighs shook as I waited in anxious anticipation of what he would do next. With one hand I toyed with his penis, more reveling in its wonderful heft than truly trying to stimulate it. His mouth unlatched from my areola with an audible pop, and I sighed in reaction. He looked down and saw me holding his erection and moved his hips forward, massaging his dick within my grip. Then, he reached and snatched up the front of my panties, pulling them violently away from my body. The underwear strained so severely that I could hear the seam-threads snapping. The back of the panties wedgied uncomfortably between my ass cheeks. Emmett did not let up, wrenching them forward until he ripped them off of me.
"Sit here." he said in a domineering tone.
It seemed that I might have been wrong about how nice he was, but I got in position on the low counter he indicated to me. He pushed aside some planter trays and laid me back fully. I took up the logical position, lifting my legs and spreading them. My butt was at the edge of the counter, giving him easy access to me. He got in position, but took a moment to drink me in, looking over his conquest, my body, with cruel ravenous eyes I'd never seen from him before.
"Damn, you have a pretty pussy. You want to feel my dick in you?" he said.
As much as he was making the case against, by revealing a meaner side of himself, I was turned on and felt sexy because of his lusting objectifications. He teased his penis along my entrance. I wanted him.
"Yes." I answered.
He was big and I was wet, and the combination of us was made audible as he penetrated me. A damp squishing rhythm played its profane tune as I coated his magnificent cock with my arousal. It had been a long time for me, and I let out a plaintive moan.
"You really like how it feels, don't you." he said with conspicuous pride.
"Yes." I admitted breathlessly.
He straightened up and adjusted my legs, closing them together and pointing them straight up to rest against his right shoulder. He was deep within me while my feet now lolled carelessly above his head. I continued to lay on my back as he used me. My body twitched repeatedly, agitated by the thrill I felt from his dick pushing deeper and deeper inside. A hot, frenetic awakening grew within me, and I coiled and writhed while he fucked me. His arms were around my legs which still pointed straight up, and he used his leverage to drive himself forward with fierce purpose.
"Tell me how much you love my dick, slut." he said.
He was turning out to be quite horrible, but how much better was I?
"It's fucking amazing." I admitted.
"Tell me!"
"YOUR DICK IS FUCKING AMAZING!"
His palm slapped my ass hard, again and again, leaving pink welts on my cheek. He made no attempt to see if I was comfortable with the harsh way he treated me, but I loved it all. He might have been a total asshole, but he was amazing at sex.
"HUHHG!" I sighed.
"Look at you, about to come." he said.
I couldn't hide it, and I didn't want to. My involuntary moans spurred him on. The whole counter shook and whined beneath me. I gripped a bar near my head for support as my body tensed up.
"MMMMMMM-AAHHHH!" I cried, watching the cocky look in his eyes.
My climax was a bright explosion of pleasure, during which I'm positive my face was stuck in an ugly, pitiful expression. Emmett didn't slow as he seemed almost there himself. With my legs still over his shoulder, he essentially folded me in half as he arrived. I was still at the end of my orgasm, bent and trapped and quivering as I felt the surge of his hot jism fill me.
I was in mild shock afterwards. It was incredible, but I didn’t need to tell Emmett. So, I said nothing. He got ready quickly, rushing to slip on his shorts and shirt, and I noticed him stuff my torn underwear into his pocket. I was still naked on the counter, my body humming with post-coital euphoria as he stepped out of the shed.
It sounded like the rain had stopped.