It was the middle of June. Almost to the Summer solstice (June 21st). Pappy was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a ‘cuppa’ tea and watching his daughter Eileen help her mom prune and weed the garden. The garden was right behind the kitchen window and most of it could be seen from the table. It was a nice sunny day, no clouds and not too warm. Eileen’s four-year-old son, Ian, was swinging himself over at the play area.
Pappy couldn’t help but notice that the ladies were spending most of their time bent over at the waist while they worked. They both looked good out there. Eileen was wearing a pair of really short shorts that were working their way into the crack of her ass as she worked. Her tank top hugged her B-cups just fine. Her nipples started to become evident as the slight breeze evaporated the sweat accumulating in the fabric. Pappy knew that he shouldn’t be looking at his daughter that way, but damn, she looks really good. Why did that no-good son-of-a-bitch ever walk away from that?
And Mum, she is looking really good today, too. When she bends over facing his way, Pappy can see right down her loose blouse looking at her ‘hanger-clangers’ in all their glory. The same slight breeze that is stiffening the nipples of her daughter seems to be working its same magic on the mother. What a show! And on the occasion that she is facing the other way, well that bent over position looks so very inviting that he notices the onset of a little ‘chubby’ starting in his pants. Mum is wearing a pair of respectable shorts (when she is standing up), but bent over like that, they snug up in all the right (wrong?) places and leave little to the imagination. Ah, life is good.
Pappy drifts off a little, remembering days long gone when he and Mum still lived in ‘Merry Olde England’ and she toiled in a similar, but bigger garden, behind the cottage that they rented on the outskirts of Port Isaac, Cornwall. The cottage had been there for a couple of hundred years and the almost continual farming and planting had uncovered and removed the numerous rocks and stones that had been in the ground. This left a nice loamy soil that allowed for both bountiful and beautiful gardens. The place was probably haunted, but he had never seen nor heard anything. Actually, he couldn’t care less.
Those rocks and stones, deposited by the glaciers, had accumulated over the years and been fashioned into stone walls which ran along the road and formed rather permanent property lines. The walls were, in places, almost four feet tall and most were loosely mortared with inexpensive concrete. More substantial assemblies were created at the entrances to each of the properties. These were seriously concreted such that they would support a swinging gate hinged directly into the stone. Nobody locked their gates. This was a beautiful place, in nice weather, and in less than ideal conditions it tended to be damp and dreary.
Pappy thought back to a particular day when his fairly new bride was diligently working in the garden. She had inherited the gardening gene from her mother who credited a long line of farmers in her past. On a bright sunny day, much like this one, he was stood in the doorway looking out at her bending over like that, right there about fifteen feet away. He was on a three-day holiday from work while they retooled the facility for the next product run. Three days off, with pay, with nothing to do but hang about while all the other blokes trundled off to work all day. Nothing else to do? Just look at that fine woman bending over out there. He wondered if he could invite her into the cottage to bend over for a little while in here .
They had been married for two years now and he couldn’t be any happier with his life. He had a beautiful wife, and a nice snug cottage, a fairly good job and good prospects with his employer. He got his leg over on a fairly regular basis and as luck would have it, his wife often put the moves on him without being asked. No kids yet, but atakent escort they would come. This was just wonderful.
So, without delay, he strolled out into the garden silently sneaking up behind his wife. She was wearing a loose house dress and, when bent at the waist, it came up a bit in the back showing two nicely fashioned legs. He put his hands onto her hips and bumped his groin into her butt without saying a word. Startled, his dear wife yelped out a “Cheeesus!” and took a quick step forward turning to him with a little fire in her eyes. “I had forgotten that you were home”!
Laughing at her reaction, he reached for her; pulling her to him and pressed her up to his front with both arms around her. She relaxed and gave him a big kiss and hugged him back. As soon as he was certain that she was not going to swat him, he moved his one hand down and grabbed her by the arse. “Oi, the neighbors will see us “she groaned. “Then let’s take it inside for a few minutes and use the time for a more productive enterprise” he responded.
Looking a little flushed, she smiled and said: “Were you just watching me the entire time that I was out here slaving in the garden?”
He replied: “Not for that long, come into the cottage and let me show me appreciation for all the hard work.”
She nodded her agreement and watched him turn to go back into the cottage. Taking a long moment to look all around her, she stood her ground and waited for him to get to the doorway. When he turned to look back at her, she showed him that she was serious about the proposed encounter by reaching down, lifting up the sides of her dress and pushing her knickers down. She bent over, picked up her kickers, straightened up and gave him a big smile. She walked to the cottage with a sort of swagger that he remembered her describing as ‘my fuck-me walk’.
She stolled into the cottage tossing her knickers onto the kitchen table. Standing there with her feet spread apart about as far as her shoulders, she put her hands onto her hips and said: “Well, what did you have in mind then?”
Without saying a word, he put his hands on her waist and picked her up and sat her onto the small counter next to the kitchen sink. Standing between her legs, he lifted up the front of her dress and bundled it around her waist. Her aroma drifted up to him, enhancing the ardor of his growing erection. She gave him a long hard kiss and looked him straight in the eyes and said: “Well?”
With that, he undid his belt and let his trousers fall to the floor. His short pants were soon to follow. He grabbed his erect cock and proceeded to run it up and down her moistening slit. Eventually, feeling the opening of her womanhood, and still looking her straight in the eyes, he pressed himself into her with one long straight thrust. He watched as her eyes opened a little bit wider, then got a little glassy as she reacted to the welcome intrusion. The kitchen counter was just the right height to facilitate a good rogering of a woman this size. And roger her he intended to do.
He began to give her some long slow strokes. She responded with a rocking of her hips that increased the friction on the withdraw. All was going well as they continued to have their way with each other.
“Grandpa, can I have a Juice box?”
“What!” Pappy almost jumped completely out of his chair. There stood Ian, looking expectantly at his grandfather waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry lad, what did you say?” He couldn’t believe that his reverie had been interrupted by his dear, dear, grandson. He was sporting a full woody and was having a little trouble clearing his head.
Ian said it again: “Grandpa, can I have a juice box?”
Pappy got up, slowly. Walked over to the fridge keeping his front turned slightly away from the young man and took out a juice box. “Here you go, lad. Take it outside and enjoy.”
As soon as the boy went out the ataköy escort door, Pappy sat back down, a little shaken. The boy had actually startled him from his daydream and his heart was racing a little. Just then, Mum came in the back door and, after looking at Pappy she said: “Are you all right, dear? You look a little flushed.”
“Yes, I’m just fine. I was daydreaming and Ian startled me. I’ll be OK in a couple of minutes.”
“You don’t look right, just yet”, she said.
“Oh, I’ll be all fit in short order – don’t worry yourself, woman.”
“Is there anything that I can do for you or get for you?” she asked.
“Well, now that you mention it and ask so nicely, why don’t you set yourself up on this kitchen counter and see if we are still lined up.”
Thinking that he might be rambling from the effects of a stroke or something, Mum was hesitant and only walked over to the counter and leaned against it.
“Nay, you have to sit yourself on the counter with your legs hanging down.” He bellowed.
Mum pulled a chair over, and using it as a step, she managed to get her bum onto the kitchen counter. Looking at Pappy she said: “So, now what?”
Pappy got up and walked slowly to the back door and turned the latch to ‘locked’. Then he walked over to where Mum was patiently waiting for him and stood himself between her knees. Looking down, he made a rough assessment and announced to Mum: “Yup, I think that this counter is the right height – the same height as the one in our first cottage, in Cornwall. Remember it?”
Mum thought about it and after a moment a glint came into her eyes as she did remember the counter that Pappy was talking about. “That bench was a bit rickety, it was,” She said
“Yeah, but it served us well that day and a few other times as I recall.” Pappy seemed to be drifting back to his memories when Mum asked him if the day he was remembering was the day that “I dropped my knickers in the garden?”
“Yes, that’s exactly the day that I was remembering when Ian scared the bloody shit out of me asking for a juice box. ” Pappy grumbled on.
Mum: “That was a very special day. I had noticed (along with all the other women in the village,) that we had been married for almost two years, but that there had been no off-spring; not even any near misses. I was worried, too. So, on one of the Saturdays that you had to work, I consulted my Mum for her advice.”
“My mum had asked a lot of questions about if and when we do ‘it’, how often do we do ‘it’, what spells or rituals I might use to better out chances, and a lot more personal questions about my cycle and things of that sort. Eventually she came to some conclusions:
“First, you’re not paying enough attention to your garden”; I was to set aside even more time for gardening.
“Second, you need to fertilize your garden; and, that would help to fertilize you.”
She then gave me this little poem. The original was in Welsh, but this is the English translation. It rhymes better in English and, who knows, it may have been English to start with only to be usurped by the people of Wales.
It went like this:
Relieve your man using just your hand,
Catch it all, or all you can.
Into the water, Naked, with a sprig of mint,
Cast in the garden, He’ll get the hint.
It means to give your husband a ‘manual release’ (a hand job) and collect as much of his fluid as you can. Dissolve it in water and add a small sprig from a mint plant. Water your garden, naked, with the mixture and you will soon get pregnant.
Trusting my mother, I decided to give it a try. About six weeks later, you came home ‘pissed’ one evening after a long game of ‘flinging tha arrows’ (Throwing Darts) down at the local. You were really pissed and could hardly stand on your own. I guided you up to the bed, pulled off your boots and pants, and laid you out on the bed. I finished what atalar escort I had to do and soon joined you. You had a pretty good erection going, but you were out like a light. So, seizing the moment, and using a generous dab of cold cream, I began to work the little fellow over. You did respond to my ministrations, but you never woke up. Fairly soon, you were moaning and spewing your seeds into the palm of my hand. I covered you with the blanket and quickly ran down stairs to immerse my hand in the watering can. After all of the goo was in the bucket, I rooted around in my herb collection and found a perfectly size sprig of mint. I put this into the watering can as well, and stirred the contents with the handle of my broom.
Not wanting to wait any longer, I stripped off my night dress, lit a candle and went out to the garden. I cast the seed-bearing water onto all the plants, bushes and small trees. I rinsed out the watering can, for good measure, and put all that into the garden, too. Then I went to bed and to sleep, rather quickly.
The following day, I walked over to my mother’s place. I asked her how long it would take for ‘watering semen’ to take effect. “Just a few days, you will know when he is ready to give you a child, and you will know it came from this ancient ritual.” My Mum told me.
Mum: “Well, sure enough, I do remember that day that you called me into the cottage from the garden. As soon as you walked back to the house and stood there in the doorway, I knew that I would be ‘with child’ before the day was out.”
With this statement out, Mum looked down at where her crotch lined up in relation to Pappy’s cock. She made a decision. “It appears that this counter is at just that same precise height.” Pappy walked over to the back door and pulled down the shade. He quickly scanned around the kitchen and was convinced that all views of the Kitchen Counter area were essentially blocked from outside the house. He went back to the counter and helped Mum to get down. Standing on the floor, Mum unfastened her shorts and let them fall. She had to pull her knickers out of her crack, but they, too, wound up on the floor. Pappy put his hands under her arms and lifted her, allowing Mum to get back on the counter just as she was before.
Pappy checked for a quiet house again and then walked over and stood between Mums open legs. She gave him a knowing smile and nodded her head for him to continue. Pappy dropped his trouser to the floor and stepped out of them. He kicked them away from the immediate area. Next his short pants went the same way. As Pappy approached Mum, she stared him straight in the eyes and repeated her nod for him to ‘get on with it’.
Pappy slid his cock up and down Mums womanly crease, eventually finding the soft spot. By this time, Mum had lubricated her pussy naturally and was quite ready to receive her man. Pappy pushed a little and Mum gave a little and soon Pappy’s cock was buried all the way in Mums vagina. He started stroking into her and she met him stroke for stroke. Soon enough, Pappy unloaded a giant-sized stream of himself into Mum and it looked like Mum enjoyed a small spontaneous orgasm just as Pappy popped his cork. Staying just like that for a few more moments, Pappy told Mum that he was still as happy with her as he was when they lived in Cornwall.
“Was it as you remembered it”? Pappy asked
“Maybe even better.” Mum replied “it was very much like the day that you gave me Meagan.”
“Meagan, what do you mean?”
“Well, I could tell that the special sprinkling in the garden had paid off when you called me to come into the cottage. That’s probably why I was smiling, all throughout it. I knew the moment that you ‘came’ inside me that I had gotten a child. The ritual of the watering can had worked. And we got Meagan out of the deal. How do you like that?”
Pappy liked it a lot. He retrieved Mums knickers and handed them to her. He suggested that she put them on right away so that nothing drips onto the linoleum. She slid them up her legs and, raising one hip at a time, got them all the way up. She got down by herself and put her shorts back on.
“I’m going back out to work in the garden.” She announced.
I’m going to sit right here, drink some tea and look at your arse for a while. Let’s see what else I can remember.