The Lawn

Whereas my first story post was my first attempt at erotic writing, this is one of my latest efforts and I have employed a little literary license, but hey, what’s life without a little suspension of disbelief?

On with the story….

Teresa sat in ‘her’ chair with the small bundle cradled in her arms. The sound of chat and plates being cleaned coming from the kitchen to the rear of the house. She looked down at the small pink face peeking out from the cocoon of blankets of her first great-grandchild. She knew that it would be the first of many and yet the only one she would ever see. Her gaze, as it always did, lifted to look out through the bay window at the snow covered front lawn. She whispered conspiratorially to the softly murmuring child, “I’ll tell you a secret, young one. A secret that I have shared with all of your aunts and uncles and your grandfather, God rest his soul. If it wasn’t for that patch of grass out there beneath the snow you probably wouldn’t be here.” Teresa smiled, the wrinkles about her eyes deepening as they misted up a little, “Of course, like you, none of them remember it…”



Teresa stood at the bay window looking out into the blazing sunshine. Even in the relative cool inside the house she could feel the oppressive heat of the midday sun trying to invade through the open front door. The busy ‘click-clack’ of John tapping on his keyboard from the small office they had created in the back of the house competed lamely with the heavy thumping coming from out front. She simultaneously cursed and blessed the fact that John had been working from home these past three days as she looked out onto the ‘new’ lawn.

There were three of them here today. The boss and owner of the landscape company was a friend of John’s, Sean Burns who spoke with a soft Irish accent which she found easy enough to understand and could listen to him for hours. After he had ‘taken off a drink’, as he put it, the words began to stream so thick and fast from his mouth that she rarely caught the first half of the first sentence but he had an infectious laugh that made her laugh with him even if she hadn’t got the punch-line of whatever joke he had been telling. A shock of white hair, which she had been told used to be the brightest red when he had been young, over the ruddy complexion of someone who had worked outdoors all their life, a cheeky smile always on his lips she had liked him from the very first shake of his hand. Looking at him now kneeling down on the freshly laid turf delicately placing new plants into the border she could easily have imagined falling for his charms completely when she had been single. Even now, at fifty plus years of age, his physique still looked powerful although he was carrying some extra weight around his middle and with his fair skin burning beneath the harsh rays of the sun, an even sheen of sweat covering his naked shoulders she reckoned he could have talked her out of her knickers when she had been eighteen.

The second of the crew was a man called Adam, in his mid-twenties, with a body that could easily grace a billboard or two. Also stripped to the waist he was wheeling heavy loads of gravel for the driveway. She didn’t care too much for Adam even if she admitted he was something of an Adonis. He walked and talked with an arrogance that she always found repellent and no matter how good he looked he only ever got a glance from her through the bay windows no matter how gleaming his sweat soaked bulging muscles were. She chewed lightly on her bottom lip at the sizable bulge in his shorts wondering if it was real or if the vain young man stuffed socks down there.

Her attention, as it had done for the past three days, came inevitably back to ‘the thumper’. He stood in the middle of the lawn lifting a pole with a heavy flat board attached to the bottom and dropping it forcefully down on to the freshly laid turf. A fine mist of sweat shook from his flesh with each impact. ‘Young Paul’, Sean’s son, the baby of his family or the ‘wee runt o’ the litter’ as he introduced him. He was almost eighteen years of age, half her own, and the object of her desire for the last three days.

She stood there in the bay window looking out through the net curtains at the young man. She watched intently as he lifted the thumper two feet of the ground, compact biceps tightening with the weight, before slamming it down on to the grass. She released her breath with each ‘thump’ as she watched the mist of sweat shimmer in the sunlight to fall slowly downwards. “Shuffle to the right…” she whispered as the teenager then moved to the adjacent sod. She smiled to herself at the fact that she and John had decided on having such a big lawn where most of the neighbours had gone for large two car drives. Paul’s physique was trim, with none of the showy muscles that Adam sported, and like his two co-workers he was also stripped to the waist standing in a pair of khaki ‘cargo’ shorts (soaked with sweat like the rest of his body) and steel toe-capped boots.

She lifted a finger to her mouth and chewed on a nail, something she hadn’t done since becoming a teenager, she worried the corner of the nail as the ‘thumper’ came down again and she felt its echoes seem to centre on her wet quim. She had no idea how long she had been spying on Paul, she was completely mesmerised by him, wondering what his sweat would taste like if she was to lick it from his tiny nipples. How would his hands, they must be hard and calloused from the wooden pole of the thumper, feel sliding over her flesh. ‘Thump’ and another quiver emanated from between her thighs. Her eyes wandered down his chest, almost devoid of any hair and over his flat stomach to the dark material of his shorts. Her eyes lingered there as the thumper sailed past to slam into the grass once again and initiate the Pavlovian response of her slit. Her eyes remained fixed on his crotch wondering how big his cock was as he moved once again to the right. She marvelled at the fact he was only seventeen and almost painfully shy. Down came the thumper once again as she imagined his hard young cock slamming into her rapidly moistening pussy.

Paul stepped forward to begin repeating the process along the next line of turf, getting steadily closer to the hidden woman behind the bay window. Teresa’s eyes continued to roam over the young man’s body drinking in every detail aware that her panties, fresh on from her shower less than twenty minutes before, were drenched with her the cream from her quim. Her nipples were as granite and yet incredibly sensitive as she turned slightly to watch him, feeling the light cotton of her dress drag across them. Her own sweat prickled icily as it formed in the valley between her breasts. Each breath seemed to be laboured as Paul began once again to raise and slam down the thumper. Her fingers twitched at her sides wanting to move to her crotch. She knew the slightest touch to her labia, let alone her clit, would send her over the edge.

‘Thump’ her nipples ached. ‘Thump’ her clit throbbed. ‘Thump’ her pussy clenched. ‘Thump’ her labia quivered. ‘……’ nothing! Although she had been still staring at the young man she’d failed to notice he hadn’t lifted the thumper but had twisted about his hips in answer to a call from his father. Paul turned back and left the thumper standing idly on the grass and walked towards the front door. Teresa stood there just behind the bay window, less than five steps away from the open front door. Paul was less than twenty steps away as he rolled his shoulders and arms working the knots from his muscles. She willed her feet to move but they wouldn’t. Sixteen steps! She knew what the rabbit in the headlights felt like. Twelve steps! “Move, goddamn you, move” she whispered at her immobile legs. Eight steps! All at once her pussy spasmed and released a gush of juices, soaking her panties and running down her legs. She stumbled as her paralysis was cured by her sudden orgasm. She heaved air deep into her lungs and fell to the side landing in the chair beside the window. She was actually gasping as she saw Paul disappear from view. All rational though froze within her as she sat trembling waiting for him to step into the room.

“Hello….? Mr Limbach…? Mrs Limbach…?” he called from the front door. She fought to bring herself under control as she saw his shadow flow across the wall beside the door. Still he didn’t appear as Teresa began to gain some sense. The shadow shifted but Paul remained out of sight. Her heart and lungs were beginning to obey her wishes as she realised he must be taking off his boots. Her trembling fingers straightened her dress and then grasped the arms of the chair just as the young man stepped into the room barefooted. “Ohh… hi Mrs Limbach… I… err…”

He was painfully shy Teresa thought. “For the final time, Paul, will you please call me Teresa?” She could hear tremors in her own voice and wondered if the seventeen year old could hear them too.

“Yes, Mrs…” he gulped audibly, “…Teresa, sorry to bother you but we were wondering could we get a drink?” he spoke with a confused accent that with its obvious Irish influence was very easy to listen too.

“Certainly, Paul, What would you like?” she shifted forwards in the chair still gripping the armrests, unsure if her legs would take her weight when she stood up.

“Oh me n’ Adam would be happy with some water…err… ice if you have it? Da, would like a cup o’ tea.” She smiled at the pronunciation of the word, ‘tay’ was how it sounded and if she hadn’t known Sean for over five years she would have asked his son to repeat it. She was tempted to anyway, partly to delay her rising from the chair and partly so she could continue to openly look at the barely dressed, sweaty teenager and to listen to his very soft lilt.

Paul shuffled nervously on his bare feet and as Teresa rose she tilted her head forwards so he wouldn’t see the smirk on her face as she thought about his shoe size. She led him towards the back of the house passing the open door where Johnny was tapping frustratingly at his keyboard. Paul followed behind and she couldn’t stop herself adding an extra wiggle to her backside just in case he was admiring it. Johnny loved her ass and at the moment she thought it was just about right, not too meaty and not too slim. Her slit gave a little quiver as she wondered how Paul’s rough hands would feel like on her soft cheeks.

In the kitchen Paul stood in the doorway, still shifting about on his large feet as she bent forwards to lift a pitcher of iced lemonade from the refrigerator. She felt herself blush as she wondered if there might be a damp patch visible on the back of her dress from when she had unceremoniously sat down a few seconds earlier. Her pussy let itself be known again as she hoped he was looking at her raised derriere. I’m an absolute hussy she thought to herself. She stood up holding the pitcher and twisted about her hips knowing that the cotton of her dress would stretch tight across her bosom and if Paul was to look at them he would see that her nipples were standing out like bullets. For a brief moment she wondered why she hadn’t bothered to put a bra on after her shower but she already knew the answer. I’m a slut!

The more she thought about it the more wanton she was feeling. A minor rebellion was waging in her head as her soaking pussy fought to overthrow her three decades of conformity. At this point she was sure that her nether regions were going to win. She almost physically shook herself from her reverie before asking “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a beer?”

Paul’s eyes rose to meet her smile, “Oh no Mrs Lim… Teresa… Lemonade is more than generous…” his cheeks coloured a deeper red beneath the dark tan they already sported.

“Would you mind if I was to lick the sweat from all over your body then, Paul?” For a split second she thought she had said the words out loud. Teresa quickly turned away, knocking the pitcher against the closing refrigerator door, almost dropping it, and moved towards the kitchen. She placed the lemonade down on the top and gripped the edge of the worktop, breathing deeply, before lifting the kettle and filling it with water. With her back to the source of her sweet torment she reached up and squeezed her right nipple hard. Her vagina contracted tightly and she felt a flood of juices pour out into her saturated knickers and down her thighs. For fuck’s sake, Paul, just take me now. Don’t let the decision be mine… please just fuck me… she prayed to herself.

“I’ll head back out, Mrs Limbach and… err… carry on with your lawn…if that’s okay?”

“Oh…okay… I’ll bring these out shortly” she answered as she heard him beat a hasty retreat. FUCK!

Teresa released a long sigh of relief. Her heart gradually began to slow as her more normal calm persona reasserted itself. Her pussy was still pulsing with every beat of her heart but had relinquished its dominating position of power over her rational thought. “My God, Teresa, were you really going to fuck a boy in the next room to your husband?” she muttered to herself. Ten years of marriage and although she had often looked at other men (and they were men, not teenagers barely out of short trousers), even fantasised occasionally on a slow afternoon she had never dreamt of being unfaithful. She couldn’t fathom the reason why she hadn’t touched herself in the last three days. Admiring the young man, feeling her physical reaction, was a bitter pleasure. The mercury in the thermometer on the kitchen wall had risen each day and so had her horniness. She had looked to attack Johnny the last two nights but he’d been having so many problems with his current contract and become distant as he mulled over the issues within his head. She knew sooner or later he would come to her and sound off possible solutions and quite often she would point out the pros and cons of each. After that point he would almost visibly change and return to his normal self. Having said that just after the gardening crew left she would be marching into his study and ‘raping’ him whether he liked it or not.

She looked down at her lap as she stood before the sink. “And what is it with you?” her pussy gave the tiniest of twitches as if in response to her question. She could feel a large patch of the insides of her thighs cooling beneath the patina of juices. She even spotted a shiny spot on the top of her foot between the leather straps of her Roman sandals. The kettle began to whistle beside her demanding attention.


She had managed to safely carry out the drinks for the three workmen. As she had chatted to Sean she had kept her eyes fixed on the work they had done only glancing up at Sean himself occasionally. She completely avoided even the merest glance at either of the two younger men. Even with her rational mind back in control the walk back into the house had been a sensual torment. She almost physically felt Adam’s eyes upon her and she knew that Paul was deliberately not looking at her which was oddly even more of an erotic torture.

She had gone straight up stares and lifted her dress off over her head leaving it lying on the bed as she headed into the bathroom. She slipped of her sodden lace panties as if she were defusing an unexploded bomb and dropped them into the wash basket, slamming down the lid as if they were capable of escaping. She stared at her pussy. Her outer lips were easily visible through the light brown curls of her bush, glistening with her cream, just begging for her to touch it. She was afraid. She wondered if she did touch it, would I be able to stop… Carefully she picked up a flannel, dampening it with warm water from the tap and wiped her thighs down meticulously avoiding her mound. When she was satisfied with her ablutions she walked back into bedroom and pulled fresh underwear from her drawer. She deliberately picked a practical pair of white cotton panties, large and unflattering, pulling them on tenderly. Even after a few seconds a faint line appeared above her slit. Determinedly she ignored it and lifted her dress from the bed, checking it first before any signs of her juices, before lifting it back over her head and letting it drop down over her body.

“You are in control, Teresa” she said to herself but vaguely suspected she was exaggerating if not lying to herself. Thump! “Oh fuck…” she whispered.


She managed to potter about the bedroom for twenty minutes before the beat of Paul’s work dragged her to the bedroom window. Her pussy was still pulsing to the young man’s rhythm. Nowhere near as intense as it had been thirty minutes previously but still trying to be insistent. It took her quim five more minutes to drag her back downstairs to stand once more behind the bay window. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal” she said to her unruly genitalia, “I’ll take you upstairs and frig you till you can’t come anymore but tomorrow we find some excuse not to be here ‘cause I just can’t cope with this.”

Her pussy pulsed physically in reply.

“Are you sure you really want to go upstairs?”

“Oh god Johnny…” Teresa’s pussy allowed another flood of juices to further soak the second pair of knickers that day knowing that there was now a penis in close proximity. Teresa smiled to herself, still looking out of the window as she felt her husband’s hands rest gently on her shoulders. He had always been able to appear silently behind her and after years of almost ‘jumping out of her skin’ some part of her subconscious now ignored the surprise and replaced it with joy each time he did it. She reached behind him with unsteady hands and placed them on his hips pulling him forwards till she felt his crotch press against her ass. She felt the lump of his cock within his trousers, somewhere between flaccid and hard. Pulling him harder against her she felt it stir. “I need you Johnny!”

She felt his nose press into her hair as he inhaled the apple scent of her shampoo. “So, my love, what has you so distracted that you are talking to yourself? Although it did seem like you were talking to some part of yourself in particular…”

“If only you knew…”

“You think I haven’t noticed how clumsy you have become over these past three days? Since the boys have been working outside…” his hand left her shoulder and waved indicating men outside before coming to rest just beneath her right breast. She sucked air deep into her lungs pressing her nails into his hips and slightly moving her cheeks against his growing manhood. “All hot and sweaty… not your normal preference, Teresa… So is it Sean that has you squirming? He has the… blarney; I think that’s the word.” Teresa shook her head, biting her bottom lip. Johnny’s left hand slid slowly down her arm dragging the shoulder of her dress down with it. Teresa jumped as she felt his warm lips brush across her exposed flesh. His mouth moved up along her neck as she tilted her head letting her hair fall away, his breath hot over her skin before he whispered into her ear. “I can see Adam turning a lot of heads… all those glistening muscles and what looks like a sizable packet in his pants… are you thinking of him?”

Teresa closed her eyes as she felt his lips fasten on to her earlobe and tug it gently, “…no…not him…” she whispered back.

“I didn’t think so… far too much of a peacock for you my love… which leaves us with the boy… barely out of diapers… probably a virgin with an untouched cock…”

Teresa opened her eyes and looked at Paul still ‘thumping the lawn, still sweating and possibly with a lump beneath his shorts where one hadn’t been before. She hoped he had an erection, she hoped that she had been the cause of it. “If that ‘boy’ is a virgin the girls around here need their heads examining…”

“What was it you used to say about boys like him?”

Teresa blushed, “I’d really tear that up!”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

Johnny’s hand dropped briefly from her arm and his crotch shifted back momentarily. When it pressed back into her buttocks she felt his cock hard and strong pressing into the cleft between her cheeks, she groaned bending her knees slightly shifting up and down against it. A steady trickle of juices were running out of her pussy as Johnny’s hand returned to slide up beneath her other breast. “So the young boy has you all hot and bothered… so hot that you haven’t bothered with a brassiere…” Both of his hands moved up cupping her breasts flattening her nipples into the soft flesh. Teresa groaned loudly as sparks of electricity emanated from her nipples in all directions throughout her body. Even her scalp seemed to prickle as Johnny’s palms shifted her nipples around. Most of course were arcing down to her pussy. The trickle of juices that had been flowing out of her seemed to become rivulets she could feel meandering down towards her knees. The delicate warm touch of her cream high up on her thighs changing to seem like an ice-cold knife etching a line into her flesh as it cooled spiralling around behind her knee. Her thigh muscles were quivering under the onslaught.

“Please… Johnny, please I beg you…” Teresa pleaded as she felt one of her fingernails catch and tear on the seam of his jeans. She barely noticed the small sharp tug of pain in amidst the multitude of sensations.

Johnny moved his head to the right of hers and grasped the material of her dress in his teeth pulling it clear of her shoulder. She vaguely heard the zip running up her back split from its stitching as he pressed his mouth into her hair over her ear. “You don’t want me, do you Teresa?” his hands were kneading her breasts, gathering the light cotton material of her dress, slowly pulling it down her chest.

“I…do…I… do…please…” she reached as far as she could to grasp Johnny’s bum pulling him hard against her own.

“Tell me the truth, Teresa… you just want a cock… don’t you?” his thumbs and fingers pinched her hard nipples. She threw her head back onto his shoulder as tiny explosions seemed to detonate within her.

“Oh…God…I want your cock, Johnny… I need your cock in me now…” she begged.

A louder rip issued from her dress and the material slipped down past her heaving bosom as Johnny pulled at it to bunch up around her waist held there by their bodies grinding against each other. “I don’t believe you Teresa…” Johnny’s own breath was becoming laboured as he humped against her cheeks, “any cock would do…wouldn’t it… any cock… especially young Paul’s out there…” Teresa grunted and groaned as Johnny’s fingers kneaded and pinched the flesh off her breasts, coming close to but not touching her nipples. Another ripple of detonations engulfed her being. “Tell me, Teresa” Johnny demanded with iron in his voice.

“Oh… fuck…yes…Johnny I need cock…your cock…Paul’s cock… I just need fucking cock in my cunt now please…” she released her husband’s ass and tore at the dress rucked around her waist, wanting to pull it away but not wanting to break contact with the hard length still shifting up and down against her ass. Johnny hands left her breasts and she heard him rip his shirt from his torso, the buttons bouncing of her back. Her pussy was quivering as wave after wave of heat radiated out from it. The feelings were more intense than she had ever felt before but she knew there was more. She needed to be filled; she needed to be fucked more than she had needed anything ever. She leant, almost fell, forwards reaching out for the window sill pushing her ass harder against Johnny’s crotch. “For God’s sake stick that fucking cock in me, you bastard!” she reached back beneath her grabbed the soaking material of her ‘practical’ panties and ripped them from her body. The seam dragged hard across her hip leaving a friction burn as she felt Johnny break contact with her for the first time since he had sneaked up behind her.

She stared out at Paul still methodically ‘thumping’ the lawn, watching as the pole came down, imagining it was his cock slamming into her slit. She felt Johnny’s hands grip her hips tightly and pushed her ass back to meet him. For a moment there were just his hands and no cock. She was about to curse, her eyes still focused on the teenager outside raising the ‘thumper’ into the air; “please” she whispered. The ‘thumper’ sailed downwards as she felt Johnny’s cock drive into her. In almost perfect unison the ‘thumper’ hit the turf as the head of Johnny’s cock slammed into the cervix.

The world exploded.

Her legs gave out completely and she almost fell away until Johnny shifted his hands and held her beneath her hips, holding her up letting her limp legs hang uselessly below. She opened her mouth to scream but there was no air in her lungs. The three men working outside lost focus, even Paul who she was still staring at as he raised the ‘thumper’ once again, was lost in a constellation of bright sparks littering her vision. Her arms shook visibly beneath her as she felt Johnny slowly withdraw his hard cock, her juices pouring out with it. Paul raised the heavy tool to its zenith. Johnny’s cock hovered at the mouth of her shuddering slit. Down came the ‘thumper’. ‘Bang’ went her cunt as it was filled once again.

The world went black.

Teresa’s arms had given way and her head seemed to fall slowly to land on her arms atop the sill. Every single nerve ending in her body was shouting at her mind for attention. Of course her pussy was screaming the loudest. It seemed to be protesting as her husband’s cock slowly withdrew once more. Tears were pouring down her cheeks and onto her forearms as her entire body shivered. Johnny’s cock was poised once again. As it drove hard and fast into her she felt as if her vagina was bigger than she herself was and Johnny’s cock filled it completely touching every part atom within her. Once again it hammered into her cervix and she thought her mind would blister as she heard the soft ‘thump’ from beyond the window.

The world burst into a brilliant light.

Johnny’s cock remained still, filling her totally. She forced her eyes open to stare through her tears at Paul outside. He was resting against the pole of the thumper looking straight at the bay window.

“Do you think he can see us, Teresa?”

She had lost the power of speech and let her trembling pussy reply.

“I don’t think he can…but maybe he saw the lace curtains move” Johnny twitched his cock within her causing her to gasp, “maybe he’ll come investigate; the front door is standing open…” A little strength returned to Teresa’s legs and she pushed her ass backwards. “…mmmm… what would you do Teresa? Do you want him to come in…? Do you want him to see you like this, a cock buried in your dripping pussy?”

“Yes…” she whispered hoarsely.

“Would you pull his cock out, would you wrap your hand about it…? Would you suck it into your mouth?”

“Oh fuck yes, yes, yes…” a minor quake rippled from her burning pussy in response.

“Do you want me to call him?” Johnny asked. Teresa turned her head, looking up at her husband trying to decipher his expression. He kept his face neutral although his chest heaved and his fingers gripped her hips harder.

“I… I don’t know…yes… no…yes…”

“Do you want Paul to fuck you, to fill your womb with his seed on top of mine?”

“…yes…” she whispered. Johnny’s eyes flicked away from her own and out through the window.

“…ahh…fuck…” Johnny began to pump into Teresa’s pussy remorselessly. “…he’s coming anyway…”

Teresa looked up through the window to see Paul walking up towards the front door. Her slit pulsed and clamped rapidly about Johnny’s cock as she stared in horror and desire at the approaching teenager. Her orgasm blasted through her as her eyes locked onto the nearing sweat soaked shorts. She could see no obvious sign of an erection within and simultaneously wished, hoped there was and there wasn’t. Once again Paul disappeared from view and her eyes turned to the doorway. Paul’s shadow appeared as she bit down on her own arm stifling her scream. She felt Johnny’s cock shudder within her and would swear she felt his hot sperm filling her cunt as the silhouette paused and then shrunk.

Lightning once again played across her vision as every square inch of her body broke out in a cold sweat. Johnny’s fingers dug painfully into her flesh as he grunted through gritted teeth behind her.

“Fuck!” she uttered just once as her orgasm peaked and flash fire spread throughout her being.

Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned her head to look once more out through the window. Paul was striding across the grass with two glasses of lemonade in his hand. Somehow some part of her mind noted that all of the ice had melted.


After several minutes Johnny had picked her limp body up and carried her up to the bedroom. She had quickly fallen into a deep sleep lying naked and spent on top of the bedspread. When she had awoke the light outside the window had faded somewhat and a glass and a pitcher of water, tiny lumps of ice floating at the surface, refracted the rays of the falling sun into a rainbow across her face. She felt Johnny lying behind, an arm draped across her chest. Her pussy was still wet and a little tender. She twisted about to see her love sleeping; feeling his cock, semi-hard, brush her hip. Silently she slipped from beneath his arm and took a long refreshing drink of cold water. She looked at Johnny’s cock. She took a mouthful of cold water into her mouth and shifted down the bed….

…. it was long slow and gentle love-making that drew her and her husband back to sleep as the sun finally set below the horizon.


The weather the next day was nowhere near as hot as it had been. Teresa had not found some excuse to be elsewhere. Shirts had remained on and the lawn had been finally thumped into submission. Paul still looked cute to Teresa but somehow he was no longer as irresistible. Of course Teresa had dragged Johnny up to bed three times in the course of the day despite his protestations that he had needed to get on with his work. He hadn’t put up too much of a fight!


It was almost two months later, autumn was trying to take hold and the trees were a myriad of colours as Teresa went to her doctor ‘feeling not quite right’. When Johnny had got home and she had told him the news he had collapsed into ‘her’ chair almost breaking it.

The following summer a very proud Sean Burns played Godfather to baby Paul. The child that the Limbach’s had been told a decade before that they would never have.



She heard the distant seeming voice once again. “Teresa? Teresa, are you okay?” she shook herself and dragged her eyes away from the snow covered garden. Jane was standing beside her with a look of concern on her face. She gazed up at the young woman who looked extremely ‘well’ considering she had only delivered the bundle in her arms a week before. For a moment she wondered if the concern was for herself or for the new-born infant being held by a ‘senile old bat’. Jane was the only one who didn’t call her Grandma or Great-grandma or some variation. She actually liked Jane very much but felt that the feelings weren’t reciprocated.

“I’m fine Jane… I was just reminiscing…”

Jane’s look softened and softened further as she looked down at her child. Teresa was glad that the new mother didn’t immediately take the infant from her arms. “How do you do that Teresa?”

“Do what?”

“Get a baby to sleep so soundly?” Jane moved to sit on the edge of the chair beside Teresa, leaning forward still staring at her child but seemingly afraid to touch in case she broke the apparent spell of slumber. Teresa went to lean forward, a tiny spark of pain in her lower back warned her to refrain for fear of worse. Very gently she rested back into her chair. Jane had spotted the movement, “Are you okay? Is your back giving you problems? Do you want me to take her?”

Teresa shook her head. “Don’t worry Jane, I’m fine. I just have to give my back more warning these days before moving after sitting for any amount of time.” Teresa shifted her hand slightly beneath the child’s rump before continuing “And the little one is keeping me nice and warm.”

“Does she need changing?” fretted Jane.

“No, I’m sure she doesn’t at the moment, but I’ll let you know if and when” the small child murmured as if in reply. Jane shook her head at the how content her child seemed especially compared to the last seven days. “Do you want to know my secret, then?”

Jane nodded “Very much”

Teresa chuckled, “I don’t have one. I was as stressed with my own child as I imagine you are with this one. And that might be it… I get to give this one back and perhaps she senses that I’m not worried so neither is she… Truth be told, my Paul, barely slept for the first six months. Our little miracle was absolute hell to start with!”

“So your legendry powers with the Limbach clan are all a sham?” Jane asked with a grin.

“I’m afraid so, I am just an old fraud”

“I’ll keep your secret safe…” Jane leant back in her chair relaxing visibly and looking outside at the tranquil scene, “… grandma.”

“Oh don’t bother with that, Jane. I’ve always liked the fact you use my name.”

Jane looked at her quizzically. “I… I never thought you liked me…”

Teresa shook her head, “Not at all… do you want to know another secret?” Jane nodded in response. Teresa looked to the rear of the house before turning back to her, “It’s your husband I don’t much care for!”

“TERESA! …Teresa, your own grandson?”

“Shhh… I’m stumped if I know what you see in him”

Jane laughed loudly and then quietened to a chuckle as her child stirred. The murmur of chat from the kitchen had silenced and Joe, her husband stuck his head out of the door. “Everything okay Jane? Grandma?” he asked.

Jane shared a conspiratorial grin with the old woman, “All is good and proper with the world, Hun… we’re… just discussing names” a look of puzzlement passed over his features before he nodded and withdrew.

“Joe’s a good man. I know he seems to keep himself distant, maybe even aloof but he’s really quite warm and loving… he might keep it hidden a little too well though”

Teresa grinned, “I don’t doubt it, Johnny could be the same at times” she felt her eyes moisten a touch at the thought of her late husband. “Maybe between you and this one you can get him to… open up a little?”

“Maybe…” answered Jane. “Talking of distant, where were you when I came in?”

“Ohhh…” Teresa turned to look out of the window once more, “I was miles… years ago, remembering this one’s Great-grandfather… and he was a pretty, great fuck too.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper.

Jane raised her eyebrows; the whisper had obviously not been as quiet as Teresa had thought. “Grandma!” she exclaimed. Teresa felt her cheeks heat up as for the first time in years she blushed. She couldn’t help but grin back at Jane’s faked look of shock. She turned back to the window still grinning as she thought of that hot summer’s day so many years ago. Teresa had also just noticed something else. Something that she hadn’t been conscious off but had obviously been there since Jane had shaken her from her reverie. Something, that hadn’t happened in far too many years, at least since Johnny had died.

She was ninety-seven years of age and her pussy was wet.

“I guess you’re going to be about a lot this summer, Jane?”

“I am now… going to be making as much use of your fake baby sleeping talents as possible!”

“Good. Cause I think, my last summer…” Jane noted how Teresa stated it as a fact but didn’t comment, “and it’s about time I had the garden re-done. I’m gonna need someone to help look after the workmen; I’m just not as… lithe… as I used to be. Who knows I may tell you the family secret that I just told to this one.”



Jane grinned. “That’s her name…Teresa Jane Limbach!”

Older Teresa’s eyes filled with tears as she looked down at the baby girl still sleeping quietly in her arms, “When… when did you decide on that?”

“Probably about four minutes ago… so this family secret… you’ve told it to all of the Limbach’s… when they were babies?” Teresa nodded, “So, I help you out with your gardeners and you might tell me what you only ever tell to new-borns?”

“I’m thinking I’ll probably tell you anyway but if I can get you to handle ‘Burn’s Landscape Gardeners’, I think there boss is called Paul…it’d be a bonus. What do you say?”

The End

~ by ftfagos on February 14, 2011.

One Response to “The Lawn”

  1. I’ve been trying to think of something I can say about this story… but my mind keeps coming up blank. I love the picture you paint of the elderly woman speaking of secrets to the child… there is just something so pure and confessing like… then the bonding of the child’s mother to the grandmother…

    Your words never cease to bring wonder to all those who read them…

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