January, they worked in the garden together. Clear blue of sky and light soft wind in warming from the south, day was too beautiful not to.
She dressed in jeans fit and shaped to her legs and leather boots with pointed toes, a signature of her style and small detail that by him never went unnoticed.
They cleared the reside of season-before, not with yellow bags this year but with shovel spade—breaking soil and turning under, returning residue in regeneration of the earth.
In beginning, she wore a sweater that, in labor, she quickly rid and laid beside. Beneath, she wore a simple tank: shoulders that narrowed and bared her own along with all of arms, fit and tone, bright in the high sunlight. Cut of shirt’s collar fell low in U. Cotton’s thin, round hue of her nipples shadowed through. To the sight, more than once, she caught him in his gaze and, to, she smiled and laughed with a gaiety in know of his attraction and affinity. Unminding, enjoying, they labored and carried on.
They worked the more and as they went his greatest pleasure lived in seeing hers; lithe and float and move of her body in pleasure to the work, her eyes and face free of strain, skin’s smooth of serene, her spirit in its peace.
She reached for stalk on the earth, hips lower and knees bend and spread in way that swelled the full and buxom of her ass and showed in the stretch and tighten of her jeans.
She caught his eyes again and laughed as, with back of hand, she wiped away loose strands of hair blown over face in catch of the warming wind.
Gaze of her own eyes lingered smiling in to his, and he felt the hollow then low-pang warmth begin into its build.
Change in his gaze, or another she could sense or see, his heart started in to heavy beat as she laughed again—a different way—her eyes keeping still to his as a warming wind caught again stirring strands between their see.
He thought of her shirt stripped high and free, raise from waist and lift in path along her body’s sides; higher, higher, more revealed—more lovely in every inch. Rid from shoulder tops, its tossing to the side, as he grasped in hold her hands and wrists still high and overhead; brush tease of their naked highs graze and gentle pass upon as bodies soft-shifted, swayed, and sought; the play of her spirit—dart of her kiss, bite-nip to his lower lip, releasing, tongue’s flicker sense upon—coy and encouraging strong return.
His answer—strong pressed kiss, his tighten of hold to her hands and wrists as he did. Forward press and firm of her body tightly onto his—her answer. His move.
Release of holds, hands to low—to bottoms as done to tops. Their stepping free, open in all.
Dart-kiss again, her low-lip bite—encouraging again.
He forgot about the world, the garden.
Right then, all the world was her.