food and they blossomed and grew. You take care of them and they provide you with lots of beauty and satisfaction. Yeah. Easier.
Much easier.
Dylan, Dave and Libby’s parents died a while ago, and the family business was now being run by Libby and Dave…and me. After all, I was still a McAdams. I dug in, so to speak, plant talk, and got busy right away. The acres behind the greenhouses were filled with crops of corn, tomatoes, peppers, artichokes…well you get the picture. There was so much to be picked and sold at our roadside stand. I could tell there was a lot to be done. It seemed since Dylan’s death, things around here kind of got put on the back burner. It was obvious the work had slowed down. I wanted to make him proud of me, and set about tackling one greenhouse at a time.
When I got home that night I was exhausted, but it was the good kind of exhausted. I took a hot shower and climbed into bed. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
“Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you do that thing you do?”
I smiled. I was pretty sure I knew what he was referring to, but I was going to make him say it.
“What thing is that exactly?”
“You know.”
“No. I do a lot of things. Which ‘thing’ are you referring to?”
“The one where you put your mouth…”
I blushed. Yes, I still blush, but quickly recovered.
“Oh that thing.” I smiled.
Before he could ask again I scooted down to the end of the sofa and unzipped his jeans. He was musky from working out in the sun all day, but it was sexy. You know? It was sexy. It was Dylan and I’d take him any way I could get him.
He quickly stopped me from lowering his jeans, but moaned. I felt his erection under my fingers.
“Why are you stopping me?”
“I need to shower for that ‘thing’”
“Then what ‘thing’ did you mean exactly?”
“The thing where you lay on top of me and let me hold you close.”
“Oh, that thing.” I was as confused as you are now. I crawled back up his muscular body and lay my body over his. He crushed me to him with his strong arms and I sighed. I felt him kiss the top of my head and inhale deeply.
“Love the way you smell.”
“Good.”
He squeezed me.
“Love the way you feel.”
“Mmmm.” I was liking this.
“Love the way you feel against me.”
“Me too.”
I listened to his chest and heard his heart beat quicken. But not soon enough…and I wasn’t prepared. In one smooth move, he stood up, tossed me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes, and walked with me squirming into the bedroom, then through to the bathroom. He leaned inside and turned the water on. All the while I’m flailing and yelling. Then he carried me, fully dressed—so was he—into our large shower and let the water cascade over both of us. I screamed then laughed so loud I was afraid I woke the dead.
“Dylan!”
He laughed, as only he could, and believe me, it was contagious.
“Oh, you!” I cried out in feigned indignity.
“You got me thinking.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Bout what?”
“Bout your offer.”
“What offer…” Oh, I got it. “And you thought you’d bring me in the shower with you so I can do what I offered.”
“Figured I’d kill two birds.”
“Oh, and how did you figure that?”
“I figured I’d help you with the laundry too.”
He kneeled on the shower floor and unzipped my jeans. Then with my squirming and his tugging we managed to remove my pants. Quickly followed by my panties. He lifted my tee shirt over my head and dropped it, while I unhooked my bra and let it fall wherever it did.
His jeans. Well, that was a whole ‘nother story. He was so hard I couldn’t lower the zipper without his help. But I’m happy to report, he was very helpful with that.
A pile of clothing lay on the floor at our feet and he pulled me to him. Our bodies melded into one. He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered us up. I stood on my tip-toes and delivered the mother of
Much easier.
Dylan, Dave and Libby’s parents died a while ago, and the family business was now being run by Libby and Dave…and me. After all, I was still a McAdams. I dug in, so to speak, plant talk, and got busy right away. The acres behind the greenhouses were filled with crops of corn, tomatoes, peppers, artichokes…well you get the picture. There was so much to be picked and sold at our roadside stand. I could tell there was a lot to be done. It seemed since Dylan’s death, things around here kind of got put on the back burner. It was obvious the work had slowed down. I wanted to make him proud of me, and set about tackling one greenhouse at a time.
When I got home that night I was exhausted, but it was the good kind of exhausted. I took a hot shower and climbed into bed. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
“Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you do that thing you do?”
I smiled. I was pretty sure I knew what he was referring to, but I was going to make him say it.
“What thing is that exactly?”
“You know.”
“No. I do a lot of things. Which ‘thing’ are you referring to?”
“The one where you put your mouth…”
I blushed. Yes, I still blush, but quickly recovered.
“Oh that thing.” I smiled.
Before he could ask again I scooted down to the end of the sofa and unzipped his jeans. He was musky from working out in the sun all day, but it was sexy. You know? It was sexy. It was Dylan and I’d take him any way I could get him.
He quickly stopped me from lowering his jeans, but moaned. I felt his erection under my fingers.
“Why are you stopping me?”
“I need to shower for that ‘thing’”
“Then what ‘thing’ did you mean exactly?”
“The thing where you lay on top of me and let me hold you close.”
“Oh, that thing.” I was as confused as you are now. I crawled back up his muscular body and lay my body over his. He crushed me to him with his strong arms and I sighed. I felt him kiss the top of my head and inhale deeply.
“Love the way you smell.”
“Good.”
He squeezed me.
“Love the way you feel.”
“Mmmm.” I was liking this.
“Love the way you feel against me.”
“Me too.”
I listened to his chest and heard his heart beat quicken. But not soon enough…and I wasn’t prepared. In one smooth move, he stood up, tossed me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes, and walked with me squirming into the bedroom, then through to the bathroom. He leaned inside and turned the water on. All the while I’m flailing and yelling. Then he carried me, fully dressed—so was he—into our large shower and let the water cascade over both of us. I screamed then laughed so loud I was afraid I woke the dead.
“Dylan!”
He laughed, as only he could, and believe me, it was contagious.
“Oh, you!” I cried out in feigned indignity.
“You got me thinking.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Bout what?”
“Bout your offer.”
“What offer…” Oh, I got it. “And you thought you’d bring me in the shower with you so I can do what I offered.”
“Figured I’d kill two birds.”
“Oh, and how did you figure that?”
“I figured I’d help you with the laundry too.”
He kneeled on the shower floor and unzipped my jeans. Then with my squirming and his tugging we managed to remove my pants. Quickly followed by my panties. He lifted my tee shirt over my head and dropped it, while I unhooked my bra and let it fall wherever it did.
His jeans. Well, that was a whole ‘nother story. He was so hard I couldn’t lower the zipper without his help. But I’m happy to report, he was very helpful with that.
A pile of clothing lay on the floor at our feet and he pulled me to him. Our bodies melded into one. He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered us up. I stood on my tip-toes and delivered the mother of
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