1. A Bunny In The Garden


    Date: 5/23/2016, Categories: Fetish, Author: ChrissieLecker, Rating: 18, Source: LushStories

    “Hi, Mrs. Greenberg, I’m Allie, I’m here to do the weeding!” I smiled brightly at the tall, gray-haired woman in the dark blue gown that opened the door to the mansion. The way she looked me up and down spoke volumes, and when her eyebrow went up and she declared in a rather posh voice, “I expected someone… different, I was rather pleased with Pablo’s work,” I readied myself for a taxing day. “I know I’m not Pablo, but he left me instructions what I need to do.” I held up my laptop to make my point, though I didn’t tell her that Pablo’s notes had been nothing more than three lines on a post-it. “Weeding. No cutting the box trees. Compost behind shed.” Nobody questioned a gardener carrying a laptop to work nowadays. Which made gardening the perfect job. I was usually unsupervised, I could take breaks quite often - you can’t keep digging or weeding for hours without taking a breather - which allowed me to indulge my secret side and access these lovely, naughty chat rooms and story websites. I couldn’t help it, really. I was a horny girl and needed my outlet. After I was thrown out of university for gross misconduct - which, in simpler words, meant getting caught in the faculty room with my professor’s cock in my mouth - I tried a few jobs, but I simply couldn’t resist temptation. I made it a week as an office clerk until the IT department confronted me with the porn pics I had downloaded at work. I managed almost three weeks as a waitress before a stint with a customer in ...
    a toilet stall ended my spectacular career. My face still flushes in shame when I think back to my first and only day selling lingerie, which ended through lunch break when Amanda, the store owner, found me in a changing stall with a hand inside my panties - inside a very delicate and perversely expensive pair of panties from the display window, to be precise. “Very well,” Mrs. Greenberg grumbled, “you can go around the house. The tools are in the shed. Make sure you don’t carry dirt onto the veranda, and wait for me to return before you pack up. I’ll be home around four.” “Sure, Mrs. Greenberg.” I sent her another dishonest smile and trudged around the huge house. The garden was lavish, and I groaned silently when I spotted all the weeds sticking out in the flower beds and under the hedges after a month of neglect due to Pablo’s sudden cancellation. Toby, one of my co-workers, had told me in a hushed voice that him going back to Mexico hadn’t been all that voluntary. But that was hardly my problem. I set up my laptop on the sturdy oak wood table in the middle of the garden and noticed with relief that it found wireless connection. After starting downloading a number of stories I had bookmarked the day before, I went to the shed and giggled. Less wealthy people would have called it a house in its own, and it contained just about every type of gardening tool in existence. Armed with gloves, a small rake and a jute bag for the weeds, I started my work. Weeding was one of my ...
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