The Varney’s lived in the small country village of
Mornington-By-Mere in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient
Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
Which was a quaint picturesque village, a
proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century
Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River and a
Mere.
He lived and worked up at Mornington Field which had once been an RAF
base but had been converted into a mixture of commercial and residential units.
They lived in one of the Cottages in Dulcet Mill Lane, number 5, in the part of the Village known
as Manorside and they had lived there together all of their married
life.
70 year old George was employed at the Mornington Brewery before he
retired while his wife Tracey was a stay at home mum, raising their six children.
They were obviously all grown up now and most of them had children of
their own and were now in every corner of Downshire.
There youngest was Harry who was
a civil engineer and he had been working away in Oman for six months and had
returned to the UK to catch his breath and recharge his batteries before he
returned to Muscat for his next 6 month stint away.
His home was in Abbottsford which at the time was
having some major renovations doing to it so it wasn’t the most conducive
location for rest and recuperation so he planned to stay at his parents’ house
while they were away in Portugal for a couple of weeks so he would have the
house to himself which was perfect for what he had in mind which was nothing.
He was completely knackered and was understandably
looking forward to a good few days of doing nothing very much at all before his
friends realised he was back in Downshire and an endless round of frenetic
activity of sports bars and long boozy lunches, clubbing and the pursuit of
gratuitous sex began.
But everyone knows the saying about the “best
laid plans”, they are absolutely pointless when fate takes a hand.
Things began to go wrong at the break of day
on his first night in Mornington, when a crack of thunder almost blew him out
of bed, and then the storm rumbled round for hours after that, making sleep
nearly impossible, he would just drift off into slumber and then CRASH and he
was wide awake again, then things would calm down and he would begin to dose
and then CRASH and his eyes were wide open once more.
He gave up after the 9th or 10th
time and got up and went downstairs for coffee.
The storm raged on for another hour or so but
when it finally petered out he decided not to go back to bed and pottered
around the house instead, spending the first few hours of his well-earned
respite doing housework.
He had been home for less than 24hrs and couldn’t
believe how much mess he had made.
About midmorning the sun came out so he
thought he might as well take a walk down to the Old Mill, from where he could
make his presence known to his friends, so Harry went upstairs to shower and
shave.
He arrived back downstairs after his shower
and had just picked up his keys when something in the garden caught his eye,
just on the edge of the patio and the something was bent over a
wheelbarrow.
“Very nice” he said to himself as he took
advantage of the view up her skirt.
“Oh very nice indeed” he said as to his
absolute delight she reached for something at the other end of the barrow and
in an effort to prevent herself overbalancing her left leg shot out sideways
and the resulting rearrangement of her buttocks caused her left cheek to become
completely exposed as the knicker leg rolled between her fleshy cheeks so he
put his keys down on the table and sat in the conservatory to get a better
look.
To his enjoyment the girl stayed bent over the
barrow for a minute or so with one naked buttock on show and then she stood up
and after ungloving her hand she lifted her skirt and slowly extracted her
knickers from her bum.
When she was stood up he could see she was
quite tall with long chestnut hair but other than that there was no clue as to
her identity.
It wasn’t anyone he knew, he was certain of
that.
The mystery gardener then walked to the side
of the wheelbarrow and leant over it again, this time presenting him with a side
view of her.
The thick chestnut hair obscured her face but
then he wasn’t really looking at her face as her rather large frontage fell
forward and filled her top and offered him a tantalizing taster through the armhole
of her vest top.
He thought for a moment that apart from her
work boots, socks and gloves, the rest of her apparel wasn’t really vocation
appropriate, a vest top, short skirt and impractical underwear, not that he was
complaining, he was just enjoying the show.
Which was far more enticing than any floor
show his mates might have dragged him to.
He stared at every inch of the horny gardener
except for her face but he was beginning not to care about that, which was the
point that she stood up and turned towards him and smiled and he did know her,
it was Verity Lamb, his first ever girlfriend, not that she had looked as she
did at that precise moment back then, when they were at school together twenty
years earlier.
He stood up and opened the door and walked
toward her.
“Hi Verity” he said “what are you doing here?”
“This is what I do” she replied “I’m a
gardener by profession”
“You’re not dressed like a professional
gardener” he retorted
“It’s my day off”
“What?” he asked rather confusedly
“Your mum told me you were going to be home
alone while they were away” she said as she walked towards him
“So, I thought I’d come round and get you
interested in the gardener”
Harry said nothing but swallowed hard and then
Verity added
“I’m thinking I succeeded”
“Definitely” he replied
“Well, are you going to invite me in?” she
said and kissed him “or do I have to do all the work”
“Well put like that” he said “come in”
And led her by the hand inside and there they
stayed as he spent the first three days of his R&R with the buxom gardener
doing everything but rest and relax.
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