Some alone time in the garden shed xxxxxx
This wasn’t planned. I wasn’t daydreaming about it for days. It just happened, and now I can’t quite believe I’m writing it down.
—
The house was quiet in that pale, soft way only early mornings are. My boyfriend was still asleep upstairs, his breathing slow and steady. I wandered barefoot into the kitchen, not looking for anything in particular, until I opened the fridge and my eyes fell to the salad drawer.
A cucumber.
Long. Heavy. Cool to the touch.
The thought came from nowhere, but once it landed, I couldn’t shake it.
I rinsed it under the tap, wrapped it in a tea towel, and slipped quietly out the back door. The grass was cool and damp, each step soaking my toes as I crossed to the shed.
Inside, it smelled of grass clippings, earth, and oil. Bikes leaned together, garden tools lined the wall, and in the corner sat the push mower with its handle folded down. Morning light streamed through the small uncovered window, striping the air with gold.
I perched on the low mower seat, the metal frame cold under my legs. Unwrapping the cucumber, I ran my fingers along its smooth surface, feeling its weight. It was bigger than I’d expected. Much bigger than him.
Without thinking, I lifted it to my lips. Just the tip at first, tasting faintly of water and earth. My mouth closed around it, slow, drawing it in just enough to feel the contrast of cold and warmth. I pulled it away again, slightly damp now, my heart thudding at the sheer oddness — and thrill — of what I was doing.
I stood just enough to push my jeans down, the cramped space making every movement awkward. My panties came down too, pooling at my ankles. I sat back on the mower, feeling the air on my bare skin, aware of that little window above me. I told myself no one could see, but the possibility made my pulse quicken.
I guided the cucumber down, taking my time. The first touch made me draw in a breath. It wasn’t easy — I had to work with it, small movements, letting myself adjust bit by bit. Every pause made the anticipation worse, or better, I couldn’t decide.
It took time. The world outside was still and quiet, the smell of cut grass heavy in the air. Inside the shed, every shift forward made me feel fuller, my body tighter, my breaths shorter. The strangeness of it — the size, the place, the fact that I was doing this at all — made my chest feel light and my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.
Somewhere between a pause and a push, the moment tipped. My hips lifted without thinking, my hands gripping tighter, and a rush spread through me so quickly I couldn’t breathe. I stayed there, holding still as it washed through, shaking quietly in the early light.
When it was over, I slumped back, breathing in short, shaky bursts. My thighs were trembling, my fingers still wrapped around the cucumber.
That’s when I noticed it — the damp heaviness of my jeans pooled around my ankles, warm against my skin. The realisation made my face flush hotter. I shifted, feeling the cling of fabric, the weight of what I’d just done settling over me.
It took longer than it should have to pull them back up. The wet denim gripped my skin, catching on my thighs as I wriggled them into place. By the time I managed it, my pulse still hadn’t settled.
I didn’t know if I felt proud or reckless. Only that I’d remember the way the shed smelled, the way the light hit my thighs, and how strangely alive I’d felt, for a very long time.
🔞 Candy.AI 🔥 AI Sex Chat – Roleplay, Erotic Stories, Try for Free 🕹️