Descent into Depravity – Chapter 3.1

Latest erotic coupling stories: Descent into Depravity – Chapter 3.1

Author: Bluepen451

In prior chapters Alice has discovered that masturbation and an obsession with her late husband’s porn collection has helped her recover from depression arising from his death. Now she begins to experiment with exhibitionism and voyeurism.

So that was my life for the next few months, until school broke for the summer—teaching English to the 7th graders, or at least trying to, strutting around the house naked or nearly naked, enjoying my late husband Larry’s porn collection and the erotic writings he had posted on Literotica, and having an occasional dinner with my friend, Joan, and her lecherous husband, Hervé (I enjoyed his continuous flirting, and Joan didn’t seem to mind, or at least she had grown to accept it).

Oh and masturbation. Did I mention masturbation. I masturbated a lot—mostly as I watched Larry’s porn collection or read his stories, but sometimes in my secluded back yard, and several times in a wooded copse in the park halfway through a five-mile run. I found the outside masturbation to be very exciting. I was always terrified of being seen, so I couldn’t drag it out like I did at home, but the excitement from the risk of being caught made the climax great. I guess I was a bit of a would-be-exhibitionist.

I also worked up my courage to go to a porn shop and buy myself some sex toys—really there were things out there that were better than a cucumber. My visits to the porn shop were almost as exciting as masturbating in the park. What if I met someone I knew there? I told myself that they would have to be just as embarrassed as me because they were almost certainly there for more or less the same reason as me, but somehow that rationalization didn’t quite make my fears go away. Actually it was just as well. I loved the excitement of going to the porn shop. I even took to not wearing underclothes when I went there, like I did on my trips to the grocery store. It was delicious.

Then summer came and things changed a bit. I had a lot more time on my hands. I took a part-time job teaching remedial English to high school seniors who needed it to graduate. Wow, was that an experience. They made the 7th graders I had been teaching look like geniuses, but more on that experience later.

It was only three classes a week so I had a lot more free time. I increased my running to daily, and I decided to spend some time trying to clean up the tangled mess of plants in my back yard. Much of the yard was lawn, and Larry had always kept that up reasonably well. I taught myself to use the mower and other tools he used. A couple of times I had been tempted to try mowing the back yard in the nude, but I hadn’t worked up my courage. I settled for short shorts and a t-shirt with no bra or a bikini top for mowing and other work in the front yard and a bit less in the back yard.

But the bushes planted against the house and the fence were an overgrown and tangled mess. There was also a pergola in one corner of the yard. I remembered how nice it had been when we first moved in. There were three or four steps leading up to a raised deck and a hammock slung between two of the roof posts on the side near the fence. But over the years the hammock had rotted when we failed to take it down for winter, and an avaricious rose bush had taken over the whole structure.

The first thing I did was bring a landscaping crew in and have everything cut back to a reasonable size. I didn’t have them do the weeding, as I thought I could do that, but dealing with overgrown thorny bushes was more than I wanted. I spent a good deal of my summer afternoons working methodically along the house and the fence line weeding and establishing a boundary between the lawn and the garden beds. The lawn was as bad as my students—give it an inch and it took a mile, or at least a couple of feet. I did my weeding and other yard work in a skimpy bikini. I added a pair of shorts to the ensemble when in the front yard. I thought about doing my back yard work in the nude, but couldn’t work my courage up to prance around my back yard naked during the day (night time was another matter however).

The pergola was in the last corner of the yard that I got to. The crew I had hired had cut back the marauding rose bush and I weeded my way around the base of the structure and then decided that the next chore was to paint it. After scraping off the peeling remnants of the old paint job, I went to the hardware store and got paint, brushes, and other items required to do the painting.

I had noticed while I was working that when I stood on the deck of the pergola I could see into the neighbors’ yard. I didn’t know the neighbors—never met them, but they certainly had a beautiful yard. Someone was obviously putting a lot of time into maintaining it. Their bushes partly obscured my view of their yard, but if I stood in the right place in the pergola there were enough holes in the bushes to let me see most of their yard.

To paint I replaced my bikini with one of Larry’s old T-shirts. It was long enough to just barely cover my buns and my cleanly shaven pussy—as long as I was standing with my arms at my side. When I was down on my hands knees painting the base of the pergola it had a tendency to slide over my butt, leaving me fully exposed to anyone behind me. There wasn’t anyone behind me of course, so I didn’t see it as a problem. There was a similar problem when I reached over my head to work on the upper parts of the pergola. The bottom of the t-shirt rose up almost to my belly button. Still not a problem since no one was around. I really kind of liked the naughtiness of being exposed like that.

One afternoon after I had finished all of the painting except for a bit of touch up work on the upper part of the pergola, I put on my painting T-shirt and brought out all of my painting gear. Just as I stepped up onto the pergola I heard voices on the other side of the fence.

I stepped quickly to the side of the pergola protected by the neighbors’ foliage and peered through the bushes. There was a man standing in the yard. He was tall with silver hair, probably in his mid-to-late fifties. His face was lean with high cheekbones and a hawklike nose, his large eyes a dark brown topped by thick bushy silver brows. He had long hair pulled back into a short ponytail. His body was lean, well muscled but not heavy. You could see the details of his musculature throughout his body. Nothing was glossed over by fat. I thought he was really quite handsome. There was a wheelbarrow by his side filled with gardening tools, and he had a trowel in his hand. Obviously he was the gardener responsible for the spectacular yard. Oh and one other thing—he was naked, with a dark all over tan that suggested that he always did his gardening in the nude. I guessed that made him the owner, too, since most contract gardeners don’t work naked.

Well that’s interesting, I thought. He was the first naked man I had seen in the flesh since Larry died. He had his back to me and was looking over his shoulder towards the house. I specifically noticed his nice tight buns. Looking at them created a stir in my loins.

“Carlos?” I heard a soft, feminine voice call out to him.

“Yes,” he responded.

“Oh, there you are.”

A tall willowy woman of similar age to the naked gardener walked into my frame of vision. She had long silver hair that hung loosely over her shoulders and down her back. Unlike the naked gardener, she wore an ankle length dress that hung gracefully from her shoulders to her feet. She wore no makeup, but her face was beautiful—classic high cheekbones, a generous mouth with full lips and startling blue eyes. Her complexion was olive and clearly well tanned, but remarkably free of lines for the age betrayed by her silver hair.

“Are you about done?” she asked as she approached him. “You know what you promised.”

“Umm, yes,” he said with relish as he turned toward her. “I’m almost done, but I can stop now if you want.”

As he turned I could see his penis. It was hanging down but about half engorged. It lay like a log against his right thigh. She walked up to him and then reached down and wrapped both her hands around his growing member. I heard him gasp softly as he stood staring down into her eyes. He raised his hands to her shoulders and reached behind her neck to release the catch at the top of her gown. She raised her hands to allow him to smoothly pull the gown up and over her head, tossing it aside onto the lawn.

Now she was as naked as the gardener. Like the gardener she was tall and lean. Her breasts were small and her hips narrow and tightly muscled. Her skin was dark with no sign of any tan line arising from a swimsuit or the like. They both appeared to be in stunning physical condition for someone of their age. He used his hands to push her long silver hair (tangled from the passage of her clothing over her head) back away from her face. Then holding her face in both hands he leaned down and kissed her. It was a long, passionate kiss, but she kept her hands on his now fully engorged prick. She was twisting her hands around his prick. I remembered how I used to masturbate Larry with that technique when we first dated.

Eventually they broke the kiss. As she pulled back, he let his hands drop from her face to her breasts. She didn’t have much in the way of breasts to massage, but there were good sized nipples, obviously swollen from her own arousal, which he grabbed with his finger tips and began to twist and pull on. Now it was her turn to gasp.

They were near my side of their yard, so I could see them clearly and hear everything they said to each other. I was only about twenty feet away. Now what had started as a stirring in my loins was threatening to break into a raging inferno. How far would they go while I watched? Did they know I was here? Would they see me if I kept watching? All good questions. All questions I totally ignored as lust filled my brain and consumed my thinking.