In a Lady's Garden

Her husband took ten minutes on the first Thursday of every month. Her gardener is going to take all afternoon.Lady Eleanor has done everything right. She married the man she was told to marry, buried him with perfect dignity, and has worn her mourning gown without a single wrinkle. Five years of marriage taught her duty, and nothing else. Nobody ever told her what her own body was for.Every morning she stands at the drawing room window and watches Nate work in the garden. He's the gardener: broad-shouldered, sun-bronzed, shirt hanging from the wheelbarrow, with a hairy, sweat-slicked chest and a crude mouth he doesn't bother to hide. Every morning she steps back from the glass like a coward.Then her oldest friend Josie arrives with a decanter of Latour, a wicked smile, and a ten-year-old confession.By two o'clock, they're drinking tea. By three, the door is locked and Eleanor is learning what her own fingers can do.She doesn't know that the man outside has stopped digging. She doesn't know he can see everything. And when she finally sees him looking back, with his trousers open and his cock in his fist, Eleanor has a choice to make. Be proper, or be ruined.She chooses ruined.An afternoon of firsts, and not one of them polite:A first orgasm, coached by the best friend who's wanted her for yearsA first taste of another woman, and a very eager studentA gardener with a filthy mouth, a thick cock, and six months of pent-up wantingA cum-streaked windowpane and a butler who knows better than to askHer first real fucking, on her late husband's writing deskA proper lesson in how to take a cock, and how to share oneSlow, wet, wine-drunk indulgence on the drawing room rugFive years of nothing. One afternoon of everything.Explicit sex. FF, MF, and MFF scenes. Voyeurism, exhibitionism, oral, cum play, orgasm coaching, and one very sturdy desk. Expect swearing, groaning, and at least one broken inkwell. All characters are consenting adults.