Secrets in the Garden
I had arrived at Monica’s house unannounced, hoping for a quiet visit with my children. Monica, my ex-wife, and I maintained a surprisingly healthy relationship, rooted in mutual respect and an enduring, unspoken physical chemistry. As an entrepreneur running her own small grocery store, she was usually busy, but today the front door was locked. Curious, I slipped through the open patio gate, treating the space as if it were still my own.
As I neared the garden area, the unmistakable sounds of passion drifted through the air—stifled moans and the rhythmic thud of bodies meeting. I paused, reminding myself that Monica was a free woman. Yet, the curiosity was an itch I couldn’t help but scratch. I crept toward the corner of the house, peering around the edge to find a scene that left me breathless.
Monica was on a mattress in the patio, her pale, wide hips moving in a frantic, galloping rhythm. She was riding a man whose face was hidden, her tight heat enveloping him completely. But it was the second man that froze my blood: Don Oscar, my former father-in-law. He stood before her, his weathered body lean and hard, while Monica used her mouth and hands to worship him with a hunger that bordered on the feral.
The sight was electric. Monica was a goddess of desire, her body arching as she balanced the pleasure of two men. Don Oscar’s hand rested firmly on her head, guiding her pace, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The stranger beneath her drove upward, trying to bury himself to the hilt, while Monica’s hips blurred in that signature, rhythmic shake she only used when she was on the precipice of an orgasm.
I stood hidden, my own breath hitching. I couldn’t look away. I reached into my trousers, my hand gripping my length as I watched the woman I once called mine be claimed by others. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and arousal. When the stranger finally finished, he stepped aside, leaving Monica to turn her attention fully to her father.
Don Oscar didn’t waste a second. He surged forward, driving his thick member into her with a single, powerful thrust that made Monica gasp, her eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy. They fought a war of pleasure, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, their moans echoing through the garden. The stranger watched, masturbating in sync with them, as the family bond dissolved into pure, unadulterated lust.
After a final, explosive climax that left all three of them entwined and breathless, I quietly retreated. I finished myself off against the garden foliage, the intensity of the scene leaving me shaking. As I sat in my car, lighting a cigarette to calm my nerves, a familiar voice startled me.
“What happened? Did they leave you outside?” it was Monica’s mother, my former mother-in-law, smiling at me from the porch.
I looked at her, my gaze darkening with a sudden, predatory hunger. “I just arrived,” I replied, my voice low. “Are you free right now?”
She chuckled, a knowing glint in her eye. “I just need a shower…”
“Get in the car,” I interrupted. “We’ll shower together at the motel.” She didn’t hesitate, sliding into the passenger seat with a smirk. As I drove away, I realized that in this family, the secrets were the most delicious part.