a walk in the park pt 1

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Cheating

a walk in the park pt 1A Walk in the ParkMy name is Hannah Jensen and I’m a happily married woman. Very happilymarried. I’m thirty-one years old, have a 13 month old daughter named Sarah,and a wonderful husband, Jim, who’s a CPA. We’ve been married for sixyears and it’s been wonderful. Jim is the classic `tall, dark and handsome’man that every girl dreams about.Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had our problems, but for the most part it’sbeen wonderfulThe only rough stretch came during the first six months after Sarah’sbirth. I couldn’t seem to rekindle any interest in sex and Jim sufferedthrough it without a murmur. I worked hard and got back into shape and did mybest, but sex just didn’t appeal to me. It wasn’t that I was scared ofgetting pregnant again (Sarah’s birth was very difficult), but….. I was justreluctant.Sarah was just six months old when we went for a walk in the park. We livein a nice suburb that borders a big park with a world famous rose gardenthat’s over 100 years old. I love to put Sarah in her carriage when theweather is good and walk through the park with her. I know she’ll love theflowers when she’s older. This particular day was a very hot day in July, aweek or so after the 4th. The sun was shining, the sky was cloudless, and itwas very humid.When we left the house I was wearing a rather baggy, loose fittingsleeveless cotton top, a short denim skirt, and sandals. I was back in shape andproud of it. I’m not beautiful, but I am fairly attractive. I’m 5’8″tall, usually weigh around 125 pounds, and I have a nice figure (34c-25-35).My legs are my best feature – they’re long and sleek and nicely curved andmy thighs are smooth and firm. I’m proud of them and like to show themoff. As for the rest, I have brown hair, worn very short now, brown eyes,and a smooth olive-tan complexion.We crossed the street into the park and went up the path to the rosegarden. Sarah was content to suck on her pacifier and wave her little handsaround. I walked slowly to give me time to admire the flowers and to avoidgetting sweaty. It was hot and I knew I couldn’t keep Sarah out too long -but there were shady spots where I could park the carriage and take a breakout of the sun.After a few minutes I turned away from the rose garden and crossed thegrass to the new rock garden that had been put in over the past two seasons.It was shady there and much cooler. I was crouching to examine a plant I’d never seen before when I heard the click and whir of a motorized camera.I glanced up and saw a very attractive young woman taking pictures a fewfeet down the path. She glanced over and smiled and I smiled back.She had a Nikon camera, with a macro zoom lens, set on a sturdyprofessional tripod. My husband and I dabble in photography (he’d hate it if he knewI said dabble – he’s serious about it) so I knew that I was looking at aprofessional setup. The woman looked to be no more than 18 or 19 but Iknew she had to be older. She was a redhead and I was surprised at how tannedshe was. Her thick red hair was pulled back into a French braid that hungalmost to her waist. She was wearing denim shorts, a tank top, and wasbarefoot. Her arms and legs were smoothly muscled and I guessed she workedout regularly.She took a couple of more shots and then straightened up and walked overand bent over the carriage. She smiled at Sarah and glanced up to ask mehow old she was. I saw that her eyes were a deep green, a shade I’d neverseen before. “Six months, her name is Sarah.” My voice sounded strange tome and I wondered if I was catching a summer cold.The redhead grinned and said, “My name is Sara – without an `h’. YourSarah is very pretty.””So are you!” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I found myselfwondering why I’d said that. It was true of course, but still….She blushed and said, “Thank you, you’re very kind.”Desperate to change the subject, I asked about the pictures she wastaking. She told me that she was a professional photographer and was working ona book about public gardens in the United States. We chatted for a whileand I found myself fascinated by her descriptions of the gardens she’dvisited and photographed and the characters she’d met while doing so.She had a wedding ring on and I asked how her husband dealt with all hertraveling. She blushed again and admitted that she wasn’t married, she justwore the ring as a way to discourage unwanted attention. We talked for afew more minutes and then she asked me if I’d mind posing for her. Ihesitated and then let her talk me into it. I wanted to pose, but didn’t wantto seem too eager.She moved her tripod and replaced the macro zoom with a 105mm telephoto.I posed in front of the rock garden, moving and changing position as shedirected. I found that I enjoyed posing very much. She kept up a steadystream of encouragement, directions, flattery, and just plain chatter.She stopped at one point to change film and I changed Sarah’s diaper whileshe was busy. Then she posed me crouching in front of an ornamental grassplant, a big purple specimen that I wished I had in my garden. I wasfacing the camera at a 45 degree angle and she directed me to pull my skirt backa little to show more of my `long beautiful legs’ as she put it. Itugged it up a little and then a little more. She moved a little and asked me toopen my knees slightly – I knew she was going to get a revealing shot ofmy inner thighs, but I didn’t mind.She finished the roll very quickly and I learned a little about what itwas like to model for a professional photographer – it was mostly a matter oftaking directions, something I’ve always done well. She had me take mysandals off for the third or fourth shot, then kneel with my skirt up high toshow my thighs. A later pose had me roll my top up from the waist to showmy bare midriff. I quite enjoyed posing and was disappointed when thesecond roll of film was finished.Sara told me she’d develop and print the pictures escort izmit overnight and would havethem ready the next day. She offered to meet me in the park and give me aset of prints. I hesitated for a moment and then suggested that she bringthem to the house in the morning. “My mother is taking Sarah for the dayso I can work in the yard. You’re welcome to come over for breakfast and I’ll show you my garden.” I held my breath while I waited for her toanswer. I didn’t know why, but it was suddenly very important that she acceptmy invitation.It was her turn to hesitate. Then she smiled and said, “I was planning tocheck out of my motel and leave in the morning after dropping off theprints, but I guess I could stay over and spend the day visiting. Maybe I canget some pictures of your garden for my book. She gave me the address ofthe motel and the phone number so I could call if anything came up. Then wewalked to the parking lot and she packed her stuff in her van and followedme home, irking a few drivers who didn’t like her slow pace.She pulled into the driveway and we chatted for a few minutes. She wrotedown the address and I gave her the number of my cell phone. Then it wastime for me to take Sarah in for lunch and time for Sara to go. She heldher hand out and we shook. Then, holding my hand tightly, she pulled meforward until I was pressed against the door of the van. We stared at eachother for a moment and then she kissed me on the mouth. It was strange kissinganother woman – strange and different, softer, more intimate, more eroticthan kissing a man. I was stunned. I leaned againt the door and let hertongue probe deep into my mouth.The kiss ended, finally, and I stepped back, dazed. I stared at her for amoment and she smiled and whispered, “Bye. Call me if you change yourmind about tomorrow.” Then she put the van in gear and backed out of thedriveway. I stood there and watched her drive down the street and turn thecorner. Then I took Sarah inside and fixed lunch for both of us. The rest ofthe day passed in a kind of a blur. I couldn’t forget the kiss. Nor couldI forget how much I had enjoyed modelling for Sara. And I couldn’tforget her strange green eyes.That night seemed to last forever. My husband got home late and waspreoccupied with some problems one of his clients was having. I went to bed at10 p.m. and had trouble falling asleep. Then I woke up at 2:00 a.m. andhad trouble getting back to sleep. I went downstairs and walked in the yard,wearing only the man’s undershirt that I use for a nightshirt. It’s an XLand fits me like a short dress – to mid-thigh. The armholes are huge andrevealing and it’s been washed so many times that it fits me like a gloveand the material is very thin. It’s my favorite thing to wear to bed, butthat night it felt stifling even though the temperature at 2:00 a.m. wasonly 70 degrees. I turned the hose on and let a stream of cold water washover me. My nipples hardened and then I was shivering. I went inside anddried off and went back to bed nude.I was up at 6:00 and took Sarah over to my mother’s house at 7:00. I washome and showered by 8:00. Then I tried to decide what to wear. I finallydecided on plain work-in-the-garden casual – an old pair of faded denimcutoffs, a sleeveless denim shirt – old, faded, and soft, plain cotton underwear(Hanes), white cotton socks and workboots. I took a long look in themirror and decided that the cutoffs weren’t short enough. I took them off andcut another 2″ off each leg and then made a little slit in each side nextto the seam. Much better, much sexier.Sara arrived at 9:00, wearing linen shorts and a sleeveless top croppedjust below her bust. She looked very sexy. I poured her a cup of coffeewhile she spread the prints out on the dining room table. I was stunned when Isaw them. They were black and white, developed and printed in a portabledarkroom in the bathroom of her motel room, but they were great! Ilooked…. professional, sexy, beautiful, mysterious. I looked at each oneseveral times. It wasn’t vanity – I was just stunned at how good she made melook.I asked her how she’d done it and she grinned, “Magic, it’s magic! Butseriously, there are just some people that the camera loves – photogenic somecall it, but I call it love, and you happen to be one of them. Peoplelike you always look great in pictures. You should see some of the topmodels in person – you wouldn’t give them a second glance. But the camera lovesthem and they look great on film. If you were a few years younger…..”Her voice trailed off and I shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m 31 and I’mhappy with my life.”Sara nodded. “I can see that. You ooze contentment, but I sense a slightdiscord. And yesterday you did seem to respond….”I shook my head. “Not now, please. Let’s go look at my gardens.” Iturned and started toward the kitchen and the back door. Sara grabbed hercameras and followed. I stepped out onto the deck and held the door for her,enjoying her gasp of surprise as she got her first glimpse of our backyard.Most people react like that.Our house is set on a lot that measures 400′ wide by 800′ deep.Originally part of a 15 acre parcel owned by the city, and intended to be part ofthe park, it had been cut off from the park when the adjoining town, inwhich the land lay, insisted on putting a road through. The road I live on.So the 15 acres was never developed and the land our house was on was soldto a prominent politican who built the house in the early 1930s. We boughtit three years ago. The rest of the parcel is used by the park for variouspurposes. There is a small greenhouse, a maintainence shed, and quite anumber of experimental plots. A lot of it is quite overgrown. Our land iscompletely surrounded by an 8′ stockade fence that the city put in andmaintains. So our yard is very private.And very beautiful. We have a two-level deck on the back of the house withexits onto the upper level from the back izmit darıca escort bedrooms. Stairs lead down tothe lowerlevel which has an exits onto it from the kitchen and diningroom.Then another set of stairs lead down to the ground level where there is abluestone patio surrounding an inground pool and spa. To the left is athree-car garage with a small apartment on the second floor. The pool issurrounded by a 4′ wrought iron fence. Beyond the pool is a big stretch of lawn.The land slopes upward starting about 120′ behind the house. This iswhere I’ve put my gardens. Over the past two years I’ve created a series ofterraces for my rock garden. In the far back corner, on the right, thereis a huge boulder that was left when the house was built. It’s about 9′ indiameter and must weight 7 or 8 tons. It’s just inside the fence and isthe focal point of my garden. I’ve got 4 levels of terraces that I’ve dugby hand. I’ve had some smaller boulders brought in – 2′-4′ in diameterand weighing 500-1,000 pounds. I’ve got them s**ttered around the variouslevels and now I’m filling in with smaller rocks and crushed stone. I’vestarted planting on the upper two levels and I’m currently working on puttingin a form for a water garden on the lowest level. I’ve had water andelectricity run out there and I’m working on the hole.Sara glanced at me with a delighted smile on her face and then skippeddown the stairs and ran across the lawn to the garden. I followed at a slowerpace, enjoying her enthusiasm. She headed back to the garden and begansnapping pictures. As I approached, she turned and snapped a few of me. “Oh,Hannah!” She exclaimed, “I love it! I want to document the rest of yourwork!”I smiled and told her that she was welcome anytime. I watched her as sheshot a full roll of film. “Just preliminary shots, I want to have them so Ican plan. Can I shoot you as you work?””Of course, I’d love it. My mom takes Sarah two days a week and Jim ishere on weekends to watch her.”She turned and looked back at the house and noticed the balcony on theback of the garage – and the skylights. “What’s up there?”I explained how the original owner’s wife (the politican) had artisiticambtions and he’d build an apartment onto the second level of the garage forher to use as a studio. “We had plans to renovate when we first bought thehouse. We thought we’d rent it out and the income would be a nice cushion.”Sara nodded. “What happened?””Well, we were caught in a kind of Catch-22 situation. We needed theincome but didn’t have the money for the renovations. Then my grandmother diedand left me some money. Quite a lot of money actually, and we didn’t needthe income anymore so we never renovated the apartment.”Sara grinned. “Can I look at it?””Of course. But I have to warn you. It’s pretty grim.”She grabbed my hand and tugged. “Come on, please! I want to see it.”I let her lead me back up the yard to the house. She went out to her vanto get her equipment bag and I went inside to get the keys to the apartment.When I came back out she was just setting her bag down on the deck. Shewas very excited as we climbed the stairs to the door. I expected her to bedisappointed when I finally got the door opened and ushered her inside,but she was delighted. The place was a real mess, but she saw thepossibilities – like I’d seen them for a garden in what had been an overgrown yard.The garage apartment is basically two big rooms. A combinationkitchen/living room and a bedroom/studio. There is a bathroom and a small room forstorage. The total area is about 25′ x 35′ as the garage is really a 3 cargarage with a storage area. Sara walked around and nodded occasionally,whispering to herself. Once she lifted her hand to point at something onthe ceiling, a water spot, and her top lifted, baring her small, pertbreasts. It was ..enchanting.She caught me looking and grinned. “Do you like them?”I felt myself blushing and stammered, “YYYYes, they’re pretty.” What astupid comment I thought to myself immediately afterward. Then I stamped myfoot in mock anger and said, “Don’t do that – don’t make me blush likethat. I hate it.”She grinned and said, “Then you don’t want me to take my top off?”I blushed again and turned away.She laughed. “I heard you. What was that you muttered under your breath.”I glanced over my should, my face still flaming. “Bitch. That’s what Isaid.” And I said, “Yes.”She smiled, a sweet gentle smile that lit up her face like a thousand wattbulb. “Really?”I nodded. “Yes, really.” And wondered what the hell I was doing.She slipped her top off and tucked it into the waistband of her shorts. Itried not to stare at her but her bare breasts were so pretty. They’resmall, maybe a b-cup, perfectly conical in shape, and tipped with hard littlepink nipples. Which instantly came erect.She looked at me looking at her and grinned again. “Now you.”I nodded and slowly unbuttoned my shirt. I slipped it off and looked for aplace to put it, but there wasn’t a spot that was free of dust. I turnedand opened the door and d****d my shirt over the railing. Then I turnedback and looked straight at Sara as I reached back to unhook my bra. When Ieased it off my breasts bounced gently and Sara took a deep breath. “God,”she whispered, “You have beautiful tits. I wish mine were bigger.” Itossed my bra on top of my shirt and stepped back into the room. It feltdeliciously wicked to be topless in the presence of another woman, an almosttotal stranger.We walked around the apartment and Sara pointed out things that could bedone. Then she said she wanted to talk seriously about leasing the place.We went back to the house and I poured coffee for us and we went out ontothe deck. Sara made her pitch. She said she’d do the renovations herself,except for the plumbing, if I’d pay for the material and then lease her theplace for a year with an option for a second year at an increase of no morethan izmit rus escort 10%. I was hesitant, but she convinced me that she could do thework. She grew up with five older brothers, the only daughter, and her fatherwas a carpenter. One of her brothers is an electrican. She told me shecould do the carpentry and the electrical work – we’d just need to have itinspected. And we’d have to find a plumber. Preferably a woman plumber.We talked money and she agreed to do a detailed estimate of materialcosts. We argued about the amount of the lease and came to an agreement. Shedragged her equipment bag over to the table and pulled out a pad and pencil.Something else fell out, something that looked like a rubber ball, buthad black nylon straps attached to it. She picked it up quickly and went tostuff it back into the bag. I asked her what it was. This time it was herturn to blush and I giggled as a wave of red moved down over her chest.She said something too low for me to catch and I asked her to repeat it.”Bitch. I said bitch.” Then she grinned. “It’s a ball gag.” I musthave look puzzled because she shook her head and continued, “It’s a gag. I’m into mild b&d. Does that shock you?””A little,” I admitted. “But I’m also curious.”She pulled the ball gag out of the bag again and set it on the table.Then she pulled out some additional items, naming each as she set it down.”Wrist cuffs.” Leather straps like little belts with rings and a placefor a small padlock.”Ankle cuffs.” Pretty much the same except slight larger.”Nipple Clips.” Small metal clips with padded jaws and strong springs. Ishivered when I saw them.”Chains.” A set of short chains with very fine links and spring clips oneach end.”Dildo.” A realistic penis made of rubber – about 8″ long and thick.”Butt Plug.” A black plastic device that had a flared base.”Another Dildo.” This one attached to a pair of black nylon panties.”Vibrator.” A big one with a black switch on the base.”Penis Gag.” Another realistic penis about 5″ long and thick, withstraps.”Anal Vibrator.” Thinner and not as long as the other one.”More clips.” Small metal clips some with padded jaws and some withsawtooth jaws.When she was done she sat back and looked at me. “Well, are you tooshocked? Should I pack up and leave?”I glanced from her to her collection and then back again. “No.” My voicewas a whisper. “Please don’t leave.”She stared at me in silence for a moment and then nodded. She picked upthe wrist cuffs and asked if I wanted to try them on. I hesitated and thennodded. “Yes, I would.” My voice still a whisper.She got up and came around the table. I held out my hands while sheattached the cuffs. The she had me stand up and bring my wrists around behindmy back. When I did, she used a spring clip to fasten the cuffs together. Iwas helpless. And shocked at how excited I was.Sara watched me try to free myself and smiled when I gave up.”Scared?”I admitted that I was. She asked if I wanted her to take them off. Ihesitated and then whispered, “Not if you don’t want to.”She grinned. Then she picked up a pair of nipple clamps and ran herfingers over my nipples until they were erect and hard. I closed my eyes andmoaned as she fastened the clamps to my nipples. The pain was intense, butbearable. And made me very wet.She watched me for a minute and then informed me that she was going tostrip me. I shook my head. “No, please don’t.””Do you want me to gag you?” She waited for me to answer.”No.””Then be a good girl.” She unsnapped my shorts and eased them down overmy hips. Then she knelt to work them off over my workboots. She foldedthem neatly and placed them over the back of my chair. Still kneeling, shereached up and pulled my panties down. I lifted each foot in turn and sheworked them off over my boots. Then she glanced up and asked if I wanted myworkboots on or off. I thought about it for a moment. “Off. I want tobe entirely nude.”She untied my boots and took them off. But she insisted on leaving mysocks on. “Looks sexier,” she explained. Then she reached up and ran theback of her hand over my thick pubic bush. “This will have to go.” Inodded.She stood up and looked me over carefully, motioning me to turn.”Slowly, I want to study your body.” I turned slowly, my eyes closed.I had never been so excited. The pain in my nipples was delicious.After a minute or two, she told me I could stop. “You have an incrediblybeautiful body. I want to photograph you extensively. I want you to worknude in the garden. Will you?”I opened my eyes and found I was facing away from her. I turned and toldher that I’d think about it. She stepped close and removed the nipple clips.I sighed as the pain vanished. Then she unsnapped the spring clip andfreed my wrists. I stood there, hands at my sides, and waited.She sat down and looked up at me. “Decision time.” She reached upsuddenly and slipped a hand between my legs. Her fingers came away wet. Shelicked them delicately, like a cat licks its paw. “You’re very wet and verytasty.” She looked up at me and smiled. “Where do we go from here?”I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I just don’tknow.””Do you want me to leave?” She waited patiently while I thought it over.”No, I don’t.””You were, are, obviously turned on. Why?””You. You turn me on. And so do these things.” I gestured at thebondage toys spread across the table. “And so does the pain,” I whispered. “The delicious pain.”She kicked her sandals off and stretched her bare feet out in front ofher. “You have to make a decision. Right now. We can go ahead or we canstop and remain just friends. If you want to go ahead then your place is onyour knees for I mean to have you as my slave. My nude personal slave. Iwant you on your belly, licking my feet and acknowledging your slavery.”I took a deep breath and looked out across the yard. Then I looked back atSara. Small, slim, beautiful Sara with her pretty legs and pert littletits. And her wide, smiling mouth. I dropped to my knees and then down ontomy belly. I kissed each of her small, pretty feet and then licked them insubmission. She sighed with pleasure. Then she leaned over and fastenedthe cuffs together behind my back. I was a slave.

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