Fruits Of The Bush
by Ray Gordon Copyright 2000 - Printed in Issue 1 of In The Buff

Four of us shared the rented house. Belinda was the dark horse, Jane the prude, and Christine the computer nerd. According to the girls, I was Melanie the mess. I believe it might have had something to do with the state I usually left the kitchen in, but can't be sure. We lived as everyone would expect four teenage girls to live. Bras and panties strewn everywhere - mostly mine - pairs of tights hanging over the banister, CDs scattered over the lounge floor ... Whatever the state of the place, the house was homely with that lived-in feel about it. And we were happy.

We each had our little quirks, but didn't get in each other's hair or interfere in any way. I'd never taken any notice of Belinda's peculiar habit of tapping on the lounge wall. I'd always assumed that she was drumming to music or a tune she was quietly humming. Jane would lock herself in her room for hours on end and pretend to be out, and I'd thought she'd just needed her own space from time to time. Christine also had idiosyncrasies, but we all got on well together.

It was only when I happened to be walking through the hall and noticed Belinda with her ear pressed to the lounge wall that I thought she was acting strangely. As she tapped on the wall, I slipped into the kitchen before she caught me watching her. I heard her tapping again, a little louder this time. She then wandered through the kitchen, mumbling something about the dustbin, and went out to the back garden. Wondering what she was up to, I glanced out of the window to see her walk past the dustbin and disappear into the bushes at the end of the garden.

I'd been standing at the sink doing the washing up for about fifteen minutes when she emerged from the bushes and ambled back to the house. Her blue eyes frowned at me as she entered the kitchen. To see me washing up was obviously something she found not only uncharacteristic but also disturbing. Moving to the door, she turned and gazed at me. It occurred to me that she might have thought I was washing up as a ploy to stand at the window and spy on her. I flashed her an innocent smile and she finally tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and went upstairs to her room.

My mind drifted as I finished the dishes. Belinda often went out to the garden, I reflected. There'd been occasions when I'd thought she spent more time in the garden than the house. But we were enjoying a lovely summer, so why not soak up the sun? I have to admit to phoning my boss and pretending to be ill just to get the week off work to enjoy the beautiful weather. There was nothing odd about sunbathing, but you don't get a tan by hiding in bushes.

Intrigued, I wiped my hands on the towel and wandered down the garden. There was nothing there, other than weeds and decaying leaves in a small clearing behind the bushes. I couldn't for the life of me think what she'd been up to. She'd not had her mobile with her, so she hadn't been making a private phone call. Besides, she could have done that in her room.

I wasn't exactly spying on her but, the following evening, I saw her tapping on the lounge wall again. The routine was exactly the same. Three taps followed by another three and then the trip to the end of the garden. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that she was signalling to the people in the house next door. They were a young married couple who'd always kept themselves to themselves. They both seemed to be at home most of the time and I'd assumed they didn't work. Apart from exchanging pleasantries in the street, I didn't have any contact with them. And I was sure Belinda didn't know them.

After about fifteen minutes, Belinda wandered back into the house and bounded up the stairs to her room. Again, I stole down the garden and peered into the bushes. There were no clues as to what she'd been doing and I wondered whether she'd been having a crafty smoke. She'd been very much anti-smoking since she'd given up three months previously, but might have been sneaking down the garden for a quick puff. There were no cigarette ends on the ground, which more or less ruled out that theory. I was sure that her visits to the bushes had something to do with the people next door, but what? There was no way she could talk to our neighbours over the fence as their shed backed onto the bushes.

My intrigue grew until I became obsessed with Belinda's clandestine activities. I watched her for a week or so, the wall tapping in the lounge followed by fifteen minutes hiding in the bushes. I'd been into the small clearing again and again, but had found nothing. I'd looked out of my bedroom window in an effort to see what she was up to, but the thick foliage completely shrouded her.

One afternoon while she was at work, I had an idea. Tapping on the wall, exactly as she'd done, I raced down the garden and slipped into the clearing. I didn't know what I was waiting for, what to expect, as I looked about me. She couldn't have been meeting anyone there, not unless they'd openly walked down our garden. I was becoming incensed over Belinda's damned secret, and was determined to discover what she'd been up to. Birds were singing, the summer sun shining, a lawnmower whirring in the distance ... A perfectly normal afternoon in a quiet suburb. What the hell was going on?

As I was about to return to the house, I heard a shuffling sound followed by a dull thud. Glancing at our neighbour's shed, I couldn't believe the sight that met my wide eyes. An erect penis was poking through a hole in the shed. Staring open-mouthed at the veined shaft, the huge purple knob, I froze. The pink shaft twitched expectantly as I gazed in disbelief at the organ. It obviously belonged to the man next door, the wall tapping signalling that Belinda wanted ... But he's married, I reflected naively. Surely he wouldn't ... Almost in a state of shock, I didn't know what to think.

Moving the branches aside and peering through the mass of leaves, I gazed at our house. The last thing I wanted was to be caught lurking in the bushes with an erect penis to hand. But I was safe enough. Belinda wasn't due home from work for a while and I reckoned that Jane and Christine were in their rooms. It was best to creep back to the house and try to forget the sordid incident, I concluded. What Belinda did was her business. If she had something going on with the married man next door, it was nothing to do with me.
Gazing at the penis again, I had an overwhelming urge to touch it. If I did succumb to my inner desires and stroke the magnificent specimen, the man would think it was Belinda. Glancing through the bushes at the house again, I realized that I could do what I liked and get away with it. No one would know what I'd done, I ruminated, my panties wetting as I thought of bringing out the man's sperm. I was between boyfriends and hadn't had the pleasure of playing with a rock-hard dick for several weeks. There was no point in letting an opportunity like this slip through my fingers.

Tentatively reaching out, I stroked the purple crown. The organ twitched, the knob swelling as I ran my fingertip over the small slit. My mind awash with wicked thoughts, I wondered what to do with the waiting organ. What did Belinda do? Wank it? Suck it? Gripping the warm shaft, I moved my hand up and down, running the foreskin back and forth over the swollen knob. If I wasn't careful, the man would realize that it wasn't Belinda's sensual touch. There again, when they met face to face rather than face to cock, she'd say that she'd been at work and someone else must have been lurking in the bushes.

But there'd be no telling who it was. Belinda would have her suspicions, of course. She'd no doubt rule out Jane the prude and be in two minds about Christine. She'd probably come to the conclusion that I was the secret cock fiddler, but there'd be no proof. My stomach somersaulting as I stroked the velveteen glans, my feminine desires finally got the better of me.

Kneeling, I parted my lips and sucked the purple knob into my wet mouth. The taste of the salty glans was heavenly. The feel of the silky-smooth surface between my lips aroused me no end. Moving my head back and forth, repeatedly taking the bulbous knob to the back of my throat, I felt decadent. This was my secret, I mused as I sucked and licked the solid plum. My wicked secret.

Slipping the swollen globe out of my mouth, I licked the slit, trying to push the tip of my tongue into the small aperture. Fully retracting the fleshy foreskin, I sucked the purple crown into my mouth again. My clitoris swelling, my panties soaked with my juices of desire, I felt wicked in the extreme. I could do exactly what I liked with the organ. Wank it, lick it, suck it ... My arousal soaring to frightening heights, I was about to slip my wet panties down and run the purple-headed cock up and down my drenched sex crack when a low moan emanated from the shed.

Sperm gushing from the throbbing glans, bathing my tongue, filling my cheeks, I swallowed hard. Like a babe at the breast, I fervently sucked, drinking the flood of salty sperm as my clitoris pulsated in anticipation. Once back in my room, I'd have to massage my pleasure bud to orgasm, I knew as I sucked the last of the sperm out of the twitching cock. Torrents of girl juice streaming between my swollen pussy lips and soaking into my panties, I desperately needed to come.

The snake-like organ finally deflating as I slipped the glistening knob out of my spermed mouth, I sat back on my heels. Watching the saliva-wet shaft hang limply over the wooden planking of the shed, I focused on a globule of sperm as it emerged from the knob-slit and hung in a long white strand. I moved forward and was about to lap it up when the spent penis retreated into the hole and disappeared. Before the man had time to spy through the hole, I leaped to my feet and scurried back to the house.

Praying that no one had seen me, my heart racing, my hands trembling, I dived into the kitchen. The taste of sperm lingering on my lips, I pondered on Belinda's naughty secret. How long had it been going on? When had she met the man next door? And what had given them the idea of drilling a hole in the shed? Perhaps he slipped his finger though the hole and massaged her clitty? She might even press her young breast against the hole, her erect nipple inviting the man's mouth. I couldn't wait for her to get home. I wanted to tell her that I knew what she'd been up to. I'd have loved to have seen the expression on her pretty face, but daren't let on that I knew her dark secret.

Jane and Christine were in the lounge, and I decided to slip up to my room and appease my yearning clitoris. Closing and locking my bedroom door, I slipped my wet panties off and lay on the bed. Parting my thighs, I ran my finger up and down my well-juiced girl slit, my naked body trembling as my clitoris swelled. Breathing deeply, I massaged the sensitive tip of my sex nodule, my pleasure heightening as I recalled sucking the sperm out of the man's solid knob. Would I have the opportunity to swallow his sperm again? I pondered as my womb rhythmically contracted and my lust juices gushed from the tightening sheath of my hot vagina.

"God," I breathed, massaging my clitoris faster as my orgasm suddenly erupted. Never before had I come so quickly. My almost painfully erect clitoris pulsating wildly, sending intense shockwaves of ecstasy deep into my pelvis, I arched my back. On and on my climax rolled, taking me higher to my sexual heaven as the wet duct of my cunt tightened. I needed a cock, I knew as I again thought of sucking the sperm from the man's orgasming knob. My pleasure peaking as I rode the crest of my mind-blowing orgasm, I desperately needed his huge cock in my cunt, fucking me, spunking me.

My hand falling by my side as my orgasm finally receded, I lay trembling uncontrollably on the bed. My sex juices oozing from my burning vaginal sheath and running down between my firm buttocks, I slipped my hand beneath my thigh. Teasing the brown eye of my bottom-hole, I gasped and writhed as my clitoris fluttered, sending ripples of sex through my quivering body. I was about to masturbate again, take myself to another mind-blowing orgasm, when I heard the front door slam shut. Leaping off the bed, I composed myself as best I could and went down stairs. I'd masturbate again later, I promised myself, realizing that I wasn't wearing panties.

Finding Belinda in the kitchen, I tried to come across as normal. But I couldn't help picturing her kneeling behind the bushes with the man's cock sperming in her mouth. As she chatted about her day, I focused on her full red lips, imagining our neighbour's purple knob bloating her pretty mouth, shooting sperm down her throat. Did she bend over and slip his penis into her pussy? I wondered in my rising excitement. It would be somewhat awkward to fuck a penis that was sticking through a hole in a shed, but possible.

Watching her like a hawk that evening, I grinned when she discreetly tapped on the lounge wall. As she went down the garden and slipped into the bushes, I had it in mind to spy on her. I was going to creep across the lawn and peer through the foliage but, to my disappointment, she headed back to the house after only a few minutes. I dashed into the lounge and sat on the sofa, chatting to Christine in an effort to appear innocent.
Belinda walked into the room, her frowning eyes darting between Christine and me as we looked up at her. The man in the shed had obviously whispered something about the afternoon sucking session and she'd informed him that she'd been at work all day. She'd have guessed that one of us had impersonated her in the bushes. But there was nothing she could say, other than ask who had been drinking sperm from our adulterous neighbour's cock. I doubted very much that she'd come out with such a question.

She spent the evening stomping around the house, obviously seething with anger and wondering as to the identity of the secret cock sucker. I didn't know what she had to complain about. She didn't own the man. After all, he was married. His wife was in her early twenties and, although a little shy, extremely attractive. She was building a home with her husband and probably planning to have children. To think that she was in the house while he was sticking his cock through a hole in the shed wall and having his knob sucked ... I felt sorry for his wife. But I was as guilty as Belinda.

The following day after Belinda had gone to work, temptation outweighed my pity for the man's wife and I tapped on the wall. He now knew that there was an impersonator on the loose. He was well aware that there was another female mouth thirsty for his cock. Knowing that Belinda was out, would he creep down the garden to his shed? Did he really care whether it was Belinda's mouth or someone else's he was sticking his knob into? He was happy enough to cheat on his wife, so why not Belinda?

I must admit to feeling a little guilty as I waited in the bushes. The man was betraying his wife, and I was aiding and abetting his infidelity. Wondering whether to return to the house and leave Belinda and the adulterer to their wicked ways, I grinned as his erect penis slipped through the hole in the shed. His knob-slit seemed to smile at me, beckoning me as I gazed at the inviting purple globe. He wouldn't tell Belinda that one of her friends had sucked him off again. He'd lie to her, as he'd lied to his wife.

Gazing at the solid shaft of his penis, the glistening purple crown, I knelt on the ground. Weak in my arousal, I couldn't help myself as I took the bulbous globe of his cock deep into my thirsty mouth. Tonguing his sperm-slit, breathing heavily through my nose, I mouthed and sucked the magnificent organ. Moving my head back and forth, my taut lips rolling along his solid shaft, I gently mouth-fucked myself.

I might as well have some fun, I mused, tugging my cunny-wet panties down. I was never one to miss an opportunity. After all, it wasn't every day that a cock reared its beautiful head. Slipping his knob out of my mouth, I stood up and lifted my skirt. My hands trembling, I ran the bulb of his glans up and down my drenched pussy slit. My clitoris responded, pulsating delightfully as his ballooning cockhead teased the sensitive tip. Leaning against the shed to steady my trembling body, I became oblivious to my surroundings as I sank into a warm pool of illicit sex.

"God," I breathed, pressing his silky knob between the softness of my dripping inner lips and taking his solid shaft deep into my aching cunt. Gyrating my hips, massaging my inner pussy flesh with his huge glans, I listened to the gasps of pleasure emanating from the shed. The sound of my squelching juices of arousal filled the air as I fucked the beautiful cock. Massaging my yearning clitoris, I stifled my cries of sexual bliss as the birth of my orgasm stirred deep within my contracting womb.

The gush of sperm coinciding with the explosion of ecstasy within my pulsating clitoris, I clung to the side of the shed as my legs sagged. The sheath of my cunt gripping the pistoning organ, a cocktail of girl juice and sperm sprayed from my bloated sex cavern, splattering my inner thighs as I rocked my hips. Digging my fingernails into the wooden planking of the shed, I gasped as my pleasure peaked. Again and again tremors of orgasm ripped through my tingling body, reaching every nerve ending, tightening every muscle until I finally collapsed to the ground in a convulsing heap.

I had to make my escape before the man spied through the hole. Crawling out of the bushes, sperm and girl juice oozing from the entrance to my burning cunt, I clambered to my feet and staggered towards the house. Dragging my panties up my trembling legs as I crossed the lawn, I crashed through the back door and almost fell into the kitchen. Thanking God that there was no one around, I leaned against the kitchen sink until I'd recovered from one of the best orgasms I'd ever experienced.

The weeks passed and I was more than happy with my share of our neighbour's cock. Belinda seemed happier, and I knew that she wasn't going without a good shafting. She either didn't know about the man's double adultery or didn't care. But she did seem a little apprehensive when she said her goodbyes and left the house to stay with her parents for a couple of weeks. Determined to make the most of the adulterous penis while Belinda was out of the way, I regularly skipped down the garden to the bushes.

When the doorbell rang one evening, I was surprised to find the man's wife standing on the step. Her hair was dishevelled, her pretty face flushed, her eyes red. Had she discovered her husband's adultery? I wondered fearfully. Announcing that she was going away, she asked whether we'd keep an eye on her house. A wave of relief rolled through me as I readily agreed. Christine said that she'd be happy to keep watch over the place and Jane even offered to water the garden. As the betrayed wife walked down the path to a waiting taxi, I wondered where her husband was.

"One of you might want to borrow these," she called, placing a pair of scissors on the gatepost. "You might need to use them in your garden." Jane fetched the scissors and handed them to me as the taxi drove off. Back in the lounge, we talked about the weird episode, wondering why the girl had lent us a pair of scissors. It occurred to me that she'd discovered what was going on and thought the culprit might want to cut her husband's penis off. A woman scorned?

As I went out to the kitchen to make some coffee, Christine followed me. I felt that she was keeping an eye on me as I filled the kettle. When Jane wandered into the kitchen, I was very much aware of a feeling of awkwardness among us. Opening the backdoor, Christine wandered down the garden and hovered by the bushes. When she returned, she looked worried. Jane then announced that she was going to get her washing off the line and went out to the garden. When she came back a couple of minutes later, minus washing, we all sat in the lounge and sipped our coffee in silence.

Something was going on, but I couldn't think what. The girl next door had done something in the bushes, I concluded. Had she discovered the truth behind her husband's frequent trips to the shed and blocked the hole up? Perhaps she'd worked out what was going on and had tapped on the wall while he wasn't looking. She might have waited until he'd gone into the shed and then crept into our garden to catch him red-cocked. But what on earth were the scissors for?

Leaving the girls in the lounge, I took a trip down the garden. Moving close to the bushes, I saw the man's penis sticking through the hole in the shed. There was a length of string held with sticky tape around the base of his limp cock. The string was taut, the other end tied to a branch of a bush. That explains the scissors, I mused as I returned to the house. With his wife and Belinda away, it was down to me to cut him loose.
"I don't need these," Jane said, holding up the scissors as I closed the back door.

"I don't need them, either," Christine rejoined. "What would I do with a pair of scissors in the garden?"
"Have you any use for them?" Jane asked me. I shook my head negatively as she tossed them into the bin. "I think we'll leave the gardening to Belinda."

s "She loves pottering around out there," Christine smiled. "What with the rain we had this morning, weeds and things will be thrusting up everywhere. She'll have quite a lot to do when she gets back next week. Shall we go out for a drink?"