Jenny_Jackson
Psycho Bitch
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2006
- Posts
- 10,872
A present for you both. Read it and weep. (This is the original draft btw)
Horticultural Sex II
The old strake-side pickup rumbled and smoked down Chancy Avenue headed toward the fancy Gotrocks neighborhood and Eduardo’s next lawn job. His cell phone beeped incessantly. Eduardo glanced at the phone. “Dat crazy Wilma bitch again. Every fucking day she call me,” he groaned.
With trepidation Eduardo opened the phone. “Yeah? What da fuck you want?”
“A weed, Eduardo. There’s a weed in my roses,” came the all too familiar voice on the other end.
“Yeah? Well it will be there tomorrow too,” Eduardo said, irritated.
“Oh God, Eduardo. By tomorrow it will be ten, maybe even twenty or a hundred weeds. God, I need you, Eduardo.” The voice had become sultry at the last, almost a lustful moan.
“So? What you want me to do, lady?”
"Oh, come to me, Eduardo. Make my day. Make me blossom again. I need you bad, my love.” By now the voice was only a guttural whisper interspersed with heavy breathing.
“Okay. Give me two hours. I be there and pull dat weed. An it’s ten dollars per hour. Okay?”
Eduardo closed his cell phone muttering, “Puta!
Just under two hours later Eduardo’s old pickup truck pulled into Wilma’s driveway. After climbing out of the truck, he took a hoe from the back and walked around to the back of the house. As he reached to patio he stopped, staring.
“Hey. Who the fuck is dat?” he said under his breath.
Crouched over the begonias was another Hispanic man spreading bark dust around the plants.
Louder, Eduardo called, “Hey you. What da fuck you doing?”
Julio Rameriz stood and turned toward Eduardo. “I’m putting bark dust here like da lady told me.”
“Where you come from? Dis my job here,” Eduardo said angrily.
“I working next door. Lady saw me and ask me to come,” Julio replied, stretching his fine, tanned, body.
“Oh, you’re here,” came the voice of Wilma. “Julio is doing such a fine job, don’t you think?” Wilma’s hair was disheveled and her blouse was buttoned wrong. Her lips were pursed and her cheeks flushed.
Eduardo stared at Wilma for a moment then took his hoe to the weed growing under the rose. He hoed feverishly while Julio and Wilma watched. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged with the effort. The weed flew as if by magic but Eduardo did not stop. He hoed, breaking the soil, giving live and aeration to the ground. The roses bowed to his superhuman effort.
Wilma swooned.
Julio picked up his rake and raked the bark dust, turning it over and over in the afternoon sun. He too broke into a sweat leaving rivulets of moisture running down his bare back.
The race was on. Eduardo had the jump at the start, but Julio gave chase. Muscles flexed. Soil flew. Bark dust did whatever bark dust does. Garden bugs scrambled to their lives. Even a lowly slug crept away at an unbelievable pace (for a slug that is).
Wilma fell to the freshly mown grass and moan in ecstasy. “Oh, God. Don’t stop,” she screamed. “Yesssssssssssssss. The rake. Give me the rake. And the hoe too. Give it too me both of you. Her body writhed with pleasure. Spittle ran from the corner of her mouth and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her breath came in short gasps. Guttural sounds came from deep in her throat. Her fingers dug deep into the grassy loam around her, clutching, grasping. Until with one final scream of, “Oh yesssssssssssssssssss, I’m cummmmmmmmmmmmingggggggggggggggggg,” she collapsed from the excitement of the double penetration her garden had recieved.
The two men stared at Wilma.
“What da fuck is wrong wit her?” Julio wondered out lout.
“She a crazy bitch. She do dat alla time,” remarked Eduardo.
“Dat lady is a nut,” Julio said as he leaned on his rake.
As Julio and Eduardo watched Wilma seemed to recover. She rose and staggered into the house to collapse on the sofa.
Eduardo looked at Julio and said, “Hey. Enough of dis crazy bitch. Let’s go have a beer.”
Julio dropped his rake and the two walked around to the front and Eduardo’s strake-side pickup.
Horticultural Sex II
The old strake-side pickup rumbled and smoked down Chancy Avenue headed toward the fancy Gotrocks neighborhood and Eduardo’s next lawn job. His cell phone beeped incessantly. Eduardo glanced at the phone. “Dat crazy Wilma bitch again. Every fucking day she call me,” he groaned.
With trepidation Eduardo opened the phone. “Yeah? What da fuck you want?”
“A weed, Eduardo. There’s a weed in my roses,” came the all too familiar voice on the other end.
“Yeah? Well it will be there tomorrow too,” Eduardo said, irritated.
“Oh God, Eduardo. By tomorrow it will be ten, maybe even twenty or a hundred weeds. God, I need you, Eduardo.” The voice had become sultry at the last, almost a lustful moan.
“So? What you want me to do, lady?”
"Oh, come to me, Eduardo. Make my day. Make me blossom again. I need you bad, my love.” By now the voice was only a guttural whisper interspersed with heavy breathing.
“Okay. Give me two hours. I be there and pull dat weed. An it’s ten dollars per hour. Okay?”
Eduardo closed his cell phone muttering, “Puta!
Just under two hours later Eduardo’s old pickup truck pulled into Wilma’s driveway. After climbing out of the truck, he took a hoe from the back and walked around to the back of the house. As he reached to patio he stopped, staring.
“Hey. Who the fuck is dat?” he said under his breath.
Crouched over the begonias was another Hispanic man spreading bark dust around the plants.
Louder, Eduardo called, “Hey you. What da fuck you doing?”
Julio Rameriz stood and turned toward Eduardo. “I’m putting bark dust here like da lady told me.”
“Where you come from? Dis my job here,” Eduardo said angrily.
“I working next door. Lady saw me and ask me to come,” Julio replied, stretching his fine, tanned, body.
“Oh, you’re here,” came the voice of Wilma. “Julio is doing such a fine job, don’t you think?” Wilma’s hair was disheveled and her blouse was buttoned wrong. Her lips were pursed and her cheeks flushed.
Eduardo stared at Wilma for a moment then took his hoe to the weed growing under the rose. He hoed feverishly while Julio and Wilma watched. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged with the effort. The weed flew as if by magic but Eduardo did not stop. He hoed, breaking the soil, giving live and aeration to the ground. The roses bowed to his superhuman effort.
Wilma swooned.
Julio picked up his rake and raked the bark dust, turning it over and over in the afternoon sun. He too broke into a sweat leaving rivulets of moisture running down his bare back.
The race was on. Eduardo had the jump at the start, but Julio gave chase. Muscles flexed. Soil flew. Bark dust did whatever bark dust does. Garden bugs scrambled to their lives. Even a lowly slug crept away at an unbelievable pace (for a slug that is).
Wilma fell to the freshly mown grass and moan in ecstasy. “Oh, God. Don’t stop,” she screamed. “Yesssssssssssssss. The rake. Give me the rake. And the hoe too. Give it too me both of you. Her body writhed with pleasure. Spittle ran from the corner of her mouth and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her breath came in short gasps. Guttural sounds came from deep in her throat. Her fingers dug deep into the grassy loam around her, clutching, grasping. Until with one final scream of, “Oh yesssssssssssssssssss, I’m cummmmmmmmmmmmingggggggggggggggggg,” she collapsed from the excitement of the double penetration her garden had recieved.
The two men stared at Wilma.
“What da fuck is wrong wit her?” Julio wondered out lout.
“She a crazy bitch. She do dat alla time,” remarked Eduardo.
“Dat lady is a nut,” Julio said as he leaned on his rake.
As Julio and Eduardo watched Wilma seemed to recover. She rose and staggered into the house to collapse on the sofa.
Eduardo looked at Julio and said, “Hey. Enough of dis crazy bitch. Let’s go have a beer.”
Julio dropped his rake and the two walked around to the front and Eduardo’s strake-side pickup.
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