A pit formed in my stomach. I felt like I had been punched. I stared in disbelief at what I had just read in the paper. Under the obituaries, it was all there: her name, her photo and the details of very full life. The memories came back. She was a part of my past; a good part. I reread her obit. I was alone on my back porch overlooking my garden of colorful flowers, native shrubs, and manicured trees. She had sparked my love for gardening.
Her name was Ginger Green. At first, I called her Ms. Ginger. She preferred that over Ms. Green. My college required me to complete community service hours, and my mother suggested I try the city botanical gardens. Ms. Ginger was the first woman I met when I showed up one early Saturday morning. She pulled up in an early ’80’s two door Mercedes coupe convertibles. The top was down and she looked like a movie star from yesteryear. Her big blonde hair was restrained under a green scarf. She smiled my way as she pulled into her parking spot. She turned the car off and called out to me.
“Are you Chris?” She called out.
“Yes ma’am.” I respectfully answered.
Her smile continued as she exited the car. I shook her hand and asked if I could help her with the grocery bags stacked in the passenger seat. That scored points with her.
“Thank you for helping me. I brought breakfast for the volunteers.” She carried her purse and two bags off to the main building. I followed, carrying the rest. With Ms. Ginger in the lead, I was able to observe her from behind. Her legs were a matched pair of elegant muscle. She liked to walk, a lot, and it showed. My eyes moved up to her ass. I just knew it was like her legs under her long khaki shorts.
She caught me starring when she turned around at the entrance gate. I sheepishly looked to the side.
Ms. Ginger explained the volunteer procedures. “This is where we all go in during volunteer hours. We make sure to check in with Gus.” She pushed a code on the button lock, turned the knob and we were in.
Gus, the security guard, was housed in a small room close to the garden’s front gate. He slumped behind a glass window with theater box office holes in it playing solitaire.
“Morin’ Gus.” Ginger announced with a cheery sing-song voice.
Despite his gruff look, Gus was generally cheery.
“Good morning, beautiful director.” He sing-songed a response in kind.
Ginger pulled a small paper bag from one of the big bags she was carrying. She slid it through the wide, lower opening.
“Thank you! You are such a sweetheart.” Gus beamed. Turns out most every Saturday morning she brought him a special breakfast.
Gus saw me out of the corner of his eye. “Is this your son?” He asked.
“No.” She said. “This is Chris, my newest volunteer.”
I nodded and said good morning. Ginger had me moving along. She asked me to set up a table with the grocery items while she made coffee. The rest of the volunteers filed in. After half an hour, a pot of coffee, and several boxes of morning pastries, everyone had their work assignments. I ended up with Ms. Ginger.
She had me pushing wheelbarrows with new plants, compost, and clippings. On my last clippings dump before lunch, one volunteer told me to tell Ginger that lunch was almost ready. I added a few new plants to the wheelbarrow for the return trip and pushed them back to where Ginger was working.
I rolled up the path and saw Ginger on her knees. She was sitting up, holding a bulb, checking it, and then placing it in a bag. She had on a broad brimmed gardening hat without her sunglasses. She kept her back totally straight which made her breasts appear larger than they were. At that moment she looked like a 1950’s pinup beauty.
I put the skids of the wheel barrow down with a thud and she turned to me. Once again, Ginger caught me looking at her body.
“Are you having fun yet, Chris?” Her tone was sarcastic.
“Yes ma’am.” I smirked. “Lunch is about ready.”
“Great!” She put down her trowel and stood up. We walked to the building where we had breakfast. We made small talk, and she commented about my hard work as she rubbed my arm from elbow to shoulder.
Lunch taught me more about Ginger and the rest of the volunteers. Ms. Ginger was the social leader of this group. She was young and vivacious enough to keep the group moving. Some of the people were bitter and negative. She was the opposite with enough positive energy to negate a few of them.
After lunch it was more of the same for me. I pushed the wheelbarrow until we finished in the late afternoon. Ms. Ginger asked if I had a ride home. I told her I had my truck.
“Thank you for coming out. I hope you continue to come, we need some energy here. See you next weekend?” She smiled. I think she wanted me to say yes. So I did. “Excellent!” She beamed. “Now I am off to jump in my pool, then my hot tub.” With that she drove off. I so wanted to jump in her pool.
The next weekend I was there early again. It was another weekend of hauling with the wheel barrow. Ms. Ginger’s smile and soft flirtations were a great addition. I enjoyed the work. I was learning a great deal about plants, organic fertilizers, water, and soil types. Plus the gardens were peaceful and quiet.
I enjoyed that second Saturday so much that I became a regular volunteer. Some days I was there for 4 hours, others a bit more. One morning Ms. Ginger spoke to all the volunteers during the sugar-caffeine breakfast.
“Earth Day is coming up. We will need volunteers to help set up booths for the various groups that will be here.” Her announcement led to groans from some. There was a signup sheet. I was the first one to put my name on it. Ms. Ginger saw it. She affectionately rubbed my arm and said a quiet “Thank you.”
When that day came it was not a big deal physically, but it was a long day. We were there early and late for put up and tear down. My favorite booth was the solar power booth; they were making cookies. Ms. Ginger was zipping around the gardens like a humming bird ensuring everything was ok. We both exchanged smiles when she checked on me and a few other young guys hauling ice to various water stations.
At the day’s end I was tired, sweaty, and just wanted to hit the shower. After the last booth was tucked away in a storage barn, I was enjoying a soda with some of the volunteers when Ms. Ginger came up and thanked us for our hard work. Despite having been there all day she did not look the least bit disheveled. She gave us all hugs and then went on to find another group to thank. One guy mentioned how attractive she was for “an older woman.” We all thought that.
The next weekend I showed up the usual time. The skies were threatening rain from a cool front. I was in the truck in the parking lot when Ms. Ginger pulled up next to me. She had the top up and quickly exited her vehicle and tapped on my passenger window. I let her in. She hopped up on the bench seat. Something was different about her this morning. Her hair always looked good. But this morning it looked more like she was set for a night out, not a day at the botanical garden. I also remember she smelled amazing.
“Good morning.” She greeted me with a hug, leaning over. “We might be the only ones today. If so, and it rains, we can do a few things in one of the greenhouses.”
I secretly wanted it just to be us. We waited. No other cars showed up in the parking lot and the sky continued to grow dark.
“Shall we go?” She asked.
“Yes, let’s.” We both exited the truck’s cab and headed through the gate, past Gus, and down a path to an out of the way greenhouse. Once inside I noticed how dim it was. The overcast sky gave it a soft green light. There were empty shelves alone the perimeter walls. In the middle of the greenhouse there was a waist high pile of bagged potting soil stacked on a pallet. Some of the cold weather sheets they put over plants were neatly folded on top.
“Where is the light switch?” I asked and turn around to look back at the door we just came in. Ms. Ginger shut it.
“There isn’t one.” She said. Her voice was low and soft.
She silently approached to me.
“What do you need me to do today?” I asked with all the naiveté of a young man.
She stood in front of me; her hands reached and clasped mine.
“You need to let me thank you for all your good work.” She pulled my hands and I knew what was coming and did not resist. Her lips were soft. She had the scent of a rich perfume. I wrapped my arms around her. Her body was a fit size 6 and as we embraced I could feel her breasts. They felt like C cups against my chest.
My arms were around her, holding her in an embrace when the first clap of thunder rolled through. The lightning flashed and another clap of thunder. The heavy rain started. It made a loud rumble as the drops hit the roof.
I had to admit, this was romantic. We kissed. I held her. She wrapped her arms around my neck. My brain told me that I was kissing a much older woman, but my lips and body only focused on the woman portion. I was getting aroused.
She started pushing me back. I did not have far to go before I was sitting on the stack of potting soil and sheets. It felt soft as I eased backwards onto the pile. She climbed on top of me pushing me down. She straddled my waist and kept kissing me. I peeked and all I could see was her closed eyes and blonde hair. She was an amazing passionate kisser. In this position she began running her fingers through my hair and caressing my scalp as her kisses moved to my neck.
More lighting. More thunder. The rain continued to pour down on the roof. It was loud. This was good since she was grinding her pelvis against me. I moaned, rather loudly, as she teased my constrained hardness.
“You like that?” She asked rubbing her pelvis against me.
“Yes ma’am.” I answered.
“Call me Ginger.” Her kisses switched to the other side of my neck.
She then sat upright, rhythmically moving her hips, rubbing her crotch against mine. I loved how this felt. I loved my view, even in the dim light.
She kept gyrating on top of me. In the dim light I could see her smile and a certain happy, lustful look in her eyes. Without missing a beat she reached down and pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it. She reached back and unhooked her bra. She flipped it onto my face with a slight giggle. It smelled like her. I reached up and removed it from my eyes.
She leaned forward dangling her left breast near my lips. I could not resist. I lifted my head so I could kiss her nipple. My tongue soon was flicking it and moving around her areola. Her arms soon rested over each of my shoulders.
“Mmmmm…” She purred.
I alternated to her other breast. Both were magnificent. They were actually B cups with a sexy hint of sag. My tongue flicked her nipple which evolved into deep kisses. The kisses moved into the valley between her breasts. Her warm, soft skin rubbed against my youthful clean shaven cheeks. Her perfume engulfed my senses. Thunder rolled again.
She slid down. Her lips met mine again. She kissed me with passion. It was different from the young women I was used to. This was abashed. I could feel it. I knew what was coming next and Ginger was about to introduce me to what experienced woman can do.
“You smell good.” She whispered, she spoke just before her lips were moving down my cheek then back to my neck.
Sheepishly, and sounding like the school boy I was, I responded with “You do too.”
Her lips stopped at my shirt’s neckline. She reached down and pulled it over my head.
“Ooooo…I knew you would look like this!” She purred staring at my hairless, youthful chest. Thank goodness all of the work she had me do toned it up. She slid down from our soft perch. Lighting lit up the green house as she did a slow striptease. Slowly, rhythmically, her eyes locked on mine as she removed her shorts and panties. Her gaze made me hot. Unlike the girls I had been with, Ginger was confident and went after what she wanted.
More thunder, it shook the green house. Ginger moved towards me. She tugged at my shorts. I was so excited I felt like I was going to burst. I was so hard. My cock was aimed straight up against my abdomen thanks her earlier grinding. My shorts and underwear came right off. Ginger’s attention went to my now exposed organ. She gently reached down and lifted it up from my body. I loved the feeling of her warm hands. One hand started stroking my shaft while the other was rubbing my stomach and pelvic area.
“So Chris, did you ever think volunteering would get you here?” She asked as she broke into a smile. Before I could answer she took me into her mouth. It was ecstasy. The roar of the rain on the roof drown out my loud gasp. I watched her lips around my shaft. Felt her tongue rolling along my head. Her wrist grasped and twist pumped me.
“Oh yeah…” I moaned then inhaled deeply. She paused long enough to say “No one can hear us. Be as loud as you want.” I read between the lines. When I felt her warm tongue and engulfing lips back on my head I moaned. It was a reaction, a loud one. She liked that. My limited encounters with teenage girlfriends were not as good as Ms. Ginger. With them my encounters were secretive and had to be quiet. They were awkward and unsure. This woman was very sure of what she was doing and what it was doing to me.
“Gin—ger…ooooooo.” I trailed off looking at the green house’s ceiling for a bit then back at her. She turned her head, made eye contact with me. I felt a warm burn in my chest, it added to the tingle in my cock. Her hand grasped and rotated on my shaft in tandem with her mouth. I was hard, very, very hard. I think she could tell what was I was feeling. And perhaps what I was thinking. She released my cock and it fell back, aiming like an arrow towards my stomach Ginger reclaimed her perch straddled over me. She leaned forward.
“Are you ready?” She whispered in my ear, her breasts just under my chin.
“Yes.” I could not say much more. I was breathless. She continued and guided my cock into her. I loved it. She planted her two hands on my chest as she started gyrating. I was mad with lust. In the dim light and pouring rain this blonde woman riding me could have been 18.
“Just lay there.” She panted, not losing a beat.
I reached for her breasts, caressing their sides and pinching her nipples slightly with my thumb and forefinger.
“Oh yeah Chris….keep that up….” Her body bounced a bit harder.
I was not sure I could. I started thinking of baseball scores. That was hard. I was a young man, her full breasts so soft in my hands. Her nipples so firm. She seemed to respond well to my little pinches and slight rubbing between my fingers.
“Ooooooohhhhhh….” She moaned, her head leaning forward her body kept on me.
“Ooooooooohhhhh….yyyyyyeeeeessss….” Louder yet.
Her mouth was agape, she was silent. I felt a drop. Well, more like someone was pouring a shot glass of hot water down the side of my cock. She exploded. She was loud. Her back arched forward, her head looked straight up and her scream drowned out the rain. She then looked down at me. Her eyes were wide. They were fiery and in conjunction with mussed hair and glistening sweat I knew she was not to be denied.
“Cum for me Chris.” She commanded. It was now her turn to pinch my nipples between her thumb and forefinger. The electric shocks it sent were new to me. No more thoughts of baseball scores. I focused on her eyes looking into mine and inhaled deeply.
I saw colors. Splotches of vibrant colored clouds colliding. I was coming. Hard.
Her mouth opened with a big smile.
“Ohhh….Chris….give it to me. Give it all to me.” She pushed herself down on me and gyrated a little. I finished coming, the colors went away slowly and all I could do was moan. I think my head was still jerking around in subtle aftershocks. Her hand affectionately rubbed my cheek, she leaned down and we kissed. A deep, hot afterglow kiss of lovers.
This started our May-September romance. I kept volunteering and Ginger would have me also work at her house. Well….we did work, then we would end up in the outdoor shower by her pool washing off the dirt and sweat from landscaping. There would be flirting, fondling, and finally fucking. Once we were on the rattan sofa on her back covered patio when we heard a car door. We almost got caught by one of her grown sons.
She taught me things a young man needs to learn but is too full of himself to hear from his family or girlfriends. I learned how women like men to have a plan and not be indecisive. I learned that women like to “Just say hi” whereas men like to have a point to starting the conversation. Romance, she taught me that romance was important and so was listening.
I think in the back of our minds we both knew our relationship had an end date. I was going to transfer my junior college credits to a 4 year university and Ms. Ginger had met someone. Someone more age appropriate. We met at the botanical gardens and took a walk. She did most of the talking and I could tell this was sort of hard for her. We hugged. I heard her sniffle. She was crying. It got worse when I said “Thank you.”