Everybody deserved sex. That was her motto. This week, the gardener was deserving.
She rode him hard, moving up and down with little gasps of pleasure on her lips. Her bit of rough. After all, what’s the point of a gardener you can’t screw.
They both froze at the sound of tyres on the gravel drive. ‘Shit! My husband’s home early!’.
They untangled, the gardener leaping off the bed, dressing quickly and heading for the door in one fluid movement.
‘We’ll be fine, he’ll never know’. She blew him a kiss as he ran…