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“Yeah,” Bethany nodded before shaking her head with a sigh. She stood and turned to face me. “You can always say a prayer Gus’ll let you swallow his cock tonight. Say one for me too.”
Gus, Blood Moon in October
She was hiding somethingfrom me.
I could tell by the way she kept leaning against her rake, taking deep, audible breaths. Her worried gaze bounced between me and the orange clouds to the west. Every time she’d open her mouth, she shook her head and went back to spreading compost around the broccoli, cabbage, and cauliflower seedlings we’d spent the better part of the day planting in the winter garden patch.
The tomatoes, zucchini, and summer squash were still producing so much there was no one left to “gift” them to. Still plenty of green beans, too—at least on the plants the bugs were kind enough to leave us. The berries ripened in their thicket, and I couldn’t wait to eat my fill. I wanted to stuff Decca’s mouth full of their ripe sweetness, letting the juices run down her chin.
Fuck. Not this again.I couldn’t keep from lusting after my wife.
The sheer number of swollen orange pumpkins in the adjacent wattle-fenced patch promised a very festive night for trick-or-treaters. Decca had promised to make her famous pies for Thanksgiving. Swore they were so much better, not justfrom scratch, but homegrown, from a blend of Seminole, Blue Hubbard, and Sugar Pie pumpkins.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the texture and consistency of pumpkin pie was so gross it wouldn’t matter what type of pumpkin she used.
If these seed packets were correct, in 90 days, when the cruciferous veggies were ready for harvest and we were well beyond those frosts needed to sweeten the produce, we’d have some stinky, gas-producing, gross veggies to last through whatever witchy holidays she wanted to celebrate this winter.
And while I was by no means a veggie lover, I was proud of my accomplishments. I’d eaten the fruits of seeds I’d planted.
I was officially a garden nerd. The massive extent to which I’d thrown myself into research and study about vegetable gardening, hügelkultur, and soil health was somewhat concerning, not to mention, a weak substitute for other, more pleasurable activities.
“Ah, you don’t want to put too much on the new ones next to the beans.” I said as Decca pitchforked another pile of compost from the wheelbarrow.
Her hair must have snagged on a branch or bramble vine because one side of her ponytail stuck out sideways. A streak of rich soil highlighted the top of her left cheekbone and, with those bare feet and that loose black linen dress that highlighted her bralessness, she was a sexy Earth goddess this afternoon.
I wanted to pull up her skirt and bend her over on the potting bench.
I wanted to run my rough, splintered, filthy hands all over the pure white velvet of her skin as I took her from behind. I wanted to pin her against the wall of the garage and pull her legs around me as I buried my cock in her ripe pink cunt. I wanted her screaming my name as her orgasm left her shaking and limp around me.I wanted to stay out here until midnight, watch her ride me, writhing in the light of the moon, her arms wild and free above her head, the berry-stained peaks of her little tits bouncing while her sacred womanhood milked the fucking soul out of my body through my cock.
I swallowed and turned away. Partially to hide the guilty look on my face, partially to hide the swelling in my pants that had sprung up just thinking of plowingherfield.
“Gus?”
“Um, it might be too much nitrogen.”
“Oh, good thinking. Because the beans…”
“Are nitrogen-fixers. Yeah.” I hid my face in shame and plunged my hands back into the weeds and crabgrass that were trying to invade the grape tomatoes.
I yanked on the deep taproot of a dandelion. I’d faced Decca’s wrath before when removing the dandelions.The BEES, Gus! Think of the BEES!But if I left them all to populate the veggie garden, soon there’d be no veggie garden. Besides, I needed to yank something, and it didn’t feel right anymore, jerking off to the thought of my wife when I couldn’t bring myself to touch her.
I dug deeper.Where was the end of this thing?I plunged the thin, serrated weeding knife into the hard soil between the rows, cursing at the monstrosity of this plant.Was this a new breed of dandelion?What if, when I finally pulled it up, the root came up looking like an ugly baby and screaming bloody murder?I adjusted the angle of my hand on the wooden handle, attacking backhand.Just a... few... more... jabs.The plant loosened, finally, but I was determined to get the whole thing.
“Gus?”
A ha! Almost there. Just a few…
One more stab into the concrete-hard dirt and… The knife slipped. Its dull serrations missed the root entirely.
I’d hit something else.
I saw the blood almost before I felt the impact—bright red oxygenated blood pooling into the dusty bark-brown soil, dotting that now-shredded taproot I’d been feverishly demolishing.
“Fuck.” I sat back on my heels, not looking down at my hand.
“Gus, oh my God.” Decca rushed over, crouching at my knees, pulling my bleeding hand into hers. “Can I look?”
I nodded. I hadn’t chopped off a finger, but this was no paper cut. The absence of a sudden sting coupled with all that free-flowing blood told me the damage I’d done needed more than a BAND-AID. I could feel the blood pulsing out of my hand, emptying me of every last drop. I couldn’t look. At least this was a beautiful place to meet the Lord. Memorial hymns ran through my head.
