Recently, I have been corresponding with a Lady - we will call her ‘Caroline’, who lives about twenty minutes from my house in Sussex. Initially, she was ‘testing the water’ - so to speak... as I discovered more about her. Caroline is a not unattractive Lady, in her late forties, tall, reasonably slim, but with curves in the right places. She is divorced, and lives in a nice, slightly remote detached home, which she used to share with her now ex-husband. From her messages, it appeared that their sex life was about as flat and dull as it was possible to be.... him being away for long periods on business, and then being a once-a-month-missionary-position-with-the-lights-off kind of guy. I thought this a particular waste, since the overtones in Caroline’s messages were adventurous and playful. And so it came to pass that on a Sunday morning around three weeks ago, I received a message, which simply said “I am sorry Sir, it won’t happen again” Some of you who have read my previous tales will recognise that phrase. It is the one I prefer to use to initiate an event. I messaged her, instructing her to tell me precisely what she had done in order for her to owe me an apology, and it transpired that on the previous day, her gardener had come to the house to cut the lawn, and trim a hedge which was overgrown. Caroline had decided to do some pruning outdoors also, and had worn a pair of shorts, with a lightweight blue patterned, loose fitting shirt and a wide brimmed hat. She had elected to wear a small pair of panties, but no bra. Not for any particular reason... purely because she felt it would be cooler. It was warm in the garden, and as Caroline moved around, her swaying breasts moved freely under the shirt... her nipples brushing against the material. As she worked, she became aware that her nipples, brushing against the material, had become erect... and that she was becoming aroused. Although she had never found the gardener attractive - and still didn’t, she found herself looking at him as he worked...his toned, tanned arm muscles and well formed shoulders adding to her arousal. She realised after some time that she was becoming less productive, focusing more on the gardener and less on her pruning, and found herself fantasising about him taking hold of her, groping, squeezing and touching her in intimate places, while she was trying to pull away from him. She also found herself daydreaming ... fantasising about when she was still married. What would her husband have done had he caught the gardener touching his wife ? ..... sent him packing - never to return, she supposed... and then turning his attentions to her, bending her over his knee for a good, hard spanking. Of course - this would never have happened in real life - he was way too prudish to even consider Corporal Punishment. Caroline walked over to the gardener and asked him if he would like a drink, to which he replied that he would like something cold. It was then that Caroline realised that the buttons on her shirt were perhaps not as fully fastened as she had first thought. The gardener did a good job of holding her gaze.... but his eyes slipped briefly down to her chest. Could he see her tits, and her hard nipples ? - oh God ! ..... he must have been able to ! Embarrassed, Caroline apologised, hurriedly fastening another button, and turned away, walking towards the back door to the house... strangely excited and elated that she had inadvertently ‘flashed’ the hired help. Backing onto the garden is a large conservatory, with comfortable lounging chairs, and slatted blinds which were down to keep the hot sun out, but with the slats open, to allow some light in. She poured a glass of ice cold water, but instead of taking it out to the parched gardener, she went and sat on one of the lounger chairs.... laying back, and looking out at the gardener, still beavering away. She undid the button on her shorts, slipping her hand inside, Into the waistband of her knickers, and began to stroke herself gently... using her other hand to pull down the zip. Slipping a finger inside herself, she squirmed, rubbing her breasts through her shirt, as her orgasm approached. Squeezing her legs tightly together around her hand, she bucked silently, pulling on her nipple. Her orgasm seemed to go on for minutes... though probably only seconds.... and when it subsided, she realised that it hadn’t satisfied her at all. Pulling her shorts down, and adjusting her position slightly, she was now looking directly at the gardener.... willing him to turn and look back at the house, and her fingers busied themselves over her throbbing clitoris. He turned ! ..... looked straight at the conservatory where she was masturbating lewdly in front of him! He stared for a few seconds, no more, then turned away. Caroline realised that he couldn’t actually see her through the blinds... but the prospect of him being able to, brought on the second, shudderingly intense orgasm of the day... her breath coming is short gasps, as she realised that the windows of the conservatory were actually open a fraction, and there was every possibility that he could hear her cumming. Realising that she had promised him a drink, she stood up, adjusted her clothing, and took it out to the man. She felt self conscious as she handed him the drink.... had he seen her ? Had he heard her cumming the second time ? - she certainly wasn’t as quiet that time around. He looked at her....thanked her, and again shot a quick glance towards her chest. Was he disappointed that she had buttoned herself up ? Caroline excused herself, went back indoors, and left the gardener to finish his tasks, while she opened up her laptop, and began to write.... still aroused, wet, but slightly confused by her recent actions.....