James Wheaton - The playful twins

"Hello there!"

Bob Redding whirled around at the sound of the throaty voice, and gasped as he saw the beautiful girl coming down the steps. At first glance she appeared to be only about fifteen, but as she came nearer, and the molded firmness of her breasts, pushing against the soft pink silk of her blouse, became evident, Bob judged that she must be about eighteen. Her long cornsilk blond hair swept around her golden-tanned face, and she walked over to him, her hips jiggling in a jaunty coltish walk. She was wearing tight white shorts, which revealed the enticing line of her upper thigh, and Bob thought he could see a faint darkening at the vee of her legs through the almost diaphanous shorts.

"Hello," he gulped, unable to take his eyes off her swerving pelvis.

"You must be Mr. Redding," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Leslie Lansing."

Bob could hardly believe that this was the same woman who had answered his phone call. He expected someone different the Miss Lansing of his imagination was nearer forty than under twenty! He clasped her well-manicured hand in his rough one, and was amazed at its coolness. It felt like a piece of soft, finely sculpted ivory and he was loathe to release it.

"Would you care for some coffee while we talk business?" she asked, her nasal twang adding to her air of New England refinement.

He timidly followed Miss Lansing inside, feeling awkward and out of place as he stepped into the magnificent hallway of the old house. She led him into a small sitting room, where she left him, flashing a dazzling smile as she went to get the coffee. Bob looked around the room admiring the oak paneling on the walls, and the ceiling which was covered with teak tiles. Nautical ornaments adorned the shelves and mantelpiece.

There were several tanks of tropical fish, and two cages containing two parrots in each rested on matching tables. He gazed with interest at the tiny intricate ships in bottles, the multicolored shells and the stuffed fish mounted on plaques. He was rather surprised at the antiquity of the room, which contrasted very sharply with the youth and freshness of the girl who lived there.

He chuckled to himself as he thought of the wording of the ad Leslie Lansing had placed. He pictured it now in his mind

"Landscape gardener required for extensive project. Could lead to other things."

Bob felt that this job would be a turning point. His one-man landscape gardening business, which he started just two years ago in his home town of Providence, Rhode Island, right after his marriage, had not been doing too well. In fact, if this new job did not result in further contacts, he'd have to give it up and work elsewhere.

Goddamnit, he thought, even if we starve, I'm not going to work for old Lamont! "Old Lamont" was his father-in-law, and Bob grimaced at the memory of his wife's pleas, at first gentle hints, but now persistent nagging, to give up their precarious existence on his meager income and accept her father's offer of a sales position in his real estate office.

"Never!" Bob had said aloud, as he'd driven up to the huge iron gates that opened on to a long, poplar-lined avenue. "Sea Garden" the sign said, and Bob could smell the salty air through the open car window, even though the bay was not visible.

As he was still waiting, musing over what looked like an old log-book, Leslie came back carrying a tray with two large glasses.

"Do you find this room interesting?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling. Bob was again struck by her dew-like freshness and the superb carriage of her perfectly proportioned frame. His eyes stole down over her swan-like neck, and he stared, until his eyes were straining, to catch a glimpse of the cleft of her smooth, undulating young buttocks.

"Actually," she continued, without giving him a chance to answer, "it was Daddy who collected all these things, but now he and Melissa live in the Bahamas, so my sister and I live here alone. Melissa is my step-mother, you see," she added quickly, smiling her brilliant smile at him as she motioned him to join her at the small round table. She was a little out of breath from her long explanation and Bob could see her breasts heave faintly and her lips were slightly parted as she recovered her breath. A tingle coursed swiftly through his body and then was gone, almost before he was aware of it.

He seated himself comfortably in the captain's chair, and sipped his iced coffee.

"Mmmmm, this is great!" Bob said enthusiastically, "What's your secret recipe?"

"I added a little borage," she said. "It's an herb we have growing in the back. C'mon, I'll show you!"

Bob followed her out of the small room. The material of her brief shorts slipped into the crevice of her rounded bottom as she walked, and again, Bob felt a rush of pleasure sweeping through him. His cock leaped in awareness and he could feel it growing along his leg. He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and knead the enticing cheeks of her buttocks in his hands but just then, they went through some French doors and out onto a patio. He was aware of Leslie pointing out the view to him, and tore his eyes reluctantly from the tight moons of her creamy flesh. Before them was a spectacular panorama of the bay, and Bob thought he had never seen anything as beautiful in his life. His gardener's eye assessed the perfect harmony between the surrounding area and the grounds of the mansion and realized that in the past, great expense and effort had been expended to achieve the present result. Leslie led him over to a small patch of cultivated ground near the patio and began to identify the many herbs for him. Almost lovingly, she pointed out the small blue flowers of the borage, the delicate white buds of the balm, the multi-mauve blooms of coriander and the more familiar yellow flowers of dill and fennel. As she named the different plants, Leslie knelt down and gently touched each bloom with her fingers. Bob remained standing and sucked his breath as the girl leaned forward to point out the pink blossoms of the sage. He could see directly down the top of her blouse, to where the butter-colored tops of her young breasts pushed up out of her lacy pink bra. He could almost feel their tender softness and the warmth of the secret valley cutting between them. His prick wakened again, this time more insistently and he felt sure that at any moment, she would look up and see the telltale bulge. Kneeling down put an extra strain on the already tight shorts and Bob could just barely see the outline of the fleshy folds of her pussy. A tiny wisp of golden pubic hair curled around the tight leg band of her shorts and Bob's eyes were riveted on the escaping fleece. His eyes burned in his head and he could not release his gaze from between her thighs, as if in hope that his staring would strip away her protective clothing.

His own groin was maddenly alive with sensation, and he began to feel the perspiration breaking out on his face. The muscles of his thighs felt like cruelly stretched rubber bands and his stomach was a churning knot of tension. His discomfort must have been mirrored in his face for Leslie looked up at him and said solicitously, "Are you all right, Mr. Redding?"

Her bright green eyes flicked over his trembling form, and rested briefly and a trifle daringly on the tremendous bulge of his cock, before returning to his face.

"It's just the sun I guess" he stuttered, feeling as inept as a schoolboy.

"Let's go inside where it's cooler," she urged, taking him by the arm and propelling him inside. Her touch magnified the tumultuous feelings inside him and he gratefully sank into the over-stuffed leather armchair in the sitting room wondering why he was reacting so strongly. Leslie disappeared and quickly came back with a glass.