Megan and I were out for a casual drink with a group of our younger friends – a lively bunch in their early twenties who we’d met through various social circles. We’d all been chatting and laughing when I mentioned in passing that we had a big landscaping job lined up in the garden: new raised beds, some heavy bags of compost, and a couple of fruit trees that were going to be a nightmare to shift on our own. One of the lads, Jake, perked up immediately. He worked at the big garden centre on the edge of town and grinned across the table. “I can sort you out,” he said. “Staff discount’s pretty decent, and I know exactly where everything is. Just text me when you’re coming and I’ll meet you there.”
We took him up on it. We arranged to pop in one afternoon, mid-week when the place was usually quieter. Megan threw on her usual weekend gear – a soft grey sweatshirt that hugged her curves nicely, a pair of snug blue jeans that showed off her long legs and tight little arse, and her favourite trainers. Nothing fancy; we weren’t expecting anything more than a quick trip for bargains and a chat. I certainly wasn’t expecting the afternoon to turn into one of the hottest, most spontaneous sessions we’ve ever had.
When we pulled into the car park, Jake was already waiting at the main entrance, leaning against the wall with that easy, confident smile of his. He wasn’t alone. Two of his mates from the same shift were with him – tall, broad-shouldered lads in the centre’s green polo shirts – and it was obvious from the way they looked at us that Jake had filled them in on exactly who we were and what kind of fun we sometimes got up to. Their eyes lingered on Megan a little longer than polite, and she gave them that playful, knowing little smirk she does when she senses the vibe shifting.
The four of us had barely said hello before two more lads wandered over from the loading bay, making it five in total. They all fell in around us like an enthusiastic welcoming committee, grabbing a couple of big trolleys and steering us through the aisles. They knew the stock inside out: they found the exact compost we needed, the right size of raised-bed kits, even suggested a couple of extra plants that would work perfectly in our soil. Bags and boxes were loaded up fast, the lads joking and flirting lightly with Megan the whole time – nothing crude, just that electric undercurrent of young-male energy. She was loving it, laughing at their banter, brushing against them as we moved between the displays.
We were out in the open area near the fruit trees when the sky suddenly darkened. Within seconds the heavens opened – one of those proper, torrential summer downpours that comes out of nowhere. Rain hammered down in thick sheets, turning the paths into rivers in moments. We all bolted for the nearest shelter: a large open-sided display shed at the back of the outdoor section, full of potted shrubs and garden furniture on show. It was dry inside, dimly lit by the grey daylight filtering through the rain-streaked plastic roof panels, and completely private from the main store. The five lads piled in behind us, shaking water from their hair and laughing at the sudden drenching.
The air inside felt charged the moment the door clicked shut behind us. Megan’s sweatshirt was clinging to her breasts from the rain, her nipples already hard against the fabric. She looked around at the circle of young men, eyes sparkling with that unmistakable mix of mischief and lust. “Well,” she said softly, voice low and teasing, “looks like we’re stuck here for a bit…”
That was all it took. Jake stepped forward first, sliding his hands onto her waist and pulling her into a deep kiss. The others moved in quickly, hands roaming over her body – squeezing her arse through her jeans, cupping her tits, tugging the hem of her sweatshirt up. Megan moaned into Jake’s mouth as someone else unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs along with her knickers in one smooth motion. She kicked them aside, standing there in just the damp sweatshirt, her smooth, shaved pussy already glistening.
They didn’t waste time. One of the lads lifted her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her completely naked in the middle of the shed. Megan dropped to her knees on the wooden floor, surrounded by them. She took Jake’s cock out first – thick and already rock-hard – and wrapped her lips around it, sucking greedily while her hands worked two of the others. The lads groaned, hands in her hair, guiding her head as she moved from one cock to the next, slurping and moaning like she was starving for it.
They had her every way in that little shed. Jake bent her over a stack of potting benches and fucked her hard from behind while she sucked off another lad, her tits swinging with every thrust. Then they laid her back on a wide wooden display table, legs spread wide, and took turns pounding her pussy – long, deep strokes that had her gasping and begging for more. One of them slid underneath her so she could ride him while another eased into her arse, double-penetrating her until she was shaking and crying out. They rotated smoothly, no one rushing, just pure, relentless energy. Cum was dripping down her thighs within minutes, but they kept going, flipping her onto her back again so two could take her mouth and pussy at the same time.
All the while I stood by the shed’s side window, keeping watch through the streaked glass. The rain was so heavy that the rest of the garden centre looked deserted; no one was stupid enough to be out in that downpour. My heart was hammering, cock straining against my own jeans as I watched my gorgeous wife get absolutely railed by these eager young studs. She was in absolute ecstasy – flushed cheeks, hair messy, moaning and cursing and telling them how much she loved being their little slut for the afternoon.
There were five of them, but one lad – a quieter bloke who’d mostly just watched and stroked himself – hung back the whole time. He never joined in, just stood there with wide eyes, clearly enjoying the show but not quite ready to dive in. The other four made up for it, though. By the time the rain finally eased off twenty minutes later, Megan was a beautiful, cum-soaked mess: covered in sweat and streaks of their loads across her tits, belly and face. She was grinning from ear to ear, legs shaky as she pulled her jeans and sweatshirt back on.
We finished loading the trolleys like nothing had happened, the lads still flushed and joking around as they helped us to the checkout with the staff discount applied. Megan gave each of the four who’d fucked her a slow, filthy kiss goodbye while I shook hands and thanked them for… everything. As we drove home with the car full of garden supplies, Megan reached over and squeezed my thigh, still tasting of them, and whispered, “Best shopping trip ever.”
We’ve been back to that garden centre a couple of times since. The lads always seem very happy to see us.
Megan’s World 