Author's note: If you like this story please leave a comment. I enjoy reading them and I like receiving feedback on my writing.
This is a fantasy. Please stay safe during the pandemic.
Enjoy the story.
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The gardener.
I have always loved the smell of dirt. It takes me back to my childhood digging holes in my front yard. I loved the feeling of damp soil in my hands as I played with it, making mud pies, and getting dirty. Spending time alone in a patch of nature was nice, considering we lived in the suburbs.
As time went by, I moved to the city but my love for nature remained in my heart. I decided to take up gardening as a hobby during the pandemic. I ordered some soil, pots and tools and started a mini garden in my balcony. It kept me sane, and I had something to do aside from working as an online newspaper editor and jerking off. Sitting in a computer all day was killing me.
Watching the plants grow was nice. Even though I stayed in my pyjamas all day sometimes, I still had to get up and water my plants every now and then. In the periods I had to be isolated and felt stuck, plants reminded me that we keep growing even though we think we are not moving on in life. That 'going nowhere' feeling dissipated when I noticed the leaves turning and moving under the rays of sunlight.
After a whole year went by and I had survived the longest period of isolation in my life, my plants were looking great. Finally, I got the vaccine, but we still had to keep a distance and most of the shops in my town were selling online only. I had peperomias and monsteras going wild in my living room.
It was around that time that one of my plants got sick. The droopy leaves and bugs were alerting me that something was wrong. I looked online for the problem and decided to buy some pesticide and fresh soil from a small shop near my neighbourhood. It was organic and grown locally. I sent a message on the Instagram of the shop. They said they could send all the materials the next day.
It was a nice morning, in my old apartment. The neighbourhood was not so great, but I could afford the rent. The sun was bathing the living room in a golden light. I waited for my packed while drinking some tea in my small round dining table.
In no time, the bell rang. Because it was just a package and it was laundry day, I was wearing some cotton orange shorts and old gray printed t-shirt. My ass was barely contained in my shorts, but all I cared was comfort. The heat of Spring mornings inside those concrete walls made it difficult to keep my clothes on. I did not care about looking a certain way.
There was a knock on the door after the two bell rings, so I sprinted towards the entrance. I opened the door, and my eyes immediately went up to this tall hunk's face standing on the hall. His green mask covered his square face but highlighted his bright and round hazel eyes. He had brown wavy hair and a healthy tan you get from working outside. Unlike my pale and slightly pink body that I hadn't taken to the beach in a year.
"Hi, I have a package for Nicolás." Said a voice coming from the hunk in front of me.
Sure, you do. I thought to myself before I snapped out of it. It couldn't remember the last time I had had sex so my mind was turning tricks on me. Had it been that long? My toys in the bathroom attested to the debauchery that went at night when I had to relief myself. Only some people on the internet, where I uploaded my videos, knew the kinds of filthy things I did. All because I didn't want to expose myself like some of the people I knew that kept on hooking up despite the sanitary recommendations.
"Yeah, I ordered some pesticide and ...." I explained looking at the five kilo bags laying on the floor.
My brown eyes shifted getting distracted by the dick outline on his steel gray coveralls. I probably spent just a seconds sizing him up, but it was enough to startle me.
"a...and...some soil..." I finished my sentence in a soft voice, quickly looking away from his crotch. His hazel eyes squinted but I couldn't tell if he was smirking or just smiling under his mask.
I saw him grabbing them with ease. He carried one bag under each arm, and the bag of pesticide on one hand. His working boots were stained in the bottom with grass and dirt stopping at his coveralls. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing some strong forearms and scratches on his fingers. He looked like the kind of person that worked outside most of the time, someone who had never worked in an office and I liked that.
"Where should I put them?" He asked in a deep but mostly polite voice, waiting for me to clear the entrance. Sadly, for me we had to keep the necessary distance.
