Thursday, August 30, 2012

Juicy Fruit

I love the Saturday morning farmers' market in the cool fall sunshine -- the sense of bountiful harvests and memorable feasts. Friendly growers with stalls and tables overflowing with fresh ripe produce of every description -- apples and pears and tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchini and melons and plums and peaches. Homemade juice and freshly baked yummy pies too. Smiling busty farm girls, sweet and ripe and ready for plucking. My lewd imagination is easily seduced and my mouth yearns for nourishment.

She was was standing near me at a table full of grapes -- feeling the red ones then abruptly popping one into her bright red mouth. She savoured the taste briefly then licked her full lips suggestively and smiled, faintly. An elegant lady of maybe 55, sunglasses, short boyish silver hair, a few extra pounds, wedding band, designer jeans and full ripe melons straining against a too small black blouse. I watched her saunter saucily to another table where she picked up a zucchini and admired its length and shape, only to put it down for a smaller but thicker one. She slapped it against her hand a couple of times and seemed satisfied with its firmness. Still that hint of a sly sensual smirk. Following discreetly (or maybe not) I watched her squeeze melons, plums and tomatoes, and laugh lustily as she chatted with the vendors. Perfect white teeth and lots of jewellery. And a full delectable bum which made me wish I was a chair. A happy farm boy displayed baskets of peaches and free samples on a table. Glistening halved peaches on a plate, like luscious fat labia awaiting the tongue. She picked one up and gently slurped the soft golden flesh. Juice ran down her chin and shivers ran up and down my spine.

I followed at a distance and watched her load the goodies into a dark blue van. When I approached nonchalantly she was nowhere to be seen but the back door was raised open, up against a building wall. Like a bee to a flower, I was drawn inexorably and trembling to something incredibly powerful. My heart was pounding in my dry throat, my knees weak. She was half-sitting, half-laying on the back floor of her van, naked from the waist down, leaning back against the seat, long legs splayed widely apart, feet resting on the sides. A sprig of blonde maidenhair adorned her perfect mound of Venus and her pussy, a full fleshy ripe peach, glistened invitingly with desire. Instinctively and quickly I dropped to my knees and kissed and licked her ankles, her calves, the sweet spot behind her knees and her soft silky thighs. The wonderful intoxicating scent of her pussy, humid and musky, left me powerless to resist temptation. And so began the eternal sacred dance of lips and clit and tongue as I feasted upon her glorious femininity. Her breathing quickened and she mewed faintly like a hungry kitten. I licked and flicked and sucked and slurped with the fervour a starving man, kneeling on the ground reverently between her trembling thighs. So delicious and sensual, her slick velvety pussy an incredible smorgasbord of lust. Soon she tensed and convulsed, urgently but quietly, and a few gentle streams of sweet warm nectar spurted onto my grateful tongue. I gulped and swallowed and basked in that glorious moment of ultimate gratification.

She had to push me away so that she could quickly dress. As a thank you she pressed her wet panties into my hand, pecked me on the cheek, then drove away. With that sensual semi-smirk still on her flushed face. Perhaps to proudly show her husband the fruits of her trip to the market. She never removed her sunglasses and I never looked into the mystery of her eyes. But I will be back at the market next week, hopeful and ravenous and thirsty for her heavenly juicy peach.





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