A lost art, whittling. Passed on from father to son, though in my family it had skipped a generation. I learned it from my grandfather. My father thought of it as a waste of time. Granddad taught me to use it as a thinking tool.
I had been doing this it seemed all my life. I would go to the backyard with a block of soft wood and my sharpened pocketknife and work problems through my head. Sometimes I would just daydream. The thinking and daydreams would end when the block of wood had become a discernible object. Over the years I had become good enough that some of my wood doodlings were considered works of art.
Today things were a bit different. For one thing I was in the kitchen, not the backyard. For another I was naked. My daydreams today came from my laptop. I was reading erotic stories on Literotica. I wanted to keep my dick hard.
I was not carving on soft wood today, I was carving on carrots. I had a definite finished product in mind when I started. I was making replicas of my hard dick.
My woman was the love of my life and would be the death of me. She was a voluptuous, adventurous red head with a very pronounced mischievous streak in her.
More than once she tried to get us both killed by baring her breasts to me while I was driving down a freeway. She knew I could not keep my eyes on the road when her breasts were in sight yet she did it over and over. I did not know a giggle could be evil until I heard hers.
She loved for me to take her to fancy restaurants, not because of the food or the atmosphere but because they had tablecloths. She would insist on being seated at a table by a wall and would seat me facing the restaurant with her to my left. She would arrange the tablecloth to her liking and before the appetizers arrived she unzipped my slacks and pulled out my dick.
The damn woman is ambidextrous and can eat with her left hand and jack me off with her right. My spunk is splattered under the tables of some of the finest restaurants in the city.
About the carrots, we are both rapidly approaching middle age now. We have a son that is eighteen going on thirty-five. My first complete physical exam was two weeks ago. Some of my numbers were not to the liking of that woman and she has been pestering me about my diet since.
I am a meat and potatoes man but she keeps putting vegetables on my plate.
I keep leaving them on the plate.
The worst things are the carrots. Every blessed salted snack in house has disappeared, replaced by carrot sticks.
I told her I was no rabbit and refused to eat the damn things. She swore to me I would get no pussy from her until she saw me eat a damn carrot. That was eight days ago. I am horny as hell.
So that is why I am sitting naked in the kitchen, nursing a hard on, carving carrots into cocks. I figured the only way I was going to stomach eating those things would be if they were coated with her pussy juice.
I am satisfied with two of my creations. I left a portion of each un-whittled so I had a handle for them. The carved parts were pretty close to my dick in size and shape although one ended up slimmer than the other.
I rinsed the carrots and wrapped them in a moist towel. After cleaning up in the kitchen I went to the bedroom and put the carrots under the foot of the bed.
The woman returned from shopping the antique stores late in the day and again tried to feed me Purina vegetarian chow or something. I swear if it hadn't been for my secret stash of Vienna sausage I would have starved to death.
Lord knew where my son was. I hoped at least he was getting laid.
It was Saturday night and we were getting ready for bed. That woman was wearing her sexiest nightgown, a black, very sheer gown that hugged all her curves and was thin enough to give me glimpses of tits and pussy hair.
She was definitely not playing fair. She even had a bowl with carrot sticks on the nightstand.
As I sat on the bed to begin undressing I caught the unmistakable scent of her sex.
"Well I'll be" I thought to myself, "she's as horny as I am".