The Picnic - Eating Fruit

What have you got there, honey?" she asked, coming up to him in the kitchen, on a late spring day in May.

"A basket of fruit, some other bits and bobs. It's a lovely day for picnic." He gestured with his head to the garden, towards the green sward of grass under the spreading tree.

"Yummy. Let me see." She reached for the cover on the basket, but he bopped her on the nose, the nose where the freckles pretended to be.

"No, my impatient darling. The fruit needs to be prepared and served properly. None of your impudent rushes."

She coyly looked up at him from under her hair. "Who? Moi? Impudent? That's your other girl, not me. I'm the responsible one, with proper responsibilities. I'm not the hasty one, not at all. She's not me, she's some other floozy. One of your many." Becoming braver, she teased him.

She flipped her hair from one side of her head to the other, knowing the effect it had on he. And on her. She blushed, just a little, knowing exactly how transparent she was. Her skin tingled, and she hoped...

He placed his hands on her hips and turned her towards him, then pushed her back against the table where she put both her hands backwards for balance, and to resist him, and to push her centre back against his thigh, to push against him as he pushed against her, and their sexes connected, her pussy wrapping around his thigh, his fullness pressing into hers...

Fully clothed, they each could feel the other's heat. Their mouths connected, their tongues tasted, and when he placed his fingers through her hair at the back of her head and took possession of her there, her mouth couldn't leave his, didn't want to, and her moan was louder than his.

"Fu...ckkk," she whispered, and she lifted her dress.

He slid a hand between her thighs, waited a few moments, and eased the hot wetness back up into her hole, opening already for his finger fuck. She moaned again, and he forced the crotch of her panties aside, pulling it tighter into a cord of cloth that pulled tight between the cheeks of her ass, pulled up against the hot puck of her anus, rubbed with an exquisite roughness against her labia, pulling the ridge of cloth sideways against the rising head of her clitoris.

Her hips bucked against him.

"Come, my fuckable darling, let's go outside. Bring a rug."

He picked up the basket, and another nearby, and a thermos of coffee; and she knew that he'd planned it, this picnic. When she wasn't looking. Which usually meant he had something else planned as well. Her nipples shot rock hard in seconds, and her heart thumped. he's plans always involved her body in some new and inventive way, and her mind would be breathless, keeping up.

She looked around and, sure enough, the rug was ready for her to pick up. God, he'd planned it so well, and still she had no idea what he was up to.

"Spread the rug here," he said, "in this dappled shade. I don't want your fair skin to burn."

She laid the rug out on the grass, smoothing it down. She slid her sandals off to feel the cool grass against her feet. She stretched up high, as tall as she could, reaching for the branch above her head. She felt the bones of her back crack, and the stretch of her muscles almost hurt. The dress rode up high on her thighs.

He reached in under the dress and pulled her panties swiftly down. "Feel the air between your legs," he said, "turn yourself on, on the breeze."

He matched the partial undress by taking off his shirt, and her teeth were sharp on his nipples as she sucked, and took little bites.

Not far away was the wooden fence that separated the garden from the rest of the world, and she remembered the arch of her back when he'd fucked her that day, stretching her arms out to the top of the fence, pushing herself back onto his thick, powerful cock. She'd screamed when she came. She was loud that day, and she was sure the old woman with the poodle knew it was her, when they nodded in passing the next day. She remembered her days. She remembered her fucks.

"What's in the basket?" She tried again.

He peeked inside, and took out a small punnet.

"Strawberries," he replied, and crushed a big juicy one against her lips, her mouth, where it dribbled and spilt juice on her chin, and made a mark on her blouse.

"Oh look," she said. "That might stain. I really should take it off and rinse it out."

He said nothing, but took another two strawberries, one in each hand, and placed them, one each, at the side of her throat where he crushed them and their sweet sticky flesh ran down her flesh, down into her cleavage.

"You're right," he said. "They might stain. You'd better go rinse it out."

And he watched she as she walked to a tap on a wall of the house, watched her as she took off the top, rinsed it, and laid it out on the lawn to dry. And he watched her as she walked back to him, wearing the dress and a dark red bra. The crush of the strawberries was red on her mouth, with sticky juicy down into her cleavage.

She took a strawberry, broke it in half, nipped both halves between her teeth to make the juice run, and pressed the two halves around his nipples, turning the fruit on his little tight buds.

They kissed again, and their skin was so sticky.

"What else have you got?" she asked.

"Apples," he replied. "Rosy red apples, like your breasts, firm and round."

He showed her an apple, and it was firm and round. He took a sharp knife, cut the apple in half and scooped out the core and the pips and made a small cup in each half, an indent in the soft flesh of the apple.

"Take of your bra, honey. Show me your apples."

She did, and now all she wore was the dress. As a tease, he undid the belt and zip on his jeans, but deliberately didn't show her anything yet. But the ridge of his cock in his pants was a promise.

She sat cross legged on the grass, the dress pulled up around her thighs. Her bare pussy and ass were on the cool grass, and her juices ran down her cracks to the earth. Her apple breasts were tipped with long, thick nipples, and he'd carved the apple flesh openings to enclose them. The fruit was cool, tightening her tips even tighter, and he pressed the halves to her breasts, turning the flesh of the apple on her nips.

"Let me," she said, and she mashed the apple halves around her breasts even harder, harder than he would, till it hurt. She crushed the apple halves in her hands until the flesh was pulp, and the juice ran down over her breasts, down over her belly.

She rotated and rotated those apples, until her tits were soaked with pulp and juice. She offered those breasts to him. "Here, darling, eat my apples."

He did, and his mouth dripped pulped flesh, until all that was left of the apple was the rosy red skin. She ate one bit, he ate the other.

"Show me your pomegranate," he said, unzipping the dress and pulling it from her. She lay back on the lawn, planted her feet wide on the grass with her knees up, and showed him her succulent cunt. She looked into his eyes as she pulled her lips apart, dipped her fingers, and started to rub.

Her eyes lit up when he got a pomegranate from the basket, which he cut in half with the knife, peeled back the skin, and ground the fruit's flesh into hers. She mashed it and ground it all over her cunt, the flesh of the fruit and the fluid of her fruit mingled and ran together, and her groin was a mess of seeds and wet and colourful flesh, all bright colours and pulp. Her pubic hair was stringy and wet, all entangled.

To reward her cunt play and her fruity spread, he stood over her and pulled down his pants, revealing his thick standing cock, fully hard for her already. She reached up for him, mewling noises coming from her mouth, meaningless babble mostly, but somewhere in the murmurings he heard the words mouth and suck and cock, but he couldn't be sure.

He reached into the basket once again, and extracted two halves of a mango that had already been cut. The pulp of the fruit was juicy and soft, and he made a cunt with the two halves and entered it slowly, cupping it around his cock as he stood over her. Juice dripped onto her face. He kneeled over her so the tip of his cock, a rich plum red, was inches from her mouth - but he backed away every time she tried to eat him. Instead, he gave her one of the fucked mango halves, pulpier now, and said, "Coat my balls with the fruit." She did, sucking and licking at the heavy fruits that hung from his wood.

Meanwhile, he found a good size banana, easily the length of his cock but fatter in the middle. He didn't peel it, but eased a good half of it into her and said, "You peel it." she gripped and gripped it with her cunt, and when he removed it five minutes later they were both astonished to find that she had indeed split the skin, and the soft flesh of the banana was streaked with her sticky silver threads.

He peeled the banana completely, bit off one end and she bit off the other, and he fucked it up into her cunt again, where the softer fruit flesh turned into a gelatinous cream, adding to the fruity mess.

"Nearly done," he said, "and then I'll fuck you while you lie on your back on the sweet grass. But first, I've got plums." He showed her his, but still wouldn't let her touch him; and from the basket, he took another. It was nearly exactly the same size as his own cock head, shining and red.

Her fingers were a mess of fruit in her cunt. She had no idea what he was going to do next, but sweet god, she'd come twice and was fingering her way to another.

He peeled the top of the plum, pulling its skin back like a foreskin. He peeled back the labia from around her clitoris shaft, and her clit was long and thick, and he made her enter the head of the plum, and he fucked her with it, up and down, a little fruity cunt all around her little cock, up and down. He fucked her with his peeled plum, and she thought, half delirious, that she was fucking into the end of his cock, she knew the shape of him so well. She came again, plum red.

She was delirious now, her body a continuing juddering shaking thing, a wreck of a woman, her skin covered by the flesh of all fruits. She knew she'd not be able to stand, but she wanted her tits to sway beneath her, to rub their weight against the grass. She struggled to roll onto her hands and knees, her succulent ass high in the air, spreading her cheeks wide.

He took another plum, as big as his cock head, and pressed it against the heat of her asshole. It didn't go in, the fruit was too soft for that, but the plum exploded on her anus, spilling its succulent flesh, feeling filthy and wet, and his tongue was glorious, fucking her ass, fucking her ass, licking the wet juice off her there.

It had all been preamble, though, a prelude, a first course.

The main course was simple, she on her hands and knees, her ravenous cunt spread wide, taken in one long, magnificent thrust. his whole shaft up her in one long, steady push, squeezing the banana flesh and the pomegranate flesh up into her, and then squeezing the fruit pulp down and out, the filthiest, fruitiest cunt lubricant for a firm, hard, swathing cock fuck, his whole weight bearing down on her, his breath coming hard like he was pumping iron, when in fact he was pumping her.

She fucked right back at him, her cunt mashed down deep onto the root of his cock, pushing back hard, as hard as she could.

"Fuck me," she whispered, her breath panting, unable to speak, "fuck me so hard, fuck me. Fuck me so hard, fuck me." Her words set up a rhythm, and she could feel his solid male strength pounding into her big strong body. Her ass bounced, her tits shook, her whole body quivered with the fast force of his fuck.

"Soon, baby, soon. You got me, You got me, your cunt's got.... me... I'm going to..."

His announcement couldn't come quick enough, those huge pulsing jets came before he could speak, spilling into her, jetting into her, filling her fabulous cunt with his fucking seed, his semen, his come, his breeding fuck.

She screamed, her own orgasm thundering through her in waves, in storms, in a blinding flash of bright light.

She collapsed onto the ground, where for ten minutes they lay heaving, their bodies cooling around them. Eventually he softened and slid from her, but he immediately pulled her ass to him, to spoon her, to sooth her aching tits. She curled with her hand between her legs.

When she could finally speak, she said, "Did I see you had coffee? I'd like a cup."

© Electricblue66 2022