"Here," mum said placing the two weathered wicker baskets -- probably hand woven by my nan around the Second World War - into my hand. There had to be some sort of sentiment behind them, as she still insisted on using them even though they were coming apart around the rim. "You need to fill at least these two if you want both cherry jam and a cake tomorrow," she said. "And take that --" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "useless boyfriend of yours with you."
My boyfriend, Will was in my room, just above the kitchen, where we stood and he was actually fixing something on my laptop so he wasn't being useless at all. I rolled my eyes at mum but decided to keep quiet.
No boyfriend could ever live up to her standards, no matter how I gleamed them, as according to her, they were all just 'teenage boys, full of testosterone who would have sex with anything that moves.'
She was absolutely paranoid, that he will get me pregnant. I understood why she was overly cautious though. She got pregnant with me when she was barely eighteen and had to marry my dad. They love each other and in my nineteen years I have never actually heard them quarrel, but I know that part of her sometimes wondered, whether she did miss out on things, being a mother and a wife that young.
She had the birds and bees chat with me when I was twelve and when I started dating Will a year or so ago she dragged me to the GP and put me on the pill.
"Oh, Norah," she called after me before she resumed peeling potatoes for lunch, "your dad needs the car in a bit so you need to take the bikes."
"Great mum, it's already 40 degrees outside."
When I told Will, how we have to spend the morning he wasn't overly joyous.
"Can you even ride a bike, city boy?" I've asked him. He was from a small town less than ten miles from my village and he either drove his parents' car like I did or we took a bus.
He gave me a cross look. "You think I've grown up on video games?"
"You think you have grown up? Aww." I chuckled. "You're still a little boy," I teased. He was actually one year and four months older than me.
"Says the little girl, who still has about fifty cuddly toys on her bed." He often mocked me about them but have to admit, this time it was a touché. He was exaggerating, of course. I only had my favourite ones on my bed, less than twenty of them. The rest - yeah easily another thirty, I have never actually counted them -- were occupying the top of my wardrobe.
I play-wrestled Will into the pile of them on top of the bed and picking up the monkey with the extra long arms -- a birthday prezzie from my cousin -- I wrapped his purple monkey arms around Will's neck.
"Just be careful what you say about them or they will kill you in your sleep." The kind of deep alien voice, I adopted was hilarious and we both started laughing as I mock strangled him with the soft monkey arms.
I straddled him victoriously bending over his chest, pinning his arms down, into the pillows. I felt his cock stiffen under my weight and he froze, giving up resisting.
"That is kinda hot," he said grinning.
"You are such a dirty perv." My mock-shock face was apparently hilarious too as his grin widened even more. He started moaning deeply and buckle underneath my weight. I would have thought he was taking the mick if it wasn't for his steel third leg.
"You know, you have to finish what you started," he said suggestively.
"We haven't started anything, have we?" I lifted the monkey up as a puppet and looked into his purple face as if I was talking to him then I animated him to shake his head. Then we both turned to Will. "Only if you apologise to mr Monkey and his friends." He has called me childish so I played along.
"I didn't say anything bad about them," Will said propping himself up on his elbows. "I looove sharing the bed with them."
"In that case..." I purred, then using the monkey's hands, I went on to unzip his fly and unbutton his jeans. When I freed his delicious erect penis, I ran the soft monkey hands up and down his shaft.
Quick as a lightning strike he snatched the puppet out of my hand and threw him into the corner. "That was just getting weird," he growled.
Yes, it was probably time to drop the childish shenanigans. His cock was deliciously inviting and I had to have a taste.
"We have to keep it quiet though, mum is in the kitchen," I whispered pointing downwards.
He wasn't paying attention at all anymore. His eyes were shut and was moaning to the rhythm of my hand sliding up and down his shaft. I freed his balls from his boxer and started massaging them with my left hand, while I was sucking his mushroom head gently squeezing just below it.
Will was only my third boyfriend and only the second guy I had sex with so I wasn't overly confident when it came to sucking him. But what I lacked in technique I made up for in enthusiasm. I loved giving blowjobs and Will was always a very grateful receiver. His response was encouraging and he was eager to teach me new things.
I had asked him at the beginning of our relationship to show me how he likes to be stroked. He wasn't shy and he wanked in front of me a few times to try to teach me how he liked to be touched.
"Nice and slow to start with," he had said, looking into my eyes as he obscenely ran his hand up and down. I never forget the look on his face, so full of lust and burning passion. And how he grabbed my hand and we jerked him off together. Then he shot one long line of cum on my purple flowery bedding. I reminisced over that time and that memory made me smile with his cock between my lips.
It felt powerful to be able to bring him so close to orgasm then when he was close, slow down again. And repeat it until his eyes shot open and there was the potent mixture of anger and pleading in them.
He loved the anticipation and the edging. He said most girls my age were just happy being a starfish and I drove him wild with my friskiness.
This time we didn't have time to play long unfortunately. We had to get on with the cherry harvest. I've let him finish in my mouth which was a special treat even without the usual edging.
When I swallowed the last drop of his cum, he sat up and reached for my breasts.
"It's ok baby, we can play later. Let's get on with the damned cherries." I said, as I wasn't turned on that much. I couldn't really let myself relax with mum in the kitchen. I preferred to wait till the evening, when we could lock my bedroom door and my parents were watching telly loudly in the opposite side of the house.
As it was very hot outside and cycling in jeans is not the most comfortable thing I've offered a pair of my brother's shorts to Will. Guys are so lucky, almost every single one of them I knew was a size M. They can wear each others clothes any time they like. Yet they never seem to do that. None of my friends were the same size as me. Not a single one of them. Even though I was a healthy size 10-12 I had bigger boobs and wider hips than most of them. So annoying.
I had a yellow summer dress on with short style panties underneath, in case the breeze caught my dress, I didn't want to flash any motorists on the way.
I was riding my good old white mountain bike. It was nearly ten years old, but dad kept it in a top notch condition and Will was riding my brother's black one which was noticeably more weathered. My brother was a bit of a daredevil and liked to go on off road trails with his best mate (who was btw the best looking guy in the village-just saying). Will put up his nose at it's condition and I explained to him why it was slightly muddy and wrecked. When he heard that Jo, my brother used it for off road it made him feel a bit of a badass and a kind of macho smile spread on his face.
"It's not going to fall apart, don't worry." I said as we hopped on and started pedalling towards 'Wine hills' as the place was simply called as most villagers had vineyards or orchards on the slopes.
It was about 15-20 minutes on the bikes. Mostly on unused dirt roads.
It was very hot and dry with only a few trees lining the side of the road offering very brief but much welcome shade.
My maternal granddad used to be a farmer and had owned lots of land. He passed away, when I was twelve and nan sold almost everything except this small plot which was on the south side of the hill. I believe it was an acre of land and it had a large vegetable patch -- normally potatoes and marrows -- a few rows of wine-grapes, and a peach and apple orchard. It was all crowned by a majestic and giant cherry tree on the top of the hill. It was easily thirty feet tall and wide.
As we rode the bikes up the dirt road we reached the edge of a small forest and I told Will the story, how, one day when our parents were planting vegetables, my brother and me wandered off into this forest and came back with a handful of leverets. Dad was angry as he said they were too young and will not survive. But we fed them with tiny rubber teats and cow's milk and all three of them has grown into adult size hares. Unfortunately they weren't like domesticated bunnies and they remained wild and feral and one night they've escaped by digging a tunnel under the fence.
When we finally reached our plot we put the bikes against a nearby apple tree and I started picking cherries into the basket standing on the ground from the lower branches. There wasn't much on them. Then I remembered that my uncle had come a few days ago with my cousins and they must have picked those branches.
"It's much better up here anyway," Will shouted down from high up on the tree. when I told him I was coming up.
The trunk was enormous, I could just about wrap my arms around it. There was a small metal stepping stool at the bottom which was normally left here around fruit picking season to help pull oneself up to the lower branches.
I was already high enough to look down onto the rest of the orchard. Granddad really thought about planting these trees. They provided our extended family with fresh fruit all through summer. First nice tangy red apples, - I think they were called Discovery -, then the cherry late June, beginning of July, then peaches in August and winter apples last. They were less juicy and fragrant than the summer ones but they lasted till the first frost on the trees and all throughout winter in out pantry. Nan's apple pies were to die for.
"God, you are way too high up," I told Will when I pulled myself up to the next row of branches. They were still very safe to climb, thicker than my legs. I used a metal hook to hang the basket on a branch and reached up to pass another one to the daredevilish boyfriend.
He reached down squatting, his toned leg muscles flexing as he tried to keep his balance. Looking down at me, his chocolate brown disheveled quiff hung into his sunkissed face putting some very dirty ideas into my mind.
"Do boys always have to be such show offs?" I scoffed when he was back to his flaunty heights. "Please don't climb up that high, Will. I'm not good with blood and broken limbs."
When I was thirteen, I have fallen off a friend's horse, skinned my leg and broke my ankle. The pain and all the blood made me sick and by the time my friend came rushing from the other side of the paddock I was sitting in my own blood and vomit.
I kind of had a crush on that friend before, but needless to say I couldn't look into his eyes the same way again.
"That is not how you prove your stupid masculinity," I yelled up the tree as he was still climbing higher completely ignoring me.
"The cherries are the best, sweetest, darkest red on the top," he shouted back down.
"Yeah... You know what else is dark red? Your fucking blood!" When he still ignored me I knew there was only one way to get him to a safer height. "I said that is not how you prove your masculinity." I looked up to him suggestively.
He finally looked down, "How then?" His smirk read I know exactly where this is heading, but whatever, tell me, little girl
"I can think of a few ways... " I looked up to him with a crooked smile.
