0 comments/ 35424 views/ 1 favorites Cucumber By: astray She felt His fingers squeeze her throat and tears sprung to her eyes. She had been trying to avoid His eyes by staring at the TV across the room. But now, she could not avoid His eyes as she tried to pry His hands from her neck. He yanked her up to His face and hissed, "What did I tell you to do?" She had completed the task, but some part of her resented her needing Him. She'd wanted to upset Him. She just hadn't anticipated the fierceness of His anger...or maybe she had. It was easier if He forced her compliance and worse when she submitted. In the supermarket, she had felt Him even in His absence. The cucumber was supposed to be wide enough to spread her wider than she'd ever been spread but not large enough to cause damage. She kept reminding herself that He was not really there. This cucumber was long, but too slim. That one was wide, but too short to hit right. Were the people around her wondering what was taking so long to pick a cucumber? She took a surreptitious look about. No one appeared to be watching her. In fact, they all seemed as engrossed in their fruit or vegetable inspection. This made her wonder if their picks would also be used for something other than eating. She sucked in her breath when she saw it. It was bumpy and fat. It looked like a thick cock covered in a cruelly ribbed green condom designed by a sadist for a twisted combination of pain and pleasure. She turned suddenly and headed for the register her heels clicking sharply as she marched with determination. She looked down at the sole cucumber not quite fisted in her hand and felt her face flush. Her clit had started a slow throb. By the time she got home, her need to cum was making her actions uncoordinated. Having scrubbed the cucumber, she clumsily pushed the skirt of her suit and her panties off as she walked up the stairs and stumbled. Making it into the bedroom, she yanked the comforter to the floor, and then lay back on it. Knees bent, she reached down and spread her pussy lips. Her hole was small, but she was so horny and wet, she knew getting the cucumber in would be no problem. She pushed it in. Tearing pain stopped her. Her back arched off the floor as she felt her walls stretch. She didn't pull it out, though. She just stopped pushing it in. Her knees open, she rocked from side to side and gave her clit some slaps. She pushed again. This second attempt had her screaming aloud. Her pussy was resisting. She stopped and slowly pulled the cucumber out. Lubrication. She got some warming massage oil and squirted so much on the cucumber that once she had it coated, she had a hard time maneuvering the slippery tube. On her back, she pictured Him at His most sadistic. Then she opened her thighs, held her pussy wide with two fingers and just shoved the cucumber in in one swift stroke while she pushed her hips toward it. It still hurt. Her scream was louder than the first, but this one subsided into moaning. She was holding the cucumber in while her pussy adjusted. Bit by bit, sensations other than the ripping pain penetrated. She felt the bumps. Her hips began to move. She eased the cucumber out and then back in her tight hole. Her hand alternated between squeezing her nipples and rubbing her clit. Her pussy juices began to leak down the crack of her ass as she continued the steady thrusting into her. It wasn't enough. She flipped over onto all fours and began to jut her pussy back like she was being fucked doggy style. That made the cucumber hit something and her whole body stiffened as her pussy tried to squeeze the cucumber as the orgasm gripped her. Gasping for air, she leaned forward with her cheek against the floor and slowly pulled the cucumber out. She stayed there with her ass in the air and her pussy wide until she breathed normally. Turning onto her back and forgetting that she had put on the massage oil, she licked the cucumber. The taste of the oil made her sit up and move too quickly to go rinse her mouth. She stopped abruptly when she felt the soreness in her pussy. She walked gingerly to the bathroom and cleaned up. Making her way down to the kitchen, she washed, peeled, and cubed the cucumber. She pulled out her salad bowl and added spinach, tomatoes, feta, and her cucumber. Tomorrow's lunch was ready. The memory playing so rapidly in her mind froze. Her face was flushed with the blood trapped there. Her hands grasping at His were ineffective in alleviating the vice on her throat. "Yes, yes! I did it!" was screaming in her mind, but the vice prevented the words from escaping from her throat. Her small hands clamped on His wrist and tugged, pulled. Her burning eyes tried to plead with Him, but her reaction seemed to satisfy Him not make Him want to stop. While the rage in His face slowly dissipated, the tightness on her neck didn't. She twisted and tried to pull her entire body back. His body followed with such force that His large frame slammed her back against the wall. His face closed in on hers and just as His teeth sunk into her bottom lip, He released her neck as His torso held her in place. She was allowed one gulp of air before His mouth closed on hers and sucked it back out. It was a bruising kiss punctuated with animal like bites to her lips. She heard the TV turn on. He lifted His mouth from hers, but kept His face mere inches away as He spoke. "I like how you screamed," He whispered just before she heard herself screaming. Her eyes moved to the TV where close-up images of her face and her cucumber-filled pussy were being played. Cucumber Lover I come from a family of carnivores. I used to be one myself, so I really can't judge or condemn, now, can I? I don't remember when it exactly happened. But just the thought of eating something's blood, of eating body parts, of gnawing on bones...it makes me ill. Take ribs for instance. "Ribs." I shiver at the recollection of how I would sit at the dinner table with my brothers and parents and help devour racks of "baby back ribs" without a problem. Now my stomach turns, and I have to fight off the nausea just thinking about it... The same goes for chicken. Chicken legs, chicken breasts, chicken wings...chicken thighs... Eggs--little unborn baby chicks... So, I live a peaceful existence, alone with my two cats and my herb, vegetable and flower gardens. That's how I make my living, selling my produce. I live in a quiet country community on the north shore of Long Island. My house is set on a quiet lane, not at all typical of the suburbia molding the rest of the Island. There are lots of trees: Maple, Sasparillo, Oak and Dogwood. Lot's of birds; grackles, morning doves, starlings and chickadees. Squirrels, bunnies. I even have a family of raccoons living on my property that I feed each night. Although I'm sure they would stop raiding my garbage cans if they realized I'd put out the bread and cheese on purpose...They seem like a very proud lot. My neighbors are very nice also. But for the most part I keep to myself, except for an occasional chat in the middle of the lane or while doing yard work. Or when they come over to buy my vegetables and flowers. Conversation usually scrapes the surface, "Boy, it's hot!" or in the winter time: "Can you believe all this snow??" And that's about it. My flowers and vegetables and herbs are a hit Island-wide. My medicinal herbs are harvested and dried and stock the shelves of local natural food stores. Oh, all right. I have to confess. I sell recreational herb as well... But even that is considered the finest in the area. It isn't even classified as homegrown. For the most part, my life was (past tense) fairly simple, very peaceful and not at all cataclysmic--up until last week. The change occurred as I sat in my front yard flower bed, knees and hands stained brown by the fresh earthy soil. I watched in stupefied fascination as "the new family" moved into the empty house located just diagonally from my little cottage. Their's is a big house, with a wrap around porch and white picket fence. My dream house, so to speak. I watched a bit dejectedly as the movers pulled out twin beds, bedroom furniture painted white and trimmed in gold--the kind I had when I was a little girl. Three bicycles--the black one larger than the other two which were painted purple and pink--also surfaced and were rolled into the garage as I watched on in wistful fascination. Finally, the "new kids on the block" pulled up. It was near dinner time and I was calling it a day when the gold Volvo wagon rolled up to the curb in front of the house. I swallowed thickly as I watched the man I assumed to be the father (although he little resembled anything my dad ever looked like) step out from behind the drivers side door, one long, jean clad leg at a time. He stood up and seemed to tower over the car, stretched his arms out ward, as if unfolding his cramped body after his long drive. He wore a black t-shirt that clung to him like a second skin, accentuating the muscular ripples of his finely chiseled torso. I felt myself grow warmer than I had been all day sitting beneath a hot sun as I watched him. I don't remember if I closed my gaping mouth before or after he turned towards me and smiled. I only know that when his blue eyes settled on me, my body temperature raised another ten degrees. He nodded and offered a very confident grin before focusing his attention on his two children as they clamored out from the back seat and shrieked with glee at their new home. I watched as he walked away, blushing as I settled my green eyed gaze on the way his jeans molded his firm behind. Then, God help me, I had a vision of him, naked, his long hairy legs as muscular as they promised to be, his arms, biceps promising strength reaching out towards me. Then and there I almost fainted. I waited until the trio entered their new home before I attempted to stand. It was a good thing too, for if I had tried earlier I wouldn't have made a good impression at all with my new neighbor. All of my strength had been sapped, just by gazing at him. I sighed as I struggled to my feet, wondering how in the world one smile could leave me so weak-kneed. And what, I thought wickedly as I entered my home through the side door, would happen to me if he ever touched me? Little did I know how close I was to finding out. Monday started out the same as any other day. I harvested flowers and vegetables from the gardens and placed them on the wooden stand by the side of the road. There were nice lush bunches of romaine lettuce and spinach. Beautiful deep orange carrots, thick cukes and zukes, juicy red tomatoes--beefsteak and plum. There were only a few eggplants I felt were ready to sell, a few peppers and some scallions. It was then I thought of him again. Putting out the cucumbers. For some reason the meaty vegetables made me think of my new neighbor, and I blushed profusely with the thought. Lost in the daydream of what it would be like to make love with this man, I didn't even realize I had been caressing the cucumber, almost lovingly. I don't know how long I stood there, gazing down at the vegetable not seeing anything but my neighbor's blue, blue eyes, practically feeling his breath on my neck, my body as he kissed me, touched me... "Excuse me?" I jumped and dropped the cucumber, whirling around to greet the first cucumber of the day. I mean customer. "Cucumbers are my favorite too." Laughter warmed the deep voice of my new neighbor as he chuckled. I almost fainted for the second time in two days as I turned to stare into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes I had ever seen. My knees nearly buckled as one of those eyes closed slowly, thick black lashes caressing my entire person as he winked at me. I gulped audibly and nodded, speechless. For him to confess such a thing at that moment was more than I could bear. The sensation causing my weak knees traveled upwards. I was now weak thighed as well... After stammering some incoherent greeting I bent down to pick up the cucumber, making sure to set it on the stand to avoid any further fondling on my part. He introduced himself, needlessly explaining that he and his two daughters were now my new neighbors. He may have given me their names, I'm not sure. All I know is that I shoved three cucumbers, a few tomatoes and a head of romaine lettuce, scallions, peppers and an eggplant into a paper sack and handed it to him along with a bouquet of wildflowers. "Welcome to the neighborhood," I managed to croak out. Speaking was the wrong thing to do, obviously, because that drew his attention to my mouth. Which isn't by any means my best feature. But he obviously thought so. I say obviously because he couldn't take his gaze from my lips, even after I finished speaking. I licked them nervously, feeling dryer than the Sahara Desert and he smiled again, blinking very slowly. Very slowly. When he opened his eyes again I could see there was more than neighborly friendliness glowing there. And that weak kneed feeling traveled right up past my thighs. He took the bag of goodies and waved at me, then turned and sauntered slowly back across the street, never looking back. He was wearing black jeans today, and a loose Hard Rock Cafe tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off at the shoulders. I drank in his image, from the top of his head, noting with appreciation the pony tail of brown hair resting at his nape, the broad shoulders, cute buns and strong legs. And then I caught a glimpse of his shoeless feet. Nice, strong looking feet. That weak-kneed feeling melted the rest of my body. Never before had I laid my eyes on such sexy feet... The rest of his body turned me on as much as his feet did, I learned the next day, when he appeared at my kitchen screen door just after 7 a.m. I was sitting at my butcher block wooden table, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of herbal tea: still dressed in only my sleeveless cotton shorty night shirt. "Hi, neighbor." I nearly dropped my mug, sputtering a greeting back to him as he shaded his eyes to peer into my kitchen. I saw his shadowed form, outlined by the bright sun behind him and felt myself grow numb and hot and cold all at once. I stood up as he apologized for startling me and I said something stupid back. I can't remember what it was exactly. Oh, yes. I believe I asked him if he needed more cucumbers... He laughed and said no, what he needed was milk for his daughter's cereal. I hesitated for a moment, then invited him in as I walked to the refrigerator in answer to his request. I felt his blue gaze watching my every movement as I opened the fridge, got the milk and then poured some into a pitcher I pulled from the cabinet over the sink. I felt his eyes as if he were actually touching me! I felt him caressing my naked feet, my calves, the backs of my knees (always a sensitive spot for me), my thighs...And then I froze. At that moment, as I was reaching up to get the pitcher, I realized how short my night shirt was. It was very short. I also recollected that I wasn't wearing any undies. My body grew hot immediately as a blush colored me from head to toe. I whirled around to find him leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed over his hairy naked chest. He was wearing a pair of swimming trunks, a baggy blue pair. Nothing more. Except that damned smile. It was my undoing. I handed the milk over to him, and of course he had to go and touch me with his finger tips, didn't he? His long tanned fingers caressed mine ever so slightly as he accepted the milk. Then he smiled at me again, a warm friendly smile. "Thanks neighbor. See ya later." And then he was gone. I sat at the kitchen table for quite a while. Unable to move, unable to read, unable to drink my now tepid tea. I sat there unable to do anything but think of my nameless neighbor, the one who ate cucumbers and gave his daughters cereal and milk for breakfast... Luckily, one of my regular customers Mrs. Casini came by an hour later, tapping lightly on the door and hollering for me. I jumped up from the table and faced the door, where she stood with a concerned look on her wrinkled, loving face. She had come for her herbs and was surprised the farm stand wasn't stocked yet. "You feelin' alla righta?" She still had her Italian accent even though she'd lived here most of her life. "Just wonderful," I muttered, angry with myself for wasting the whole morning. I pulled the herbs from the store room, gave them to her, accepted her payment of three dollars and waved goodbye. Then quickly I ran into my bedroom, scowling at my unmade bed, yanked off my nightshirt and threw on the first article of clothing I touched hanging in my closet. A gauzy Indian-style sundress. Since I'm not overly endowed I could get away without wearing a bra, and I didn't even think to put on undies. I just had to get out there to stock my stand before the customers started coming. I loaded up my cart and headed around to the front of the house. That's when I saw him. My stomach instantly filled with a flock of butterflies, Monarchs, from the feel of things. You know, the big ones with the black and yellow markings? He was working on his motorcycle in his driveway, just cleaning it, from the looks of things. His back was facing me, and I noticed (with a strangled gulp) that he had not added anything to his attire. He must have heard the cart because I had barely made it across my lawn when he turned and waved. I nodded back at him and put my head down, concentrating on not dumping my precious produce. He dropped the grease stained rag he had been using to clean his bike and headed down his driveway, across the street and straight to my stand, joining me just as I stopped the cart. "Late start this morning, hm?" He threw me one of those lazy grins and I just nodded, attempting to avoid his gaze by staring at the empty shelves. He picked up the three heads of romaine lettuce and put them on the top shelf. Then he placed the spinach next to the romaine. On the bottom shelf he placed the tomatoes, onions, eggplants and peppers. I just stood there, staring dumbly as I watched how he lovingly placed the vegetables in their new resting places. "I normally put the leafy things on the bottom.." Talk about a dumb response. "Not one for new experiences, eh?" He had picked up a cucumber as he said this, and for some reason his question unsettled me, made me a bit defensive. "That's not true." "Good. I like my women to be open minded." He placed the half dozen cukes on the center shelf. My women??? "Where would you like me to put these carrots?" My neighbor shot me a questioning glance, although the amused smirk on his finely shaped lips detracted from the innocence of the query... "Next to the cukes would be fine." I could barely find the strength to answer him, let alone tell him what to do. He came around the cart to stand beside me. As he bent over to extract the zuchinis from the cart his well formed upper arm brushed against one of my breasts, whose nipple was already arched achingly in his direction. He paused for a split second, to glance over his shoulder at me with one eyebrow raised. I blushed and he chuckled, stacked the zukes and then straightened up to face me. It was then I noticed that his eyebrow wasn't the only thing that had been raised... I offered my thanks and we just stood there staring at each other. He nodded and grinned that damned grin of his again. I wracked my brain trying to remember his name. Nothing. "So where do you grow all of this stuff?" He picked up the cart's handles and started back towards the driveway. I followed, wondering if I could trust myself enough to invite him in for a cup of tea. "Out back. Want a tour?" That should be safe enough, no? While we were standing among the vines and greenery I figured out a way to get his name again. I extended a hand and offered nonchalantly, "I'm Chrys, in case you don't remember." He smiled and took my hand in both of his. "I remember." He turned to walk towards the cucumber patch, choosing to keep my hand in his big brown paw. My shoulders slumped as I watched my only chance to learn his name slip away. He bent down, pulling me beside him since he refused to let go of my hand. "I love vegetables." "So I noticed." My voice was a bit gruff, disgruntled as I was since I didn't even know his name. "I imagine you do too, no?" Good looks and brains. This guy had it all. I nodded and sighed. He straightened up, pulling me with him and as we walked back towards the house he gave a shout of laughter. I followed the direction of his gaze to my "herb garden," and I smiled in return. "Good ole Cannabis. I should have known." He laughed again and put an arm about my shoulders, squeezing tight. He held on to me, which was a good thing, for I would have fallen had he let go. He smelled so good. He felt so good. I wanted him so bad... "How about a cup of tea?" He looked at me with narrowed eyes. "Too hot..." He stared at me, that unsettling blue gaze like bits of sky peeking out from beneath his dark lashes. I gulped, something I was becoming quite adept at since meeting this man. "Iced?" I answered brightly. That would be better anyway, for I was too hot already. It was with that thought I questioned his response to my original offer and I blushed once again. "Iced would be perfect." He led the way back to my side door, opening it for me to pass through. Only then did he release his hold on my hand. We prepared the tea together, he following my directions as I informed him which container to use, where the tea was...As we worked he spoke about his two daughters, Cleo and Daphne. He spoke about their mom, who had died shortly after Daphne was born. He asked me about my name. "Christine?" "No. C-h-r-y-s." I offered in a short answer. My name was always a touchy subject with me. "Short for---" he leaned against the counter and watched me fumble my way through the rest of the tea making task. I cracked the ice cubes out of the tray into a bowl, taking some of the blocks and filling two ice tea glasses. He caught a couple of the cubes that missed the bowl, tossed one in the sink and brought the other to his lips. I tried not to watch, honestly. But it was too tempting... his lips curved about the cube in a smile as he noted where my attention focused. "Short for---?" He asked again as he sucked on the cube. I was suddenly very very thirsty. "Chrysanthemum," I whispered. He chuckled and shook his head, tossing the cube in the sink. While the tea brewed I gave him a quick tour of my home, apologizing for the slight mess since I'm not much of a house keeper. "I'd rather be outside in my garden." "Your gardens are beautiful." "Thanks. It gives me a real sense of peace, working with the soil, watching those little sprouts grow... Seeing the fruits of my efforts..." I smiled dreamily, proud with my achievements. He nodded and took a seat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table loaded with gardening books. It was a small living room, so I had three choices. I could sit on the floor, sit beside him on the couch or go get the tea. I went and got the tea. When I came back I noticed my nameless neighbor hadn't moved except to put his head back along the couch and to close his eyes. I placed the tray on the table and sat beside him. He smiled and moved his arm down from where it rested along the back of the couch. He placed his hand at the small of my back, just above where my bum sank into the cushions. I looked down at the iced tea, wondering how I was going to move, lift the cup, drink the tea and swallow without dropping something or choking. As if he read my mind my neighbor sat up, leaned forward and lifted a glass to his lips. I watched as he sipped slowly, nodding in appreciation. Just as I had decided I should make a move for my own glass he lowered his and offered it to me by placing the delicate rim of the glass against my lower lip. I accepted eagerly, needing to fill my mouth with something to get my mind off of what I really wanted to do with my lips. He tipped the glass and dribbled some of the tea into my mouth. I found his actions very, very arousing to say the least. No man had ever fed me, let alone helped me drink. He tilted the glass a bit more, causing too much tea to flow out. It dribbled out of the glass and down my chin, soaking my neck and the v-line of my dress. He chuckled and apologized, although I don't believe he meant it. Then, as I reached over with a shriek to get a napkin he captured both of my hands and shook his head, just as he leaned his head down towards my mouth. And then, he kissed me. Briefly, but enough of a kiss to still my actions. It was wonderful, electric, soothing, satisfying, teasing. Too short. Too quick. His lips came away from mine only to move lower, to my chin, where he softly licked at the tea that had dribbled downwards. He followed the tea lower, down my chin and jaw, down my neck, lower towards the neckline of my dress. I swallowed thickly and sighed, bringing my hands upwards to thread my fingers through his hair. I pulled the tie from his ponytail and loosened his brown locks, running my fingers through his curly locks as he concentrated on nibbling and kissing the soft swell of my breasts. I leaned back as he pulled the straps of my sundress off my shoulders. I wriggled out of the dress as he pulled it down around my waist, baring my breasts and their perky little nipples. He caught one of them between his teeth, while his hand came up to gently squeeze the other. His actions fanned a fire that had been smoldering since I first laid eyes on him. I moaned, a primative sound that started deep within my heart, and he gave a gutteral groan in response. Next thing I knew he was lifting himself up and before I could open my eyes I felt icy cold liquid spilling over my breasts and belly. I shrieked and tried to sit up but his hand placed just below my neck, just above my breasts, held me down. When I opened my eyes I caught sight of his head bending over me and felt his tongue licking up the mess he had just made. Cucumber Lover "Now," he murmured, "you see why I prefer iced tea over freshly brewed..." "I think I tend to agree," I answered breathlessly as I arched my back, offering him better access to my body. His hair fell about his head, caressing the skin of my belly, my ribs, teasing my aching breasts, as his hands moved softly, slowly, tantalizingly over my body, down my legs, up under the skirt of my dress. I tried to remember if I shaved my legs last night, and prayed I had. His fingers massaged my thighs, the backs of my knees, up my thighs, drawing ever nearer to the spot that most desired his attentions. His mouth moved lower, with his tongue now dipping in and out of my bellybutton, while his hands moved higher, his thumbs applying pressure in spots I never thought were sensitive. The inside of my thigh, the inside joint where my thigh connects to my torso. Oh, God, that drove me crazy! And just when I thought he was going to focus his efforts on satisfying my very real, very urgent needs, he sat up and straightened my dress. I looked at him in bewilderment, unable once again to say a word. He laughed at me and informed me he'd rather make love to me the first time in a bed. I nearly swooned with his direct statement. "Can I at least go make it first?" I have this thing about getting into an unmade bed. He laughed again and nodded. "I'll busy myself in here. Two minutes." Two minutes later he joined me in my bedroom, carrying the tray that held the glasses of iced tea. He set the tray on the nightstand by my bed and that's when I noticed it held more than just the glasses of tea. "Uhh. If you're hungry I can fix you something to eat." "I'm hungry. And if I'm not mistaken, I think it's all ready fixed." He chuckled and sat down beside me on the bed. "And if it isn't it will be soon." I eyed the assortment of vegetables on the tray. The plum tomatoes. The carrots... The cucumber. I shivered with a vision I had of things he might be planning to do with that cucumber... "Didn't notice any meat in your fridge." He took a sip of his ice tea, eying me over the rim. Again, I gulped. It seemed the only thing I could do to find my voice anymore. "I don't eat meat." For some reason that comment made him smile. "Ahh. A vegetarian." He held up a carrot, studying it carefully before handing it to me. "Carrots your favorite?" I shrugged, not sure how to answer him. I ignored the carrot. My response made him chuckle and he laid the carrot back down, then picked up and handed me a cucumber. "My favorite," he informed me. "Yes. You told me already." I wished he would be as repetitive with his name as he was with that tidbit of info regarding his love of cucumbers. He set his glass on the table by my bed and grabbed my thighs, scooting me so I laid down on my back. Then he leaned over and laid the length of his hard body on top of mine. Chest to breast, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh. He grabbed my hands in his and lifted them up over my head as he kissed me deeply. His tongue delved into my mouth, plunging, searching, raping me senseless. He ran his hands down my arms, over my elbows, down towards my breasts, capturing them and kneading them through the flimsy material of my dress. I gasped at the sensation. With another soft chuckle he was kneeling between my thighs stripping the garment from my body. He licked his lips hungrily as he studied my naked body. His gaze alone destroyed any reserve I had, not that I had even thought about saying 'no' to him. He could do anything, anything and I knew my body would respond. Oh, my, how it would respond... He took his ice tea again and began pouring little rivers across my breasts, starting at my pebble hard nipples. The rivulets made a pattern down and around the firm mounds of flesh, tracing paths over my ribs as they rose and fell with each deep breath I struggled to take. He filled my navel, dribbling water down my belly, my hips, soaking the hair and flesh between my thighs. After he put the glass down he proceeded to dutifully clean up his mess. I wriggled and squirmed as his tongue and lips licked up the tea, every last drop of it, beginning with my breasts and moving slowly, oh so frustratingly slowly, down my ribs, my stomach, my hips. Just when I thought he was going to provide me with the relief my body sought he picked up his head to study my flushed face. "Want more?" He whispered in a strained voice. He wanted more. I could tell. And he was holding back. Just for me. "You know I do." I whispered back, unable to find the strength to speak. He smiled and slipped a finger inside me. I was totally unprepared for that and gasped with his action. His thumb found my clit and he caressed it rhythmically as he slipped a second finger deep inside of me. I found it hard to breath, to think. To move. Luckily my body has a mind of its own. I felt my hips lift of their own accord, then settle down and lift again, searching for a release. His hand moved with me, guiding me, aiding me in my quest while his other hand moved along my taut belly, up towards my breasts. He rested his palm flat just over my left breast and smiled, and I knew he felt my heart beating wildly. He smiled, almost sadly, and I couldn't understand why. Then, as if he had poured an entire pitcher of iced tea over me understanding came. Slowly, he removed his hand from inside of me; leaving me aching, cold and totally unsatisfied. I remember thinking, "Hmpf. Just like all the others. Get me to the brink and then plunge ahead ..." I watched him move away from me, and was vaguely surprised when he didn't stand to remove his bathing suit. He obviously was more than ready to take me... Instead he reached for the cucumber. That blessed, blasted cucumber again. His smile was no longer boyish, or sad. It was now devilishly set, his white teeth bared slightly as he watched my expression change from dismay to disbelief. He knelt between my legs again, and the last sight I took in before closing my eyes was the top of his beautiful head of hair as he brought his face towards my belly tracing a path downwards with his tongue. He inhaled audibly and that was the last sound I heard. Blood pounded in my ears, my heart pounded in my chest as I felt teeth, tongue and lips nuzzle, lick, suck and bite the most intimate, most tender and at the moment, sensitive, part of my body. I moved beneath him, lacing my fingers through his hair, needing something to hold onto as I soared towards the peak of my ecstasy. He moved away for a moment and then I felt it. At first I thought it was him, his hardness, parting my lips in one cool slice. But then I realized I was wrong. I opened one eye and found my nameless lover once again kneeling between my legs, still clad in his trunks. His hands were moving artfully and when I focused down there I saw what-not who-was driving me insane with pleasure. His beloved cucumber. I cried out in horror. I'd never done it with a cucumber before! And I tried to tell him so in no uncertain terms. But when I looked up at my neighbor, saw the amusement in his blue eyes, I knew it was okay. He pushed the vegetable deeper and I felt the walls of my cunt contract around it, welcoming it, even! I moved with him. Erm... I mean, it. I moved until I felt the first tremor of orgasm start soft and sweet, in the pit of my belly. Like a rock tossed on a still lake it rippled, further and further. My nails dug into the sheets and mattress as I searched for something to hold onto. I opened my eyes again and watched as he slipped out of his shorts. He was hard and stiff and rearing up like a stallion looking for his mare. And I was more than ready to ride him. In one quick motion he pulled the cucumber out of me, moved on top of me, filling me as well as the cucumber had. Only this time muscles and body melded with his, skin enwrapped skin, flesh became flesh. We moved together, my hands no longer needed the sheets. I pressed my palms, my nails into that firm ass I had been so hot for since he moved in. It was just as hard as I thought it would be. We moved fast and furious, then slower, but just as hard. And I came again, not a soft rippling orgasm, but a throbbing, exploding crescendo. It wracked my entire body and soul. I moved and shuddered and felt him do the same. He rose above me, thrusting, moving, ramming hard and deep inside of me. So deep I felt as though he pierced me clear through to my heart. Finally spent, he collapsed on top of me, and I took his weight, his warmth, the length of his body and welcomed it, blossomed beneath it like one of my little cucumber chutes blossoming from beneath the weighted earth. We lay quite still for a while, and then he rolled onto his side, his hand tracing circles over my belly, my thighs. "You've given the term vegetarian a whole new meaning for me," I offered tentatively, not sure what to say after making love with a cucumber and a man whose name remained a mystery to me. He groaned as my hand followed his lead and plucked the hairs on his belly, as it followed the path downward past his navel, to his groin where all was peaceful again... for now. I let my fingers do the walking and picked up the peaceful guy, cradling him lovingly in my hand. "But now I'm wondering if it wouldn't be so bad to try eating meat again. At least one more time..." It was my turn to smile as he surrendered by falling onto his back with another very loud groan. I sat up and dipped my head toward his "cucumber" and just as I came a hair's breadth away I remembered something that was now very, very important. I looked up, and cleared my throat to get his attention. He lifted his head and stared at me with a lazy grin. "By the way..." I smiled impishly at him. "Do you have a name?" He laughed out loud then before answering. "Yeah. Gardener. Richard Gardener. But..." I raised my brows in surprise for two reasons. First, for the coincidence of his last name and my profession, but also because of how quickly he grew to fill my hands. I looked into his laughing eyes, then down and then back up to his face again, impatient with him to finish his last sentence..."But?" He chuckled once more. "But my friends call me 'Meat'." And with that said I turned back to my main course, content, after all, to eat meat. And maybe even gnaw on the bone... --the end-- Cucumber Salad I didn't know Tom too well, although he had worked under me on the project for six months. We were both about the same age, late 20s, but we were from different offices, and things had been so hectic that we had been working 18 hours a day and snatching as many hours of sleep as we could. Finally, we got caught up, got the project staffed up, and the programmers were cranking away. Things were going fantastic, and as we were able to return to normal eight hours days. It felt like a vacation. I had time then to get caught up on job administration. On a lazy Friday afternoon, when all the clients and most of our staff had already left for the day, I wrote a little excel macro to analyze the expenses my staff had turned in, and that's how I caught it—Tom was double charging the project for a lot of travel expenses: airfare and car rental, mainly. It had been going for nearly the entire time he had been on the project. He was directly charging the expenses through the firm's travel agent, and then he was also charging in the receipts on his time reports. He was subtly altering the amounts and the dates, so they wouldn't exactly match the expenses that were directly captured. I guess he thought he was pretty smart, and maybe most project managers aren't as anal about the expenses as I am, but early in my career I had a client who went over the expenses with a fine-toothed comb, and the unpleasant experience of being caught in a mistake had seared my soul for eternity. So, I had to fire him. It was crystal clear. I called him in, and told him straight out that he was a thief, and that he was fired. I told him the firm's lawyers would decide whether to press criminal charges. He cried. He wept like a baby. He begged me to give him a chance to make it right, and to repay what he had stolen. I was hard-hearted. I hate a thief. I kept telling him, no, no, no. But then, said something that caught my ear: he said, you can have anything you want, you can have my girlfriend! I had been working so hard for so long that there had been no nookie whatsoever in my schedule. I vaguely remembered seeing his girlfriend, who, I gathered, traveled to the job location every weekend to see Tom. She was a lot older than he was, I recalled, and pretty slutty looking. "What do you mean, I can have your girlfriend," I said. "I mean, you can fuck her whenever you want," he answered. Well, that was pretty clear. "Why, how, what the hell is going on that you can say that?" I demanded. Tom looked extremely relieved. "You can fuck her however, and whenever, and wherever you want," he said. "What the hell are you talking about," I asked. Now he was smiling a little. "Bambi and I have a, well, a special relationship. Trust me, you can take this to the bank." "You're full of shit, you scumbag thief," I said. "Ok, don't believe what I'm saying, but come over tonight and see for yourself." I thought it over. This was so bizarre. "Ok, scumbag. I'll call your bluff. 7 o'clock. We'll see what we do about your job and the police, but you're going to pay this money back immediately," I said. "I'll go write a check right now," he answered. "And, Dave, thanks, man, I promise you won't regret this." "Get the fuck out of my office," I said. At 7 o'clock, I knocked on Tom's apartment door. We were all in the same apartment complex, in essentially identical apartments. "Come in," I heard Tom call. I pushed the door open. Tom was sitting on the sofa, and Bambi was butt naked, kneeling between his legs, obviously sucking his cock. She didn't stop her cock sucking, but just continued slowly bobbing her head in Tom's crotch. Even from behind, I could see that she was a big-tittied full body gal. Her long blonde hair was done in two pig tails on either side of her head. "Hey slut," Tom said, "I told Dave he fuck you whenever he wants. Stick your finger up your ass if that's true." Bambi reached behind her, continuing her cock sucking, and wet her middle finger of her left hand in her pussy, and then slid it up her own ass. Tom beamed at me, and said "See?" I guess I looked pretty stupid, with my mouth hanging open. Tom said "ok, bitch, that's enough for now, I think Dave wants to fuck you." Bambi let Tom's dick slip out of her mouth with an audible pop, and then stood up. I noticed that she kept her finger stuck up her butt, she got to her feet kind of awkwardly using only her other hand. She had great big knockers, and shiny bald pussy, with some kind of stainless steel hoop through the area around her clit. She smiled at me and just stood there, waiting, I guess, for further instructions. I used Bambi pretty hard for about the next hour. Tom just sat quietly in a chair and watched. I had never fucked in front of anyone else before, but I kind of enjoyed mistreating Bambi in front of him. She pretty obviously enjoyed the abuse, and I guess i was trying to get a rise out of Tom. I started off having her blow me for a while. I never can come while getting head, but I like it all the same as a warm-up. While she was blowing me, I berated Tom some more, and told him what a scumbag he was to try to steal from the company. He was contrite, just kept saying how sorry he was, and how he would never do it again. I stood up at that point, took one of Bambi's pony tails in each first to immobilize her head, and really plundered her throat with my cock. She gagged, and her eyes watered up, but she didn't try to pull away. Then I made her lay bend over the shitty little pine breakfast table and fucked her up the ass. I asked her, while I had my dick stuffed up her butt, if she knew that he boyfriend was a scumbag thief, and asked her how it made her feel to get sodomized to get him off the hook. She said she deserved it, because she was a filthy tramp who loved cock. She told me that I could punish her ass with my dick whenever I wanted to, because Tom said so. I shot off in her ass, and made her clean my dick off with her mouth. I told her to go french kiss her boyfriend. Tom didn't like that, but he went along with it. I made them show me their toys. The way these kinkmeisters were carrying on, I just knew they would have a big inventory. Sure enough, paddles, handcuffs, giant dildos, butt plugs, vibrators, enema gear, all kinds of clamps, and quite a slutty wardrobe. I kept saying "what else, what else do you use?" They got into it, and started me telling stories. Cucumbers, carrots, squash, the gear shift lever of a car, mouse traps, string, thread, rubber bands, clothes pins, you name it, they had used it. In fact, somehow Tom had picked Bambi up in the produce section of a grocery store. You'd really think this kind of thing only happens in porn movies, but, honest to god, the shared sheer eroticism of a cucumber somehow led to their horndog antics. I told them good night, and said I would hold off for now on firing Tom, and that Bambi was going to have do whatever I wanted. They were both all smiles as they assured me that I could do whatever I wanted with her. I decided that Tom needed to suffer for his crimes. The next night, I went over to Tom's place again. Bambi answered the door stark naked. Tom was sitting on the couch having a beer and watching a baseball game. I made him turn the TV off, and told him that having fun with Bambi was good and all, but it didn't punish him enough. I told him he needed to make amends for what he had done. He asked me what I had in mind. I told him he was going to do whatever I said, or I was going to can his ass. I had brought over some supplies. Five minutes later, Tom was naked, on his knees and his face on the floor, ass in the air, his hands cuffed behind him, and Bambi was working a small cucumber into his ass. I told that only his spit was allowed for lubricant. As I hoped, the first round of the cucumber going in and out of Tom's mouth didn't get it wet enough, and it had to make a return trip to his mouth. Finally, only the little green tip of the cucumber peeked out of his butthole. I had Bambi make him a butthole chastity belt out of duct tape. We couldn't have him losing the cuke. We got him to his feet, and made him walk into the bathroom, I made him lay down in the tub. "Piss on his face," I said to Bambi. Tom's expression was classic. Bambi looked back and forth from him to me, but he gave a tiny nod, and she clambered into the tub and squatted over his face. "Open your mouth," I ordered Tom. He complied. "Piss in it," I told her. She let go, and squirted piss in his mouth for a good three minutes. I kept telling him to swallow it, and made her stop so he could catch up with the flow. Finally, she was done. I told him I was going to fuck Bambi up the ass, and I want Tom to get her asshole nice and juicy with his tongue. She lowered her butthole to his mouth, and I let him slurp on it for a while. I took Bambi into the kitchen. I put big steel binder clips on her nipples, which really made her wince. I gave her a cucumber of her own and told her to go stand in the corner and fuck herself in the ass with it until I told her to stop. While she was doing that, I screwed two steel eyebolts into the little table. I went over to Bambi, and stopped her cucumber action, and secured her wrists behind her with velcro restraints. I let her over to the table, bent her over it, and secured short pieces of string from the binder clips on her nipples to the eyebolts. Now she couldn't raise off the table more than an inch without tugging the crap out of her nipples. I went and got Tom, and brought him into the kitchen to kneel by the table where he could see Bambi's face. I put bulldog clamps on his nipples, too, and tied strings to the Bambi's clamps. Then, I really worked over Bamb's ass. I started off with just my hand, but after a while, my palm was sore. I switched to a ping pong paddle. Then I tried a yard stick I had picked up. It was really whippy. When I finished, Bambi's ass was crimson and swollen. I dipped my cock in her pussy for a bit. Her pussy was a total swamp. Then I took her up the ass. She was really wincing as I slapped her ass with my thighs. When I was done with her, I untied Tom's nipple strings and made him lick the cum out of Bambi's butthole. Then I made Tom hold the cucumber in his mouth and fuck Bambi's butt with it. After about fifteen minutes of that, I made him push the cuke in as far as he could, and then I duct-taped his neck and torso to the table, gagging him with the cuke and holding it up her ass. Then I whaled on his ass for a while with the yard stick, until it was as red as hers. I uncuffed her wrists, and let them to free themselves the rest of the way as best they could. It wasn't too long after this that Tom quit, anyway. It was just as well. He could hardly look at me after what I had made him do. I really hoped that Bambi had lost respect for him. He didn't deserve her. A couple of weeks after Tom rolled off the project, I found a grocery bag on my desk one morning. It contained a nice big fat cuke, a small container of Crisco, a plastic ruler and a post-it note with an address on it.