1 comments/ 108033 views/ 18 favorites A Girl and Her Veggies Ch. 01 By: chrissiegirl Marie loved to masturbate. She loved vegetables, and her vegies loved her (with a little help from me)! First, we met in the desert.... Eight of us spent a month and a half in a remote corner of the Southwest digging holes in the sand looking for traces of Indian civilization. We lived in tents up a little gorge where there was shade. We didn't shower much, and the nearest washing machine was two hours away. It was fucking hot, dusty and sandy. We could manage a bucket of water each day for bathing. We were, to put it mildly, informal. Marie came from the East Coast. We'd never met, but we had corresponded a little since I was in charge of the logistics of the group. She'd sent a picture, which was nice. When I picked her up at the airport, she looked good. Tall, dark, French blood. Big eyes, small breasts, long strong legs and a quick smile. By the time we drove four hours to the site, I was entranced. After a week of digging, we circled each other like two magnets–just a little flip one way, and we'd slap together so hard you'd have to pry us apart. I had a policy of discouraging romance on these expeditions–it seemed to just cause trouble. I was the leader and was supposed to set an example. I tried, really, I tried. Our attraction was clear to us, and to the others, and also our dedication to what we were doing. After all, I thought, there would be plenty of time afterwards to get together. We kept our distance for about a month. Then, Marie got cramping in her legs and a very sore back–big girl down in a small hole all day long, long legs bent every which way for hours. Dehydration. She had to take the afternoon off. Before dinner I stopped by her tent to she how she was. Our tents were scattered up the gorge and hers was the last one, the only one past mine. She said her legs were still tight and her back was giving her trouble. I offered to give her a little massage after dinner. As I walked to Marie's tent I wasn't thinking "sensual massage". After all, the girl was in some pain. In fact, I wasn't thinking at all, except it would be neat to be a little more intimate and quiet with her than we could be on the site. We had talked now and then when she passed my tent–she woke me when I overslept a couple of times, and we'd stumbled up the gorge together after having a few beers at dinner, but that was as intimate as we'd been. Her tent was roomy, and her stuff was neatly packed around the edges, and she had a comfortable pad and fluffy sleeping bag. It smelled of her. As usual, she was in a tee shirt and shorts, but when I looked closer these weren't the usual working shorts, but soft, short cotton ones with an elastic band. Her dark tan line faded just a little below the shorts, and so by the time her legs disappeared behind the cloth, they were pure white. It wasn't the usual tee shirt, either. To begin with, it was clean and smelled like laundry soap. And it wasn't just a regular tee, but soft, light cotton that draped like fog around the gentle curves of her breasts. (Marie didn't wear bras; her breasts weren't big enough to require them, and she couldn't be bothered in this heat with any more clothes than necessary). We spoke a little, and then I began massaging her back. The small of her back and her thighs were tight, so I began there. It wasn't going to work to avoid her butt, so pretty soon I was kneading her buttocks with my hands. She had a great butt, just big enough, nicely rounded, soft and strong at the same time. I gave her thighs a thorough going over, and down her legs to her feet. Her feet were slim and amazingly soft considering how hard we were working. She began to relax quite a bit. I lifted her tee shirt up to her armpits to rub her shoulders and back, and she dozed off. While she slept, I gently rubbed her, tracing with my warm fingers down her back, buttocks and thighs, down to soft heels and long toes, and I continued gently rubbing her until she stirred. By that time, I was in love. She was thoroughly relaxed and sleepy, and I asked if she wanted to turn over. "Yeah, my stomach is really tight! Can you do that, too?" Certainly. I rubbed her belly, deeply, and felt her pelvis relaxing. I traced her muscles down, over her shorts, my palm brushing against her pubic bone on the way to her thighs. Her legs relaxed and her feet fell open, like a cat in the sun. Then I massaged her face and neck and shoulders, and came down over her chest, and her breasts, just avoiding her nipples at first, but then rubbing them with my palms. For the first time I'd seen, they stood up, defying the heat that had melted them into soft patches in the day. The gentle curve under her soft cotton shirt sported two little points. I rubbed her belly again, lost in thought. I wanted to continue, but beyond this point we could not pretend any more–the magnets would slap together. Was I ready for that? Marie dozed off again, and so again I traced her body gently with my hands until I lay down my head next to her and fell asleep. The next day, we had changed. We knew that it was inevitable we would get together, and we both enjoyed the sweet certainty of watching a flower bud, knowing that nothing would prevent it from opening. The others had begun to look on us as a couple, and waited, as we did, for it to really happen. When they said, "You two can do the dishes tonight," and we didn't protest a bit. Waiting became tedious, unnatural, and few days later we "opened the bud" ourselves. Marie had a little cramping that day, and asked for another massage after dinner. When I got to her tent, she had her usual candles burning, and she also had a little spread in front of her bed–a bottle of red wine, some crackers and a small stash of cheese she'd hidden in the fridge. She flashed her irresistible French smile, "I've been saving this since we got here–we'd better finish it up before we leave!" We had a couple of glasses of wine and talked and flirted a little–we felt like an "item" and it was nice! Then I began the massage, sliding her tee up to her armpits, and working her back and shoulders then down to her butt and thighs, and gently her feet. When she was "done", I asked her to roll over, and instead of pulling down her tee, she just rolled over, a little sleepy, but warm and cozy–and half naked in the candlelight. For a moment, I thought of protecting her modesty and pulling down the tee, but a little smile on her lips told me that she had done that on purpose, and her nipples, puffy and large, told the whole story. I straddled her hips and gave her a slow, sensuous massage. Her eyes stayed closed, her lips open and smiling. I gently rubbed her nipples, breasts and traced her lips and large eyes, and lay next to her while my hand traced her body, wandering around her breasts and sliding down to her belly again, and then over her shorts. She wiggled a little, and pulled her arms down to push her shorts down and I slid them the rest of the way. She laughed and sat up and pulled off shirt before collapsing again. The patches of white between her tan lines were clear and bright in the candlelight. Creamy breasts with dark nipples, and white thighs broken by a thick patch of soft dark hair. My hand found its way over her soft patch and fell between her legs, brushing her fresh, white thighs and gently pushing at the door to her private delights. For a long time, I stayed outside the door to her pussy, until the flood inside began to leak, and the swollen guardians at the gate relaxed their vigil and let me pass. Inside it was wet and hot everywhere. Her labia were not large; they were small and compact and very smooth and glistened. Between them her clit slipped out, and danced around my fingertip like a gypsy around a fire. Marie had high cheekbones and a large sensuous mouth, which was lazily held open by her gentle breath. It wasn't long before those gentle winds grew to a noisy storm that rocked the tent, then for a moment settled into painful little moans, and groans and happy whimpers before growing strong again, strong and regular, like the march of a symphony; and her legs opened and thrashed, she gasped and shouted, and then collapsed and pulled me to her, to shower my face with kisses. If someone had come looking for me that last week, they would have found my tent empty. They might have guessed where I was. So, every night until we broke camp, Marie and I would disappear up the gorge to make love and sleep–wrapped in a confusing combination of blankets and sleeping bags. Some nights we began slowly, sipping the wine and gentle kisses. Other nights we made love quickly, and fell hard asleep. Every night began with my hand slipping softly between her legs, and dancing with her wild gypsy. Marie liked to masturbate, she told me, and she liked to dance with my finger until she was wild and crazy and wanted my cock so very badly she would grab me with all her might and pull me on top of her and my stiff cock would find its way in the dark, without help, and slip through her tuft of black hair, thrusting and devoured in the heat within. And in the dark night, laying relaxed in the sticky mess of our lovemaking, Marie told me her secrets...She had not been with a man for almost three years, since she was in graduate school. She didn't want a relationship. She said she loves masturbation. "My sex life is really very satisfying", she added, and a thrill went through me. I lay there thinking, "hmmm, is there more?" There was. Marie told me that for most of those three years she's had sex regularly with her roommate, as short, tiny blonde named Cindy. She went to a school were lots of the girls "got together", so it wasn't so strange. They weren't "a couple" she said, they were friends who liked to have sex—especially Cindy, who was pretty much always eager to satisfy Marie. "How can I resist?" Marie said, "she's very cute and cuddly, and she knows exactly how to turn me on! Actually, many nights having sex with Cindy is a little too intense, and so I just masturbate. Well, actually," she laughed, "Cindy usually masturbates me herself." My fantasies went wild. I guess every guy has lesbian fantasies, and for me it's a real turn on to be with a woman who makes love with other women. Ok, so I'll tell you the truth—sometimes when I'm making love with a woman I actually fantasize that we're two women together. Marie's hands and tongue and lips had known only the soft fleshy folds of another woman, and when we made love, my fantasies felt very real. In our quiet moments, she held me like a woman, kissed me like a woman, and smiled at me like a woman, before we both erupted into the ecstatic thrusting of our undeniable, and uncontrollable sexual passion. Ah, but the title of this story is "A Girl and her Vegetables." Vegetables?? What about the vegetables? One night we lay talking, and Marie talked about how much she liked to masturbate, and I asked what really made her most horny. Well, she said, just before coming out here, she got this thing about vegetables..... A Girl and Her Veggies Ch. 02 The night we reached civilization, we went to a market and bought a perculiar collection of veggies. We took them to our room, and I spent the next hours masturbating Marie while she ate snacks and watched TV..... Our sex in the tent was, I suppose, a little unusual. We began each night like our first: Melissa would lay herself down, naked, or with panties only, and I would sit beside her and slowly, almost clinically, masturbate her. I would begin with the soft swells of her chest, her small but distinct breasts, and carefully pinch and rub and tweak her nipples until they were red and swollen with pleasure, and only then would I slip my hand between her thighs and slowly work my fingers deeper and deeper into her, until finally I pressed and stroked the prong of flesh protruded from between her lips. Melissa lay there, passive and quiet on the outside, but her body, though it hardly moved, engaged fully in the passion. I would have smothered her with kisses an thrown my body on top of hers, but instinctively I knew this was what she wanted, what she craved, and always, once satisfied in this way, our lovemaking bloomed; her arms encircled me, her hips widened, and she welcomed my cock deep into her tender place, and I would kiss and lick and bite her, and taste the salt of her sweat and inhale the deep odor of her body, baked freshly each day by the desert sun. And after exploding inside of her she would push my head between her legs and my tongue would bring her three or four times to the brink and beyond while I tasted the juice pussy and cum, dripping out from the dark, hairy patch between her thighs. Our second night we lay together, our bodies glowing and relaxed like the embers of a fire, and we talked about sex, I told how I was amazed at how I loved to masturbate her like that, and about how fully she responded to my tongue in her pussy. She hugged me, and then said that she hadn't had a man for three years, except for a couple of one-night stands that didn't go well. I lay there silently, and felt a pang of excitement at what she would say next. "I'm too busy with graduate school to want to have a relationship. But I masturbate almost every day. And can I tell you something and you won't be shocked? My roommate and I have been having sex together for three years, and she satisfies me sexually very well—and without any complications. What do you think about that??" I joked (almost) that I was jealous of her roommate. I asked her more—how did it come about? What was it like? What did they do? Soon, I was tremendously aroused by what she revealed. Now I should say her that I'm not a real macho guy; in fact I identify strongly with women in many ways, and I like my sex gentle and soft, and I love to be treated by women in the way that they might treat a female lover. So what she said really was turning me on. Her roommate was a petite blonde, soft and feminine, almost the opposite of Melissa who was tall and dark and strong. They went to a liberal school where sex between the girls was almost common, and certainly accepted. They were not a couple; they were lovers in bed. And mostly Melissa accepted oral delights from her roommate, and only occasionally returned the favors, when she was so dripping with sex that she could not resist full and passionate involvement. And so in her tent, I was enacting the sensual dance that her roommate had performed on Melissa so many times before, and I found that thought awesomely sexy—that I was like her feminine lover, soft and tender and sensuous, at least until Melissa pulled me on top of her and spread her legs with heat and passion, and in the end we fucked like man and woman. "And," she said, "when I masturbate, it's like when your finger plays with me—I hardly move, even if I'm dripping and unbelievably hot, and it increases my orgasm. And believe me, I love to masturbate, and I do it a lot." I imagined, after that how it must be like, and I became almost a voyeur to her masturbation, and I let her hands come down to direct mine, or spread her labia and join me in pleasuring her fully. She talked on and on about masturbating, and I asked her what turned her on the most. She said, "Well, many things, but just before I came, I got this thing about vegetables. I wanted to masturbate with vegetables. And so I went to the market, and I spend the longest time looking at all the different shapes and textures, and I was getting really hot. I was there and people were all around me, and I was selecting a sex toy, while they were just looking for something to fry up with some oil. I actually came right there, pushing against the shopping cart. So I took them up to the cashier, and when I got there, I got suddenly embarrassed—I mean I had this odd collection of veggies, and the only thing they had in common was their shape, which was pretty suspicious. And even when I picked them up out of my basket, I couldn't help handling them differently. On top of everything else, I'd just cum in my pants! "And sure enough, the cashier turned red and gave me a little smile, and wished me a good night. I used one of he vegetables right away, and I left the others out on the kitchen table, and I would think about which to use the next night and how it might feel, and I'd feel it and imagine what I'd do with it, and I got really turned on. Sometimes I wouldn't even masturbate for a day or two, and work myself up to anticipation. This was really a turn on. They felt good inside of me, and of course they could stay for a long, long time without going limp! Cindy got into it, too, and we would rent a movie, and spend the night gently playing with our veggies while we watched the movie! I like to spend a long time almost ignoring sex, just lingering in arousal, but of course with a guy—or even a girl—it's hard to be getting fucked and ignoring them, too." By the time she was finished, I was totally turned on. I wanted to be like Cindy, there for her pleasure, to satisfy her desire; and I imagined being her sex slave, playing with her while she ignored me, watching a movie. That night when my cock plunged inside of her, I kept myself cool and calm, and we stayed like that, casual and talking about almost anything and everything (but sex) for a long, long time, before we erupted in passion. I had one of the most amazing orgasms ever; and Melissa did too. Our expedition in the desert came to an end a few days later. Melissa had a few days before her plane left, that she'd planned to spend exploring Santa Fe. We went together. First, though, we had the four hour drive out to the interstate highway. We were tired (and horny) and decided to find a motel. We checked in, and were amazed to see things like showers, baths and a flush toilet and cable TV. We thought we might just hang there for a day, and our imaginations began to get aroused. We went to a coffee shop for dinner and somewhere along the line we got the idea to pick up some veggies to take back to the room. We finished dinner in anticipation of our kinky adventure. We drove to the local supermarket and picked out cucumbers, carrots of several lengths and thickness, a and a few small squash of different shapes and sizes. Melissa handled each one provocatively, imagining how it might feel, like a woman checking out a line of male strippers. We got to the check out, and the checker didn't have a clue. Were we in New York or Boston or San Francisco, the checker would have put two and two together (a sexually aroused couple with an assortment of long narrow veggies? Does this mean something to you?), but we were just around the corner from nowhere, and the checker, perhaps dreaming of getting of work at 9pm and fucking her boyfriend at ten, hardly noticed us at all. We got to our room and Melissa laid out the veggies on the table. We checked the movie schedule. The motel had lots of truck drivers, and soft porn was served over the TV screen. We choose one and Melissa lay with her pussy on the end of the bed while I kneeled on the floor at eye level to the soft black hairs that made a dark cave between her legs, and ran up, lightly and delicately, almost half way to her belly button. "Go to it, do whatever you want, I'm going to ignore you and watch the video—it's more fun that way and by the time it's done I'll be incredibly hot. Cindy once played with my veggies for four hours—and then the orgasm was earthshaking! I pulled down Melissa's shorts and she spread her legs wide for me, while she chewed snacks and adjusted the volume. I tried a cucumber, but it was really thick and Melissa groaned. A little squash was just right, narrow at the top and fuller at the base, so I slipped my finger into Melissa (she might have been ignoring me, but she sure was wet!), and made sure she was slippery, and slowly slipped in the veg. Pushed full in, the base pressed against her clit just a little. I did this for a while maybe twenty minutes, before it seemed to be a little boring. I went for a carrot. Melissa's pussy sucked it right up. In a few minutes, I picked out another carrot and slipped it in beside the first, sliding them in and out together, twisting them a little. I stopped to slip a pillow under Melissa—I was getting tired sitting on the floor in front of the bed, and Melissa motioned to her butt, picked out another, smaller squash, and rolled over with her butt in the air. I gently pushed it up inside her cute little ass, and teased her for a while, before she rolled over, keeping it inside her. The two carrots pushed and pulled on her cunt at they went in and out. It was pretty awesome and I got really excited just watching it. Melissa was engrossed in the show, but then she held up three fingers. I picked out another carrot—not the fattest but one that was pretty stout, and pushed it up her pussy with the other two. I held it there and moved it around, waiting for Melissa to complain, but she just reached for more snacks. I slowly pulled them all out, and slowly pushed them in again, over and over. Her labia were puffy and stretched. Melissa stayed wet. She arched her hips a little, so it was easier to take the carrots inside her, and the squash fell out from her butt. I pulled the carrots out and slipped my finger into her pussy and got it really wet, and then slipped my finger up softly up her butt, and felt her muscles relax, gripping my finger like a baby holds her dad's finger, soft and warm and so amazingly strong. After a while I was a little bored, and I pulled out the veggies, spread her lips apart so that with just the tip of my tongue I played with her clit, sharply, delicately, touching nothing else. Melissa started to purr just a little. Her thighs tightened around my head, and her hands gripped my head, so I could hardly move my head, and then she started to buck like a horse, bouncing me around like a bronco rider, and mashing my face like a pillow into her pussy. She came with a thunderous noise, and I thought her thighs would crush my head until they suddenly fell open as her hips buckled and pushed and I had to grab around her ass to keep from being tossed off. This orgasm lasted a long time, and when it quieted a little, I slid next to Melissa on the bed my hand softly over her pussy. She pushed my head down to her nipples, and I began to suck them gently, but she pushed harder, and took her hand and pushed my fingers into her cunt and held it there while her pelvis rolled like waves in the ocean while yet another orgasm passed through her. Now I couldn't hold off any longer, my poor cock had been stiff and ready for so long and was ignored. I lifted myself on top of Melissa and in one movement dropped myself between her legs and plunged deep into her pussy and began thrusting faster and faster. Melissa arched her back and dug her fingers into my butt, and this time when she came she moaned and cried and purred and whimpered, on and on without stopping for several minutes and somewhere in the middle of all this my body let loose and I flooded her pussy with my cum, and my whole body felt like it was made of warm honey and I kept thrusting in and out and my dick softened only a little and hurt, but I couldn't stop, and before Melissa had stopped moaning I came again, and her orgasm doubled in intensity and tears came to her eyes and she held me so tight...she was so strong, and her lips covered my head with warm wet kisses while she laughed and cried all at once. The next I remember was waking up in each other's arms, and my head was half on her breast, half in her armpit. A couple of showers had done nothing against the fragrant odors of weeks of sweat in the hot sun, and Melissa's particular, wonderful odor filled my head, reminding me of dust and sunburn and the time her fragrance sharpened my eyes and made my mouth water, when we had pushed up against each other in a sandy pit in cool shade. She stirred a little, and the vapor of fresh warm sweat, the sweat of sex, drifted to my nose and filled me with delight. We slept very late and headed up to Santa Fe. It might be more exciting if I told you that our days in Santa Fe were one continuous orgy, but most of our time was spent in museums, libraries and great places to eat. Of course every night we returned to bed and Melissa, who had become habituated to sex with other girls during her school year, rediscovered the joys of the male body and wanted to fuck more and more. At the same time I was enjoying the sweet fruits of her feminine liaisons, her gentle touch, her slow and timeless way of making love, and her enthusiastic and devoted attachment to sucking nipples. Now, I happen to have a thing about nipples—I love them on girls, and I love 'em on myself. Well, after enjoying the delights of her roommate's tiny titties, Melissa indulged herself with mine, to my sweet and ecstatic delight. Her hand would gently cup the fleshy mound of my own breast, and cradle my nipple gently, then her soft fingers would lightly twirl and her lips would surround my stiff little nip while her tongue began beating, faster and faster until jolts of pleasure sprang from my nipple and excited my whole body, stiffening my cock to a hard rock, which she rode to newer pleasures. We bought almost matching tee shirts, which we slipped over our naked bodies in the morning heat, and admired our nipples before stepping out into the quiet halls of the museums and libraries of the southwest. And Veggies? Who needs veggies? We never played with veggies again, but when Marie returned home, my first letter from her was a postcard, hand painted, delicately, carefully, of a peculiar collection of vegetables....