Organic Blueberries – Erotic Story

Kevin got a lump in his throat when, from across the hills of piled produce at the farmers market, he saw a tall, lovely woman in a flappy-brimmed Havana hat and a flowery sundress.

Standing there, she held a cucumber in each hand.

She compared the two. The thickness, length, color. She put back the thicker cucumber, selecting the darker, leaner option. In a second decision, though, she grabbed the other cucumber. She put them both in her basket.

The woman moved to a pile of cantaloupes. She dragged her hands over the cool melons. Her spidery fingers squeezed the pale fruit.

She lifted two melons to examine them closer. She brought one to her nose. She sniffed the second too. Another moment for decision, and she chose the cantaloupe in her left hand.

Kevin realized then he was still holding a plastic container of precut watermelon. He put back the container.

He nonchalantly passed by a few vendors’ tables, keeping an eye on the woman.

She felt the hardness of the garden tomatoes and ripeness of the navel oranges. She was particular about bruises on the gala apples. 

Kevin wanted to talk to her but didn’t know what to say. Typically, he preferred precaution, but in the past precaution had rooted his feet to the ground like trees. So now, he decided to buy a few apples.

When he turned toward the length of tents over the produce, she was gone. He scanned the contours of the mounds of sweet potatoes, white and red onions, bananas, avocados, pineapples, cabbage heads. He looked through the shoppers: grandmothers, mothers with restless kids in strollers, and old couples holding hands.

To his relief, she stood up after rummaging through a long, row of baskets piled with green peppers and rhubarb.

She examined the selection of blueberries.

He swooped to the clusters of red and green grapes, which were only raspberries away from the blueberries.

Kevin was surprised when the woman by him laughed and covered her mouth.

She had a fun laugh. A laugh that made others want to laugh without even knowing the joke.

Kevin couldn’t help but smile along with her.

She laughed harder.

And his laugh broke through too.

As the woman tried to calm herself, Kevin asked, “Having a good day?”

She couldn’t talk. Her cheeks and forehead were red. She gently wiped tears from her green eyes.

Kevin again gave a quick laugh, as laughter is contagious.

She placed her hand on her chest gently, and took deep a breath. Her eyes closed, and she exhaled.

“I needed that,” she said. A last tickle of laughter ended her statement.

Kevin kept his smile.

“What’s so funny? I want to have a good day too.”

“Oh, it’s all just spelling.”

“Spelling made you laugh that hard?” He leaned his hip against the table on which the berries and grapes were set.

“Misspelling actually.” She pointed a long finger at the description of the blueberries printed on a sheet of paper. It was taped to a container of berries.

Kevin leaned forward to see the label. He smelled the sweet blueberries, as he read the description.

“Orgasmic blueberries.” Kevin gave a quick ha-ha. “Spelling is important. A customer might bring back the berries, saying they were sold under false advertising.”

“I shouldn’t have—I usually wouldn’t laugh so hard about things like that, but some days are good days to laugh.” She shrugged as if awkwardly apologetic.

“Some days we need special blueberries,” Kevin said. He introduced himself.

“Sharon,” she replied.

They shook hands. Then there was the awkward moment when conversation is most likely to stall unless someone can think of something clever or interesting enough to create a spark.

The burden rested on Kevin. Unfortunately, the engine of the interaction died.

“Well, I’ve got more to get.” Sharon gave a getaway face—eyebrows raised high on her forehead and a pursed-lip smile.

“How much stuff?” Kevin asked quickly and suddenly.

“A long list. Our refrigerator and cabinets are totally empty.”

“Our?”

“Yeah, me and my husband.”

“Ah … husband.” Kevin’s shoulders dipped slightly and his head nodded, as his hope extinguished. He felt worse than being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water on a winter day.

Since hope was gone, he said, “I was going to ask you to get a coffee at the stand right over there. I think it’d be best if I …”

She looked over her shoulder to a small trailer hitched to a brown pickup truck. It was dubbed Gypsy Joe and advertised with anime art.

Sharon then pulled back her eyes from the traveling coffee truck to Kevin.  “It sells fresh beans and hot coffee.”

“I’m not in that furious of a rush. I don’t turn down coffee.” She tapped the side of her mouth, thinking. “We need some coffee beans too—for home.”

Still disappointed that she was married and would be buying beans for her husband, he watched her enjoy the smells of the Arabica and Robusta beans. She dragged in the dark scent with a satisfied face—eyes closed, nostrils wide, mouth opened.

Meanwhile, Kevin stood by as the roasted beans were ground and filtered through with steaming hot water. He set down cash for the drinks.

He and Sharon settled at a small iron table with their shopping baskets at their feet. Kevin only had two tangerines rolling around in his basket.

Sharon had a frappe in a tall cup. Kevin had an espresso.

Kevin took a single, quick sip. Instantly, his face twisted at the bitterness. He shook his head, wincing.

“Nothing like a sip of burning-hot—” He coughed. “—coffee.”

Sharon grinned at his reaction. She gently set down her frappe obviously enjoying its sweetness.

“Not a typical coffee drinker,” she said lightly.

“Not too often. Coffee is for surviving the workday, for pushing through.” He shoved a fist forward as emphasis.

“What about the morning, getting started?”

“I can get my engine running in the morning. It’s the afternoon that does me in. At around, say, 2 in the afternoon. And then I take a walk to shed the tiredness.”

Sharon raised her cup again. “I need help in the morning. A jolt of something.”

“Blueberries?”

She pulled the cup away from her lips. “Huh?”

“Special blueberries. Hint, hint.” He bounced his eyebrows. He gave a quick laugh, albeit forced.

“Oh, yeah. Blueberries.” She gave a single, consolatory ha at Kevin’s shot at humor.

She drank her frappe, quietly. She stared every way except at him.

Kevin sipped his espresso, steadying his face this time against the bitter taste.

“This farmers market has more produce today than in the past,” she said finally.

“Yeah, there is so much produce.” Feeling the forced conversation, Kevin added, “And other stuff. I have to be careful to not overspend. Buying junk.”

There was another pause as they drank.

“Do you have a list of things to buy?” she asked.

“Fruit. Maybe some vegetables. I don’t have a specific list.”

“Mhmm, okay.” She took a sip.

“Farmers markets are like flea markets,” Kevin said. “Who knows what’s there, and I like to buy what gets my attention.” He shrugged and took the last bit of his espresso. He ended up coughing again.

“Wow, that espresso was terrible. I will never drink that again. And now I’ve got this jumpiness. I can’t sit still.”

She chuckled watching his reaction. “You’ll be awake until tomorrow, I bet.”

“I feel like I got a buzz going on. My head is spinning.” Kevin calmed his bouncy knees and tucked his hands in his lap, so they would stop tapping the tabletop.

Sharon scanned him. She leaned back comfortably cool in her chair. “The espresso has you worked up.”

“I’m not used to this at all.” He grinned and shook his head.

Sharon laughed and patted his arm. “It’s okay. Let it work itself out.”

“Does nausea come with coffee?” He grimaced. “And kids drink coffee nowadays like crazy. Yikes. Who needs drugs?”

She smiled.

“Can we walk around? It’ll help,” Kevin suggested.

“Sure.” She drank the rest of her frappe and threw hers and his cups into a trashcan.

“Off to work we go.” Kevin did a small jump.

Sharon slid her long fingers into his warm hand. “Stay calm. Deep breath. Inhale and exhale.”

Kevin had another jolt. Espresso and her hand. The two breathed—Kevin breathing exaggeratedly. They started to giggle together. She began her laugh and he broke out in laughter too. Passersby stared at the pair. Some smiled. Others looked dully at them.

They strolled among the produce under the tents.

“You have a list of what to buy, right? So let’s find everything. Maybe I can work off some of this energy. We can make your husband happy too,” Kevin said.

“Make him happy, hmm.” Sharon tapped the tip of her chin. “Not a problem.”

Kevin noticed her green eyes dart, as if she had a good idea.

She pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from a pocket of her dress. Scanning over the blue scribbles, she mumbled, “Maybe I can get home sooner than he expected.”

Further down the tents, Kevin watched Sharon scoop a pound of almonds into a bag, tied it, and set it in her basket. She ran her fingers over two dozen brown eggs to make sure none were cracked. She tasted a tiny spoon of fresh honey. 

“You should try this, Kevin.” Sharon held out a drizzle for him. “It is so fresh and sweet.” 

She fed it to him and then wiped a bit of the sticky gold from his bottom lip with her finger. She licked the honey from that finger. It gave him a different jolt of energy than it did her. Touch over taste.

She bought a large jar.

As Sharon shopped on, Kevin meandered a tent away.

Sharon was lean and sporty. A former college athlete, maybe. Kevin had to assume she was health-conscious—based on her stature and what she was buying from the farmers market instead of a grocery store.

Her sundress hung down to her knees. When she bent at the waist to examine the vegetables and smell the unique candles and homemade sweets, the dress rose higher to bare the back of her thighs.

Kevin liked her large feet and long toes—the feet of an ancient Greek goddess—set appropriately in leather-strapped Artemis ankle sandals. Her toenails were manicured with a calm nude polish that matched her demeanor.

He watched her talking to a heavy-set saleswoman with a giant smile.

The woman convinced Sharon to buy a dozen cupcakes with chocolate frosting. She turned to Kevin. “Not on the list but spontaneity is good.”

“If it makes him happy.”

“Who, my husband?” she asked. “He likes meat. That reminds me—beef jerky! Where is that stuff?”

Kevin rose to his tiptoes and sniffed, like a dog.

She laughed. “Can’t pick up a scent?”

Kevin gave a disappointed ruff.

She slid her arm under his arm happily. “We’ll have to find it another way, Scooby-doo.”

They moved between the people with Sharon leading the pair. She would often take his hand to keep him close. It gave him more opportunities to observe her body move.

Her dress would billow in the breeze and then cling to her, which let it outline her form.

As she led him, he noticed her butt jounce freer than a butt of her round size when imprisoned in panties. It triggered his mind. While in his thoughts, Sharon turned her head to speak. She busted Kevin with his eyes on her ass.

“Eyes up,” she said. “He may not like you being so obvious.”

“Your husband? He’s here?”

“No, no, no. It’s just that I tell him everything.”

“If he’s not here and he won’t know me, how about if I’m not so obvious?” Kevin offered.

“Fine. Don’t let me see you looking.”

“Touching?”

She scowled sarcastically.

“Can I carry your basket? It looks heavy.” He reached out and kept his eyes directly on her chest.

She tightened her lips at seeing his obvious eyes.

She gave him the basket though. Their hands touched briefly and lightly. Both were silent. Neither apologizing nor scolding.

They continued through the market but now quietly. Kevin felt a warming tension in his chest. A thudding heart. He understood the muted flirtation.

Sharon stopped at a table of vintage photos. She ran her finger along the length of a wooden frame. The frame enclosed a photo of a 19th-century woman riding an old bicycle.

“My husband,” she began and glanced over her shoulder at Kevin, “loves photography, especially vintage. It’s vintage all the time.”

He simply nodded. His eyes looked at the other shoppers that meandered about.

Seeing him, Sharon knelt. She perused the plastic-sheathed photos that were set upright in a basket at the foot of the table.

“Do you like photos, Kevin?” By adding his name, she drew back his attention.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed her fingers run from her ankle, along her calf and to her knee. Starting at her knee, the fingers began to drag the dress upward. The length of her thigh came into view. She then moved her finger slowly, moving the cloth.

Kevin couldn’t redirect his attention.

Sharon’s fingers drew up the fabric until all of her thigh and her right cheek were bared.

Kevin determined that she had on either tiny panties or simply none at all. But, in a moment, she let the fabric fall as she stood with a picture in hand: The Eiffel Tower in a blur of rain.

She purchased it.

“My husband wants to visit France someday,” she told Kevin as she admired the picture.

Kevin nodded but was confused. Her flirtation, baring her thigh, and the continuous mention of her husband.

“Nice picture. He has good taste.” Kevin’s voice cracked when he said it.

“Would you like to meet him?” she asked in a spritely voice, as if happy that she thought up the idea. “He’d like it. He’d like you.”

Kevin stepped back.

“Sharon, I think we need to end our afternoon here. You have a husband. You love him. I can tell.” He handed the basket to her. “And I can’t, I just can’t.”

She didn’t take the basket.

“Please, please.” She made him set it down. She then grabbed his upper arms and dragged her hands down. She held the ends of his fingers. “Please come with me. Don’t leave.”

He laughed off her plea. “I am not going to meet or even see your husband. That’s insane. I’m not looking for a fight or to be chased away by a guy in a big truck.” He shook her hands from his.

He stared around her at the marketplace. “I shouldn’t have started this whole thing. I’m really sorry.” 

“Did I do something wrong all of a sudden?” She frowned. “I didn’t mean to. I apologize for whatever it was.” Her face winced in concern and confusion.

“You didn’t do anything. But you’re married. I can’t get passed that.”

“We’ve—you’ve—enjoyed the day, right? Talking and laughing. Flirting.” She winked. “Remember orgasmic blueberries?”

His mouth broke into a small grin. “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

She touched his elbow. “I still have them.”

But he quickly patted her shoulders like a father talking to his daughter.

“You can eat them with your husband or alone. Whichever. I can’t.”

“I want you there, so we can eat them together. It won’t be the same without you,” she pleaded.

“Won’t be the same? I seriously doubt that. It’d be better for the both of us—even the ‘third’ of us.”

Sharon stepped close to Kevin. Her green eyes grew fierce and stared directly into his.

“I want you.” Then she pressed her body against his. “I’m not going to let you go.”

Her hands spread around his waist and slithered into the belt loops on his khaki shorts. And she kissed him.

Her surprise move overtook any attempts at ending the afternoon. There was no goodbye and no I-can’t. Instead, floodgates opened. Passion broke through. The pair drowned in that long, intense kiss.

Finally, in a heave, he broke away from Sharon. He caught his breath, despite his chest still raising and lowering.

“How far away is your car?” Kevin asked.

Her fierce eyes shifted from his eyes down to the tip of his nose and then to his cupid’s bow on his upper lip.

She wiped her smeared lipstick from his lips and asked, “Does it matter how far away it is?”

Kevin could only shake his head as of hypnotized.

She tugged him through the lines of shoppers that were meandering among the rows of tents and then pulled him across the vast lot of parked cars. His elbows knocked against side-view mirrors, and bad parking jobs forced him to scooch between cars.

The whole time, Kevin feared and was excited by the circumstance into which he had fallen. A wildly intriguing woman, with no shame or panties, held tightly to his hand to rush him to her car. But she had a husband. And she wanted them to meet. It was absurd. He could only imagine being beaten to a pulp and left unconscious at the foot of the enraged man whose wife had brought home a guy. But there was sex. Sex was attempting to overshadow all these factors.

In the parking lot, between an extended-cab pickup and a BMW, he stopped running.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said, tugging his hand.

Reality struck him.

“I … but … your husband. He won’t …” he muttered, loosing his hands. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to go the hospital tonight.”

She snatched his hand and held tightly. “Oh, baby, you’re not going to the hospital tonight. You’re going to heaven.”

“Heaven! The hell you say.” He yanked his hands free. “I don’t want to face your husband.”

“Not Heaven.” She tsked with a smile. “I mean, my heaven.”

She then urged him forward with her finger.

Heaven got him to rush again, although with some reluctance.

“Why didn’t I buy the container of watermelon instead of looking twice at her?” He muttered quietly so she wouldn’t hear.

“There it is!” She stopped at a muddy black jeep with oversized off-road tires.

Kevin knew her husband was not a computer nerd or a balding accountant. He was an outdoors man. With the mud, he feared Sharon and him lived off the grid, maybe, in a house he built.

She hopped into the driver’s seat and made the engine growl angrily. Kevin hauled himself up and through the roll cage bars to sit on the sun-heated seat.

She patted his knee. “You’re gonna love this.”

He only gripped the heavy bars encasing him and the one grip on the dashboard.

“I hope so.” And he closed his eyes. “I sure hope so.”

She peeled out of the parking lot, and the jeep roared as she jammed through the gears of manual transmission.

The wind rushed through the cab of the jeep. Kevin looked to his left to see Sharon’s dress balloon around her chest and whipped high up her legs. She didn’t hold down the flapping dress, allowing other drivers and passengers to see her. Kevin was slightly disappointed to determine that she wore panties.

Sharon basked in the wind and sun that the jeep allowed in.

She passed by a large apartment building on Florence Avenue and then turned onto Sherwood Drive that was lined with bland houses.

Kevin began to imagine her husband was an average man in slacks and a polo shirt. He would prefer to overdose his wife’s side-guy than pound him to death. It would keep the house tidy. 

Kevin no longer feared an outdoorsman in lumberjack flannel beating him down with pure strength—no weapon needed.

The garage door opened but Sharon left the jeep in the sun instead. She led them through the garage that smelled like drywall and bleach cleaner. She opened the interior door 

Stepping inside the house, he found it clean and white. The floors glistened and the kitchen was immaculate—clean counters and no dirty dish in sight. Honestly, the place contrasted the free-spirited bohemian Sharon from the flea market and Sharon from the suburbs. Did she work in an office five days a week?

Sharon shouted cheerfully. “We’re home!”

Her call echoed in his war and immediately, Kevin’s neck constricted, giving him trouble breathing. He determined that sexual fantasies are made for fantasies—not real life. “Never do this again, if you ever get a chance,” he scolded himself.

“Danny! I have someone here,” she called again.

The name Danny for a man threw him off. He questioned why the guy hadn’t outgrown the name to Dan or Daniel.

“You’re going to love him,” she said to Danny and grabbed Kevin’s hand tightly.

“He’s not answering?” Kevin stated the obvious very quietly.

“Follow me.” She dragged him through the kitchen and across the great room that had fresh vacuum lines in the carpet. They came to a closed door.

She glanced at him with a smile and then opened the door to the master bedroom.

Kevin’s heart thudded against his rib cage at double-speed. He steadied himself for a blowup and a fight.

“Danny, you will love this,” she said.

She tugged a resistant Kevin into her and her husband’s bedroom.

He saw Danny for the first time. He was a forgettable guy. Nothing stood out about him.

He sat in a dark-brown club chair—the type of chairs once used in gentlemen’s clubs. The chair had a low back and heavy, rounded arms. Danny sat deeply in the chair, relaxed and with a pleasant demeanor. To Kevin, he was happy to have a guest in his bedroom even as his own wife held that guest’s hand.

“I was not expecting this. How’d you find him?” Danny said in a composed voice.

“Kevin, here,” she said, hugging his arm, “he approached me. We had a laugh about a misspelling—referring to blueberries as ‘orgasmic,’ not ‘organic.’ I could not stop laughing.”

Despite Danny’s look, Kevin had urges to pull away from her and run. She grabbed his right hand with both of her hands. He knew he could not leave, unless he was up for a prison break.

“I knew you’d like to see him. He’s perfect,” she told Danny.

Kevin was astounded that Sharon had Danny on his mind the whole afternoon. “You were …” he began to say to her but stopped.

Danny stood. The cushions on the chair grumbled and re-expanded to their roundness.

Danny walked around Kevin, studying him—his loafers, linen jogger shorts, the contours of his legs, the plain t-shirt, his knuckles.

“You want me to? Can I?” Sharon asked, as happy as a little girl about to get a gift.

Danny paused, looked at Sharon and then at Kevin, the new man, and Sharon again.

“Babe, you get ready. I’ll get the camera,” he said.

“Camera?” Kevin said aloud. He received no response.

The couple left Kevin alone in the middle of the vaulted-ceiling bedroom. Danny disappeared into a closet, and Sharon dipped into a bathroom.

Danny came back with a tall tripod and a small video recorder.

Kevin watched Danny arrange the stand and work on the camera settings.

“Can someone explain what’s going on here?” Kevin said finally.

“Just ignore me, pal,” Danny said, without looking at Kevin.

Kevin was about to object when Sharon reappeared in a red empire dress with spaghetti straps. The high waistline came just under her breasts, and the hem was mid-thigh. She leaned against the doorway and smiled at Kevin.

He noticed her pointy nipples pressing against the thin fabric.

Danny interrupted Kevin’s thought with the same thought.

“You look delicious. I’ve always loved your tits and those nips of yours. Give them to me,” he said.

Sharon blew Danny a sweet kiss and then stepped to Kevin. She placed her hand on the center of his chest.

“I want to know what you like. Do you want to pull down?” She shifted so a strap fell off her shoulder. “Or do you want to lift up?” Her hand slid down her torso to the hem of her dress, raising the fabric teasingly. “Your choice.”

Kevin was caught in limbo. What a wonderful choice: Her tits or her pussy. A choice any other time in life would be a blessing, but, in this circumstance, it was a hard decision to make. In particular, Danny mumbled his encouragement. “Yes, your choice, Kevin. Have at her.”

At the flea market, he was intrigued by her sweet butt and then seeing her drag her fingers up her thigh to expose that she had very little on underneath.

Kevin gulped and stretched his neck, raising his chin.

When her eyes reconnected with his, he knew he had to go forward. “Gimme … I want that pussy.” And he grabbed her upper arms and flung her onto the bed.

“Yes, god, yes,” Danny growled in his own joy of watching.

Flattened on the bed, Sharon set the heels of her feet on the edges wide apart. The small dress covered nothing now. And no panties were there to cover her. Sharon’s cunt had narrow lips and a lovely mound. Pink labia barely appeared, peeking into the light as shy as her cute clit and its hood. Around and above her pussy was a rough bit of stubble.

He stared at who lay before him on the bed. She was waiting.

And he lowered to his knees. He touched her pussy and made Sharon tighten and coo. With his thumbs, he peeled apart her cunt’s outer lips—the heavy curtain—to get a peek at the pair of crinkled labia and her proud clit behind the curtain.

Seeing her cunt wide open and glistening with wetness, he pushed his face forward.

While admiring her, she said, “Let me feel how my pussy likes your tongue.”

He widened his tongue, like he would at the first long lick on a ice cream cone. Then he dragged his tongue against as much of her pretty flesh as possible. The folds moved and her intimate gloss spread to each corner of his mouth.

Her cunt was aromatically savory. Not sweetness but earthy sex.

Kevin felt the stubble scruff the bridge of his nose and cheeks as he tongued the heated pussy.

From a distance, he heard Sharon encouraging him and complimenting his efforts. Danny was speaking too.

“You look so good with a man between your legs. I’ve always loved it,” Danny said.

His statement pushed Kevin to eat more, to eat faster. He licked deeper into her until her feet left the bed and rose toward the ceiling—her legs straightened. Her hands gripped the comforter as she tried to handle the sensations sweeping over her body.

“God, this is good,” she said in a rough, deep voice.

Soon, her legs drooped over the edge of the bed. She pushed on Kevin’s forehead to get him away from her overwhelming sensitivity.

“Come up here.” She held out her arms as a welcome.

He climbed onto the bed. It felt nice to get the pressure off his knees.

She rolled him onto his back and resituated herself so her pussy was again over his face, while her mouth frolicked with his grown cock.

Through Sharon’s legs, he saw Danny move the camera to a new angle—facing her sucking his dick. He also noticed Danny was naked with a large erection from watching his wife fucking.

Kevin watched him, until Sharon’s pussy plopped into his face, smothering his nose and mouth.

He ate again and, at the same time, felt sticky saliva ooze down his cock followed by Sharon’s warm mouth. Her tongue swirled around the head of his dick—a precious feeling, a pleasure. As she gave a blowjob, the pressure of her pussy over his mouth ebbed and flowed, increased and decreased, lowered and raised. Her hips shifted as she bobbed.

He worked his mouth. Every so often, he had to twist his head to catch his breath before focusing again.

Despite Sharon’s legs blocking his ears, Kevin heard Danny order his wife.

“Get on his cock. Ride him and let him fuck you hard.”

She rose up and dragged her pussy, down his chest and stomach, smearing her goodness along the way. Sharon adjusted herself over his cock. Kevin felt the soft lips rub atop his dick, making him jolt at the sensitivity.

“Fuck that thing!” Danny shouted. “Cum on it!”

At his command her silkiness covered his cock. Kevin grabbed the comforter on the bed. He watched Sharon’s ass bounce as she rocked. The visual was almost as erotic as the feeling.

Sharon moaned and wheezed. Between breaths, she asked, “You like this, baby? Does it look good?”

“Yes! I do, yes,” Danny shrieked.

“I know you been wanting this.”

“Get on your back. I want to see him on top.”

She lifted off of Kevin. In her shifting, Kevin rolled her over. He got between her legs and plunged into her sloppy, wet cunt.

She shrieked and then howled each time he rammed against her.

He pressed his hands on the inside of her knees and spread them to eliminate any hindrances.

“You like that, bitch, don’t you?” Kevin took hold of her slim petite tit with one hand while keeping her legs spread with the other.

She narrowed her eyes to glare at him. It was only a moment before her demeanor fell back to luxurious pleasure.

“Cum in me, cum in me, let me feel it, I want it,” she said between thrusts. Her eyes were closed, as she soaked in what Kevin was giving her so hard.

The words triggered Kevin. He felt a speck of goodness deep in him. He fucked her harder and faster and deeper. His body slammed against hers. Her floppy tits swung in all directions. Her head shook and her neck arched.

“Yes!” she repeated.

Kevin grunted and the speck grew into a spiral and then to a piercing innate drive. He felt a collision when he drove into her and remained steady. All his cum shot into her. He filled her pussy. He squeezed everything he could into her.

When he finally breathed again, opened his eyes and looked down, Sharon was still, her face contorted, and her hands gripped his forearms.

Slowly her green eyes opened. They had a brightness. Something good had happened to her.

To Kevin’s surprise, he heard a rasp. He turned to see Danny plop into the club chair. His hand was covered in cum.

Kevin looked at Sharon who lay beside him and dabbled her finger in her cunt, dragging out cords of Kevon’s cum.

The three of them were still and quiet.

When Sharon sat up to speak to Danny, Kevin felt the awkwardness return. He excused himself to clean up. When he came back to the master bedroom, the couple was making out. Sharon’s hand was toying with Danny’s weakened cock to revive it.

Kevin picked up his clothes from the carpeted floor. He thanked them.

“I’ll let you two be,” he said. “I’ll see my way out.”

“If that’s what you want,” Danny said wearily.

“But your car,” Sharon said.

“I can make a few calls. I’ll just wait outside.”

“Take those blueberries,” Sharon said. “I’ve made mine and I’ll be getting more soon, right, honey?”

For half an hour, Kevin sat alone on the front porch and ate the blueberries one by one until his ride pulled along the road.

He glanced at the large house and the jeep in the driveway. Sharon was one of a kind.

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