Hello. I’m currently feeling a bit under the weather. Must be bronchitis, I think.
Anyway. Since the bronchitis has apparently affected my ability to write a decent post, I have decided to spoil my readers with a story of mine that is x-posted on Cliterati. Enjoy…
Pound A Punnet
Though it was still early in the morning, Covent Garden market was already buzzing. I breathed in the morning air, as I made my way out of the busy tube station. For once, London smelled like sun and summer, instead of its usual pong of gasoline and regret.
A nearby busker provided a soundtrack for my tour of the stalls. Granted, he was terrible- I mean, “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning”? – but so far, I was rather enjoying this day already.
There were far too many tempting things on offer. To my left, a stall with pretty shawls and shiny bracelets. To my right, a Paperchase, which I really should have gone in to because I need more pens in my life. But today, my attention was drawn to a new stall.
At some point since I’d last been there, a fruit stall had materialized. A good one, apparently, as I had to fight my way through the crowds to get to the front, nearly body-slamming my way into a couple of pensioners in the process. I could see why the crowd was there. The most succulent melons, ripe and plump strawberries, and glistening apples lay seductively on display, tempting masses over to this stall.
I admired some of the juicy looking cantaloupes. Picking one up, I studied it. Trailing my fingers over the lightly ribbed skin, I was tempted to bite right through it.
“D’you want to try my strawberries, love?”
Startled by the interruption , I nearly dropped the melon onto the floor.
“Excuse me?” I said, wildly turning my head to see where this voice had come from.
Then I noticed the vendor, holding out a punnet of strawberries for me.
“Try my strawberries. A pound a punnet. Come on, love, you won’t regret it!”
“Oh, I see.”
Shaking my head to level myself, I gingerly took a strawberry from the punnet, but hesitated to put it in my mouth.
“Go on, take a bite. They’re top notch. Grown in my own garden.”
In one go, I bit through the moist, red flesh. Instantly, I was hit with an explosion of flavors. So tart and sweet and fleshy… oh god, it was the best. I devoured the rest, until the juice was dripping down the corners of my mouth. Realizing that this wasn’t exactly flattering, I wiped off the residue with my sleeve. Also not one of my brightest ideas, since it left a stain.
The vendor shot a cheeky grin at me. “Told you!”
I blushed and tried to compose myself.
“Wow… They’re great! Do you really grow these yourself?”
“The whole lot. And I’m very proud of that.”
“Well, you should be.”
“Can I interest you in a punnet then?”
Between looking like an arse with a strawberry-stained mouth, and actually having the pleasure of eating them, I chose the latter.
“Yeah, go on then. A pound, you said?”
I fiddled with my wallet, as the vendor bagged the punnet for me. As I reached over to hand him the pound, our hands met, which caused me to take a decent look at him. His sandy locks, piercing blue eyes and cheeky smile made me tingle all over.
It took me a full minute to realize that I was staring at him.
I couldn’t help it. I imagined what it would be like to lick strawberry preserve off his chest.
“Have a good one, love. And come back soon. I might have some grapes for you by tomorrow…” he said, letting go of my hand and heading off to serve another customer. But his promise of grapes lingered tantalizingly in the air.
Later that night, I sat in my kitchen, staring at the nearly-empty punnet on the table. This was ridiculous. I’d exchanged about ten words with this man and now I was imagining being bent over his wheelbarrow and fucked up the arse in the middle of his veggie patch.
I had to go back.
The next morning, I took a gamble and exited the tube a stop earlier, at the market. I had no idea if the vendor would be there, but fuck it, it would be worth it.
I practically flew out of the station, nearly slipping on the cobblestones. My inner radar scouted the square.
“Come on…” I muttered. He must be around somewhere.
A part of me still felt like this was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever done. I mean, I’m not that fond of fruit. Why would I risk work for fruit? Even if the fruit in question was the juiciest, most succulent fruit I’d ever tasted….
Who am I kidding? I was going for him. Juicy, succulent him.
And when I spotted him, in the same spot as yesterday, I sighed with relief. He was still gorgeous, his fruit still looked like manna from heaven. All was well.
I didn’t want to look too eager, so I sidled my way up to the stall, pretending to be interested in various other things besides his ripe melons. He spotted me eying an apple.
“Well, well! Did the promise of my grapes tempt you back to my little corner of the market?”
He held out a small bunch of very luscious-looking red grapes. “Go on. You know you want to.”
Oh yes. I wanted to. Badly.
I took one between my fingers and wasted no time in biting it. The juices trickled down my blouse and I let out an elongated moan.
“See, I knew you’d like them.”
“My god, these are delicious!” I licked the excess juice from my fingers. He grinned, rightfully proud of his home-grown crop. “How much ?”
“For you, a pound. Always a pound.”
His eyes lingered on mine, and I nearly forgot about the existence of fruit altogether. My god, was he ever gorgeous. As he turned around to get a bag, I lustily stared at the outline of his perky arse in those tight jeans.
“Thanks, love. Here you go,” he said, handing me the bagged grapes, “and do enjoy. And remember to come back tomorrow. I’ve got oranges you won’t be able to resist.”
He shot me a killer smile and winked. Suddenly, I felt very wobbly.
I scurried away from the stall, only to stop around the corner to catch my breath. Pearly beads of sweat formed on my body, and my cunt throbbed with a dull desire. Fuck him and his perfect fruit.
For the next few days, I kept trying to resist going back to Covent Garden to get another glimpse of the vendor and his perfect fruit. But no matter how hard I tried (and I do admit, I didn’t try very hard) I always ended up back at his stall, fondling another piece of fruit.
Part of me felt utterly ridiculous. It was like I had gained an unhealthy obsession with produce. My colleagues were now officially labeling me “Fruity Girl”, and I don’t think it was due to the constant stream of bananas and grapes on my desk.
My fantasies about him were becoming more and more graphic. In the last one, he was fucking me on the table of his market stall, yelling, “Get your blueberries! Pound a punnet!”
He called me his “Pound Lady”, since he seemed happy to offer me anything for a pound. I wondered if it meant that he had taken a shine to me. In that case, what had I done, other than show up?
Either way, I needed to see him again. I needed that weird, primal lust I felt when I was near him. So, I decided to do something potentially very stupid.
That morning, I watched him from afar. His head was shorn this time, and I momentarily mourned the loss of his sandy locks. Mainly because I had fantasized about entwining my fingers in them whilst being eaten out like a kiwi fruit…
I waited until he left his stall for his midday break, and followed him towards his van, which was parked nearby.
Swallowing, I approached him.
He turned around and, upon seeing me, grinned widely.
“Ah! My gorgeous Pound Lady! What brings you to my van? Anything I can rustle up for you?”
“Yes, you did mention some apples earlier in the week,” I said, trying not to look like I was a big lying twat, “and I was keen on getting a closer look.”
“Ah, my prized apples!”
He opened the doors to his van and I watched, as he rummaged through the countless boxes of fruit and produced an apple. He fingered the waxy, red skin and smiled. “Yep, this is definitely a favorite of mine. Care to try?”
I nodded and took the apple from him. And, of course, the first bite was one to savor. Such sweet skin and a heavenly core… I moaned again, letting the taste linger for a moment.
“Well, that flatters me enormously.” he said, beaming. Then he added, “You know, I’ve never seen anyone eat fruit in such a sensuous way. You make tasting a rare art form.”
“Wow… thanks, I guess. It’s good fruit, which helps.”
He frowned, as if he was trying to catch me out on something. “I was hoping it’s because you find me attractive.”
I nearly choked on my apple. Shit! How did he… Oh right, because I’m the most conspicuous person in the world.
“Well… well…ehm… Well, you are quite nice to look at.”
“Hmm… Go on?”
“And… and you are charming. And I like your fruit. And…and… fuck, you’re making it hard for me to focus.”
“Shall I take over?” he said, stepping closer towards me. “For some reason, you keep coming back to my stall, and I’m guessing it has fuck-all to do with my good fruit and more to do with how much you want to do this.”
Before I could protest, he pulled me in and enveloped my mouth in a wet, hungry kiss. The mid-afternoon sun beat down heavily on us, and I had to stop to catch my breath and wipe the sweat from my brow.
“Fuck…” I sighed. “You have no idea…”
“How much you wanted that? How long you’ve been waiting for it? How much you want me to fuck you between the apples and pears in the back of my van?”
“Yes, yes and oh my sweet god, yes!”
He wasted no time after that. Pulling me into the van, he made immediate work of ridding himself of his clothes. My god, he was gorgeous. All tanned flesh and hard muscle… he made my entire body shiver with delight.
With his pants and boxers around his ankles, he yanked my skirt up and pulled my moist panties down. The earthy smell of vegetation filled my nose, as we kissed again amongst the apples and pears.
His hip ground against my pussy, making me moan. His kisses were sweet and moist, and his body sweat and musk. I could feel his hard cock pressing urgently against my thigh.
“Wait! I don’t even know your name!” I cried out, immediately berating myself for putting a momentary halt to these luscious proceedings.
“Do you need to?”
“Well, I’d like to know who’s cock’s going to be inside me in a few seconds!”
He chuckled. “Mine.”
He settled over me, his breath hot on my skin. His eyes were dark and full of lust. I felt very aware of lying semi-naked in a fruit van in the middle of Covent Garden. But the kiss that followed more than made up for any hesitation I might have had.
As we kissed, he ever-so-slowly rotated his hips. I could feel the pressure of his erection against my wet lips and it drove me wild in a way I hadn’t really felt before.
“D’you… d’you have a condom?” I stammered, when he momentarily broke away. He fished into his pants and pulled one out with a triumphant grin.
“Of course I do. I’m a good guy, you know.”
I watched him sheath himself and uttered, “Christ, I hope you’re not.”
Grinning, he pushed my legs apart and straddled me. He entered me, ever so slowly, and my breath faltered. He filled me, and when he moved, the friction was almost unbearably pleasurable.
He pressed his lips to my ear and whispered, “You gorgeous woman. I’ve fancied you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
A weird giggle-gasp escaped me. He continued his quest to sex me up aurally. “How could I resist you?” he growled. “With those full lips, wrapped around my grapes…”
I wrapped my thighs around his waist, because fuck, I wanted him deeper. My fingers etched marks into his strong back.
“Oh Jesus, right there,” I whimpered, as he hit just the right spot. He sped up, his hips flowing in a smooth rhythm.
“There, right? It’s good there, isn’t it?” he breathed.
“Fuck. Yes! Fuck me harder!”
He pounded into me, and every single sense became amplified. The sound of his balls slapping against my cunt, the rocking of the van, the ever-increasingly sweet smell of the fruit surrounding us… it was so much to take in.
“Oh Christ. Oh god, oh god …” he cried out. “I can feel you. I can feel your pussy…. Oh god!”
He sped up to an almost frantic pace, only to fall completely rigid and emit a thundering cry. As he climaxed, he leaned over me and kissed me again, half moaning into my mouth. Whilst he rode out his pleasure, I felt myself burning and tensing up. My climax made me gasp for air, and it took me a while to get my breath back.
Every tiny nerve ending felt sated. He lay on top of me, trying to compose himself.
“Well… that’s a… lovely way to spend a lunch break.”
“I’d say I can think of other ways, but nope.” I said, before drawing him into a languid kiss.
“Hmm… you’re one hell of a customer.” he chuckled. “And you taste better than anything that grows in my garden.”
“Maybe you should plant an entire allotment of me then?”
“An entire allotment of Pound Ladies? I’m not sure my libido can handle that!”
“Right, best to keep it at just the one then! What time is it?”
He checked his watch and let out a heavy sigh. “Five to one. I’ll need to be getting back soon.”
“Fuck. I’ve got work. Fuck work.” I pouted. “I kind of want to stay here.”
“Well, we can’t just lie here naked between the fruit forever!”
“Why not? We’ve got food and we’ve got entertainment in each other.”
He wiped a stray lock of hair from my brow. “We could also do the sensible thing and see each other again some time. You know, outside of the space of this van or the market.”
“Are you suggesting a date, Mr. Greengrocer?”
“Tonight, after I get off from work. We could go out to dinner and catch a show. Or I could cook for you.”
“Or… we could just do this some more…” I suggested, biting my lip waiting for his answer.
“I like the way you think.” he grinned. “How about I make you the most saliva-inducing, heart-pounding, orgasmic dessert you’ve ever eaten?”
I grinned back in reply.
After we got ourselves decent, we headed in separate directions. A while later, staring out of the window in my office, I let my mind drift back over our van liaison. I didn’t know what it was, but something told me that the vendor was a guy I was keen on getting more of.
And with an unfaltering grin on my face, I bit into his juicy apple.
© Jillian Boyd, 2012