It was my day off. I’d already whipped my boy out in the fields before dawn so, after a lazy lie in, we went out yet again for a daytime walk. We walked up the hill, with a picnic largely consisting of cheesy biscuits, carrots and cake.
As we walked up the slope we were passed by an old couple coming down, hand in hand. The air was still and the sun was shining as we reached the top and the trig point. There was no one else at the top and no one in view behind us so Mat took the opportunity to get naked and I took some photos.
I couldn’t miss out on the fun, so I handed over the camera and got naked too.
After our photo shoot we sat on the hillside and ate our lunch together. Relaxing in the sunshine. Finally we walked back to the car, meeting some other people going up who had no idea what they had just missed seeing.
It was Perrin who brought the sweetcorn home. Fresh from the field and with malice aforethought. He knew what I wanted to do with it.
Mat knew too, certainly when I picked it up in the kitchen and started looking it over reflectively. It wasn’t too large, possibly slightly under ripe and still attached to a short length of stalk.
I unwrapped the leaves, removed its hair and admired its natural handle. It might have been made for the purpose. In a departure from our usual lube for these games I used butter on it (what else) smearing it over the length and enjoying the texture under my fingers.
Mat got on all fours on the floor and I started to fuck him with it. He pushed back eagerly, loving the feel of the corn moving inside his ass. The stalk made it easy to hold as I worked it in and out of him to his moans of pleasure.
Once he’d taken it deep I took a moment to take a few photographs enjoying the aesthetics of its colour and shape. Such a pretty toy to use on my boy. Then I fucked his boy cunt some more. Loving the feel of it and knowing he was loving it too. Suddenly sweetcorn may be one of my favourite vegetables.
It wasn’t sold as a bitter melon. It was sold as a ‘karela’ with no hint on the packaging as to what you might use it for. It was fascinatingly knobbly and my curiosity was piqued.
Mat was less curious and more…well, nervous.
“That’s going to hurt” he said.
I grinned. There was only one way to find out.
When we got it home I did a little research. It seemed to be generally advised that you salt it to remove the bitterness and cook it with sugar and spices to make it palatable. That seemed like a lot of hassle. My use for it was a lot simpler.
In the kitchen I got out the olive oil as is usual for these explorations. Mat looked nervous but obediently got into position for me. I started to insert the karela gently into his ass but the sharp end was clearly too painful so I took pity on my boy and trimmed it into a kinder shape. Still despite our best efforts it didn’t want to go in far, and was clearly going to require constant persuasion.
I sat back then, to watch as my boy fucked himself with it and of course took the opportunities to take the odd photograph of the proceedings.
So while I couldn’t fault my boy’s performance in any way; the bitter melon itself was much less satisfactory.
Next time I’ll have to find something better.
He had said that he didn’t do puppy play. I’d never consciously planned on having a puppy so I took that at face value and didn’t think any more about it.
Then we found ourselves at a slightly kinky social engagement, and I had cause to send him outside to stand in the cold. I was just thinking about letting him back in when I saw him, crouching outside the door, pawing at the glass to be let back in, much to my delight and that of those people I was talking to.
Still he was not a puppy.
That spark of playfulness has certainly fed itself into a couple of my fantasies, and I found myself writing about a girl and her pet. His reactions to those stories were always positive.
But he was still not a puppy.
So on a perfectly vanilla day, Mat and I were out for a walk when we passed a family out for a stroll. They had a puppy with them, on a pink rope lead, who was straining excitably, bounding about as only a puppy can.
“What an excitable puppy” I was laughing.
“I’d be excited too if I had a pink lead”, Mat had barely finished the sentence before our eyes met and he knew his fate was sealed.
When we returned home I ordered a pink rope lead, the kind which comes with a collar built in. I said nothing about this of course; waiting patiently for it to be delivered. When I opened it in front of him his face was a picture.
I slipped it over Mat’s head, and petted him enthusiastically. I took him for a walk in the garden, and he played with me. I had puppy treats (mini cheddar biscuits!) to feed him as I trained him to sit and stay.
After the recent incident of the boy and the banana it was inevitable that other fruits or vegetables would eventually follow…
It started with a trip to a well known supermarket, to stock Mat up with groceries.
Over coffee (it was a very civilised shopping trip) we laughed over the helpful suggestion from one of our dear readers that a zucchini should be next in line for his ass. Luckily being reasonably fluent in American cooking I was able to translate that into (the more recognisable to English readers) courgette. At this point I suggested that our shopping should include a representative of this delicious vegetable, and was met with a beautifully disbelieving look. Continue reading “Five A Day – Back to the Supermarket”