lips thrashing together crushed them, and together we drank of their juicy sweetness, licking each other's lips and tongues and gums clean.
I moved my mouth down along her white throat and began to lick up every drop of syrup and suck up every morsel of crimson pulp on her round shoulders, licking downward to the sweet hollow between her breasts and sliding upward over each mound, doing my best at each point to suck up the hard strawberries of her nipples.
Slowly I moved downward across her flat belly, where the juicy pulp was rich and thick. Some of it had impacted into her navel, and I lingered there lovingly, emptying that sweet hollow of every last seed.
I lapped all across her abdomen and down across her hip bones to the soft resiliency of her upper thighs. Licking slowly inward across the smoother and smoother skin of her inner thighs, which now began to spread invitingly, I reached home.
Sliding my arm out sideways, I picked a handful of strawberries with one hand while spreading her red erected lips with the other. I crushed the fruit with my hand and gently pushed it up into her hot vagina.
I kept both lips spread with my hands and lowered my mouth to them while Sandy moaned and clasped my head with her thighs. I sucked, and slid my tongue inside her, lapping up the juice of the strawberries and her own intoxicating succulence.
The more of the fruit I retrieved from her cunt, the more juicy she seemed to become, until I could feel her start to quiver and buck under me. She cried out and stiffened up into my mouth and I could feel all her new juices come carrying her ecstasy into me.
I started to pull away, but she said, “Wait, Terry, stay just like that.”
I stopped.
“Now just spin around. I'm hungry too.”
Pivoting my tongue, I moved my body around so that my stiffened cock was brushing her mouth.
“Roll over,” she said, and we did. She picked more berries and smeared them on the insides of my thighs, over my balls and up and down my prick, up and down and up and down and up.
Cupping my balls lightly, she lapped around underneath them, then took them into her mouth and sucked them clean. She slid her tongue to the base of my cock, then licked all the way up its throbbing underside. When she reached the tip she said, “Look at this big strawberry” and took the head into her mouth, sucking fiercely. She slid her mouth down to the base and back up and down and up and then, holding the head with her hand, licked the rest of the strawberry pulp and seed from every pore with her furiously active tongue.
I had become so excited licking and lapping her that I was near the point of climax when she stuffed me back into her mouth and I could feel her beginning to come again too. As I felt her force her pelvis down juicily into my face, pinpricks of pleasure started to stab me all over the loins and I thrust up toward her throat only to feel her withdraw her mouth and use her pistonlike hand to pull me up to a blazing climax.
She had pulled her thighs away from me and was milking the last droplets onto my strawberry-smeared belly and abdomen.
“Now for dessert,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“A strawberry sundae with whipped cream.”
She bent over me and, starting at the base of my abdomen, licked upward, not missing a morsel of the strawberries nor a droplet of the cream.
When she reached my mouth we kissed long, fluidly and peacefully, as if our bodies were one, which they were.
“We better get back,” she said.
“What for?”
“Grandma must have lunch by now.”
“I don't want any more lunch.”
“She'll be hurt.”
“It'd be like-I don't know-I just wouldn't want to spoil the feast I've just had.”
“What would it be like?” she asked tauntingly.
“I don't know-it'd be like going to some old second-hand stale bread store to eat after you've just had a huge wedding banquet.”
She laughed, got to her feet and dragged me up with her.
“You've still got mush on your ass and your back,” I said.
“Do I?”
“Yeah. I better lick it off.”
She turned around and I started at her ankles, working all the way up around her ass and through its furrow up to the back of her neck. Then I turned around and she did the same for me. Only she lingered a little too long at my backside and when she inserted her tongue into my anus I shot up with excitement all over again. When she finished at my shoulders she put on her panties and shorts. I just stood there.
“Come on, Terry, get dressed.”
“I don't feel like it.”
“I can see what you feel like. Save some of it for later. We've got all afternoon, all night and all summer.”
“I want you now. Besides, there's plenty more where that came from.”
She pulled on her jersey and slipped on her sneakers.
“Well, if you're so excited you can stay here in the strawberry fields and play with yourself forever. I'm going back.” With this she took off running.
“Hey, wait,” I yelled, pulling on my shorts, grabbing my tee shirt and sneakers without putting them on and dashing after her. “Wait for me!”
FOUR
Halfway to the old brick house Sandy suddenly stopped and wheeled around. I hated her for a second as she stood there doubled up with laughter at my expense, and I felt like a fool, running like crazy with my pants falling down, with a shirt in one hand and my sneakers in the other.
“What did you have to run away for?” I said as I pulled up to her, panting. “I was coming.”
“I know you were coming. That's why I ran away. Now get dressed, silly. Grandma's going to see you.” She pulled up my pants, tucked in my cock and zipped my fly as I pulled on my tee shirt.
“You're a real bitch,” I said as I pulled on my sneakers.
“Come on, let's look real innocent now. Hold my hand.”
We walked briskly up to the house swinging our joined hands between us and smiling cherubically.
Grandma was in the kitchen when we entered through the back door. She was fussing around the stove with a wooden ladle in one hand and a pot-holder in the other.
Sandy walked up alongside her and shouted, “Can I help you with anything, Grandma?” The old lady jumped several inches off the floor, held her heart, then turned around and beamed.
“You're back!” she said. “Just in time. No, no, it's not quite ready yet, but you can help me take it up when it is. You want to get washed up or anything?”
“No, Grandma,” I said, “we feel just right as it is. We don't want to spoil it.”
“Where have you been all morning?”
“Out in the woods,” Sandy said. “Down by the stream.”
“That's nice. You look so rosy-cheeked and healthy, both of you. The fresh air is good for you.”
“Sure is.”
“Now you go in the living room, Terry, and Sandy and I will have lunch in a jiffy.”
I wandered where she said and flicked on the TV. A twelfth rerun of I Love Lucy. Trk. A giveaway show. Trk. Cartoons. Trk. A soap opera. Trk. The educational channel had basket weaving. Click.
I picked up a magazine. Worse crap. Some meaningless election they were having. The paper. All ads for ugly off-the-wall clothes that would probably fall apart in the first rainstorm and for big “last chance before the hogs get
