Dewberries

This story draws parallels and is inspired by KD Grace's published work "Cherries in Season".

*****

The sky was consumed in a dreary overcast, plashes of rain smeared the window as the drizzle set in. Frail foliage stripped of all produce was showered in the late afternoon sprinkle, the soil beneath turning to mud as it soaked up mizzle. The bed of dirt outside had begun to dampen and transform from solid to viscous, dark brown pools of mud fitting in with the darkened sky.

Mora pressed her hand against the window, feeling the frigid glass and relishing the warmth and comfort of the bedroom more than before. "You hear that, Miel?" She whispered. "There's a storm coming."

Mora's hand sought her wife's forehead, fingertips cautiously grazing along her smooth skin, ascending into the fields of opulent orange hair she tended to so diligently. Miel squirmed along the mattress, wriggling in place while Mora gingerly ventured through the apricot valley atop her lover's scalp.

The woman upon the mattress could only picture what her wife was wearing that afternoon. All she could manage to see was the mild shimmer of a sensual red glow filling the room. The rest was obstructed by the blindfold. She was left in the dark.

A mild unease persisted within her being, a subtle yet distinct tingle in her tummy knowing she was powerless.

Knowing she was Mora's plaything.

The farmer's hand had begun to grow more brazen, teasingly descending to Miel's cheek, then to her neck and finally settling upon her ample breast, forcing a breath of shock out of her.

Mora snickered, her finger scritching against the ropes driving through her bosom. Each rope was accompanied by another as they stretched above, below and in between her milky mounds, each end tying into a thick and firm knot behind her back. Anticipation had begun to get the better of Miel, ever increasing excitement from the deprivement of stimuli an accelerant to her breathing. Mora giggled.

"Excited, are we?"

The hold on her breast was gone, the sensation of gliding moving back into her hair. "You'll need to wait a bit. Maybe you should have a snack?"

Sensations dissipated once more as the bedroom floor creaked. Mora had stepped away from the yearning woman in the bed.

"I don't want a snack," Miel whined. "I want you. I hate it when you tease me like this."

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

An evident lie. Mora didn't seem to mind, though, laughing to herself as she made an exit. Miel was left to herself, left squirming in her cuffs and bondage, left wondering where her woman could have possibly gone.

Gentle footsteps echoed throughout the house, gradually growing more faded as seconds ticked by. "Is she going to leave me here?" Miel wondered silently. The cool wind from the overhead fan breezed against her curvaceous form as she fidgeted with her restraints, spreading her wrists apart as far as the chain allowed her to while her mind wandered.

Her blank driftings were impeded, the welcome feeling of Mora's finger grazing against her naval snapping her back into reality. A gentle plop could be felt upon the bed, the bound woman left questioning what it could have been.

Her internal inquiry was left unanswered, the lone finger resting atop her stomach slowly trailblazing upward to the ropes. Faint rummaging was barely audible beneath the low hum of the fan, though the nefarious giggle of Miel's partner was unmistakable.

"What are you up to?" She called out. Silence. Nothing but the still atmosphere greeted her call as Mora continued to stir, plotting some dubious deeds. Consternation began to brew inside Miel. "Mora? Hun? Are you-" She was cut off. A rotund and miniscule orb had been placed into her mouth. A blueberry. If not for a moment, it appeared to have quelled her, a delightful moan of pleasure escaping her lips as the ball was crushed into a delectable burst of juice.

"I said you would feel better after, didn't I?"

The farmer clicked, rolling another fruit in-between Miel's lips. It was slightly larger this time. Her tongue flicked and fondled this sphere, finally pressing it against her teeth as it began to secrete its delicious nectar. A particularly plump cherry, one freshly picked that morning. The pleasant taste of morning dew was still present on its outer coating, each hit of flavour a delicious dose of familiarity.

One last thing slithered inside her mouth. It was a tongue. It was the warm and flat and slippery tongue she adored every time it met her own. Without hesitation, Miel's tongue embraced Mora's, repeatedly licking the tip of hers up and down before they became intertwined. Mora savoured the fruity residue within her woman's saliva, an effective aphrodisiac as her glossa continued to poke and prod within Miel's damp mouth.

Low whimpers of lust forced themselves out of both mouths as the deep kissing persisted, more delicious cords of spit traded between the two before Mora finally forced herself away. A sultry bond of saliva was the requiem of their intimate act, soon snapping and splattering upon the knotted chest of the orange haired beaut.

"Dirty girl..." Mora snickered, her little finger brushing Miel's chin. She had begun to salivate, her lips hanging slightly agape as dribble trickled downward onto the bondage sandwiched between her breasts. "I'll assume you enjoyed your snack?" Mora smiled. She didn't need an answer. She knew damn well her girl was enthralled within the passion of their exchange. But she wanted to hear Miel say it.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I enjoyed you feeding me, Mommy"

"Good girl."

An unexplainable contentment always blossomed inside her hearing her title. Mommy... She thought. She was always a caregiver, she supposed. Ever since she could remember, she had always adored taking care of the animals she tended to as a lass. But this was different. Miel wasn't an animal. She was farthest from.

Miel was a woman. A beautiful, lustful and increasingly arousing woman that made Mora tremble with want. Breaking her left from the rope, it gently slid to the side, tips glossing along the silky smooth skin of her wife's breast.

The farmhand's fingers trotted along the woman's breast, continually poking and prodding to feel a satisfying pushback. Mora's pointer finger began to slide down, cautiously making its way to Miel's areola. With only a graze of the appendage, she felt her woman's nipple begin to grow erect, eagerly growing more stiff as the teasing went on.

Gingerly, Mora's tip sluggishly spiraled, slowly swirling as it homed in on her lady's teat. Her prolonged tease was rewarded with a sultry squeak and a tug on the cuffs. "Getting antsy?" Mora chuckled. Her partner shook no. But she was lying. Both of them knew that. The ever growing puddle of premature climax staining the sheet below was more than enough evidence. But Mora didn't mind.

It motivated her. It gave her the drive to keep taunting and toying with her beloved til' she was forced to ask for more, and that's just what she would do. Mora would rest her feminine tip atop Miel's mammilla, giving it gentle scritches to further aggravate her arousal. "Knock it off!" The ginger whined. She didn't knock it off. The contrary, in fact. Her fingers continued to dance as they always did, skillfully and sensually rolling the sensitive nub in between her digits. A part of her was tempted to pull back the blindfold. That part of her knew that if she did, she'd see heaven. She knew if she were to pull it back, she'd see those adorable little puppy eyes her partner had so effortlessly mastered. Those enchanting emerald eyes glossed over with the glint of desperate passion she had fallen in love with. But Mora restrained herself. Instead, she pinched. Her index and middle gently pressed themselves into the enamouring nip and began to pull, making sure to properly fiddle with it all the while. "Hunny!" The woman moaned, arching her hips. They slowly lowered back, the rest of her body wiggling all the while. "Hmm?" Mora giggled. "Maybe you need a bit more to eat? You seem awfully rowdy." Her gaze trailed downward to her woman's pelvis, soon drifting further south to her delicious pink pussy. An enchanting flower with gorgeous blush coloured petals, both of the pair glistening with delectable dew.

Knowing she had a hand in making her girl leak... It did something to her. She allowed herself to crawl upon the bed, her legs resting between Miel's as she got on top of her. "No, Mommy, I don't want-" she was yet again interrupted. Silenced by the overwhelming ecstasy of finally being touched. The blonde beauty slid her palm along Miel's entrance, occasionally scratching at Miel's lips just to further their shared lust.

"Don't try and speak, my love..." She whispered. "Just enjoy yourself for me. I'm well aware of what you want right now. What you need. Just look at you." Her body rose upward, getting a fulfilling eyeful of the bound and blind bombshell resting beneath her.

A woman with both hands placed obediently overtop her head with wrists kept locked together by cuffs. A woman with her perky breasts left exposed to her beloved. A woman with her lips swollen with need and leaking succulent nectar upon the duvet. Mora descended back down to her initial position, her head now resting upon the girl's mound with her mouth dangerously close to the stiff peak.

"It's very clear to me how much you need this. You're leaking an awful lot." Her gaze traced back to Miel's vagina. "How long has it been since I last made you come, darling? One week? Two?" A finger slipped inside. It wriggled its way inside with minimal issue, remaining dormant as Miel's tunnel clung to its new visitor.

"I know how much you want to come, darling. I was mean and edged you all week, didn't I? I'm sure you're jolly cross with me." Two fingers inside. Slowly driving themselves upward, hooking themselves snugly within. "But now, I'll be nice and make it up to you. You have my full permission to come, sweetie. You should still have that snack, though..."

She reached behind her, grabbing the basket of produce the both of them picked prior. Her hand hastily rummaged around, rolling several against her fingers before stumbling upon a particularly engorged strawberry. Sliding herself to the right side of her lover's body, Mora brought the fruit to Miel's lips, teasingly brushing the butt along her yearning labia before glossing it in the residue clinging to her clit. Her fingers initiated a withdrawal, though halting once they narrowly escaped.

Rather, they spread apart, making sure the inner workings of Miel's womanhood were on full display, ready and waiting. Mora's touch was gentle as a mother with her newborn, her free hand dedicated to caressing and fondling her woman while her middle finger slowly drove the fruit inside Miel.

The cool sensation of the false fruit melding with the erotic warmth of her flower made Miel shiver, wriggling about on the sheets as it was pushed deeper. "How does that feel?" Mora grinned. No response. None in words, at least.

The question was greeted with a loud whimper, bursts of frantic breaths repeatedly forcing their way from her lips. With a final nudge of Mora's finger, the strawberry was tidily tucked away in Miel's gash, the pedicel centred beautifully beneath a bewitching clit.

Only one measly strawberry had Miel beat, her hand desperately searching for her mistresses' while she panted. Mora skillfully evaded each of Miel's blind swings to find her lover's hand, smirking. "Aww!" Mora smiled, taking Miel's mitt in her own after a moment or two. The caring thumb of the farmer grazed over the back of Miel's hand, the motion of Mora's thumb brushing side to side against her lover's paw becoming habitual.

"It's okay, sweetie, you're doing great. Have a little more." Her other hand reached back, a generous handful of cherries and blueberries rolling in her sleek palm. "Mommy needs her hand back, hun."

Their contact was unfortunately broken, a low whine crawling out from the ginger's lips. The now unoccupied hand was left to spread her vagina, the blonde's thumb hooking the inside of her beloved's snatch, as if holding the door open as fruits were tenderly slipped inside.

With generous precaution and prolonged pauses between insertion, a new berry was placed within the crass cornucopia again and again. The diluvium of cherry, blueberry, and pussy juice began to seep upon the covers, pulse after pulse cascading out the deeper the strawberry was wedged. "You've made a mess, hunny." Mora teased, slithering downward.

Her head was resting comfortably on the doughy thigh of her partner, mouth - yet again - dangerously close to the volatile slit. "I'm sorry, mistress." Miel pathetically muttered, overshadowed by the sensual gasps and moans shooting out of her mouth like greased up cannon balls.

"Don't be." Mora was quick to reassure. "I'll clean you up. You can hold my hands again, if you'd like." With a delightfully devilish smirk she slid in between her lover's legs, hands traveling upwards to Miel's cuffed wrists. Without missing a beat, Miel grabbed upon her mistresses' hand, fingers immediately digging into the embrace while she struggled to contain herself.

Composure was a concept forgotten the moment Mora's fingers ventured inside her, cast aside and burned as her brain turned to liquid slurry, only used to focus on holding her climax.

The tip of Mora's tongue coming in contact with her swollen slit was blissful agony, an unexplainable injection of pure sexual ecstasy laced with the stinging of holding it in. Her lover's tongue refused to slide in so swiftly, taking special time to brush and paint Miel's labia in seductive saliva, repeatedly flicking and flipping her tongue over the succulent folds of flesh she had made so, so desperate.

Nothing grander than a squeal could come from the redhead's mouth, so many words dripping down upon dribble as she was left moaning and whimpering from the surplus of stimulus.

Transitioning from the fast paced siftings of her tongue, her wife smushed her tongue flat along the fruit packed fissure, longingly dragging upward and trailing back down, slow as a snail. Miel's mommy's movements were sluggish as could be, yet it had no hand in how well she performed.

Like a dehydrated dog Mora flipped her tongue up and back down, slurping up the combination of juices seeping from Miel's womanhood. With the precision of a skilled surgeon her tongue's tip found the ginger's nub, aching and yearning with desire, calling out for Mora to give her release.

And so she gave it to her.

With the utmost care, the farmer slid her tongue inside the canyon, rummaging deep within the luscious and lusty lair of flesh. It was cramped and crowded, her slippery tongue repeatedly swirling and brushing against various fruits still lodged snugly within her woman's cunt. This was as close to heaven as the both of them could get, and they were more than happy to remain with their heaven. Remain holding hands while Mora rolled berries out of the girl's gushing puss.

They tasted delectable, the natural sweet and savoury flavour of the fruit melding seamlessly with the arousing taste of her lover's arousal, all unifying to create an erotic cocktail fit for a queen. But it would be frightfully rude to keep all of that for herself, at least Mora thought so, at least. The fullness in Miel's vagina began to simmer, though the tongue clogging her up was more than enough to keep her satisfied. A bit too satisfied, Mora would say.

Miel had begun to cry a little, translucent drippings of overstimulation trickling down her cheeks as she squirmed in her bonds. "Mommy," she panted and whined over and over again. "I want to come, Mommy. Please?" Who would Mora be to deny such a cute little thing the privilege of orgasm?

"Of course, hunny." She nodded, an act of habit. "Come in my mouth." With that she was back to her duties, pursing her cush lips around the aching nub of her beloved and giving it a proper suck, euphoric vacuums of air encasing the engorged rosebud as all resistance crumbled.

Miel's muscles contracted as the tidal wave of fulfillment crashed over her, drowning the woman in a sea of satisfaction as the waves escaped from her filled opening.

Bursts of delicious discharge squirted from her urethra like flavoursome fireworks, mild plashes of orgasm spraying upon Mora's face as she diligently cleaned up any and all runoff. The minimal space within her pussy didn't seem as daunting anymore, knowing she could let all the juice and discharge flow freely.

"Good girl!" Mora was quick to praise. Her hand escaped from her woman's clutches, raising the blindfold to Miel's forehead. The dim red glow of the room greeted her squinting eyes, accompanied by the pretty sight of her partner tucked snugly between her quivering thighs.

"Doesn't that feel so much better?" Mora smiled, sliding her tongue back inside the damp pocket, hooking and removing a cherry with the prowess of her tongue. Crawling back on top of Miel, the farmer kissed orgasm-soaked berries into her lover's mouth, one by one, eventually needing to pluck the strawberry out.

The swift plundering of the scarlet plug forced a small aftershock to ripple throughout Miel's body, one final spritz of climax dazzling Mora's already discharge-drenched fingers. "Don't worry about that, hun," Mora was swift to reassure. "I'll clean you up. Let's have a snack before I make you nice and tidy. Does that sound good?" The blonde raised the strawberry, slowly driving it towards Miel's lips, glossing along them just like her southern pair.

"Say ahhh, darling." Miel immediately opened her mouth, soon corked by the delicious dew-slathered strawberry. The farmer flicked off the green cap off the provocative produce before inching it further into Miel's mouth, secured by her pearly whites. It was delicious.

She always cared for strawberries. Though, strawberries dipped in her own essence? They might have surpassed the original. She made a moan of delight, flashing her open mouth to show she had eaten every last bite.

"Good girl, good girl!" Mora punctuated her praises with a final kiss on the lips, then another on Miel's neck, slowly trekking downward to her flat stomach, her quivering thighs, and finally at her still dripping womanhood...

No more than an hour later, Miel had been sufficiently cleaned, the sheets were thrown into the wash, and the couple were sitting at their dining table, sharing a quiet moment over soothing cups of chamomile tea. The rain had not yet let up, still pitter-pattering into soggy plots of soil and mud.

The straw basket was sitting upon the table, offering both a nibble to eat as well as a reminder of what they did. The now untied and unchained ginger reached for a fruit, pulling out a singular blueberry. Chew, chew... A familiar leakage of sweet and savoury juice filled her mouth, soon swallowed and only serving as a memory. But it just wasn't the same. It still tasted lovely, of course.

Though, without anybody to kiss them into her mouth, a certain hint of flavour was lost to time.

She could only remember and relive the exotic, erotic taste of dewberries.