Green Man Pt. 02

Holly enjoys her new kitchen utensils. When her husband Joss gets home from a business trip, she serves him dinner so that he uses the bowl and spoon. Soon, he too is drawn in by its powers.

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In the week that followed, Holly was at loose ends. She loved her house but had come to be disappointed in how arranged it all looked, like something in a catalog. It was a feeling that had come to her that day she had gone to the fair. A feeling the carefully curated décor was somehow not what she wanted or liked. On Tuesday, as she dressed for work, she found she was not so self-conscious about the outfit being stunning. She needed less to dress to impress: rather it felt better for her to experience comfort rather than couture.

Holly found herself using the spoon and bowl very often. Due to the selection of wood, the fact that it was not sanded, and the special finish applied, both the spoon and bowl remained polished and smooth even after washing in hot, soapy water. There was no need to oil them or to avoid certain foods. They did not stain when she mixed berries and cream. The grain did not raise when she used the spoon to stir a pot of soup, nor the bowl when she ladled the hot liquid into it.

She just loved sipping soup from the wooden bowl with her spoon, tasting it, seeing if Goldilocks-like it was 'just right.' Did it need a little more seasoning - a little more salt?

The cunning spoon continued to please her when she sat in front of the gas fireplace with legs spread and lips swollen. The magic of that slender spoon feeling so large inside her made her rush to get home from work, bathe, and attend to her feminine desires.

Holly masturbated every night that week in front of the fire. She wanted to take a movie of herself so she could see how she looked when she was pushing the spoon into her tunnel, rocking on it as she built to an orgasm. She would send the video to Joss who was still away, inviting him to jerk off watching her. In her heart, though she knew the arousal she experienced over the last week was not what her husband would feel.

She knew what Joss would do for stimulation. He would likely watch porn alone in his hotel room and stroke himself to an orgasm. She knew. She had seen his internet history and noticed how his tastes were changing. As he grew older, so did the women he liked to look at. Even older than she was. Was he trying to imagine how she would look in 10 or 15 years?

Something else was taking more of his attention: Men. Her nose wrinkled a bit when she saw the first images. He didn't seem to search for gay men fucking each other, but he had many pages of history with images of hard, strong cocks. He must have been comparing himself to them. Holly knew the pain entailed in such comparisons. She had, herself, been plagued with the tendency to compare herself against other women and usually found herself lacking. Poor Joss. Would he also find himself smaller and less manly than the men whose cocks he stared at on the screen? Quite possibly.

Lately Joss's history showed he had watched men jerking off. Mostly they were alone, shooting their heavy loads into the empty space in front of them. She found them quite stimulating to watch, and she recognized as she scrolled through the pages that her panties were getting wet.

Then there were videos of men jerking each other or even giving one another blowjobs. "Was he becoming gay?" she wondered. It wasn't wrong, exactly, Holly reasoned. In fact, she could imagine herself making love with another woman and still fantasized about that now and again.

Holly was mollified somewhat by following his history and seeing he also watched women giving handjobs to men. There were GIFs and videos of a woman jerking several men at the same time. Men on massage tables, side by side with a busty girl between them jerking and making them spurt; men by swimming pools with slim, a less ample girl crouched between them; men... but there were these other videos of men frotting, jerking, and even sucking. So the question remained: "Was Joss becoming gay?"

No! Men don't just become gay and certainly not from looking at other men. Maybe Joss just needed more stimulation to get himself hard enough to masturbate and needed something kinky to look at in order to cum. Holly felt sorry for Joss. The handsome, funny, artistic man she married was now a money-driven workaholic jerking-off in the basement looking at other men, needing something new to get his tired cock up in the air.

Joss came home on Thursday exhausted. He was surly from not eating; the food on the airplane, even in first class, was dull and unappealing. He was frustrated with the deals he was getting. He was making money for the company, but it sucked his soul from him. He was not growing in any real sense, was not growing in knowledge, in experience, in skills, or spiritually. He certainly was not happy. And even his relationship with Holly had grown dull. He was headed to a dead end.

He had spent thousands of dollars on tools and air-dried lumber, intent on making furniture. He wanted to do something real and practical - not just make money. He liked to carve and used to forage in the forest for crooks and bents of green wood, in order to carve spoons. But the lumber and tools sat in his shop gathering dust and rust. The joy of woodworking seemed like one of those experiences you have on vacation but cannot bring home with you.

Slogging his bags from the car trunk, he plodded up the walk. When he stumbled in the door, his tired mind dully registered a difference. Had Holly rearranged things again? God, he hoped not. He was tired of hitting his shins on furniture that was suddenly in his usual path. No, the house seemed the same.

It was the smell. Holly was cooking something savory. He entered the kitchen and saw her at the stove stirring something. She looked up and smiled, then walked over to him and threw her arms around his neck. He did not return the attempted kiss full on the mouth and ducked his head so her lips landed on his cheek. He did hug her though and felt that she was naked under the flannel shirt she had knotted at her waist.

His hands slid along her sides and he felt the curvature of her breasts through the material. Instead of pushing her away, hoping to avoid having to talk, his hands came round to the front and he placed them on her breasts. She held him still, but pulled back slightly to let him have access. Her breasts filled his palms and he kneaded them gently causing her nipples to firm up.

"Mmmm... That feels nice. I've missed you," she purred.

"Me too," his surliness began to wane in the presence of her warmth. "What are you cooking? It smells great."

"Just some soup. Same recipe. I just took my time getting fresh vegetables and slicing them rather than buying frozen. I left the fat in longer to add to the flavor." She never would have allowed even a morsel of fat to enter her cooking before. Too much cholesterol and all that fuss.

Joss did a mental shrug and just nodded. He went upstairs, showered, and returned to the kitchen about 20 minutes later dressed in his pajamas, robe, and slippers. By that time Holly had fresh bread and warm butter sitting on the table next to a soup tureen. She was relaxed in a way he had not seen in years. He thought she was prettier than he had noticed in years. His friends always complimented him on how Holly always tried to remain attractive when their own wives were content to go around in mom-jeans. Tonight, he felt close to her, comforted by her calmness. It was a strange feeling of peace contrasting with the their intense competition to be the perfectly settled, successful couple.

He sipped his scotch as Holly finished laying out the dinner. Holly intended to serve his soup in the wooden bowl. He did not recognize it. The wooden spoon she lay at his place was also new. He noticed immediately that it was carefully executed. He knew the carver's knife was razor sharp. The surface was polished, not sanded. He recognized that his own carving was paltry compared to this work. The recognition reminded how his creativity was sapped from him by the success of his job. He was losing skill with each month that passed without touching his tools.

"Where did you get these?" lifting the bowl and spoon to her.

"A farmer's market in Darlington. I thought you'd like them."

"Did you see the guy who made these?" Joss asked, still inspecting.

Casually, she said she had, hiding the flush that spread across her throat.

"We can go this weekend and see if he is still there. He's a strange man with wild hair and wears a sort of kilt. But I think you would like to see what he makes. Maybe you can get some pointers!" She was trying to encourage him, but it only brought out the surliness. Joss, like his friends, was intensely proud of his own work, even if he knew it was poor. And he quickly found fault with anyone else's woodwork. No, he would definitely NOT ask for pointers.

"Yeah, well..." His voice trailed off. He was surprised how heavy the spoon felt despite its delicacy. He observed the acorn finial and turned the spoon over. His brow furrowed as it came to him just how like a cock it looked. No. That couldn't be. Yet, the acorn cap certainly did look like a foreskin peeling back over the crown of a cock.

Holly dipped his soup into the wooden bowl. He snapped at her.

"You know you can't do that. The finish can't take the heat and the liquid. You'll ruin it. How much did you pay for this stuff anyway?"

"I don't recall," she said honestly. "But I've been using them all week and they've held up well. I'm sure we could take them back and ask for advice on how to take care of them."

Joss snorted in resignation, "Yeah, well..." He took the bowl rather more firmly from Holly's hand than he should have done and dipped the heavy spoon into the steaming contents and stirred.

The soup smelled deep and rich, peaceful even. He was surprised with that description, but there was no other way to explain the effect it had on him. The smell was calming, made up of many faint whiffs of elements just beyond his ability to recognize. He pulled the spoon out to see if the heat and moisture had raised the grain. It was as smooth and even as before.

He dipped a spoonful and blew across it chasing the steam away lest it burn his lips. As the spoon slid into his open mouth, Joss noticed how it felt on his tongue. Like glass or silver, it was so smooth and pleasant to feel. As he pulled the spoon out of his mouth, he let his lips glide across the hollow, wiping it as he did.

He looked again at the spoon. What was it finished with? How did he carve this? What kind of wood seems light but has such density?

Joss savored every spoonful of soup he took. He sopped up the last drops with a piece of bread. The soup was incredible. Holly really went all out on this meal.

When the bowl was empty, he inspected it too. "Did the guy have a lathe at his booth?" She said he did not. He had a block of wood to chop upon and sat on a stool carving, but she did not recall seeing a lathe. In fact, she was surprised she could recall even that much.

"Do you know his name? Is he someone from around here?"

Holly stammered a bit. "Green or Greenwood or something. I really don't remember. He was quite odd but not in a scary way. He just seemed, well, different. You'll just have to see for yourself."

He carried his bowl to the sink still turning it over inspecting.

If it had been turned, Joss could not see how the bowl blank had been attached to the lathe. It was too symmetrical to have been chopped out with an adze. Wasn't it? This guy was good.

Joss had to admit to himself, the finish was not something he was familiar with. Deeply polished yet not shiny or built up from layers of varnish. The bowl also seemed heavier than it should, the rim softly meeting the walls both inside and out. He set the bowl on the counter and stepped back to observe it. The shadow line beneath as it sat there made the bowl seem to float.

He was impressed at how well the spoon and bowl went together. He grasped the spoon and dipped it into the empty wooden bowl observing how they seemed to have been made to match each other. Standing at the counter he began to stir the empty bowl with the spoon fascinated how their shapes blended before his eyes. It was the same hypnotized motion Holly had done at the market. Holly watched him, knowing how it had affected her last weekend. He seemed lost in thought as he stirred.

He became rather unaware of anything else but the bowl and the way the spoon went round and round. He pressed down hard as he stirred, focused on the way the wood rubbed on wood, the sound of trees in a breeze. Joss's attention focused on nothing but the wooden instruments in his hands. Holly noticed, but Joss did not, that he was getting an erection in his pajamas. His cock found the opening and began to peer out. He did not notice cool air playing on his cock after the sudden exposure. He was too entranced by the way the spoon and bowl danced in his hands.

Joss's cock got very hard; his foreskin slid back, exposing the deep purple, smooth head of his penis. His cock resembled the finial on the end of the spoon he now held. From the slit in the end of his cock, a clear droplet seeped out and began to fall. Holly moved closer to him and got to her knees fascinated by the thread of silver dangling from the end of her husband's penis.

She had loved watching him jerk off when they were first married. She liked how strong his cock was and how his semen flew out and splashed against his skin. It was sometimes so forceful it would hit him in the face or on his throat. She used to tease him about making 'A New Land Seed Record' as his cum flew higher or farther. He used to let her watch him, but now he hid himself, masturbating privately in the basement.

Tonight, she watched Joss's untouched cock grow and stiffen. The pre-cum flowed more heavily and she wondered if he would soon get so aroused he would ejaculate. The bowl and spoon had brought her orgasm to fulfillment and she was glad that it seemed to produce the same effect on him.

Joss's breathing deepened and he seethed a deep groan between clenched teeth. "Gggghhh..." Involuntarily, his hips started bucking, his cock stabbing the air. Holly's face was so close she felt the heat as his penis pierced the space in front of her. He did not seem to be aware of her there.

Then she saw the shaft get redder, swelling in its hardness. The tip seemed to change shape and the slit at the end opened. The first volley of cum merely poured out, a gentle first spurt following the arc of the pre-cum downward to the floor. It hit Holly's bare knee. Then he erupted in a gale of hot semen. His outhrust cock shot cum at Holly. She opened her mouth to catch it, but was not fast enough. It smacked against her lips and chin. Another splashed her nose.

His cock danced wildly, spraying cum all over her face and hair. Holly reached for his cock and circled it with her delicate fingers. She stroked him as he finished, directing his cock toward her lips. She caught the next four spasms though, swallowing as fast as she could so as not to waste a drop. Holly leaned forward to take him in, feeling his cock filling her mouth as full as the spoon had filled her pussy.

As Joss's orgasm subsided he looked down at his lovely wife. He was surprised to see her there. Had not seen her kneel, had regrettably forgotten about her in his... his what? His stirring of a bowl with a spoon? Her hair was wet with his cum, her face white with strands of semen. She had his cock in her mouth, looking up at him. Though his cock was very sensitive, he did not try to pull it out of her. He let it deflate in her mouth, standing above her, grateful she was with him, grateful she wanted to suck his cock again after so many years.

When she at last freed his cock, he placed the spoon in the bowl on the counter and pulled Holly upward to stand in front of him. He leaned in to kiss her and dove his tongue into her mouth tasting his semen on her tongue. Their tongues danced together, kissing her properly, as a man should kiss his wife. Then, with her face in both his hands, he began to kiss her cheeks and nose, licking the now-clear fluid from her as it began to flow in rivulets. Consuming his own semen, as Holly had already done, he tasted it in her mouth.

He had only timidly tried to taste his cum once before. Many men love the idea of tasting their own cum. The idea fires a man's arousal while he jerks his cock. Thoughts of it spurting up and right into his mouth, only it probably won't fly so high; thoughts of sucking his own cock, only he cannot reach; thoughts of tasting his own cum in his girl or another girl perhaps; thoughts, maybe, if really aroused of tasting another man's cum. Until he ejaculates, that is. Then the thrill turns to disdain or even disgust.

Tonight, though, Joss found that he actually liked licking his semen from Holly's skin, feeling her smoothness on the surface of his tongue, tasting himself as he did. His kissing of Holly's semen-coated mouth surprised him and the more so as he began to lick her skin.

When he kissed her again, Holly knew in a flash what she had puzzled about last week, trying to discern the finish on the wooden ware. It smelled the way Joss tasted: earthy, slightly salty, manly. It came to her with a jolt that the strange man with the hard cock he had casually half exposed must have used semen as part of the finish to his wooden utensils. Was that why this simple set of kitchen tools had such a powerful sexual effect on her? And now Joss? It couldn't be surely? Yet, yet...

Holly was not repulsed by the idea of the strange mixture of whatever substances made up that wood finish. Instead, she could hardly wait to attend the market this coming weekend. She wanted to see him again. For Joss to see him.