Zucchini Cake

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A woman puts a zucchini to good use.
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Mmmm. Another event to celebrate—my husband's birthday. I pulled the covers over my head and slithered down his body, stopping first at his nipples, then at his belly button and then at his stiff prick. With the covers surrounding me it was like I was in a dark cave, so dark that I could only find my away around by touch. Of course, I was using the tip of my tongue to do the touching so I used my imagination a lot to help me visualize what I was doing. That upped the level of intensity quite a bit.

I dragged my tongue along the bottom of his cock until I reached his opening, pausing a moment to taste the salty precum. Swirling my tongue around, I put just the slightest amount of pressure on my lips and began to leisurely take him into my mouth.

A thrill ran through my body when he moaned. I trembled when he reached down and ran his fingers through my hair. When he applied pressure to the back of my head, forcing me down on him, I almost came. I was ready to begin some serious sucking when, unexpectedly, he yanked the covers off my body.

As I adjusted to the dim light in the room I heard him whisper, "As much as I was enjoying that, I want to see you. Come on top of me."

It was his birthday. I was supposed to be pleasing him. Our love-making was so intense, though, I'm not sure who got the most pleasure. Not only did I climb on board and take him inside me as deep as I could, I leaned back, placing my hands on his knees, so he could watch his cock slide in and out of me. When he squeezed my nipples I just about exploded, my orgasm fueled by the hot jism he was blasting inside me.

I fell forward on top of him, gasping for air, and laughed. "That was fast," I said.

"And fantastic," he said. "Am I gonna get my usual birthday present later tonight?"

I sat up a bit and smiled at him. "Of course. Along with another one of your favorites—zucchini cake."

"Oh, man," he said. "Zucchini cake and..."

I put my finger on his lips and whispered into his ear. "Shhh. Don't say it. Just think it. Think about it all day."

He put his hands behind his head and sighed. "As if I'll be able to think about anything else."

******

Well, I could hardly think about anything else either. My legs were still wobbly when I got to work. It was as though my orgasm and my anticipation of giving my husband his birthday present had sucked all the energy out of me. I don't know how many times I had to go to the ladies' room to rub my clit, but doing that only increased my lust. I mean-seriously-I wasn't about to come in the rest room. I'm too noisy for that, so I just let my frustration build.

I left work two hours early to get the groceries I needed for the birthday celebration—filet mignon, some champagne and, of course, zucchini. My recipe called for two cups of grated zucchini and experience told me that an eight inch zucchini would suffice. I could get a bigger one but, you know, waste not, want not.

As I perused the bin holding the zucchini I found an unusual one. It was the right length—eight inches—but was also shaped like the letter J. The end of the zucchini curled around and was about three inches long and, unlike the rest of the zucchini in the bin, still had a lot of the stem attached. That part was brown with a rough texture. As I stared at the somewhat mutant zucchini it seemed to be calling to me—buy me, buy me. I decided that it was a zucchini fit for a special occasion, so, of course, I bought it.

I raced home and got everything ready to make the cake—bowls, mixer, flour, eggs, nuts and my food processor. I'm not one to shred a zucchini by hand. It's too time-consuming and I usually wind up scraping skin off my fingers. Satisfied that I could make the cake as though I were on an assembly line, I jumped in the shower, dried off and put on my favorite royal blue short robe—and only my short robe.

My first chore was supposed to be the shredding of the zucchini. When I picked it up, however, I squeezed it to check its firmness and was shocked that it felt exactly like a stiff prick. It was firm but still gave just a little bit. On top of that the skin was smooth and almost silky. Again it seemed to call to me—use me, use me.

Use me? What could it mean? I began to think that the zucchini was demonic because, after about a minute of staring at it, I understood what it was telling me. I almost ran to the bedroom, whipped off my robe and slowly—very slowly—began to ease the zucchini into my pussy. Oh, God. It felt so good. The cool skin mixing with my hot innards created an unbelievable sensation.

When I had it about six inches inside me the stem began to press against my back door. Dare I? The demonic fruit called to me—do it, do it. "Yes," I whispered. "I will."

Moving even more slowly I slid the fiendish fruit even deeper, moaning as the rough edges of the stem caused me both pain and pleasure. "Harder," it said. "Faster."

I jammed the green monster into both my openings as deep as I could and turned it into a piston that plunged in and out of me. I screamed at the top of my lungs when I came but, before my orgasm subsided, the zucchini whispered, "Again. Harder and faster this time."

Harder and faster. I thought that was impossible, but it wasn't. I used both hands to jam it inside me, moaning, "Uh...uh...uh...uh..." with each thrust. Finally I let out an animalistic howl that echoed throughout the entire house.

I was spent, almost unable to move. The demon zucchini, however, was buried so far inside me that it required quite the effort to remove it. When I did a torrent of my juices flowed out of me, creating a puddle on the bed. "Just great," I mumbled. "I'll have to change the sheets." I sighed and, using one finger, picked up the zucchini where it curled upward. I couldn't believe how my juices made it shine. I was also fascinated by the long strings of viscous liquid that dangled from it.

Naked, I made my way carefully to the kitchen. I cut off the stem and, without washing the zucchini, dropped it into my food processor and shredded it. My juices seemed to coat the sides of the food processor so, not wanting to waste them, I used a spatula to scrape the shredded zucchini and my juices into a bowl. I then assembled the cake, shoved it in the oven, changed the sheets, showered again, flopped onto the bed to rest a bit, played with myself in both the places the zucchini had been, put on my robe, ran back to the kitchen, took the cake out of the oven and ran back to the bedroom again. I was unable to relax, though, because my husband walked into the house and called to me.

I was so weak from my orgasms that I could barely walk, but the lecherous look my husband gave me seemed to energize me.

"Wow," he said. "You look fantastic—kind of wild. Anything happen?"

"Uh uh," I said. "I was just rushing around to get the cake done. Would you care for champagne?"

"Sure," he said. When he tried to undo my robe I slapped his hand away. "You're just gonna have to wait." I was about to tell him about the filet mignon when I heard the zucchini's voice in my head—eat me, eat me.

Trembling, I said, "I...um...bought some filets but I...I think we should have some cake and then, you know, I'll give you my present."

"Sounds good to me," he said.

My hands were shaking as I cut off two slices. When my husband opened his mouth to take a bite all I could think of was his cock in my mouth. I almost giggled when he said, "Oh my God. This is the best you've ever made. There's something different about it, something I can't put my finger on."

I slid off my robe and pressed against him. "Yeah," I said. "It's a secret ingredient. A special one. Come on. It's time for your present."

Normally I would have gotten our tube of lube but the demon's words echoed in my mind. "Eat me," I whispered. "Eat me."

Oh my God. I writhed and wiggled like a maniac as his tongue probed me. After a couple of minutes I rolled onto my stomach and repeated the zucchini's words. "Eat me," I said. "Eat me."

I came in a heartbeat when his tongue probed my tight hole. The next words out of my mouth were mine, not the possessed zucchini's. "Fuck me," I cried. "Take your birthday present."

"I...I'll get the lube," he mumbled.

"No," I shouted. "Just do it." After all, I had done a lot of preparation with the zucchini and was ready for him.

******

Well, he really enjoyed his present—twice. I could barely move afterward, but had enough energy to laugh when he said, "I don't know what got into you but...well, let's just say that the lack of lube made my present even more intense."

What got into me? I'll never tell.

Then he added, "Whatever that secret ingredient was, use more the next time. The taste was unbelievable."

"Mmmm," I murmured. "Okay. I'll use more." I guess I'll just have to get a bigger zucchini.

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1 Comments
ImYourRIdeImYourRIdeabout 7 years ago
Excellent story!

I could learn to love zucchini if it was prepared like that. :)

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