Not An Average Sunday AfternoonbyAkito01©
It was the very definition of a happy accident. A chance shifting of position, a clutching of the pillow to the chest, and the brush of fabric against bare skin. His dreams upon waking were of Susan; she lying there, so naked and vulnerable, yet so tantalizingly out of reach. Little surprise given their date the night before, when another heavy session of kissing and groping was curtailed by her staunch beliefs.
He had never argued against her convictions, to save herself in the way she wanted, but it wasn’t easy to live that way. Like any young man in full virility, his body was full of urges that wanted expression.
This morning, again very much true to form, he drifted into consciousness with the nagging strains of an erection. He was only dimly aware of the way he had been holding the topmost pillow, cradling it as one might a slender lover, the bottom edge trapped beneath his belly and coming against the glans of his turgid organ. Where before he would naturally reach down to clutch his manhood, his hips took over of their own accord, pushing his cock further into the yielding cushion of the pillow.
Without much thought or effort, Roe turned flat on this stomach, his prick now lying between the mattress and the pillow. It felt rather good to be compressed on all sides like that, to be enveloped in such softness. Moving his hips, he thought about how Susan looked last night, her short skirt and those dark pantyhose she wore. He wanted so much to get between those slender thighs of hers, and break the final taboo between them.
This masturbation was vastly different from simply stroking off with his hand. Here was full body involvement. His toes digging into the mattress, legs taut, he rocked back and forth in the instinctive unthinking movements of copulation. Hands clutching the bed sheets, he gasped and grunted in a blatantly vocal way, the ecstatic pleasure rising along with his pulse.
Wet trails of pre-cum stained the pillowcase in advance of the inevitable orgasm. No longer in the vague mist of waking dream, he desperately held onto the fantasy of Susan writhing beneath him, putting aside the nagging concern about what he was actually doing. He felt deliriously out of control, a sensation he never had while teasing and arousing himself by hand. The trigger of his climax was tantalizingly close, and he pushed even harder to trip himself over. He imagined thrusting deep inside Susan’s virgin cunt, finally despoiling her, making her his own with this most intimate yet violent act.
Muscles tensing all at once, Roe’s orgasm overtook him, thick gouts of semen spilling onto the bed. Even after the initial spasms had faded, he lay breathless on the pillows, his softening cock soaking in the sticky wetness of his spent passion. Too soon the spell was over. He rose onto his knees silently cursing the mess he’d made to his bedding. It would be one thing if it were just his sheets, but to pump all that nasty smelling semen into the pillow where he laid his head at night…
Taking his morning shower, he was still consumed with what he’d done. Washing the goo off his genitals, he continued to stroke and caress himself according to habit.
Roe was, by most definitions, a well cut young man. Lean but not skinny, one would have thought that the last thing this dark haired college student needed to do was jerk off in order to achieve sexual fulfillment. In fact, he loved Susan a great deal, and while he had met girls that were willing to be sexual, none had captured his heart as she did. To cheat on her was out of the question, which left him in this familiar scene -stroking his hardening cock under the warm flow of water in the shower.
Today was clearly different. As the pleasant sensations reawakened in this casual caress, he thought about how amazing it had felt to fuck his pillow. It was an embarrassing thing to have done –but what aspect of masturbation wasn’t embarrassing, really? The only real problem was the mess. His cock, now hard and sliding easily between his soap-slicked fingers, begged for an answer that would let him experience that again.
Quitting his self-arousal to finish his shower, he remained stiff and randy when he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He thought about calling Susan, but he decided he wasn’t in a fit frame of mind to handle that conversation right now.
Wandering into the living room, he glanced around, half thinking about breakfast, and half rubbing his manhood with the palm of his hand through the damp towel. There wasn’t a whole lot to see to inspire his imagination. The television, one potential avenue of eroticism, wasn’t going to fulfill what he was looking for today. There was the low coffee table, rather banal, and the couch, of course.
How many times had he thought of bending her over that same couch, knees on the floor while he took her roughly from behind? He could so easily picture her face, turned to one side, moaning into the cushion. Even though he knew it was a futile hope, he even kept a packet strip of condoms just in case his luck should finally turn. The memory of that recurrent fantasy gave birth to what was now an obvious bit of inspiration.
Quickly tearing open a packet, he rolled the slick sheath of latex over his rudely engorged cock. He’d only put on a condom once before, and then only briefly, just to see how it was done. It never occurred to him until this moment how useful the little things could be in the pursuit of self-pleasure.
Kneeling in front of the couch, he bent forward, just as he would bend over the turned backside of his elusive girlfriend. While his imagination conjured the vision of her bare and vulnerable buttocks, he guided the tip his protected member to the narrow gap between two seat cushions. Thrusting his hips forward, his prick penetrated the opening just as he’d penetrate Susan’s cunt.
Closing his eyes, Roe stretched out his arms to clasp the edge of each cushion. Slowly rocking back and forth, he began the motion of copulation. Any lingering worry about making love to a piece of furniture was pushed aside by the increasingly vivid fantasy in his mind, and the sheer visceral pleasure of the experience. Using his hands on the opposite sides, he could adjust the pressure being applied to his cock by the thick cushions. He gradually took longer and deeper strokes, reveling in the sensations of each penetration.
The condom protected his member from the friction, but the lubrication was not lasting. Completely buried between the two cushions now, his motions became short and urgent, barely moving at all. He was so close he could feel the pre-cum smearing against the skin of his glans. He grunted and gasped for air, pressing harder on each side of the cushion to increase the pressure. He thought of Susan, body squeezed beneath him and the couch, heaving and moaning much as he was. He thought of her cunt, and how it would feel to fill that virgin womb with his cum.
Fantasy and reality coming together, his cock grew taut, and after a breathless second, semen spat wetly into the reservoir tip of the condom. Fingernails digging into the cushions, Roe rode the crest of his orgasm, body frozen in place before finally letting out a long ragged breath.
He sat back on the carpet, head still buzzing from the experience. He removed the soiled contraceptive from his rapidly shrinking organ, now moist and sticky with the result of his climax. Once he’d regained his wits, he disposed of the condom and wiped himself clean with a fresh towel in the kitchen.
Not one of his proudest moments, he reflected; at least not something he’d ever admit to doing in mixed company. But, and he had to be honest, fucking the couch was actually about the best fun he’d had alone in quite some time.
What else? In the course of a quiet Sunday afternoon spent alone, he had nothing else to do but reflect on his morning escapades and wonder how much further he could take it. He wandered in distraction, trying not to look too closely at the couch, or the bed, but tempted to try again. He was fully dressed, but he constantly found himself reaching down to test the hardness of his erection beneath his jeans.
This was all pretty nuts, he decided. Roe had never thought of masturbation as much more than a necessary evil, a way of relieving the arousal after a night with his stoic girlfriend. To indulge in this kind of behavior seemed shameful and self indulgent –but the thoughts wouldn’t go away. What he did alone in his own apartment was his own business anyway. Who needed to know? And why shouldn’t he take some control over his sexuality for a change? It wasn’t as if he was cheating on Susan. If anything, wouldn’t finding more effective ways to pleasure himself take away the urgency to force Susan into doing something she wasn’t ready for?
He needed to get outside for a while. It couldn’t hurt to pick up a few things from the grocery store. At the very least, it would get his mind off self-abuse for a while. Walking out of the apartment, his stiff member wasn’t about to let him off the hook entirely. Putting on a blank face, he sidled across the sidewalk until the thing finally shrunk down to a manageable size and he could walk normally again.
Once inside the grocer, he wandered around, trying to get his mind off dirty behavior. Avoiding the faces of the other shoppers, it were almost as if he was hiding some terrible secret. He recalled hearing that the grocery store was a great place to meet and pick up women. He wasn’t sure how true that was –but, and this was a disturbing thought, could it be a great place to find something to masturbate with?
He line of thinking today inevitably led him to consider the erotic possibilities of the items he came across. He reflected that if he were female, there’d be no shortage of things he could use –just how many vegetables alone suggested a phallic shape? Even if one weren’t prepared to shove an entire cucumber up oneself, a modest carrot or zucchini would definitely suffice.
It was about this point that Roe spotted the watermelons. As full and ripe as a plus-sized woman’s bosom, their erotic promise caused him to pause. His eyes shifted, as if afraid someone nearby might overhear his thoughts. A watermelon, with an appropriate sized hole, would make a perfect sexual surrogate, would it not? He reached out to touch the smooth surface of a nearby melon, swallowing at the thought of his prick buried in the soft mushy interior.
It was so, so wrong to be thinking this way. He moved as if to get away, to escape his train of thought, but he took another pause. He recalled how good it had been to fuck the pillow that morning –not to mention the escapade with the couch. How terrible an experiment would it be to pick up one of those watermelons and take it home? What’s the worse that could possibly happen?
By the time he got home, he was as nervous as if he were about to commit some horrible crime. There was no getting around what he was about to do. The melon resting heavy in his arms, he decided not delay in this perverse endeavor.
Where does one go when one intends to make love to a fruit? Probably the same place you’d take a girl –to the bedroom. Placing a folded towel over the bed sheets, Roe placed the smooth green-black melon gently on top. Stepping out of his clothes, Roe was aware how strange and comical this would look to the outside world. But there was no one here to watch, and as he contemplated the unique sensations he would get from plunging into the soft red pulp, his erection began to grow in anticipation.
Wielding a small, sharp knife, Roe cut into the surface of the watermelon. He wasn’t sure exactly how large to make it, but figured it was better to go larger than smaller, and soon he’d fashioned out an irregular circle.
Having removed that section of rind, he examined the glistening red meat within, biting his lip. It was fortunate this was a seedless. Testing the interior with one finger, he found it firmer than expected. Thinking that it might be a problem, he stabbed the knife through the hole a few times to soften it up.
He felt vaguely nervous as he crawled up on the bed. It wasn’t as if he was about to lose his virginity, but this had to represent some kind of first in any event. Certainly it was his first plunge into something, well, biologic –not to mention a plunge into perversity. Reaching down, he stroked his member into full and firm erection, trying to evoke lewd images of Susan in his mind.
It should have worked, but he just couldn’t get past the actual physical reality of what he was about to do. Roe pictured how he must appear at this very moment; naked, crouched on all fours, penis in hand as the tip dangled over the open gash of the melon. Watching intently, he delicately pressed the tip of his cock against the wet insides of the melon. Susan, and any sense of propriety forgotten, he clenched a fist and drove his shaft down into the sopping red pulp.
He couldn’t restrain the strangulated grunt that burst forth as he penetrated. The melon had not been chilled, but it still felt cool against the sensitive skin of his prick. But it was so wet, so tingly, strangely granulated and… well, in truth he had no easy way to describe what he was feeling. Drawing himself up from the depths of the watermelon, he looked down to observe the thin red smears of pulp that clung to his rigid cock. Would it look this way when he finally took Susan’s maidenhead some time in the future?
Holding the firm surface of the melon steady with one hand, he hunched forward and began thrusting up and down. The pulp surrendered to his ravishment, opening up and allowing faster, more urgent movements. He pushed and pushed, the head of his cock acting like a pestle, creating a pool of water and mulched melon at the bottom of the hole. It was insanely nasty, but felt so good it would have been impossible to stop at this point.
Jaw tight, he could feel the pre-cum starting to seep from his glans. He wasn’t interested in watching what he was doing anymore. He was entirely involved in the sheer primal sensation of fucking, of moving his hips, of thrusting his swollen manhood into this soft, moist cavern. Much of the interior friction had given way, but the harder rind of the melon still rubbed at the base of his prick with each thrust. Alone in the sanctuary of his bedroom, Roe enjoyed the fruits of his selfish pleasure by finally releasing his sperm into the sopping and ruined insides of the watermelon.
The enterprise had been so exhilarating that he remained slumped over the reassuringly solid form of the melon for a good long while. His prick, completely soaked with bits of melon and his own semen, finally slid out of the hole he’d fashioned. He rolled over, gently caressing the flaccid organ as if to ensure it had survived the ordeal unharmed.
In the aftermath, the only sensible thing to do was to take a long cleansing shower and try not to think to hard about all this. On returning to the bedroom, though, the watermelon naturally remained as a nasty problem to be dealt with. It goes without saying that he DIDN’T eat it, though in the weeks after, Susan would wonder why he’d taken to buying a watermelon every weekend, and why he never offered her any.