The Cucumber Chronicles

NOVEL · English

The Cucumber Chronicles

My husband has weird ideas on where to have sex, but this time he really surprised me. We've been married for over five years. Very early on he started helping me with my small organic vegetable stand on the weekends. I don't even make t...

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My husband has weird ideas on where to have sex, but this time he really surprised me.

We've been married for over five years. Very early on he started helping me with my small organic vegetable stand on the weekends. I don't even make that much money; it's just so I can share my homegrown produce with the community. This particular Sunday was way too hot, and the market was virtually empty. The produce was withering, and Jim and I were bored out of our minds. I started rearranging the vegetables, just to pass the time.

I was leaning forward, arranging the cucumbers, when they rolled away from me. I managed to catch all but one, which rolled to the floor. "Pass me the cucumber," I said to my husband while I stood bending over, struggling to arrange the ones still on the table. I extended my hand back, and I received it. But it was the wrong cucumber. This one was warm and firm to the touch, but unmistakably alive. I knew immediately what I had in my hand. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I said, turning around, but without letting go of his cock.

"Oh, calm down, it's just some harmless fun; no one is watching," he said and rocked his hips back and forth, sliding his length into my grasp. "So I guess you want me to go under the table and blow you as you pretend nothing is going on?" While I spoke, I continued the motion, stroking him lightly, all while looking around, making sure no one would see. "I'd love that," he said. "It does sound more fun than rearranging vegetables."

Just then someone approached. He lowered his apron to hide his erection, but it still formed a tent, even while sitting down. "Hi! This is one nice cucumber!" It was a bubbly girl. She handed me the fallen vegetable. "Yeah, it's homegrown, only a buck a piece. How many can I get you?" I replied. I noticed my husband smirking as his tent moved; he was rubbing it under the apron. "Oh, no, I couldn't. I can tell you're enjoying it too much," she said and turned to see Jim, who had to stop rubbing himself. "Maybe some other day. I'll leave you to it, for now." She walked away, swaying her bubble butt. She turned a couple of times to see us from the corner of her eye, just as I approached Jim and placed a hand over his tent. I saw a smirk form on her face, and then she was gone.

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