Lots about Me Ch. 10: Salads

um, just to be clear, this is about having sex with, well, food...

*****

I'm standing at the kitchen counter, chopping and peeling vegetables, making salad. It's not any particular salad, just a stuff in the fridge salad. There's cucumbers, though, and it's summer. That's going to matter soon.

I chop, and you turn up from wherever you've been, and come up behind me and start groping me and kissing my neck.

"Careful," I say, and keep chopping. "Don't bump my arm."

You don't, but you do grope me. You kiss and nuzzle my neck, and you finger me, while I chop. You pull my jeans open and finger me, and you get quite licky, too. And I get quite sighy and moany.

After a bit chopping is just dangerous, so I put the knife down. You turn me around, and kiss me properly, and tug my jeans open and down and off.

I kiss you back, and try to grope you too, but you say no, not right now, this is just for me.

We do this sometimes. I'm not sure if its weird or not, just to have sex for one of us, not both. So one of us now, and then the other later on, usually, but I like doing it like this. It's nice and intimate and trusting that we do, I think. That we both know we can wait, and we'll both still be here later. Something like that, anyways.

So you pull off my jeans, and I hop up on the bench, and you go down on me for a bit.

It's lunchtime, and all I'm making for us to eat is the salad and some bread. So there's no hurry, and no reason not to stop. I'm sitting on the bench beside where I was chopping, and the pile of stuff for the salad is washed, and on the bench next to me. I guess tomatoes, lettuce, cucumber, stuff like that. I'm boring sometimes. There's no kale and quinoa.

You lick me out for a while, and then you reach over for the veges. You reach over for a cucumber, while you're still licking me.

I kind of go, "Oh, no way."

You grin.

"You can't," I say, but don't actually stop you.

"It's washed, right?" you say.

I nod. "But you can't."

You do anyway. You lick me, and put the cucumber inside me.

You lick me how you know will make me come, and I do.

With the cucumber inside me.

Then you take it out, gently, and put it on the board. Then you pick up the knife, and slice the cucumber, and put it in the salad bowl.

I just watch.

"It's dressing," you say. "You're the dressing."

"I got that," I say.

I'm sitting there trying to decide if I'm horrified or not. Or if that's just incredibly sexy.

You pick up another cucumber, and move my knee to the side, because I've put them together with this all going on, obviously, out of some faintly horrified shock. You move my knees, spreading them, and then kind of finger me how you need to do to put something into someone else. Sort of spreading me and then sliding it in. Which you do. You slide it in, gently, and sort of turn it. Like honestly turn it, while you smirk at me, like to get it nicely wet.

Then you take it back out.

And then you cut that one up too.

"I'm so washing the board," I say.

You grin.

You go and get a carrot out of the fridge, and I can't quite believe we're doing this.

"Wash it," I say, and you do.

You wash it, then put it inside me, and it's cold, like the cucumbers weren't. The cold is quite nice, on a hot day.

You chop that to. Then you say lunch is ready.

And we go and eat. Salad dressed with me.

You eat more of it, all proud of yourself and grinning, but I eat too, because why not. I don't mind my own smell or taste or wet.

We eat our salad, and I can't actually taste anything different about it at all, but the idea is still kind of sexy.

Then we fuck all afternoon, obviously.

And then I tell you never to do that ever again, not ever. Because I don't know quite why it seems so weird, but it does. Sexy, and sweet, and kind of flattering, but totally weird too.