Yesterday, I had simply the best phone sex with a traveling salesman! A young man knocked on my door, selling fruit baskets. He had an uncommon accent for around where I’m from, so I asked if he was from Australia.
“No, ma’am, I’m a Kiwi.”
“Ah, New Zealand, then?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, why don’t you come in and get out of this heat for a moment. I just made some lemonade.”
“You’re a peach, ma’am, that would be great. It’s fucking hot out here. Whoops! Beg pardon.”
I laughed, and invited him in. Once in the kitchen, I poured him that lemonade, and I started peeling a banana for myself. He started eyeing me speculatively.
“I don’t mean to be rude, ma’am, but it’s been a long time since someone has popped your cherry, am I right?”
“You could say so.” I began eating the phallic fruit. He couldn’t take his eyes off of me.
“Would you, um, be available for a date sometime?”
“When?”
“… now?”
I put down the banana, knelt down before him, and began removing his shorts. Inside, I found a lovely cock, much thicker than the banana I’d been gobbling moments ago. I reached underneath and began massaging the balls the size of small plums as I sucked and stroked away. Soon, a currant of pleasure shuddered through him, and I felt his orgasm before he shot his load into my mouth.
“Wow, you’re as hot as a chili pepper, ma’am.”
“Chili pepper? Wait, what? I thought we were doing fruit!”
“Eh, tomato, tomahto.”
Whitney
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