It’s an old cliche: the bored housewife decides to use a cucumber as a masturbation device. I had joked about surveying the produce aisle for sex toys, but in all my years as a sexually active woman, I had never placed food in my vagina. In fact, Nikki and I have preached, “NO FOOD IN THE VAG” for as long as we’ve had this blog. Because let’s face it, the vagina is a delicate ladygarden. A cucumber, though, with it’s protective peel and generous girth… I mean, it really gets one’s imagination spinning. Right?!
Last Wednesday found me seated in a plush chair facing the flatscreen of my computer, my thighs spread wide for sir to see. I was nude and carefully positioned so that I was completely exposed. He stared at me from beneath heavy lidded eyes and gave me instructions in a voice that made goosebumps ripple over my flesh. It didn’t matter to me that half the world separated us physically. He was my Dominant regardless of distance, and despite the prickly feeling of vulnerability, I responded in the same way that I did when he was directly next to me. The man owned me, body and heart. And my responses were partially the product of habit and training, and partly devotion.
His first command was that I fellate the cucumber. I blinked at him and felt ridiculous, but I did as I was told. I awkwardly placed the wide vegetable in my mouth, the taste of green peel coating my tongue. As sir coached me with encouraging words, I moved the cucumber in and out, pushing it further and further into the back of my throat. It was much wider than my esophagus and could only go so far. With watering eyes, I pulled it out and gasped for air.
“It’s too big, Daddy,” I said and wiped my eyes.
“You’re such a good girl to try. I miss your mouth, whore.”
I blushed and squirmed beneath his gaze, unbidden lust rising inside me. I had been so careful to keep my desires leashed. Shoved inside a steel trunk and wrapped in chains, they had sunk to a shadowy place inside me while I dealt with the sadness of sir’s departure. I had spent weeks mourning the distance that now separated us, and more than one of our calls had consisted of me weeping in front of the computer. My body missed him with a physical ache, but I refused to acknowledge how deeply that sexual need was rooted. Dealing with the day-to-day challenges of missing him filled my time. I wasn’t ready to open the trunk and feel all of that captive sexual energy pour forth.
A towel stretched beneath me to protect the fabric of the chair from lube and my own juices. A second cucumber and the bottle of lube sat on the table next to the computer, and I had two extra-large condoms nearby as well. Sir’s low voice demanded that I lube up the American cucumber. (The English cucumber was saved for my ass and a later date). I adjusted the angle of my hips so that they were raised slightly and squeezed more lube on to my fingers. My fingers worked the cool liquid around the lips of my pussy and then into the wet heat. I was physically ready, my body responding eagerly to the stimulus and my master’s presence.
Nervousness made my hand tremble as I placed the cold cucumber at the entrance to my vagina, and in slow increments, I pushed it inside. It felt smooth and alien, stretching me wide. I glanced up at the computer screen to see sir’s eyes widen and a slow grin cross his face.
“That is so fucking hot,” he said. “Now fuck yourself faster.”
I complied, my eyes falling to the side as I felt another blush start. Spreading myself open for another person wasn’t exactly new territory for me, but there was something extra dirty about being on camera. Maybe it was the anonymity of it even though I knew the man on the other side intimately. And then there was the foreign object that I used to impale myself. I felt wicked which lent an illicit quality to my masturbation. All these elements combined into a whirlwind that fueled my desire.
Every thought left my head, though, when I changed the cucumber’s angle to stroke along my G-spot. Suddenly my entire physical awareness snapped to attention, every synapse and nerve focused on the building pressure of an orgasm. My gaze met sir’s in an unspoken question.
“I want you to get close, but I’m not going to let you come. You’re not permitted to come,” he said sternly.
I nodded, too engrossed in the pleasure that rolled through my body. I was almost there.
“Please may I come, Daddy?” I panted.
“Beg.”
“Please please please may this girl come, Daddy? Please let this girl come for you.”
The words slurred in the rush to expel them. My hand slipped along the cucumber that was now slippery with my arousal. I could feel my inner muscles tightening in anticipation of orgasm, and the vibrations, both and internal, almost pushed me over the edge. The fantasy in my head imagined that I could feel
“Come for me, baby.”
The orgasm exploded, golden sparks of ecstasy sparking through me. My eyes squeezed shut, and I cried out, the cucumber falling from my hand. Sir murmured his appreciation as I fell back, my legs sprawled like a rag doll.
“You’re such a dirty girl barebacking a cucumber like that,” he said with a smile.
I giggled. “I probably should have bought organic.”
“Thank you, Daddy. This girl is happy to please you.” I made a motion to sit up, but he stopped me.
“Let yourself relax and enjoy this moment. There’s nothing but me and you. No rush. No responsibilities.”
Two months ago I would have placed my head on his lap so he could stroke my hair as I basked in the afterglow. That was impossible at the moment, so I smiled and let my eyes drift shut. Sir was right. For this brief space, it was only the two of us again. I loved being there with him, and at the same time, I acknowledged that it was fleeting. We couldn’t remain on Skype forever.
“Pick up the cucumber, babygirl. I want you to go again.”
I pushed away the bittersweet thoughts to grab the vegetable. Later I would peel and slice the still-warm cucumber for my salad. Dinner would be eaten alone with the erotic thoughts of my faraway lover and the echoing sensations of our electronic date. First, though, I had to orgasm again.
Want more #masturbationmonday? Check out Kayla Lords’s post and the other steamy, sexy participants!
Cucumbers are just as much fun with a partner–especially the long, seedless ones. A scenario from my past week: my lover lying at the edge of our bed, legs spread in the air, as I held my JimmyJane Form 2 on her clit, fucked her with the cucumber (gripping it with my teeth) and fingered her lubed asshole.
“I probably should have bought organic.”
LOL. Loved that line!
The consumable that keeps on giving.
Great post, Heather!
HK, I was amazed that I had enough brain function to make a joke. So glad you caught it. Thanks for the comment! xo
Now I know why my mom always hung out in the produce aisle. Duh.
Great story, and, as a huge fan of Skype, a wonderful reminder of why we all love technology so much.
thanks for sharing
Thanks, Advizor! Yes, Skype is my best friend at the moment. It makes it easier to sustain our relationship. Love, love, LOVE technology.
I have never considered using food to masturbate, but I could get on board with a cucumber if it ends like this.
I have to admit, Cara, that up until this point, I had completely underestimated the power of vegetables. Ha!
What about long red chillies?
RED! RED! RED!
First of all ((HUGS)) because I know the distance is damned hard.
Second, that kind of reminded me of my one and only time playing with a cucumber – under orders as well. I never have looked at the produce section of the grocery store the same way.
A good case for going vegetarian.