Carrots for Lunch

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Big Tits

Note: This was written several years ago. I recently discovered it in my document archive and thought it seemed appropriate, given the increase in working from home during 2020.

————

“Come here.”

I look up from my computer and realize it is nearly lunchtime. David is working from home today, and I wonder if he’s hungry, yet. Maybe he wants to go out for lunch today? We don’t get the chance to eat without the kids very often. I have lots of errands to run out for later, but it had been nice to have a morning at home.

I head out to the kitchen to see what he wants. He’s poking around in the refrigerator, and comes up with a bag of carrots. This puzzles me a bit, since he’s usually pretty protein-oriented about food. Then I catch a glimpse of the mischief in his eyes.

“Took you long enough.” He points to the kitchen table. “Go lean over the table and raise your skirt.” He smirks, looking at my khaki capri pants. “Oh, gee, you’re not wearing one. Guess you need to fix that.”

I know this mood. We rarely play dominance games, and when we do it’s usually more fun than serious. I enjoy subbing, but there are times when I wish he was more serious about it. He rarely pushes my boundaries, but the occasional mood strikes him to be more innovative. Willing to play along, I drop into my role and walk to the table, shed my pants, and lean to brace myself on my elbows.

David walks up behind me and slips my underwear down my hips. “Step out, now…be a good girl.” I stay silent and do as he asks. We tried the “Sir” and “Master” modes of address, but it makes both of us feel foolish and I end up giggling, which sort of spoils the mood. Silence works better for us.

Soon he is leisurely rubbing me all over. I hear some crunching, and I assume he is eating the carrots. I relax a bit, though the table is cold. It is topped with stone and is very heavy, as well as much colder than wood. I close my eyes and focus on his hand as he strokes bursa escort along my ass, down my thighs, then up along the inside of one leg. He flicks at my clitoris a bit, then continues on nonchalantly, as if we do this every day.

“You have errands to run this afternoon?” he asks me, conversationally.

“Mmm…yes. I need to run by the library, drop off something at the school, and then run by Costco. I should only be gone a couple of hours,” I reply. “Is there anything you need me to pick up?”

“Perhaps. I’ll update the list while you’re gone, and add a few things.” We use a mobile app that links to a website, so we can both view the same shopping and to-do lists. It’s usually very handy.

His hand moves away, but a second later I feel a cold pressure against my pussy. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but whatever he put inside me, it was small. In a moment I felt the same pressure again, then a 3rd and 4th time. Finally I put two and two together, and got “carrots.” Before I can say a word, the pressure comes again, but at my anus instead. What is he thinking? I’ve taken much larger items than this…how can a small carrot affect me?

A moment later his hand retreats and I feel him tapping my foot. “Put these back on,” he says, handing me my panties, “and change into this bra while you’re getting ready to go.” He shows me something I had forgotten we owned: one of my old bras with small slits cut to let my nipples peek out. We had done a lot of improvising over the years, especially during the early days of our marriage when we were college students on a tight budget. This was our version of a peek-a-boo bra, and it had been quite effective.

As I walk back to get dressed, I notice a few things immediately. 1) Considering the number of carrots inside me, I’m surprisingly comfortable; 2) That last carrot is not painful, but it is very noticeable; and 3) I am suddenly VERY aware of every sensation. Instead of pushing the vegetable fully inside me, bursa escort bayan he placed it where it will hold my asshole open for the afternoon. With no lube, it seems likely that it will stay right there, too.

Remembering his earlier comment my wardrobe, I switch out my capris for a knee-length, skirt. I’m already so wet just from anticipation that I squish a bit from the motion. I change my bra, pull my top back on, and track down my shoes. Heading back to the kitchen, I find myself focusing on every motion and how it affects the items inside me.

“Sit down for a moment, kitten,” David tells me, pointing to a kitchen stool. I comply, though I worry a bit about that rear carrot. It barely budges, but I can feel it more against the hard seat. David pulls my shirt over my head but leaves it around my arms, pinning them over my head. “Keep them there,” he instructs. Next he pulls out a length of yarn. I have craft supplies all over the house, but I hadn’t noticed him ever paying attention to any of it. This was a rather thin cotton yarn, a foot or so long.

Years ago I had found online instructions for making various bondage devices out of rope. In this case, he had clearly adapted one of these to on-hand materials and made a set of nipple loops. The reason for the peek-a-boo bra became clear. Not only was I going to have my nipples rubbing against my top, they were going to be held tightly at the same time. These loops were carefully designed to not tighten when the string was pulled on, so they can be snugged down and then tugged without endangering sensitive bits. David proceeds to loop the yarn to captures each nipple, with not quite enough slack between the two ends. They will be tugged toward each other slightly with every step.

“You have permission to remove those if you feel there is a safety issue,” he tells me, “but if you do, I expect you to replace them after 15 or 20 minutes.” He pulls my shirt back into position, then grins. “Have escort bursa fun with your errands!” As I head out I hear him snicker, and he adds “No touching yourself, and no coming!” He laughs as I groan. “You thought I forgot, hmm? Too bad.”

As I drive out I analyze each sensation. My asshole doesn’t hurt in the least, but I am completely aware of every bump in the road. That carrot feels like it’s glued in place…I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about losing it. My pussy feels odd. Since there are at least 4 small carrots in there instead of 1 large item, I don’t feel particularly full. Instead, I can feel various ends of things (carrots) bumping and jabbing all over. It’s not painful, but ultimately serves the same purpose as the other…to keep my brain focused on my sex.

My nipples feel odd…it’s a strange (or long-forgotten, at least) sensation to feel air on them when I have a bra on; it messes with my head. By itself the effect would have been enough; the rough material of my sweater would certainly ensure that they were constantly stimulated. In addition to that, however, there is the constant tugging as a result of the yarn. I know he means for me to keep everything in place, just as it is. I can feel my pussy leaking already and I wonder if I’ll have a wet spot on the back of my skirt before the errands are done.

__________

Two hours later, I drive into the garage and start to unload. Who would have thought that 5 carrots and 18 inches of yarn could be so stimulating? My panties are soaked through and I squish with each step. I’m sure that Costco clerk was eyeing my shirt – even as thick as the material is, my nipples are so sensitive and hard at this point they would probably be visible through my winter coat.

David, clearly wondering if I’ve obeyed his instructions, comes out and grabs a box. He eyes me and apparently comes to the (correct) conclusion that I am as horny as I have ever been in my life. He grins and asks me, “Did you get the items I added to the list?””

“Yes,” I answer with a resigned sigh, seeing many similar trips in the future. “I got your order from Costco.” He laughs and carries in the 5 pound bag of baby carrots.

THE END

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