August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over

Black Plums


[This is a work of erotic fiction and is meant for mature readers only.]

Three black plums on the cutting board on the kitchen counter. They sat upright, their wells at the top where the stems had been pulled out. Lined up like this, they seemed ready for their job. As if they knew what they were planned for.

Greg sliced each plum into thirds and removed the pit from the middle sections. As he sliced, the sections fell to the side, wobbling in a little tilting dance as each found balance on its round bottom.

The tops of each plum section were gorgeous. The plum’s flesh was shiny with juice. So shiny as to be a small, round pool of plum juice. The outside circle on each section was the black peel. That color changed to dark purple, which lightened as the eye moved inward, to the center. Greg was very pleased how beautiful and shiny-wet the plums were. A perfect choice.

He picked up one of the end sections, the rounded bottom smooth on his fingertips. He turned from the counter and walked to the middle of the kitchen.

Ellen lay on the kitchen floor. Naked. A small pillow under her head for comfort. Greg admired this view of her. Her face was calm as she looked up at him. The beautiful way her breasts softy lay. Her belly, rising and falling. The small patch of light brown pubic hair above her waxed-smooth pussy. The bikini-shaped areas were pale against the tanned skin around them. Pale triangles on her breasts from the bikini top, and a broader triangle on her loins. Then her legs, those lovely and strong legs, that looked so good when she wore bikinis—and when she wore anything short. And when she wore nothing at all.

Ellen’s eyes rose from his hard cock to see the section of plum on his hand. She looked curious, wondering what he was going to do with it.

Greg didn’t answer her curiosity while he admired his wife for a few more moments. The moment was too delicious not to take the time to enjoy it.

Then it was time to move onward. “This,” he said as he tilted the slice of plum and presented its flesh to her, “is just like you. Purple. Wet. Dripping with juice.”

As if on cue, a small drop of juice fell onto her belly. She sucked in breath and flinched, delighted at the cool wetness of the juice on her skin.

“It’s beautiful,” Ellen said.

“Also just like you.”

She beamed, warmed by his compliments. Then she flinched again as he suddenly moved his arm a little and squeezed the plum slice, sending a burst of juice raining down on her breasts. A lot more cool wetness than that one drop of before. With her chin on her chest, she looked down at her breasts. The shiny spots of plum juice caused a thrilling jolt up her body. She thought of rubbing the juice into her skin, of feeling the slippery sensation of the juice, but then figured that may be going out of what Greg had planned. So she kept her hands to her sides.

Greg left and came back with another slice of the dark fruit. Again, he squeezed it, and the juice showered down on her stomach. She was better prepared for it this time, and she stared at the drops falling and hitting her skin. A fascinating journey down. From the look on Greg’s face, he was also enjoying it immensely.

He went to retrieve more fruit, and returned with a plum section in each hand. Instead of standing at her side, he stepped over her, his feet on either side of her knees. He held out his hands, as if they were gripping a steering wheel, each hand on the horizontal middle of the wheel, at the positions of 9 o’clock and 3 o’clock. The squeezed juice fell onto her thighs. More cool wetness delighted her as it touched her flesh.

One more slice of plum was squished over her, and the juice of it fell onto her pubic hair. Ellen could feel the cool juice slide down, in the sensitive curve where her thigh connected to her body, and then it slid onto the lips of her pussy. A small gasp came from her, at the soothing, sensual feeling.

Greg gazed down, admiring his work. Her body had glistened before with suntan oil when she had sunbathed on the beach and in their backyard. It had glistened with massage oil. Never had it glistened with plum juice. It was sumptuous.

And it begged to be cleaned up. He tossed the squashed plum slice in his hand to the kitchen sink. Then he lowered to the floor, getting on his hands and knees. Lowered his head to his wife and licked her thigh.

Again, Ellen gasped. The wet joy of Greg’s tongue with the wet joy of the fruit juice. On all fours, he looked like a cat bent at a water bowl. Also like a cat, he cleaned her with his tongue. He took his time lapping up the juice on her thighs. WIth each trip of his tongue, her skin glowed. She was a rapt audience as he continued, and her breath slowed as she grew accustomed to his tongue’s work.

But her breath picked up again after he finished with her thighs and moved to her belly. She squirmed as his tongue corkscrewed in her belly button, ensuring it was as clean as he could make it. Her stomach and breasts rose and fell quicker.

Then he was at her breasts. He spent more time cleaning them than her stomach and thighs, as he had done in the times they’d showered together. No surprise at all there. And she had no complaints about that, being enraptured by his tongue swirling in little circles on her hardened nipples.

There was also the temptation of his cock. He was still crouching on all fours, and his erection pointed down, quivering as he moved and worked on cleaning her. It was tantalizingly close. So close, it would’ve been easy for her to reach up and touch it. Grab it. Feel its heat and hardness. Stroke it. She moaned from her want to feel that cock in her hand. But she ordered her hand to be still, remain at her side. This was Greg’s turn now, let him call the shots. But surely he wouldn’t mind a little stroking. No, she told herself, not yet. So she returned to simply enjoying him sucking on her nipples, even though both of her nipples had already been fully cleaned by his eager mouth.

Then he released them. He crawled down, away from her breasts. She imagined her body being shiny from his tongue bath, and no longer shiny from the plum juice.

But there was one last spot he had not cleaned yet. He slid her legs apart to get better access, and then he bent low and set upon cleaning the plum juice on her pussy. She knew that her own juices mingled with the fruit’s juice down there. His cleaning had made her relaxed and ecstatic at the same time, and her pussy had to be flushed with wet excitement.

Ellen felt more flushed now, the warm tingling building in intensity. Greg took his time, not pouncing on her engorged clitoris and bringing her to a swift orgasm like he knew he could. No, this was a continuation of slowness. A slow cleaning of her tender, sensitive flesh. She squirmed as he licked, her ass cheeks sliding on the cool hardwood floor. Her hands loved her breasts, fingers playing with her nipples, and she remembered his mouth on them. His mouth had felt amazing on her nipples. His mouth had felt amazing everywhere. Thighs, breasts, belly. Swirling in her belly button. Now swirling on her clitoris. The motions of his tongue on her pussy reminded her of the motions he had done before, on her other parts. The pleasure of now inspired flashbacks of the recent pleasure of his tongue cleaning all that plum juice. She moaned and squirmed from all this glorious pleasure.

When her climax arrived, she arched her back, gripped her tits harder, fingers pinching and rolling her hard nipples. She cried out loudly. A burst of sound to match the tender ferocity of his tongue as he had finally zeroed in on her quivering clit and had flicked it in a crazed blur that was so deliciously different than his tongue’s slow sliding when cleaning her skin. Her voice burst out, a thing overjoyed to be free after mounting and rising for a long while and aching to crash out of her. Her crying out seemed to last a long time, the waves of bliss crashing again and again.

Finally, the waves relented. Greg kept his tongue flat on her moist flesh as she trembled for a little while longer. Then he stood. He stared down at her with intense eyes. A slight smile in a corner of his lips. The proud husband. He watched her for seconds that seemed much longer to her. He watched her, admiring his handiwork. She let her hands slip from clutching her breasts to lay again at her sides.

Greg turned, headed back the kitchen counter. Back to the cutting board. Back to the slices of black plums that quivered in excitement over being chosen next, and over the possible missions they were about to fulfill.

As he returned to her, she watched his erection lightly bounce and sway. He stepped over her. His feet were now on either side of her. He stood over her breasts, so that she looked straight up at his cock.

She loved his thigh muscles. Loved how iron-hard they were. Loved this view of his rod of iron between his legs. It appeared bigger from this vantage point. Way up there, it appeared enormous, a giant. Gorgeous in its power and size.

Greg held the piece of plum above his cock and was obviously about to squeeze it, to send its juices raining down upon that big erection, and then the drops would fall onto her.

“Not yet,” Ellen said. “First, your juice. Your juice hanging down from that beautiful cock. Give it to me.” She opened her mouth wide, an oval of red lipstick broken by her tongue sticking out.

He was clearly pleased by this. He might not have even noticed his own juice that hung from the tip of his cock by a thread as delicate as a thread in a spider’s web. He lightly gripped his shaft and gave it a single shake. Just a quick flick of his wrist. The dangling pre-come dropped down and landed on her cheek, missing the goal of her open mouth. But neither of them minded the miss. A shiny line stretched on her cheek. Ellen’s fingertip slid from next to her ear, across her cheek, and collected his juice, then plunged into her mouth. Her puckered lips sucked on her finger as it slowly slid out of her mouth.

“Yummy,” she said. “Like your come, but more subtle.”

His cock twitched in excited response at this. His hand holding the plum slice returned to above his cock. This time, she did not stop him. This time, he squeezed the plum, sending its juice showering down onto his shaft, splashing on it, then dripping down upon her. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth and enjoyed the feeling of the cool drips hitting her face. Tiny plops on her nose, forehead, cheeks, chin, neck. She flinched a little. A low, soft groan came from her, evidence of how much she delighted in this.

A come-shot from a plum, she thought, remembering the two times that Greg had given her a come-shot on her face. She had not enjoyed those as much, didn’t like the stickiness of the plops of come that felt like they were all over her face, even though they weren’t all over. He certainly wasn’t one of those guys in the porn movies they had watched together. Still, through the discomfort, she had been fascinated by his reaction. He looked shocked, like he was trying to figure out the sight of his wife with come on her face. That shock had shifted into a clear thrill and pride and a stronger look, as if the act had made him more of an alpha male, a manlier man.

In contrast, this plum dripping was more delicate. More enjoyable. When she opened her eyes, she saw his face way up there, beyond his cock. He looked back down at her, clearly pleased.

Ellen opened her eyes and stared at the head of his quivering cock as a couple more drips fell upon her. She, in turn, was very, very pleased.

“Feed me,” she said in a thick voice.

He didn’t rush to follow her order. He stayed there for a few more seconds, and she guessed he was enjoying staring down at her face below his erection. Just as she was enjoying the view. It was something different than the usual, and much more dramatic.

Then Greg stepped over her, his foot rising above her face, his balls flashing her a view of them for just a moment. He was again at her side, as he had been while squeezing plum slices on her breasts and stomach. He lowered to his knees, then lowered more to lay on his side. Sliding on the floor so that his cock was positioned at the side of her face, pointing at her cheek.

Ellen turned so that she faced him, side by side, with their faces at each other’s loins. She swallowed the top half of his cock, and the sweetness of the plum’s juice on his shaft filled her mouth. It was a luscious taste, one made sweeter after she had seen Greg lick up all that juice on her body. After the initial burst of plum taste, it dissipated, and his taste took over. The savoriness of his cock that she had enjoyed many, many times. Tasting him turned her on, and this was deeply so now, after yearning to feel him, stroke him, do something with that hard excitement between his legs. Now it was a thrill in her mouth.

He lifted her top leg, and his tongue was on her. Again. She inhaled a long breath through her nose as his tongue touched her vagina again. She sped up sucking his cock. But, after a couple of seconds, she caught herself. Told herself to slow down. Make the moment last longer. He had indulged her in a glowingly long loving with his mouth, and she wanted to give that back to him.

But it was going to be very difficult to focus with his gorgeous tongue down there. She firmed her resolve, released his cock from her mouth, and set upon licking it. She grinned at it, knowing that this was going to be a long, lovely ride of showing this cock how much she adored it. She decided she was going to swallow every drop of bliss that it was going to give her. She didn’t swallow his juice every time. But in this case, it felt right. Felt like it fit into all of the sweet juicing and licking that Greg had given to her. Her smiling lips opened wide and took him in for a beautiful, slow loving.



Author: augustmacgregor

I'm a writer of erotica and romantic fiction.

13 thoughts on “Black Plums

  1. Deliciously erotic. I have never been a fan of plums … until now.


  2. ….blink….blink. …blink….

    I’m beginning to think fresh fruit is not safe in your home. And time of zero importance. 🙂


  3. You wrote me into a near… well, never mind that. Nicely done!


  4. You name the place, I’ll bring the plums!!!


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