Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Erotic Grape Fan Fiction (Tuesday, September 16, 2008)

Vedra Rubbinstuf stretched out - entirely nude - on her pink davenport.

"Ho hum," she said. "Another dull day! Whatever shall I do with the time... and me so horny, as well..." She did not realize that she had inadvertently made a popular reference to the film Full Metal Jacket. She was merely unable to refrain from observing that she was, indeed, very horny that afternoon.

She looked around the room. Her television sat on its orange crate in the corner. "Oh, piss on television! Who could want to watch that stuff on such a boring day!" Several books and magazines were stacked by the easy chair. "Pfff!" she said. "Books! As though I wanted a book! As though I were an asshole!" She reached for a grape from the plate on the table, and as she placed it whole in her mouth, a thought struck her.

The smooth, cool, and slightly wet grape rolled around on her tongue, and she found that her dire horniness only grew worse. She pressed it back out through her lips - her full, luscious lips - and held it between her thumb and her finger, studying it. Below, her horniness raged like a hot, wet thunderstorm.

As a child, she had made a game of placing as many as grapes in her mouth at once as she could. (Twenty-seven, in fact, on an occasion when she was in practice and had found some generally small grapes.) An overwhelming compulsion struck her to repeat this childhood diversion, but without using her mouth at all.

"I'm going to stick all these grapes into my pussy," she said.

As the first grape passed up into her eager and attractive pussy, she gasped with thrill. This was what she had been waiting for, not just on this dull afternoon, but her entire life. She could hardly imagine that her pussy or grapes existed for any reason other than this union. Why were grapes edible at all? It was an unnecessary distraction, she realized. Vedra inserted three more grapes in sequence.

At this point, she was trembling with pleasure - sexual pleasure - and could barely hold the plate of grapes steady. As the fifth grape slid home, Vedra realized that her delights had come with a dilemma. Thus far, all the grapes were still whole and intact, which seemed to her to be in the spirit of the game. But it was inevitable that the crowding of the grapes and the contraction of her notoriously powerful vaginal muscles would soon crush most or all of the grapes. She tried to decide whether this outcome bothered her, but found she could concentrate on nothing but the placement of the sixth grape, and the electric shivers of pleasure coursing through her body as the cool, sleek surfaces of the grapes ground over each other within her.

After the eighth and then the ninth grape, Vedra slid from the davenport onto the carpet. She gasped and moaned. Gasped and moaned erotically. The grapes, through some miracle of ideal eroticism, were all still intact. Soon the twelfth grape was pressing against her. Her eyes rolled up. She could see the room around her, but felt as though it were a little unreal, as though she were really somewhere else. She meowed like a cat and didn't even know why. Seventeen grapes.

As she pushed the final grape in with a small popping noise, she found she could no longer lift her arms. All of her limbs were trembling. So many grapes, she thought to herself. Her deep breathing began to catch in hitches. Finally, it had gone as far as it could. She moaned (she was having an orgasm, see?) and felt all of the grapes being suddenly crushed within her.

She lay still on the carpet, her heart hammering in her chest and a pool of grape juice growing around her butt.

"Twenty-eight," she gasped.


Some months later, Vedra sat down to dinner with her friend Evelyn, a lovely and statuesque sapphist dressed in an attractive cream-colored evening dress. "It's so wonderful to see you again, Vedra," said Evelyn, who occasionally said very boring things in the course of making small talk.

"I'm quite glad to see you, Evelyn," said Vedra. "I have something I've been very eager to show you. But first -" Vedra produced an unlabeled bottle - "may I offer you some wine?"

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