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We had been married about a year when we moved to the L A basin and into an older house. Our small neighborhood was strung along the hillside of a ridge. Each house sat on a huge lot, and had a panoramic view until all the trees grew tall. Not quite deep forest living, though almost as private.

The sour economy dictated we each keep a paying job. Mine was five days a week. Delores had a variable on-call schedule. She was called in one Saturday morning, leaving me lonely without focus, and pretty horny.

The lower part of our lot was held by a low block wall, then old Meyer lemon trees. On that hot summer day I sat on that wall, pensive, brooding, pissed. I picked one of those fat ripe sweet juicy lemons, rolled it between my hands cut a hole in one end to suck juice. It was too warm from the sun.

Why I do not know, I cut the hole larger and stuck my dick in. The warm juicy texture gave me a solid erection that pushed against the other end of the lemon. I cut a hole there too and began slow stroking. A bonus sensation came with each thrust as my dick head slipped through the hole on the far end of the lemon. Leaning back with eyes closed I was on a sensual carpet ride.

'What are you doing with that lemon?' jarred Delores' voice from over my shoulder. They didn't need her after all, so sent her back home.

Before I could ad lib 'new skin treatment' or 'it was the lemon's idea'

Delores, in a much softer voice, said she was going to watch. She sat opposite me, giggling at the sight of my dick head poking in and out of a big yellow lemon. Even more aroused by her presence, I closed my eyes again, returning to my ecstasy.

Soon the sensation became overwhelming when my wife began gently thumbing on her end of the lemon.

She later complimented me on the flavor mixture, now calling it Cream of Lemon. But at the time, lacking a banana tree, Delores reached satisfaction manually.

We didn't go meatless and become vegetarians though Delores was gleeful when crook-neck squash came in season!



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