My Chinese Maid (3)

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Cucumbers are for show, bananas are for pleasure.

 

My Chinese maid and I had developed an interesting relationship despite the obvious ethnic and age differences. We were both married and both wanted to stay that way. We both thought fucking was only for married couples and that shared understanding brought with it confidence and trust. We both knew I would be leaving China in a few months so I guess we saw what we were doing as safe fun with no consequences. There seemed few constraints. By precluding actual intercourse, somehow we had condoned all other sexual activities. Nevertheless, her openness about her masturbation techniques, left me quite astonished and tremulous with anticipation. She would be back on Monday and I was determined to have a tempting selection of fruit and vegetables on hand, just in case she was still willing to show her foreigner how.



At the Sunday market I kept thinking the stall keepers knew my intent as I carefully examined their produce and made my selections. A handful of purple eggplant with a touch of pink, which would match beautifully with her labia, was my first purchase. Not the fat globular ones but the slim cylindrical ones appropriate for a tight Chinese vagina. Then baby carrots, tapering gently down from their tassel of green to a soft point, which I imagined may soon be touching her cervix. The cucumbers, were all very long and very rough. I searched for a smooth one, until the lady stall-holder reached under the counter and, with a knowing look, handed me one, double the price but smooth as silk. My maid was right about the price of bananas, which were an imported variety, much bigger than I had sought but strongly curved, firm and unblemished. Satisfied, I headed home with my collection of natural dildos feeling like a thief with the crown jewels.



I left the fruit and vegetables where they could not be missed and left for work early, planning to compensate with a long, long lunch-break. On my return, I found my Chinese maid stir-frying over the gas stove and perspiring in the June heat. She and the food looked quite done so I clicked off the gas, took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom. I returned to put out the food and the sound of running water through the open door was like music to my ears. Never before had she left the door open. I found the softest towel and stood in the bathroom doorway watching as water cascaded over her naked body. She struck a series of cute poses, giggling like a schoolgirl, then cut off the water and stepped towards me. Dodging my kiss, she wrapped the towel like a sarong and, as I had hoped, left her clothes in the bathroom. My purchases were still on the table and as we sat I noticed with a thrill that they were wet. I picked up the well-scrubbed cucumber, held it suggestively at my crutch and told her sternly that it was too big.



'Maybe, maybe not' she pondered, then added sternly: 'But eat first.'



As usual her food was delicious but in truth, my mind was elsewhere, driven by another basic appetite. My eyes roamed from her damp bare shoulders to the bowl of fruit and vegetables and I felt that delicious warm sensation as my penis shed its wrinkles. She rose to clear the table and I joined her in the kitchen putting the leftovers, which would sustain me until she returned on Friday, in the fridge. I looked up to see she had dropped the towel over a chair and picked up the bowl. Giving me a come-I-have-something-to-show-you look, she led the way to the bedroom.



She pulled back the covers and rested back against the bed-head. I undressed and sat at her feet gently massaging them, then her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs. They parted, just enough for one hand to explore the softness where they met. She pressed against my hand and I felt the moistness of her protruding petals. My hands returned to her feet, lifted and spread her legs to form an arrow pointing to their pink hinge. That was such a beautiful sight! I knelt at her feet and said a silent prayer of thanks for sending me this amazing woman.



Pushing the bowl towards me, she asked me to choose. My hand trembled as I passed her a smooth, slim eggplant. Her knees came up, offering the base of her vulva to the shiny vegetable. She stroked it down through her moist petals and it slipped in effortlessly. Fascinated, I watched as she eased it in and out like a color co-ordinated penis. I looked up, like a guilty voyeur, to find I was being watched too. She grinned and handed back the eggplant wet with her juices. The musky smell drew my lips and I licked it appreciatively before returning it to the bowl. Next I offered a carrot, which was instantly buried until only the tuft of feathery leaves was visible. I recalled the old schoolyard proposal: 'Can I plant my carrot in your garden' and grinned. She looked down, giggling at the sight of her green pubic hair, then with sudden wicked inspiration, she tugged out the slippery root and rolled onto her tummy. Playfully, she demanded I give her a tail. Amazed at the audacity of this woman, I reached for the lube, smoothed a little across her anus and gently eased the carrot into her rectum. As her anal sphincter closed over the root, she leapt from the bed to view her tail in the mirror, and playfully suggested she would wear it home to show her husband. We both collapsed on the bed, doubled up in mirth. I tugged on her tail a few times and she liked that but it stayed there and I was suddenly worried. Then she farted and it popped out like a champagne cork. We laughed until our sides ached.



Finally, we got ourselves under control and she reached for the cucumber. It was a magnificent specimen, vivid green with a smooth, slightly waxy skin but definitely too thick to be a pretend penis. She rolled it over her breasts, then held it against her tummy noting with satisfaction that it reached from her vulva to her naval. She gave a big sigh and replaced it in the bowl explaining: 'Cucumbers are for show, bananas are for pleasure.'



She selected a banana, which she said was 'Firm enough to fuck but soft enough to eat.' She peeled it carefully, monkey fashion, leaving just enough to hold. Then lay back and asked me to do it. I took hold of the unpeeled end and pressed the firm fruit into her vagina, using its natural curve to seek her G-spot. Our games had left her vagina very moist and the banana slipped in with ease. Confident I was in about the right place, I rocked the banana rhythmically, keeping time with her practiced fingers as they stroked the left side of her vulva. She started making little mewing noises so I held the rhythm. I was kneeling at her side, using my free hand to brush my penis across the nearest breast. Glistening pre-cum spread over her chestnut areola and erect nipple. I felt her vaginal muscles tighten, hindering movement of the banana, and compelling me to use a twisting action. Together we were playing a wonderful duet on her body, which brought us both step by step towards orgasm. She paused for a moment and looked down, then with her free hand she grasped my penis and insisted I come with her. The invitation was accepted and as that feeling of inevitability washed over me, I watched her rub my penis up and down firmly and knew she wanted to see my semen. As my first contraction flooded warm juice over her hand, her own spasm released the banana, anointed with her juice and I watched a blush spread over her chest and down across her breasts. When my contractions faded, I brought the banana to my lips, smelt her again and between bites murmured: 'You are a beautiful woman and this is a delicious banana.'

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