I was cutting vegetables for that evening's stew when an overwhelming urge crept up on me. I was alone at home, the kids were in school and my husband was at work. It was hot outside, but not hot enough to turn on the air conditioning.
"Why not?" I thought.
I peeled off my faded black skinny jeans, the ones with a cute red flower print on the thighs. I always received pointed glances of longing while wearing them, and that was often the prelude to my urges. My sensible undies came with them, and there was just the little bit of my secretions on the warm gusset. I looked at the counter in front of me. There were various washed vegetables in a bowl and on the cutting board, most of them still uncut. I considered the small skinny Italian eggplant. It had a slightly bulbous end to it, just the right length and girth to my horny mind.
Feeling naughty, I stroked myself with the end of the eggplant. The first contact with my lips shocked me at first as it was still cold, but it gradually warmed with a few strokes that were lubricated by my juice. I briefly considered that I was going to feed this to my family, and thought it would be poetic if my husband were to unknowingly eat it. I leaned over the counter, supporting myself with one arm as I teased myself, slipping the vegetable in a little, stroking, and probing.
My breathing quickened as I slid the end of the eggplant inside, filling an ever increasing void, but it wasn't completely satisfying. I slid it deeper, and it felt good, but my mind was playing tricks on me. It kept saying that it wasn't enough. I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew my mind was right.
My eyes set upon a thick carrot resting on the cutting board, already peeled and about to be chopped. Abandoning the eggplant for now, I shaped the carrot end to a rough rounded knob, and carved out a narrower neck below it. I coated the end of it with butter. It was the butter I was going to use to sweat the vegetables. My fingers trembled slightly.
Squatting over the floor, I prepared to impale myself by holding my breath. A whimper escaped from my lips as I felt the carrot intrude on my back hole. I imagined that I could feel every contour, every edge formed by the peeler although I had rounded it fairly smoothly.
"Take it, bitch," I muttered to myself.
It came from inside, a darker place that seldom expressed itself. My husband had never expressed any interest in my anus, and I still found it somewhat forbidden territory.
I squatted lower, planting the end of the carrot on the floor, and forcing it in a little. I groaned in pain. It felt good.
"Oh yeah, take it, you little whore," I said quietly.
Dirty words like that were never uttered in front of my family.
My eyes were level with the counter level and I spied the eggplant. I grabbed at it greedily, like a starving person reaching for sustenance, almost dropping it in my eagerness. I stroked the end over my lips, and they were slick with my need. I stood, knees bent slightly splayed, bracing myself against the edge of the counter so I could fuck myself with the eggplant. The carrot held itself in my ass. I tapped the end of the carrot with the eggplant like a hammer on a nail, and I felt the thumps in my sphincter, jolts of pain and shame.
"You like a little pounding back there don't you," I accused myself.
.... There is more of this story ...