Tomatoes
by Tante Amalia
Copyright© 2025 by Tante Amalia
Erotica Sex Story: Couple engages in public sex
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Light Bond .
While I wait for the farmer to take my order, I fondle a tomato, testing it for firmness and ripeness.
“Drop the tomato.”
A shiver runs down my spine when I hear the whisper rumble hot in my ear. My heart jolts then speeds up, my breathing becomes ragged and shallow. I swallow, though my throat is suddenly dry. His solid, warm body is so close behind me; he presses me against the rickety table. Speechless, I replace the tomato in its bin and let my trembling hand drop to my side.
“Not a word.”
Grabbing my wrist, he folds both our arms over my body, keeping my back pressed firmly against his chest. He forces me to take two or three steps back, then he turns and marches us past three stalls into a blind alley.
Oh, shit! Trying to shorten my pace has no effect. His grip on me is firm, his free hand clamped around my mouth.
As soon as we enter the warehouse through a service door, he presses my face against the rough brick wall. With most of his weight keeping me pinned against the wall, I have difficulty taking full breaths, let alone fight him.
“Gimme the bag.”
His hot voice is demanding, leaving no room for argument.
I let the net bag slide down my wrist. He catches it before it drops to the floor. Both my wrists are twisted behind my back and tied together with the bag. I groan and whimper a protest.
“Not a sound!”
I swallow my next groan.
He lifts his weight off me, turns me so I can see the work room. Still holding me firmly by my elbows, he forces me to walk forward to an old chair. Ragged pieces of duct tape have long since given up trying to keep the stuffing inside. Pressing on my shoulders, he bends me over the chair’s back. My face rests on the seat cushion that smells of stale cigarettes, old farts, and greasy food. I try to lift my head and protest. But I have no leverage to rise or move.
He pulls my skirt up, his fingers stroke over and squeeze my bare ass.
“Nice.”
He kicks my legs apart.
I moan when his hand dips lower and fingers me. As he leans into me, I can feel his erection even through the heavy fabric of his jeans. Involuntarily, I wiggle and raise up on my toes.
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