Biggest Stems Only

Freshie had been out since the asscrack of dawn, working her way through every pumpkin patch and porch display in the neighborhood, hunting specifically for the thickest, longest stems she could find. By the time she hit this one, her little basket was already half full and her tiny denim shorts were riding so far up her ass she was basically flashing anyone who looked. She’d bent over for the third time in ten minutes, tits hanging heavy in that barely-tied plaid top, one hand wrapped around a fat green stem while she tested the weight of it.

“Fuck… this one’s perfect,” she muttered under her breath, squeezing the stem and imagining how it’d feel once she got it home. The plan was simple and nasty. She’d been filing and sanding the fattest stems down for the last couple weeks, shaping them into realistic cock molds she could cast in silicone. Thick, veiny, the kind that stretched her out just right. She sold a few under the table to other girls who wanted something that actually felt like the real thing, but most of them she kept for herself. This one looked almost as girthy as the one that made her gush all over her sheets last night. She shifted her weight, boots scraping the pavement, and felt her shorts dig in deeper.

A low voice came from behind her. “You need a hand with that?”

Freshie didn’t even stand up all the way. She just looked back over her shoulder, still bent at the waist, ass out. It was the older guy from two houses down, the one who always “just happened” to be outside when she walked by. His eyes were locked on the way her shorts had disappeared between her cheeks.

“Depends,” she said, voice low and a little breathless. “You got something thicker than this?” She gave the stem another slow squeeze, thumb rubbing over the rough green skin. “I’ve been looking for something that’ll actually fill me up. These are close, but… not quite.”

He took a step closer. She stayed bent over, pretending to inspect the pumpkin while she pushed her ass back just enough that he could see the little ruffle of her shorts and the soft underside of her tits swinging. The stem in her hand felt good. Solid. She was already thinking about getting home, stripping out of these shorts, and testing the ones she’d collected earlier against her own fingers first. Then the molds. Then maybe texting Aelira a picture of the thickest one with the caption “which one you want me to fuck myself on first?”

She finally straightened up, basket heavy on her hip, and gave him a slow once-over. “I’ve got three more houses. You can follow if you want. But only if you’re gonna help me pick the biggest ones… and then watch me figure out which stem actually feels the best.”

She turned and started walking, boots clicking, shorts still wedged up, already wet and already planning how long she’d stay bent over once she got the whole collection home.