City Girl, Country Girl
by Kristina Wright

“The Farmers Market is open!” Ellie screeched as she slammed the front door of our apartment. “Did you know this was opening weekend?”

Her words were accompanied by a little happy dance. Wiggling elbows and knees, she cha-cha chicken danced over to me on the couch and handed me the steaming coffee she’d gone to fetch for me from the corner coffee shop.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” I mumbled. “I remember seeing a flyer about it. You didn’t know?”

I yawned before taking a sip of my coffee. Two years of living with Ellie and I still wasn’t used to her early-morning weekend cheerfulness. I chalked it up to growing up on a farm in Oklahoma. Ellie was a country girl through and through and I was a grumpily displaced New Yorker, still not quite used to the slower pace of Chicago, or as Ellie called it, “the big ol’ city”.

Ellie was bouncing from foot to foot like she had already downed a couple of triple-shot espressos. “No, I didn’t know. Of course I didn’t know! If I’d known, we would have been down there when they opened at six!”

“We?” I raised an eyebrow. “I love you, babe, but I would notbe up at six for vegetables I can buy at the store.”

Ellie made a hurry-up rolling motion with her hand. “C’mon, c’mon. Stop complaining and let’s go before all the best stuff is gone.”

I wouldn’t say her enthusiasm was exactly contagious, but it was after nine and I’d had my coffee, so I was feeling indulgent. She waskind of cute, my sweet bouncing Okie girl. “All right, I’m coming.”

Ellie grabbed her “Go Green” tote bags – all four of them – and we headed down the street to the farmers market. Ellie was two steps ahead of me the entire way, falling back to let me catch up before her excitement propelled her forward once again. I may not have had much interest in the farmers market, but I did enjoy watching Ellie’s bottom bounce and sway as she two-stepped up the busy street.

Yellow barricades blocked off the farmers market and streets normally filled with cars and cabs were converted into a pedestrian walkway. Stall after stall lined the street, with vendors hawking everything from fresh cut flowers to homegrown produce to local honey from beneath brightly coloured canopies. Ellie practically squealed in delight as she scooped up a bunch of fresh herbs and held it to her nose.

“Smell this, Anne,” she said, holding a leafy green bundle out for me.

I took a whiff. It did smell good. “What is it?”

“Italian blend,” the large woman behind the makeshift counter told us. “Oregano, basil, Italian parsley and marjoram. Great in a sauce or dried for later.”

“I’ll take two,” Ellie said, fishing some money out of her pocket. “I know what I’m making for dinner.”

My stomach rumbled. The only thing I “made” for dinner was reservations, but Ellie was a terrific cook. Her job in public relations for a nonprofit agency meant I hardly got to see her – and she hardly had time to cook. This farmers market idea was turning out to be a positive thing all away around.

Ellie had skipped ahead and was now buying a bevy of vegetables. I saw mushrooms, zucchini, squash and another bundle of herbs disappear into one of her tote bags. She held up a large red tomato for me to smell.

“These smell like real tomatoes, not those horrible store-bought ones.”

I couldn’t argue with her. The tomato smelledas ripe and juicy as it looked. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but my mouth was already watering for whatever Ellie was making for dinner.

Another hour later and I was carrying a bouquet of sunflowers and a tote bag of fresh whole-wheat pasta and goat’s milk cheese. The farmers market was winding down for the day and people wandered away with their purchases like ants at a banquet. I felt like I had spent a festive holiday in the country rather than a Saturday morning on a Chicago city street. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself bouncing home with Ellie. Or as close to bouncing as I ever came.

Home again with our bounty, Ellie gave me a toe-curling kiss as she closed the door behind us. As always happens when my girl lays one on me, all rational thought flew out of my mind as I focused on her soft mouth against mine. Somewhere in there, the bags we were carrying fell to the ground with a thump-thud-thump as I pressed Ellie against the door. She moaned into my mouth, that breathy little sound that let me know I was getting to her. Getting her wet, getting her as juicy as those ripe tomatoes she’d bought that were now rolling across the floor.

I pulled back, but only slightly, and murmured against her lips, “What was that for?”

She licked my bottom lip. “For going to the market with me.”

I cupped her luscious bottom in my hands and gave it a squeeze. “I see. Well, I did leave the house awfully early on a Saturday morning. All I get is a kiss?”

Nibbling my collarbone, she giggled. “Well, it was a goodkiss.”

“No argument here,” I said. “But, you know, I could have been reading the paper or napping …”

She looked up at me, lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter. “I see. So, you think your reward should be something more … substantial?”

I smacked her ass, hard enough to make her squeak. “Maybe.”

Ellie may be shorter and thinner than me, but she’s quick. She somehow managed to sweep my legs out from under me so that I was on my back on the hardwood floor. She landed on top of me, all angles and planes. I let out something a little louder than a squeak when one of her bony elbows made contact with my ribs. She giggled, shifting on me in a way that was a little less dangerous and a little more delicious.

I looked up into her sea-green eyes; her blonde braids flopping down either side of my face. “You’re a bad girl.”

She winked at me. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Stretching for one of the oversized tomatoes she’d acquired on our shopping trip, she hefted it in her hand before taking a bite. Tomato juice oozed between her fingers, down her wrist and across my T-shirt.

“Hey, Okie, you’re getting me all wet.”

She held the tomato out for me to take a bite. “That’s kinda the point,” she said, all breathy, as if sharing a tomato was the sexiest thing she’d ever done. “Take a bite.”

I’m not a big fan of raw vegetables, but I did as she said. The tomato squished across my tongue, the sweet-acidic taste trickling down my throat. It tasted better than any store-bought tomato I’d ever had. I licked my lips and smiled.

“Not bad.”

Ellie sat up and fished through one of the tote bags. “Wait until you try this honey. It’s incredible.”

She extracted the wooden dipper and trickled the honey across my closed lips. I opened my mouth to protest and got a taste of what I imagined liquid sunshine might taste like. She giggled at my expression.

“Told you.”

I pulled her down on top of me, kissing her with my honeyed lips. “Yeah, you did. What else you got in that bag?”

She had a tough time responding because my hands were under her T-shirt, pulling it over her head with one hand while I pinched her nipples lightly with the other. “Good stuff,” she gasped. “All kinds of good stuff.”

I squirmed under her and took a plump nipple in my mouth. I moaned against her sun-warmed skin, sucking until she whimpered low in her throat. Then I rolled her over on the floor, one of the “Go Green” totes crinkling underneath her. I made quick work of her shorts and panties and sat back to admire my work. Spread out amidst the produce and flowers, she looked like the dessert at the end of a decadent meal.

I extracted a dark green zucchini from her bag of goodies. With a wicked grin, I ran it down between her breasts and across her stomach. She gasped as I stroked her between the thighs with the sizeable veggie.

“You wouldn’t,” she taunted.

“Wouldn’t I?”

I didn’t give her time to respond. I nudged the rounded end of the zucchini between the glistening lips of her pussy, watching the way it opened her. She arched her back and the end of the vegetable slipped inside her wetness. I pumped it slowly, fingering her clit in lazy circles, enjoying the naughty image of an innocent farm girl being debauched by produce.

Eyes closed, back arched, Ellie wasn’t ready for what I did next. Grabbing up a bundle of her Italian herbs, I quickly withdrew the zucchini and slapped the green bunch across her bare pussy. It wasn’t a hard slap, but the sensation was enough to make her yelp and then laugh.

“That stings and tickles,” she said.

I took that as a good sign and did it again. Liking the way she yelped and squirmed, but didn’t close her legs, I did it again. The bruised herbs released their fragrance and blended with the delicious scent of her pussy. I chuckled. “It smells like an Italian whorehouse in here.”

In a throaty voice I barely recognised, Ellie said, “Well, fuck me then. I want you to get your money’s worth.”

I shucked my clothes and covered Ellie’s naked body with my own. “Hey, little country girl, what’s that?” I asked, as I reached between us to thumb her swollen clit. “You’re awfully excited.”

“Farmers markets get me hot. Didn’t you know that?” She bucked against me. “Fuck me.”

I shimmied down her body and took up the zucchini once more. She spread her legs eagerly, staring into my eyes as the zucchini entered her and spread her open. I pumped it inside her, getting turned on by the wet sounds her pussy made as I withdrew it. Her juices glistened halfway up the length of the long vegetable, leaving streaks of opalescence along the dark green skin. It was naughty and erotic as hell to watch my Okie girl writhe against the zucchini.

“Yes, oh yes,” she gasped, gripping my hair as I fucked her.

She threw back her head, her body straining toward orgasm. Her hands tightened in my hair, pulling me toward her crotch. I took it as an invitation and leaned over her, sucking her clit between my lips. I gave her short, quick thrusts with the zucchini as I sucked her rigid clit, tonguing it in between. That was enough to send her over the edge. Clinging to my hair and wrapping her lean thighs around my head, she came, smelling of herbs and vegetables, fresh air and arousal.

I slowly withdrew the zucchini from her clinging pussy as I kept lapping at her clit. She whimpered and moaned, torn between pulling me closer because it felt so good and pushing me away because the sensation was too intense. It was a familiar battle I’d seen play out before and I enjoyed every moment of it, drawing as much pleasure from licking her as she was receiving. Finally, with a deep moan, she pushed me away. Doubled up and gasping as if she’d just run a marathon, she stroked my head like I was an obedient puppy who had just brought her the newspaper.

“Oh, oh, my,” she murmured, trying to catch her breath. “That was delicious.”

I licked my lips, tasting her and still caught in the web of my own arousal. “Yes, it was.”

She looked around us at the mess we’d made; the vegetables scattered across the room, the honey dripping onto the wood floor, the crushed herbs and mushrooms. Then she laughed. “So much for dinner.”

I reached for her, pulling her into my arms and directing her hand between my thighs. “I’m only hungry for one thing right now.”

As she slid two fingers inside me, she sighed. “Well, the farmers market is open tomorrow, too, if you want to go.”

At that moment, straining against her sweat-slick body as she touched just the way I liked, I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather do on a Sunday morning.