Apple Picking Pussy

by Alpha Harlot on October 16, 2018

Post image for Apple Picking Pussy

Autumn activities are my favorite type. I make plans in July to go pumpkin picking and apple picking before my calendar fills up. Last year, a family trip to the pumpkin patch resulted in me getting fingered in a corn field. This year? We waited until we were indoors to participate in our annual tradition.

Every year, we get together with some of our girlfriends to pick apples and bake. It’s a super fun afternoon, except that by the time that the 6th or 7th pie is in the oven, everyone else is drunk off their faces and I’m knee deep in apple slices. I prefer to focus on all the baking that has to be done, rather than get twisted. After the work is done? Let’s talk. This year my final tally was 10 pies, 48 muffins, 2 trays of caramel apple bars (homemade caramel sauce too, Peepz. Harlot doesn’t fuck around in the kitchen) and 3 loaves of apple, cinnamon, banana bread. You know who wouldn’t have been able to get all that done if she was downing whiskey? This slut right here.

You don’t want me drunk in the kitchen and handling knives…I’m just saying.

While the other girls were on their 15th cigarette break, my wife came into the kitchen and saw my frustrated face. She came up behind me and started kissing my neck because she knew exactly what I needed to take the sour puss off my face.

“You know what I love?” she asked me while I she was purring into her neck, “I love how wet your panties get when you get angry.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes back a little bit, spreading my legs apart just a bit wider. Our friends were just outside the door of the dining room and could easily see her standing behind me if they turned around. Luckily drunk people smoking get very focused on smoking. They paid no mind to the fact that my wife was rubbing my clit while I was standing in front of the sink washing flour off of my fingers.

It was quick. When we’re able to sneak intimate moments like this, that is what we do. It only takes her a few minutes to make me catch my breath while my knees are buckling. I turned around and kissed her. We kept making out until our friends came through the sliding glass door 10 minutes later.

“I’m done baking,” I told them.

“But what about the waffles?” one woman asked.

“You can make them yourselves. I’m packing up my pies and heading home.”
In a moment that was purely motivated by the classic tale of, “The Little Red Hen,” I packed up all the food that was on my dishes and we headed to the car. I’m not exactly sure what my wife and I are going to do with 48 muffins and a handful of other apple goodies, but we’ll certainly do our best to lick our plates clean.

Image: Felony Foreplay Warm Apple Pie by Brazzers

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