Veggie Stew

"Raaaaaaaaaab!" My wife's shrill voice cut through the damp basement
air. Geez, it's as if she had dropped a brick on her toes while in the
middle of saying my name.

I answered quietly, but it didn't matter what I said because it was a
reply so low she couldn't hear me. I remember when I enjoyed the
soothing sounds of her voice, but today the sultry voice had been
replaced by that of one with the same jarring noise to my senses as
fingernails sliding down a chalkboard.

"Raaaaaab, have you started cleaning out your junk yet? My family will
be hear Wednesday and I want the basement clean."

Let me explain. For the last six weeks my wife has been on my case to
clean out what was once known as a guest bedroom in our basement. At
least it was relatively tidy until several years ago when we needed
more storage space. Since then it has been used as a place to deposit
boxes of documents, light fixtures, long forgotten photo albums and
whatever unnecessary piles of unneeded items. Whatever did not fit in
a closet, under a bed or in the garage made its way to the guestroom.

Amid all the aforementioned items were boxes of my "stuff". Now stuff,
as I know it, means all those things I just can't bear to relocate on
either Monday or Thursday mornings in trash receptacles in front of
the house to be hauled away. No way I could part with my stuff.

Included were old books, read long ago but just waiting to be read
again. Old tax documents which sometime might come in handy if we were
audited...as if our meager salaries would spark an audit. There were
collectibles, like autographed baseballs and a few trading cards, an
old lava lamp, and college memorabilia including a box of vintage
1970s Playboy magazines. There were the obligatory yearbooks, photos,
newspaper clippings and stuff only I could savor but never had the
time to do so.

In recent weeks Ellen had hand walked through many of the boxes,
reducing by a half much of the rubble. And for weeks she had been
asking (e.g., begging) me to spend time rummaging through my "stuff"
and getting rid of anything not required in the national defense. Or
something like that.

I, like any normal U.S. Male, did not relish the thought of parting
with some of these sure to be worth millions at some point in the
future items. So I laid down the law: Do Not Touch My Stuff.

She reluctantly agreed, but still pressed me to get rid of whatever
junk I could so that she could have the room ready to be inhabited by
the relatives.

"Okay honey, I will get to it. Just finishing up a couple things
here," I replied, casually knocking the six ball against the seven and
depositing it into the corner pocket.

An agitated voice replied: "This century, Mr. Benedict".

(I sense hostility in the voice and knew at once there would be a lack
of nookie when I entered the matrimonial bed later tonight. Paybacks
are a bitch, I guess.)

"Absolutely, honey bunch."

I finished off the rack, sat back and took a final swig at my beer and
contemplated the task at hand. To clean, or not to clean, that is the
question.

Reluctantly, knowing there was no way I could win the battle, I
decided to give it a go.

Entering the former and soon to be again bedroom, I immediately
noticed Ellen had indeed gotten rid of many of the boxes. One could
walk around the room, and actually sit on the bed. I did just that,
and began hunting through the closest box.

Records came in to view, the vinyl kind. Grand Funk Railroad and Tony
Orlando, indeed. What had I been thinking? I made a mental note to
haul this box to the record collector's store downtown and see what
they would give me for the lot. Moving it to the side, I went through
a box of tax information, shredding by hand anything dated before 1990
and repacking the rest. On and on I went, a man on a mission, until I
opened a box which hadn't seen the light of day in a decade.

It was stuff from college, a couple yearbooks, a textbook, and a stack
of photos of me in various embarrassing poses. Nothing risqué, just
nutty stuff from the good old days. Then I noticed a familiar looking
portfolio, the kind which is fastened by an elastic band. Opening it,
I knew I should know what it was and where it was from, but I just
couldn't place it. Inside were the handwritten words: Property of
Jenny O'Malley.

My eyes smiled as I remembered the name and the girl who I had spent
the better part of my junior and senior years with at State. We were
an item, and it was thought by all who knew us that matrimony was in
our future. It was, but not with each other. We went separate ways
after graduation, got together for an ill-fated five-month foray at
living together a year later. The relationship ended when she
unexpectedly walked out on me and moved back to Boston, leaving only a
callous note which spoke mostly of my selfishness and need to grow up.
Cruel to be kind and all that crap.

When I later moved from the apartment I must have found this portfolio
and packed it. After all this time I don't even remember seeing it, so
maybe one of my friends helping me move packed it away. Who knows?

In any event I opened it and noticed a few letters, some from me, as
well as some from names that brought back memories. Jenny's friend
Carrie talked about school, someone named Franklin spoke of a science
project, and several test papers displayed As and Bs. There were some
pictures, some of her and me, others of college landmarks. In the back
of the portfolio was a locked booklet. I surmised it was some kind of
recordkeeping book or maybe a diary. No key was in the portfolio, so I
flipped open my pocketknife and jimmied it open.

It was indeed a diary of sorts, listing initials in one column and
numbers in another. Sort of a secret code. But not the kind of code
needing James Bond to break, because midway down the page I saw an
entry which brought a smile to my face: JR, then across 1stO, then a
date, March 9, 1982. It was a day etched in my memory, because it was
the first time Jenny and I had made love, and after she told me it was
the first time a guy had given her an orgasm.

What memories it brought back! Instant hard-on time.

I looked around, as if a Candid Camera had been placed to capture my
priceless expression.

After a deep breath, I looked at the entries. Apparently Jenny had
been with seven men by the time she left me that fateful day. I was
third on the hit parade, and apparently there had been four other from
the time we parted college and had gotten together again for our brief
encounter in Boston.

As I paged through the next part of the diary I saw poems, important
dates and various notations made about happenings, friends and phone
numbers.

I read about some of the highs and lows of her life as memories fired
through my brain. At some point I noticed another small booklet in the
portfolio, and opened it. Pretty mundane stuff, really, as Jenny wrote
about favorite dresses, classes and the like. Then, as I turned a page
toward the end of the booklet, I saw what appeared to be diary
entries. There was no year listed but the month and day were, and my
eyes widened as I began reading.

(JACKIE"S WRITING...ITALICS) "April 5: My mom uses a vibrator! Yes,
diary, she does. My mind wanderded to that revelation today, probably
because I had been thinking of sex all day long and somehow I began
thinking of mom and her vibrator. Heck, for several years I didn't
know what the cylinder massager I accidentally came across in her
bedroom was used for. I was so nieve.

"I stumbled upon it quite innocently. Mom had asked me to go to her
room and find her eyeglasses, and while looking for them in her
bedside cabinet I opened the second drawer and saw IT. It was plastic,
about six inches in length and a couple inches around. It has some
nubs on one side, smooth on the other. I picked it up, put it back,
and went on my merry way looking for the glasses. I had no idea what
it was, nor did I care. When I mentioned it to Mom, she turned red and
snapped at me. "That's a muscle massager, but it's only for adults."
Okay, chill out, I thought, and didn't think of it again until last
week. That's when Jill and I were talking and she mentioned using a
vibrator on herself when Tommy wasn't around.

"My eyes were opened that day! Mom was a vixen!

"Anyway, I was thinking of that vibrator today because I was horny
from last night's petting session with Kelly. It's a little weird
dating a junior when I'm a senior, but we are the same age. And heck,
I have to get ready for those college boys who Mom says will be after
me next year. She says I'm 18 going on 30 sometimes, especially when I
dress the part, yet I am still her little girl.

"Kelly is hot, and I was still hungover with hotness today. It
especially got to me when my mind wandered when I got home and went to
my room. As I was lying on my bed I couldn't help caressing my pussy,
and that's when Mom's vibrator came into my mind. If she could, I
could, and I looked around my room for ideas. My eyes focussed on a
long white candle on my writing desk, and I made a hasty decision.

"I placed it by my side, removed my white cotton panties, lifted my
skirt, and gently rubbed the candle along my wetness. Oooooh it was
hot. After playing with my nubbin for a while, first with my finger
and then with the candle, I inserted the waxy man into my flaming
pussy for relief.

"Ohh, it was good. My pussy was on fire, and once I got the hang of
it, I came like never before!

"I think I have round a new friend.

"April 11: I did it twice since that first time, each time with my
loving candle, each time placing it back in its holder, each time
having a wonderful cum. Whenever I come into the room and spot it, I
smile. But today I two-timed my new lover, I was really bad. Mom was
at the store and I was drawn to her room in search of that magic wand
she hid somewhere in her bedroom. I ultimately found it in her
lingerie drawer, hidden beneath some undies which would make Madonna
blush! Ok, dad-i-o.

"Anyway, I caressed that vibrator for the longest time, stroking it,
stroking myself with it, masturbating with my mom's vibrator on her
own bed, like she undoubtedly did many times before. Like mother, like
daughter, I rubbed and tugged and fucked against the vib. Once I
figured out the on-off switch, I was a demon, as the vibrator came to
life and brought me over the top in seconds flat. YES!!! After my
debauchery, I placed it back beneath the undies, batteries weakened
and a smile upon my face.

"May 18: I'm addicted. I keep thinking of things that resemble, well,
hard cocks. And wonder how they would feel in my decadent pussy. My
closest friend in the world, Tammy, and I were having a heart to heart
the other day when I mentioned I had a friend who used a candle on
herself. She looked me in the eye and said, "You have two friends like
that, because I have done it." I couldn't believe that she had, and
she added something like: "Jenny, I am still a virgin, but I have had
sex with a candle and something even better."

"That's when I learned the secret of having a banana serve as my
knight in shining armor for a night. Today, just minutes ago in fact,
I used a real, tapered, yellow banana on my honey pot, as Tammy calls
her pussy. A firm, long, hard banana. And yes, I am addicted. That
little devil got me off like nothing before. With my eyes closed I
imagined it was Sean Connery pounding his cock into my willing pussy,
his hands on my ass, his face buried between my breasts. Mumbling
sweet nothings in an Irish brogue. "June 5: I was the belle of the
ball last night. Prom night. Graduation this Friday. And I made good
on my promise to myself to lose my "virginity" before graduation. I
made Kelly ravenous by flirting with him all night. When we got to the
hotel (he and four of his friends had rented a room, and they passed
the key between them) I let him go down on me right there on a bed
with my prom dress raised above my waist. I can't decide if fucking is
good or not, because Kelly came so quickly I didn't, well, feel
special. Fireworks did not go off, but the second time he did me was
better, and feeling him explode deep inside me (well, I think I felt
it, the condom sort of dulled the true feeling) gave me a warm feeling
all over. But then there was a knock on the door and we quickly had to
make ourselves presentable as Jill and Bob wanted to use the room.

"Thinking back it was nice, but not spectacular. I felt the power of
sex...Kelly had been begging me...but it wasn't fireworks and
explosions. Maybe he wasn't doing it right, or maybe he isn't
experienced. He said I was his first, so maybe we have to do it more
to get it right, but he didn't feel as good inside as my "friends".
Gee, is it perverted that I have had so many different friends
(hahaha)? I'm a real slut, cause I have slept with a guy, a candle, a
vibrator and a banana all in a couple months.

"June 25: Add a carrot to the list! Yup, just like Bugs Bunny, I love
carrots. I visited the refrigerator innocently enough, looking for
something cool to drink, and low and behold, there they were. A bunch
of virile, hard, succulent carrots. I picked the best of the bunch, an
eight-inch torpedo, and proceeded to walk through the house past my
sister Kate and little brother Buzz. I told them I was going to my
room to study, and wasn't to be disturbed, but I made sure to lock the
door once inside. From there it was just a few minutes to my quickie
with Mr. Carrot.

"I don't know if he liked it, but I sure did. I think my pussy was
soaking wet before my orange lover made its way to my loins. It wasn't
as big as Mr. Banana, but what it lacked in size it more than made up
for in pliability. It had a rough texture, but it felt great against
my clit. I slowly rubbed it there before I needed something to fill my
pussy. In Mr Carrot went, furiously fucking me while my finger danced
against my clitoris. UUUmmm.

"July 4: It was a night of explosions in more than one way. Kelly took
me to the lake, where we watched a fabulous display of fireworks
before parking by the tall pines to make some of our own. The backseat
wasn't all that comfortable, but I felt pretty good sitting on top of
his pulsating cock. He's lasting a lot longer now, at least in my
pussy. I don't dare blow him, cause if I do he comes faster than a
bullet, and that means no cock for my aching pussy. I think I need to
take him through this step by step. Maybe I should bring along a
friend, like, well, my second carnal visitor on this holiday night.

"After Kelly deposited me back home, I sat with mom for a while
talking about life...and boys. She wanted to make sure I was "taking
care of myself", and I assured her I was not a loose girl, was not
stupid, and wasn't going to get into trouble at the ripe old age of
19. After she headed up to bed, I went looking for Mr. Carrot's twin
brother when I was drawn to the crisper and asked Mr. Zucchini for a
date instead.

"Make no mistake about it, Mr. Z is huge! I can't imagine Monica
Lewinsky settled for a cigar when there must have been a zucchini in
the White House kitchen.

"I could barely get my lips around him, but I did manage to suck his
tip for a while fingering myself to a new high. But like any man he
soon wanted more, more, more and I was doing the evil deed once again.
He was insistent on doing it doggie style too, so there I was, on hand
and knees and head down upon my pillow, with my other hand firmly
grasping and thrusting Mr. Zucchini into my wet, hot and slightly
aching pussy. Whoa, boy, do it! Who-Ha, it was great.

"I wonder, am I totally perverted?" (END OF ITALICS)

Needless to say Jenny’s writing gave me a huge hard-on, which I
caressed through my jeans. I would have never guessed she was so,
well, I don't know what she was. I mean, perverted is probably the
word, but she was surely enjoying herself. I had seen some porno where
girls were screwing dildos and veggies, and my wife and I used a
vibrator on each other from time to time, but here was my own former
little Jenny, prim and proper and skirts no higher than two inches
above the knees Jenny, fucking more fruit than Richard Simmons. I
wanted to jerk off, but was wary about the wife upstairs, and besides,
how could I put down this diary of sweet little Jenny taking on a bevy
of lovers?

I was almost to the end of the diary, so I made sure the door was
securely locked and got back to the business of being a sort of
voyeur.

(ITALICS, JENNY SPEAKING AGAIN) "August 18: My second day at college
orientation week. Classes won't begin until after Labor Day, but I get
to stay a week learning the ins and outs of college life. Last night
was a blast. After dinner several of us went over to Gibby's, a local
hangout, and flirted with some guys. It was a lot of fun. We danced a
bit, laughed at each other's jokes, and then went back to the dorm
where we were supposed to settle down. Only Margie had smuggled in a
six-pack and a pint of rum, which we proceeded to down like sailors on
shore leave.

"Somehow we got into a game of truth or dare, and we went through the
obligatory questions. Have I/She ever sucked cock or fucked (yes) or
been ass-fucked (no). I thought I had her when I asked if, when
masturbating, she ever used any special accessories. She said truth,
and went over to her backpack and pulled out a red, pliable vibrator
that she intimately kissed. She asked me the same question, and when I
hesitated, she said I wasn't playing fair. So I came clean, probably
because of the liquor, and admitted the magic wand and a various
assortment of vegetables had violated me. Surprisingly she wasn't
shocked.

"She revealed that she had long masterbated with an assortment of
Helpers. Like me, she had used a candle, a carrot and a banana, but
she had also used a variety of other toys. Then, much to my surprise,
she finished her beer and set it on the bedside stand. She lifted her
nightie, slid down her panties, and began caressing her pussy as my
eyes widened. I was mesmerized by her actions, her wantonness, her
openness. I saw her sink one, then two fingers into her wet pussy,
stroking furiously. Then she looked me right in the eye, reached over,
and as I watched to make love to the neck of an empty bottle of Corona
right before my eyes.

"I couldn't help myself. I was rocking in my chair to her fucking, and
lust grabbed hold of me. I finished my own beer and after a deep
breath took it and began sliding its slippery head along the wetness
of my cunt.

"I watched her, inserting Mr. Corona into my pussy, as her head sort
of nodded back as she fucked herself silly. In and out the glass
container went. She tried to get all of it inside, but couldn't, and
neither could I, but we both fucked the hard male substitutes as if it
would be out last fuck for a month. Needless to say, the combination
of the fake cock and the moans and groans emitting from deep inside
our stomachs led to orgasms like no other.

"Later, after overcoming our embarrassment, we made a pack to never
breathe a word of our exploits, assured each other that we'd be
friends to the end, forever bonded together by our special "friend'."
(END OF ITALICS)

Needless to say Jenny’s exploits excited me, and I couldn't stop
myself. I double checked the door to ensure it was locked, then pulled
out my cock and started stroking it, thinking of Jenny's exploits. I
re-read a couple of the passages, and had to struggle to keep from
cumming. I used my free hand to turn to the final pages of the diary,
when the date struck me. It was the date she walked out on me. 
(BEGIN ITALICS, JENNY SPEAKING) "May 14, 1988: Hi Special Diary, it
has been ages since I have written you about my exploits. I have
missed them, but I guess I didn't want to write too much about the
m-e-n in my life when you know all my deep dark secrets from behind
closed doors. I think about you often, My Diary, especially when I am
laying over. I'm a Stewardess now...I should say Flight Attendant.

"Today I had to write, because today I finally decided to leave my
good friend Rob. He's just not growing up. And I have to get on with
my life. Well, anyway, you know how I like to relax when making a
tough decision. Well, yes, I did the naughty thing today. Uh huh. I
know, I said I would stop. And hey, I did for the longest of time. But
like a drug addict, there are relapses. Today I had a relapse, big
time. Today I fucked Mr. Pepperoni. Yes, the big guy himself. Serves
Rob right, me fucking a dirty, hard, disgusting pepperoni, because Rob
won't be fucking me any more after today.

"I did it in Rob's easy chair, and oh I was so very hot. I was
careful, mind you, because after sucking on the hard pepperoni boy I
rolled a condom onto his hardness before riding that masterful meaty
cock for what seemed like hours. I came twice on it, that 10-inch
wonder, before throwing the rubber under the bed and taking the meat
back to the kitchen. I hope he tastes me when he eats that pepperoni,
I sure do.

"Tonight, somewhere in a 767 over the midwest I think I will join the
Milehigh Club of of Toyland. I wonder what will be the lucky recipient
of my love nest!" (END OF ITALICS)

I read the last entry, my cock softening then hardening to the words.
I didn't cum, I think I was bummed by her last words to me. Words
probably meant to be read years ago but silent until now. Jeez, she
liked fucking a pepperoni more than me. So much for my male sense of
superiority.

I quickly closed the diary, put it and other incriminating evidence
back into the box, and piled all sorts of stuff on top of it before
taping it shut for a later time.

But I couldn't get it out of my mind. That night, long after Ellen
turned her back to me in bed and mouthed those telling words, "not
tonight", I crept downstairs to watch Letterman. During a commercial,
after the monologue but before the first guest, I went to the fridge
for a beer. Yup, you guessed it, there was my favorite, Corona, and
thoughts of Jenny riveted through my brain. I reached for it, flipped
the top, and took a long swig. Wouldn't you believe it, Ellen had a
whole bunch of carrots, a zucchini and a cucumber in the crisper.
What, no pepperoni?

How in the world did Jenny neglect to bang a cucumber? Sort of studly
looking if you know what I mean. I shut the door, took another swig
and then a gulp as my eyes wandered to a bunch of bananas on the
counter top. Enough already! My dick was hardening at veggies,
thinking of my old girlfriend and her adoration of non-human sex
partners.

I started back toward the family room, but something came over me. It
was like a magnet, drawing me back toward the kitchen. I couldn't help
myself. I walked back to the counter, grabbed a cantaloupe, opened a
small hole in one end and, well, Jenny, this fuck's for you!

(No, it wasn't hot sex, but it didn't take much to have me join the
toy club.)