Every winter, I take a cross-country road trip from my home in California to the southeastern part of the country. Some of the hottest, muggiest, nastiest places to be in the dead of summer become absolutely gorgeous places to be in the dead of winter.
It was day six of my trip, and I found myself in Savannah, Georgia. 2,700 miles from home and months removed from the peak of peach season, I was awestruck by how fresh everything seemed. The atmosphere was a nose-tickling combination of light fog and fine mist, but it was 60 refreshing degrees outside and it was only 8:03am.
After a quick stop for gas, I drove just outside of the city and started a leisurely cruise up some of the more country backroads I could find.
About 30 miles outside of the city, I passed by a small sign (if you want to call it that). One side of a haphazardly-torn cardboard box was adorned atop an old broom handle, the entire fixture shoved into the ground on a pronounced slant. "Peaches! 3 miles!" the sign read, hand-written with a big, fat, black marker.
I laughed to myself. "Gotta give 'em credit for trying," I thought. I figured I'd keep going; after all, these tiny places are what make the trips memorable.
Three miles later, just as advertised, I came across a tiny little all-white building. There wasn't even a name on the place -- instead, only a cardboard sign on a stick like the one I'd passed earlier. This sign simply said, "Peaches".
There was a single car parked in the small gravel lot, so I assumed they were open. I pulled into the lot and went inside.
At first glance, the store looked like your typical mom and pop place. The shelves were meticulously lined with various jams and jellies, most of which looked homemade. I saw a shelf with boxes of cereal; a few small coolers with milk, eggs, juices; and several tall-standing wicker baskets with surprisingly fresh-looking produce.
To my left was a small area with a wooden table and three chairs. An old man sat hunched over a newspaper, pencil in hand, and appeared to be doing a half-finished crossword puzzle.
The store's front door slowly swung closed behind me, creaking loudly as it moved, and a small bell attached to the door jingled when the door slammed shut.
The old man at the table didn't move. I cocked my head a bit and saw that he was sound asleep.
"Hello?" I asked, loud enough to be heard, but not so loud as to wake the old man. "Helooo?"
"Sorry!" I heard from the back of store. A thin, young girl -- maybe 20 or 21 -- came running to the front. "Sorry, mister, I didn't hear ya come in! Hi there! I'm Morgan!" Her voice had a youthful cheeriness to it.
She stood probably 5'5" or 5'6", maybe 110 lbs. Creamy white skin, long blonde hair. "Hi, Morgan, I'm Tom. You got peaches?" I asked cynically.
"Sure do!" she chirped back with a wide smile.
"I'll take half a dozen for the road."
"Where ya from?" she asked, as she carefully hand selected six peaches from a basket and placed them into a large brown paper bag.
"California."
"Cool," she replied. She put the sixth peach into the bag and folded the top over several times, placing the bag onto the counter next to the register.
She looked back at me and smiled but said nothing. Morgan wasn't much into small talk, I guess.
"What about jams? Homemade jams. You guys got any good homemade jams?"
"Sure do!" Morgan made her way over to a shelf at the right of the store, and I followed behind her. "We got all kinds'a jams. Strawberry's my favorite, though!" she added.
I browsed the shelf for a second, and then glanced down a bit. From the angle I was at, I got a great look at Morgan's firm, young tits. She was dressed in jeans and a casual blouse that perfectly accentuated her tight, young figure.
I hadn't noticed it earlier, but her scent was amazing. She smelled like sweet, fresh fruit and that "it just rained" smell. A hard scent to describe, but it was incredibly erotic.
I leaned forward a bit. "You smell nice!" I said.
"Thanks, mister!" she giggled.
I put both of my hands onto her inner thighs and began licking down the left side of her neck gently as my hands found their way to her crotch.
"Mister!?" she said nervously.
"When's the last time you got to feel really good, being all the way out here in bumfuck?" I asked her, my hands still in her lap.
She didn't reply.
I pressed my hands more firmly into her crotch, and she moaned and widened her stance a bit. I ran my right hand from her crotch up to her tits, my left hand stroking her pussy through her jeans as I rubbed her tits with my right.
I lifted her blouse over her head, revealing her perky, young tits. I then unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down to her knees, and she quickly stepped out of them.
Her pussy was furry -- but not overly so -- and I was completely turned on by the sight of it; my cock was already rock hard.
I knelt down and told Morgan to get onto all fours, which she did without hesitation. I pressed my tongue against her young, tight little asshole, and she quivered, cum already visibly streaming from her pussy.
I took some of her cum onto my finger, and proceeded to smear her cum onto her asshole. I unbuttoned my fly, and took out my thick, hard cock. Morgan turned to the side and gave my cock a look, moaned a bit, and turned her head back down.
I took the head of my cock, and pressed it against Morgan's asshole, to which she responded by nervously tightening her sphincter. I reached forward and pinched her nipples between my fingers, the head of my cock still pressed to her asshole. When I felt her relax a bit, I pressed the head of my cock into Morgan's ass, and she let out a loud, low moan. I looked down, and her pussy was absolutely dripping. The sight had my heart pounding.
I continued to press the entire length of my cock deep into Morgan's ass until I was fully engulfed by her tight, hot hole. When I was finally all the way in, I felt my balls slap against her pussy, and I could feel her cum dripping from my balls.
At this point, I began thrusting my cock hard and fast into Morgan's ass. With every thrust, a wet "thwap" could be heard as my balls slapped against her sopping wet pussy.
The feeling of her cum soaking my balls quickly became overwhelming. I grabbed onto Morgan's hips and groaned deeply as I pumped stream after stream of my thick, hot cum deep into her ass.
Morgan must have enjoyed the sensation of my cum covering the walls of her ass, because as I came, her pussy continued to ooze a constant flow of her own cum.
I pulled my cock from Morgan's tight ass and saw that her pussy was absolutely covered with her thick, sweet white cum.
I lapped my tongue all over her pussy, greedily sucking up all of her cum into my mouth. As I ate her cum, some of my own cum began to seep from her asshole and down her pussy, and I was still so turned on at this point, I eagerly licked my own cum from her pussy, as well. The combination of our juices was the sweetest, most erotic thing I've ever tasted.
After thoroughly cleaning Morgan's pussy of all our juices, I stood up, put my cock away, and zipped up. Morgan stood up, still breathing heavily, and dressed herself.
We both walked to the front of the store. She rang me up, and I gave her the $12.88 I owed for six peaches and two jars of strawberry jam. "Thank you, mister!" she replied with a smile.
I looked to my left and noticed that the old man at the wooden table was gone. I took a glance at the newspaper on the table and noticed that the crossword puzzle had been finished.
I smiled, took my bag, and left.
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pure_stamina
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