Picnic on the porch

Sun hits the porch just right. She sits there, legs open, skirt pushed aside. The cucumber gleams, wet from her mouth. She lines it up, presses the blunt end to her slit, and works it in slow. Blonde hair falls across her cheek as her hips tilt. Every inch sinks deeper. A small sound leaves her throat, raw and hungry. She pulls it out, pushes it back, finding the angle that makes her shake. Her free hand grabs the railing. Her cunt grips the vegetable, slick now, glistening in the light. She keeps the pace steady, eyes half-closed, lost to the steady thrust and the tight pull of her own body.