Kitchen kit - part I.

She’s alone in the kitchen, bright light sliding over smooth counters and the green spine of a cucumber still cool from the fridge. The thought hits fast: long, hard, fresh. Exactly what she needs. She lifts it, weighs it in her palm, feels its firmness, then slides her free hand down between her legs. Already wet, already open. She presses the thick end to her slit and pushes. One steady thrust and it sinks in, stretching her, cool at first, then warming as she rocks her hips against the counter edge. Juice runs down her thigh; she fucks herself deeper, fucking harder, chasing the feeling until her knees shake and her breath breaks.