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smut theory

persimmon

“Do you want to taste this persimmon?” I asked my spouse.

We were in the kitchen, and I was processing persimmons, a sacred food for me.

“No, I don’t like persimmons,” they said.

“What don’t you like?” I asked.

“I don’t like the taste, and they’re too slimy,” they said.  “It’s just… negative associations.”

anew

“Well what if you tasted them, without the associations?  What if you closed your eyes and let me show them to you anew?” I asked.

“Ok,” they said.

“Put one hand on my breast like this,” I said.

I was almost naked, as I often am almost naked in the kitchen.  I put my spouse’s hand on my breast so they could grab it.

It resembled a daily ritual we have of my spouse holding my breasts as I shave their chin and mustache with our electric razor.  My spouse got annoyed with shaving, so I volunteered to help.  A boring chore turned into a daily erotic treat.

close your eyes

“Now close your eyes, and smell this,” I instructed.

I had the ripest persimmon cut open into fourths.  I sniffed it myself, then held it under my spouse’s nose.  The skin was dark orange.

They sniffed.

“Does it smell good?” I asked.  “Kinda subtle, huh?”

“Smells good,” they said, gently squeezing my breast.

“Oh, you like it!” I said.

“Yeah, I like it,” they said.

Their nose was close to the fruit.  I was afraid their nose would go into the fruit.

“Smell it again,” I said.

They took another whiff, and I did too, trying to comprehend the smell and how closely it matched the taste.

“That was fun, right?” I asked.

taste it

“Yeah,” they said.  “I thought maybe I should hold my dick as I taste it.”

“Ok!  That’s a great idea!” I said.  “You’re ready to taste it?”

“Yeah,” they said.

“Great,” I said.  “Take your dick out.”

My spouse pulled down their chonies and held their boner.  Their other hand squeezed my breast, and I put the ripe fruit under their nose again.

“You wanna taste it?” I asked.

They took a little bite.

“Mmmm,” they said.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“Mmm hmm,” they said.

I took a small bite of the persimmon and kissed them, with my tongue pushing the wet fruit into their mouth.

“Is it yummy?” I asked, pushing my tongue into their mouth again and again as we kissed.

“Yeah,” they said.

wow

Wow, what a lesson.  I’m glad I tried training my spouse to like persimmons.  It worked!  It’s never too late to make a new association.

“Are you glad you like persimmons now?” I asked.

“Yeah!” my spouse said.

“I’m glad you like them now.  They’re my favorite color,” I said, continuing to process fruit to make cookies with later.

We hadn’t kissed quite like that in a long time.  I feel fortunate that my spouse is open to trying things in our middle age, in our kitchen, on a rainy day in December, as I grieve and change.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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