Unethical

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Maxim

M y boots squeak on linoleum floors within the grocery store. I’m not lifting my feet enough. I haven’t had the opportunity to see the doctor in one of my private “sessions” today, so maybe I’m feeling a little fucking lost without her.

As if the devil smiles up at me, I turn the corner at the end of the bread aisle and see her. My shoes squeal more from the abrupt stop, and I leap backward to keep her from spotting me. Peering past the corner, I watch her lift and fondle various cantaloupes. Her dainty fingers squeeze and palpate the textured rind, and my cock hardens at the sight of each movement. I wish she would touch me with half the focus.

I wish she’d touch me at all.

My breathing quickens. I can almost smell her from here—the mild perfume barely overpowering the fruity body wash she would have bathed in.

Sarah puts the large cantaloupe aside, grabs the one beneath it, puts it into the cart, and hurries off. She seems to be in a perpetual rush, as if she doesn’t have time to do anything other than work.

I consider following her, but I can’t stop thinking about her hands on that cantaloupe. She touched it with such focus before she discarded it. My predetermined steps lead me toward the island of fruit before I even realize my compulsion. An older woman waddles over to the same spot, and her hand moves toward the cantaloupe the doc handled.

“If you touch that melon, I will follow you home and kill you,” I say.

She clutches her chest, and I take the opportunity to grab my fruit. She’s too shocked to speak as I put it under my arm and head toward the checkout.

I rush through a purchase that’s become a hyper-focus in my mind. I can’t stop thinking about the way Sarah’s delicate fingers moved over the little pits in the outer skin. I keep my hand on my little prize as I hurry to my car and drive to the halfway house.

No one questions me as I carry it beneath my arm and head inside. Just a friendly nod from a neighbor as I walk by. I probably look like I’m on a health kick, finally getting my life on track. Or they think I’m half nutty with a fruit friend. Either way, I don’t give a fuck. Caring about the thoughts of others hasn’t stopped me before, and it won’t stop me now.

I bring the cantaloupe to my bed, take my knife from beneath the mattress, and stab the blade through the thick rind. I dig and spin and cut until I’ve crafted a perfect hole. My dick twitches as my fingers graze the same ridges that felt the doctor’s grazing touch. I reach down, unzip my pants, and free myself.

With a bite of my lip, I lean back and turn the fruit over, lowering the hole onto my cock. The orange flesh strains around my girth. I moan and touch the melon’s rough exterior as if I’m feeling her as I fuck myself with her body.

“Fuck, doc,” I groan as the meat of the fruit squelches and moves away from the intrusion.

I fuck myself harder and faster, and juice drips onto the front of my pants. I catch some in my hand and bring it to my mouth. My fingers slip past my lips as I imagine the sweetness is hers.

Using my other hand, I continue to fuck myself with the fruit. It takes my whole palm to guide it. My muscles flex and tighten as I feel like I’m about to push through the rind on the other side. This is how hard I’d fuck her if I had her in front of me. How I’d tear her in two if I had the opportunity.

No, not if.

When.

There’s only so much more control I have left when even the sight of her fingers on a hunk of fruit makes me need to fuck it.

I grip the cantaloupe with both hands and slow my thrusts. My body heat has warmed the soft flesh inside. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine it’s something human. I can pretend it’s her pretty little pussy as I come inside it.

And just like that, the thought of filling her sends a bolt of pleasure riding up my spine. A thick groan leaves my lips as I unload, spreading creamy white within the orange flesh.

I pull my cock from the fruit, and my skin gleams with the warm wetness. I lift the cantaloupe, turn it upside down, and hold it over my waiting mouth. Beads of come drip onto my tongue, with a soft, sweet, fruity flavor following it.

“Soon, doc. Soon you’ll be the one filled, and not this fucking fruit.”

This isn’t an empty threat. It’s a promise, and I plan to keep it.