Getting a better hold, she squeezed her Honeydews over his banana. He saw her lips get closer and closer and longed for her mouth to open. He wanted her to take his Cavendish, he needed her to take it, he couldn’t live without seeing her lips surround and squeeze his offering to her. He sought to see her eager tongue pressed against its firm, curved ridge.

The heat was intense and perspiration drips over his eyes and down his nose. Feeling the sweat falling from his face he blows, spraying his spit into the air and onto her face. Humiliated she pulled her melons back tossing his sagging submission to the side. He put his wilted fruit back in his pants and walked away.

She grabbed her tarp pulled it up and over, and tucked those large delightfully delicious melons back in their place. Sure to show a little at the top; knowing another man would come.

Like each one that came before he would give anything to see them, to touch them – but no man give her enough to take those beautiful babies for his own.