Going Berry Picking

You watch me walk into the kitchen, wearing only a pair of shorts and heading straight for the coffee pot. You are sitting at the kitchen table, eating toast with strawberry jam on it, as our kids are in the living room, eating bowls of cereal and watching some cartoon show.

As you bite into the toast, the store-bought jam tastes too sweet but yet almost bland. You look at the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, and remember making berry jam with your parents. The memory of going behind your house in the summer and picking berries is so fresh and clear in your mind.

I sit down with my mug of coffee. “What’s up? You look like you are thinking about something?”

“We should take the kids berry picking.” You say in a soft, almost wistful tone.

“What’s that?” I ask, not sure I heard you correctly.
You look me directly in the eyes and say more confidently. “We should take the kids berry picking.”

‘Hon, I know you had berry bushes behind your house when you grew up, but unless you magically planted things last night, we don’t have any.” I say in a joking tone.

“No, smart ass.” You say as you pick up your phone and do a quick search. “About an hour’s drive into the country are a number of ‘pick your own’ farms.” You then show me the screen.

I take your phone and scroll down the screen. “Some of them aren’t in season yet.”

“Fine, skip past those and choose the ones that are.” You say in a confident tone.

After I finish scrolling, I hand you back your phone. “So, if we pick them, what do we do then?”

Very confidently you say “Freezer Jam.” You see the confused look on my face. “My parents would make two types of jam when I was growing up: traditional and freezer jam. We could do either, but I think freezer jam would be easier with the kids.”

“Do we have everything we need? Don’t we need to have glass jars and a pot of boiling water?”

You lean back in your chair and smile. “Nope. That’s why the first jam I learned was freezer jam. We just need plastic containers, sugar, and fruit. I think dad would use lemon juice when he didn’t have pectin.”

“What’s pectin?” our daughter asks as she puts her dirty cereal bowl in the sink.

“Rinse it first.” You remind her. “It’s a sour flavor added to jams and jellies.”

“Oh.” She responds as she rinses her bowl and puts it in the dishwasher. “Are we doing anything fun today?” she asks both of us.

You smile broadly. “A road trip and berry picking!”

“Berry picking? Yea!” our son says as he puts his empty bowl away too.

“Put on jeans and t-shirts you can get dirty in.” you say as they take off for their bedrooms.

You hear me sigh. “Does that include me?”

You get up, lean over, and hug me from behind. “This will be fun. Wait and see.”

After driving for about an hour and a half, you find the farm you want. You hear me grumble a bit when I have to pay to park, then there is an entrance fee, and then we’ll pay for whatever fruit we pick. “Dear, they have to make money somehow. Besides, when we’re done, you’ll enjoy it.” You say and kiss me on the cheek.

The small building with the scale has a stack of shopping bags, and you have everyone take one. “How much do you think we’re going to pick?” I ask.

“We’ll pick until the kids are tired. Come on.” You say, taking my hand.

We get to a row of plants that are loaded with berries.

“Kids. Watch how Mommy does this.” You bend down, hold the berry with one hand and the plant stem with the other, and pull until the berry comes free. “Be careful not to squish the berry or to pull out the plant.”

“OK” they both say and show you that they can do just as you did.

In no time, both our kids are moving thought the rows of berry plants, picking, dropping in the bag, then grabbing the next one.

As you are bent over, grabbing berries, you hear me say “I see something that I would prefer grabbing.” Then you feel my hand softly caress your ass through your jeans. “When you bend over like that, I love how your ass looks so round in those jeans. So ready to be…”

“Dear, I need you to do your part and pick berries too.” You then stand up and whisper in my ear. “When we get home, we’ll be all sweaty and I’ll need your help in the shower.”

I nod, and grin, remembering the last time we had shower sex. “Ok.” I say and kiss you.

My lips feel soft and damp against you. “Focus on berry picking first.” You say and wink. You see me move down the row and start filling the bag, keeping close to the kids.

The sun feels hot on your skin as, you quickly fill your bag.

“Mommy! Look how many I have!” our daughter says as she brings her mostly full bag.

“I’ve got more than her.” Our son says as he comes up behind her.

“Wow!” you say in an exaggerated tone. “You worked so hard. If Daddy is ready we can go and check out.” You see me following behind them, picking up a few loose berries that fell out if their bags. You smile at that and then tell the kids. “Make sure you grip the top of your bag so you don’t spill what you picked.”

Both of them watch how you gather the mouth of the bag closed and wrap it around your index finger, then grip with fist. They both try to do it. “Just hold them tightly closed.” I say as we go to the scale house.

The clerk wearing a t-shirt with the name of the farm, and bib overalls, watches as we place all four bags on the scale. “That’s almost 6 pounds.” She says. “You folks had a good time out there.”

You see her put the 4 bags into a large paper bag and then staple the receipt on it. I pull my wallet out and pay for it. “A little more expensive than the store.” I say under my breath. “But, wait until you taste them.” You say in a low tone. The clerk nods and smiles, as she hands you the bag. “Remember to rinse them well.”

“We will” I say and wave as we leave.

During the drive back home, you place your hand on my thigh and hum along to the music on the radio. Looking in the rear-view mirror, you notice that both kids are asleep.

“I think we tuckered them out.” You say quietly and lean against me. “Thanks for doing this. I forgot how much I missed it.”

I put my arm around you. “If your parents still had that house, we could have spent vacations there, but…”

You slowly nod. “They retired, sold it, and moved to retirement community down South.” Leaning against me, you feel my sweaty t-shirt. “When we get home, you are definitely taking a shower.”

Pulling into the driveway, you notice the kids are still asleep, so you grab the fruit “Let me put this in the kitchen first.” You say quietly. I nod, get out, and then unbuckle our daughter from her safety seat. You see her drowsy form, gripping me as I carry her in, then straight to her room.

A moment later I carry in our son. “Let them sleep for a bit.”

I nod, “They’ll probably wake up while we are in the shower.”

Stripping off our dirty clothes, we take t-shirts and sweatpants to change into, just in case. Our kids have woken up and interrupted us too many times, to not plan for that to happen.

I have the water already running, as you set the clothes and towels by the tub, and close the door. I kiss you and you feel my hands on your arms. “You look beautiful just standing there.”

You kiss me back, but also motion me to get in the shower. “I know, but stop wasting water.”

The water is warm but not hot. We both move around so we rinse the sweat off of us, then taking washcloths and soap, we lather each other up, facing each other. You feel my soapy hand and washcloth move around your breasts, and across your chest. You do the same to me, then we move around so the shower head rinses the soap off of us. I lean forward and lick your left nipple. “You are always so tasty.”

You feel my tongue and then my mouth as I suck it. You grab my head and pull me closer, then reach down with the washcloth and start washing my dick. As I continue sucking your nipple, you feel me reach behind you and wash your back, then down to your ass. I stop sucking and straighten up. The motion of your hand and washcloth has my dick hard for you. “I need to finish washing it clean, if you want me to suck it.” You say playfully. I move so the shower head sprays down my front, rinsing the soap off.

You squat down and get closer to it. “Let me check it to make sure it is clean”. Then you wash my balls as the other hand strokes my shaft. You continue stroking as you work the washcloth under and along the crack of my ass. The tip of my cock is so tempting. You kiss it and then lick around it. You feel me brace myself as you take me into your mouth. My hard cock presses down your tongue as you suck and bob your head back and forth. I must be excited because you already taste my precum, so you back off and stroke me looking up.

“Hold off for a moment.” Then you stand up, bend over, with me still blocking the water from the shower head. Pressing against the back of the shower you, feel me grip your hips and slowly feed my hard wet cock into you. I pull you slowly against me. The water creates that weird friction of wet skin against wet skin. You reach down and rub your clit as you feel me go deeper into you. My hard dick feels good inside of you, so you press back against me as I grip your hips tighter and pull you back and forth. Then I pull you tightly and hold you, as my cock throbs inside of you. You feel me cumming, which excites you and you close your eyes and feel your own orgasm.

Knock — knock — knock. “Mommy, are you and Daddy in there?” you hear our daughter ask.

“Yes, Baby. Mommy and I are showering. We’ll be out in a minute.” I say.

We quickly rinse off, dry each other, then put on the sweatpants and t-shirts. “You planned that well.” I tell you with a wink and a smile.

“Don’t I always. Now lets go make some freezer jam.” You say and kiss me.

(Come back next week for “Making Freezer Jam”. If you enjoyed this, like and leave me a comment. If you enjoy my writings, follow and subscribe. Be seeing you..)