Fresh Tarts, Blueberry

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

**Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned, expect to find mistakes.

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Just a flash story.

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"Stone ground, stone ground, yes!" Elizabeth 'Elf' Bergeron said as she located the five pound bag of stone ground wheat on the Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store shelf.

"Ma'am, don't do that," a smiling young man said as Elf jumped up into the grocery cart to reach for the bag. "Here; the stone ground?"

"Thank you," the nineteen year old girl said and climbed out of the buggy.

"Welcome," the young man said and grabbed a bag of Burns & Burns Grocers all-purpose flour. "Have a nice day."

"You too," Elf smiled and continued scanning the shelves.

Twice more, Elf had to jump into the buggy to reach items on higher shelves. Finally, she was finished with her weekly shopping and wheeled her buggy to the row of registers.

"Hey, Elf, what up," Kyrie Summer asked as she began ringing up the various items.

Elizabeth did not mind the nickname of 'Elf.' In fact, every year during the Christmas Holidays, she earned anywhere from one thousand to three thousand dollars acting as one of Santa's helpers at Abdul's department store in DeGarde, Louisiana.

The two former schoolmates chatted while Kyrie rang everything up. Elf slid the credit card and waved as Rodney, the mentally challenged man followed Elf to her car, pushing the buggy. As always, Rodney was polite, but hurried in his movements. He had an unnatural fear of Gilbert, the store's manager and never wanted Gilbert to think that he was slacking on the job.

"Thank you," Rodney said and accepted the three crumpled dollar bills Elf held out.

The four foot two inch girl used hand controls to operate her Chevy Malibu as she drove to her trailer. Once home, she quickly unloaded the car, then began on breakfast. First, she made a thick blueberry filling, stirring the blueberries and sugar together over low heat. The wooden bench made it easier for her to use the stove.

As she stirred, Elizabeth thought of Dennis coming into the kitchen and seeing her at the stove. She thought of him coming up behind her, kissing her on her neck, a soft, loving kiss. His powerful arms would wrap around her and squeeze her in a loving embrace. She would lean back against his muscled chest, she would smell his manly scent.

Then Dennis would playfully bite down on her neck, eliciting a squeal from her. His massive hands would come up and squeeze her 287C breasts. On her small body, her breasts looked enormous, but in his large hands, her boobs looked small.

He would squeeze her breasts, then pinch her painfully hard nipples between thumb and forefinger, pulling, tugging her nipples, stretching her full, round breasts away from her rib cage.

"Ooh," Elf moaned, thinking of Dennis mauling, torturing her breasts and nipples.

Jumping down from her bench, Elf decided to make it easier for Dennis to access her breasts and nipples. She untied the apron and wiggled out of her soft cotton blouse and plain white bra. Then she put the apron back on and jumped up onto the bench.

Her back was an erogenous zone for her; Elf loved the feeling of fingernails raking along her smooth flesh. She loved when her lover would kiss and nibble her flesh.

"Ooh, yes," Elf let out a little moan as she thought of Dennis lightly gnawing along her shoulder blades, her spine while his fingernails raked her back.

Sliding the bench over, Elf began to incorporate the ingredients to make the pastry shells for her hot, gooey blueberry tarts. She carefully measured, then sifted the stone ground flour into the large bowl.

While Dennis nipped at her back, he would continue to tease and torture Elf's breasts. Pinching and twisting her nipples cruelly, bringing Elf closer and closer to orgasm.

"Umm!" Elf moaned, just thinking of the harsh treatment her large breasts would endure.

Elf flung her knee length brown hair back, out of her eyes. Carefully, she folded the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients; overworking the mixture would result in a tough shell. Elf wanted the shell to be flaky, buttery, airy.

The shorts, Elf wore her khaki shorts, even though they were a size too small. The cuffs rolled up, exposing a goodly portion of her luscious bottom. In front, the camel toe was readily apparent.

Dennis would jerk the shorts down, busting the snap and ruining the zipper. This would leave Elf in her plain white bikini briefs and Dennis would tear the already quite worn fabric as he pulled savagely at her panties.

The apron would keep Elf's pussy covered; Dennis would not immediately discover that Elf had waxed her pubic mound, removing all of her scraggly brown wisps.

No, Dennis wouldn't see her bald pussy right away. Dennis would see Elf's sweetly rounded buttocks framed by the faded red apron. Dennis would see Elf's deep furrow separating her buttocks. Dennis would run his finger up and down the deep furrow. Every time his thick manly finger would rasp against her tightly clenched anus, Elf would give an involuntary jerk.

To save her shorts and her panties from being ripped away from lust, Elf again jumped down from the bench and removed both shorts and panties. She jumped up and spread the dough onto her pastry cloth.

Dennis would get his finger wet by sucking the finger into his mouth. Then, Dennis would jam the spittle wetted finger into Elf's tightly clenched anus. Elf would try, she would squeeze her muscles as tightly as possible in an attempt to keep Dennis from sodomizing her with his thick finger. His ragged, chewed fingernail would rake along her smooth rectal walls, scratching the tender flesh.

Elf could feel her excitement running down her bare legs as she worked. A few times, she had to stop and brace her hands against the counter.

A second finger would join the first finger in her already sore rectum. Dennis would scissor the two fingers apart, widening her weakly resisting bowels.

Dennis would use Elf's hair to pull her off of the bench. Elf would scream; she had not realized Dennis was naked. But he would be naked and his manhood would be jutting out, angry and proud. Dennis would use Elf's hair like a handle as he would jam his cock into her hotly sucking mouth.

"Suck it, bitch," Dennis would order. "Get it nice and wet for your ass."

Elf would slobber maniacally along the length of his cock, trying to get it as wet as possible. But no matter how much spit she coated his cock with, it would still burn tremendously as he pushed it into her backdoor.

"Oh ho! What? What's this? Told you, only little sluts, whores shave their pussies," Dennis would crow as he reached around to diddle Elf's clitoris.

"Yes, yes I am a slut," Elf would gasp when Dennis would ask if she was a slut.

Elf's rectum would be radiating waves of pain as Dennis forced his thick meat into her bowels. Dennis would be standing behind her, pushing himself forcefully into her guts. Elf's feet would be suspended in mid-air, just his cock and her hands braced on the counter would be supporting her.

"Elf could feel her thighs, feel her excitement dribbling down as she slid the tarts into the hot oven.

Elf and Dennis would moan when Dennis had his cock fully imbedded in Elf's ass. His coarse pubic hair would scrape and rub roughly against Elf's tender, stretched and raw anus. Elf would rest her head against the cool, unfeeling Formica countertop as Dennis fought to control his breathing.

Elf quickly whipped together a frosting of powdered sugar and ice cold milk and some butter. Real butter, not margarine. Dennis had once claimed there was no difference between butter and margarine. To prove that there was, Elf had made her famous buttermilk pie using margarine instead of real butter. She'd even used whole milk, curdling it with vinegar, instead of using real buttermilk. Dennis threw the pie away after two bites and conceded, there was a real difference between butter and margarine.

Even after ejaculating into her bowels, Dennis would not be satiated. He would grab a dishtowel from the countertop and clean his filthy cock. Then he would bend Elf over their kitchen table, her breasts flattening against the unyielding Formica top. Looking at her, legs dangling helplessly over the edge of the table, Dennis would see his semen dribbling from Elf's reddened anus, joining the trickle of her nectar, dripping along her puffy inner lips.

Dennis would shove his renewed erection into Elf's pussy. His cock would bump very painfully against the opening of Elf's cervix.

Elf would remember, she was not on birth control and this was a very dangerous time for her. She would struggle to get up, to dislodge Dennis from her pussy.

Dennis would laugh and hold her down; her struggles would be futile against his superior strength. Over and over, he would slam his cock into her pussy, until, with a bellow, Dennis would unleash a torrent of his sperm deep into her womb.

Don't burn the fucking tarts," Dennis would remind Elf, delivering a stinging slap to Elf's upturned buttocks.

Elf quickly pulled the tarts out and slathered an obscene amount of icing to the golden brown shells. Flinging the apron over a kitchen chair, Elf scampered down the hall to where Dennis lay, slumbering.

"Hey, Elizabeth; been cooking again?" Dennis smiled as his baby sister scrambled onto the bed.

Uh huh," Elf panted, reaching under the covers to grab his morning wood.

"You the only person I know cooking makes her horny," Dennis groaned as Elf's bald pussy flared open to accept his cock.

"Blueberry augh, tarts as, as soon as augh, soon as we finish, um, oh God yes," Elf cried out as she

Straddled his hips, driving him fully into her. (Squeeze, augh, squeeze them. Squeeze my titties."

The End.

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Like I said, just a flash story.

**Author's Notes: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my works, those that 'Favorite' my words.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.