Her name is Periwinkle. She runs, with her husband, a pear farm in the Midwest. Her family owned it for generations, but being the only child, the name changed from Bosc to Williams with her marriage. She and Ted had been high school sweethearts. As a matter of fact, Ted is the only man Peri has ever known, in the Biblical sense of that word. She remembered vividly their first unchaperoned date, when he could drive with a full license, not a learner’s permit. They were both so overjoyed to be on their own, they skipped the movie and drove straight to a remote location to park and make-out. Peri had let Ted take her bra off, and for a full minute he just stared at her pert breasts.
“They are perfect!” he said as if in prayer.
“They’re small,” Peri corrected.
“May I touch?” he asked in the same reverential tone.
“That’s why I took my top off, silly.”
He couldn’t help himself, he both held the two ripe pears and kissed them simultaneously. Peri couldn’t help herself; she threw her head back and let him have his way. She hoped he wouldn’t notice that she had to touch herself between her legs before he came up for air.
He reiterated, “No, they’re perfect! And they are going to look as perfect when you’re sixty as they do now…” She felt sincerely complimented, but was unprepared for what he then added, “and I want to be there when you’re sixty to continue praising them…” She kissed him, but it didn’t seem like a simple kiss to either of them; it felt like a promise. No, even more deep, it felt like a commitment.
It wasn’t until his folks went out on a date themselves two months later, and the young couple had his house to themselves, that they progressed to the next step, and Ted took all of Peri’s clothes off. (If they’d had to wait for Peri’s parents to go out in the evening, they would have had to wait years; farmers don’t go out that much.) Again, when Ted drew Peri’s panties down, he stopped and stared.
“You’re making me self-conscious,” she complained giddily. Ted sank to his knees and helped Peri step out of the small garment. But he didn’t stop staring. Peri would have guessed that Ted was a tit-man by the reception her boobs got upon their big reveal, but she had to change her mind now. Ted didn’t articulate his thoughts because no woman wants to hear that she is pear-shaped, but in Ted’s book, this was a good thing. This was a glorious thing. Peri had a nice, round ass, and it was right at his eye level now. “Get up, please!” she blushed, but instead he crawled on his knees over to his bed, and was ready when she laid down upon it.
“Would you call what we’ve done up to now ‘getting to second base’? I don’t know…” he asked as he touched his tongue to her slit.
“I don’t know either, but what does it matter?” and she sighed.
“You know, with my name, I like to keep my baseball terminology straight,” he said between licks.
“What do… you mean… Ted?” What he was doing was clearly getting to her, getting to her in the best of ways.
“Ted Williams…” he said as if introducing himself, “he was a famous baseball player from long ago…”
“Oh… I didn’t know…” Peri stated between gasps, “but confidentially… you’re hitting… a homerun tonight… champ!” and she pressed his face hard into her crotch.
Ted brought Peri to climax with his tongue, then rolled on a condom. Peri cocked her legs up so her knees were by her ears.
“God, I’ve waited so long for this,” she smiled broadly, smiled in two places, actually.
“You have?! I’ve had blue balls for weeks straight!” he put his cock an inch into her.
“What’s that, blue balls?”
Ted thrust and was through her hymen in one sudden instant. Then he erased the second of pain with long moments of the most pure pleasure Peri had ever experienced.
“Never mind that now,” he whispered as he set the rhythm with his hips. “I’m never going to have them again! I’m going to make love with you every day…!”
“I wish…” Peri moaned prayerfully. They didn’t talk anymore. They couldn’t. The sex was too spectacular. It was like his erect penis was made for her tight vagina, it was the key that fit her lock, made the tumblers fall. The phrase “you complete me” has grown trite over time, but it was true here. She only wanted Ted, and he only desired Peri. It was like they invented this new game, making your lover smile and sigh and moan and squirm and thrash about and scream, and then climax. They shared orgasm, together, so profoundly, so perfectly.
And sex only got better after that. They couldn’t do it daily, but as often as they could do it, they made sure to make it a celebration. They watched and learned what pleased the other most, then did that the next time. For instance, he thought she liked it best in the missionary position, where she could gaze into his eyes, and kiss him as often as she was so moved. But one evening, after doing it that way, she suggested they try it in the doggy position. She found he seemed to get into her deeper this way, that they both were less inhibited when they were looking in the same direction, not at the bed’s headboard, but at their future together.
On their wedding night, she insisted that she didn’t want to take off her elaborate gown before joining with him.
“I just want you to rip my panties off and fuck me for the first time without a condom!”
Peri got her wish. The sex was so much more incredible for Ted, being inside her, feeling her warmth and wetness so intimately; it thrilled Peri to see him so overjoyed. There were no barriers between them from then on.
“Do you wanna know a secret?” Peri whimper-whispered, feeling confident, now that they were married, that she could bare her soul to her life-mate. Ted nodded vigorously, unable to make words. “When I masturbate… I like to finger… my butt hole. It feels so sexy, so good, so fun to be dirty! Do you want to…?”
His finger was immediately rimming her, teasing her, making her lose control of her hips and buck and arch, as if she was a bronc in a rodeo. Ted held on, Ted violated the sanctity of her anus, he pushed his middle finger up her all the way to the knuckle, and met her energetic gyrations with his own. He loves squeezing her plump cheek with his left hand, appreciating its heft, the softness, as juicy as a ripe pear, shaped so much like a perfect pear, as he reamed her tight pink anus with his right hand’s middle digit, fucking her there, too, in and out with that digit, making it ruby red, making Peri moan and beg. As you might expect, from then on, this was a part of their love-making-ritual. As you might expect, one small step at time, it was only a matter of time before Ted was asked to put his erection up there, instead of that finger. Peri said all sorts of nasty things when he was making love to her in this special way. She knew that Ted took pride in being a dirt farmer. At these moments, she relished calling him her “dirty farmer,” “the only one who has permission to trespass up my dirt road,” “fuck me in my ass, lover!”
Of course, that didn’t mean that they forgot to do the deed in the normal way. They had a child about once a year, in fact, children who helped out round the farm. These past few years have been difficult economically, but maybe most of all for our agricultural industry. Both European and Asian conglomerates have tried to purchase large tracts of farm land. It means that Peri has spent as much time in conference calls and Zoom meetings as out in the sunshine, trying to unify with fellow small farmers.
So the next time you eat some flavorful fruits or vegetables, remember the farmers who produce this produce. And the next time you bite into a luscious, ripe pear, have its clear sticky juice drip down and off your chin, think about Periwinkle Bosc Williams, Peri with the plump pear of a posterior.
(Once again, like in “Apolonia,” I wove some of the names of pear varieties into this story. I had over 3,000 to choose from; can you find them?)