Free Erotica - Bacon, Lola & Tomato
- Bacon Lola and Tomato
- Free erotica at Libida.com
The first time Lola found out that Keith had cheated on her, she gained ten pounds almost overnight. I love you and I will wait for you, my sweet tomato, his email note had said when she "accidentally" read it on his computer, which was cute, except that he certainly never referred to her as any kind of fruit or vegetable . "It's nobody," he offered with a guilty shrug as she sat slurping her second bowl of ramen noodles, "just a way to waste time online and avoid working on my novel."
"I am not a tomato," Lola Maria Estonia pointed out to him, just in case he had forgotten. She flipped her long black hair in the way that made men crazy and wrapped it around his wrists as though she could hold him that way. "But you do always wait for me."
They laughed; she forgave him; they made love; she got up afterwards while he slept and made herself a big bowl of Apple Jacks with raisins and four teaspoons of sugar.
The day Lola found his cell phone bill she discovered the joy of a box of Krispy Kremes, fresh and warm off the rack, half of them eaten directly while she was still in the bakery, the rest of the dozen melting in her mouth on the drive home. It appeared that the sweet tomato lived just one area code away and received almost daily calls ranging from ten minutes to two hours.
"I love you, Lola Maria," Keith swore that night when they crawled into their four-poster bed, the same bed they had shared for one year, two months, and twenty-three days. "You are the heart of my dream," he whispered as he slid inside of her and gave the extra soft flesh on her bottom a spank. "You are the voluptuous overflowing lush root of every desire any man has ever had."
This was why she had moved in with him in the first place, because he had the words that could change the way she breathed. But now his words seemed to be adapting to her new body -- he used to only call her my fragile princess, my little girl.
"I'm sorry I've hurt you," he whispered as they laid in bed with their legs entangled afterwards. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
She hated to think of fighting with him, or worse, to hear him lie again. "I'm hungry," she finally answered, sure that more carbohydrates would make her vision of telephone bills disappear into sated bliss. So Keith got up and made her his special omelet with sausage and potatoes, no tomatoes, and for once she ate every single bite on her plate.
Lola Maria Estonia was up to a size 14 from her former size 8 when she finally went to visit the mysterious tomato. The sun was growing hotter and hotter as she stood on the sidewalk across the street from the address she had tracked down from the phone number. Lola was so fascinated that she took up more space in the world than she used to, even in the middle of the sidewalk, that she only smiled as the warmth grew under her red leather jacket, newly purchased from the Coldwell Collection in a comfy size for the "plus" woman. She had thrown out all of her old skinny jeans, although Keith had suggested that perhaps she should keep them because she would need them again soon. Lola had just smiled and gone shopping.
It didn't seem that Keith spent much face-to-face time with the tomato, because he was usually at home at his computer, or at his part-time job at the bookstore, or out with Lola. She wasn't about to ask Keith any more questions -- she just monitored his email and phone calls, as though she was a detective. She also checked up on his novel that he said he was almost done with, and realized he hadn't written much of anything in a long time. Why is it that I live with this man? she wondered on her bad days, but then she remembered all the words, and how he made love to her with such passion, and how she was almost sure he was her soulmate, not to mention a good cook.
The tomato came out the front door of her small house and walked directly toward a Lincoln Town Car that was parked just beyond Lola. "Nice jacket," she said to Lola as she passed by.
"Would you like to have it?" Lola asked in an awkward gesture of friendliness that she hoped covered her desperation to find out more about this tomato. She had heard that people did this in some other places -- Japan, maybe? -- and suddenly it seemed like offering another woman her red leather jacket on a hot summer day was a normal thing to do.
The tomato stopped, turned, and laughed, taking Lola in fully from head to toe for the first time. Lola wore a long black cotton skirt, a white shirt with her black lace bra peeking out, and heavy silver jewelry. "Would I like it?" The tomato moved closer and stroked Lola's arm, checking the fabric, checking Lola, deciding. "Sure. It looks like a good fit."
"Thank you," whispered Lola in her smallest voice, though she knew she was the one who was supposed to say "you're welcome." But she could not keep her eyes off the tomato -- she had long curly red hair down to her waist, large breasts, great cleavage in a tight black tank top, and black jeans that looked to Lola like they were just about a size 14, maybe even 16. She was almost, Lola realized, identical in body to Lola's new look, and if Lola dyed her black hair red, she thought she could almost be her twin. "My friends call me Cherry," said the tomato, slipping on the red jacket. "And you are...?"
"Lola Maria Estonia. Can I come with you?" Odd words were flowing out of her mouth, like someone else was writing them -- better dialogue, she thought with a sharp twist of spite, than anything she had ever read in Keith's agonized attempts at novel writing.
"Do you know where I'm going?"
Lola couldn't guess, but she knew she wanted to be there. The curves on the tomato's hips were hypnotizing her, and she thought that maybe she wanted to touch them. "To meet a man?" she guessed timidly. "My boyfriend's in love with you -- maybe it's him?"
Cherry tomato laughed again, a long rollicking laugh, a laugh that Lola wanted to climb inside of and ride on, knowing it would carry her to a new place. "They're all in love with me, sweetheart," Cherry finally said. "Let's go eat meat."
The steakhouse was wood-paneled with high leather booths, an old-style male bonding place, complete with a private cigar room. Cherry tucked Lola into the booth seat and then slid in beside her. They each ordered the 14 ounce prime rib, baked potatoes with sour cream and butter, no salads, and chocolate amaretto pie for dessert.
"It's just phone-sex for me, sweetheart," Cherry explained between bites. "But as soon as I tell them I have long red hair and big tits, they're in love. The attention is great, along with the money. It supports my other passion."
"Keith has phone sex with you? Keith...pays...for phone sex??" Lola repeated in amazement.
"Keith? I don't remember their real names very well -- what's he like?" "Well, he's really smart... and he talks a lot, but I guess everyone must to have phone sex. His words -- they're fancy, poetic, sometimes a bit over-the-top -- he's a writer."
Cherry scooped up the last bite of pie and turned to feed it to Lola. "Open wide, sweetheart." As it melted in Lola's mouth, Cherry began to kiss her and lick her lips clean. "Yes, I know which one he is, baby," she whispered through the kisses. "I call him 'Bacon' -- I give them all meat names, my little joke, but they think it's a macho compliment -- he's a bit... greasy, isn't he, doesn't seem like your type."
Lola couldn't imagine why she should care, and could barely remember who he was herself. This woman, this tomato, this lovely plump mirror image of herself, was driving her wild with her lips and her fingers running up and down her legs. Maybe this is why I just keep eating so much, she thought, to be worthy of someone like her.
Cherry's fingers were high up her thigh under her skirt, beginning to stroke rhythmically toward her clit, when the waiter reappeared with the check. "Thanks," Cherry said to him, "we do have to hurry, we have someplace to be." Lola assumed it would be her bed, or the backseat of the car, or anyplace nearby where they could continue. "No, sweetheart, I'm an organizer," the tomato explained to her on the way out. "We have a demonstration this afternoon. Consider yourself recruited -- I promise you'll think of yourself differently after the day is done."
A group of about twelve women had gathered in the park just off of the Walnut Street open-air mall. They were holding signs, and there were hundreds of other people on the mall, most of them barely paying attention to the women. A few of the women were on rollerblades, one was doing tricks on her skateboard, and another had a baby on her hip.
Cherry parked the car and turned to Lola.
"They're waiting for me...for us, to start, baby. Take your shirt off."
"Your shirt -- take it off. Here, I'll help."
Lola decided this was a game, a tease, so she let Cherry unbutton her shirt and slip it from her shoulders.
"Nice, baby, good girl..." Cherry was unhooking Lola's bra and kissing her nipples, sucking on them, pulling slow and hard, sending the tingle right down to Lola's toes. "We should get them pierced," Cherry told her between kisses. "That always stops the cops."
"Cops?" Lola pulled away, just as two women with their picket signs approached the car and banged on the window for Cherry. The sign that Lola could see said: TOPFREE! TAKE YOUR SHIRTS OFF FOR EQUALITY!
"Yeah, you know, cops -- pigs -- that other mostly white meat around here," the tomato answered. "Technically, they can arrest us, but they rarely do, as long as we get the girls with the best tits to talk to them."
Cherry pulled Lola out of the car before she could answer, looping Lola’s shirt into her jeans belt beside her own top she had stripped off. “You're a goddess," Cherry said as they joined the group on the lawn, "and you have as much right to be shirtless as any man does."
It was hot, and there were lots of men on the mall with their shirts off, and nobody looked twice at them. Lola watched as all the women around her took their tops off, in awe at the variety of breasts and backs and skin tones. "They're beautiful," she whispered to the tomato.
"Exactly. So why is it that women have to keep their shirts on? Because they can feed babies from their nipples, a purely natural act? Or is it because women are nothing but sex objects to men, almost like pieces of.... meat?"
Lola laughed and stood up a little prouder, her newly plump breasts perking up a bit more. "I've never even thought about it," she confessed.
"I know. Yet if you go out and do it by yourself somewhere, even on a beach, it's a criminal act. Equality for women is my passion, sweetheart, and nothing makes a stronger statement than this."
Lola had to agree as they began their march down the mall. Some people cheered, some booed, and a lot of men hooted and cat-called at them. But no one stopped them -- Cherry went in the record shop to buy a CD, and though the manager asked her to put her shirt back on, she said "no," pointed to a man in the jazz aisle with his shirt off, and then proceeded to make her purchase and leave.
"No. That's about my favorite word for women." Cherry had big, gorgeous, heavy breasts, and though Lola was trying to think about politics and women’s rights, sex was churning between her thighs. "No whining, no fuss, just 'no, I won't' does wonders."
Lola trailed behind her like a puppy dog, trying to remember if she'd ever said 'no' very firmly to Keith or any other man anywhere in her life.
"Hey, T-Bone, what's happening," the tomato said to a tall dark-haired man who greeted her near the central water fountain. Lola watched as the man kissed Cherry's hand, never touching her breasts, chatted for a few minutes, and then turned to go into a pizza shop.
"One of my clients," Cherry explained.
"Your client? They come here to see you? Does Keith...come... see you?" Lola raced over her words as she tried to wrap her mind around the sudden image of Keith seeing her half-naked in a public street mall.
"Bacon? He has. Some do -- after I know them for a while, I tell them to stop by one of our demonstrations, it's good for them -- seeing me in the flesh raises their consciousness and their cocks at the same time."
Lola stood speechless as she watched a security guard approach the group. He looked them all up and down -- one woman was quietly breastfeeding while sitting on the edge of the fountain, others were chatting, some had packages from their purchases, and one woman with lovely brown breasts who looked like she might be 60 or so had pulled some yarn from her fanny-pack and was happily knitting and purling while waiting for the group.
"What do you think you're doing?" the guard said, a bit tentatively.
Cherry held Lola's hand. "Well, she's shopping for some new clothes, Afton there is making her granddaughter a sweater, and the rest of us are just relaxing." Cherry's breasts were about two inches from the guard's chest while she was talking, and Lola knew, just knew, that when he put his hands in his pockets it was not to pull out a gun, or even a ticket, but to keep himself from stroking her nipples.
"Well... I think you should all put your tops back on, ma'am..."
"No. We can't do that. I know you believe that women and men are equal, right? So if you ask us to do that, you'd have to ask Bratwurst over there to do the same." She nodded toward a stocky brown-skinned man who had his shirt off and was talking with the woman on a skateboard. The guard looked toward him for an explanation.
Bratwurst just shrugged toward Cherry. "She's a hot tomato," he said with a wink at the guard.
“Yeah,” echoed T-Bone, overhearing as he rejoined the group, pizza in hand. "And she’s explained it clearly enough to me. Tits just want to be free.”
“Well done,” Cherry whispered to the giggling Lola. “I train them well.”
The security guard rolled his eyes and shook his head. “OK, girls, just be gone when I come back this way later.”
“No,” the tomato said loudly to his departing back, but he didn’t turn back to argue with her.
Lola never saw him again during the afternoon, though she imagined him hiding in shops and peeping at them whenever he could. After the rest of the group left for the day, Cherry dragged Lola into the Dress Barn Woman store, saying only, “Let’s go change clothes.”
In the dressing room, which fortunately had a wooden door that locked and went almost down to the floor, the tomato told Lola to strip.
“Everything. Now. We’re going to change clothes -- with each other.”
Lola pulled off her skirt and her panties and watched Cherry take off her jeans. They stood side by side in front of the mirror and looked at each other, their breasts tanned from the afternoon of sun, their sturdy hips, their matching curves, their long hair only an inch or so different in length -- maybe not twins, Lola thought, but definitely sisters.
Cherry held Lola in front of her and caressed her. “Watch me,” she whispered as her hands ran down over Lola’s belly and her fingers began to slide inside Lola, who was already soaking wet.
“Watch me watching you,” Cherry whispered again, and Lola met her eyes as Cherry’s thumb stroked her clit and two fingers twisted deep inside of her. “More,” Lola sighed, “more...more.” Cherry slid a third finger inside of her as Lola leaned back against her and began to shudder.
“Open your eyes and watch,” Cherry said, and she did, and all she could see was feminine skin and beauty and softness and her own trembling legs and Cherry’s strong fingers bringing her to the finest orgasm she could ever remember having.
Cherry began to dress her in her jeans and tank top, but Lola protested that it was her turn. “Not yet, sweetheart,” the tomato laughed. “Right now, I’m hungry.”
“I don‘t know if he‘ll be there,” Lola said nervously as Cherry drove her home.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cherry said with a smile, Lola’s thigh pressed up against hers as she drove, her right arm draped around Lola’s shoulder. “He’ll come.”
Lola thought maybe she wanted to stay sitting just as they were in Cherry’s old-style car forever, with Cherry wearing Lola’s skirt and shirt, minus the black lace bra since it wasn’t quite big enough. They could drive around town, calling out new meat names for men, calling out to women to take their tops off for equality!, then ride off into the sunset, stopping every now and then to climb in the big back seat and fuck each other into some kind of happiness. “Check the missed calls on my cell phone, baby, I’m sure you’ll find he’s around. But tell me, Lola, do you own a strap-on?”
Lola saw Keith’s cell phone number on the phone, and tried to care, but she was too busy giggling at the idea of herself with a strap-on. “No, just a regular plug-in vibrator. We’ve never been too big on sex toys.”
Cherry patted her shoulder like a child. “You’ll find that Bacon has plenty.”
“Yes, baby, check his gym bag that he never goes to the gym with.”
The sudden curiosity growing over Lola was stronger than the rays of final evening sunlight piercing through their windows. “What do you do with him, Cherry? Why does he call you?”
“About the same as all guys, baby. They stroke themselves, they fantasize, I fantasize for them, they imaging sucking my tits...” she said, guiding Lola’s head to that spot, unbuttoning one more button for her to imitate. “Then I almost always have them picture me with my big black strap-on fucking them up the ass, while they do it to themselves with their own dildoes and plugs.”
Lola sucked, pressing her head hard to Cherry’s breasts, while she felt her wetness almost flow down to her toes at Cherry’s words.
“Yeah, I know,” Cherry whispered softly to her, “it’s hot, isn’t it, baby. You can see why I do it for a living.”
“He’s never asked me for that,” Lola said, coming up for air. “My finger there, maybe sometimes, but nothing else.” “And that’s your answer, isn’t it, why meat comes to the tomato -- to get what they’re not comfortable going for elsewhere. Don’t worry, baby, we’re here, and Bacon’s got everything we need. We’ll sizzle.”
They took their tops off, even though it was dark, and ran up the stairs to Lola and Keith’s place, but found no Bacon in sight. Lola found the gym bag immediately, and couldn’t help but laugh at the variety found there.
“Let’s greet him with them,” Cherry said, starting to lay out a trail of toys from the front door to the bed with Lola’s help. “Save these two, baby, that’s what you’ll need.”
They raided the fridge and fed each other in bed; they raided each other and ate, and ate, until the entire apartment smelled like sex, and contentment. The sound of his key in the lock woke them both from their drowsy sexed-out sleep. Cherry jumped out of bed and covered Lola up with the quilt.
“You can’t be here!” Keith said as the tomato stood in front of him stark naked and greeted him with a kiss. But she felt for his crotch and he was already hard, so she only laughed and walked him carefully through the toy-trail toward the bed.
“Lola will come home!” he tried again, but she assured him that wasn’t a problem, and he began to lose track of his concern as she unbuttoned his shirt and kissed him again, hard. When he started moaning, she stopped undressing him, stepped back and said, “Bacon, strip.”
He stripped for her, quickly. Lola popped up from beneath the covers and stared. Bacon. Keith was tall and lean, and if Lola squinted at him just right he did look like a piece of bacon -- hot, a little slippery, not necessarily good for you, but tasty.
“Lola!” He looked more than stunned, staring at the two voluptuous naked women in front of him, rather like he was watching both his wildest fantasy and his worst nightmare come true.
“Lola, get dressed,” he said in his firmest boyfriend voice, trying to regain some control over the situation. “No,” she said, and it sounded like someone else’s voice, a strong voice, a voice that could stand up for itself anywhere in the world. “No, I won‘t.” “Don’t sweat, Bacon,” the tomato jumped in. “We’ll fuck you, you’ll cook for us, we’ll talk -- grill you even maybe. It will all become clear.”
Keith smiled, then frowned, but Lola noticed that his cock never went down. “Lola, I barely know this woman...nothing she’s told you is true...you both need to get dressed, and she has to leave.”
“No,” Lola said, this time in the voice of a goddess, a voice that owned not just its sexuality but its freedom, its joy, and the strength of a dozen proud women. She brought out the lube and his silver rocket dildo and held them up to him with a sweet smile. “No. No more lies.”
She moved toward him and spanked his ass lightly. “Bend over, Bacon.”