I gasp at the cold sensation invading the depths of my canal. I can feel the cold, smooth bulbous end massage my G-spot. I gently work the glass ove... it again and again. My finger stills on my nub, but only for a little while, for I know that I will need that sensation, that drive again, to push me over the edge, but I am not ready yet. My free hand goes up to tweak on the clamps that are tightly attached to my nipples. The pain is full of pleasure, and I can feel my clit engorge even. I met The Peach, as it was basking in the ultraviolet light of a local market. The Peach was almost smug at the fact that it was one of the chosen. It wasn't sent to be 'canned', or made into jellies or preserves, as were many of the lesser peaches. Nay, it was deemed to be 'the cream of the crop', and was to be sold as a 'fresh peach'. Displayed for all the world to see, its only comfort, was the eternal light that shone upon it.It was here at the market, as I sorted through the peaches. More

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