Scrumping Stories

Shimmying up the tree, scrumping on my mind. Eve’s scold scuppers my plucking fingers. My boyfriend skedaddles, I slide down to earth. Surprisingly the orchardist’s daughter proffers ripe fruit, suggests I snag a bite. Masticating, juices seep down my throat. Sliding down her knickers, Eve’s sex glistens in the sun. Boyfriends and apples banished from our minds. The knowledge tree’s fruit such a seductive siren, forevermo...