Mason Jar
written by:
swampvenus

Now I don't know if you've spent any time here in the Deep South, any real time, but it can be so hot here that it changes your whole perspective on things. It can make you think in a whole new way.

I live in a huge, old plantation house by myself. It passed to me basically by accident as I was adopted as a baby by older parents who lived there. They died when I was fifteen, so a guardian of sorts monitored my finances and living there until I was eighteen, and then I was on my own.

The house sits in a bayou, which is a swamp of sorts. The bayou is beautiful, though, don't let the moniker "swamp" fool you. Yes, there are insects and creatures and such, but it is truly stunning, at least to me. The house is surrounded by weeping willows and other lush greenery, and there is nothing like sitting on the porch at night, listening to the frogs and other sounds, with a million lightning bugs flashing about you.

The house itself has three stories, although the top is more like a very big attic whose walls are mostly windows. I've taken that story as my studio where I make art, and my master suite is on the second floor along with some other rooms. Both the first and second stories are surrounded all the way around the house by porches, and a number of doors open out to the porches. It's lovely, because you can be outside from almost any room, and when the weather is fine, the doors can all be open and it's as if the house is partially outside itself.

When the weather is fine enough, I have a hammock on the second story to sleep in, and I often do. As a true Southern girl, I have grown up with the "sleeping porch" even in these modern times, and I'd never give it up. When the weather is hot enough, sleeping in a soft rope hammock outside is the coolest option—try it, you'll see.

I also have several bathtubs in the house, all the old-fashioned claw foot kind. One is out on the back porch, second floor. There is a large metal tub next to it to help fill it although there is a hose next to it. I have well water hooked to hoses as well as indoor plumbing. I also have a metal tub for bathing on the third floor, on a small porch that doesn't surround the house. Sometimes the heat is so oppressive that bathing outside in tepid or even cool water with the help of the breeze is the only way to do it. People sometimes ask me if washing your hair in a tub instead of a shower isn't a pain in the ass when your hair is ass-length, if you'll pardon the expression, which mine is. I have long, black hair about down to my ass, and it's thick and wavy, to boot. Really, I don't think it's much harder. You just need a pail for rinsing and some good, homemade conditioner, and I make plenty.

Some people have asked me if I'm not afraid, afraid in a huge house in the middle of nowhere, doors open all of the time, and even sleeping outside much of the time, and I'm definitely not. One reason is that we all know each other around here for miles around. Also, I'm on about twenty acres of land. There is not any kind of security system or anything like that, but you can't drive in because of the terrain except by the driveway. I can see the driveway from the house all the way in, and even at night I can see because you'd be a fool to try it without headlights. Even my guardian couldn't do it, and he'd be coming here for years!

Also, I grew up shooting and using a knife. Even when I'm wearing next to nothing which is a lot of the time, I *am* wearing a knife scabbard which houses a big, long hunting knife which I am absolutely not afraid to use, and which I am completely competent with. One time I killed a juvenile alligator with it, and believe me, he had no fear in him as a man would. That gator is on the wall in my kitchen. I cooked and ate him in a gumbo to remind me not to fear; this was when I was seventeen and still feeling the loss of my parents so I needed such reminders.

I also carry a .357 and a shotgun close by, but my real weapon of choice, especially for close quarters, is the knife. People don't realize how much more effective a knife is up close—that is, until you've cut them up. You don't even have to kill them if you don't want to. Cut their heel and they can't go anywhere, and cut their face and they'll never forget.

The one other thing that I always have close by is a Mason jar. I always drink out of one, regardless of what I'm drinking, from water to the finest champagne. Some think that this is tacky or silly, but to me everything tastes better in a jar. I have a huge herb garden outside, also vegetables, and I often make my own teas, and many times they occupy my Mason jar. You never know what's in it, but I always have the jar with me. You have to be drinking something almost all of the time, especially in the hotter weather, or you will be dehydrated. And anyway, I love my teas and my Mason jar.

I tell you all of these things so you will understand how I live now, because I live in a Mason jar of sorts myself. This is not to say I feel trapped in any way! No, not at all. I am freer than anyone I know. But like the most exotic of butterflies, I am on display for anyone to see who wishes it, in what seems most beautiful to me, the jar.

It all started the summer I was eighteen and finally free from all supervision. That was the hottest summer we'd had in probably 70 years. When I wore anything at all, I wore a gauzy, white cotton shift that had two ribbons for straps and was just long enough to cover my ass, but only when standing still. It was that hot. And the reason it was often better to wear that than nothing was that in that much humidity, especially with large breasts (even if they don't sag at all, and mine don't), it sometimes feels better to have something over you to soak up your sweat. Every day I'd wash it in a tub with an old wash board, just like my mama washed clothes. I do have a mechanical washing machine inside the kitchen, but I only use it for one thing, which I'll get to later.

You might wonder if I'm dirt poor or something to still use a washboard, and why the hell I don't have a huge ass air conditioner in there. Well, actually I came into quite a bit of money. Even so, I love and feel nostalgia for my lifestyle, which is why I keep it the same. And I came to find out I wasn't the only one attracted to it, but I'm getting there, so hold your horses.

So that summer, every evening, I'd wash that shift and put it back on wet. It was wet all of the time anyway from the heat. It was the kind of summer where you could get right out of a shower or bath and instantly be bathed in sweat, and you would be, no matter how cold the bathe was. And I would lay in the hammock—the smartest choice since air would circulate above and below my body—and put a thin, wet sheet over me and an old box fan pointed at me, and it was still pretty darn hot. So usually I'd kick off the sheet, keep the box fan, and be done with it. I always fell asleep anyhow, and it helped that the porches all had ceiling fans all over them.

One evening I was sitting in my hammock in my shift. It was stuck to my body, transparent, of course, and I don't mind telling you that my legs were slung wide. I was sipping cool tea from my Mason jar. My shotgun was leaning near me on the wall, and of course I wore my knife. My old phonograph (that's right, I was a real eighteen year old relic) was playing Bessie Smith as loud as I liked it. I was slowly swinging underneath the fan. Beads of sweat glistened all over me still.

I was watching the visual symphony of the lightning bugs and listening to the poetry of someone who had to be one of the saddest ladies ever when I noticed ...a person! I couldn't believe it, but I was pretty sure I saw movement out there, and the stature of a person. At first, my cool green eyes saw red!

I turned down Bessie, and called out: "I see you, there. You see me, don't you?" There was no reply. I didn't change my pose a bit. I showed no fear. I just kept slowly swinging. "So I guess you see that I could kill you in a second, then, if I wanted to." Nothing. "But still you stand there like a fool. Now why is that, I wonder."

All of the sudden, I couldn't help but smile. Of course I knew why, it was just so funny to me! And I started laughing in spite of myself. I knew there was no man who could take me down, and nothing to fear. So I turned Bessie up a little, just enough to enjoy her but not enough so I'd fail to hear him moving.

"Alright then, you go on and watch. It don't make a damn bit of difference to me, actually." I thought for a minute. "I bet you have a lighter or some matches, don't you?" No answer, of course. "Well, if you don't want me to shoot at you, you better flick that Bic once for yes and twice for no, got it?" To my great amusement I saw a flutter in the vegetation where he was and then one flicker. I laughed out loud.

"Good boy!" I hollered. "Course I don't know you're a boy, are ya?" One flick. "Okay then." We sat in silence, me swinging slowly in my clear gauze with my legs spread wide to show him my pussy which, I can tell you, is pink at all times but was getting pinker by the moment at this rather hot little amusement.

"You saw me taking my bath, didn't you," I asked him. One flick. "I bet you liked that a whole lot, right?" Sort of a hesitation, and then one flick. I laughed and said, "I get it! How about a new system! One flick for yes, two for no, and three for Hell, yeah!" I could almost hear him choking back laughter of his own and then I saw three flicks.

"I thought so," I said. I have a hell of a nice body, don't it." Three flicks. "And this ain't your first visit, is it?" I queried. Nothing but a pause. I took on a stern tone. "If you don't tell the truth and answer me, I swear I'll blow you away, man!" I hollered, arm on the barrel. "This is not your first time!" Two flicks, no it wasn't. I let go of the barrel.

"That's cool, I'm just asking." I slowly drew a long sip from my jar, throwing my head back, hair cascading down my back. With my other hand, I drew my fingers in circles on my thigh. I put the jar down. Too bad you never seen me play with myself in that tub, eh? That's what you were really hoping to catch, right?" One flick. "That's part of what keeps you coming back for more." One flick.

"You know," I said, "I really can't believe you've never seen me cum. Is that true, you've never seen me?" One flick. I laughed, and picked up my jar. I took another long draught and put it down. "I can't hardly believe it, you know, since I cum all the time." I thought I heard some panting.

"I'm going to show you now. And you can stop flicking if you want, because I think you'll be busy." I moved in the hammock so my ass was right at the edge with my legs planted as wide apart as they could be and firmly into the porch so I could be as nasty as I liked without worrying about falling. I pulled off my shift and although I knew he could see right through it before, I could hear him groan softly at the sight of my naked body, except for my knife belt, that is.

I rubbed my fingers down my mouth and lips, over my collarbone and chest, and ended up on my tits and nipples. My nipples stand up almost all of the time though I have small areolae, but they were really hard and stood out clearly while I was rubbing them. They were already wet from humidity and sweat, and so stroking and pulling them was easy. Slick and taut, it made me so horny to pull at them that I soon was jerking on them rather firmly. I could hear my friend outside. He was probably only thirty feet away, watching me, spotlit by the oil lamps on the porch.

"Ummm, this feels so good. I know you love watching me, this is something you don't have to tell me," I sighed out to him. "Too bad you can't feel this hammock, it's so wet now, and not just from the weather. It's wet because my pussy is totally hot, you know that, watcher?"

With that, I realized I wouldn't be able to give my tits too much more attention because of my selfish pussy, so I took them into my mouth before it was too late. I've always known I was a lucky girl for having big enough tits that my nipples could make it into my mouth. When you're alone a lot, it's so nice.

While I was sucking on my nipples, I really heard some shaking leaves out there. I took out my nipples and moaned, "You're not coming before the main event, are you watcher? I've got more for you. That is, unless you've got more than one load there. I heard an increasingly loud series of grunts and then groans, and then panting, and I laughed, rubbing my nipples again. "I guess you better hope you do, watcher, or I'm about to waste this gorgeous show I'm putting on. Well, no, it'll never be a waste since I'm going to cum my mind away. You know, watcher, I must admit, I'm glad you're there, it's making me really fucking horny that you're watching me, you know that? I love that you're jacking off watching me. It's a first for me, but I'm hoping it's not a last." I slowly moved both hands down my belly, beaded with sweat, and rested them for just a minute on my inner thighs. I spread my pussy even wider and heard another groan. "Aren't you glad I shave? Yeah, this is getting me so hot. Maybe you should tell your pervert friends, if you have the balls. Actually, all I care about is if you have the balls to make enough cum for me. I'm going to check the bushes tomorrow, you know."

I heard them start to move again, and that was my cue. I started to stroke my clit, which is nice and erect when it's even the slightest bit interested in anything, which is most of the time. That night it was standing at full attention, and I knew he could see it, red and tall, and my fingers moving it all around, pulling it and rubbing it in circles, getting a nice firm grip on it whenever I could despite how slippery it was. I couldn't help but make a lot of noise at this point, because I love to masturbate and I am a horny bitch.

I will also say that I couldn't believe how fucking hot it was getting me knowing that someone was watching me. I was telling him the truth. It made me dearly hope he'd be back, that anyone would be back. It was so safe and easy, but so risky at the same time, and it was the perfect combination for me. I was completely in control, and I loved being on display. It was like being a bent goddess of some sort and it was getting me off like nothing else.

So my clit was getting an incredible amount of attention and loving all of it. Still, that wasn't enough, and I wanted my show to be totally A list. Still playing my clit with my left hand, I groped for the box of candles on the porch with my right. I always keep them out there since the lights out there are oil lamps, and if I run out of oil or there is a bad, blowing storm I can use my hurricane lamps until I fix the other ones. But tonight, one lucky candlestick was going on special duty inside my cunt and it was going right now.

As soon as he saw what I had he moaned. He wasn't hiding at all anymore. I saw him step out partially. I couldn't see his face, but I could see his pants around his knees and his cock, hard, getting jacked furiously, which made my jacking all the more furious. Just for fun I sucked the candlestick base into my mouth as far as it would go, and then plunged it into my soaking wet pussy. With one hand I pumped that stick and the other I frigged my clit as though my life depended on it, and believe me, it felt like it did.

I knew I wasn't long away. I called out to him, "I hope you're ready to see me cum. I know you haven't seen anything like this. I'm going to cum all over this motherfucker. You're getting the fucking best show you've ever seen, and even fucking anything else live is never going to compare, baby."

I threw my head back, my tits bounced like crazy as my body got the best fucking it ever had. I started to feel waves of orgasm rocking my body and my pussy gripped that stick so hard I remember being surprised there was no wax inside me. I groaned and screamed as I came all over that candle and collapsed back onto that hammock. I didn't even hear my watcher cum again, but there was no doubt in my mind that he did.

I lay there for a few minutes, with the candle hanging out of me, just resting from my efforts. I reached for my jar, and took a series of long, deep gulps. I finally could speak, and I called out, "You can watch as long as you like tonight, but I'm just going to set a spell and sleep. I think you're a true voyeur, and so that will be something you'll want to see, but you do as you like. Now, if you want another special show, I'll tell you what to do. You come back in two nights, not tomorrow, but the next night. I will have something to show you in the kitchen."

I didn't speak to him again that night. Bessie was long done but I put on John Lee Hooker and turned him up. I poured out another full jar from the pitcher there and lay naked on my hammock. I rocked myself for a long while with one leg on the porch. I stroked my body, my arms, my legs, my belly, my tits, all of me. I fell asleep.

The next day, I could hardly believe that what happened was real although I knew of course that it was. I am a realist and I'm not afraid to look myself in the mirror and like what I see. I smelled the edge of the hammock and laughed at the fun of it.

That day I worked in the garden in my shift. I pulled tomatoes for eating and cucumbers for eating and also picked one special for my show. Since I grow them myself they are totally safe, unlike the kind you buy at the market which are covered in pesticides and wax.

I made tomato and cucumber salad with some goat cheese I had in the ice box and some homemade dressing and ate on the porch like always. I sat on the steps, eating thoughtfully, wondering if anyone might be watching. I drank wine out of my Mason jar. Late that night I ate biscuits with honey in my hammock. I fell asleep listening to blues and playing with myself, and that made for some honey, bluesy, sweet dreams. I wondered if anyone was watching me.

The next morning, all I could think about was my show that night. It reminded me of when I was a little girl putting on puppet or theater shows for my folks and their friends. I would get so excited and rehearse all day, and when the people showed up for the dinner party I got to put on my little play before dinner. I could put out my money jar and got lots of change in it, and raucous applause from my appreciative parents and their kind friends.

Of course this was a much different sort of show, and an even more different sort of audience, but it was nearly the same sort of thrill for me. I recognized the same streak in me from the time I was little. I was born this way, and it was all good!

In the afternoon, I bathed in the clawfoot tub on the second floor porch, which is probably the easiest to see from any distance, close or far. I washed my long hair. I made love to myself in that tub, slow and hard. I came so nicely leaning up against the cool back of that tub, and it felt so good in that cool water that I didn't mind the extra heat. I drank wine slowly out of my Mason jar.

Finally, as the sun started to sink, it was time to start the show. I knew Watcher (and who knows, maybe others) would come early, so the "preparations" would actually be part of the show. I meandered into the kitchen in my soaking, translucent shift. It was pulled up slightly so the bottom of my ass was exposed. My hard nipples poked through, standing straight and erect. Of course my knife belt was on, and my scabbard bounced on my thigh and ass, which was a very hot effect. My wavy hair was down and strands breezed in and out of my face. In the kitchen I poured myself some tea, a nice full jar. I did everything nice and slow—for as long as I could, anyway. The long, low window was open so you could hear everything I did. The double doors to the porch were also open. I have a phonograph in there, too; I do in almost every room I spend any time in. I had Roni on this time, a modern diva, belting sexy tunes nice and slow.

I stepped before the double doors, flung open. "Y'all out there?" To my mild surprise and more than mild amusement, I saw several lighters flick once. I smiled, and said, "Very good, because this ride is on. I hope you started watching before now—yes?" More single flicks.

Just in front of the double doors stands the washing machine that never gets used to wash anything except rugs. Well I was washing a rug this night, but only for my own benefit (and Watcher's of course). I carefully opened the lid. I spread my legs and bent all of the way over to pick up the rag rug off the floor before the washer. While I was down there, I fingered my clit and slid my finger up my pussy for just a few minutes, gyrating my hips while I did it. I felt so good, but that was off-script, so to speak, so I stopped myself.

I picked up the rug and put it into the washer. I crammed it deliberately all onto one side so the old washer would be off balance. It was old enough that it wouldn't cancel the cycle though off balance, it would just rock a whole lot. I should know, I've done this before, and it's a hell of a ride.

I then took my perfect cucumber from off of the table along with a stick of butter and turned to my audience. I peeled back the paper on the butter and took my time buttering that cucumber up, and I could hear lots of noise outside. When it was as greasy as could be, I put that butter next to the washer and started the machine.

Lifting my shift above my waist, it stuck there from the humidity and my sweat. I would have been sweaty anyway, but I was hot as hell from being horny, too. I had a feeling I was going to cum even better than I did during my last show, and that was saying something.

The washer was full of water. It started to churn, and I pulled it out so that it was at an angle, facing diagonally towards the doors so everyone could see. I then spread myself over the corner to mount that machine as it churned and vibrated, with the cucumber still in my hand.

I couldn't just sit still there, though. I really started to ride it. It wasn't long before I was moaning a lot, and knowing I had to make myself last through to the main event. The machine started to move more, trying to rock and walk out from where it was, and my strong legs had to keep planted to make it stay. All of the pressure got absorbed by my willing pussy, and the pleasure was nearly unbearable. I must have looked like I was riding a mechanical bull.

Finally, the spin cycle came, and I knew I was in for rough weather. It was time for my cucumber. I reached behind me, and slid the end of it into my ass. I gasped, and I heard a symphony of groaning outside (the last time I heard anything but myself until I was done with my show, I assure you). But I wasn't done. The spin cycle was giving me the ride of my life, and I was determined to take the whole cucumber up my ass while I had that ride. I finally finished shoving it there, and I fucked my ass with it while I bucked the machine. I fucked myself harder and harder and the machine did the same for me. Taking it from both ends that hard is incredible, especially when you're the only person on a stage and you have however many unknown watchers in the dark.

I held out as long as I could, but you can't hold back the flood with the levee forever, and I needed to cum more than I needed to breathe at that point so I went ahead and started. Jumping and bucking against that machine and pounding and fucking my ass as hard as I could, I started to scream and cry out. I must have been cumming for about a minute, and the whole time it was like I was in space, or maybe flying like a lightning bug myself. I was spinning, and the next thing I new, I was on my knees on the floor, head against a now silent washer, with the cucumber still in my ass, and one hand cupping my pussy like it might break.

I rolled onto my side so I was facing my audience. I saw plenty of lightning bugs, and many lighters, just slowly flickering as if they were applause. I smiled, and reached for my jar. My hands were shaky so I used both, and I drank, and I put it down again. "You stay if you feel like it, I'm going to bed on the bottom hammock."

I stumbled out those doors, dropping my veggie on the floor and taking my jar. I paused, feeling my face and my neck. I made it to the hammock. I heard leaves shifting as my watchers moved to that side of the house.

I can't remember what was on the phonograph, and I didn't care, I just started it up. I said, "You'll just have to keep coming. I like you there, I'm not sure what day but I like to play all the time. I'm an artist, you know." Many flicks.

I've been on display in my jar for some time now. If you like, I'll tell you more about it. Just let me know.