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He
spread my legs apart as he lightly
licked the top layer of cream with the tip of his tongue, avoiding
contact with my inner folds and my clit.
Lick me, please, I begged with an almost silent whisper.
I
love it when you beg, he said,
giving the can another
squirt between my legs.
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His tongue
went at it again, this time delving just a
little bit
closer to my
tender tissues.
His
lips, his tongue, his breath were just close enough to
tease my tickling nerve endings mercilessly.
They felt like thousands of
tiny electrical sparks
short circuiting.
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I
placed a Maraschino cherry on the top of my clit and demanded,
Eat it, dammit! His tongue
quickly lapped up every trace of whipped
cream like a spatula off my labia, but he made a point of
working around my clit.
My legs shook and quivered against the firm hold he had on the
way he parted my legs.
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Without
words,
without a sound, I tried my best to lunge my
pussy toward his
face to
make my point.
I wanted him to suck that cherry and the rest of the whipped cream off my
clit and make
sure all of it was gone.
Every last bit of it, and then some.
He pulled his face away from
between my legs, stood up, and gave me a
devious look.
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He ripped my
skirt off, pulled my
shirt up over my
armpits, and grabbed a squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup.
He covered my mouth with
one hand
while he drizzled a
sweet, sticky trail from my pubic bone up my
belly to
each of my
breasts, making sure to
leave a
healthy dollop of liquid
milky chocolate on each
nipple.
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I had a
very good idea of
how thorough he would be as his
tongue followed the
chocolate trail.
My
legs were still
propped up and
prone with my
heels pounding a steady
rat-a-tat-tat on the
top of the
table as his warm tongue took its
time liking my
body clean.
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He took
his time savoring each nipple, licking and sucking each one.
The
louder I tried to
moan, the
harder he pressed his hand
over my
mouth.
I could feel the
whipped cream on my clit melt and drip.
Gagged
and voiceless, I grabbed his free hand and motioned it toward my clit. Sexy
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He remained focused on my nipples, devouring and biting them as if he was
trying to take
first place in a sundae eating contest.
Finally, he got
around to
sucking my clit clean,
being very thorough with his tongue to lap up
every last bit of cream, cherry juice, and my own love juices
that poured copiously out of me.
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When he pulled away and I
let out my
last gasp, he gave me a devious smile and said, My turn! He shimmed his
shorts down, took a seat in one of the chairs, and dripped a few drops of the
chocolate syrup on the
tip of his cock that was standing
straight and
tall.
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Of course I knew
what he wanted, and I could
play his
game, too.
I took my
thumb and
two fingers and
toyed with his cock at the
bottom of his shaft,
just barely pulling it down and gently lifting it up.
I
cast my
eyes up at him and just
smiled at him while I took my time at a leisurely pace.
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Dammit,
woman, I know you
want this, he said.
I nodded and kept
looking at
him while I
teased his shaft, building up my speed and power, and
feeling it
getting larger, harder and firmer with my touch.
I finally
opened my mouth and brought my head down only to let
out a
long, light and warm breath on his sac while wiggling his
cock back and
forth with my fingers.
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When he arched his back,
threw his head back to grit his teeth, and gripped onto the arms of the
chair as
tightly as he could, I finally took
pity on him and took the
head of his cock in my mouth.
As I was about to
take my tongue to lick the syrup that dripped down his shaft, he started laughing.
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I
can’t do this, he barely said
through a muffled guffaw.
I looked up at him, and
asked, What do
you mean? Rick
didn’t
say a word.
He couldn’t say a word.
He was
doing everything he could to
keep himself
from busting a gut … stomping his feet and
covering his mouth to hold back an explosive
laugh … but I finally
got my answer.
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Off in the distance from the
side of the
house, I could hear my dad muttering
something off in
the distance, and then a hand smack and short, sharp, high-pitched yelp.
We both covered
our mouths and
started giggling like
schoolkids.
Then we heard another smack and a louder yelp, this time followed by a soothing, Oooh, darling.
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We both started laughing again until I said, I can’t listen to this! I could never
imagine my
mother having sex, let
alone getting spanked and liking it.
Rick kept chuckling.
Hell, I
think it’s cool, he
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I hope I’ll still be chasing tail and smacking
ass when I’m
their age.
Seriously, I can’t
listen to this, I said, grabbing
everything I could in my arms to take
back into the kitchen.
Come on.
Help me clean up.
Rick grabbed me by my waist with
both hands, and said, Oh, clean you up, I will.
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Last one in the
shower is a rotten egg.
It was a small, rented, holiday
villa in
Greece.
I was
there with my
girlfriend, Elaine, a
very sexy,
dominant lady,
who has been my
friend,
lover and
mistress for
many years.
She works as a window
dresser for some top
High Street stores, and is
used to posing and
photographing the
shop-
window display dummies.
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I suppose it is
only natural for her to treat me
like one of them, when
she wants
pictures of me.
The villa was
lovely, off the beaten track, and quite
isolated, which suited us
perfectly.
Behind the house was an enclosed yard with a
small pool, and a horse-shoe shaped seating
area.
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It had wooden seats, which meant you put a cushion or towel down first, to avoid the risk of a splinter.
The seating was supported every few
feet by wooden
posts, which stuck up
about twelve inches above the
level of the back-rests.
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