Add: 5 August 2015 / 14:00
It was a delicate balance, the temperature and texture of the chocolate I was preparing to pour over his cock. It wasn’t really something I was prepared to get wrong, so I worked carefully, meticulously. Of course I had to test and taste it often, but one has to make sacrifices for true art.
I gently warmed the thick cream in a double boiler with a stick of cinnamon, carefully avoiding bringing it to the boil. The chips of dark Lindt chocolate melting in the cream took on a warm gloss as they started to liquefy. Mmmm – yummy!
Ensuring that the temperature was low enough, I turned to the beautiful red display in the bowl. Testing the chillies for firmness, I selected the prettiest and cut it in half so that I could carefully scrape out the seeds, and added the two halves to the pot, repeating the process with another two chillies because I wanted a good, strong chilli tingle in the chocolate, but not too much considering that I was going to be eating a whole lot of it soon.
Feeling a little like I should be saying an incantation or a blessing over it, I stirred the darkening mixture, loving the blend of colours as the chocolate melted into the cream, flowing into it in dark trailing twirls. The aromatic fragrance wafting up out of the pot evoked exotic fantasies as I swirled the mixture delicately and my mind flew down wonderfully wicked paths. I was already aroused, damply ready for the afternoon I had planned, but I was savouring every moment of the build-up, indulging in it.
I dipped a finger, savouring the cinnamon, testing the chilli. Uh-uh. Adding a dash of freshly ground cardamom, I allowed it to warm a little longer so that the rich spices could blend and merge into a spicy, Moroccan flavoured liquid chocolate. Stirring regularly, I was careful to leave the lid off: even a drop of condensing steam would congeal my decadent creation.
Next I prepared a platter of assorted fresh fruit. It was to be a sensual feast, so peaches, mangoes, berries, and bananas had to be there. I added some sticky green fig preserve, thinly sliced just because I adore it, and thin slices of ripe runny camembert. Prickled by my naughty sense of humour, I added some tinned pineapple rings to the platter.
Returning to the chocolate again, I tested the texture. It was a little runny, but as it cooled it would thicken. This time when I dipped my finger there was quite a strong prickle in my mouth. Shit! I hoped there wasn’t too much chilli. I fished the six halves out quickly. In hindsight, my mouth was stimulated but not actually burning, so it should be fine – I hoped.
Now for the cream. Another container of double-thick cream went into a bowl - a dash of vanilla extract, some sugar, and a pinch of freshly ground cardamom and cinnamon. A good whipping and I had a perfect stiff confection to complement the dark chocolate. Oh yes, this was coming together flawlessly.
The preparation was making my mouth water as well as my pussy. I was enjoying this intellectual foreplay for a lazy summer afternoon of the real thing.
He was waiting for me outside: lying in comfort on a blanket in the deep shade of the Jakaranda tree, nude and on the verge of drifting off to sleep. I put the tray down next to him and joined him on the blanket. In minutes I was also nude, ready to plate my feast and have a long, playful afternoon.
“Hon, I want you to lie completely still. If you move, I’ll have to hurt you,” I threatened him playfully.
“Mmmm,” was his lazy reply. He cocked an eye at me and let it drift closed again. Maybe I’d taken a little longer than I should have preparing our props for the afternoon because he and I were definitely not on the same page.
“Have a taste. Think what you’re going to miss if you fall asleep now.” I had dipped one finger in the chilli chocolate mixture, its neighbour more liberally in the whipped cream, and held them to his lips for him to savour. He started licking at it a little noncommittally, but I was pleased at how quickly the tips of my fingers were sucked into his mouth. Maybe my time in the kitchen had been worthwhile.
“Mmmm,” he commended my cooking efforts. Obviously the bite of the chilli wasn’t worrying him yet, but I had been careful to have more cream than chilli on my fingers. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise completely.
I ran my now-damp fingers down his body gently: light airy touches meant to stimulate. Once he started showing signs of arousal, I positioned him as I needed him, his arms stretched out high above his head, exposing his arm pits. Then I selected a bottle with a drizzle tip on it from the tray that I had already filled with the cooling chocolate. I tested the temperature on the inside of my elbow. Good: warm but not hot. Scalding him now would not be a good idea. Starting at his toes, I drew lines all over his body with the thin nozzle on the bottle, creating an avant-garde web of chocolate as the base of my ‘plate’. I worked up his legs, over his groin, criss-crossing his stomach and chest and up to his neck. His arms and armpits were similarly patterned before I was satisfied.
When I eventually felt my ‘plate’ was pretty enough, I started to lay out the fruit. I kept his face simple, with the chocolate only on his lips so that he could enjoy the smell and the taste of what was happening on his body as the chocolate dripped slowly into his mouth. I debated what to do at his arm pits, then sliced fresh juicy peaches onto them, imagining the soft juices trickling slowly down the hairs, arousing his nerve-ends unbearably. Mangoes, peaches and strawberries were laid out along legs and arms in pretty patterns. Oh, this was going to be a perfect midsummer feast.
“Are you going to finish anytime soon?” he pushed. Good, clearly he was starting to wake up.
“Not at all, my love. I am enjoying every second of this. I love watching the goosebumps on your skin as my fingers trail over this little dent at your hips,” I answered, encouraging him onto the same sensual page I was on.
“It’s because I’m enjoying it that I want more. And don’t play innocent. You have been teasing every erotic spot on my body on purpose, so don’t be surprised that I am worked up.” He was right of course, so I didn’t bother to answer him. I dropped a tart raspberry in his mouth to distract him slightly and carried on preparing my feast – our feast.
Now for the cream: I put dollops all over him and traced them in patterns into the chocolate. Clearly these little etchings were having an effect because he was shuddering now, moaning quietly as my little wooden stick drew the delicate designs, lightly caressing his skin in the process.
His nipples were free of cream and I decorated them with a fanned display of camembert topped with slivers of green fig preserve, before drizzling the syrup on top, watching it flow and blend onto his skin. Finally, with the rest of him prepared, I was ready to pay proper attention to his groin area.
His cock was fully erect now, not completely bursting, but standing to attention, which is just what I needed. I ran a finger up his shaft, enjoying the moment and envisioning what I wanted to achieve. My finger traced the web of veins up and down again, over the curve of one ball, onto the other. I cupped them together and pulled slightly, then trailed my fingers slowly up again.
“Yes, love, that feels so good.” He groaned, tightening his butt muscles to push his cock against my hand more firmly.
“Starting to wake up?" I teased him flirtatiously. “We’ve got all afternoon. There’s no rush.” I continued to stroke him lightly, enjoying the feel of his growing arousal.
“Mmmm. Don’t stop. You know how I love that.”
“But it’s making you wet, love. We can’t have that. It’ll mess with my chocolate.” Now his eyes were wide open, his normal humour gleaming in them.
“There’s only one thing for it then, you’ll have to lick me clean first.” Ever an opportunist, he wasn’t going to give up an opportunity. But then, nor was I.
“Well, for art,” I teased back as I carefully leaned across his body an all fours and flicked my sharp little tongue over his shaft, dipping in and scooping up the moisture oozing so freely now. I did what I could to clean his head, but as I lapped up one little drop it was immediately followed by another glistening little dewdrop friend. Admitting defeat, I moved on with my initial plan. Smiling, enjoying my own humour, I eased a damp pineapple ring over his proud cock. His eyes met mine as he laughed with me.
“That feels so-o-o good. It’s a little tight … wet … lovely ...” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t being entirely intelligible, but I was glad he was enjoying our foreplay as much as I was. I added another, just because he was good, squeezing the syrup out of the tinned pineapple slightly, letting it drip in tantalising dribbles down his cock as I squeezed its syrupy wetness over his head and onto his shaft, settling it above the other one.
I tested the cooling pot of chocolate on the inside of my elbow as well. It was warm, but pleasantly so, and had a nice viscous consistency. Working carefully, not wanting to mess a drop and spoil my artful pineapple arrangement, I carefully ladled the chocolate over his cock and balls, over the pineapple, covering it completely in the thick, waxy liquid. I added little dots of cream onto the pineapple and his balls, and twirled it into the chocolate that flowed over his groin in little etchings that matched those on his body, working very, very carefully with my pointy wooden stick.
“That feels so good,” he groaned as I traced the patterns, “You can do that forever. Don’t stop.” I didn’t. I sat there for ages, until my back hurt, tracing the pretty white patterns in the dark chocolate, and then reversing, drawing dark chocolate back into the white. All he felt was a gentle unremitting scrape over his surface – nothing intense, but continual flowing stimulation. His cock was fully engorged now, twitching every now and again for a bit more attention, but I was still in no hurry. This was about the pleasure of the moment, not about racing for any goalposts.
It took a few minutes before he started feeling the tingle of the chilli and I saw the wander and concern in his eyes as it started to do its job. True to his normal style though, he kept his cool, just raising his habitual lazy eyebrow at me.
“You’d better know what you’re doing down there!”
“Tingling a little, hon?”
“Tingling a whole damn lot, babe.” I kept my pose, hiding my nerves under an air of confidence.
“Well, I can always take it off if you’re not up for it,” I punned badly.
“Leave it!” he ordered almost curtly. “I’m up for it … and more.”
He looked almost perfect, so ready to eat that I was truly struggling to resist the temptation. I dribbled a few little tart raspberries and blueberries around his groin area. There was little left to do so grinning again, I cheekily arranged a little dollop of cream on his cock-tip, designing it to look like the first spurt of come. Finally, using the bottle with the thin nozzle that I had prepared especially for it, I wrote “Sexiest Man” on his skin just above his pubic hair in flowing chocolate script.
“Now you look just right, love. Almost too good to eat,” I teased, admiring my handiwork. I was literally salivating, eager to finally start my feast. All day had been spent building up to this moment, firstly with my preparations in the kitchen, and now in arranging him, so I was going to enjoy every lick, every nibble, every salacious bite. But the big question was ‘Where to start?’.
Because I was feeling primitively aroused, even animalistic, I went for his throat. I started at the top, licking first one trail of the chocolate web, crossing over to another. Finding a gloriously soft spot, I stayed to nibble there a little longer, eventually sucking the skin deeply into my mouth.
“Aaahhh, yesss, love ..yes.” were words that he repeated quite often in various combinations as my tongue swirled sometimes delicately, sometimes insistently over his skin. For a little change in tempo and texture, I moved to his armpits and massaged the peaches in deeply. The fruit was mashed to a pulp, so when I buried my face in his armpit, the fragrance was of wonderfully fresh, sweet arousal. I nuzzled and pulled the hairs light-heartedly before I got serious again, moving down over his chest.
His nipples were going to be a special pleasure. They were exceptionally sensitive and he adored having them licked and sucked so I had prepared them with my favourite sticky treat. The rich, ripe camembert had had a chance to run a little in the afternoon heat, clinging to his skin, and the syrup running from the green fig preserve further ran into the creases and crevices around each aroused nipple. Scraping my teeth across his skin, I picked up the whole camembert and green fig confection and brought it up to his mouth, dropping it in in a teasing kiss. I returned for the same treat on the other side and, scraping it off, enjoyed the treat for myself. Mmmm – divine! I savoured it slowly before returning to his nipples to suckle and lick them clean. The flavour they had been basted in was unbelievably good and I feasted there for an age, first the one side, then the other, ensuring that I got every last little bit of flavour from them before I moved on.
The pleasure for him as I worked at his hungry little nipples was clearly intense, so I thought it time to slow matters down a bit before we forgot that we weren’t in a rush. I moved to his arms, nibbling the fruit off there, sometimes sharing a piece with him in a kiss, and sometimes nibbling on the fruit myself. It was a wickedly decadent gourmet feast.
His cock was still standing proud, but the cream on it had melted almost completely and was running down all over him, blending perfectly into my etched chocolate. It was definitely time to feast there. Putting my mouth up close to his balls, scraping them with my chin, I started nibbling at the cream and chocolate covered pineapple. I moved his sticky shaft around so that I could reach everywhere. By then my face was almost as covered in chocolate as he was, but I didn’t care, I just carried on enjoying every bite, every nibble.
“Yes, please … oh yes .. don’t stop …” he groaned repeatedly, straining his body towards my mouth.
“Lie still or I’ll have to stop,” I reminded him sternly. He subsided a little, but I could still feel the tension in his muscles as he clenched, desperate to force himself at me, into me.
“Take me in your mouth. Now, please,” he begged. After a little bit more teasing and a whole lot of hovering over him to drive him to the very edge before I did, I eventually covered him with my hot mouth, sucking off the cream that was still left on the top and licking at the chocolate with a very active little tongue as I slid slowly down and equally slowly back up his tasty shaft.
This was a feast for the senses on so many levels. I gave myself over to it entirely, completely embracing it with all my senses. His excited moans were enhanced by the gentle rustling in the trees, the freedom of the call of the birds and the sound of civilisation in the distance. The natural smells of the flowers and trees were the perfect backdrop to the rich spices and tropical fruits I had dressed him in. But what I felt – that was all him: each contour, every sinew and muscle was explored, licked and caressed.
Given his personality, it actually took a little longer than I expected - his sudden rush to action. It was a testimony to how much he was enjoying the spoiling that he had left himself passive in my hands for so long. With alarming speed, and no small amount of dexterity on his part, he was out of my mouth and had me flat on my back. In milliseconds I was pinned to the ground and he was pouring the left over cream and chocolate over me in a line from my throat, between my breasts and over my stomach. Everything remaining was poured over my groin, to run and drip freely wherever it felt like flowing.
It took me a couple of seconds to adjust to the change, from long and slow to this maniacal assault. Before I had he was on top of me, rolling in the cream and chocolate, spreading it with his body as he laughed, kissing me deeply in between bites and nibbles and rolling on the blanket, completely oblivious to the chaos he spread in his wake.
Laughing with him I joined the fray. I wrapped my legs around him and, using his own weight for leverage, rolled him back until I was on top but he wasn’t taking that anymore, and so we rolled again, over the fruit and onto the grass. We were both laughing hysterically now, but that didn’t make it any less erotic. The harder we laughed, the more we indulged in our pleasure, the harder he got.
Somewhere in our rollings he had slipped inside me – hard, tight and permanent. It didn’t matter how we rolled, we stayed joined, until we weren’t rolling in circles anymore, but in sporadic waves as he bucked and ground inside me.
I was on such a high, that I’m not sure when I started cumming, or even how long I stayed on the high for. I wasn’t even aware of him shooting inside of me until, slowly, as awareness returned, I heard his breathing, felt our sticky joining all over our bodies and the huge quantities of cum flowing freely down my legs.
‘What will it taste like?’ I was still wondering when he dipped a finger between us and scooped some of our juices to lift to our joined lips. We licked together at the mixture of our cum, chilli-chocolate and the flavoured cream on his finger. It was so intensely personal, so deeply erotic that what was left of our decadent laughter finally faded, and we kissed before he slowly slip down my body, lapping as he went.
When he eventually reached his goal, the buffet between my legs, I was completely ready for him as he ate, lapped, sucked and feasted. It took me less than a couple of minutes to climax again, and he didn’t stop once, just carried on and on until every nook was cleaned, every bite consumed.
Afterwards, there was only one possible solution: we dove naked into the pool and, cleaner now, continued our love-play there.