This is a quick, first person fantasy. Think of it as personalized erotica. I hope to post more of these that speak directly to the reader. Enjoy.
I start by making you a massive, decadent sundae with a ridiculous amount of chocolate syrup and way too much whipped cream. It’s the most indulgent dessert you’ve seen. Just making it creates a mess on the counter. I work slowly and my movements intrigue. You sit watching patiently, then impatiently. You want your sweets. When you see me finish, your eyes light up. You sit up and look at me, smiling and clapping as I bring it to you.
I’ve brought a long spoon suitable for feeding you such a treat. I offer the sundae to you in tiny scoops that are hilariously out-of-proportion with the size of what I’ve made. This means I’ll have to feed it to you slowly. In your adorably diminutive voice, you ask how you’re ever going to eat it all. I assure you I’ll help you get it down.
It’s a disaster. After just a few spoonfuls, syrup dribbles down your chin. Whipped cream is all over your cheeks. Gooey globs have fallen on your knees. I tease you with the spoon, pulling away as your lips are about to close on it. You pout. I bring it back to you, telling you to open up. Hesitant at first, you cooperate, opening slowly and letting me place the spoon in your mouth. You slurp it clean, gazing into my eyes and licking your lips. I tease you again with the next spoonful, pulling away as you try to reach it with your hungry little mouth. Cold drips of melting vanilla fall and hit your cleavage. You shudder a bit.
Feeding you has made me hard. I take your wrist and place your hand on my crotch as I feed you another spoonful. With the spoon still in your mouth, you smirk and begin to knead my erection. I take another scoop as you squeeze me lovingly. This one I don’t even try to get near your mouth. I purposely drop the entire spoonful on your chest. Pretending to lament this, you open up your shirt so your tits spill out. A lump of cream slides between them. You giggle and tell me it’s cold.
Now I smear a spoonful all over your face. I gather more syrup and drizzle it down your neck and over your curves. Unable to resist tasting you, I lean down for a kiss. I lick some of the syrup from your skin. I gather more with my fingers and urge you to suck them clean. You oblige. Your sultry slurping gets the better of me. I unzip my pants.
Looking at my crotch and back to my eyes seeking approval, I nod to let you know it’s okay. You reach in and grab my cock, carefully releasing me from the fabric before beginning to stroke. I give you another mouthful of the sundae. With a cool mush filling your palate and dripping from your lips, you begin to suck me. The mixture of coldness and warmth electrifies me. You work me softly, savoring me like a dessert. Then you become greedy. You want more. You suck me loudly and viciously. I moan for you and call you a good girl.
Reticent to interrupt but wanting to offer you another delight, I pull your head back, trickle some syrup over my shaft, and bid you to lick it off. You lap like a kitten at first, soon turning to long, hungry licks. I dump the rest of the bowl over your tits. You gasp. I laugh, but I give you another nod. You know what to do next. Glancing down at the mess covering your heart, you understand. You take my cock between your breasts, squeeze them together around it, and look up at me. Runny cream gushes out as I begin to thrust. I resist the impulse to make a banana split joke.
I fuck your tits hard. You hold them together, watching me slide through the ruined dessert. The head of my cock keeps hitting your throat. The pumping shakes us. I add more syrup, even giving you some to slurp from my thumb. As you clean it, I move your hands away from your breasts to squeeze them together myself. I’m throbbing between them as I continue thrusting. Your mouth hangs open, hot breath escaping. I love what we’re doing, but I want that heat again. I retract. I pull your hair and offer you my cock once more. I tell you not to stop until I come.
Minutes pass. I alternate between letting you suck me and holding you still so I can fuck your mouth. Watching how aroused you’ve become is too much to take. The streaks of cream running down your torso give me an idea. I have to act on it, because I can’t hold on much longer. I withdraw from your mouth, but I keep the head no more than an inch away. I tell you to keep your dirty mouth open. Your lips make a ring of chocolate. I tell you I’m coming. Inching forward, you look so eager, like I’m going to give you your favorite candy.
I erupt, firing several thick streams into your mouth. You moan as loudly as I do. I order you not to swallow any of it. Instead, I move back slightly and tell you to let it spill out all over you. Cooing, you do as I say, letting a column of warm, stringy love pour forth. It hits your tits like another drizzle of syrup. I watch it roll towards your heaving belly. Still shaking, I press forward, stuffing my pulsing cock between your tits and sensuously fucking them one more time. You smile. I recede and watch you smear the entire confection into your skin. Looking at my cock again, you see the final traces of the sundae, which you dutifully clean, purring contentedly.
Surveying your body, I ask, “What will we do about you? You’re a mess.” You pout once more and shrug innocently. I look over my shoulder to the bathroom and suggest, “Shower time.” You clap and wiggle your little feet.
I reach down to help you up. You reach up with grabby hands. Getting you to your feet and letting you walk ahead of me, I slap your ass as a prelude to what’s coming next. You yelp and turn with that coy smile. You’re so going to get it…