Ray has big, rough, laborer hands, and he uses them to make the best vanilla crÃ¨me brulee. After he slices the strawberries, he brings out his mini-blowtorch. He scorches the sugar topping into a golden brown crust.
I try to savor each bite, but the spoon moves too fast. Each bite is the perfect mix of smooth, sweet cream and crunchy, sugary crust. I don’t try to stop the moans coming from my mouth.
Afterwards I ask him, “How do you make it taste so good? That’s the best dessert I’ve ever had.”
I know he’ll never tell me, but I have to ask.
He shows me his same half-grin. “It’s a secret,” he says.
We’ve been together for five years, but he still won’t share his culinary tricks.
The warmth in my belly spreads elsewhere. I rest my hands lightly on his thighs. I ask him, “Are you ready for your dessert?”
He smiles yes.
He starts with light kisses down my neck and moves to my shoulders. His hands start to knead my lower back at the same time. I relax a bit more, and I toss my shirt to the floor.
I’m wearing his favorite bra: the plain pink one with the hooks in the front. No lace, no frilly stuff, just smooth cotton. He massages my breasts, nibbling and licking my earlobes. He unsnaps the front of my bra, and my bra joins the t-shirt.
He lifts me up and places me in the dining room table. He sits down and pulls his chair closer to me. I rest my feet on his thighs.
He sits with his big hands in his lap. His eyes linger on my neck and my breasts.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“I’m just enjoying myself,” he answers. “I’m enjoying the view, and I’m enjoying myself. You’re so beautiful.”
He leans forward and rubs his warm face against my body. His hands move up and down my back, and I move them to my front. I place his jock hands over my breasts. He cups them gently. My nipples grow hard under his light touch.
I reach behind me, and I grab blindly. I find the jar of honey. I dot my nipples with it and smear a few dabs between my breasts. Now I am really his dessert.
He sucks the honey off me. His mouth feels so warm, almost hot. I push my fingers through his thick, dark hair. He licks my nipples clean and continues to suck harder. He moves from one to the other, never resting for too long. He swirls my nipples with his tongue, flicking them to make them harder. I’ve never been one of the lucky ones who can come by breast play.
He brings me very close.
He pauses to tell me, “You’re wearing too many clothes.” Then, he helps pull down my jeans.
My panties join the jeans on the floor.
He lifts me up and lays me down next to my pile of abandoned clothes. He spreads my thighs and rests himself between them. I prop myself up on my elbows so I can watch.
We lock eyes as his mouth dips towards me. He finds my clit with his tongue. He caresses it with his mouth until it’s as hard as my nipples. His tongue lingers between my legs as his fingers caress my inner thighs.
I let myself fall back on the floor. I play with my nipples, and he takes my clit into his mouth. He sucks it in one movement, and he flicks it lightly with the tip of his tongue.
“I’m so wet,” I tell him. I feel his busy lips curl into a smile.
His tongue moves lower, and I shudder at his warmth. He licks me, his tongue moving inside me. He uses his lips to nibble lightly at my lips. He tastes me until his chin is covered with my wetness.
“I want you inside me,” I tell him. I reach for him, and he gently pushes me back down. His mouth covers my clit, and he slides a finger inside me.
I trap his head with my thighs. He adds a second finger, and my moans are getting louder. He sucks my clit gently. He continues to fuck me slowly with his thick fingers. He licks my clit until I come. I make his entire hand wet, and he licks me clean.
Finally, I open my eyes. He stands before me, and his shirt comes off. I watch him as he slides his pants and boxers down. His thick cock is hard and ready for me.
He covers me with his body, and I wrap my legs around him. He uses one hand to guide the tip of his cock inside me. He rubs his head against my wetness. He enters me in slow motion until he is all the way inside me.
He closes his eyes. He whispers, “You feel so good. I could stay here all night.”
My arms encircle his neck. He moves slowly inside me, like he’s learning my body for the first time. I grind against him, and he groans into my neck. He enters me with long, slow thrusts. I tell him how good he feels inside me. I tell him how hard and thick he feels. My words encourage him, and his thrusts became faster.
I grab his ass with both hands. I murmur a request into his ear: “Take me from behind.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. I roll over to my side, and he spoons me. I part my thighs for him, and he slowly enters me. I’m so wet that he slides right in. He brings his arms around me and cups my breasts. He starts playing with my nipples, rolling and pinching them with his talented fingers. I grind my ass into him.
From this angle, I feel more of him. He fills me with short, even strokes. I touch myself with one hand, and I start to rub my clit. Even my thighs are wet. His thrusts become rougher, and I urge him on. His fingers replace mine, and he strokes my clit between two fingers.
He alternates between long, smooth strokes and short, hard thrusts. I tell him, “You’re going to make me come.” He grunts in response. He thrusts hard and deep, and his hips slap my ass with a steady beat.
I move his hand away, and I rub my clit faster. My vibe is in the bedroom, but that seems too far away. I feel the head of his cock rubbing against my spot. Not the G-spot. It’s that one spot inside me that can bring me over the edge.
I feel the first wave of orgasm, and my clit trembles under my touch. Even to me, my moans sound incredibly loud. I shudder around his cock, and my thighs clamp tighter. Heat travels all the way from my wet center to the rest of me.
He groans into my neck as he comes inside me. I feel his warmth filling me, and I grind against his hips. Finally, we’re both still. He tells me, “Let’s stay like this for a little while.”
I hear him drifting off into sleep. He falls asleep with his arm wrapped around my waist. I try to coax him towards the bedroom, but he’s not budging. I find an extra-comforter, and I wrap it around his curled body.
The next morning he wakes to the shriek of the smoke alarm. Still nude, he runs to the kitchen when he smells smoke.
I wave the spatula at him. “I’m okay,” I tell him. “Everything is alright. The windows are open, and the fire is out.”
He points at the blackened lump in the frying pan. “What was that supposed to be?”
“That was supposed to be French toast,” I answer.
He stretches, raising his arms high over his head. I watch the muscles on his torso flex. My eyes wander below. Well, hello, there.
He rakes his hand through his hair. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ll make you some waffles with strawberries and whipped cream.”
That sounds delicious.
I grin at him, and I wrap my hand around his hard-on. “Why don’t we start with a little dessert?”