Sweets for the Sweet
People tease me constantly about my incredible sweet tooth. I must have one, right? I work in a candy store, after all, a tiny shop located on the outskirts of Santa Monica called “Sweets for the Sweet.” Daily, I am surrounded by the most insane, fantasy-inducing confections: melted chocolate drizzled over hazelnuts, marzipan treats shaped by hand into decadent designs, hard butterscotch squares spilling over with thick liquid cream centers. But I’ve got will power. I never give in to my longings.
At least, not before the new girl arrived.
Jacques Merlhou is the French-born owner of the candy store. He decided in his usual flamboyant way that we needed extra help during our busiest time of the year — the ever-romantic Valentine’s Day rush. “Oh, Naomi,” he moaned, “we’ll never make it on our own. We need another hand, don’t we?”
I shrugged. I don’t mind working hard, but I don’t mind help either. I have no ego involved in my job, feel no threat from a fresh new employee. It’s not as if I’m staking my place in a cutthroat competitive career. I work in a candy store, not on Wall Street. But maybe I should have paid more attention to Jacques, to his extravagant gestures as he spoke and to the way he eyed me carefully for my response. My boss likes to think of himself as Cupid. He knew full well that I’d been between girlfriends for a while now. Perhaps he hoped to bring in more than an extra employee over the scarlet-hearted holiday season.
He is French, non?
Almost immediately, Jacques announced that the search was over. Again, my sensors should have been vibrating more raucously than a pager in my pocket, but I wasn’t in the frame of mind to pick up on any amorous indicators. I only half-paid attention as Jacques, beaming with pride, informed me that he’d found the perfect new member for our team.
“You will love her,” he said, running his fingers through my thick dark hair, as if he wanted to make sure I’d give a good impression. I smiled easily at him, remaining my usual calm, collected self. To my surprise, he even pinched my cheeks gently, to force a flush. He can be so silly that way, always fixing every last detail, from the pure white icing on a tiny chocolate heart to the lace-edged hem of my apron. On this day, however, he needn’t have bothered. When I saw Julia, I flushed just fine on my own.
“She’s here,” Jacques told me breathlessly, pointing as Julia walked through the door, accompanied by the tinkling sound of the jingle bells tied to the handle. When I saw her, I found myself both confused and conflicted. Yes, I can face away from a plate of freshly-created chocolate bonbons without a problem, but could I turn away from her? She was far more delectable than any candy I’d ever seen.
Tall and sleek, she sported a fiery mass of red curls worn up high on her head, revealing a stunningly long neck, dainty collarbones, and the finest sprinkling of freckles on her pale skin. Her ripe round breasts were clearly outlined beneath her formfitting cherry-red blouse, and her high-class ass filled out the rear of her short tight crimson skirt. To complete the outfit, she had on white fishnets and stacked heels that accentuated her racehorse legs.
Without seemingly aware of my instantaneous attraction, she put out a hand and took mine in hers. I continued to stare, realizing that she embodied a term we use often at the candy store, but one that I never had put on a human before — simply put, she looked good enough to eat.
“Naomi, this is Julia,” Jacques gushed. “She was trained in France, and she’s here to help during the holiday rush.”
“The holiday rush,” I repeated dumbly, while my mind faltered, suddenly unable to make any polite chitchat. Precisely how would she help is what I really wanted to know. Help me to come in every single fantasy that flitted through my filthy mind from the second I saw her? Help me to lose myself in the dirtiest daydreams of all time when I was supposed to be working?
As she murmured something about how nice it was to meet me, I saw her pinned down on my bed while I took advantage of her breasts and her plump, full mouth. We would look good together. With my dark hair and burnished brown skin, and her red spill of curls and ivory-pale body — we’d complement each other easily. But there was much more to my instant fantasy than how pretty we might appear on a sheet-strewn mattress — I saw my chest of toys open, a long pink jelly dildo working in one fist while I parted her pussy lips with the other. I saw the two of us in a sensuous 69, her wet mouth open on my sex while my tongue thrust inside of her, lapped at her until she bucked her hips and came. Where Julia was concerned, there were no limits on my mental creations. Her pert nipples demanded clothespins, or simple silver clamps fitted with a fine chain. Her pussy needed attention, as did that ripe, round ass of hers. Would I spank her before or after? Would I make her beg me to take her ass, or would I simply part her cheeks wide and dive inside? I knew what that would feel like, could sense somehow the exact way to prep her, using my tongue and my thumb before introducing her to the wonders of my strap-on cock and an ocean of glistening lubricant…
I’d never had such an instant reaction to a girl before. All I could hope was that my gaze didn’t give me away, that when she saw me staring at her, she wouldn’t immediately know I was not only undressing her with my eyes, but that I was fucking her with a hearty seven-inch molded cock, that in my fantasy world I’d not only made her come twice already with my fingers, fist, and tongue, but that I was now mentally drizzling warm melted chocolate sauce in the hollow of her belly and licking every inch of her clean.
She would be a dessert I wouldn’t be able to say no to.
“Go to it, my sweet mademoiselles,” Jacques cooed. “I’m sure the two of you will be best of friends in no time.” And then, before disappearing into the back room, he called back to me, “Naomi, you’ll show her the ropes, won’t you, doll?”
Oh, Jesus. The ropes. That was a delightful new thought. The lithe young Julia tied down, her slim wrists above her head, her thighs spread wide while I played the most indiscreet sorts of games with my tongue in her pussy. I thought I could smell her from where I stood, the secret scent of her, even above the sultry notes of chocolate that always permeate the candy store. It took every ounce of my strength to finally let go of her hand, which I’d been squeezing far too tightly, and to welcome her to the store. I’m sure that she thought I was cold, and perhaps even dark-tempered. At the very least, she might have thought that I was jealous of her arrival on my territory. Because on that first day, every time she sent a smile in my direction, I felt my face harden. Why — when all I wanted to do was melt before her, or make her melt for me? Simply, I couldn’t reveal my hand so quickly. What if she turned me down? What if she didn’t swing my way?
Our first shift together was a pleasure-filled hell, as I tried to act professional and explain the job, while all I could think of was excusing myself to go and get off in back of the store, my own thighs spread, fingers working fast on the melting candy center of my core. Luckily, Julia didn’t need much guidance. She took over her position easily, and she was as sweet-natured as I imagined her pussy to be.
“Am I doing okay?” she asked me on her second day.
I nodded and tossed my dark hair back out of my eyes. Julia took a step closer and used her own fingers to work my long wisp of hair back behind my ear. “You’re sure?” she said softer. “I’m not pushing you, not getting in your way?”
“No,” I assured her. “No, not at all.” I heard the ice in my voice, and wished I could do or say something to make her see what it was I wanted and why I was acting so tongue-tied. She widened her eyes for a moment, then shrugged and gave me an odd sort of look, and when Jacques walked in I saw him glance from her to me and back to her again.
By the third day on the job, she danced around me and Jacques as if she had always been there. We were a perfect team, in all but one way. Every time I looked at her, I saw her in another mental sex movie. Opening herself up for me. Beckoning me to come inside. When she moved next to me behind the glass counter, I could think only of spreading her out on the cool, glass top, of lifting her sea-green skirt and checking out what color panties she had on beneath. I knew they would be filmy silk, trimmed with lace, and I envisioned pushing those panties to the side and searching out the mouth-watering treat between her thighs. I wanted to dine on her, to ravish her, to eat her from the inside out.
Jacques called her into his office just before quitting time in the middle of the week. They had a hushed conversation behind closed doors, and when she came out, she gave me a look of understanding that made my cunt throb. What had he said to her? I could only imagine. Jacques is well skilled in the art of seduction. It must have been killing him to see me floundering. Had he truly played Cupid for me? And if so, what was her response to the arrow shot from my heart to hers?
She said nothing to me that night, but the next morning — on Valentine’s Day — her attitude to me seemed to have changed. I began to think that perhaps she might feel the same way herself. We worked so easily together in a tantalizing tango. Occasionally brushing up against one another. Holding each other’s gaze for a beat longer than necessary. There was a powerful connection between us from the word “go.” One that was so strong I could practically taste it.
“Sweets for the sweet?” she asked me at the end of the night offering over a sample of one of the chocolate dream puffs she’d just created.
I shook my head.
“You’re over chocolate?”
“After working here for three years, I truly couldn’t eat another bonbon if you paid me.”
“You’re serious?” she asked.
“But they’re divine. I can’t seem to stop snacking.” She licked her lips as if to prove the point.
“I know,” I said, “But I gorged myself in the first month on the job. Now, I’m immune. I did the exact same thing back in high school, working the popcorn counter at the local revival house. When others drool over the smell of salt and melted butter, I can shrug, untempted.”
Julia’s gray eyes flashed. “But there are other confections…” she said, waving one delicate hand over the variety of items displayed for sale. My eyes didn’t follow her gesturing fingers. I stared only at her as I nodded.
“Don’t you see?” she said softly. “Don’t any of them appeal to you?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “Some do. One in particular definitely does…”
The instant blush to her lovely porcelain skin let me know that she had read my X-rated thoughts. Or at least, she was privy to the most obvious ones. The baser ideas that I had couldn’t be so easily discerned, I was sure. Those would come later. After. But would she respond as I hoped? Was she as interested in me as I was in her? My heart pounded in anticipation, and I gazed at her freckle-covered cheeks, imagining that she had been dusted with the fine shavings of chocolate truffles. Oh, did I want to taste her. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone else quite as much. My hunger pulsed within me. I knew my cheeks were flushed, could feel the heat radiating from my skin.
“What about this?” she asked, bringing forth a sliver of candied orange, its rind coated in a casing of rich white chocolate. I shook my head, then moved to the front of the store and ever-so-casually flipped the “closed” sign out. Jacques was away playing Cupid with his own beau. It was the end of the day. Nothing else could stop me.
“This?” she asked next, holding out a cream-filled treat that I’d made myself.
“Something like that,” I agreed. “Creamy inside. So creamy. And sweet.”
“Oh, god,” she sighed, and the candy fell from her hand as I made my way towards her.
“Sweet,” I repeated as I lifted her around her slim waist and hoisted her up on the counter. She spread her thighs willingly, and I pushed up her skirt and received my first peek at the wonders beneath. I’d been wrong in my assessment. She wasn’t wearing silk panties. Nor satin ones. Or even the plain cotton variety that are charming to discover every once in a while. No, Julia had on something even more fucking sexy — and that something was nothing.
With her skirt up to her waist, I had a clear view of her naked pussy, shaved entirely and adorned with the sweetest drizzling of rhinestones. I’d heard of this sort of treat before — called “bare with a flair” — but I’d never come across a girl who’d gone in for the trend. In my opinion, it takes a very special sort of lady who will adorn her pubic region. One who must give a lot of thought to how she looks between her legs, and how others will think she looks, as well.
I thought she looked amazing. Just as our customers tend to ooh and aah over our most intricately designed chocolates and marzipan, I oohed and aahed over the delightful image of her crystal-covered cunt. The smoothly-shaved skin of her sex was decorated in a heart shape, so well-suited for the Valentine season, and I bent down and flicked my tongue so lightly over those raised jewels, making her arch her back and push forward. She obviously wanted to feel my tongue warming an entirely different treasure — the gem of her clit, which I sensed was now alive with anticipation between her sleek pussy lips.
Although I had refused the different sugary candies she’d offered me earlier, I had no plans on refusing this. With a quick breath in of her glorious scent, I brought my lips to her pussy and licked. And oh, fuck, that first elegant taste just about floored me. I’ve watched our customers roll their eyes at the samples we offer. Licking their lips and sighing at the true luxury of the first bite of a double-cream, liquor-filled bonbon. My expression must have echoed that sort of pleasure. That deepest of pleasure that can only come from tasting the richest, most tantalizing dessert.
Now that I’d had my first introduction, I wanted more. Bringing my hands into play, I spread open her lovely lips and used the flat of my tongue to caress her clit. I lapped up and down, then pressed forward, covering her entire clit with my tongue and holding steady. I wanted her to feel the warmth and the wetness, and I also wanted to bring forth the richest of creams from her dreamy liquid center. Julia groaned out loud and ran her fingers through my hair. She lifted her hips up to meet me, and I slipped my hands under her gorgeous ass and cradled her while I continued to dine. I had been waiting for this moment for less than one week, but it felt as if this encounter was years in the making. I wouldn’t be rushed, not by her insistent fingers twining through my dark hair, not by her breath as it sped up to show her excitement. Not by anything. I needed to savor every single moment, every lap of my tongue on her clit and inside her. Every thrust of my face against her pussy, bringing forth the sweet juices that I had fantasized about from the moment I’d seen her walk through the door.
“Jacques said –” she murmured as she started to come.
“Said?” I repeated, my breath against her inner thighs, my fingers trembling as I found her clit and pinched it firmly.
“The two of us together would be, oh, god, oh, Naomi –”
I lapped harder at her as I felt the power of her climax flood through her pussy. “Sweets for the sweet,” I finished for her, before ringing her clit with my mouth and swallowing every last drop.