A BODY FOR A LUXURY BUFFET.......... A STORY
His lips lingered against mine. The chilly foyer suddenly seemed steamy and my head began to swim under the cover of his wine tinged kisses. I felt his tongue exploring my mouth, lightly yet deliberately. This kiss was exactly as I imagined it would be, full of passion and longing.
I leaned in closer as if trying to climb inside of his kiss and remain there forever. He held me tighter, sensing how much I needed and wanted him. His chest felt full and strong against mine. My belly quivered and my legs grew weak. I felt like one of those women in an old black and white movie, engrossed in an intensely romantic moment, while outside the world went on about its business, keeping a respectable distance from this most private and intimate connection.
His voice was gentle and full of ache and longing as he spoke to me. “I want to feast on you, Lilly,” he whispered.
My mind instantly began racing with thoughts of his wet lips plastered across my pulsing, aching and fully engorged slit. I reached down and rubbed myself to ease the growing ache between my legs, but his hand found mine and he led me from the foyer and into the kitchen.
The room was awash in a deep orange glow from several candles that he had lit earlier. It cast a romantic aura over everything. Across the long dining table he had laid a thick, burgundy, velvet table runner. There were no chairs at the table, which I thought odd. I noticed an array of fruits and creams beautifully arranged on the counter and I thought back to his words. “I want to feast on you, Lilly,” and they suddenly took on a new and intriguing meaning.
He pushed me back toward the table, until my bum was leaning against the plush edge of the velvet runner and slowly peeled my clothing from me in provocative fashion as his eyes feasted upon my newly emerging nakedness. My arms wrapped around his shoulders as he leaned in to kiss me and I felt his hands cradling the small of my waist as he lifted me off my feet and sat me on the table.
“Lie back, my love,” he commanded, and I did exactly as I was told. I could sense what he was about to do, and though I found it most unusual, it was also quite titillating.
I stretched to my full height along his dining table, covered in nervous gooseflesh. My pert nipples poked out against the cool air and I trembled slightly.
“Close your eyes.”
I did.
I could hear the can of whipping cream being shaken up. A thin smile erupted across my lips, but I said nothing. The whooshing of the cream as it exploded from the can along the midline of my torso startled me and I couldn’t help but giggle. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was while sploshing, but the laughter had erupted before I could stop it. I hoped he didn’t mind.
The cream felt really cool, but surprisingly soft and silky against me. I liked it. He continued spraying me with the cream, forming neat rows from just beneath my breasts, to my pelvis. He then held the can just millimeters above my hard nipples and squirted dollops of cream into tiny mountains atop them.
Like a child that couldn’t resist the creamy treat laid out before him, he leaned over and began to devour the cream from both nipples. His hot saliva and the waning cream left sloppy rings on my quivering skin. I could actually feel my pussy twitch and throb as he feasted upon his decadent treat. Go figure. I had never once thought of food as sexy. Sure, I had washed my hair in lemon juice in the summer to enhance blonde highlights. I had used avocado masks to cleanse my skin and I had even taken a milk bath once to add to the silken quality of my body, but I had never masturbated or thought of those collisions of food and the body in a sexual way. They weren’t meant to be.
He picked up slices of fresh strawberry, blueberries, raspberries and green grapes and began to push then into strategic places in the cream up and down my stomach. I felt his hands wrap themselves around my thin ankles as he pulled my legs slightly open. I melted into the table runner as he began to massage my legs. The feeling was sensuous, relaxing and…moist? I peeked through tiny slits in my eyelids to see the culprit. Chocolate pudding. Eewww… and yet… ahhhh. It felt good, like a sensual massage with a nice oil, perhaps.
My thoughts turned to finger paints and a classroom full of kindergarteners creating beautiful wildflowers, magnificent suns, and brilliant butterflies on otherwise blank white paper. Once again, I smiled, though this time more broadly as I realized that my body had become this man’s canvas.
He spread the chocolate pudding from my thighs across my knees and down my shins and calves. Finally, his hands came to rest on my feet. He gave each foot ample amounts of attention, massaging them deeply with the thick, sweet treat. His thumbs pressed firmly into the arches, slipping effortlessly through the pudding before his fingers traveled up and down my toes slowly pulling each one toward him and rubbing them. A throaty moan escaped my lips. Because I had closed my eyes again, to concentrate solely on the feeling of my feet in his hands, I was surprised to feel his mouth covering my toes, sucking each one deeply and licking every last bit of pudding from them. His mouth was warm and my feet tickled as he devoured his luscious dessert.
After several glorious minutes feasting on my previously aching feet, he stood up, reaching for a strawberry, which he dragged in agonizingly slow fashion through the softening cream of my belly, which was now beginning to drip down my sides and onto the table. Up from my navel to my breast the strawberry traveled, almost teasing me. I could feel the slight prickle of the seeds against my skin. Then suddenly, it was being pressed against my slightly parted lips. I opened my mouth to receive his cream-covered berry, and savored it on my tongue. Once again, I felt my pussy twitch, but this time, I wasn’t surprised. A familiar ache had been building inside of me since this man set his hands, and assorted desserts, on top of my body, and the desire that this ache betrayed was becoming more intense.
His mouth set upon the buffet before him and he inhaled the juicy berries from my stomach, one by one, eyes closed, lost in his own decadent feast.
“Turn over,” he whispered seductively into my ear. His breath set me awash in a fresh coat of goose flesh and I obeyed him.
My ass was a thing of beauty and I knew it. I was actually pleased to roll over and allow him to gaze upon it. I wondered what delicious perversions he had planned for it.
He lifted a small cruet of chocolaty syrup from the counter and began to drizzle it along my spine and from side to side. I could feel the sticky liquid dripping down my sides. He retrieved an unpeeled banana from the fruit tray and pulled back the perfectly yellow skin. His movements were slow and deliberate. Who would have thought that peeling fruit could be sexy?
Before long, I felt the cool, naked banana tickling my spine from the base of my neck to the crack of my ass, where he laid it along the entire crevice. This might have seemed completely strange and foreign twenty minutes earlier, but now, it seemed anything was possible and I was open to all of it. A wicked smile crossed my lips again as I contemplated what else he might do with that banana. Wow. Food could be sexual after all!
Once he had satisfied himself with the chocolate syrup, he held a small sifter of confectioner’s sugar about a foot over my back and began to pump the handle. The fine power floated through the air, weightless, until it was sprinkled everywhere. Once again, he picked up the banana and ran it over my back, this time from my ass to my neck, coating it in chocolate syrup and powered sugar, before holding it to my lips.
My eyes bored into his, my stare hard and unwavering. I opened my mouth in slow motion, stuck my tongue out suggestively, and clamped down on the cool fruit. His eyes were wide with fascination and approval, clearly delighted that I was playing along with his somewhat twisted, erotic game.
I really didn’t know whether or not he had an erection. I wasn’t sure how his fascination with food fueled his sexual desires, but I was becoming more and more aware of how it was arousing me. I was laying naked, covered in sticky syrups and fruit juices, ass exposed. I was vulnerable and I wanted him to penetrate me, not with bananas, but with his spectacular cock. I had not yet seen it, but I knew it had to be amazing. I had imagined it throbbing inside of me since the day I spotted him in, of all places, the produce section of the market. He was a commanding presence, professionally dressed, freshly shaven, with thick dark hair and piercing black eyes. When he spoke to me I went limp and it felt as if a million butterflies had been set loose inside of me. When he asked for my phone number, I was almost giddy, shaking as I handed him my business card, praying that he would really call. Who would have imagined that what really turned him on, was not my spectacular bosom, cupped soundly into the black lacy push up bra I was wearing, but rather, the way that I squeezed the cantaloupe?
When he had had his fill of fresh fruits and their accompaniments, he cupped my face in his palm, raising it slightly toward his own face, as he knelt before me.
“Let’s get you into the shower,” he cooed with a mischievous grin.
I realized then where the real sexual contact would take place. He fueled his own passion and desire by spreading the slick treats across his human canvas, but his release would come while he was pressed up against me under the steamy shower. I slipped my hand into his and followed him to the bathroom.
His body was as incredible as I had imagined it to be. A modicum of sparse black hair sprung forth from his perfectly formed chest but his pubic hair was completely shaven. I wanted to go down on him and run his smooth cock between my lips, but I let him lead the way. This was his night and I wanted him to feel satisfied that he had played out his apparent fantasy exactly as he had imagined it.
His hands traversed my body, wiping away the remnants of his dessert. The shower smelled sweet and chocolaty. The aromas from our confection were soon joined by the scent of rosemary and mint as he worked a generous portion of shampoo into a rich lather and massaged it into my scalp. The fingernails of both hands were well-manicured and he used them to apply just the right amount of pressure to my scalp, causing my body to spasm slightly under the weight of my pleasure.
Finally, he turned me toward him and pressed himself against me. His cock poked at the v-formation between my thighs, as if asking permission to enter. Thank God. I opened my legs, raising one and balancing it on the side of the tub. I could feel him fumbling with his cock as he guided it toward my anxious, dripping slit. It slid into me effortlessly and before long, he was grinding his hips against mine, our bellies slipping against each other’s. I wrapped my thigh tightly around his waist as he filled me to capacity, grunting and grasping me desperately. My tongue pushed into his mouth and I voraciously savored the taste of cream and berries from his lips.
Suddenly, his body grew rigid, his face contorted with the telltale signs of ultimate satisfaction and his breathing stopped momentarily as he filled me with his own creamy dessert. This sent me over the edge and I joined him in sweet release, cumming with such ferocity that I nearly lost my footing.
After he pulled out of me, we stared deeply into one another’s eyes for several seconds. Without warning, we simultaneously smiled, started to giggle, and found ourselves eventually in the midst of a cleansing belly laugh. His laugh seemed to suggest that he realized how bizarre his brand of foreplay was, and my laugh suggested that I agreed, but loved it.
I’m not sure why, but for the first time in my life, after fucking this delicious man, I had an overwhelming urge to shop for fresh produce.
