Last year he took me for a weekend in the wine country.  The year before he sprang for a lady’s day at the spa.  I buy him the latest electronic gadget or something for the computer he’d buy anyway, but it makes him feel less guilty if it comes with a birthday card.  But that summer he was painting houses and I was teaching an S.A.T. cram course and we were scraping by on macaroni and cheese from a box.  And lots of hot sex.

I’d set aside a little money to celebrate George’s birthday, but it wasn’t much.  I was all set on a pizza and beer party for two, until one afternoon when I was slogging through a vocabulary exercise with my students, and we came to the word “luscious.”  And there it was, the vision, hovering before my eyes:  George’s lips pursed around a chocolate-covered strawberry, a drop of blood-red juice glistening at the corner of his mouth. 

That’s when I changed my plans.

While my own lips intoned silver-dollar words to my bored captives (“magnanimous,” “malfunction,” “malleable”), the rest of me was floating back to one lazy summer evening back in college when my housemate, Kristin, and I were baking cookies for a beach picnic with two guys we wanted to get to know better.  She found some recipe that used semi-sweet, milk and white chocolate chips and I was already a little high on my gin-and-tonic when I said—I don’t think we need to get so fancy with the food.  You know the guys will just be staring at our tits the whole time. 

Kristin definitely had her bossy streak and she fixed her gaze on me and said, “I think you need a serious lesson in seduction.”  Then she sauntered off to her bedroom and came back with a scarf, which she tied around my eyes, then sat me down at the kitchen table.  “I want you to tell me which kind of chocolate you’re tasting.  If you get it wrong, I might have to give you a spanking.”  Kristin liked to joke around, so I didn’t take her too seriously.  But then she waited, for a long time, before she pushed the first morsel of chocolate between my lips.  I sat there, quivering in dusk of the blindfold, suddenly wondering if I would get it right.  Would it be milk chocolate?  Semi-sweet?  Or would she trick me with something else?  My whole body was nothing but two swollen, tingling lips, waiting.  

I’ve never forgotten that feeling.  

With George, it would be even better.  I could think of all kinds of things I wanted to slip into his mouth.

 ****

Oddly enough, it wasn’t until the big night that I thought to wonder whether George would agree being blindfolded and bossed around was a good way to celebrate his birthday.  He certainly had an adventurous streak.  He liked doing the deed in daring places like the wooded area of the local park or the deepest corners of our college library.  And he was always up for a new sex position, although we never did manage the one with me in a handstand.  But those were the standard sex games you’d expect from a Midwestern boy.  This was a step into new territory.

George ended up being a real sport about wearing the blindfold, one of his red bandanas that made him look like a hostage in a cowboy flick.  And he submitted graciously when I pushed him onto the sofa and made him cool his heels while I gathered the treats: milk chocolate, dark chocolate, a bag of gummi bears, and the grand finale, a big bowl of homemade rice pudding.

I noticed, as I brought in the pudding and set it down on the coffee table, that he was already hard in his jeans.

“You aren’t peeking, are you?”  I’d changed from my S.A.T. Drillmaster dress into slutty cut-offs, George’s favorite because they kept riding up into my crack.  I didn’t bother with a shirt.  It was warm July evening and I figured since no one was going to see me anyway, a bra would do.

“I can’t see a thing.  Honest,” George said with a grin.

“If you cheat, you’ll be the loser.  It’s more fun to be surprised.”

"I’m at your command, Princess Amanda.”

"Open your mouth, birthday boy,” I said in a properly regal tone.

A shadow of a frown hovered the part of his face I could see.  Was he scared?  The thought gave me a sweet, funny feeling in my tummy.  But then his lips parted.  He was breathing fast.  So was I.

Careful not to touch him, I dropped a yellow gummi bear onto his tongue.

He began to chew, a smile playing over his lips, relief visible in his shoulders. 

“Tasty,” he said. 

“Ready for more?” 

He nodded, but instead of reaching for the chocolate, I paused to study him for a moment.  He looked different with a blindfold over his eyes.  Without his expressions to distract me, he wasn’t really my sweet old boyfriend George.  He was a male body, sinewy and dark from all those days on a ladder out in the sun, an object to be devoured without challenge.  I let my eyes glide over the taut curves of his arms, which were definitely bulked up since the beginning of summer.  Luscious, indeed.  

This game was really turning me on. 

My hand trembling slightly, I held out a square of the milk chocolate bar.  “All right, treat time again.”

George tilted his chin and opened his mouth like a little bird.  I placed the chocolate on his tongue, but this time I left my fingers there.  He sucked them slowly as the chocolate liquified around them.

I wondered if he felt me shiver. 

“Mmmm.  Really good.  What’s next?”

“Something nice.”  I broke off a piece of the fancy dark chocolate bar and held it between my teeth, then nudged it into his mouth with my tongue.  It turned to cocoa in the twirling dance of our soul kiss.

George groped me.  “Hey, you aren’t wearing a shirt.  That’s not fair, I want to see.”

I twisted away from his hands.  “Patience.  The best is yet to come.”  I had been planning to feed him the rice pudding with a spoon in tiny tantalizing bites, but his greediness—and that tent pole of a hard-on--inspired me to deliver the piece de resistance in a way that would make us both happy.  I pulled off the bra and painted a nipple with a dab of pudding, then straddled him, grinding my crotch against him and holding out my breast to his lips.  “Tell me what the secret ingredient is and you’ll get a reward.”

He was definitely doing his best to follow directions, though it took him quite a while to lick me clean.  “This tastes great.  Is there rum in it?”

“Very good.”

“I hope my reward is more where that came from.”

“Clever guess, birthday boy.”  This time I anointed both breasts with the cool, smooth dessert and fed him, enjoying his whimpers of pleasure as much as the delicious twinges that pulsed through my cunt with each tug of his lips.

“Amanda?” 

“Yeah?”

“If I’m really good, would you rub some pudding on your pussy for me?”

The pleading note in his voice excited me, but the idea left me cold.  “Yuck. There’d be hair in the pudding.  You don’t want to ruin it.”

He chewed his lip for a moment.  “I see your point.  Then would you let me blindfold you?  I feel bad having all the fun.”

“It’s your birthday, sweetie, you’re supposed to have fun.”

“I think it would be fun to blindfold you.”

He smiled so charmingly, I had to give in.

But when he took off the blindfold, his eyes had a steely glint that scared me a little.  Licking his lips, he ogled my breasts like a sailor who’d been at sea far too long without shore leave.  I crossed my arms over my chest.

George clucked his tongue.  “No need to be shy.  I like you bare and beautiful.”

I hugged myself tighter.

“Amanda, it’s my turn and you’re not listening.”

Slowly I dropped my arms to my sides.

“Now lie down on the rug next to the coffee table.”

“Yes, sir.”  He certainly was warming to the dom role in a hurry.  The first thing he did was leave the room.  That didn’t surprise me.  Kristin certainly took her time teasing me with the chocolate chips—anticipation made the game sweeter.  I half-hoped George would be naughty, too.  Make me blow a fat pickle for practice or something.  But if I knew him at all, he was loading up on tequila and rum to get his revenge.

I didn’t have a clue he’d come back and tie something around my wrists—a pair of my pantyhose.

"Hey, wait a minute.”

“Relax, Amanda.  I know you’re going to like this.”

He secured my hands to the coffee table and went away again.  I heard the faucet going on and off, the cabinet slamming and some strange, soft, clinking sounds.  Too late I realized what a mistake it was to hand over my power so quickly. This birthday celebration wasn’t going the way I’d planned it at all.

When he came back again, he got right to work pulling off my shorts and panties.

"What about foreplay?” I said, trying my best to sound cool and witty, like a grande dame at a cocktail party brandishing a cigarette holder, rather than a buck naked chick lying on an old shag rug, blindfolded and bound to a coffee table.

"This is foreplay, babe.   It’s time for my pie.” 

“I didn’t make any pie,” I said, confused.

“I meant a rice pudding and pussy pie.”

He began patting something cool and foamy between my legs.  It wasn’t rice pudding.

“What are you doing?” I tried to sit up, but the pantyhose pulled me back.

“Making a nice, tasty pie,” George replied.

“Liar.  You’re going to shave my twat, aren’t you?”

He let out a soft chuckle, like a charming villain in a movie. “Lie still and it won’t hurt.”

Under the circumstances, did I really have a choice?  I managed to stay fairly calm as he stroked the razor over my mound, then ordered me to open my legs.  “I don’t need to get you all bare,” he murmured.  “Just the top part, so I can rub pudding all over your clit.”

I moaned softly.  I’d never felt so exposed.  Even the bandana provided no cover.  The blindfold had turned into a movie screen shimmering with an obscene image of my body, legs spread, cunt lips bald as a monk’s tonsured pate.  I wondered if George could see the moisture dripping from me or if he just assumed it was part of his special little grooming treatment.

Broken Free by Nad Iksodas

“You look nice,” he said when he’d given me a final rinse and wipe.  “White and smooth on the outside, pink and juicy inside, like a little fruit pie.  Of course, I like my pie with topping.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but I jumped when his fingers began to spread the soft, creamy pudding over my crevice.  His touch was gentle, as if he were soothing hot, swollen flesh that had suffered mild shock--which described my private parts exactly.

He began lapping.  I began groaning.

“Mind if I have a second helping?”

“Georgie Porgie pudding and pie,” I murmured, with a touch of mutiny.

“Ah, but you’re not crying when I kiss you, Amanda.”  He laughed again.  “Besides, I have no plans to run away.  And you’ll be staying right where you are for a while, that I promise you.”

I heard the crinkle of candy wrapping.  Humming devilishly, George placed two small, cool objects on my chest, one above each breast.

“What are you doing now?” My voice sounded so helpless, which was annoying because it was supposed to be my game, wasn’t it?  The only problem was, George’s version was making me very hot.

“They say chocolate melts at body temperature,” George explained.  “I want to see if it’s true.  And if it melts and dribbles all over your tits, I can lick it off, right?”

“It might take a while though,” I said, although I already felt moisture rising on my chest beneath the chocolate.  I hoped it wouldn’t make a mess.

“Yeah, it might,” he replied.  “But I can wait.  Hey, I like this game a lot.  You know, Princess, there’s something else I want to try, but I won’t do it unless Your Royal Highness tells me she wants it.”

His tone was cool, almost mocking.  I could tell he was enjoying this, maybe too much, the sight of me, trussed and trembling, completely under his control.  He had become a stranger.  Why did the very thought of fucking that stranger send sweet, stabbing jolts through my secret places?

“What do you want to do?” I whispered.

“Guess,” he said, brushing his fingers over my lips.

Almost as if he’d fed it to me, I knew, or rather felt it, the stretch of my lips around his cock, the burning fullness of him against my tongue and palate.

“You want to dip your dick in the pudding and have me lick it off,” I said in a small voice.

"How clever to get it on the first try.  So what do you say to a little taste of pudding, Princess—yes or no?”

Slowly I nodded.

George made a faint sound, not a reply.  It was as if he suddenly remembered something.  Then came a rustle as he stood and walked out of the room again.

Strangely this time I wasn’t even scared.  I wasn’t even a naked woman tied to a coffee table, I was rising up, drifting back to that evening with Kristin, the summer air thick and moist against my skin.  My lips ached in anticipation.  I could do it.  I could guess all the kinds of chocolate right, and I could take George’s cock in my mouth and taste the maleness, sweat and cumin and salty pre-cum.  I don’t know how long he was gone.  Time melted into ribbons of warm chocolate swirling through my head, sugar and cream stirred round and round into something dizzily, achingly sweet.

I felt hands lift my head, then place it gently onto a thick pillow.

The tenderness of the gesture took me off guard.  Was the scheming stranger gone?

The head of a cock tapped my lips, an almost gallant little knock to get in.  I opened wide and George sighed as he sank into my mouth.  His cock felt bigger, harder, hotter than ever before, and a hungry growl rumbled in my throat.  He pushed deeper, but I didn’t gag.  I was back in control.  I could feel it.  I never felt more powerful than when I took George between my lips.

Sure enough, after just a few thrusts, he was in my power.  He was already babbling, asking me if I wanted him to come in my mouth now so his spunk would get all mixed up with the pudding, so I could drink down the kind of creamy, sweet cocktail I liked, but without the paper parasol.  I hummed approval—it was the only thing I could do--but then he seemed to change his mind.  He pulled out and mumbled in a hoarse voice, as if he were arguing with that stranger in himself, “No, I want to fuck you now.  That’s what I really want for my birthday, Mandy, to find out what it feels like to fuck your smooth, shaved pussy.”

I opened my legs for him and he slipped inside.  I pushed my hips up to meet him and suddenly everything was so sweet and familiar in spite of the sticky, candy-store strangeness of it all.  He nibbled the softened chocolate from my breasts, then sucked on my nipples just the way I liked.  I knew the bossy guy was gone for good when he propped himself up on one elbow to play with my clit the way he did when he wanted to be sure I came first.

Which I did, then he did, and he untied my hands and took off the blindfold. I was glad I could see his eyes again, so soft and grateful.

We fed each other the rest of the chocolate bars and the whole bag of gummi bears and the last of the pudding, taking turns, one spoonful at a time.  The whole feast cost me twelve bucks total. 

Even after all these years, I’d have to say we never felt so rich.

Originally published January 2009