Let Them Eat Cake From My Nipples

Don’t worry, not my nipples. Although I can tell you about this one time when I tried to introduce food to mine and an ex’s sex play. It did not go well. What were you expecting me to say? It’s me you’re talking to. I’m the guy who answers the door mid-masturbation, forgetting that my Little One is out and saluting the postman. You see, my time with food was a very love/hate relationship. I tried pouring whip cream over my girl’s light ebony breasts and stomach, licking it off, making her quiver and making me realise that the whip was past its use by date. Next, I decided to place on the sensations, all very pleasureable, that you get from introducing a very cold object to your hot skin.

Earlier, I had prepared some ice cubes that I decided to slide over her body. The first, which I held in my left hand, I ran down the saliva trail that I had left, running the cube over her nipples, sliding them round in little circles. She arched her back and gave off a low, throaty moan that, because we were newly come of age, she lived with her parents, and I covered her mouth with my lips. I tried to gag her with my member but, alas, I am not the Hulk. My manhood cannot be used to swing from tree to tree, Tarzan like, and being nestled between her thighs, feeling her pussy tremble and become so very hot – so hot I stayed there for a few minutse sunning myself – I decided to take another with my right hand and run it over her slit, as the one in my left wormed its way down her stomach to melt, slowly, sending shivers through her body.

She was wet. Oh good sweet pixie dust, she was wet. But, alas, she had always had a problem with not being wet enough, sometimes, and at those times it was like making love to sand-paper, and this was one of those times. I licked her nectar from her entrance as I placed the freezing cold cube on her lower lips. She jolted high off the bed, shocked by the feel, aroused by the new sensation. I smiled at this (this was a little while after my first time, and as such I still thought I was a sex god. This night robbed me of that notion) and kissed her sweet petals and moved the cube over her lips. Or attempted to. You see, I had made some very dry ice. The first had my saliva to glide over. The second, as I have pointed out, had nothing, not her juices, nor mine. It stuck fast. It stuck hard. I tugged at it, but instead of the moans of pleasure that I was accustomed to, I heard something every man dreads. No, not silence. ‘Ow’. ‘Oow’. ‘Ooooooooow!’. Not ‘Oh. Ooh. Oh sweet sallymungo, yes!’. Ow. My manhood sagged, hung its head in shame. The dry ice stuck to her lips. Not only that, but as I tried to let go, I discovered it had stuck fast to my fingers, too.

Not good.

What followed was a slow, desperate attempt to swing both out bodies round, carefully so as to not rip anything, so that my body hung off the bed, and I stretched every inch of my body, trying to catch the lead to the hair dryer with my toe. It was just out of reach until, inch by inch, the poor lass moved herself off, and at last I felt the plastic chord between my tootsies (toes), gripped, and yanked it to me with a triumphant ‘Aha!’ Which brought a knock on the door and enquiring words from her father.

‘Nothing!’ She squeeked back in her native Italian (Yes, I’ve slept with at least one woman from each country in the EU. It was on my bucket list) ‘Just playing a little game on my Xbox.’ The best sexual allegory I have heard in a long time.

I don’t know how he bought it, especially after the hair dryer started its moan, but he left us be. It took about ten minutes of her half off the bed and me sprawled at an odd angle on the floor, waving the hair dryer about, trying to urge it to melt faster, but, at last, it succumbed to the heat, leaving only slightly reddened marks on her lips and my fingers. As you can figure out, she wasn’t in the mood after that. But, after all that, I still have no idea how exactly I got a bite mark on my cock.

But, get this, it was not a normal bite mark. Instead of the arc of little indents that you’d expect from a human bite mark, I found two little red dots. It was, I guess with hope, a spider bite.

But enough about me. Today I write to you about Whichever’s (there’s some contention as to which month) Story of the Month! And this month it’s a very well written, erotic tale by Zena. Let Them Eat Cake tells the tale of Curvacious Woman #1’s birthday. Just imagine the delightful Dita Von Teese in a red dress. It starts off with Curvacious Woman #1 (otherwise known as Mari) being surrounded by her closest friends to celebrate her birthday (Of course, we don’t know how old she is. Even fictional women are protective of their age, it seems). Next, a hush descends upon them as Sam, think Tom Selleck with a goatee, delivers his speech, and her birthday present. It’s an old Dutch tradition to take some cake and the guest shares their cake with the birthday girl. But these friends choose to eat the cake off of her naked body. Of course. It is a Dutch tradition, after all.

Mari…marveled at its size

Oh, how many times I’ve heard that. In my dreams. Frequently.

One by one the guests put some icing on her neck, her ear, her chest and then, seductively, lick it off. Can’t have errant cake, now, can we? The strip her as the women join in, too. Licking, sucking, biting, her breasts, thighs, arse, and glistening pussy (nice to see that not every one has a flow problem). And where, you may ask, are they? In a restaurant, of course! Where else, silly? Ah, but it is a nudist bar, and the fifty other diners sit back and take in the show, as if it were a matinet.

Being the centre of attention, and having a lovely redhead lady tend to her slit quickly drives her over the edge and she cums hard, screaming her pleasure, pleading to be taken.

“Let go, Little One, let go.” Sam said.

That’ll do, Pig. That’ll do.

And Sam. salt and pepper goatee and all, does. He takes her, and soon, all too soon her body shudders with pleasure, and again, as Faceless Man #3 sticks his fingers up her tight derrier, making them dance inside her as if they were a stick figures legs.

“All you had to do was ask, Little One.”

Yes, Sensee. Wax on. Wax off. Wax on your dick, Wax you off.

“That’s it Little One, cum for me again, I’m gonna fill you up right now.”

Yep. Oi’ll fill ‘er up real good. Hey Ma, get the oil can! She needs more gas!

Don’t mistake my mocking, my kinky readers, for degredation. I enjoyed myself thoroughly-I mean I enjoyed the story thoroughly. It deserves its title as Story of the Month, just as it deserves this blog dedicated to it (even though I do this every month), and it definitely deserves a read. Just as you deserve to sit back and get your rocks off while enjoying one hell of a story. So, what are you waiting for!?

Take care, my kinky readers, and happy masturbation!

Because sad masturbation puts you off your food.