5 comments/ 27176 views/ 3 favorites Valentine's Dinner for Two By: sirhugs (Inspired by an idea from, and dedicated to the memory of adetaildiva) * She looked at him in disbelief. "I was born at night, but it wasn't last night!" "But, it's such a dark and stormy night..." "Nonsense," she interrupted, "and save the blather about hibernation. You might fool others with that faux cynicism but I know that at heart you are still a romantic, and even a wounded romantic deserves, nay, needs, a Valentine's Day dinner by candlelight." "Well, the candles might help if the power goes out..." This time she cut off his complaint by grabbing his arm and dragging him in from the doorway. As the pathway of escape closed behind him, he noticed that she had set up a cozy table for two, complete with the promised candlelight, in front of her fireplace. She handed him a glass of bubbly and steered him into a seat. "The light makes those earrings sparkle," he croaked, his voice betraying how like the frog he felt, with her of course, a princess. She smiled warmly, though perhaps, he thought, that was the heat of the fire making him squirm. "Happy Valentine's Day," she said, clinking glasses. The conversation paused as they toasted the occasion. The appetizers were already on the table. "Scallops in champagne, garnished in cinnamon hearts," she explained. As he carefully carved the edge of his fork through the warm flesh, he felt her knee press against his leg under the table. He realized that she had arranged it so that he had no room to back away. Accepting his captivity, he decided that even a prisoner deserved a good meal, though hopefully this was not his final meal. "I hope you aren't planning to eat me all up for dessert," he heard himself blurt out, not meaning to say it aloud. She laughed daintily, covering her mouth with a ladylike gloved hand. "Not unless you are an especially naughty guest. Otherwise, I have planned a chocolate mousse tart. I should warn you though, if you are only slightly naughty, I might strip you, dress you in an apron and spank you while you do the dishes." This time, her laughter was unrestrained, her throat bared as she tipped backwards in glee. He swallowed his seafood unchewed and tasted. As her laughter subsided, she stood and reached across to clear his plate, innocently offering him a full view of her well engineered cleavage tightly erected in her slinky red dress. She grinned as she saw his eyes glued to her creamy mounds. "Oh, silly me, I better not mess these gloves." She straightened, leaving his plate in front of him for the moment. Slowly, she eased the above the elbow lace down her left arm, turning delicately as she did so, offering a brief tantalizing appreciation of the thigh high slit in her dress. Then she grasped the fabric at the tip of her longest finger as it loosened. She briskly tugged the glove loose, allowing the open end to toy with his nose, before dropping it almost casually on the table. As she did so, she turned slowly, gracefully, allowing her hip to jut towards him, presenting herself casually but unmistakably like the animals do. The slightest bend of her waist as she raised her right arm high and removed that glove even more theatrically emphasized her intentions. Her ass wriggled inside the tight fabric of the skirt in counterpoint to the motion of her elbow and wrist. She giggled girlishly as she casually flipped the glove over her shoulder, expertly flopping it into his startled face before it landed in his lap. "Your face is as red as my dress," she observed as she turned and stepped close again, allowing him to inhale her perfume as she lifted away the plates. "Just don't soil that glove with that thing that's bulging in your pants." Her giggling trailed in the air between them as she vanished into the kitchen. He lifted the glove from his lap and found himself staring at it, as if he was a cave man discovering a cell phone. He did notice however that she had guessed correctly -- his cock was chubby in his trousers, excited by her seductiveness. Just as she returned, he placed the glove carefully by her place setting. She carried two salad plates. "Our next course is hearts of palm grilled lightly with red onion on a bed of romaine." "Onion..." he blurted, making her laugh again as she served and settled in her seat. "Oh, no fear, we have sorbet next to keep our breath kissably sweet." He filled his smile with a mouthful of salad. For a few minutes, they ate, the air filled with the scent of crackling birch and the sweet candles. As he chewed, he was drawn to watching her. She was so delicate, so innocent looking, so at odds with the seductress she was portraying. His shaft lurched upwards in his pants as he thought about her breasts, her thighs, her rear. She dabbed a corner of her mouth with the red cotton napkin and then smiled up at him. Her ruby red lipstick glowed with traces of cooking oils, until her tongue flicked out, wiping her mouth clean so quickly that he was not sure it really had happened. This time, she stood and walked around to his side before lifting his plate. Her hip grazed his shoulder, making him turn his head instinctively, just as her breast brushed his cheek. This caused her nipple to tease his lips, vanishing as quickly as it touched. He realized that whatever bra elevated her cleavage was not padded and was most likely lace. She walked carefully to the kitchen, crossing each foot in front of the other like a runway model. He admired how this made her ass twitch, and wondered where her panty line had vanished to. Reaching down, he adjusted the weighty meat in his lap, shifting himself to a more comfortable position. He was still wriggling when she returned. She giggled as she watched. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but you are supposed to do that as you walk, not in your chair. No one can watch your ass while you are seated." She placed the sorbet in front of him. "Cinnamon chocolate," she announced as she sat, her gaze never leaving his face. He watched her tongue twist as it eased the frozen treat from the spoon, then disappear into her mouth. She smiled again. "Not that anybody would be watching your ass.... Ooops. That sounds worse than I meant. It's not that you have a bad ass, just that you have so much more to offer a gal in the front of your body." He felt her toes travel up his leg, easing his pant leg upwards. The silky stockings rubbed up, stopping just below his knee. He sat breathlessly as her foot descended even more slowly along the inner edge of his muscled calf. Just as quickly as it happened, her foot vanished again, leaving him wondering whether he had imagined it all. She sipped more champagne as if nothing was happening. In the silence, the storm crashed against the windows. He wondered about the drive home, and decided to watch how much he drank. It was as if she could read his mind. "Such a storm," she said." I don't think you should be driving anywhere tonight." She refilled his champagne flute as she stood to clear the plates. This time, she stood directly behind him and reached over his shoulder to lift his dish, carefully balancing the sorbet cup on the saucer. Her cleavage surged around his ears, the sound of her heart resounding through their anatomy. Just before she vanished again, she bent down on his left side and darted her tongue into his ear. It was so sudden, again he wondered if he was imagining things. Regardless, as she walked to the kitchen, he once more enjoyed the rear view, still speculating about her lingerie. He was sorely aware that his cockhead had fished its way out of the fly front of his boxers, and was rubbing roughly against the metal zipper of his pants. She re-entered just as he was adjusting himself, which provoked another fit of giggles, though throughout she held the plates high. "Don't go off half cocked there. The evening is still young." He felt warmth not just from the fire as he blushed. He quickly lifted his hand to the top of the table, like a youngster caught playing with himself by his mother. "Oh, red cheeks for Valentine's Day, how special." She placed the plates on the table, bending low to kiss his cheek. The back of her hand brushed over his lap, caressing his hardness through the fabric quickly, casually. "Shrimp with penne in a fennel cream sauce." she announced. "Nice and light. I had considered beef, but that's so heavy, and would have demanded a nice cabernet. This way, we can stay with the champagne." She refilled their flutes, and paused to sip before eating. During this interval, he felt her foot again creeping up his leg, the right one this time, but not pausing to lift the fabric. By the time he had speared a shrimp on his fork; her toes were tickling his inner thigh. Reflexively, he shifted, opening his legs wider. "Nice garnish," he croaked as she tickled his balls through his pants. "Red beets?" "That's right, deliciously edible, just like..." "...you..." they both said simultaneously. He blushed, shocked again that he had blurted out his thoughts. She simply giggled, sipped his champagne and ran the bottom of her stocking clad foot all the way up his trapped shaft. "I like how you think," she finally said. "Isn't this more fun than hibernating?" "As long as I don't end up like that poor fellow over there." He gestured towards the bear rug covering the hearth. She laughed. "Actually, that was the penalty that he paid for hibernating. Much easier to sneak up on him that way." Somehow in spite of the banter and the foot groping his groin, he had consumed the main course. "Somehow, sneaky doesn't seem your style, at least not tonight." "That only works if the bear is sleeping. For a hungry animal, I use livelier bait." "Lovely bait," he blurted. To cover up, he quickly gulped champagne -- too quickly, causing him to choke it back up. She reached across and tenderly wiped his chin, not allowing him time to be embarrassed. One red polished finger tip drifted across his lower lip. His mouth opened without his thinking about it. Her finger slid past his teeth, allowing his tongue to taste her flesh. Just as swiftly, it darted away. As he recomposed himself, he realized that she had risen out of her chair to reach him, and her full bosom was displayed before his eyes, pendulous breasts displayed in a red lace underwire halter, the cups cut low so that he could tell that she had rouged her nipples in the style of some old time burlesque starlet. A heart shaped pendant of some rose coloured stone dangled between her mounds, spinning like a hypnotist's pendulum. He was certainly in a trance. "Like the view?" she laughed, straightening up and lifting away the plates. "Shall we take dessert on that rug, right in front of the fire?" she suggested as she slinked into the kitchen. He distracted himself from his erection threatening to rip through his zipper by wondering how she slid her feet so easily in and out of her stiletto heels. "Won't that be messy?" he croaked, still feeling amphibious in the land of enchanted palaces. "Oh, I sure hope so," she laughed over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen. "But, just in case, can you come in here and help me for a second?" He stood, awkwardly wondering whether he ought to try to hide his erection, but deciding that they were well past that point. "Do you want me to carry my own plate?" he asked as he entered the tiny pantry. The wind was rattling the ancient window panes, curls of snow driven into the corners of the outside frame. A dark and stormy night indeed. "No, I want you to help me with this," she said. Her back was to him. She was bent slightly at the waist, her heart shaped ass thrust towards him. Her hands were both behind her neck, apparently fiddling with some sort of clasp that held her dress together in the back. He froze, uncertain what to do. She turned half around. "Well, I can't be ruining my dress if we make a mess, can I?" As she spoke, her fingers finally accomplished their task -- instinct triumphing where conscious effort failed. The top of the dress fell forward, loose, to her waist. Her hands were still behind her head, which pulled her shoulders back. This thrust her chest forward, fine ripe melons slung in lace reaching towards him, begging to be squeezed. His hands instinctively rose up and out towards her, but his feet remained frozen as if in ice. Even in the tiny kitchen, she still was beyond his grasp. She lowered her arms, caressing herself casually, not pausing, simply allowing her hands to graze along her curves and across her gently rounded tummy as if to say "this is the most natural moment in this enchanted kingdom -- a half naked princess offering shelter to a hapless frog on a dark and stormy night, hoping he might turn out to be her prince." The natural continuation of her self caressing was that her fingers captured the waist of her dress. It took only the slightest nudge for the sheer fabric to fall flat to the floor. She shifted her feet just a smidge, the better to display the curve of her hips, the toned legs meeting in a well trimmed bushy juncture. The riddle of the missing panty lines was solved -- her stockings hung from a red garter belt, but her bush was bare. The blonde matched her hair. He stood speechless, drinking in her beauty. Her hands rested on her hips for a moment and then she reached up and loosened her hair, allowing it to cascade freely to her shoulders. "Time to share dessert," she breathed, her voice almost lost in the wind rattling the window. "Here?" he croaked, his voice dim as well. He finally thawed enough to step forward, and at last, the frog kissed the princess. Their lips brushed, but his force drove her back against the counter, her balance compromised by the high heels. As she thrust her arms back for support, she tilted her head back. His lips glanced off of hers, brushed along her chin, but then he improvised smoothly, more princely than frog-like, trailing a flattened tongue slowly down her curved neck. She ran her fingers through his hair, steering his head lower, seeming to want him to feast on her breasts, but he resisted, planting a line of kisses along her collarbone out to the point of her shoulder instead. "Oh, there..." she moaned, her fingers ripping at his scalp as he nibbled the flesh where it rounded down towards her arm. Something about how the nerves stretched across that tight curve made it especially sensitive, yet no other man had spent so much time just exploring how much it pleased her. As passion warmed her flesh, she felt his hardness rubbing against her belly. Her hips responded without conscious command, humping away from the cupboard, meeting his thrusts. Her mind was still alert enough that she thought how if he was not still clothed, they could be fucking already. Perhaps, like the rugged hero of a dime store romance, he would lift her onto the countertop and ravish her as the washing up clattered to the linoleum, her arms thrashing, her head spinning... but that was just a dream. In reality, he licked down her left arm to the inside of her elbow. This sent ripples of electricity through her body, her nipples tingling, her knees buckling; her labia blooming as her juices seeped out, starting to dampen her thighs. Shifting positions created a space between their bodies, and the contact from his cock was less constant, the tip bobbing against her intermittently as they moved. She barely noticed however, as he held her arm at the wrist, gently rotating it to his lips. The back of his other hand casually brushed against the side of her left breast. Even through the bra, this sent further bolts of electricity surging to the tip, from whence they spread throughout her body as heat. Once the warmth flooded her groin, it leapt out her labia, drawing wetness to the surface as if her womb was a deep full well. "If I was wearing panties they'd be drenched," she moaned. "Good thing you aren't then," he said, pausing his oral attentions as he spoke. She felt his arms slide down her flanks, the hair caressing her flesh gently, keeping the tingles flowing in waves. She shivered as she strong hands cupped her rear, each glute grasped firmly in a palm, his fingers spreading wide, lifting, and spreading her cheeks, fingertips pulling her crevice open. His head moved across her body, his tongue now exploring the soft white flesh pushed up by the bra, as if trying to define just where her boobs began. Kneading his hair roughly with her fingers as she moaned, she forced his mouth lower, enjoying his whiskers rubbing on the tops of her curvy mounds. He stabbed his tongue out, just once, as if probing, striking the spot exactly in the middle of her chest where the valleys met. Their pelvises rocked together as she pushed out from the cabinet, and his heaving repeatedly bumped her back. 'If he lifted an inch, he'd shove me on the countertop and fuck me right here,' she thought. He was too busy licking the heaving curves of her bosom to speak, or even to think. He was operating on automatic pilot; animal instincts revived that survived from Neanderthal ancestors. His tongue explored the flesh that bulged below her left shoulder and then he licked downwards, tracing the arc as low as the bra allowed. He paused there, his tongue curling into a tube, rotating in that junction, stimulating her breasts both from the inner edges. His hands slid up her flanks, rubbing the soft firm flesh of her well honed body, not stopping until he cupped both of breasts in his palms. Before tonguing her right breast, he lifted his head, looked her in the eye, smiled boyishly. "Nice tits," he grinned. She found this hilarious, tossing her head back in laughter, which lifted her chest so that his fingers found themselves grasping her rock hard nipples through the lacy bra. He gently grazed his thumbnail across the tips, just hard enough not to tickle. She felt the ooze of her juices becoming a flood, knowing that her wetness was coating her thighs. He lifted his head and placed one hand under her chin. Their lips met and melded as tongues twisted, probing past teeth, tasting each other's hunger, warm breath and saliva flowing together, passion so intense that flesh was puffing, bruising. Her hands pulled his ass closer, so that his cock was dry humping her as fiercely as they kissed. His palms slid out along her collarbone, until he grasped her shoulders, using them as handholds, pulling her into him. This continued forever, or until they had to come up for air. As with the near fucking, they moved in unison, so that it would be impossible to say who broke contact. As they eased their heads back just a half inch each, they pressed together more tightly, as if each was desperate to fully engage. Her nipples were so hard that they drilled into his chest in spite of the fabric between them. "If your zipper burst, we would have been fucking right then and there," she gasped, and then she giggled. "Would that be a bad thing?" he replied. She leaned back and pushed her elbows down on the counter, hoisting herself up. She scissored her ankles behind his butt and held him tight to her groin. "I like how you think, but how about dessert?" "Well, you look good enough to eat." She blushed as red as he had earlier, but he could see her nipples rising even larger, her chest swelling with excitement, and he felt a fresh flow of her juices drenching his pants where they still were pressed tightly together. Instinctively, his hips rotated, grinding his hardness against her aroused flesh. "Even if you fucked me first?" "I love a shot of cream on my pie." His weapon throbbed excitedly against her as he spoke, confirming his passion. She suddenly realized that without consciously thinking about it, her elbows had begun rocking her body into his, thumping and humping, slowly at first, but more quickly as his hips responding in kind. Her legs flexed, drawing him tighter and then allowing him to ease back but never losing contact. Valentine's Dinner for Two "Undo my bra," she moaned, lifting up towards him. He obeyed, reaching behind her. She was pleased that he did not fumble at all with the hooks, and even happier to be free of the constricting device. His feelings were apparent, as he immediately flipped the garment behind him. He paused for just a moment to admire how her tits stood upright on her chest. "Just like a teenager," he thought out loud. "But experienced enough to know what I want," she growled in response. She again grabbed his head by the hair and drew him down, burying his face in her cleavage. This time, he was submerged in the middle, a heaving boob rubbing up against each ear as his tongue explored the exact midpoint. Her legs and elbows continued rocking their pelvises together. His hands slid up her back, finding a fresh grip on her shoulders, driving them together harder and faster. To ease the ache of her nipples, she awkwardly shifted so that her fingertips tweaked her own peaks. Tingly preorgasmic waves surged to her pussy. 'Ohmigawd, I hope he doesn't come in his pants, that would be so embarrassing,' she thought as she gasped for air, 'not to mention how it would get in the way of a really good hard fuck, which I am going to need desperately, and soon.' She pulled his head up out of her chest so quickly that his tongue was flicking into the air like a salamander. He struggled against her control just enough to give her a quick whisker burn on the inner slopes of each tit, and bobble each nipple quickly on the tip of his tongue. After that, the force of her arms dragged his nose even with hers. He playfully rubbed noses, making her giggle. "Dessert," she commanded, but her sense of control was precarious, as his lips met hers, and then his tongue was fucking her mouth. She tried to break her mouth free but he slid a hand along her chin, keeping her in place. She knew that no amount of ice would prevent her lips from swelling now, so she surrendered in the moment, raising her head up ferociously, teeth clicking against each other. She felt his free hand travel from her shoulder to her chest. He mauled her tit roughly, squeezing and kneading the flesh, and then rolled the nipple tightly between two fingers. She sensed what was coming next, but her mouth was too full of tongue to allow a scream before he straightened his body upright, allowing space and leverage to pull her nub away from the mound of flesh, stretching the rubbery bit at least double its usual length. He finished the treat by giving it a brisk twist around. "Ohhhhh...fuuuuck," she finally screamed as his straightening pulled his head from hers. Her hips thumped up and down on the countertop as her climax flooded them with her ambrosia. She lay there for a moment panting, admiring his goofy grin, impressed with his boyish eagerness to please. Though she realized that his attitude could shift quickly, that she could never make the mistake of thinking she was completely in control. 'Perhaps," she heard herself say to herself, 'that's what true love is -- not being afraid to surrender control, because you know it's a gift you will get back.' What she said out loud was, "I know you would rather eat me, but the mousse is going to melt." Humour was a simple mask to deflect her attention away from the depth of her own emotions. She could feel that he was harder than ever. An erect cock though was just evidence of lust, not of love. She thought quickly about games she could play to test him, but discarded that whole notion for the time being, wanting a good fucking more than she cared about whether it meant more. "Do you think I need the aphrodisiac effect of the chocolate?" he said, stepping back, since her leg lock behind his ass had relaxed in her afterglow. His hands were still casually caressing her, roaming her upper body in random curves, occasionally pushing her nipples from odd angles. She wondered if he knew what this was doing to her, the combination of aftershocks and the greater building up of desire, ready to burst if he did not fuck her soon. She understood his passion to eat pussy, but tonight, she was hungry for meat. Not meat to eat either, so sixty-nine was not his lucky number, at least not just yet. She needed his hard fat love rocket stuffed inside of her like she was the Thanksgiving turkey. She longed for that throbbing sensation as his shaft pushed out against the walls of her pussy; the involuntary reaction of her muscles clamping tightly around the base, trying to fight the in and out; and especially the spasming mushroom shaped head blasting great gobs of goo deep within. None of this was available from her own fingers, dildos or vibrators. Sometimes only real meat would do. Just thinking about the special sensations started another orgasm rocking up from her toes this time, heating her entire body as her pussy gushed. He sniffed at the air, savouring the scent. "You look like a wolf when you do that," she giggled. "This wolf is going to eat you," he growled. "Not here," she replied, sliding off the counter before he could lower his head to her vulva. "Chocolate mousse, remember." Gravity pulled her down right into his body, causing her wet loins to rub swiftly against the tented fabric of his trousers. The friction added zing to the aftershocks surging through her body. The feel of his shirt again against her rock hard nipples added to her pleasure. "Feels like this has been good for you," he said, feeling her wetness drenching him right through the fabric. "Shut up and kiss me," she replied, placing her right hand behind his neck and drawing his head down so that their lips met. She opened her mouth just as his tongue clicked against her teeth, nipping playfully at that sensitive organ. "Ouch," he groaned, pulling back. "I hope you don't do that to my cock." "Will if I wanna," she chuckled, "and who says I'm going to kiss your cock? I just wanted to cool your jets so you don't come in your pants before I serve dessert." "Well, wolves bite too, and I've still got you where I want you," he said, bumping her back against the edge of the counter, his hardness urgent against her abdomen. He swiftly dipped his upper body and bit down on the soft skin of her shoulder. "Oops," he said as she moaned, 'I guess you'll need to avoid sleeveless for a few days." She retaliated by slapping his ass, hard enough that he pushed forward, grinding fabric harder against flesh. "You're bad," she giggled. "Don't ever forget it." They seemed to both realize just then that he was holding her by both wrists, and with her pinned against the cabinets, he was in total control. Of course, in order to fuck her, his pants needed to be unzipped, which would mean giving up control. He looked left. He looked right. Her eyes followed. "Mousse?" the both said together, and then they both replied "Truce?" She rose up on tiptoes, leaning her pelvis back, drawing in her breath to create about enough space to pass a sheet of paper through between them. She playfully kissed the tip of his nose before lowering herself back to the floor. This relaxed him momentarily, so she quickly spun in his weakened grasp. Her ass bummed his groin, grinding briefly into his erection. He pulled her tight, enjoying the friction. Again, though, this was a distraction. "Be careful, remember, we don't want you to waste that cream," she laughed, spreading his arms wide, straightening, and then pulling his hands down and inward. This forced him to stagger back to keep his balance, and resulted in him releasing her. She grabbed the two dishes of dessert off the counter and slid past his outstretched arms, ducking and then twitched her ass as she walked out of the kitchen. "Nice ass," he muttered. "Come and get it," she called over her shoulder as she walked to the bearskin hearth rug and settled onto her knees. He could not help noticing how gorgeous her naked ass was, jutting in the air towards him, perfectly framed by the frilly garter belt tight around her trim waist, the vertical run of the lycra lacy garters drawing the eyes down to where the rose pattern at the top of each stocking encircled the thigh, stopping his gazing with the roundness centered in his view. She seemed to hold that position just for a few extra heart beats, turning and watching him watch her, still balancing the two dessert dishes. She smiled, the flames from the fireplace creating a glow on her flesh, as she settled into a squat, two thirds turned from him, the desserts carefully placed on either side of the rug. Her modest firm tits jiggled as she moved, and when her body came to rest, he was at a perfect angle to notice how her nipples bounced upwards one extra time before settling, motionless, but perky, angled invitingly upwards, as if begging to be sucked. The side view also caused him to pause momentarily as he stepped through the doorway, amazed by the engineering of how muscles under the arm form together to support the weight of the breast, moving with each breath. He also noticed that she obviously enjoyed him watching, because her nipples were swelling even larger. Though the nipples were already stiff, the areolae were now puffier than earlier, standing out from the weight of each tit. She smiled up at him. "Dessert?" she asked again, this time in a lower, seductive voice, implying but not speaking that she was part of the menu. "I still have all my clothes on," he muttered, looking down at himself. "Well, take them off, then. I want you to be comfy." Buttons popped as he tried to walk and strip at the same time. She carefully controlled her breathing, holding air deep in her belly so as not to ruin his mood by laughing. Somehow, his awkwardness was a huge turn on for her, maybe as much as the size of the erection straining against his pants. As he fumbled with his belt, she decided that seeing him excited and clumsy was a perfect combination, especially knowing that, as he had demonstrated in the kitchen, once he got over to her, he would perform with passion and dexterity. His shadow loomed over her as he stopped by the rug and finally unzipped his pants. She giggled at the oddity of how a cock wants to be free, yet its very urgency makes undoing the pants so difficult. Her nipples tingled in anticipation and despite the heat of the fire; a shiver ran through her body. He stood still above her, and she realized what he was waiting for. She was grateful for her years of ballet training which allowed her to rise up smoothly and gracefully balance as she reached up and unfastened the button at his waist. The weight of his cock did the rest of the work, pushing trough the zipper, forcing his pants open, and then they puddled around his ankles. "Is that for me?" she chuckled as the mushroom head poked out of his underwear. He resumed control over his body sufficiently to nudge his briefs down, allowing his equipment to dangle in full view inches from her angelic face. She giggled again as the tenseness of his abs made his cockhead bob up and down as if nodding that, yes, it was hers. "It looks friendly enough," she said. Still not touching him, she rose slowly, closing the gap between her face and his groin. She was close enough to feel the heat of his loins warming her face as much as the fireplace behind her was warming her back. Again, she was aware that her excitement was building, dampness seeping further down her legs, drenching her almost to her knees. Almost anything could trigger another climax when she was this aroused. It required all of her remaining willpower not to caress her own nipple, because if she did that, she knew that her next move would be to lean back on the rug and slide a finger along her cunt, and that would lead to her finger fucking herself until her entire fist was buried in her womb or her orgasm came. Although he might enjoy that show, and fuck her afterwards, it would be selfish, and she wanted hard cock, now. All thoughts of melting mousse were forgotten as she reached upward and touched his manhood. "Looks tasty," she slurred, suddenly drunk with hormones. She wrapped her delicate fingers around the throbbing rod and gave it one long slow stroke from root to rim. The slit in the tip gaped open and shut in time with his heartbeats. "It's winking at me," she giggled. A drop of precum oozed out, glistening in the firelight. Her tongue flicked out, capturing the pearly droplet just before it fell. This time, it was his body shaking with electricity, flowing from his cock up his torso to his fingertips, and down to his toes. He tilted forward, driving the helmet past her lips, bumping against her teeth before she could open wide even to accommodate his girth. His momentum slid his entire length into her throat as she dropped her jaw and relaxed her ligaments, enjoying the fullness. She cupped her hands around his butt, holding him in place, closing her lips to seal around the base and sucking until the inside of both cheeks caressed his flesh. One hand followed the curve of his ass, teasing his dark valley, but not stopping until she held the weight of his balls in her palm. She squeezed gently, but could tell that if she kneaded them more, they would unload, shooting great gobs of goo down her throat. "I want you to come inside my cunt before you come in my mouth," she panted as she sat back and spit him out. "What about the chocolate?" he asked. "What about..." she began to ask, but stopped, breaking into a grin. She held his cock in one hand as she reached with the other and dipped her fingers into one of the dishes. They emerged coated in chocolate, which she dropped on the top of his cockhead. Like a little kid finger-painting, she spread the mess around the mushroom, down the underside of his shaft, coated his balls, and spiralled back up to the tip. "I hope you are intending to clean up that mess." "Of course," she laughed, but before she began, she released her grip on her cock and rocked backwards. With amazing grace, she scoped two handfuls out of the dessert dishes as she fell back onto the bearskin rug. Her hands flashed up to cover her tits as she came to rest, her head propped up on the dead beast's snout. "Your eyes look like they are ready to pop out of your head," she teased as she revealed that each nipple was crowned with a gob of chocolate mousse. His only reply was his tongue flicking across his lower lip, his jaw still slack. His cock was polite enough to bob up and down as if saying hello, finally coming to rest even more upright than earlier. Her hands immediately ran down her stomach, leaving a smear of brown goodness, reuniting at her vulva, which she circled, and then her hands came to rest on her thighs. She drew her ankles inward as she shifted her hands to her knees, spreading them apart slowly as they rose upwards. "Your dessert is ready...what are you waiting for?" she taunted. He remained speechless for a moment, answering by casting his eyes down not at the messy treats of her taut flesh but rather at his own chocolate covered appendage. He added an exclamation point by waving his palm just beside his helmet. Then he found his voice. "What about this?" She pouted theatrically, as if upset that he hadn't just dived into her offering, but she was not that good an actress, and her giggles quickly bubbled back up. "Well, I just assumed that we would both eat our dessert at the same time," she said. He closed the gap in a single step and dropped to his knees on the edge of the rug. Her upraised legs threatened to box his ears. He was too busy drooling over the beautiful treat that she was offering to notice, or move for that matter. "You need to get your head down there, but your cock over here," she coached. To move matters along, she dropped one knee and placed a hand just above his waist, and then ran her palm down the back of his leg. He automatically shifted his stance, allowing her to grab a good grip and steer his leg over hers. An awkward horizontal ballet followed, provoking much muttering from him and more giggling from her but finally, his cock brushed her chin and his breath was bathing her thighs. Her tongue again flicked across his tip, but he still was not done talking. "But this way, how do I clean your nipples?" he asked. If his head was facing her, he would have seen the rolling eyes that matched her sigh. At least the warmth made his rod waggle appreciatively, returning the smile to her face. She took a quick taste of chocolate mousse off his glans before replying. "You can lick them later. It'll be good to get you excited for round two." She ran her tongue across her teeth, liked the taste, and nibbled a bit more. "Round two?" he croaked. "That's where you get hard after you come in my cunt, and I suck you, except the second time, I let you come in my mouth, while you eat my creamy cunt." "Is there a round three?" he asked. "Why, afraid you aren't up for it? Round three might be when we cuddle, just kissing and swapping mouthfuls, how better to fully share. But we'll never find out if we don't get to round one soon, and we still are stuck at the foreplay." With that, she grabbed a hunk of his hair and shoved his face deep into her valley, swallowing his entire length while she was at it. Luckily, his instinct was to open his mouth -- or maybe he was just about to waste more time talking- so his tongue quickly found her love button, which was as erect as a small cock, upright, an island of flesh in a pool of juices washing over the banks of her labia. He did not stop there. Unlike the guys who think 'a little teeth, a little tongue, the work is done', he took his time. She would never know how long he worked. For the first time in her life she truly knew what 'time stood still' meant. After drawing her clit between his lips, he closed his mouth around it and drew it deep onto his tongue. Only then did his teeth tease the flesh, at the very bottom. His fingers spreading her cunt lips further apart, and then pistoning into her added to her pleasure. The trapped nubbin bobbled inside his cheek while he maintained suction around the base. As he drew back, stretching her flesh, his tongue began rotating, corkscrewing her love button while pumping it deeper and then relaxing just a bit. She felt his lips open a tad as he slurped her juices into his mouth, her essence washing around her clit just like she was jilling off, but this time, with the added thrill of a whirlpool effect. She was so busy trying not to scream just yet that she barely noticed when he carefully snuck a finger beneath her heaving hips, easing into the dark valley of her ass. If her mouth had not been full of cock, she have would bitten down on her lip as he pierced her anal ring and waggled that digit. "Ouch," he said, breaking the spell as she suddenly realized that she had clamped her teeth into his flesh. "I suppose that's one way to make sure I don't come in your mouth before we fuck." She slapped him playfully and then again took his head by the hair and pushed him into her waiting pussy. This time, he did not draw her fully into his mouth. Instead, he bobbled the clit from side to side, alternating with long slow vertical lapping up and then down the length of her gash. She did not notice at exactly what point he replaced the finger in her ass with a thumb, but she loved the fullness. Her breath bathed his cock in ragged bursts as he paused to give her time to resist, or to accept his thrust. When she began to rock her hips, thrusting against his hand, he pumped inwards, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt her, but she would having none of that. She shoved her ass aggressively against the thumb which was impaling her. Valentine's Dinner for Two "You aren't going to last long," she spoke, pausing and gasping for air. She had felt the telltale throbbing of his shaft, the tautness of his balls, and his precum had switched from drips to a steady dribble. This added to her pleasure, and she made a mental note that next time, she would try to get him to pee in her mouth, since she was enjoying this fluid so much. He returned his tongue to her clit, bouncing it up and down in time with his thumbing of her ass. He then added two fingers between the glistening folds of her pussy. She jerked against him each time his tongue flicked her clit. As he plunged his thumb over and over into her tight ass, furiously fist fucking her cunt, his lips and teeth circling around and over her slippery nub. She sucked him slowly, keeping his shaft fully hard, searching for any last bits of chocolate mousse that remained, delaying his orgasm. Her hands began roaming her chest, and then she tugged on her own nipples, hard. Her mouth was too full to allow her to scream, so her hips spoke for her. The pent up excitement burst forward in waves, her second climax of the night rolling through her as she tried to concentrate on spiralling her tongue around to lick his clean cock, making sure he was ready for the main event. "Fuck me now," she commanded as he felt the heat of the fire swirling around his cock, which was now free in the air. He did not speak, instead just pivoting with more grace than either could have expected. With one swift plunge, he impaled her sodden cunt. "Oh, God," she cried out as the mushroom shaped helmet pushed inside her. Her wetness bathed his shaft, as the swollen head led his member deep inside, past her tight opening, before her pussy walls clenched around the shaft. He grabbed her shoulders, using them for pushing against her as she slid along the bearskin rug, fucking him with abandon. "That's it, you fuck me too," he growled, and then bobbed his head down to bite down on a nipple without warning. She thrashed from side to side and groaned as his teeth clamped down on her sensitive nipple. Rolling waves of electricity pulsed through her as his tongue flicked her nub while still his teeth held the base firm, making it wobble and stretch all at once. Her body shot with pleasure as his cock buried itself deep inside her womb, each stroke harder, and each time, her hips raising higher, her muscles milking him more ferociously. "I'm not going to last long," he grunted, lifting his head just long enough to shift to the other nipple. She chuckled, "I bet, after all that build up. My plan worked perfectly. Now fill me up, and then you can eat your cream pie for dessert." He continued ramming his weapon deep inside her pulsating cunt, trying to ignore the tautness of his scrotum, thinking of everything but the explosion that would soon occur. She could feel him bumping against her cervix, but most of her attention was focussed on the waves of pleasure shooting from her nipples to her clit. Although his love muscle was bumping her nub with each stoke, she slipped her hand between their bodies and started touching herself, rushing to climax with him. She quickly realized that grasping his balls with her other hand would increase that likelihood, so she slid her fingers around his ass, eliciting moans of pleasure as her fingernails scraped his flesh. Her hips were thrashing wildly, restrained only by the friction of the bearskin rug. This added a fresh, rolling direction into their motion. She locked her ankles behind his knees to keep him fully inside, so that his thrusting was restricted to deep and deeper. Finally, she flicked a single finger inside the unprobed depth of his anus. The instant her nail stroked his prostate, he exploded with great gobs of goo. As he shot spurts of hot cum, bathing her juice coated walls with his milky liquid. Their cries filled the van as they came together, their bodies still wildly fucking each other as release crashed through them. "Shall I eat you now for dessert?" he asked as soon as he caught his breath, but the only response was gentle purring as she slept. He quickly joined her in dreamland, fuelled by visions of finishing or continuing in the morning. Daylight however would see an end to the storm, and how without that magic of the dark and stormy Valentine's night, what would become of them?