Chocolate

It’s my birthday. 5:35pm on a Friday, July 2nd (don’t forget!), and I’m on my way home. I’ve just pushed out ahead of the last of the usual traffic slowdowns, and I’m on my home stretch of freeway. I’ve got an old mix CD in the player, blaring my work is over music. If I’m driving 70 miles an hour, the music’s going 140. I’m so ready to be home. Tomorrow’s my party. Tonight it’s just Nick, and he’s promised me something special. He’d better, I’m 30 today, damnit!

I’m somewhere between electric excitement and utter end-of-the week exhaustion. Meeting after meeting after meeting, and toward the end of the day – who schedules a 4:00pm meeting on a fourth of July Friday anyway? – I just felt like throwing a big blanket on my cubicle and pretending it was a big fort.

I pull into the drive way, flip off the car, unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door in one single motion. That one little sleight of hand’s all I’ve got to show for all those self-defense and karate classes Mom made me take when I was fourteen. When I get to the front door, there’s a whiff of something in the air, and as soon as I find my keys (buried in my purse as soon as I got out of the car – doofus) and get the door unlocked, I’m assaulted by the fragrance of dark chocolate and cooking cherries.

“Hi hon!”

“Hey you! I didn’t hear you pull up!” He rounds the bend of the kitchen, tries not to trip over his own feet, and suddenly his arms are around me and it feels just wonderful, “Happy birthday, love!” He looks so excited.

“I love you, too,” and I do. I kiss him. He tastes and smells like Nick and chocolate.

“Cake’s just about in the oven. Cherries are on low. Fresh-made ice cream’s in the freezer.”

“Sounds great! I’m gonna go change,” I head upstairs into the bedroom. Hoping that the post-dessert is going to be as scrumptious as the dessert, I find a pair of panties with ties – the kind that fall apart at the waist when you pull the right string – and a deep red front-clasping bra with lots of lace. I slip them on, but before I can get any outerwear on, Nick’s in the doorway.

“I just put the cake in the oven. The kitchen timer broke this morning, but…” he drawls out the “but” a bit, so cute. “Did you know that an eight ounce chocolate bar like this, placed on naked skin takes exactly one hour to melt?” I blush a bit, unexpectedly. “Lay down on the bed.” He breaks four squares, each an ounce, off a brick of ultra-dark chocolate.

The velour bedspread is cool on my back. Shadows play across my skin nicely as I lay down. A long sliver of light comes in through the lines and lays a line across my navel and tummy. I hope he sees this…

“Forty minutes. That’s how long the cake needs. Where should I put this?” He touches it to my lips. I touch it with the tip of my tongue, artistically, trying to tease him a little for teasing me. He takes it and draws a line down the nape of my neck and shoulders, then traces a line right across my breasts where my bra stops. Then the inside of each thigh, and I’m tingling and flush and wet by this point. God I want him to choose. To set it down. To press his lips against mine and take me roughly. He draws a line around the soft part of my stomach, and then I feel the cool bar rest on the hollow between my ribs.

“There. Perfect.” He whispers in my ear, the ‘P’ sending a rush of air across my skin. I lean into the whisper, hoping he’ll kiss the side of my neck. “Actually, I only need 35 minutes, so we’d better warm you up a little.”

Then comes the kiss, gently at first, then with teeth and tongue and he traces along the lines he drew with chocolate, tasting me, and I shiver and arch toward him. I want more. “Ah. Now if you move too much and you knock the chocolate off, the cake’ll be ruined. I won’t know how long I’ve baked it. I suppose you’re warm enough.” He straddles and hovers over me, not quite touching me. He reaches down and gives me one final kiss.

“Alright, I’m going to blindfold you,” He does, with a black silk scarf we keep for just such an occasion. “I’ll be back”

And with that he ties a walks out of the room. I close my eyes and try to rest a bit, but the tingling just keeps coming back. I wish I could reach my vibrator, but then I wouldn’t want to use it just now, anyway. I can feel it begin to melt, the bar sliding around a bit on a pillow of melted chocolate. I wonder how much is gone?

Nick comes back in. “Now I’m just waiting. I hate waiting, don’t you?”

“So why wait?” God I want him in me, on me, hands pinning me to the bed by the wrists while he pounds into me. The chocolate feels nice and warm. I hear a rattle of something, though.

“Because all the best things come when the moment of anticipation is greatest. When if you waited just one second longer, it’d be too long, but right now the desire is just eating you from the inside out. Smell the cake? It’s getting there. How much longer do you think it will be till the chocolate melts?”

The question is rhetorical. He rattles something again. And then he touches my lip with an ice cold finger. Oh god, oh wow. “Think you can hold still for that long?” I brace for the touch of the ice cube. He starts with the inside of my thigh, drawing a line slowly from my knee to just off the side of my panties. I squirm a bit, trying to hold still. I cry out. “Nick! Oh my god that’s… God!”

“Better not, the chocolate’s moving.” Now the other thigh. He holds it there, the cold butns it’s so intense. And then a long slow arc along my waist and up under my arm, and, and, and “WOW!” I can’t help but arch a bit. I try to hold it, try to hold still, but I arch my back anyway and he pins down my other wrist while he draws the ice across the tops of my breasts. He rests for a second and suddenly the pause is too much, “More, god. Please!” He unclasps my bra and traces long spirals around them toward the center. My nipples could probably shatter that ice right now. I start to arch again and clamp down. I’ve soaked my panties I’m so wet.

He relaxes, and I relax, feeling the lines he’s traced along my body evaporate and the warm melty chocolate starting to stray.

“Oh dear,” He repositions the chocolate where it started. “Looks like some’s getting away, see?” He undoes my blindfold, and then leans in and takes some off my waist with his tongue and lips. A sigh escapes me. He continues down my waist and laps up the line of melted chocolate until he comes to the knot in my panties. He undoes it with his teeth in one motion, and the cloth falls away to expose me, wet and naked and waiting.

“Please.”

The pause takes so long I’m not sure if he’s going to do it, but then I feel it, tongue sliding between flesh, parting my lips, tasting me. The first few draws of his tongue are ever so thorough, exploring every crevice and ridge. “You taste better than chocolate, but you still can’t move” He says and then his tongue meets my clit. His drive is more purposeful now, and I begin to melt, myself.

The rush of orgasm starts in my thighs and the small of my back. Tingles. He sense them. I start to breath heavier, trying desperately to hold myself still. I look down, trying to take in a view of him as I come. Almost. There. Fuck. I yell it out. Fuck! Yes. And then he stops, pulls back, right before, and I grab the bedsheets and bite down on my lip.
“Looks like the cake’s done. Be right back.” He leaves and I moan. Quickly, I take my finger and run it through the chocolate on my belly. I draw an arrow down, toward my pussy, and then dab a bit on my clit. Touching myself, it would be so easy to give in, finish myself off….

He walks back in, “I see.” and begins unbuttoning his shirt. “The cake needs to cool a bit.”

“More. Finish me. Please.”

His shirt is off. He’s standing in the last flashes of light in the room, in and out of them and they fall on his chest and abs. And now his jeans, button by button, and everything comes off and he practically glows in the fading light. He comes to me and licks the chocolate clean from my body, coming up to kiss me occasionally and share the taste. He follows the arrow. God yes. Follow the arrow.

“Turn over. Bend over the bed. You need a birthday spanking before you get your presents. Thirty.”

“But!” I say weakly, even as I turn over and bend over the bed, butt high and waiting. They come with a smack! I’m already so turned on he doesn’t have to make the first few light, and he knows it.

Full hand, open cracking sounds followed by a rush of blood and adrenaline. My nipples are as hard now as they were when he drew the ice along them, and they tingle as they graze the velour. Smack, smack, smack! They’re harder and faster, and I count them, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! And suddenly he’s down on his knees behind me, licking that last bit of chocolate away from my clit and not stopping, driving me home. I grab the bedsheets and hold tight and lean in, flexing my butt down and it hits me. Wave after wave after wave, and he moans, mouth buried between my buttocks, and I scream out until there’s no air in my lungs.

Spent, I crawl back into the bed and am surrounded by his arms and legs. I press closely up against his skin. I feel his cock throbbing, hard and angry with desire. We kiss passionately and fondle each other until the cake has cooled. He puts his pants back on and leads me to the kitchen, but I still need his cock. Later.