Smut for Chocoholics Page 2

  “Oh, I bought it five years ago from the lovely old lady who had it before me. I still use the same supplier but I gave the place a complete revamp. I love my little chocolate shop; I’ve always wanted to own one.”

  “I’d eat all the stock,” Max laughs, “You must have great self-control.”

  “Not really,” I gesture to my body, “I just manage to sell more chocolate than I eat.”

  “Talking about eating chocolate,” Max picks up the box of chocolates he’d left on the sofa arm beside him, “I can’t wait to get into these. Want to share with me?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have a main meal before the dessert?” I laugh as he reverently peels open the little gold box.

  “That is completely overrated. Dessert first is the only way to eat, really.”

  And when he looks up at me I feel like I am the one being devoured.

  “Where to start?” he mumbles, gaze focused on the chocs in the box.

  “Okay, let’s see which of us is the hottest.” He raises his eyebrows then winks at me. I giggle nervously, wondering where this will lead. “The winner gets to pick the next chocolate from the box.” I nod and watch him pull off his tie and confidently unfasten the top button of his shirt. It is fairly warm in the flat but I don’t think it’s hot enough to need to strip off. He continues to undo the buttons and suddenly I feel incredibly hot and want to remove my own top to cool off. His chest is lightly flecked with dark hair, his nipples are the colour of his kiss-heated lips and his skin is the same shade as the homemade nougat in my best selling chocolate covered bar. I know I am staring but I can’t help it and he doesn’t seem to mind. When his shirt is removed he starts on mine. My heart thumps, he plucks open the black material and reveals my pink skin beneath. I am the colour of our natural peach creams mixed with a hint of the strawberry where the flesh over my heart flushes with sexual tension.

  He removes my top completely. I can still feel his gentle fingers slipping down the centre of my chest even though he isn’t touching me anymore. He picks up the chocolate truffle from the box and places it on top of my left breast. He leans back and places the other just beside his left nipple.

  “We’ll give it a few minutes, and then we’ll see whose chocolate is more melted.”

  I’m fairly confident it will be mine, my skin feels like a layer of fire and I can already feel the crisp chocolate changing to something slicker.

  “I’ve never played this game before,” I break the heavy silence, trying hard to seem blasé about all this.

  “Neither have I, I just made it up to get your top off.”

  I had to laugh at his easy audacity.

  “Well, it’s worked well so far,” I reply with an easy smile.

  “And it’s about to get better.” He picks up his chocolate, there’s a slight sheen to his chest, but his chocolate hasn’t melted that much. He pops the choc into his mouth, moans gently then picks mine up off my chest and presses it to my lips. I open slowly, feeling his fingers brush against me, my heart quickening. As the deep cocoa goodness and sweet truffle centre occupy my taste buds I am overwhelmed to feel Max kissing where that truffle had just rested.

  The kiss turned to licks and the licks to sucks and I shamelessly arch my back to press more of my breast to his mouth. I like this game, a lot.

  “You won, so you pick the next chocolate and what we shall do with it.” His smile is light but his intentions are clearly not gentlemanly. I lean over him and take the chocolate box. I make a show of contemplating each one but my mind has really gone blank. All I want to do is kiss him some more and see where it leads.

  “I know,” a spark of an idea lights up my brain, “I’ll use the salted caramels.”

  I pull one out of the box and put the box on the floor.

  “Good choice,” he mumbles, “so far, they’re my favourite.”

  “I suspect you might enjoy them more eating them this way,” I wink and lift the brown dome to his lips, “open wide then clamp your teeth around the chocolate. Do not bite or chew or lick.”

  He follows my commands perfectly and waits patiently for the next part of the game.

  “I’m going to eat the caramel but I have to pull it from between your teeth, don’t let go for anything. Next, you will eat your caramel from my mouth. We will see who is the quickest and cleanest and they’ll be deemed the winner.”

  I don’t wait for him to respond since he’s got his mouth full. I lean forward and turn my head to the side so I’m slanted against his mouth. I extend my tongue and whip it around the treat, tickling his lips as I do so. I move closer and change the direction of my attack, never biting, always licking, trying to curve my tongue all the way around the treat to get as much of it to melt into my mouth as possible. I don’t want the shell to crack unexpectedly, I want to make a hole and let it ooze out into my mouth.

  Max is very patient; I can hear his breathing deepening with every whip and suck of my lips. His tongue wiggles against mine, I don’t know if it’s purely to feel me or if the chocolate drips are rolling down onto him. It feels good and I am a little distracted, I push a little harder than I meant to and the chocolate shell gives way. I try to gather up the caramel but some escapes and dribbles onto his chin. I lick it up and return to his lips. The chocolate rests on his tongue, how he leaves it there without swallowing I don’t know. I kiss him and the sweet salty combination coats my mouth and his, we share that last few bites and when they melt away they leave nothing but sugary satisfaction and sexual need between us.

  “That took me about three minutes,” I said, pulling my mouth from his and glancing at the clock, “and I’ve made a bit of a mess on your chin. Let’s see if you can do any better.”

  I pass him the box; he takes the salted caramel swirl and discards the rest. I end up in the same position he was a few moments ago, his fingers brushing my lips, the sweet choc between my teeth, waiting. It’s really hard not to bite down or suck and as the chocolate reaches my taste buds it becomes all the more difficult to engage will power and no give in to temptation.

  Max comes closer, pushing my thoughts to his knees knocking against mine, his hand on my shoulder, his lips pressing gently to my mouth. He seems to follow my approach at first, his tongue darting out and around the confection teasing my lips and my tongue, driving me wild with desire.

  He slips his hand down from my shoulder and strokes my breast then, without any preamble, he pinches my nipple through the barrier of my bra.

  “Ouch!” I cry, the chocolate drops from between my lips and into his waiting mouth.

  “Hey, that’s cheating!” I exclaim then pout. Max laughs and shrugs, chewing happily on his chocolate.

  “Nothing in the rules to say I couldn’t just make you drop it, was there?”

  I try to remember exactly what I said. “Alright, you win.” I finally concede. “But my poor nipple may never forgive you.”

  “I am sorry, darling left nipple,” he coos, stroking my breast, “let me kiss it all better.”

  He reaches around me first, and snaps open the fastening on my firm and functional brassier, my breasts slip free as he removes the barrier and slings it away. He moulds both in his warm hands then bends to kiss the left, gently, and delicately making my insides zing with desire.

  “Is she happier now?”

  “Oh, much,” I confirm with a nod.

  “Have I been forgiven?” He continues, his cheeky smile making me giggle.

  “Indeed.”

  “Good. Now it’s my turn to choose what’s next.”

  Choose sex, choose sex, choose sex. I chant it like a mantra in my mind. I want Max, I want to forget the foreplay and get right to the good stuff. I’m not quite ready to beg though, not just yet.

  Max rustles through the box and pulls out the biggest chocolate of them all.


  “Sometimes,” he says, “you just can’t beat a bar of milk chocolate. It always hits the spot.”

  “Exactly,” I agree, “it is what many of my customers tell me they really crave. Forget the fancy stuff, when you need a chocolate injection, that bar in your hand is what we all want.”

  “You’ve just given me a very wicked idea, my dear. However it might get messy, will that be a problem?”

  “Messy? Well, as long as it’ll wash out, we’re okay, I can just throw this erm, throw in the washing machine. Although I am a little nervous about what exactly you’ve got in store for me next, now.”

  “Oh, you’ll love it. I promise, just take your skirt off for me, please.”

  “My, you are a demanding customer,” I joke, trying my best to calm down and pretend I do this kind of thing every day. It’s a little hard because I haven’t done anything like this for years and years. I’m a little worried I might have forgotten how.

  “And you’re a very co-operative shop assistant. Damn hot, too.”

  I blush and concentrate on fiddling open the button and zip on my straight work skirt and pushing it down off my thighs. I watch it pool at my feet. Max grabs my hand and yanks me back onto the sofa. I screech and flail in a terribly unladylike way and Max’s deep and manly chuckles rumble through my stomach.

  “Sit back, relax,” he says, kissing the back of my hand before making the leap from my arm to my body. His lips on my stomach feel hot and hard, I want to squirm away, take his attention lower but I don’t need to move because Max is already heading in that direction. I’m tense, unsure of what might happen next. I’ve got a hot guy staring up my body, seeing all my intimate imperfections, curves and insecurities.

  I’m flooded with relief when he moans softly, parts my thighs and drops to the floor between my legs. I’m not sure where the chocolate is going to figure in all this but I don’t really care. I want his lips on my pussy. I’m wet, aching and needy. Max runs his hand up to the barrier of my knickers and gently pulls down. I lift my hips to aid his manoeuvres. I’m truly naked in front of him now but I don’t worry after he lets out a whistle of appreciation and kneels between my thighs again.

  “Open wide,” he urges and I start to open my mouth, a little confused but eager to please. Seconds later I realise his real meaning as the stubby end of the chocolate bar presses between my sex lips. He uses the fingers of one hand to hold open my soft lips and uses the other to push the chocolate stick into me.

  “Fuck,” I exclaim, the hard, ungiving chocolate slowly entering me. It feels so good and as he gently stimulates my clit I feel ecstasy explode through my lower body.

  “Beautiful, “ he gasps, pushing the impromptu chocolate dildo deeper into me before pulling it back again and repeating the move. “It’s almost ready.”

  I can feel the chocolate melting. It’s not as firm inside me and there’s moisture pooling in me that is thicker than my natural juices. The smell is delightful, chocolate, sex and him.

  “Done,” he whispers and takes the sweet treat from between my nether lips. I look down my body and watch him sucking my juices from the sticky mess that was a chocolate bar. “Want a bit?”

  I nod and he leans up to press the remaining chunks between my lips. It is silky sweet with an edge of salty musk, the perfect combination. I’m luxuriating in this new taste sensation when I’m distracted by his breath on my pussy followed closely by his soft lips and insistent tongue seeking out the chocolate drips.

  All my senses reel, I’m completely caught up in pleasure. I want to explode and know I will if he keeps up the pressure he’s applying to my clit. Sadly, he doesn’t.

  “I need to fuck you,” he gasps, “right now.”

  “Yes,” I reply, “yes you do. Oh, condoms.” My tone dropped as I realise I’m protection less. It’s been a while since I needed it.

  “Yes, got’em. “ Max kicks off his pants and reached into the pocket of his coat to remove his wallet. “I’m always prepared and always optimistic.”

  His smile melts my heart and the sight of his bobbing erection boils my core. He’s so hard and I want to feel him inside of me. Luckily, he seems to be on the same page as he snaps on the condom before that thought is fully formed. He walks over and I shuffle back onto the sofa and make room for him. He joins me; I stretch my thighs wide and allow him in. Max presses up close and I catch my breath when the cool of the condom brushes my lower lips then the heat of his erection beneath.

  “Maria, I really want you, but if this is going too fast - ”

  I stop his sweet, if un-needed speech with a kiss. I wrap my legs around him and pull him forward. I groan, my pussy stretches around his girth then relaxes as he slides in. When he’s pressed hard against me our lips pull apart and I hear as well as feel his ragged breath.

  Max starts slowly, his gaze locks with mine and I know it’s not going to last. He’s desperate for release and so am I. An understanding passes between us, unspoken but agreed and his tempo increases rapidly. I cling to him, feeling the passion and power with every thrust and I hold him, wanting to feel every last vibration, every touch. His muscles clench where my fingers touch, he winds up tight and I know he’s going to come soon.

  I need that release too and so insinuate my hand between our bodies, I seek out my clit and give the extra, directed pressure I need to climb closer to climax. We are lost in our own sensations, separate yet intrinsically joined and with only a few strokes, I find the ecstasy I’d searched for.

  I cling tightly, riding the waves of passion and experience his own climax as it rolls on from mine. He collapses onto me and we pant together, chest to chest. When I look at him I see chocolate smeared across his cheek and I lift my head up to kiss it away.

  “I think I just discovered something I like better than chocolate,” his voice rumbles in his chest and echoes through mine.

  “I’m just glad you’re going to have to keep coming to my shop to get it.” I laugh and he joins in. I know there’s far more for us to discover together, far more new and interesting ways to use chocolate.

  Mona’s Flood

  By Giselle Renarde

  Mona peered out the window as the storm barrelled down. Beyond the slick clearing, the men were hard at work. She could scarcely see them moving in the treeline.

  “They continue collecting lumber?” Sister Beryl asked, peeking over Mona’s shoulder. “I’d have thought the inclement weather would put them off.”

  “Well, they can hardly complete the ark without lumber!” Sister Frances clucked. “Really, Sister Beryl, I wish you’d use your head.”

  “Hush, Sister.” Mona offered Beryl a kind smile. “Pay our friend no heed. She’s only anxious about the flood.”

  “Yes. And?” Sister Frances stared out the window. “The rain is teeming down, and it’s brown! The world is coming to an end, just as Brother Jacob prophesied.”

  “Let’s remain calm,” Mona said. “Soon enough, the men will finish the ark, and then we’ll be saved.”

  “Saved indeed!” Sister Frances shot back. “If being driven from our home can be considered salvation.”

  Sister Beryl took hold of Mona’s hand and squeezed. “You must admit, Sister, that our Frances has a point. Why should we be punished for the sins of those greedy, godless electricity hogs in the cities?”

  “My point exactly,” said Sister Frances, hovering close. “We’ve chosen to live the pure life, and what reward have we been given?”

  “Ah, but recall what Brother Jacob says,” Mona reminded her friends. “The reward for our toil and hardship comes not in this life, but the next.”

  “The next life will be on us sooner rather than later, if that hideous brown stuff keeps falling from the sky.” Sister Beryl pressed harder on Mona’s hand. “Look across the clearing. It must be ankle-deep by now.�
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  “Beryl’s right,” Sister Frances agreed. “And there’s no sign of it letting up. We’d best make our way to the ark while we can still manoeuvre the path.”

  “Have you gathered all your earthly possessions?” Sister Beryl asked Mona. “Brother Jacob asked us not to bring more than we absolutely needed, but I’m having trouble deciding exactly what I do need. Should we bring a chair? Bring our beds? How long will we live on the ark?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Mona said as she ushered Beryl upstairs.

  The commune’s many families had boarded the completed section of the ark days ago, so the children could grow accustomed to life on the great boat. With the men hard at work, it was only the unmarried women left at Sacred House, tasked with preparing meals for the rest of the community. But Sister Frances was right - if they put off trekking to the ark much longer, they might not make it at all.

  “Sister Deidra, what are you doing in bed at this hour?” Beryl asked the blonde lying face-down on her mattress. “Are you packed and ready to go? We’ve decided to venture to the ark.”

  “No!” Sister Deidra shrieked. She shot up from the bed, cheeks tearstained and eyes bloodshot. “You’ll have to go without me. I can’t! I simply can’t board that vessel.”

  The poor girl looked as though she was in shock, and Mona rushed to her side, setting a hand on the wrinkled fabric of her apron. “Whatever is wrong, dear Sister?”

  Deidra gazed quickly to the door of the communal bedroom and whispered, “Where is Sister Frances?”

  “Downstairs,” Sister Beryl replied.

  “Close the door,” Deidra said, keeping her voice low. “I’ll tell you two, but this goes no further. Do you promise?”

  “Of course, Sister Deidra.” Beryl shut the bedroom door softly and crept close, kneeling at their blonde friend’s feet. “Tell us what troubles you.”