Chocolate and Red Wine

CHOCOLATE AND RED WINE

He watched her work on the icing. The cake itself was finished. A birthday for her favorite nephew. He liked to watch her work; smooth, flowing motion... easy grace in her movements. An athlete, even in the kitchen.

Music came from the system, a real mix of styles: acoustic banjo, early--early rock and roll, jazz vocals... mostly females... Billie Holiday... Diana Krall... Nina Simon, Guy Clark folk songs, classic Frank Sinatra, Jimmy Reed blues... a CD she had put together.

The controls were in an antique French wardrobe, its doors open, full mirrors on the insides of the doors. He was reading A Painted House, the newest Grisham book. He looked up from time to time, into the mirrors, watched the smooth motion of her working.

She put the tip of a finger into the icing, put the finger to her mouth, checking the taste, the consistency. "I'll have some of that," he said.

"Some of what?" She looked at him in the glass, put the finger back to her mouth.

"Why; chocolate icing, of course. What did you think?"

"With you, one never knows."

"Ah," he said, taking a sip of red wine, putting Grisham down. "You wouldn't be being mischievous now would you?"

"Want some icing?" she watched him In the mirror. His back was to her.

"Some icing would be good."

He felt the tightness come into his lower stomach; felt the heat flow to his crotch.

She undid the top two buttons of her blouse. She did not wear a bra. He watched her reach the finger into the mixing bowl, come out covered with chocolate. She dabbed the icing onto her uncovered nipple; she stared into his eyes, did not look away.

"Want some icing?"

"Some icing would be good."

"Well, what the hell are you doing way over there?"

He circled the room, came to her. She licked the remaining chocolate from her finger. He bent to her breast, took the nipple between his teeth, worked his tongue, licking the sweetness from her. He sipped the red wine, put his thumb into the glass, put it into her mouth, felt her suck his thumb.

"Bring the bowl," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"Away."

He put his arm around her shoulder, the other under her hips, lifted her and started across the room. She grabbed the mixing bowl.

With his foot he swept away the magazines, books, photographs from the long, low coffee table. He lowered her to the smooth, cool marble tabletop.

"My, my," she said, "whatever does this mean?"

"Some of your other parts need a little chocolate, maybe a little red wine."

"My, my," she said, started to unbutton more buttons.

He stopped her. "I'll do that part. I like to do that part. You just watch."

"I know."

He ran his hand, his thumb, into the legs of her shorts; the fingers and thumb meeting at the top, clutching the entire crotch of her shorts. He hooked the forefinger into the waistband, holding the whole front of her shorts tight.

Her eyes wide, she looked at him; shifted her eyes, found herself, him, in the mirror. She watched him lift her ass off the table.

"Ah," he said, "a little red wine."

He tilted the glass, poured the wine onto her middle, into her belly button.

He lowered his mouth, sucked the wine from her, licked the tailings that had run down her sides, down her belly into the bunched up shorts. He opened the front of her shirt, spread the halves, uncovered her breast.

"Well! This nipple has been neglected. What does it need?"

"Both!" she said, "It definitely needs both!"

"Both!" he said In mock horror. "My, you are a wicked girl!"

"The worst, the wickedest!" she said.

She watched him smear the dark sweetness onto her nipple, tweak it between his thumb and forefinger, lick the chocolate from his fingers. He poured a drop from his glass onto the icing, then a jigger full into the valley between her breast. It ran down onto her belly, down her sides, onto the marble top.

"Ah...ah! You are a heartless bastard!"

He licked the flowing wine from her.

She ran a finger Into the mixing bowl, covering it with the rich, dark sweetness. She ran the finger under her shorts and panties, down either side of her pubic mound, between the hair line and the beginnings of her legs. He pulled her shorts and panties down to the bottom of her round, not yet uncovering her pussy. His tongue moved in long, strong strokes along the creases she had just smeared with the chocolate.. She watched herself arch her hips upward, toward his mouth.

"Let's have some more of that down here," he said.

She watched him pull his mouth away for the spot at the top of her leg, mouth the words, resume his licking.

"Well, now; just where would you like it?"

"Pick a spot."

She pushed her shorts down in the back, pulled her knees up to her chest, smeared a dollop of chocolate on the very bottom tip of each cheek. With open mouthed anticipation she watched him shift his body to get to the right spot.

"Ou -- ou... ou -- ah -hh!"

He opened his mouth wide... he always did this to her ass, took in a whole mouthful of her bottom. He worked his mouth and tongue over her. " I always thought you had a sweet ass," he said, coming up for air.

" And you're just a smart ass! Biting me like that!"

"And you are a saucy little wench!" he said. "Turn over."

He pulled her shorts, her panties, past her knees and off her feet. He ran chocolate covered finger up the crease between her buttocks, poured drops of wine into the hollow, the small of her back. "Now," he said, "chocolate and red wine."

She watched him, through the mirror, run his tongue up the crease, then suck up the wine. She watched him unbuckle his belt, step out of his jeans and boxers in a long smooth motion; watched him cover the head of his cock with icing, pour on a drop of wine.

"Oh! We want our turn do we?"

"Fair Is fair."

He knelt in front of her, his cock at table top level. She took the shaft in her hand, wrapped her fingers around it; took the chocolate covered head into her mouth, tasted the mix of chocolate, wine, and pre-cum. She felt him, watched him, put a finger deep into her pussy, watched him dip it into the icing, watched him put it into his mouth, lick off the mix of taste.

"Race you upstairs," he said.

"No," she answered. "I want to do it here. In the mirrors."

"You are a wicked wench!"

"The absolute wickedest!"

He sat on the ottoman. She sat on him, on his cock; facing him, facing the mirror. Diana sang:

She moved herself on him. She watched herself, in the twin mirrors. She laughed out loud.

"Oh, you are a hard cock, My hard cock; just a chocolate, red wine hard cock!"