Creme Brulee

The waiter brings us our dessert: crème brulee to share.

You crack the fire crisp surface with your spoon, digging it in deep, and you slide the first taste of the dessert between your lips.

You slip it in slowly, taking your time.

Your eye catches mine. You give me a coy smile and a look. The look beckons me to take the next turn.

I dip my spoon in, withdraw it. I see you purse your lips, anticipating my response.

I hesitate. You circle and wet your lips with the tip of your tongue.

Smiling in turn, I change direction: I bring the spoon to your lips. You part open your mouth, tongue reaching out.

I hold the spoon, laden full, before you.

You grab my wrist, keeping the spoon still. Your lips close slowly around the tip of the spoon, taking in just a little bit of the dessert.

You give me another look. I keep the spoon stiff before your mouth.

You take my wrist in a firm grasp and bend your mouth to the spoon.

Your tongue snakes out. Like a kitten lapping milk, you lick into the dollop of crème brulee, and then swallow it all.

You smile again.

Foregoing the spoon, and forgetting manners, I dip my finger into the crème brulee and present it to your lips, and insert it gently between them, with a slight little back and forth thrust.

You take firmer hold of my wrist, and swirl your tongue all around my finger, and up and down, then swallow it to its base. Slowly you withdraw it to its tip, sucking firmly around my finger, then you plunge your lips back down around it.

Impatient, I motion with my eyes for us to leave. You don't move. You pick the spoon back up, and you return to eating the crème brulee, taking your time, purring over its taste, never breaking eye contact with me, savoring each spoonful.

With more than half still left in the little bowl, you offer me another spoonful. I take your hand in my hand, and I leave the table, pulling you after me, stopping just long enough to tell the waiter to charge it to our hotel room.

We go to the back of the elevator. A few other people enter. I press up against you from behind. You ignore me.

We enter our room. I lead you over to the bed. You don't follow my lead. You enter the bathroom, go to the sink, and you begin washing your face. I press up behind you again, pressing my bulge against your ass. You don't alter you pace, remaining deliberate. I hike up your skirt, and strip off your panties. You wiggle your ass back at me and bend over the sink, spreading your legs apart some.

Looking at me in the mirror, you tell me to strip down and just watch. You finish taking off your make up, wearing nothing but your blouse.

You reach back behind yourself and start playing with your pussy and ass, parting each open for my eyes, tempting me to take you right then and there, from behind, standing up.

I remember the crème brulee. I pull back. The erotic thrives on delay.

Standing behind you in front of the mirror, I undo the buttons of your blouse, one by one, slowly.

With each undone button, I open the blouse a bit more.

I love looking at your eyes in the mirror as I take you from behind with kisses and caresses.

When the blouse is undone, I slide each strap of your bra gently off your shoulder.

You make each of your nipples taut for me, watching yourself play with them in the mirror.

Naked, you offer your ass to me again.

Instead, I take you by the hand, and I start sucking on a finger, taking it in fellatio, doing unto your finger what I love done unto my cock. I take one finger, and then the next, more deliberately, more slowly, than you took the crème brulee, letting nothing touch between us except finger and tongue and mouth.

I feel you go into heat, wanting to be taken, needing to be entered.

Your eyes motion me to the bed.

My eyes motion you down onto your knees.

You kneel.

I play with my cock right before your eyes, slipping and sliding the foreskin over my head, a little game of hide and seek, and not letting you touch.

I give you my cock to suck, and you take it greedily...too greedily.

I take you into the bedroom, and I sit you down on the edge of the bed, and before I offer you my cock again, I take hold of your hand and take a finger into my mouth.

I then tell you to start sucking my cock again by doing to it whatever I do to your finger, your mouth around my thick cock following the lead of my mouth around your thin finger.

Your hot, moist cock around my mouth is divine. With your free hand, you start playing with yourself. I love knowing how hot you are getting from sucking my cock

I let your hand go.

You lie on the bed and play with yourself beautifully, sending powerful surges of lust through me

I stand before you at the side of the bed.

I love showing off what you have done to me.

You urge me on with your own playing, circling yourself, caressing yourself, quickening your pace.

I love watching you coyly take yourself, moaning softly.

Your eyes beckon me back close to you.

You softly cuddle my balls in your hands, then part open your lips, sliding me inside you, surrounding me in such a vital way with your warmth, offering me the moist heat of your intimacy.

The heat of your desire pervades me, coursing through my cock and then up my spine, the flames from each lick of your tongue....each caress of my balls.....surging through me, going straight up the wick of my spine, enflaming me with even more desire.

I begin to pull back, my imagination lit with a vision of flipping you over, parting your cheeks, then licking your ass with hot poke tongue and swirling into you into as much pleasure as you are giving me, tongue giving way to the baton of cock.

You resist, holding me still by my ass. I see in your eyes—I sense in your touch—your primal need to swallow. You have me by the balls, and I surrender...in bliss. You savor the last helping of crème brulee with a smile, and then we share it with a kiss.