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A Strawberry Tart: Food, The Eighth Virtual Symposium
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A Strawberry Tart: Food, The Eighth Virtual Symposium Food and sex. You can't separate the two. Inevitably the sexiest women have a sensual pleasure in food. The cliché may be this is only true of ample women of Rubenesque proportions, but all three of my wives were models with the appetites of horses and the metabolism of a fourteen year old boy with a hyper active thyroid. Where the food went I never knew, but I never saw it on tummy, ass, thigh, boob, or any other problem area. Some of you are thoroughly disgusted reading that. Believe me, fighting my own battle of the waistband I was too. They could eat a cake and not gain a pound, I couldn't eat a crumb. They could give up chocolate for a week (not a good week) and lose five pounds. It didn't keep food out of the bed naturally. My first wife, Angelique, as some of you know was French and danced at the Crazy Saloon in Paris in the seventies where I was assigned to the Embassy. Like all three wives she was over sexed, extroverted, impossible, beautiful, funny, madly in love with me for some reason, and ate twenty four hours a day. It was a given she was going to combine sex and eating at some point. That evening we had been a dull diplomatic dinner and though we had avoided too much wine and the food was awful, I was exhausted when we got home. I imagined we would undress, shower, and hit the bed since she had to rehearse the next day. Even the dessert had been an inedible strawberry tart obviously made by the worst chef in Paris. We showered together with little or no fooling around beyond washing each others sexy parts, and after drying off I lay down on top of the covers and half drifted in and out of sleep watching the rain fall on the skylight above the bed. It doesn't always rain in Paris, but if you live there it can seem like you are trapped in one of Simenon's Maigret novels where it is always raining and you are always overdressed for the close hot rooms. Which is why I was slowly spinning into a dream state when I felt a warm and eager mouth devouring the head of my cock. I lay there a moment enjoying the sensation but not really awake. But, as she became more insistent I struggled reluctantly awake. That's when I felt something cold and sticky on my cock dripping down my crotch and balls and into my ass crack. I opened my eyes and discover Angelique twirling a very large wet strawberry around the head of my cock. Before I could say anything she swooped down again swallowing the large glans and sucking the juice from it while digging her tongue into my urethra, slightly uncomfortable with the acid juice and cold tongue, but the slight irritant enough that I surged to full erection and felt pre cum spurt onto her tongue. She came off my cock and took a large bite of the ripe strawberry mushing it with her teeth, and then took my cock in her mouth again. It stung a bit, but as before it made me harder despite the cold. This time she pushed well past the crown as if trying to throat me, and saliva and juice ran into my crotch. She polished off the strawberry, and took another from a bowl and swirled it in another bowl of fresh cream and then swirled that around my cock before feeding on it. When she had done that awhile she reached for a brut of Tattinger she had brought in at some point, poured a bubbling flute full, filled her mouth with champagne and then took me in her mouth again still dripping strawberry and cream and now champagne. I tried rising to take control and a firm had pushed me back. She moved from my cock and teased my nipples with a strawberry, then dipped it in champagne and teased my lips, but when I tried to bite her mouth replaced the strawberry and her tongue pushed deeply and hungrily into my mouth. She twirled strawberry and champagne on one of her nipples and strawberry and cream on the other and fed them to me then when she was bored with that she rubbed a strawberry along the moist seam of her open pussy and fed that to me then added more and straddled my face lowering her self on my mouth. I fed hungrily and she would rub strawberry and champagne or cream on her clit before I sucked it. Meanwhile she reached back to manipulate my cock using the cream as a lubricant so the dripping precum and cream were mixed together in a froth and my hips began to grind and rise involuntarily in rhythm to her hand. She shuddered above me and her legs tightened on my head as my mouth was filled with the warmth of her climax tasting of strawberries, cream, and champagne. Then with little pause she dismounted and fell on my cock, pouring champagne over my cock then mashing a strawberry on it and taking a mouthful of cream before plunging down. She took a considerable amount of my cock, which wasn't that easy to do without so much as a gag, and then proceeded to blow my brains out while I fondled the ass and pussy aimed at my head. As I rose to the climax I dug fingers in her wet pussy and sticky asshole and swelled in her mouth lifting her off the bed as I arched into a spine wrenching orgasm. Normally she didn't like to swallow, but I guess the champagne, strawberry, and cream sweetened the taste because she fed on me until I was whimpering for her to stop. I expected a warm towel and a cuddle next, but instead her pointed little tongue went to work following all the little trails of strawberry juice, cream, and champagne until I was writing as her tongue went the most intimate places it could. The second erection she simply mounted, and was so wet no lube was needed despite the champagne. She plunged on me and twisted, cried out, swore, groaned, grunted, demanded "Baise moi!", and finally brought me to a climax that seemed torn from my body. We were both panting when she finished, brought a warm cloth and towel to wash us both, and collapsed across my chest wrapping around me. Between breaths I asked her what brought that on, and lids half closed, between yawns and deep sighs she said: "I missed dessert." Food is the subject of the Eighth Virtual Symposium for anyone wanting to participate.     Lust brings you together, love keeps you there, sex keeps the mechanism lubricated.  |
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Did I tell you I do love strawberries too hugsssssss V .. Nicely done!  But if you want to share strawberries and crème and a brut of Tattinger name the place and the time and I'll bring the crème. Lust brings you together, love keeps you there, sex keeps the mechanism lubricated.
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Did I tell you I do love strawberries too hugsssssss V .. Nicely done! Become a blog watcher sweet_vm
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Great job! Well written!  Lust brings you together, love keeps you there, sex keeps the mechanism lubricated.
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Great job! Well written! WITHOUT PASSION LIFE IS NOTHING
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