Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
I practically dropped the bowls onto the coffee table as Rosie kicked off her panties and PJ bottoms. Holy fucking Christ, she drove me crazy.
I was still suited as I lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the dining table. She tugged off my tie as she landed her mouth on mine, and my hands were besotted with her, teasing at her nipples as I moaned around her tongue.
I spread her legs by the knees, uncaring of everything else in the world but the need for her. She was bloody, and sensitive, gasping as I played. More. Her body screamed that she wanted more. She leant back on the table, arching herself, but that wasn’t enough for me. Seeing here there, in that position, was enough to set the scene.
Chocolate fudge cake wasn’t the only dessert I wanted with cream.
I pushed her onto her back so she was lying flat, her legs reaching for me over the edge. She was the new dinner spread. I undressed myself in a fervour as she watched me, confidently. Her hair fanned backwards and her glasses sat clumsily, but she was secure in her own skin, eyes shining. She really was becoming my vixen. A beautifully dirty little princess.
A princess who deserved a gift from the knight out to take her.
I pulled the single red rose from its makeshift vase and trailed its petals right the way over her tits, down her stomach, to tickle the inside of her thigh. A rose for my Rosie. My pretty dessert at the end of our meal.
My fucking God, I was hungry for her.
With that, I picked up the pot of cream from the table, held it high, and poured it all the way down her body. She braced herself, moaning as the cream splattered and ran, and that made my cock throb even more.
Bon appetite, indeed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rosie
Julian was an artist with cream. My tits were streaming with thick white rivers. He trailed splashes down my stomach. And lower…
I gasped as he covered my pussy in long dribbles, squirming and grinning as he made his way right back up again. Slowly. I knew what he was going to do as he held the pot of cream up over my face. I offered him my tongue, and he treated my mouth like a slut needing cum – tipping the pot from way up high. My glasses got splattered, and my freshly washed hair was a mess, but I didn’t care. My lips were dribbling, and my tongue was drenched, gooey, and it was perfect. Cold and sweet.
I didn’t swallow any of the cream until he kissed me. His tongue lapped around my lips, smearing more, and then it was wet, thick, creamy kisses as I moaned along with him. He had me. I was crazy for him. Absolutely, full-on crazy for him.
I was a sloppy mess when he took hold of my face and broke the kiss. His lips were as smeared as mine, glistening, and I wanted more. Always, always more.
I pulled him back for another kiss, my creamy fingers in his hair. I held him close, caking his bare chest in white as I wrapped my legs up around him. Blood, cream, mess… I didn’t care, and neither did he. I wanted the cream on his skin, though. I wanted him to be as slippery and as messy as me.
Luckily, the pot on the table was a big one. I wanted to be a kinky little bitch and picked up the pot from the table. I trailed fresh cream down myself, playing with the streams as I did it, smearing my tits and my pussy.
Julian watched like I was a performer, totally absorbed as I writhed and rubbed. And then he responded, lowering his head to my tits, mouth open wide. His tongue was bliss. He worked paths slowly around my skin, lapping like a dream, down and down and down. I didn’t even want to picture what a mess my pussy must be, or what it would taste like, but he didn’t hold back. He drove me wild, splaying and sucking, teasing me until I was moaning, but I wanted to feel his cock in me. I needed his cock.
I felt like such a needy whore as I begged him to fuck me. Please. Please. Please, Julian. Please!
He smirked at first as he shook his head to deny me, kissing more messy cream down my thigh and nibbling and biting my love bite bruises.
Please! I begged again, and my heart leapt as he got to his feet, but no. It was his turn to be coated with the cream next. His dick was raging hard as he poured the last of the cream all over him, from his stomach, down over the length of his cock to his balls. His cock looked like a sweet, dirty, wet lollipop and I was hungry for it. He presented himself to my mouth and I did my best to lick up every single bit, not wanting to waste a drop. My best wasn’t quite good enough, though. Cream dribbled down my chin, making me giggle as I smiled up at him through my cream smeared glasses. My giggle only spurred him on. He took hold of my splatted hair and worked his cock to the back of my throat, fucking my face with that dirty lolly like he wanted to choke me on it. I gagged and I spluttered and cream went everywhere but I loved every single second of it, moaning like a bitch in heat.