tagErotic CouplingsChocolate Sundae

Chocolate Sundae

byodlum©

The snow had been falling steadily all day and the roads were treacherous. I was relieved to round the final corner and turn in to my cul-de-sac. I smiled and shook my head. Before my car was my driveway and walk, both shoveled. It was the work of my neighbor, Wilf, and much appreciated. He now was busy shoveling his driveway.

I slowed to a stop, lowered the window, and called out, "Wilf, you are an angel. Thank you so much." The slightly hunched figure stopped his shoveling and approached the car. Snow clung to his toque and jacket. Ice crystals stuck to his beard and eyebrows. His cheeks were ruddy with exertion but his blue eyes sparkled through his water spotted glasses. His smile was infectious and genuine.

"Helen, glad you were a little late today, I managed to get your driveway finished before you got home."

"Busy day at the hospital," I replied. "Besides the driving was a real..." I paused knowing that Wilf did not like to hear women curse. Then I continued. "Just glad to make it home safely, there were lots of accidents...now you... you must be careful. I don't want to find you in my emergency ward."

Wilf just laughed. "Sweetie, this is just good exercise for me. Besides what else do I have to do? The hockey game is not on until 6 and I don't watch the soaps, and a man can only suffer the CNN talking heads for so long..." His voice trailed off. He straightened, bit his lip, and gazed down the road. It was obvious that the loneliness of his solitary existence had overcome him. "Damn it! It's starting to snow again," he muttered. "God must be offering me an extended exercise program today." He laughed and looked down at me. "...And what are you going to be doing tonight, young lady?"

I was constantly flattered when Wilf called me a young lady. While there was more than 25 years difference in our age, as a 42-year-old divorcee, I no longer considered myself young. However, his flirtatious words always delighted me. Without thinking, I flippantly replied, "Oh, I'm going to shave my legs, just in case I get a Valentine's Day visitor tomorrow night." Then I added sarcastically, "You know the probability of that happening! Have a good night, Wilf and thanks again." With those words, I put the car in gear and proceeded slowly into my driveway.

"If you need any help or supervision just give me a call or flash your bathroom light," Wilf called out with a laugh.

"Wilf, you're a dirty old man! I think that's what I love about you," I called out through the car window as I waited for the garage door to open. "I'll keep your offer in mind and phone you if I run out of razor blades. Talk to you later." Wilf had already returned to his work, his only answer a shovel full of snow tossed in my direction.

By the time I started dinner, the news was finishing and my favorite TV game show was just about to begin. It was the harsh reality of my nursing schedule. The 12-hour shifts, which began early in the morning, never seemed to end on time. The extended shifts left few personal moments in my day except to eat and sleep. Tomorrow night would begin my five days of off time. Yet, I lamented the fact that I would be spending it alone. The beep of the microwave announced that my frozen dinner was ready. It also reminded me that I needed to start doing things that were special for me. Maybe I would shave my legs tonight, I though emphatically.

I stood in the kitchen nibbling at my lasagna entrŽe barely glancing over the counter and the dining room table at the TV in the family room. A flash of light caught my eye. Wilf's kitchen light had come on. Our townhouses backed upon a small creek park. While staggered to fit the meandering creek, many of our windows were almost directly opposite one another. I watched Wilf move about his kitchen. I had the feeling that he often watched me too.

Dinner finished, I tried to enjoy a cup of coffee on the couch and watch the mindless Barbie dolls mindlessly describe the lives of celebrities. However, I kept nodding off only to wake up to the blare of the television commercials. The thought of a nice hot shower and the luxury of shaving my legs stirred me. I cleaned up the kitchen, loaded and set the dishwasher, and headed up stairs to my bedroom.

I dropped my baggy nurse's outfit and my bra and panties into the laundry hamper and stood naked in my bedroom. I looked at the phone on the nightstand. Without really thinking, I picked up the handset and selected the speed dial button for Wilf. On the third ring, he answered. "Hello..."

"Wilf..."

"Well, hello, beautiful lady. What is it? Did you run out of razor blades?"

A giddy laugh consumed me. "No, no Wilf, I just wanted to thank you again for shoveling my snow. It was very nice of you." I hoped my matter of fact voice did not betray my true emotions. At that moment, I felt like a naughty, naked teenage girl, secretly phoning her boyfriend. I was enjoying the titillation of the moment. My left hand softly stroked my stomach. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensations. It was almost as if it was his fingers that were touching me. His voice broke my trance.

"Oh it was nothing. After all you are my favorite neighbor and besides, I need the exercise."

My fingers now toyed with the upper edge of my pubic hair. " Mmmm...Well I just wanted to thank you again for your kindness and... ahhh...let you know it was appreciated."

"Helen, it was nothing."

"Ohhh..." I gasped. My fingers had found my pussy and brushed over the hood of my clit. My breathing quickened and the pause in the conversation seemed to go on forever. What was I going to say? "Wilf, what is your favorite dessert?" I blurted out. I could not believe what I had said. What a silly question! What had I been thinking?

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the phone, a sigh, and then came the elongated response "Weeell, I guess if would be a chocolate sundae."

"With lots of whipped cream and cherries," I quickly confirmed with a laugh.

"Oh ya...and lots and lots of chocolate sauce. I must confess I really like to lick the bowl." There was a laugh and then the words, "...lick it clean..."

"Sounds positively wicked," I giggled. Images of mounds of ice cream smothered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream filled my mind. In my ear, I thought I heard series of accelerated pants but my own gasps drowned them out, as my fingers found my wetness and began to explore my crease.

It seemed like an eternity before I spoke again. With a rasping voice, I asked, "Wilf...ahh...would you like to come over tomorrow night for dessert?" Suddenly my words jerked my mind into reality. I had been frigging myself while talking to my next-door neighbor on the phone and I had just invited him over for dessert. Was I out of my mind?

"Would you make me a chocolate sundae?" came the teasing reply.

"You bet! You deserve it. Beside it will give you energy for the next snowfall and ..."

"...And great way for the two of us to celebrate Valentine's Day!" he interjected.

"Can you come over about seven?"

"Suuuure," he answered with a moan.

"Now I have a good reason to shave my legs," I quipped. "Have a good night, Wilf." I said after a pause. "See you soon."

"Look forward to it," came the reply and the noise of the phone dropping.

My ensuite was unusually large for a small townhouse. The architect had designed the room with corner windows to allow someone lounging in the soaker tub to take advantage of the view of the creek and the park behind the houses. Wilf's house and mine were mirror images of each other. The alignment of or homes, gave our ensuite windows only a partial view of the creek, but a direct view into each other's bathroom. For this reason I usually kept my window blinds closed.

However, tonight I behaved with erotic impishness. I had not masturbated in years and the touch of my fingers during the phone call to Wilf had reawakened old and almost forgotten urges. I placed all the necessities for shaving on the counter top of the bathroom cabinets, which stretched along the walls, under the corner window. In the hot water of the sink, at one end of the counter, was the bottle of hair conditioner. My razor and scissors were next to the sink. I dimmed the lights, and climbed up on the counter. I was trembling. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. However, my anxiety and fear only raised my level of excitement. I knew Wilf often stole a look into my house, but never had I intentionally put on an exhibitionistic display for him. I leaned forward, gasped the blind rope, and yanked. The blinds flew open.

As I reached out for the razor and the bottle of conditioner, I had the compelling urge to bolt from the bathroom, but my nipples brushed against my thighs. I gasped. Electric tingles radiated through my body eradicating any fear or apprehension I had in the back of my mind. The warm, oily conditioner felt incredible against my skin. The razor glided sensually over my legs.

The blackness of the night converted the windows into mirrors. I liked what I saw. For the first time in months, I had shaved my legs without a nick or scrape. They felt silky and smooth to the touch. My fingers roamed. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensations. Eventually my fingertips found my mound.

I resisted the urge to frig myself and instead used the scissors and razor to trim and shape my unruly bush into a short delicate profile. The actions of the scissors and razor excited me. When finished, I admired my work. The image, in the mirrored window, titillated. The view of my newly coiffured pussy with its pouting lips and exposed hood beckoned. I had to touch, but one touch was not enough.

I soon found myself sprawled on the counter with my legs splayed against the window. The fingers of my right hand curled deep inside me frantically rubbing the sensitive ribs at the front of my vagina. Not to be outdone, the fingers of my left hand had snaked their way under my buttocks to frenetically massage and tease my anal rosebud. I heard myself scream. Blinding heat and blackness swirled around me.

The sudden flash of Wilf's bathroom light startled me. However, in my weakened condition, all I could do was slowly raise my head. Through blurry eyes, I saw Wilf leaning over his bathroom counter and looking straight at me. His face was flushed. His mouth moved. He seemed to be saying repeatedly "thank you."

The steam from the shower soon covered the bathroom windows and mirrors. I had set the hand held shower unit to massage and enjoyed the hot stinging beads of water as they danced off my breasts and moved slowly down my stomach. My clit was still swollen and hard. It poked its inflamed head out past my pussy lips only to be met by a hot, stimulating cascade of water. My fingers soon joined the game. Tingles of excitement prickled my skin. I closed my eyes. Wilf's face flashed through my mind. I shuddered and came.

In bed, I snuggled under the covers. What had just happened replayed repeatedly in my mind. Even next day at work, during each lull in the emergency room activity or at coffee breaks, I found myself thinking of my exhibitionism and Wilf. By the end of the workday, I had worked myself into a state of erotic anticipation and anxiety.

As I turned the corner and saw my townhouse the car slowed and my nervousness grew. The crunch of the snow under the car tires seemed to scream "Turn around, go back!" I stopped in the driveway and waited for the garage door to open only to see Wilf's silhouette framed in the light of his open front door. He waved and I lowered the car window. "Still on for tonight?" he asked.

I found myself patting the plastic bags on the passenger seat and calling back. "I looking forward to it, neighbor." I could not believe my bravado. "See you around seven," I yelled out, waved and then eased the car into the garage.

The next 90 minutes was a roller coaster of eager anticipation and dread. At quarter to seven, I had the dining room table prepared but I was still not dressed. I rummaged through my closet, but I could not decide what to wear. I dashed down to the kitchen, grabbed a pen and paper, and scribbled a note. "Door's open. Come on in...I'm still getting ready." I taped it to the front door and ran back up the stairs. The bedroom bedlam remained. Outfits littered the room. The red cocktail dress, which I originally wanted to wear, lay in a heap on the bed with a broken zipper. The black slacks, my second choice, were in a pile on the floor. I had found stains on their front. I continued my search. Soon other dresses and slacks lay in disarray on the bed, all discarded choices. As I stood in the middle of this chaos dressed only in my red satin bathrobe, I heard the front door close and Wilf's voice. "Hi Helen, I'm here." His words sounded right out of a Seinfeld episode. I glanced at the bedside clock radio. It was 7:18. Wilf was politely late and I still was not ready.

I rushed out of the bedroom into the hallway and bent over the stair banister. The stairs to the second floor rose steeply to a landing and then doubled back on themselves. When I looked down from my position at the top of the stairs, my eyes met the expectant gaze of Wilf. "Sorry, I'm not ready," I pleaded, "but I still can't decide what to wear. I will be down in a..."

"You look absolutely fantastic from here." he interrupted with a laugh. "I brought some Okanagan Ice Wine. It should be served cold," he chided with a smile, twisted his head, and continued to gaze up at me. I blushed slightly when I realized that he now could probably see up my robe.

That thought thrilled me. I involuntarily found myself arching my back and pushing my pelvis against the banister. The view up my robe must have pleased Wilf because his grinned and his eyes sparkled as he remarked, "Your outfit is just fine, from here." I laughed coyly. Then he continued, "Come on down and enjoy some wine. I'm going to open it now." He disappeared from my view, as he headed to the kitchen. "Are the wine glasses in the cupboard beside the sink?" he called back.

"Yes," I replied hoarsely. I felt my horniness growing as I turned and hurried down the stairs.

Wilf held out a glass to me as I approached. The amber liquid was cold and sweet. I savored its flavor and placed the glass on the dining room table. Wilf was dressed in a simple blue-checkered shirt and jeans, which highlighted his sparkling blue eyes. His neatly trimmed grey beard framed his smile. He was probably in his sixties, but his frame was trim. I reached out and touched his face. His cheek was warm. Wilf placed his glass on the table and slipped into my arms.

I rose up on my toes and our lips met for the first time. Years of flirting and teasing melted away. I felt his warmth and passion flow through my body. Our tongues intertwined. My excitement grew as my fingers found the buttons of his shirt.

Wilf's jeans surrounded his ankles. My fingers sought out the elastic of his briefs and guided his white skivvies over his hard dick. A drop of precum oozed over his glans. My fingers delicately spread the clear liquid over his purple cock head. Then my lips swallowed the gleaming shaft. Wilf 's body stiffened and he gasped. He rhythmically pumped in and out of my mouth. I enjoyed his taste and sucked harder. My reward was a shudder and I swallowed gobs of Wilf's salty-sweet cum.

We rocked with laughter as I tried to extricate him from his shoes, socks, and pants. He was limp and not much help. Eventually we ended up in a heap on the floor. Wilf pressed against me. My robe opened exposing all of me to his first time close-up look. "Seems like time for dessert," Wilf teased. He cupped my breast, and bent forward to kiss my nipple.

While his lips felt terrific, I gently pushed his head back and cooed, "Dessert isn't served just yet." Disappointment filled his face as I scrambled to my feet and let my robe fall to the floor. I approached the dining room table grabbed his half full glass and handed it to him. He stared in bewilderment as I drained my wine glass, and then gave it to him. I steadied myself then crawled onto the table. The plastic tablecloth felt cold and clammy against my back. I reached back to the table corner and grabbed the can of whipped cream and the squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup. "Well mister, are you ready to make a chocolate sundae?" I asked in a husky whisper.

Wilf 's only reply was a sly smile and a lick of his lips.

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byodlum© 5 comments/ 39285 views/ 0 favorites

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