Baked Peaches Pt. 01: Pregame

It's 10 PM and my heart is racing. I've been waiting all day to see you and I know you're finally finishing up work now. Soon you'll be on your way over. Ever since you said you wanted to come to my place to pregame before your 27th birthday party, I'm the luckiest guy alive and I've been wanting to give you a present that shows exactly how I feel.

Since I finish work earlier than you, I've had a few hours to think about what I should do to prepare for the pregame. It was so hard to focus at school today. I kept hoping no one would see the throbbing bulge trapped in my pants. As much as I tried to think of something else, the memory of the last time we were together kept invading my thoughts. I know it's not professional, but I can't control myself when I think of you - you turn me on so much.

Right when I get home, I unbuckle my pants, pull my slacks down over my firm and muscular ass. My hulking hard-on bulges obscenely in my underwear and I immediately put my hand down to massage my swollen balls and my throbbing member as I make a b-line for the bed. I lie down, stripping off my undies and letting my cock spring forward like a buoy. With one hand on my phone and the other hand full of heavy dick meat, I pull up the last nude you sent me. I take in the sight of your inviting, supple tits and slowly stroke myself, firmly and fully. I pull my skin to the bottom slowly and hold it tight, teasing myself over you, engorging my cockhead and watching the color slowly deepen. I am surprised how fast the sides of my dick get wet, slick with salty self-lube at the very thought of you and sight of your beautiful, suckable tits.

I swipe to the next pic. You snapped this one from up high so I can see your jet black hair cascading over your breasts. Your curvy hips fill most of the bottom of the frame and I can just barely see the mound of your vagina. I moan. God, you're so fucking sexy. My cock is pounding in my palm and I feel a stirring at the base of my cock. I don't want to cum yet...but you make it so easy, sending me such hot, naughty photos. I turn my head away to reflect on how much fun we have together and how lucky I am to have this thing, whatever it is, going with you. It's hot, fun, and special. A huge dollop of clear fluid appears from my sensitive dickhole, coaxing me to look back at my phone and slowly jerk myself off to the sight of you.

No, I can't look at your tits anymore! I'm running out of time! I need to think of your birthday present and quick. I know you well now and I know what you like. I laugh at the thought - you're so dirty - in all the time we've spent together, I know the thing you like the most...a hard fucking dick the size of a cucumber jammed down your sucking, slutty throat.

Haha, I think to myself. But I can't ONLY give you THAT for your birthday - I wanna do something special. So I think about other stuff you like...

Hmmm, well, you eat a lot of fruit...maybe I should do something related to that. But that's too easy...I can't give you JUST fruit, either. Oh, I know - a fruit desert, something with a little effort and finesse. I want to make you just the right thing, something that says it all, something that says how much you mean to me, something to let you to know how hard I get every time I think of you, how much my cock aches at the thought of being touched by you, gripped by you...sucked by you.

Yeah, that's the move. A fruit desert, not too big, not too complicated. Something elegant and easy-going, like you. I start looking up recipes while continuing to pull my slippery foreskin tautly up and down on my massive pole. Suddenly my phone screen smears and I can't read. What the heck? What is that? *sniff* Is that...cum...WTF? Theres so much pre-cum flowing from my dick that it's getting on both my hands and I accidentally smeared the screen with it. Fuck, you make me so hot. A sudden flashback of my hand grabbing your pony-tail while your head bounces up and down on my lap flashes through my mind and I nearly cum.

In an amazing display of willpower and personal sacrifice, I hold my hands up and away from my messy cock. It's so drooly now and I want to cum so badly, but I don't wanna waste this load. It's going in a special place. Besides, I haven't found what I'm looking for yet and I should stay focused on the task at hand. I keep scrolling, absent-mindedly putting my thumb in my mouth while I browse the recipe site, tonguing my own pre-cum off the pad of my thumb. I know it's gross but I don't care. I'm dirty for you. I want to be gross for you - it just makes me hornier and hornier. I pull up the rim of my undies, tucking my fat dick almost painfully inside. Suddenly, I see the perfect recipe and smile...

A little over thirty minutes later, the oven bell dings. They're ready. I open the door and take a look. Fuck yeah, they're perfect. Soft, caramelized orange flesh surrounds the pink center of four moist, glistening peach halves which I economically procured from a trip to the fruit market up the street. I take a second to marvel at the sight of them. Immediately, they remind me of your gorgeous pussy. When it's wet, it glistens and shines just like these steamy baked peaches. I dream of putting my mouth on your delicious pussy while looking at the peaches and I wonder which tastes sweeter.

I glance at my tablet. 1040 - you'll be here any minute now. I quickly prepare the final, secret ingredient which I hide in a discreet location on the kitchen counter. My phone dings. You're here. Just on time. I go to the bathroom to check myself in the mirror once, brushing my sandy blond hair over my handsome chiseled features. My heart is pounding. I smile at the mirror, and I feel stupid. I have a dumb smile. Then I remember you don't ever say I have a dumb smile. In fact, I'm sure you like my smile and I get a lot of confidence from that. You're so supportive of me...and it seems like I support you too. We're just so good together...Fuck, I just want to fucking explode cum inside of you all the time. I really want you to have a great birthday party tonight and it all starts with this pregame and these baked peaches and a little something else...something creamy.

The door opens and you're standing there. You've got that birthday glow. I can tell you've had a great day. I'm guessing it's because you're so loveable that you've been getting compliments, well wishes and good vibes from people all day long. "Hi!," you cheer, flashing the smile of a true winner.

My knees get weak but I try to play it cool. "Heyyy, how was your day?" I ask.

"So good! What's that smell?" You smile so widely. Your joyous curiosity illuminates the room and I catch a proximity high from that smile.

Finally, it's my chance to show you. "I baked peaches for your birthday!" I'm nearly shouting. I'm so confident you'll love my peaches, I can barely contain my excitement and automatically pass you a small plate with a warm, aromatic peach.

With any other visitor to my home, I would ask if they were hungry before passing them food... but I know you: you're a hungry one.

The peach shines, shimmering in its own juices. You look at me with such gratefulness...and.... something more. I'm caught off guard. I can't remember what I was doing. Why do I always get lost like this when I look in your eyes?

"I've never had a baked peach before!" you say. I'm back to reality now. Oh yeah, we're about to eat together.

"Happy birthday."

"Thanks! Is this baked peach my present?" you ask. "I'm so happy to receive it!"

"Haha," I say in a low, sexy voice. "You'll be receiving more than that." I smile mischievously. Oh yes, you'll be receiving a lot more.

You're standing between me and the counter so I have to reach over your shoulder to get that final secret ingredient. Our bodies are closer now. For a fleeting moment, your body heat pushes against me and I catch the scent of your hair. Behind you, my hand closes on hard rubber attached to cold steel. Oh yeah, you're going to love this.

The scoop slides through vanilla bean. The ice cream is the perfect temperature, soft, yielding and welcoming of its violation. Getting the perfect scoop of ice cream isn't an easy task, but I am happy to go the extra mile for you. I take my time, scooping with one hand while I gently place a firm hand on your waist. As I'm sort of awkwardly scooping ice cream with the arm that's reaching behind you, I lean in closer. You aren't sure what's going on, but I can see you're pleased I'm suddenly in your space. Your lips drift toward mine...but I shy away. Not just yet. I need to focus on applying just the right pressure to the scoop and the carton of ice cream which threatens to scoot away on the counter if I accidentally press too hard from the wrong angle.

When you realize I'm not leaning in for a kiss, you suspect my hidden agenda. "What are you doing?"

I feel the resistance of the ice cream against the scoop disappear. I whisper: "Shhhh." Taking a step back, I notice how cute you look while holding the baked peach on the small plate daintily in your hand while I shift my body around you. I slowly place the scoop of vanilla perfectly in the steaming hole of your peach and it instantly begins to melt.

As a white drip of sugary sweetness falls from the round globe of cream, it catches in the well baked, supple skin of the peach. Your eyes widen and a guttural moan escapes your lips. The sound is a harmonious, animalistic symphony of surprise, desire and anticipation. "Uhhhhh." It vibrates in my pelvis. My cock twitches in my pants, ever so slightly, aroused by the lusty evocation.

"That looks so...fucking...GOOD!" What begins as a whispered utterance transforms into and shriek and you lift the birthday treat to your wanton hole.

"Do you want a spoon?" I ask merely out of habit, knowing it's a pointless question. Of course you don't - you're not that type of girl. I don't know where my head was at. I just can't think straight watching the vulgar desert poised at the maw of pleasure that is your heavenly mouth.

You laugh: "Of course not!" The reply is muffled as you have already inserted the confection to consume it. Your eyes roll back into your head at the taste of my peach. Your edges of your front teeth pass through through the giving, cool cream and your lips close. If you chew, I can't tell. God, you're an animal. An immediate, desperate swallow precedes a momentary lapse of control and you close your eyes.

"Mmmm," you groan. The sound is deep and raw. "Soooo goooood." Before I can respond, you force the remaining half down your throat. "Ohhh, fucckk yeahhh."

I'm smiling so much. I love it when you lose control. Suddenly, you grab your head. "Ahh...ahhhohhh no!!" You double over and I kneel down to embrace you.

"Birthday brain freeze!" I say boyishly.

"This always happens!" You cry. "Oh, why am I such a whore for ice cream!?" My hand is on your back. I can feel your bra strap on my palm and your silky hair on my knuckles. The feelings are too much when combined with the dirty word you spoke and my cock swells instantly.

"Press your tongue to the roof of your mouth," I suggest. You stay bent over, face to the floor and holding your head. I keep rubbing your back in commiseration, thankful for the excuse to touch you. A moment passes before finally you get relief.

"Okay, it's gone," I hear you say to the floor. "Thanks, Bry." I still can't see your face, but there's no mistaking when you say my name that something in your voice has changed. When you finally stand again and look at me, I can see what you want.

The way you are look into my eyes, holding the gaze, mouth slightly agape. I'm so hard for you now. "Do you want the other half?" I say, but it's just to fill the air. I know your answer. You spring on me, wrapping your arms around my neck and broad, burly shoulders at the same moment I instinctively fold you into my strong, manly embrace. The synchronicity of our actions is a post-linguistic expression of our wordless passion. At long last, our lips press together.

Though the history of our kisses is filled with epics of tender sweetness, now is not the time for that. Save for the remnants of vanilla bean on your lips, there is no sweetness in this kiss. It is fierce and probing, animated by the shared understanding that our sole purpose right now is to jam our tongues down each others' throats as far as possible. From across the room, an old person or even a young person with below average sight would have difficulty distinguishing between our bodies. To the enfeebled eye, we would appear only as a single writhing mass, caressing itself steamily.

Our torsos are stable, locked together as they are in a grip of true yearning. Our lower halves, on the other hand, are getting weak. You straddle one of my powerful thighs, humping your quickly wettening mound against it.

You always wear pants to work that are far too tight for your boss' liking, but I like them just fine. Your spandexed vagina undulates shamelessly against my firm, trunklike leg. I know what a dirty girl you are and I know how wet you are by now. Our pelvises mash as we make out, my hands planted squarely on your full, delicious bubble butt as I mercilessly slam your delicate frame against mine over and over. This train is quickly leaving Wantsville - every forceful pounding of our fit young bodies hurdles us farther and farther into Needtown.

Your hand drops to my waist, to the place just above my powerful thigh. You can feel the shape of my humongous manhood. It is a monster, caged in a denim prison, violently spouting pre-ejaculatory fluid like a mama bird regurgitating to feed her children. Your tongue pushes further into my mouth as your fingers splay over my hefty penis, feeling the edges of it through the rough texture of the jeans. You press your palm it in a way that says "this belongs to me" as you slowly, deliberately rub it from top to bottom. The tips of your fingernails lightly scratch the base of my bulbous cockhead through my jeans and I moan into your mouth.

"You want me to suck you off?" you ask. I nearly cum right then. Its such a filthy fucking phrase and I get high at the sound of it coming from your slutty little mouth. "I need to taste you," you say.

There's nothing more I want right now then to force you to your knees, unbuckle my pants and plunge my turgid prick into the capable wetness of your dirty-talking fuck-hole, to feel your tongue bathing the underside of my cock while I push your head forward and fill every cubic centimeter of your oral cavity with pulsing, hard dick. There's nothing I want more than to let you suck the gushing precum from my dickhole before I finally explode, dumping my huge salty load into your greedy fucking core. But wait... actually, there IS something I want more...

"But that's not fair," I tease. "You already got to taste something," I say, referring to the baked peach. I wonder if you'll even get what I'm saying. I can scarce remember the peach myself now. Seems like a lifetime ago when you ate it...before the dizzying, timeless make out we just had erased my sense of time.

You ignore me, insatiably pawing at my belt buckle and zipper. I grab your wrist. "No!" I say forcefully.

"But it's my birthday," you whine.

One hand reaches to the back of your head, pulling your hair back so you're forced to look away from my hypnotic package and into my eyes. I put my other hand firmly between your legs. Through your tight pants, I trace the edges of your trembling pussy with my fingers while maintaining steady upward pressure with my palm. A single whimper escapes you. I can feel how wet you are. You're such a fucking slut. "I don't care what fucking day it is. You had your peach...and now I want mine."

In a single sweep, I lift you in my arms and walk you to the bed. I do not deposit you gently, like a groom laying down his new bride. No, I throw you on the bed with the brute force of a caveman, singularly minded, driven only by his lustiest primal urges.

You are on your back and your legs are hanging off the edge. "Lift your shirt, slut. I want to see those tits." You comply without thinking, mindlessly jerking your t-shirt up over your heaving bosom. "Bra," I say breathlessly. In a second, you do as I say and your bra is on the floor. Your mountainous tits are exposed to the air and my wishes. I can see your nipples hardening. "Get those nipples hard, you dirty girl. Yeah, you're such a fucking slut, aren't you?"

You moan and your legs writhe on the bed. "Aren't you!?" I yell playfully.

"Yes!" you pant.

"Say it!" I order.

"I'm a dirty fucking slut! I'm a dirty fucking slut - Oh, I'm such a dirty fucking slut for you, Bryan - I want to drink your cum!" The words fly out without hesitation and my eyebrow raises at your impromptu addition. Some sluts are trained. Some are naturals. I know which one you are..."Play with your tits," I command. Again, you comply without shame, feverishly fondling your huge titties like a sex-starved animal.

I watch you and smile, surprised to feel my cock can still get harder. This is getting dire - if I don't enact my plan now, I fear I'll be overtaken by my body's imperative to ravage you this instant. I compose myself and slowly kneel down by your legs, lightly tracing the beautiful silhouette of your pussy lips as they puff against your tight pants "Is your pussy wet?" I tease.

"Yes, yes, it's so fucking wet! Oh god, fuck me now. Fuck me, Bryan!"

"Heh heh heh," I reply. "Not yet, birthday slut. I need something from you first."

I give in to my lust for you, and unleash a typhoon of sexual frustration on your clothes. With both my strong hands firmly pressed against your needy pussy, I find the huge wet patch, the area just below your pussy where you've drenched everything including your virgin asshole. With one finger, I press upward, forcing the fabric into your needy, sopping pussy, intentionally rubbing my knuckle across your heretofor neglected clit and you gasp.

Slowly, I play with your pussy by probing it with the single, spandexed digit. You moan and I find what Im looking for, a weak spot in the material. I reach my other hand over to catch the wrinkle of the fabric and then tear your pants with no regard for their future use. A brief concern for how much you paid for those pants pierces my lustful veil, but then I'm like fuck it...there were a hundred thousand generations of animal instinct behind that tear and it's unfortunate that your spandex pants were not enough to withstand them.

The black material opens, revealing your creamy thighs and beautiful wet vagina. Small drops of shiny clear fluid dot the downy tuft of hair which covers your mons. Your thighs are slick and shiny. "Holy fuck," I whisper before, finally, urgently plunging my tongue into your smoldering hot womanhood.

Once I taste you, my lust transforms from an air flame inferno to a smoldering bed of sexy embers. "Uhhhhh," I moan. You taste so fucking good. I abuse your pussy with long, deep tonguing. My head reels. My cock rages against my jeans, painfully hot for you. I lap you like a dog while dry humping the side of the bed for some bit of relief. Jesus, I'm going to soak my pants and then I'll have to change them before the party. Well, who cares...you're going to need new pants too after I just tore a huge hole in them in a fit of ancient instinct. Why am I thinking about this now? I should just enjoy the moment. There is a god, and i'm making out with it.

I take my time, giving attention every centimeter of your perfect pussy, gingerly dancing around your engorged clit but never touching it it. I know you want me to kiss it. I know you want the relief of my tongue slavishly worshipping your budding pleasure trigger, but not yet. You are so turned on right now that your pussy is literally gushing and first I need to get my fill. I won't be satisfied until I choke on your girl-cum.