Food Play

That woman could wrap her lips around anything and I'd get hard. Right now, that certain something is the button-red globe of a cherry, still on its stem. The juxtaposition of color, the natural rouge of the fruit against the glistening bubble-gum gloss of her full, hot lips drives me wild. She's watching me across the table, her blond hair up elegantly, her makeup exquisite, and the neckline of her dark green gown plunging and inviting. But I can't look away from her mouth and she knows it.

We're at a business dinner and we must all behave. And she is, in the eyes of everyone else. That's simply how you eat cherries, and there happens to be a bowl full of fresh ones available at the table. It's only when she catches me looking does she kiss the shiny, taut red skin of the little fruit slowly before letting it slip inside, the globe pulled gently from its green stem until the two part. And, inevitably, her throat works, making my black suit slacks grow a little tighter, just before she lifts two fingers to her lips to receive the little pit for disposal.

Thank God she's well practiced at teasing me, because she allows me a good fifteen minutes to cool down before we all rise from our seats to bid each other goodnight. We're all out at a conference, housed comfortably in the hotel down the street. A few of my coworkers group together and head downtown towards a bar, while this talented woman named Nancy (who happens to be my fiancé) and I walk arm in arm back to our room at the Marriott.

The whole way there we make chit chat, discussing the mood of my coworkers and bosses. Times are good and my standing in the company is such that I'm pretty sure I'll be getting a promotion soon. We're both looking forward to a bright future full of mundane prizes like our own house, two cars, and all the rest. Of course, once I slip the key card into the slot, our vanilla future gives way to our kinky present.

Nancy's back hits the inside of the door and shuts it with a thud, and I'm right there in a moment, pressing against her and kissing her hungrily. The flavor of the cherries is still on her tongue, and she allows me to touch her and taste her for a good thirty seconds before she grips my belt and twists it. That's our code - that means that it's officially Nancy Time.

And just what is Nancy Time? Oh, only the most splendid thing I can hope to experience. Immediately I move away from her and wait obediently as she pulls away from the door, and I follow along as she tugs me to the bed by my pants. With a light push she guides me to sit, and then to lie down before my hands are moved to lace their fingers behind my head. It's a will-based bondage that I don't dare break. As she's cautioned before, moving out of the positions she sets me in stops the game entirely.

I've tested the theory once., and only once. That was a rough night.

Tonight, however, I'm eager to comply, my pants already tenting again as she slowly gets ready. She undresses for me as if I'm not even there, her eyes never falling on me, and her movements just the same as if she were taking the dress off in a private room. The lack of direct titillation does something to me, like I'm some creepy voyeur. Don't ask me to try and explain how convoluted my desires are - I couldn't even begin to tell you. But what I can tell you is that they begin and end with Nancy, hence the engagement.

She steps into the bathroom and I can hear the water running. I groan and smile as I listen to her take a shower, and short as it is I feel like it's taking forever. I'm so fucking horny and I can't even touch my own cock! I'm not even out of my suit! The wait, however, is always worth it, and so I wait like a good boy.

And I am so rewarded.

Nancy emerges from the bathroom, her blond hair slicked back and flowing down the nape of her neck and back like golden ribbon candy. Her skin is like cream, smooth and perfect, and her smooth pussy is blushing, warm, and wet like a peach. Without a word she crawls up onto the bed from behind me, and as I look up I see her pass over me - her chin, her throat, her breasts, her toned stomach. And then, in the warm darkness between her thighs I'm allowed to taste her sweetness. My tongue slides delicately over her petals, tasting the first hints of her nectar. I know the dance well - no penetration, and no teasing her clit. That comes later, like the both of us will.

As I kiss and lick I can feel her hands undressing me. My belt slides out from the belt loops of my slacks, and the semi-pliant leather is worked free of the buckle. The two hooks at the top of my fly are undone, and the zipper is guided down to reveal my black underpants. And, bless Nancy, she slides her hand into the fly and finally touches me.

I can't help but arch my back and moan into her flesh. My cock is aching for her by now, and there's a brief moment that I worry I won't last if she were to kiss me like she kissed those cherries. Tonight, however, she wants to make things last, and so I am simply dry stroked for a while, gentle and slow as a reward for having behaved while she got ready.

This doesn't mean that I don't fuss a little when she moves away from me. My whimpers and soft pleas are somewhat inarticulate, given how I'm sliding my tongue along my lips at the same time to greedily collect every drop of her flavor. Nancy just smiles but otherwise ignores me as she opens one of the bureau drawers and takes out the duffel bag.

This unassuming little black canvas sausage with red canvas straps is only two feet long and maybe one foot in diameter. It's usually hooked on to the long handle of our carry one wheeled bag, so no one thinks anything of it when we check in or out. But as she opens it now my heart begins to race and my cheeks flush. I know every inch of that bag, and I know it was restocked this morning. Sometimes when she's still at work and I get a day off, I sift through the contents of it, touching them with my left hand while I jerk off with my right.

So you can imagine my excitement when she starts to pull out her choices for the night. A pair of leather wrist cuffs to ensure my obedience (oh God, she's pulling out the big guns if she needs that to keep me well behaved), a little jar of honey, a squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup, a few small nips bottles of vodka, and a cylindrical object wrapped in a plastic grocery bag.

Even though my cock is leaking at the sight of all this, I still lie flat on my back, cheeks flushed. Nancy just leaves her selections displayed on the bed as I stare at them, giving her time to unbutton my shirt and undress me completely. There's no sense risking my nice business clothes while we play. Once I'm completely naked she orders me to go take a shower. My stomach coils like I've been rejected, but tonight I'm a little forgetful from my lust. Of course I should shower. It'd be unfair for her to be delicious and pristine while I'm wafting up the funk of ball sweat. I'm off the bed and in the shower within moments.

Inevitably my erection softens a little, but it'll come back. I know it will. Man, seeing Nancy, naked on the bed and ready to work me over with that selection of delights? I shiver as I towel off despite the steamy heat of the bathroom. By the time I'm back out in the room, Nancy guides me to lie back on the bed, though this time she puts the cuffs on my wrists. It's not severe bondage - I could still reach my cock if I wanted, or reach out to touch her - but it does serve as a more physical reminder to behave.

And I do behave, even when my cock jumps to see her unwrap the thin white plastic bag from the fresh cucumber she got at the store this morning before we caught our flight. I can tell it's been washed clean already given how the green skin gleams. She pulls out a utility knife, and while looking me in the eye she clips the stem tip from the end. My cock twitches and deflates a little, but grows hard all over again when she starts to slide her tongue along that end.

"You remember the shape I like, don't you, Baby?" she purrs, smiling devilishly as she caresses the green skin over her lower lip.

I can only nod wordlessly, and my stomach tightens and my hands clench into excited fists when she lowers the vegetable's tip to my mouth. And then I start nibbling. I'm like a slow lathe, or maybe a rabbit, as I take little bites from the end of the vegetable to shape it so that it resembles a cock. We've done this quite a number of times, and I'm fairly proud of the results. They get more realistic every time. When I'm done, and my mouth tastes pleasantly of sweet, cool cucumber, Nancy presses a kiss to my forehead and coos her praise for my skill.

And now on to stage two of Nancy Time.

Now I'm allowed to decorate her as she lies down on her back, legs spread and bent at the knee as she starts sliding the nibbled, shaped end of the cucumber along her pussy. Her stomach tenses and jumps - the veggie's certainly a lot colder than she is, and I can see her mouth pull into a hissing, amused smile at her own skittishness. I know she's turned on as Hell, just like me, so I take up the squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup and sit up beside her.

And now I begin with my art. Nancy's a champ at staying still, far better than I am, and so when I delicately squeeze out a thin stream of the dark syrup onto her skin the pattern is immaculate thanks to my unmoving canvas. Beautiful flowers and vines in dark brown coil about her breasts and stomach. I take the less-is-more approach, and go for an elegant design rather than splattering her with globs of the stuff.

"You're so beautiful, Nancy" I breathe, decorating her nipples with one dark daisy each. That makes her blush and smile shyly. My beloved Nancy, so in charge, and so demure when I tell her just how lovely she is. And when I cap the bottle and put it aside, she knows it's time.

My mouth descends upon one of those dark daisies reverently as her body tenses and arches a little, the cool shaft of the cucumber pushing into her pussy by her own hand. I feel her nipples tense even tighter beneath my tongue as I lick and suck the design away, taking my time. We have all the time in the world, tonight. I can hear her breathing quicken, and her free hand rests on my thigh as a gauge for how aroused she is.

And she's damn aroused. Both her breasts are clean, and I begin to slide my tongue down her sweet ribs towards her stomach. The hand on my thigh clutches even harder - she knows what's awaiting her. Almost all of the design has been sweetly consumed, leaving her skin wet and glistening in places to cool and dry in the warm hotel room air.

"R...Robert" she breathes, calling my name. Oh yes, she's well and truly on fire.

But I don't stop. How could I possibly stop? The last lines of the design end at her mons, and I slowly, evilly tease with licks so glacially slow that she actually whines pathetically and begs me to continue. That makes my cock almost painfully hard, hearing her need me so desperately to go on. Being a good fiancée, I do continue. My tongue finally, finally slides down along the top of her slit, and I can feel her stiff clit and taste the cucumber mixed with the flavor of her desire.

There is no mercy. I flutter and roll and rub my tongue along her pearl with cruel firmness, and I can feel her hand grip the back of my head, fingers gripping my short, smart haircut.

"Robert!" she cries, and just after that her body tenses and arches, her pussy gripping the vegetable as her hand grips me. I wait until she calms down and releases me, and I rest on my elbow to watch her and revel in her satisfaction. She's never more beautiful than when she's just cum hard, and I feel great pride in getting her there. Ours is a kink that's a bit hard to find a match for, all told, and I always thank my lucky stars for having gotten us together.

But, of course we aren't done. There's still my own needs to see to, and like a good and loving partner she rouses herself after a while to begin stage three of Nancy Time.

Like I said, being made to wait turns me on. In the BDSM scene I guess some people would say I'm the submissive. But we don't really put names to that sort of thing. There are times when Nancy Time involves bondage only for her and I'm the one in charge - we like to switch it up and get creative when we can. Being of modest means, well, a trip for supplies at the grocery store is a lot more affordable than a shopping spree at the local leather boutique.

In any case, the cucumber is withdrawn slowly and handed to me as a treat, and I lazily suck on it like a Popsicle while Nancy rouses herself and stretches. It's nice to have a little snack that tastes like her, and I bite off bits of it, chew, and swallow, tasting her cum and the sweetness of the cuke coat my tongue. Am I a lucky man or what, folks? With a smile, Nancy straddles my shoulders, and I set the vegetable aside on the bed.

Why? Because now we're going to do shots.

I grin and prop myself up on an elbow, and her left hand cups the back of my skull to help keep me in place as I kiss her sex again. The other holds the first little nip of vodka, and with my tongue sliding up midway along her pussy, she allows a trickle to slide down over her mons, over her delicious, slick petals, and into my mouth. When the bottle's empty I suck and lick quickly - I wouldn't want the alcohol to burn her. You must be careful about these things. That she's cum already gives her a bit of protection, so we do another shot, and then another. Every swipe of my tongue over her sensitized flesh makes her shiver and giggle, and I'm getting pretty buzzed.

Yeah, I'm a light weight. But go ahead and tease me - I'm doing body shots. What are you doing?

We're out of nips and I'm feeling that happy glow in my belly from the vodka, and Nancy lets me lie down on my back again. She's away to the bathroom to wash up a little between the legs, just to keep things clean, and I hum happily, letting the alcohol relax me even further. Three shots isn't enough to give me whiskey dick (vodka dick?), so when she emerges from the bathroom again I'm still saluting, so to speak.

"Baby, I love you" I murmur, curling my toes.

Drawing her finger up along the underside of my prick, she grins. "I know."

And then she reaches for the little jar of honey. I groan happily at just the sight of it, and she smiles at my anticipation. This is the best part of Nancy Time, to be honest. Part four.

The cap is twisted off, and she carefully tips the little jar so that a slender drizzle of the golden syrup decorates my cock. I'm shaved smooth for just this reason, and my sack tightens up even as the cool, gentle feel of that sweetness on my shaft. Her designs are more simple than mine, but she has a smaller canvas to work on than I did. The jar is capped and set aside, and I close my eyes and lace my fingers behind my head as she sees lowers her head.

At first I close my eyes and don't look, because I want to focus on how it feels. Her hot, firm tongue slowly traces that little drizzling line from the bottom of my shaft, coiling around it, following it. Every so often she withdraws her tongue to swallow down what she's gathered up, and my cock always twitches, begging her not to stop. Higher and higher her tongue goes, and by the time she runs out of honey, just below my cap, I open my hazy eyes to look.

Just at the right time too because those pink lips (oh god, she put her lipstick back on. Oh, bless you, Nancy) do to me what they were doing to those cherries, and her eyes lock on to mine with a smoldering, possessive look. My breath catches in my chest as I watch her sink down and back up, taking more of me each time, lower and lower, until finally her eyes close and she takes it all.

I'm not a huge man, but still... Nancy is a queen at this. She's so good. I can feel my crown squeeze and slide over the slippery, tight, molten rise at the back of her tongue and push further, rubbing against something softer. It doesn't last long each time, but there are many times that she takes me all the way before withdrawing and sucking greedily at me. Her head bobs, her pink, perfect lips sliding along my shaft and making it slick. I can feel her hand massage my sack and grip it, again possessively, and I writhe on the bed.

"Nancy, oh fuck... I'm close, baby."

She knows what that means. If she doesn't want to swallow, she'll pull away and jerk me to the end. And if she does...

Her mouth stays on my cock, sucking harder than before, taking me deeper for longer and more often. A hot, rumbling groan buzzes from her throat right into my dick, and I clench my teeth, so fucking close. My hips move a little, until finally everything tenses and I shoot my load right into her throat. Swallow after swallow takes down jet after jet, and I'm breathing ragged like someone who's just come up for air in a pool.

"Nancy! Oh God! Oh Fuck!" I cry, not really knowing what I'm saying. I just have to say something. It's so good. It's so unbelievably good.

In time I soften, completely spent. My soft dick slips from her mouth, and like a tease she licks it back into her lips for one last, gentle, sucking, playful tug.

"Nancyyyy" I whine, finding it nearly impossible to lay still and behave when she's doing that.

My dick is finally allowed to rest wetly on my thigh, and she coos "I'm sorry baby. You taste so good."

We're both too tired for a shower, which is what the baby wipes in the bag are for. And after that? We pass right the hell out, cuddled together, comfortable and satisfied.

God but I do love Nancy Time.