Summer Vignettes: Popsicle

It's scorching outside. She's feeling hot and naughty. The jingle of the ice cream man draws her away from her house and down the block, but she is dawdling due to the heat. Her long, blonde hair sways smoothly. She is constantly pushing it out of the way of her clear green eyes and freckled face. Her hips swing in a lazy, seductive tempo. She is twenty, curvaceous, and as deadly as the sun's beating rays.

Her feet are bare as she pads down the hot sidewalk to the park where she knows the ice cream truck will stop. She's wearing a simple yellow dress with a pocket on the chest. Her nipples are visible through the cotton. She is one of summer's simple pleasures.

"Hey precious," the ice cream man greets her, leering, suggesting something of the past or future between them.

"Hello friend," she returns. Her fingers graze her breast while she gets her money from her pocket, lingering, teasing her, the man, or both. She exchanges her dollar for the popsicle and walks off.

In the park there are two paths. The main path leads to playgrounds and strollers; the offbeat leads to cigarettes and seduction. She chooses the second.

She lets the straps of her dress fall off her shoulders as she walks. The dress slides slightly down her chest, but her breasts are high and round and prevent it from falling far.

She settles on a picnic table that is slightly out of the way, but she knows that soon there will be spectators. She is sitting on the table, her feet on the bench in front of her. Her legs are parted, letting a breeze pass under her skirt.

She unwraps the popsicle with anticipation, looking for relief from the heat.

The popsicle is bright red, cherry flavored, and strings of sticky sugar stretch from the popsicle to the wrapper as she pulls it away. She delicately removes the paper, then crumples it in her hand and pitches the wad in the trashcan. The sun glares off the popsicle, long and glistening. There is no question about the phallic nature.

She's gotten her hands messy already. She licks one hand, tasting the sweetness from there first before tasting the actual popsicle.

There are some college boys her age strolling by in cutoff shorts with skateboards just as she takes her first lick, slowly around the base of the popsicle to catch the drops of sliding liquid. One catches a glimpse of her pink tongue slipping out of her mouth and stops in his tracks. The others soon see what he is staring at, and one wink from the girl has the three boys forming a semi-circle around her to watch the show.

They take her in, each with one careful eye on her pretty mouth wrapping itself around the popsicle, the other taking in the rest of her. Her legs are long and tan, her body toned. She is leaning forward as she slurps, merely grinning when drops of melting red juice slide down her cleavage.

She pushes farther, tantalizingly taking much of the cherry red shaft into her mouth. Her legs cross and uncross, sliding the dress farther up to expose more of her legs, thighs, and nearly crotch. There is almost a collective gasp as she runs her fingers down her front, then flips the dress up completely. Her lips are shaved bare; a triangle of slightly unruly blonde hair rests above it. She is glistening with desire; she's enjoying the show, too.

Her game with the popsicle continues, licking the underside of it and swirling her tongue around the tip. Her skin is glowing in the sun; her sundress is looking disheveled, sweat and popsicle juice dampening it. She begins to stroke her pussy gently, all the while sucking admirably.

Her fingers play with her hood, first, then her palm strokes her little nest of blonde hair and then runs back above her clit. The boys are all shifting uncomfortably, plunging hands into pockets, rubbing alongside zippers. The redheaded boy is the first to unzip his fly. She barely notices as he pulls his cock out and strokes it in front of her; she continues to put on her performance, concentrating on licking what she has in front of her.

A piece of the popsicle breaks off in her mouth as the form starts to wear away. She giggles, lets the juice leak over her fingers, then lowers the broken piece to her pussy. She rubs it up and down her lower lips, staining them pink like her tongue, her cheeks flushed in the sun, her mouth. It's cold against her sensitive parts and she shivers like she likes it, like it's refreshing.

All three boys are stroking their cocks mercilessly, ogling the creature in front of them. None has said a word, but four voices pant in unison.

The broken piece of popsicle has melted, the sticky liquid joining her flowing juices as she plays with herself more. Her nipples are even more pronounced against the cotton of her dress, and her face begins to change as she comes closer to climax.

She stops sucking the popsicle, spreads her pussy with two fingers on one hand. She rubs the cold shaft over her clit, then spreads herself farther and allows it to enter her pussy. She dips it in and out for a few strokes; it melts quickly within her hot cavity. When it has broken apart she drops the stick onto the table, grabs a remaining fraction and rubs it over her clit again and again, leaning back against the table for support as she cums silently.

There is a groan from one of the boys, and all three of them have cum by the time she has recovered from her own orgasm. She licks her fingers once again, pulls her dress down over her sticky thighs, and saunters back down the path she came from.