after dinner [mf][oral][pleasure denial][alcohol]

My first sexual story ever. I'm more of an idea-oriented guy, so this seemed like the place for me -- it sure isn't great literature. Too much time to think lately, and I've been thinking a lot about sex and my lack of it, might as well work on my writing skills before going back to school. One take, no edits. comments/crit welcome. Some events based on reality. Sex content starts at 4th paragraph. Warning: don't read if you don't appreciate slight, possibly bad attempts at humor. I like to have fun when I'm having my sex.

BEGIN: It's an anniversary, a birthday for either of us, or some other special event. We go out and have a nice dinner and a couple of drinks at an expensive restaurant. We were dressed up, me in my favorite suit and you in those sexy heels that aren't quite skyhigh, and the tight blue dress that makes your ass look 20 feet wide (in a good way). Your attire was approaching club-wear, and we got some stares from the snooty older generation. But you love the attention.

After fumbling with the lock because you were too busy pressing me up against the door and grabbing my ass and crotch, we stumble in. We are definitely bordering on the tipsy/drunk line, and feeling euphoric. "More alcohol?" we say in tandem. I head to the kitchen and yell, "Beer, wine, shot or mixed drink?" "Beer!" you respond, "and a PBR, not one of those shitty craft beers you made me try last night." I giggle to myself, thinking of how you still haven't quite outgrown your hipster tendencies. I take another for myself and bring the cans to the living room. When I get to the threshold, I stop in my tracks.

While I was in the other room, you turned the stereo on and started to dance the same slow, hypnotic dance to whatever rhythm or tempo came on. I bring you the beers and we open them and drink a bit. "Didn't you hear me say I wanted a shot?" You do this sometimes, and I know it's to annoy me. But tonight's different: I don't let it bother me because I have plans.

I go back to the kitchen to get the glasses and liquor. I come back, pour the shots out and we both take them. We dance together to the music for a bit before falling down on the couch together, starting to make out. I get on top of you and flip you over, smacking and grabbing your ass with both of my hands in the process. I unzip your dress and take off your bra. You weren't wearing any underwear out to dinner, per usual when you wear a dress or skirt. Now it's my turn, and you get on top, holding my wrists down and kissing me some more. Then you slowly disrobe me, pecking me with kisses and marks which will likely leave hickeys for the next few days. We race to go down on one another before my socks hit the floor.

Not letting either of us come, I stop and get up telling you, "get ready for your surprise." I come back from the kitchen and blindfold you, bringing two secret ingredients. "Here's a hint before your dessert," I say while slipping a maraschino cherry into your mouth and you keep my finger in your mouth for a little longer after that, sucking it and swirling your tongue around it. "A fucking Shirley Temple?" In the most corny delivery manageable, I say "No, your happy ending sundae." My finger is still in your mouth so it's not hard to swiftly open it, and stick myself in. My cock can be too thick for your small mouth sometimes, so I wince a bit as teeth catch the skin of my engorged purple head. You choke on laughter and cock, slap my thigh, and call me a few names in the process.

You wipe your face off with your hand and put it in your mouth. In this mood, you're up for anything. Your enthusiasm and talents at massaging and mouthing my shaved balls get me off in a record 2 minutes flat. As you're playing with the come in your mouth and rubbing your breasts, I lift you up by your armpit and take you to the kitchen, where I had placed a towel down and prepared my cock with the whipped cream before. I lay you down on the towel, saying it in the same delivery, "now it's time for my dessert." I squirt some whipped cream and chocolate syrup on you, as you laugh at how hokey and ridiculous the situation is. I smear the syrup all over you with my tongue and hands. I spend ample amounts of time on your sensitive breasts and inner thighs. I wipe a hand off with the towel and start to finger you and I put my lips around your clit and start to suck at it and flail it with my tongue. You moan, and your legs start to twitch. I spread the lips and am now licking your bare swollen clitoris. Your hips wrap around my head like a slowly tightening vice, and you dig your toenails into my back, both actions making me hard again. I start stroking my dick with my other hand (I find out that the syrup works well as a lube from the male perspective).

As soon as you're about to come and squirt all over my face, I stop. "Not yet," I say, as I help you stand. You slip a little bit on the chocolate and walk into a door, but we find our way to the bathroom in the same moods as before. A hot, steamy bath is waiting for us in there, and you're shocked. "How?!" I texted that mutual female friend of ours -- who wants to have a threesome with us but you're still hesitant -- before we got on the subway to go home. I paid her an expensive bottle of wine from South Africa. I won't tell you this.

I continue the rest in another post, because this is starting to get long and I don't want to lose your attention.