Sinful desires{steamiest short stories}

“Food is love” goes a popular saying, and no one knows that better than me, though I might change it to “food is love and sex and friendship and seduction.” I can’t seem to ever visit anyone or have a date without wanting to feed my lover, and the sweeter the offering, the better.

It’s not just the Jewish mother in me that gets off on serving up delectable goodies along with my voluminous breasts and eager-to-please mouth. It’s more that I want my lovers to be fully satisfied; I want to fill them up in every way I know how.

I want to make them scream and moan and smile and purr, want to offer them my body to suckle and taste, but when they’re done with me, I want to give them something more-something sweet, something they can savor, that will stay on their tongues after our kisses end and remind them of the good times we’ve had. I’m like that even with friends, but with lovers, I become a sugar mama par excellence.

Take my latest boyfriend, Todd. We met at a wine tasting, where we soon found ourselves bored with all the pretentious posers around us and headed off to a greasy diner to enjoy beers and burgers.

We each savored our meals, eating slowly so as to maximize the pleasure we got from each bite, and I found myself getting turned on watching him dip each french fry slowly, almost sensually, into the pile of ketchup he’d poured onto his plate. But my panties really got soaked when the waiter came around and asked what we wanted for dessert.

I was content with a cup of tea, was even considering splurging on a hot chocolate, when Todd announced that we’d be sharing the banana split, then grinned at me as the waiter walked away.

I was about to protest, to claim fullness or a diet, but the way he was looking at me, so expectantly, so eagerly, so, well, hungrily, made him hard to resist. He looked like he wanted to devour me-right after he got done with the dessert. And let me tell you, that man knows how to savor a banana split.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

It came with two spoons, but we decided to only use one, and he made sure to share, scooping up one spoonful of whipped cream sprinkled with nuts and chocolate sauce and offering it to me, then holding onto the spoon as I sucked the sweet treat off of it, then taking another for himself.

Eating the gargantuan dessert was our form of foreplay, complete with moans, our feet joining under the table as we gorged ourselves.

When he leaned over to kiss me across the table after the last bite had been eaten, our mouths cold and sweet, I was a goner. We went back to his place and quickly pounced on each other.

That first moment I climbed on top of him, got to run my fingers through the hair on his chest, got to watch myself rise up and down along his hard dick, I was smitten. I came so fast and hard my head hurt, and I had to get up and turn out the light. We fell asleep all piled together, and when we woke up at two in the morning, his cock was hard again.

I slithered down to the ground and took him in my mouth, giving him a slow, sensual nighttime blowjob, then swallowed every drop of his come. Somehow, though, when he dozed off to sleep, I was still wired.

After kissing his forehead, I covered him with a blanket and poked around his kitchen. It was a typical bachelor pad, though he did show a fondness for salad dressing and had a vast array of breakfast cereals.

The cupboards proved slightly more useful, but I found that I wasn’t really hungry, but wanted something sweet, something I could offer him when he woke up, something I could take between my fingers and hold up to his open lips.

The freezer proved a bonanza with an unopened roll of chocolate chip cookie dough, the kind that always seems so seductive in the grocery store, all squishy and sugary and salty, able to be eaten raw or warmed to just the right soft, crumbly consistency in the oven. I’d been standing there naked, letting the icy air blast my skin as my mouth watered.

I took out a cookie sheet, feeling every inch the naughty homemaker, and greased it with a stick of butter. Then I opened the roll, not resisting the impulse to sneak a finger inside the gooey concoction and grab a small nibble for myself. I managed to get a chocolate chip, and I savored it against the backdrop of the dough.

Then I cut them into approximately even sizes, spreading them around the tray before popping it into the oven. I tidied up his kitchen, running a fresh sponge along the counter, even opening the fridge to swab its insides.

I saved some cookie dough for later and watched as the small circles spread inside the oven, oozing outward into perfectly warm, soft, pillowy delights. He woke up just in time for the first batch, his hair mussed, looking groggy but intrigued.

“What are you doing here? Come back to bed,” he demanded.

“Soon. You go back to bed and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said soothingly, noting his erection nesting against his boxers.

I did not return ten minutes later, bearing a tray full of cookies, their aroma wafting from the tray. I hadn’t used the whole roll, so there was still some dough left in the freezer. As soon as he saw me approaching with the tray, Todd did a double take, then started to laugh. “What are you doing, you crazy girl?”

I just smiled and said, “I’m bringing you breakfast in bed-a breakfast of sex and cookies, that is.” But when he reached forward for one, I shook my head. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m going to feed these cookies I just baked to you at my own pace. Put your hands down, or I’ll have to tie them behind your back.”

My words came out harsher than I’d intended them, but they had their effect. True to my sexy sugar mama roots, I wanted to feed my lovers, but I was also a control freak, so I wanted to do it my way. “Now close your eyes,” I said gently, pulling a little bait and switch as I cooed into his ear, letting my tongue dawdle along his tender earlobe.