Messy Sundae Sunday
The first trickle felt cold, and Delia gasped, squeezed the bottle harder, which only made another gush of chocolate syrup shoot out over her breasts. She used her free hand to rub it across. It was like climbing into a pool – the cold only bothered her at first, and then she got used to it. Her nipples were hard, though, little suckable Hershey’s Kiss points under the coating of chocolate syrup.
She’d picked chocolate first because it went with her hair, but she had more in reserve: Strawberry, Aaron’s favorite. She grabbed that bottle, shook it up, dripped some across her ass. It was harder, getting it on her back. She had to flip her hair out of the way, stick the nozzle between her shoulder blades, and just let it run down the channel of her spine. It was gathering in the tub, around her toes, squishing slippery when she moved.
It tickled, running over her, and she wiped at the trails, smearing them, mixing strawberry and chocolate, coating herself. Her arms were still bare. She squeezed a handful of both out into her palm and smeared it on her arms like lotion. She rubbed more on her ass, her thighs, coating them sticky, creamily, until her skin looked painted with it.
She ran her hands over her naked flesh, creating sweeping lines in the sticky syrup, mixing it even more, feeling it melt even closer to her skin with every second. She wrote her name on her belly, scraping the chocolate away, then wiped it out and wrote Aaron’s name across her tits. She licked her fingers, squeezed more strawberry syrup over her tits. She was really hot now, couldn’t resist sliding a hand down to rub more over her sticky pubic mound. She’d shaved, just for him, just so it would look smoother, more perfect.
Her hard clit was like the cherry on top. She slid down in the tub, feeling the dregs squish up into the crevice of her ass, up around her hips as her body pushed the mess around. Her hair was sticking to her shoulders. Stray marks of red and chocolate brown covered her cheek, her chin. Her fingers spread her pussy, and she rubbed herself, adding her own cream to the sticky mixture. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter.
She didn’t care about the mess, she slid up and sat on the edge of the tub, dripped more chocolate and strawberry syrup over her mound so it trickled between her folds. Some of it fell to the bathroom floor. She wanted to come, wanted to come now, wanted Aaron to lick her, eat her, and devour her. Delia spread herself in blatant invitation.
“Now,” she panted to her waiting boyfriend. “Now it’s time for dessert!”
With a grin, he settled down on the floor and dove in face-first between her sticky, chocolate-smeared thighs.
Alexandra Rose