Emma’s always liked her food. And eating isn’t the only thing she does to excess.
I sigh and lean into the doorway. On my bedside table I can see the red LEDs of the clock radio counting down to my birthday – less than ten minutes now. And beyond that, covering the whole of our double mattress, is a gigantic meringue.
Apparently, my boyfriend Dan promised to suck his mate Sean’s cock to get him to make this meringue. He used the huge oven in the bakery where he works. A meringue as big as a bed needs a big oven. For a lot of guys that cock-sucking would just be a figure of speech. But not with Dan. My gorgeous guy has had male fuck buddies as long as we’ve been together. Never quite figured on the forty-something, craggy Sean, though. He just seemed so straight. But just goes to show, you never can tell.
Earlier, Dan was up to his elbows in whipped cream and yelling out in agony about the spasms of pain in his wrists as he whisked up carton after carton. He looked so sexy, whisking by hand; the damp sweat curling the dark hairs around the nape of his neck. He’s no cook. But he never asked me anything. He looked in recipe books when I told him my favourite dessert. Raspberry Pavlova.
As I watch, Dan brings in all the cream he whipped until his wrist was smarting and he was yelling in pain.
“It’s still sore, if you must know,” he says, grumpily. “And don’t tell me that turns you on.”
“Well, maybe a little.” And maybe it does. Dan dumps endless washing up bowls full of whipped cream over the meringue. Then he goes to fetch the raspberries. At this time of year they were hard to get. He could only find them in tiny little punnets for three quid a time. He must have bought hundreds, going from shop to shop and slipping into his overdraft to buy them. When he’s done with the fruit, my breath catches in my throat looking at his creation. He stands back smiling, and I know what I have to do.
“I don’t want to. I don’t want to spoil it,” I say, but I don’t really mean it. I don’t dive, though. I don’t launch myself into it and sprawl over the cream. I wish I was that kind of person but I’m really not. I walk over to the giant pavlova, trying not to feel self conscious. I slip out of my jeans and knickers and pull my T-shirt over my head. Then, gingerly, I sit down.
Oh-my-fucking-God. It is cold! Dan laughs at me. And I realise I shrieked out loud. And then I laugh too. I laugh and laugh, ‘cause this is crazy. Dan runs across the room and leaps on me, pushing me back down into the raspberries and cream. It’s freezing. Underneath me the meringue softly crunches and powders. Dan scoops a huge handful of meringue and cream and raspberries and globs it into my mouth.
“Happy birthday, baby.” And while my mouth is still full he fills my c*nt too. Filling an obvious needy void. Coasting on cream and tingling fruit juice and me. He pulls back to thrust, scrabbling on the cream. I yell out as the meringue cracks again and I sink down lower. Cream goes everywhere.
“Oh god,” I moan. It’s too soon – and yet, kind of not. “Harder. Dan, please. Hard. Hard, now.” I shudder and let my head go back. I’m moaning already. Overwhelmed with what he’s done. Oh, the meringue, the meringue. It’s nice and all. I like it. But the fucking is so much hotter. (Notwithstanding the fact that the meringue is freezing.) He slams into me a few more times. Cream is splattered across my tits and he dips his head to lick it away. His bottom teeth graze my nipple and I buck up, pushing my tit further into his mouth. I’m lost in the sensations. He transfers more of the pavlova into my mouth in smooshy kisses. The thick lushness of the cream, the zing of the raspberries, the sparkle of the sugary powdery meringue. He pulls his cock from my c*nt and rubs his creamy fingers over my clit. I roll and moan, turning my head and pressing my mouth into what is now just a kind of raspberry-milkshakey slush by my face. He slips his body down and works his tongue into the sweet, soft centre of me, flicking and twirling. I start to lose it. I close my eyes and all I can think of is cream. Of Dan working and working with that whisk. Oh god, Dan. His tongue swoops again. I’m coming. I yell and tighten my thighs around Dan’s head, my fists clenching around handfuls of crumbling meringue. Dan straightens up from between my legs as soon as I loosen my grip enough. My c*nt is still spasming as he coasts up my creamy, slippery body and kisses me. He tastes amazing. Of my orgasm and my favourite food.
I roll around, slipping and coasting on a lake of whipped cream. “Over,” I moan. “I want to turn over.” I scramble up and shift. I get on my hands and knees. I love this position. My all time favourite.
Behind me I hear Dan lean down off the bed. “Fuck,” he mutters as I feel him slip and then right himself. There’s a slither and a click of metal as he pulls his belt from the loops of his jeans. “It’s so slippery,” he murmurs then, suddenly back behind me, covering me, his mouth at my ear. His teeth graze the hard little fold of flesh and the response from my body is jangling – unbelievable. Goose bumps shoot down both arms and my nipples tighten hard and fast. Dan lets go of my ear and I feel the belt slipping under my stomach. “You’re going to need this baby.” And I groan. I love it like this.
Dan uses his belt to pull me backwards onto him as he slips his still-hard dick into my c**t. Despite my orgasm I still want his hot thickness in me. His cock satisfies a deep hunger that neither sugar nor any other kind of oral pleasure can ever quite satisfy. I drop my head. Bury my face in luscious fruit and the thick glob of the cream and the soft crunch of masses of crushed meringue. He thrusts so hard then. It pushes my head down further, like I’m half drowning in pudding. I’m overloaded. Dan knows how I like it. I like excess. Excess in food. Excess in sex. I love that feeling of being relentlessly, endlessly filled. Stuffed. Full. He fucks me and fucks me until we can’t go on much longer.
“Let’s change, Em,” he whispers. “I want to see you.” He slips out and I roll over. Sighing and gasping as I lose his cock for a moment, then moaning as he fills me up again. I know my face is covered with cream. He starts to fuck me. I can tell he’s getting tired. He’s so good to me. He gives everything when he fucks. He gives me everything I want. I stare at the muscles in his arms. Shiny with sweat and smeared with red fruit and white cream. The colours twirl around his arms making them look like candy canes.
“What?” Dan says, panting.
“Candy canes…” I breathe. I must have said that out loud.
He laughs. “You can’t want more sweeties.”
I catch his eye. “More,” I say. “More, more, more.” And he starts to come. He always fucks me the hardest when he’s coming. It’s my favourite part of every fuck. When his breathing has softened he reaches down and brings up his fingers, dripping with semen. He smears it down my face. I open my mouth.
