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By *ushMyPlay OP Woman
over a year ago
Milton Keynes |
Before I could say hazelnut swirl, he was feverishly thrusting himself into the melted chocolate covered wrapper of the KIND bar he'd just eaten, muttering something about Hummus.
True, I had started this food-porn experiment a couple of weeks back, when I impulsively splatted a handful of hummus all over his member, laughing like a maniac. I'd been in an irritable mood that day, and we were bickering towards an argument. But a picnic blanket, a few swigs of gin and a couple of inhales later, and my bad mood broke itself on the implementation of a sudden whim to reach into that little pot, and scoop out the cool beige condiment with my fingers. Before I knew what my left hand was doing (pulling down his pants) my right hand had found his hard on, and was delivering a disaster.
The look on his face was a mixture of abject shock, dismay, amusement and curiousity (curiosity about how we would remove the chickpea lumps from his fuzzy pubes in the middle of nowhere and without any water - this is a reasonable question to ask when you suddenly find viscous dip-dip all over your stick).
The least I could do was offer a swift solution to the kerfuffle, so I didn't wait more than a minute (because that's how long it took me to stop laughing) before dedicatedly licking and sucking off as much of it as I could in a somewhat aggressive manner.
Have you ever tried to lick hummus off a penis alluringly? Well, neither have I. I was frankly too d*unk to care how it looked. Half way through, I fell back onto the grass laughing at the childishness of my own bratty prank. Luckily, he was laughing too.
That afternoon we lovingly slapped, fingered and fucked each other all over that wood. The hummus incident had definitely set the mood, but I had no idea that one impulsive moment would insight future explorations with certain snack bars.
But here we were. The future was... Now. Naked from the waste down, on a hot and sweaty Tuesday afternoon in the long grass, I witnessed the sudden slathering of melted chocolate all over his Johnson.
I watched, with a sort of startled fascination, as if I was witnessing something awful but wonderful all at once. I wondered if I was in the mood to start the clean up operation he was clearly hoping for, and by this point, needing. To be fair, it looked like he'd shat all over his pecker, and I got the distinct impression that he and I were realising this at exactly the same time. 'It looks like I've shat myself' he offered. 'Yes, yes it does' I mumbled, as a smile crept across my lips. 'Oh Fuzzy' , I thought, 'you're delightfully weird.'
I silently wondered about my next move. I had two options. Let him put his pants back on and suffer an uncomfortable walk back to the car, or pucker up buttercup and be a hero. Surely it's just a basic civic duty to help someone out in this sort of situation, I reasoned. And being stoned in a field pretty much gives you free licence to justify and explain most things (including licking what looks like a turd covered todger, I would hope). So I did what anyone who loves someone covered in a dessert would do. And then I came home and wrote about it, and posted it to the Internet. Well, we were both stoned. And I do really like chocolate and hummus (though perhaps not served together).
My verdict is this - I enjoy food on and off my boyfriend's prick. And it's good to try... new things. |
