Short Story: Happy Naked Pastry Time

She really likes pastry
 

So this story needs a bit of context. My wonderful friend F has set me a daily limit of writing her at least 200 words in order to keep my creative juices flowing and, coincidentally, myself writing.

I also play a lot of WoW on a great private server called Primal Wow, which can be found here if anyone’s interested along with some more information here from an ever-so-slightly Youtube famous guildie of mine. (Love you Hamster).

During a particularly interesting run through of MC the Dutchies in our guild started to discuss pastry and F – loving their accents – started to giggle like hell and came out with (I swear I love her brain so much) “Oh my god, if any of you guys said anything like that during sex I’d loose it, I swear.”

Hilarious discussions between myself and F ensued via in game whisper…and the result is as follows.

Summary: She really likes Dutch pastries.

Rating: NC17 – Adult content, mild kink, M/F

The Effect of Dutch Pastries

“Stroopwafel”

She shuddered as he spoke the word so softly against her ear. She felt his fingertips glide across her bare skin and she tensed in happy anticipation. The silken blindfold across her eyes held fast as she turned towards the seductive voice by her ear. Firmly he pressed his entire palm against her stomach and pushed her into place, flat on her back.

Calmly he bound her arms above her head with additional silken strips and spread her legs, tieing them quickly to the corners of the bed. She gasped as she felt something cold running up the inside of her thigh. Wet droplets ran down her legs where it had been. The cold cube was moved along her body and circled around her belly. It came to a halt on her belly button and was left to begin melting.

“Don’t worry my darling, the Ijsblokje is only small. I would not see my sweet sweet princess come to harm. Especially when I have such plans for your body.”

She felt him squeeze her breast as he talked and his words came to an end only when he began to circle her nipple with his tongue. Sighing blissfully she surrendered herself completely to the promise of what was to come. The cool breath as he blew over where his tongue had been caused her nipples to peek, she arched her back to try to maintain the contact. The dark chuckle that accompanied her movements caused a whole new kind of dampness between her legs.

“Poffertjes.”

She whimpered as her fully erect nipples were toyed with.

“Appeltaart.”

She felt his hands cover her breasts and his body move to lie against her. His strong muscles aligned perfectly against her gentle curves.

“Drop.”

He was in between her legs now and she arched further as he kissed down towards her sweet spot. His strong hands held her legs apart and as he began to lick with firm, confident strokes at her wetness he smiled. In a contented rumble he said, “Chocoladeletters”.

She called out his name in a desperate, excited gasp. Expertly he worked her towards the point of no return. Begging she pleaded with him to send her over. She had no way to see what he was doing to her but this only heightened the sensations as his hands moved across her body and his tongue slowly drove her wild. She promised him anything he wanted but with every lick he somehow kept her just on the edge of the ecstasy she had been assured would be hers.

She was losing her mind. He was working her open with his fingers now, moving them inside her in exquisite and complex patterns. She almost cried when his tongue left her clit and she felt his skin against hers as his strong frame moved quickly up her body. She could feel his breath at her neck and as his dick pushed deep inside of her, and his capable fingers resumed the pattern his tongue had just finished, the last thing she heard before she came was, “Kruidnoten.”

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Sophie J Clark

I'm the author of Getting Out: Escape is harder than he’d ever imagined and QP-id: Love, Sex and Nano-Machines. I'm currently in the process of writing my third book. All works can be found on Amazon under the name Sophie J Clark.

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