#871) Is It Hot In Here, or Is It Just Me? Part I

Normally, I’m the homebody and my fiancé is the one returning to our lair to me in the early evening. Normally, he finds me in the nude when he comes home, but on this particular Friday evening, I came through the door in my business suit and sensible flats to greet a nearly naked Robert. I’d gotten him a gag-gift of a fur-lined jockstrap for Christmas. He was wearing that and a smile. When I pulled my eyes from his package, I saw that his smile radiated from deep inside and extended to a glint in his eyes, with an expression on his handsome face that reminded me of a mischievous little boy.
“I’m glad you’re home! I’ve been waiting for you and have some things planned for you,” he enthused. “That is, if you haven’t had too hard a day and want to play…”
His positive energy was infectious. It had been a long day, but a fulfilling one, so it felt was though my soul had been renewed. “Thanks for asking, but I’m good! What do you have up your sleeve?”
We both smiled because it was clear that he wasn’t wearing anything with sleeves, but that was the last thing I saw. Robert put a silken blindfold over my eyes and secured it. Dependent upon him, he helped me remove my blazer and blouse, joking that I no longer had anything up my sleeve, either. He continued by removing the rest of my clothes.
“I have a whole evening planned, but first I want to make sure that you have the energy for it. Do you trust me to guide you through it all, Jeanie?”
“I do,” I said, having just been reminded of the weightiness of those two words strung together with his proposal. I no sooner responded this way than something was presented to my lips. It smelled heady, I opened my mouth, and my lover put a triangular piece of scrumptiousness onto my waiting tongue. He’d crafted a homemade pizza, a pizza to die for. It had a buttery soft crust topped with several aromatic, blended cheeses. On this, he’d strewn a little fresh steamed spinach and some caviar eggs. I bit down to insize-off a mouthful and the flavors exploded in my mouth, fairly healthy, one flavor influencing the next, all of them blending together so harmoniously. “Ummmm! That’s SO good!” I mumbled as I chewed.
“Not too hot?” he solicited.
“No, perfect!” and I opened my mouth wide for more. It was sensual, it was bonding to be fed, to be dependent upon him for this.
“Good, because that’s the theme for the evening, temperatures…”
“Okay…” I responded to signal that I was ready for this, ready for anything, but Robert didn’t rush it. He hand-fed me several slices attentively, then wiped my lips and I got the idea that this phase was over. But I was wrong.
Robert pressed something different to my lips. As warm and gooey and triangular-flat as the pizza was, this seemed cold and hard, shaped like a rectangular prism. I opened, bit down, had an oral orgasm.
“Oh, honey, that’s a… how did you…?”
“Your favorite flavor of popsicle, champagne white tea.”
“Yes! How did you get one?”
“I got a whole box, ordered them online”
“Oh, God, they’re so divine! Is this taste or temperature play?”
“I designed it to be temperature play, but with those two, I figured I’d try to get you hooked with good tastes…”
“It worked, I’m hooked!” I opened my mouth like a little bird wanting regurgitated worm but getting something so much better.
After a few heavenly bites, Robert said, “Now I’m going to rub some of the remaining pop on private places…” He pressed the flat side of the surface of this delicious frozen treat to my nipples, one at a time. I stiffened, literally as my nips hardened and my spine straightened. Then he started to trail it down my tummy.
“Where are you going with that?”
“You know…” he answered.
“No!” I reacted viscerally, my arms flashing out blindly to stop him. “Please don’t waste that delicious thing by putting it down there! It’s just too good…!”
“I thought you might say that,” he chortled, handed me the remaining ice-cold treat by its stick, closing my fingers over the wood before I heard him walking away. “I also bought a box of regular popsicles at the grocery, just in case.”
I heard him return and unwrap the paper covering of a cheap variation, among other noises. He let me slowly finish the decadently tasteful one as he applied a lime green one (I caught a quick glimpse of it below the blindfold and above my cheekbones, along the sides of my nose, just as I had with the first slice of pizza) to my pussy lips. Robert ran it up and down my labia.
“I’m not going to insert this in your pussy,” he said before I could. “I know the sugars might change the PH of your insides, cause an infection.” I knew he was smiling like a proud student at this recitation.
“That’s my good boy,” I praised and I knew he was smiling even more. He licked off what dripped there. “Oh! That’s my best boy…” and I laid back and cocked my legs up to give his mouth full access. He alternated cold pop and warm lips and tongue on my swollen slit. I melted.
Therefore, I wasn’t prepared at all when he rocked me back further by lifting my legs up (I refuse to call this “the diapering position”) and inserted the slender, cylindrical lime popsicle up my ass. He fucked me with it there, took it out, and inserted one of my thinner dildos up there instead. Apparently, he’d done a lot of prep, had brought this and other stuff back with him from the kitchen with that second popsicle so I wouldn’t see it before the blindfold was in place, because he had this thin plaything warmed in a pan of hot water. I supported my back with my bent arms because I loved this sensation of a warm phallus in my ass and his fingers and mouth in my sex. I went from cooing to cringing when he replaced the warm dildo once again with the cold pop. Back and forth, it warped my mind. He fucked my ass long and hard with the dildo, just touched my heated rectum briefly with the pop. It did the trick.
“May I cum?” I pleaded.
“It’s going to be a long night. I have lots planned for you. Hold off and let it build, lover.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, though really wanted to disobey and let loose.
“I’m going to move on,” he said as he rolled me over on my tummy. “Which do you want me to leave up your ass, the popsicle of the dildo?”
“Definitely the dildo,” I growled, trying to stave off the ripples of orgasm riffling my waters.
“Okay, but hold it in there, don’t let it pop out, or it will be the pop…” he warned, which made me anticipate something more. I was right, he began spanking me with something I couldn’t identify.
“Did you buy a new implement? What is that?” I asked turning my head backward, even though I knew that I could not see.

(I had trouble with technology while writing this, so, in frustration, I stopped here and continued in Part II, which will be published tomorrow. I promise it’ll get HOTTER!)

3 responses to “#871) Is It Hot In Here, or Is It Just Me? Part I”

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