She’s A Filthy Sticky Girl

The lock on the door clicked and she was alone. Twenty minutes to herself without interruption.

She hitched up her skirt and slipped off her knickers before sitting back in the soft leather chair. Her hand reached into the freshly opened box of chocolates and selected one by touch. Her other hand came to rest on her mons, stroking it gently. A calm prelude to the tempest to come.

She a took bite from the dark confection, cherry and Kirsch flooding her taste buds. The warmth of her body turning it into a thick, comforting, serotonin inducing, slow-motion river of sensory bliss.

Her fingers slipped into her warm, wet groove and the fusion of fingers and pussy began. Her digits would not leave their moist partner until their danse de la petit mort was over.

She rubbed her clitoris at first gently, then harder, vigorous, urgent and needful of fulfilment. Each time she felt herself needing more lubrication she would dip into the well of her pussy, a well that would never dry up.

She reached again for a chocolate. White truffle deep and opulent filled her senses. Her toes curled. The cocoa and clitoris combining to make her squirm. Two little beans of disparate origin conspiring to fill her body with warmth and pleasure.

Her tongue licked her lips exposing the melting chocolate to the air. The scent of chocolate and pussy became heavy around her, a soft cloak of blissful molecules cosseting and comforting her.

With white truffle still lingering a tidal wave of expectation began to form. A soft wave of roaring orgasm approaching in the far distance growing louder by the moment. Her fingers rubbed and flicked a clitoris that was ready to unleash the rip tide and drag her into the undertow as it broke across her.

She closed her mouth, attempting to stifle the moans. Almost succeeding, clamping her thighs together trapping her hand. She convulsed and twisted onto her side mouth now open in a soundless “O”.

Moments later she stood up. Washed her hands in the sink and went out into the shop. Customers would not server themselves and the two girls she employed would be overwhelmed if she didn’t muck-in. And with good reason, she did make the best chocolates money could buy.