Member-only story
April’s Fool
“It’s simply puréed fruit mixed with sweetened cream — ”
He grabs my left wrist and guides my hand to his crotch. “I’ve got some sweet cream for you.”
I’ve never tasted his cream, because that’s dirty, but I’m certain it wouldn’t taste sweet. And I definitely don’t want to hear another story about how all his exes used to let him come in their mouths, and happily swallowed, because they were all as dirty as he is. He’s with me now, and “I’ve got a sharp knife in my hand. It’s for cutting up thick, pink stalks. Shall I use it on the rhubarb, or…?”
He lets go of my wrist. I am going to need that hand for the chopping, but there’s no rush, so I don’t take it back yet. Rather, I rub his cock through the cotton of his boxer shorts, encouraging it to grow longer, forcing it down his leg. It’s not quite as big as the early rhubarb but at full length, in those shorts, it can see daylight. And as an amusing bonus, he’s quite uncomfortable. He shoves his hand down his waistband and wriggles about, trying and failing to reorient his trapped erection. He gives up and pushes his shorts down instead, so his cock springs free.
I throw a tea towel over it. “Don’t take that thing out in my kitchen! It’s unhygienic.”
I’ve offended him. “It is not! I showered when I got in from the garden, you could eat your dinner off my cock.”
