Page 23 of The Naughty Week
“Beautiful,” Heath says. “Spread her wider, Josh, get ready for your starter.”
Wider?! Jesus, it’s going to burn so bad.
Josh splays my pussy lips and the pan clanks again. I grit my teeth hard, ready to be set on fire, but the pain gives way to pleasure in moments when it lands. Josh is there with a sweep of his pierced tongue in a millisecond, licking me clean.
“More, please,” he says, and another dribble of heat lands, my pussy lips still splayed wide and vulnerable – but Josh’s tongue is right there to save me from torture as he cleans me. His tongue keeps working, following the dribble of soup over my body wherever it goes. It’s a clash of sensations that work beautifully together – the scorch of pain followed by Josh’s horny, wet mouth.
Heath laughs when Josh starts sucking and lapping at my tits in a frenzy.
“Steady with the gobbling, Joshua. All three of us need to eat, remember?” I hear him step up to my head, with another clank of the pan. “Open your mouth, curva. Take your portion of soup. Your boyfriend is a great chef.”
I know Josh is a great chef. He works wonders in the apartment while we cook together, serving up the most delicious meals, packed full of herbs and spices.
I open my mouth wide, and Heath is careful as he feeds me from the ladle. I recognise the taste. French onion – how fitting. I’d love to give him ayumin appreciation, but I daren’t. I hope that the way I open my mouth and stick my tongue out conveys my thanks. I’m like a fledgling chick, hungry as Heath dribbles more soup onto my tongue. He’s so careful as he lets me savour and swallow.
“Good curva, only a touch of mess,” Heath says, and his hair trails over me for a moment before his tongue sweeps around my lips and down my chin. “My turn now. I want my portion.”
More heat. More ladles. More tongues. Two men licking soup from my naked body as I strain with the urge to arch and squirm for more. My skin lights up with desire, and I want the burn. I want the prickle of heat and the relief of hungry mouths in the aftermath. I want the agony of searing pain.
My thighs must be trembling when they return their attention to my pussy.
“Splay her wide,” Heath says, “make sure that beautiful clit is standing proud.”
I gasp when my pussy is splayed and Josh’s mouth lands on my clit. It’s so hard not to moan when he sucks and swirls his piercing.
“Let me see,” Heath says.
One last hard flick with his piercing, and fuck, I’m sparking like I could burst into flames, desperate for more when my boyfriend’s mouth leaves me.
“Such a gorgeous clit,” Heath says, and fuck how I tense when he clanks the pan. “Do not clean her up until I say so, Joshua. Understand? I want our sweet curva to feel this one.”
“Yes, sir,” Josh says.
Heath clanks the pan again and I grit my teeth as the hot liquid hits with a searing heat that almost –almost– makes me fucking scream.
I’m panting, my tits heaving, my pussy on fucking fire.
Heath must have given Josh the nod because suddenly his face is buried, his tongue lapping at me, and fuck it’s crazy how just like that I’m coming in his face, trying not to buck, trying to be still, trying to fucking breathe as my amazing boyfriend sucks the life out of me.
“Jesus,” Heath says when Josh finally pulls away. “That was… hot.”
Josh laughs. “Hotter for Ells than us. But yeah, so damn hot.”
“Let’s finish up,” Heath says, “there’s not much left.”
I tense like a bitch when he clanks the pan again. But hell it’s nice, as they take it in turns, slopping and lapping. So much soup over my body with hungry tongues licking me clean. I wonder if I’m a mess of gooey liquid, or nothing more than a slick, spit covered canvas. In a blindfold, I just can’t tell.
“Almost done,” Heath says, and the river of soup on my tits is a pure splosh as he empties the pan. They are tasting more than their yummy starter when they clean up the final portion. Teeth nip and tug my nipples, fingers kneading. Josh’s fingers are back on my clit, circling, and my breaths are shallow, the taste of soup still in my mouth when Heath’s lips land on mine. His tongue is after every last taste, digging around my cheeks as though I really am a soup bowl and he’s licking me clean.
I could curse as the two guys disappear.
I want more soup, and I want more heat. More pain and pleasure. And morethem.
Drawers are opened and closed in the kitchen area – more pots, pans and utensils. My mind reels, trying to guess what’s coming next. Is it going to be another gloopy one? A stir fry? Noodles? Creamy pasta?
Seems it’s not Josh who is the head chef tonight.
“Go wipe the table down,” I hear Heath say, and footsteps sound in my direction.
