Page 54 of M.M. Scrooge
Lingerie isn’t a new addition, but this particular set is. Daniel introduced his first lacy frock last year for my birthday and, upon being met with my overenthusiastic reception, has added a number of racy sets to his collection ever since. This one is stunning, hugging his lithe curves like liquid velvet. I’m getting hard just looking at him.
I bend to lick the sweet treat from his nipples, holding his curved lower back and drawing him into my mouth.
As I take one pebbled nub into my mouth and suck, Daniel squeals, fisting his hands in the loose fabric of my T-shirt. The batter is delicious, but his skin is even more so. I give the other nipple the same treatment, sucking like I’m trying to slurp the last of a milkshake through a straw just to hear him groan. He’s so sensitive here, so responsive to my touch.
When he’s wriggling in my hold, I let him go and sink to my knees. There’s still batter left on the spatula. As tempting as his package looks all trapped inside its purple cage, I’m ready to free the goods and christen them with a dollop of vanilla-flavored gooey delight.
His cock bulges against the fabric, threatening to escape on its own. I lean in and mouth at the silk, blowing hot breath against it, dampening the fabric with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.
Daniel grabs my shoulders and squeezes. “Wanna… Oh!” Must have been a well-placed kiss. “Wanna take me to bed?”
I peel back the silk so his naughty bits can bounce free. “Eventually.” Forgetting about the batter, I lick his shaft and suck a kiss onto the tip. He scrabbles at my short hair, unable to get purchase, and ends up holding my ears. I have to laugh.
“I’m gonna fall over if you do that here,” he warns, his voice as shaky as his legs.
I glance up, flutter my lashes at him, and hold his cockhead on my tongue.
“Max!” My name, if I’m interpreting correctly, is both a plea for more and a command to stop. His hips stutter, sending his cock into my mouth. I close my lips over it and savor. More, then. He can take it.
I lose myself in the blow job, focusing on his pleasure, enjoying mine. Bobbing my head and circling with my tongue, I breathe him in. His scent sends a zing of arousal through me. I drop the spatula to squeeze his ass.
“Max.” This time my name holds an admonishment. A demerit for dirtying the utensil and the floor in one go, but I’m confident I can earn his forgiveness.
“Sorry,” I mumble around my mouthful. “So good.” His ass fills my palms in two perfect handfuls. I pull him closer and take his cock into my throat.
A timer buzzes from the kitchen.
Daniel jerks.
I choke and sputter off him, wiping a line of drool from my mouth.
“Blondies are done!” Daniel announces as if he’s auditioning for a cooking show. He spins out of my grip, hard cock thrust proudly toward his navel, and takes my prize away from me and into the kitchen.
I clamber to my feet. “Hey, I wasn’t finished.” Though watching him walk away is nice. Those thigh-highs do amazing things for his already amazing thighs. I want him spread out under me on the bed, purple legs splayed wide, ass open, begging for my—
“Max, grab the cooling rack, will you?” He holds the pan of blondies over the counter.
Right. Cooling rack. I probably know where that is. I open the cabinet to the left of the stove.
“No, it’s in the drawer underneath the oven.”
Or I don’t know where it is. Whatever. I find the wire rack and place it on the counter. Daniel sets the pan on top. Somehow his sexy getup is even hotter with floral-print oven mitts as accessories.
“Is the oven off?”
“Yes.”
“Thank god.” I grab him like I’m a fucking neanderthal and he’s my chosen bride, throw him over my shoulder, and make for our bedroom posthaste.
His squeal morphs into a delighted giggle as he pounds fists on my back uselessly. “Put me down, you absolute madman! I can walk on my own.”
Just chatter, all of it. If he meant it, he has a word he can use. “Never. I’ll do whatever I want with you. Starting with tearing that slutty lingerie right off your body.”
“I thought you might fuck me with it still on.” His voice fills with yearning. “Slide your dick right past the thong covering my hole. What do you say, Max? Get me filthy? Make me come all over my sexy garter belt.”
Oh, wow. I’m picturing it, and what do you know? His idea is better than mine. “That could be arranged.”
I dump him dead center on our big rumpled bed and trap him with my weight, pinning his wrists next to his head.
