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Chocolate Cake


I love chocolate. Anything chocolate -- M&Ms (my favorite candy), chocolate
covered cherry cordials (I like the milk, but the dark's my fave), chocolate
mousse, chocolate fudge ice cream... well, you get it now. Especially chocolate
cake. The more chocolate, the more dark, the better!

So where was I? Oh yes, I love chocolate. Now what does this have to do with
anything, you're asking? Well, there's always a story...

I recently had the occasion to take myself out to dinner. Not so special,
really, but when you're used to eating with your lover every night and all of a
sudden you're eating by yourself, well it's a bit of a shock to the system. She
had to go out -- without me! -- for a business dinner meeting, and... well I was
left to my own devices. I was given some money and told "Now make sure you eat
something, even if it's Burger King."

Well, I'm proud to say I did better than some fast-food grease pit. I decided to
go into Philadelphia to a restaurant I'd heard a lot about in a very glitzy
hotel and have myself a real honest-to-goodness gourmet dinner. Soup to nuts.
And I don't eat much as it is, but I was a real gastro-glutton this night.
I had Caesar salad for one, bread and butter, shrimp scampi on rice with garlic
wine sauce. I was in the middle of sucking on a shrimp when I happened to glance
up from my gluttony and notice this woman sitting two tables in front of me. She
was staring right at me. At first I thought she was staring at me, that is, but
then I realized that she was staring at my food.

She got up and walked towards me. She was taller than I, which isn't saying much
(I'm 5'2"), but she had to be at least 5'8". And when you're my height, everyone
looks 6'. What a gorgeous woman! Dark brown shoulder length hair that looked
like, well, a river of chocolate. And what a bod... Anyway, she came
towards me, pulled out the empty chair at my table, sat down, and in this
unearthly, gorgeously Lauren Bacall-ish husky tone said, "I'm dying to know --
what is that you're eating? It looks like shrimp scampi, but I couldn't tell
from my table." What an introduction. I politely dabbed at my mouth with my
napkin. How I managed to remember manners I will never know. And I replied, "It
is scampi. You're very perceptive. Would you like a taste?"

Well, of course she did want some. Isn't that how all fantasies go? So I scooped
up a nice fat forkful of shrimp and gathered up a heaping gob of rice with my
spoon. I was going to put the contents on her plate and, hopefully, just sit
back and watch her eat. She was gorgeous. I could pretend I was one of the
shrimp. I began maneuvering both fork and spoon towards her plate. I am not very
big and consequently am cursed with short arms, and so I could not reach her
plate without standing up and leaning across the table. When I leaned over, my
concentration was broken by the view I had of her breasts. A partial view, true,
but it was enough. I could see the roundness, the beginning of nipple. But I
needed a better vantage point. Maybe if I moved in closer. So I tried to stretch
myself across the table even more. Being the extreme klutz I am, what else would
have happened but that my fork full of shrimp fell out of my hand, clattering to
the floor. I heard someone from the next table over remark, "How disgusting."
Well yeah, honey, I hadn't planned on spilling it either. "Oh my god, I am
sorry. What a klutz," I heard myself say. It was the end of my scampi. There
was no more to give her, only my wimpy, wilted steamed broccoli. Yukkk. Well I
could place another order for scampi. Hold on! It's $15.95 and I only had $30.00
to begin with. I hadn't even had dessert yet, which I cannot do without. Ahh,
dessert. Salvation, maybe?

She must have been reading my mind, because she said, "It's okay. It's time for
dessert and coffee. What do you think we should have for dessert? You choose."
So, what do I do? I'm here, alone in this great restaurant with this wonderful
woman who wants me to order dessert and coffee for her. I hoped she liked
chocolate. She had to. Chocolate... it has this rich sensuality, this allure to
it. Most people that I know avoid it, because of diets, or the caffeine, or
whatever. It's the ultimate, the forbidden, the one thing everyone dreams about
when thinking of eating dessert. How many times have we all been at the office,
listening to the late 40-ish almost-menopause age very much overweight women
complain "Oh, I'm on a diet, I couldn't possibly eat any of that", and then they
take a piece, saying "Well, just a small piece. I am on a diet, after all."

I can eat as much as I want of it because I never seem to gain weight. Working
out like an Olympic hopeful five days a week helps. But it pays off because I
get to have my chocolate. Well, back to the story. I regained my senses and
looked back at this gorgeous thing at my table and said "I'm going to have a
look at the dessert tray, and then I can make up my mind about what to have.
Would you also like some cappucino?" "Absolutely." So I called the waiter over
and asked to see the dessert tray. He brought it over immediately, it seemed,
and I had the feast of the world before my eyes. German Chocolate (hmm), Black
Forest (oohh), Chocolate Cheesecake (yukk), Chocolate Mousse Pie (possibility),
and then there was Chocolate Chip Supreme -- it had a dark devil food cake with
almost black chocolate icing inside and outside and semi-sweet dark chocolate
chips imbedded within. A winner. I told the waiter we'd have two servings, but
my new friend at my table said, "Just one serving. We'll share."

Our order was served. I got the cake and she got an empty plate. I said to her
"Mind if I try it first?" She shook her head of marvelous hair which I took as a
yes and I dug in. It was absolutely delicious, the chocolate, and I could feel
the instantaneous rush through my body, I suppose like a vampire feels the rush
of the blood from his victim. It was exhilarating, addicting. No wonder people
felt so strongly about chocolate. I sat back in my chair and sighed. Ahh, it was
sinful. I closed my eyes for a moment and began imagining all kinds of things.
But I had to share. I dug my fork in and carved out a nice big chunk of cake. I
again tried to lean across the table, mindful this time of my previous
unsuccessful effort, and I held the fork out and said something stupid. "Open
wide, here comes your ecstasy." Ooooh. I have got to get better lines. She
opened her mouth, so wide that I could see she didn't have much dental work. But
she was so beautiful I couldn't focus on her teeth. Again, I had the pleasure of
viewing her cleavage, but from a much better position. But my innate clumsiness
failed me again. I was so close to her, I looked down again and saw her nipples,
soft and brown, and I saw her entire breasts, the roundness and shadows
descending below. As I strained forward to see better, it happened again. I
lost my balance! I could feel myself falling, and I tried not to fall onto the
table. I succeeded and managed to fall onto the floor next to the table where I
had previously heard "How disgusting". This wasn't pretty. I was sprawled on my
back on the floor with my forkful of cake in one hand and the other clutching
the chair I had managed to drag with me. I was so embarrassed. I wasn't hurt --
just the pride that made me do this stupid thing. I thought about just turning
over and crawling away on my hands and knees when all of a sudden she was there,
leaning over me and offering me her hand, saying, "Are you all right? Let me
help you up." I accepted her hand, and she said, "Let's get the dessert wrapped
and go." So I paid the check, got my cake in the customary styrofoam box and
started for the door. I didn't even get to drink my cappucino. And I had paid
$3.75 for it, plus $4.75 for the cake, tax and tip. I didn't have much left.

I was positive she wasn't coming. I knew a little coffee shop where I could get
my cappucino cheap, so I started out towards the lobby with my little styrofoam
prize tucked under my arm. I heard the sound of heels clicking against the
marble of the lobby floor and I heard her calling "Wait! Don't go!" I kept
going, trying to lose her voice and knowing that if I heard her once again I
would stop and there was no telling what would happen next. After all, I had a
lover. I was committed, though not trying very hard to continue to be so.
Selfishly, I decided that I wanted my cake and to eat it by myself. So I marched
on, my cake securely tucked in between my hand and my hip.

What happened next was totally unexpected. She ran up, planted herself in front
of me and said "I have a room. Let's go upstairs and have the cake and I'll
order some cappucino from room service." I tried to walk around her, but she
placed a hand on my shoulder and said "Let's go. Now." She was definitely the
dominatrix type. I was playing the victim well, I suppose. I guess I could just
go up, let her eat some cake and then go. Let them eat cake. It worked for
Marie. Maybe it would work for me. It was good cake.

We stepped into the elevator and we rode up to the 35th floor. We'd have a very
nice view of the city. Walking down the hall to her room, I again felt that
twinge of guilt. What was I doing here? My lover was out having dinner with a
bunch of stuffy old business people and here I was contemplating adultery with a
stunning accomplice. It wasn't fair. We continued down the hall and she slid the
keycard into the door, opened and beckoned, "Come in." I followed her inside and
my eyes feasted on the lavish surroundings: mirrored walls, plush carpeting. I
peeked around and noticed the bath had a jacuzzi. I vaguely heard her talking on
the phone. She had a very nice situation for me to fall into. I walked over to
the couch, sat down, and she slid beside me. "Well, let's have that cake. I've
ordered cappucino and ice cream from room service." I fumbled with the lid and
managed to retrieve the cake from the container. She took the cake from my
hands, broke off a chunk and brought it to my lips. I devoured the cake and
sucked on her fingers, licking every last drop of chocolate. There was a knock
on the door. She got up and I heard her thanking the bellboy, and the door
closed. "It's the ice cream and cappucino", she said, and she reappeared with a
container of Chocolate Cherry Cordial, a tray with two cups of cappucino,
whipped cream, a bowl of chocolate shavings and a very large spoon. She set the
tray on top of the small dining table. "Let's eat".

She sat down on the couch next to me and proceeded to unbutton her shirt (no
bra!), she removed her shirt and began to coat her torso with ice cream and
cake. I was mesmerized by this sensual attempt at fresco (Michelangelo never had
it so good), and I was so moved I buried my face in her breasts, in her
chocolate covered breasts, and began to lick, to eat, until the chocolate was
gone and there was only nipple. The nipple had some chocolate left so I sucked
on the nipple until the chocolate was gone. While she moaned and writhed. Then
she stood up and reached for the silver tray. "We need the cappucino." After
she sat back down, she took off her remaining clothes. She sat down next to me,
naked, and she took my hand in hers and said "Make me cappucino." I started to
pick up the coffee cup, and her hand grabbed mine and she said more forcefully,
"Make me feel cappucino." Her hand gripping mine moved down between her legs. I
felt the softness of her hair, her wetness. "Make me cappucino -- with whipped
cream and chocolate," she said. I leaned down towards her legs when all of a
sudden she jerked my head up, pulling my hair, which hurt tremendously. "No!
Make me cappucino, but tell me about it. Describe it. I want to imagine it."

I removed my hand from between her legs, and I took a spoon from the coffee tray
and began to spoon whipped cream into my cup. "As I take this cream, I'm taking
you. I move my lips against yours, I move my lips down your face, I feel your
neck. I kiss your neck, your shoulders, and then I move towards your breasts."
As I said these words, she sighed and moved towards me. "And now I'm at your
breasts." I took a deep sip of the cappucino. "I'm licking your breasts, pulling
on your nipples with my teeth, biting you just a little, not enough to hurt but
enough to make the liquid flow between your legs." She moves on the couch,
arching her back so that her breasts stand up firmly. I am ready now. I move in
towards her and her hand stops me. "No. Tell me." I stop, dumbfounded. What else
can I tell her? Just tell her as if it's happening. So I do.

"I suck on your nipples, I take my hand and put it between your legs and feel
the softness, the wetness. You open your legs and I can see your cunt. Waiting
for me." "Take the cream," she says. "Spread it on me." I take the cream,
spreading it between her legs, on top of her rich mound of hair. I sprinkle the
chocolate shavings on top of the cream, and I bend down to eat. Licking the
cream, then I taste the chocolate, and finally I begin to taste her. "Now pour
the coffee on top of my cunt," she says. Pour the coffee? But won't it burn? "Do
as I say." So I reach up and grab the silver container, twisting the lid, and
then I gingerly pour a small stream onto her. She winces a bit, and she grabs my
hair, hurting me a bit, and says, "Here's your cappucino." I dive in, licking
the coffee mixed with cream mixed with chocolate mixed with her come (and she is
coming in a big way), and I can't get enough. I pour more hot coffee, she
screams a bit, and I spoon more whipped cream and chocolate and I keep licking.
And licking and licking, and I can feel her move into me, her cunt in my face,
and I cannot stop myself, I grab her legs and hold her to myself, bringing her
cunt into my face and I go completely crazy on her, licking and sucking. She is
dripping, wet, coming all over my face, running down my chin, and I sit up,
exclaiming "Something's missing!"

I lean over her naked and beautiful body, reaching for the remnants of the ice
cream (now sadly melted) and the leftover cake. I sit down and smear the cake
and a handful of ice cream on her cunt and dive in. Never had I tasted anything
so good. Chocolate come. How divine. I kept going, going until all of her limbs
spasmed, and she shook as though having a fit and said no more and I knew it was
no more. She was spent, completely exhausted. I had never made anyone come like
that. She sat up, looked at her watch. It was the only thing she had on. Then
she said, "it's time for you to go."

Time? Who had a thought about time? I started to protest, as I was incredibly
turned on and was hoping she'd reciprocate the cappucino making (we could have
more cake and leave out the coffee -- I have a low pain threshold), but she
gently pushed me away and said "You have to go. I'm expecting my husband at any
moment." "Will I see you again?" "You'll know where to find me -- I love
chocolate cake and cappucino".

So I left, bewildered, bewitched, bedazzled and a little bit sad. After all,
this had been a most incredible experience. I started thinking about how I would
explain this to my lover -- I hadn't washed up and I probably had chocolate
stains on my shirt, for goddsakes! What had been an evening of astounding highs
was quickly becoming one major depression for me.

I entered the cab, gave the driver my address and we were off. It seemed like we
flew to my little row house and still I had not thought of a plausible lie to
tell my lover. I paid the cabbie with my last $2 including tip and I put my key
in the deadbolt. As I opened the door, my lover walked into the dining room from
the kitchen. She was putting wine glasses back into the china cupboard and
though she knew I was there she wasn't looking at me. "How was dinner? Where did
you go?" "I went to the Bellevue" "The Bellevue! Well, I'm proud of you. What
did you have for dinner?" "Shrimp scampi." "And for dessert?" "Chocolate Chip
Supreme." "I might have known". As she walked into the living room to embrace
me, she stopped dead, looked at me and said, "What the hell happened to you?"
Looking down at myself, my worst fears were realized. I had chocolate on my
shirt, chocolate on my hands. I raised my hands and ran my fingers around my
mouth and discovered sticky chocolate smears all around my lips. Plus I probably
smelled like cunt to boot. I thought I'd have a heart attack. Well, better to
tell the truth since I can't think of a believable enough lie. "Well, there was
this woman and she made me go back to her room and eat chocolate cake with her
and she took off all her clothes and spread the cake all over her and I ate it
off her and made her come."

She put her hands on her hips, tilted her head in that funny way that I love so
much and started to laugh. "That's the best one yet. I swear you come up with
the best stories. I know you too well, my little klutz. You're just too
embarrassed to tell me you tripped and fell into the dessert table." I laughed,
probably a little too much, and I shifted my feet. "You'd better go upstairs and
get those clothes into some cold water in the sink. And wash up. I'm not going
near you until you do."

After I regained my sense of feeling in my legs, I started for the stairs and
said "You know me too well." She smiled and said, "I just made some coffee. Want
some?"

End of Story