His Dessert – Erotic Flash Fiction

“I want to see what’s under that dress,” he says in a low, guttural growl. Falling to his knees, he lifts my left leg and places my thigh on his shoulder, propping it up as I stand on my right leg’s tiptoes. He pulls up the front of my skirt, the lace bunching in his hand before passing it to me to hold – exposing my panties to the cold, winter Seattle air.

With one hand on my thigh and the other pulling my panties to the side, I hear him moan. Then, without a moment to lose, he’s on me. His free hand now fingering my pussy, his tongue dancing over my clitoris.

My eyes roll into the back of my head in pure bliss.

Feeling my clit twitch under his mouth as he ups his fingering game from two fingers to three – stretching me, preparing me.

“Oh fuck,” I moan loudly, unable to control myself, the demanding man below me making it impossible to do so.

He pulls away, still pounding, and spits on my vulva. “Shall I make you squirt right here?”

I look down, making eye contact with the devil himself and nod frantically. My breathing turns to panting as he continues his pursuit of my climax.

He grins, going back to licking and nibbling on my clit.

He’s done this before. Has he done it in public before, too?

I press my lips together, trying to keep my enjoyment to a minimum – knowing that my boss and his guests are eating a meal in the event tent. Though, I appear to have stolen one of his guests – but I’m still feeding him well.

My legs begin to tremble, his right-hand grips my thigh tighter – trying to stabilise me as I reach my climax.

I yelp and squirm as I finish, feeling my cum run down my legs, but he doesn’t stop – he’s not done with me yet.

“What the fuck is going on!” I hear from behind me. I look over my shoulder, seeing my boss and his daughter standing there, gawking.

I can’t stop; I have no control over the matter. Instead, I turn my attention back to the man, who is devouring me as if I’m his last meal before execution – entirely possible since his dinner date is behind me with her father.

I gasp, a second orgasm rushing over me. My head falls back in sheer pleasure, unable to contain it.

The man slowly lowers my leg, grabbing my hips to help stabilise me after the assault.

He steps aside, allowing the pair to see him. He has a wide grin on his face as he pulls his handkerchief from his breast pocket, beginning to wipe his face of my cum. “I hope you don’t mind, I skipped to dessert.”

With that, the daughter lets out a cry and runs away.

The man still wiping down his face with his right hand, while his left arm is wrapped around the front of me, his hand resting on my hip.

“Leave,” says my boss. “Now!” He roars.

Turning to look at me, the man leans down – his lips brushing against my ear. “C’mon, Cookie. I’m not done with you yet.”