by PriveCo Inc.
The night we drew up the detailed blackmail plan she invited me to spend the night. The plan included a lengthy list of conservative women, and men, who had made purchases through The Chocolate Dream, complete with addresses and credit card numbers. I still have this list somewhere, with the title "Conservatives for Chocolate." In the end it smacked up against both of our ethical standards, but she still invited me to sleep with her. No sex, but wrapping my arms around Allegra's naked body and spooning her close and whispering each other asleep still rates as one of the all-time best erotic moments of my life.
I researched every possible angle. We laughed about the law. No porn near churches? "Right," she said, "they're some of my best customers." But I knew she was scared about losing the whole thing.
I met with several lawyers wise in the ways of pornography, and they said she was out of luck. The statute would never be repealed, because who wants to agree to thrust porn on innocent children or churchgoers? And there were no exceptions to the statute. All anyone had to do was subpoena her records and chart out just how much of her business came from dildos and nipples, and she would be closed down.
In the meantime I was fascinated watching her orders come in. A woman in Iowa placed an order for a private fundraising party—I looked at the fax as it came in:
4 dz dildos
3 dz mini-handcuffs
6 dz white chocolate cherry nipples, individual pkgs.
1 8" dark chocolate dildo, ribbed
Allegra was nonchalant about these orders; I was either on the floor with laughter or deep in erotic dreams at night picturing this secret world of chocolate kink that I had never known existed.
We considered moving the shop, the obvious answer. But to be legit, she would have to file a statement with the new community that she was in the business of selling pornography, and she refused. I couldn't blame her. She also refused to locate anywhere near the known porn strips. The truth was that the 15th Street location was her heritage, all she had left of her grandfather, and she was going to live out her dream right there one way or the other.
The night she offered to paint my body with warm chocolate was the night I knew what I was going to do. My ethics were going to have to take a short vacation while I solved Allegra's problem. There was no way I was ever going to let her go. Ever.
She took a soft brush and made a design on my torso with perfect warm chocolate. Then she licked it off slowly, and it was like a dream. I lay back and closed my eyes as she worked her designs down my body, one at a time, stroking and then licking. It took forever, like all good dreams do. When she reached the design on the tip of my cock and licked it all off, I fed her everything I had mixed in with the chocolate in her mouth. She was beautiful, and she was hungry for me, and I wanted to feed her for the rest of my life.
I met with old, rich Mrs. Carey in my office the next morning. I told her I had the perfect, the only, the most profitable location for her idea of opening a restaurant with several trendy boutiques up above. It was easy. I told her that her grandchildren would be taken care of for life, and that they would think she was the coolest grandma on earth. I have no idea if this was true, but it seemed like a good dream to have. She authorized the check and I offered it to the school-building owner the same day. He couldn't refuse; he even snickered to me that he couldn't stand kids anyway and his own dream was to open an X-rated video store down on Colfax. Licensing paperwork was completed and filed, and the details assigned to my paralegal to finish up. I arrived triumphant at Allegra's loft at six sharp.
"Sit down, Allegra. We're having chocolate for dinner."
I placed the papers in her lap and let her read with delight while I got ready and talked about my plan.
"Tonight's mine, baby. And so are all your tomorrows." How I loved that she could inspire me to say things like that.
"Yes," she said softly, agreeing to everything I said.
When she returned from downstairs with all the extra available chocolate toys I asked her for, I was ready. I showed her the large chocolate handcuffs tied with ribbons that Zach had made for me. We both knew she could just bite her way through them, but we both knew she wouldn't. I undressed her, laid her belly-down on the bed, fastened her wrists to the brass headboard and settled in to eat.
The taste of the inside of a woman's thighs coated with juices and chocolate is only surpassed by the joy of finally holding the ass you have dreamed of tight in your hands and discovering that lust and love can be exactly the same thing.
I placed the order with Zach this morning for the wedding chocolate forms, all quite sensual and erotic. Allegra doesn't have much time for the details of our upcoming celebration, since she's busy working on the new Chocolate Dream franchising I helped her put together. I, on the other hand, have what seems like all the time in the world as I sit in my small office space over the shop and spend my time writing and helping Allegra with the legal end of the business. My firm was most generous when I left, and every lawyer in the place envied my escape. I sent them all their very own box of chocolates as a parting gift -- little chocolate desks with little people handcuffed to them. Some of them stop by here often, to visit the Dream.
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(continued)
Chapter 3 - Go Large
I watch my new lover as she studies her body in the mirror. I am in the adjoining bathroom, and she is not aware that I can see her as she hefts one breast, pouts and splays her thighs to display the sticky evidence of our recent coupling.
Lois has a substantial body, and she revels in it. She knows that she looks much better naked than clothed. Her pale skin is soft and smooth. No bones are visible, only bold curves and luscious folds of flesh. Her nipples are psychedelic pink snowcaps atop mountainous breasts. The space between her formidable thighs and the escarpment of her belly is thickly forested with shiny dark hair.
Yet it is the warm pastures of her buttocks that I yearn for, to sink my fingers into that elastic flesh and feel her strength, to lower my mouth to her upraised invitation and navigate by tongue the dark, aromatic crevasse.
We have been lovers for only two days. I am infatuated.
I shouldn't even be here, but my secretary, Sarah, who mothers me even though I am older than her, engineered this working vacation. Having decided that I had been working too hard, she accepted an invitation for me to attend a technology briefing here in Cannes. Even more deliberately, she booked me on a Sunday flight although the conference won't begin until Tuesday. Even in November, this is a pleasant place, though a little empty. I could almost believe that all the fashionable people left when they heard I was coming.
But wait. How rude of me. Here I am sharing this story and I haven't yet introduced myself. My name is Clarke Kent. No Really. My mother was a slightly scatty woman who chose the name because it sounded familiar. She had no idea of its provenance.
At 39, I have never been married, although I have had two relationships with women and one rather discouraging hour with a prostitute.
The first of my lovers was Joan. She and I were at school together, but she left me after 4 years. I was a nice man, she said, "but boring." After Joan, there was Sally. We worked together, and she wooed me and bedded me, then left me to move to a new position in the company's New York offices. She said I was too afraid to grab hold of life, and that was the end of Sally. Mandie, the prostitute, just said "Never mind, luv -- it happens to people all the time." She even offered to charge me a lower fee.
I tell you this so that you will realize that, even when I take my glasses off, I am not Superman.
Two nights ago, I found myself in Cannes, dining alone in the hotel restaurant, with a romantic view of the sunset that seemed completely wasted on me -- and Lois came into my life.
"You don't mind if I join you, do you? I don't speak French and I like to talk
while I eat." All of this was said as she seated herself between me and the setting sun.
She was wearing a red T-shirt dress, big but still clinging to her form. The words, "GO LARGE" were printed across it at a 45 degree angle, in huge jagged black letters. As I struggled for a suitable response, trying not to show how pleased I was, I was transfixed by the nipple of her right breast. It formed a prominent punctuation mark in the center of the letter O.
"And how did you know I spoke English?" I asked.
She laughed and said, "Well, you could hardly be French."
She noted my raised eyebrow (too many Roger Moore movies in my youth I'm afraid) and understood the interrogative interjection that it was meant to be.
"Well, Watson, firstly you have no wine on the table," she explained. "Dining in France and drinking only water with your food is like getting to an orgy and then declaring your celibacy. Everybody wonders why you didn't just stay home. Secondly, there is the matter of the clothing: this season's GAP you-can-wear-this-without-offending-anyone range of casual wear, not a typical French choice. But, the most obvious sign of course is the English language copy of 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' that you've put on the table to keep people from joining you."
"!" I said, silently.
"I take it you're here for the conference," she continued. "You have that nerd-made-good look. My name is Lois. Lois Lewes. My mother valued alliteration."
She looked away from me, summoned the waiter by raising her hand and, in the process, rearranged the topography of her dress. I couldn't take my eyes from her breasts. I knew it was rude, perhaps even pathetic, but I was hypnotized by the sheer mass involved.
"That was your cue. You're supposed to tell me your name now," Lois said. "My face is up here, by the way. "
"Clarke Kent " I said, and my cheeks reddened as I struggled to keep my eyes focused above her neck.
"Yeah, right. That's a new line. I haven't heard that before," she laughed.
"No, really, it's my name," I replied, with an it's-not-my-fault tone.
"Cool. Now I feel like one of those characters in 'Magnolia,' linked by some huge chain of coincidence that challenges the nature of free will. Watch out for flying frogs."
Now it was my turn to laugh.
"I'm rather afraid that our waiter, who probably hasn't seen the movie, thinks that you've just used a derogatory term in reference to French pilots," I said.
"Screw him."
"I'd rather screw you," I said.
The moment the words left my mouth, I wondered who had said them. I wanted to look around for the culprit and give him a good thrashing. The easy, rapid pace of the conversation, combined with the impact of Lois's physical presence, had made me giddy. What had I done? I almost expected her to toss my glass of water in my face.
"I'm sorry..." I started, lamely.
Lois was no longer smiling. She was looking into me, carefully, as if searching for something. I felt like she was the one with X-ray vision, and I had no secrets. With speed surprising for her size, her hand moved under the table and found my erection. The sun seemed brighter than ever. I breathed.
"Oh," she said. "If this is you on mineral water, just wait until we get to the Bordeaux."
Then her hand was gone, back on her side of the table, but the place where she had touched me still tingled, and I knew there was now a wet spot on my GAP easy-fit chinos.
The conversation slowed to a canter after that. Over the next three courses, I learned that Lois was an MIT graduate, with technical expertise that made her a hot property in the telecommunications market. Like me, she was here for the conference. Unlike me, she had no intention of attending. She was going to "scalp some data," as she put it, give her name to a few recruiters, and have a damned good time. In our conversation, there was no mention of a significant other.
I charged the bill to my room. Lois checked the room number and said, "We'll go to my room. It has a better view."
I paused, surprised. Women don't react this way to me. Oh, sure, they have dinner with me, because I'm a "nice man," and a good listener. But, at the end of the meal, it's traditional for them to find someone who will show them a good time.
"Are you sure?" I said, sounding prim and ever so English to my own ears. "We've only just met…"
"No," she said. "So far, we've talked. We'll meet when we get to my room and take our clothes off." The waiter chose that moment to pick up the bill. I blushed.
Lois was standing now. "So, have you changed your mind?" she asked. "Or are you waiting for us to be formally introduced?"
She was smiling, but I glimpsed some vulnerability there. For once in my clumsy life, I did the right thing. I kissed her. Then I did it again.
Her room was a suite with a beautiful view of the Mediterranean. I didn't notice. As soon as we entered the room, Lois pulled the dress up and over her head. Her body glowed, and I was blinded by the heat from her. She smiled and knelt in front of me, unzipping my trousers without comment. I was about to have oral sex and I hadn't even had to ask, never mind beg. Then I came, all over her hand. I was mortified.
Lois laughed, a hearty, full-blooded sound, still holding my shrinking cock. If she had let go at that moment, I think I would have run from the room.
"Well, Clarke, that was faster than a speeding bullet," she mused. Grinning, she licked my sperm from her hand. "Now, let's see if we can find the man of steel." She moved her mouth onto my cock and flicked the underside with her tongue.
I should have been ecstatic, but in truth I was deeply depressed. I knew what would happen now. I would stay soft, she would get frustrated, then angry. And then she would tell me that I was a nice man, but it was time for me to leave.
"Ah," Lois said, sitting back on her heels, letting go of my cock. "It's like that, is it?" I felt dismal. She had gone from lust to leave in a couple of seconds.
She stood up. I took a last look at her glorious body and prayed that my limp flesh would choose that moment to show its appreciation. It didn't.
"I should go." I said.
"No," she replied. "You can't go until you come; and you will come."
"What?"
"I know what you need. We'll soon get rid of the Kryptonite effect. Just leave it to Lois." She folded her arms and let one hip jut out. "Now STRIP," she ordered.
No one had ever spoken to me like that. It felt weird. It felt good. I undressed. Lois tapped her foot impatiently as I started to fold my clothes, so I just let them fall to the floor. After a few moments, I was standing naked with my hands demurely held over my shrinking genitals.
"Put your hands behind your back and kneel", Lois commanded. I didn't question, but did as she asked.
Lois reached out and grabbed my nipple, twisted it briefly. "Good boy," she said, pushing her thumb into my mouth. I suckled obediently.
"I'm going to tie you now, Clarke." Lois was circling me, and from somewhere produced three scarves. She used one to tie my hands behind my back, pressing her breasts against my shoulders. Her luxuriant pubic fur brushed against my hands as she bound me with the scarf. Still pressed close against me, she folded a scarf and placed it over my eyes, tying it securely behind my head.
I felt excited, yet surprisingly relaxed. I gave myself up to Lois and her three scarves. Thus blindfolded and bound, all I could do was wait.
I must have sighed. Lois whispered in my ear, "One more, and you are mine."
Her fingernails scraped over my chest, down my belly. I felt her fingers move around my balls, pulling down gently but firmly. When she tied the final scarf there, my cock rose like a balloon filled rapidly with helium.
"You're mine now Clarke, until you come. And that won't happen for a long time yet."
Her voice was in front of me now. "Open wide, Clarke."
I did, and my mouth was filled with the satin-smooth warmth of her breast. She pushed into me until I was overcome by her flesh. It became difficult to breathe, as she held fast to the back of my head
with one hand, and twisted my nipple with the other. But it was wonderful. My cock was so hard now that it throbbed in time with my pulse.
"Much better," Lois purred. "Now let's see if you're a good fit."
She withdrew her breast, allowing me breathe but gaping blindly for more flesh to suckle. Effortlessly, Lois pushed me onto my side, then rolled me onto my back, trapping my arms beneath me.
I smelled her cunt as she lowered herself to my mouth, and then I tasted it. Tangy. Salty. Like the earth and the sea combined. Without waiting for her command, I started to lick. Her thighs tightened against my cheeks. Her moans reached my ears as tremors rather than sounds, each one exciting me more. Just as my tongue began to tire, she moved down my body and took a firm grip on my cock. "Is it a bird? Is it a plane?" Lois murmured, stroking my swollen flesh with each question. "No! It's Supercock!" she proclaimed, lowering herself onto me at that instant.