I laughed, then gestured to the nearly empty packet of strawberry-flavoured popping candy lying not too far from me on the living-room floor, carelessly discarded earlier in the evening after I had decided to try the ‘pop rock blow job’ the ever-amusing and informative Kat from snarkysnatch had mentioned (I had to google it – I had no idea what it was!) I was completely covered in come, with splashes of it predominantly on my red-satin-and-black-lace-covered breasts but extending down to my fish-nets and up past my head. The blow job itself has been fun, a novel experience during which H had smilingly commented that it felt like ‘vibrations’, though I had over-filled my mouth with candy and made something of a sticky mess! The strawberry flavour mixed in with my juices was what remained after the fairly lengthy session of intense, cramp-inducing fucking which had followed the initial blow job. At that point I had no idea how H found any energy to continue to pleasure me, but for some reason, in my slightly drunk and completely worn-out state I thought trying some pop rock cunt sucking would be a good idea. It wasn’t. It wasn’t painful, but it was a bit too sensitive on my over-worked clit to be considered truly pleasurable. Luckily the small remaining bit of candy popped itself out fairly quickly, and I could relax into the orgasms that followed without distractions.
Date nights used to involve dressing up smart and heading out. These days they are starting to involve dressing up like a tart and staying in – and I must say, it is rather enjoyable! Either way we’d still end up in the same place: the living room floor, the kitchen table, the sofa, or occasionally our bed; a little drunk, full of delicious food, and even more horny than usual. This way, however, we spend less money, don’t have to worry about finding a babysitter, are under no time restrictions, and I can wear minimal amounts of clothing at the dinner table!
I remained lying on the floor in a daze for what was probably only minutes but felt like half an hour, hearing Leonard Cohen’s deep voice filtering through from the music player in the kitchen, the smell of come filling my nostrils, and found my limbs too exhausted to move – sated, smiling and utterly satisfied, I wondered why we only have date night once a month.