by Cheryl B. Sellers
(10/25/06)
I have this craving for dark chocolate; you know, the rich deep almost-black-in-color kind. Now don't get me wrong; I like milk chocolate too, but it is just a little too smooth for my taste buds.
Hmm, come to think of it, that's how I like my men also -- dark and a little rough on the taste buds.
Let me explain what I mean -- I once had a brother who was like milk chocolate; now the brother sure knew how to romance and wine and dine a woman. He would come to the house with a rose in hand, kiss you the sweetest hello any woman could desire.
At dinner there would be small talk of things to come. The compliments would flow from his lips like honey. Milk chocolate would charm you out of your panties with sweet words, soft music and gentle caresses.
After dinner the soft lovemaking would continue; sitting on the couch it would go like this: "Oh baby girl you smell so sweet," as he nuzzled my neck, his hands roaming over my body.
A shiver would start to creep up my spine as my skin warmed to his touch. I would hear his breathing grow quick and rapid. Getting up from the couch, I would lead him into the bedroom. Sit him down on the bed and light the candles.
Going back to the bed, I would start to undress him slowly as he caressed me, softly; I can still hear the smooth butter melted in his milk chocolate voice as he whispers, "I want you so."
Lying down beside each other, I can feel his hands between my legs seeking out my damp slit. Reaching out, I find his cock is rock hard and also damp at the tip.
My hands run over his body and find he is smooth like milk chocolate, hairless. The feel of his skin under my fingertips takes on the same sensation as one of those worry balls filled with gel, or even better yet, he feels like chocolate melting in a double boiler. When you're dipping fruit into the fondue and your fingers just happen to go a little too deep and touch the warm chocolate.
Yes, he is mouthwatering milk chocolate and he even tastes like it when we kiss. His breath is sugar sweet as his tongue seeks deeply into my mouth.
Now, being the chocoholic I am, I suck deep and hard on that ambrosia. Until neither of us can stand the scorching in our loins and we must put out the fire.
My milk chocolate now adds in a little honey, and we all know what warm honey does. It laces us together in an oozing slippery easy ride. As our passions rise we glide, smooth syncopations, until our lovers' milk flows.
Now I am sure you can see where milk chocolate pleases me very much, but when it comes to wallowing in my preferred sin, I glutton out on a dark chocolate binge.
My bite of dark chocolate man would come to the door most times, empty hands but full of lust and a warm body ready to love.
The greeting would be a deep soul-searing kiss as I open the door; from there he would twirl me around, so he could take in a full view of me, "You are sure the best eye candy in the world," would be his greeting. Making me feel like I am for sure desirable sweet meat, his preferred choice of dessert.
Dinner will come as an afterthought, this I know. So the chilled wine would be set up with glasses ready. The loving started at the door would continue into the living room. I would pour him my offering of a glass of wine with a dark chocolate kiss.
As the kiss melts in his mouth he seeks to share this spiced flavor with me, in the form of a long deep lingering soul sucking tongue wagging, a "wish I could climb down your throat -- I would be inside of you" kiss.
At some point we both have lost our clothing among these kisses, and this lets me seek out his body to see if he has any new hidden treasures that I have never touched before in loving foreplay.
With breathless heaving of our bodies we try to see if we can do a body meld -- well, that being impossible, we join in the only way we can. In the bright lights of the living room, me down on my knees with my head resting on the couch. Him behind me, he mounts like a large cat in heat.
This dark chocolate teddy bear is fuzzy and I can feel his roughness of hair as he lies forward, trapping me under him. His face comes into view next to mine and I smell the sweet scent of melted dark chocolate left on his breath as he whispers in my ear, "What a sweet chocolate box you have, babe girl."
"Mmm, the better to contain all those chocolate kisses and your chocolate swizzle stick," I reply in passion's heat. "Now take me to candyland, fly me over that gumdrop rainbow."
Feeling him slap my bottom like a beater that aerates chocolate in a vat, I groan to the sting and flow with the flesh musical riffs, as he pounds my hips with his own filled to overflowing bonbon bliss.
Working us hard, he now withdraws and lays me down for his final joy; I do so love when I can feel the almonds in his double fudge sacs rubbing against my chocolate lickety split. Rocking me now slow and easy, for he is not trying to make a chocolate milk shake.
We bring up our heat slow to roasting, so as not to scorch the cocoa beans. The fragrance of bodies takes flight into the air as I reach out and grasp the chocolate lying on the coffee table beside us, and hold it between my lips to soften. Then I spread it on my nipples so that he might suckle.
Taut chocolate nipple candy so sweet and spicy on his lips. I say, "Come here, let me lick." Just about then when I think the fire can't get any hotter, he turns up the flames a notch. The dark swizzle stick goes into a pulsing mode, and of course I have to answer with my nether regions. My chocolate candy box takes on flexibility that would make any contortionist envious of my movements. With an aim at nearly breaking the swizzle stick -- but if that goal can't be accomplished -- I sure as heck will melt it.
To the writhing motions of the chocolate stick, I give it my all, and in one last burst, the two of us create the best chocolate of all, deep dark rich hot cocoa served up in my love channel, laced with our lovers' milk.
