33. Lubricious Sandwich
CHAPTER 33
Lubricious Sandwich
ALISTAIR
I love seeing Ivy like this, wide open and horny as fuck. It’s my dream, really. What else could I possibly want? But there is more in store for us, and when I open the door, I’m not disappointed. A beautiful Thai woman stands there in a bikini and almost transparent cotton cover, white and gold, showing off her caramel skin. She beams at me, all white teeth and sparkling eyes.
“Chailai?” I ask, and she nods. I have been warned that she doesn’t speak English, but this particular service I have ordered requires zero speaking. I offer to take her bag—an insulated box-shaped carrier—but she waves my hand away. I lead Chailai outside to our pool deck, where Ivy has hastily slung a fresh towel around herself.
“ Sawadee ka, ” Ivy says, bowing her head.
“ Sawadee ka, ” replies Chailai.
She unzips her bag and brings out a roll of black tarpaulin, which she spreads on the deck. She works quickly, with practiced hands. This is not her first rodeo. Ivy looks at me, puzzled, then back at Chailai, who is now unpacking two large thermos flasks.
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” whispers Ivy.
“I understand your misgivings,” I reply.
“I don’t know what you have planned,” Ivy murmurs. “But the black tarp is not inspiring confidence.”
“Because we usually use it to get rid of dead bodies?” I tease.
“That would be funny if it weren’t true,” she counters.
“If it helps at all, black tarpaulins are a mainstay at certain sex parties—and, usually, everyone survives.”
“Hm,” replies Ivy. “Still not convinced, to be honest.”
“In that case, I’ll have to prove it to you.”
Ivy wiggles her eyebrows at me, full of mischief. “I look forward to it.”
Chailai nods and gestures at the tarp. She is ready for us.
“You won’t be needing that towel,” I tell Ivy, pulling my shorts down and flinging them onto the lounger. She hesitates, then, seeing my nudity, acquiesces. The towel falls to the wooden slats of the deck. We lie down and Chailai beams at us as if it’s perfectly natural for a naked couple to lie in front of her on a black canvas. She takes off her cotton shift, revealing a perfect petite body. Ivy’s eyes widen as the woman twists off the lid of the first flask.
“I’m still wondering if I’ll make it out of here alive,” she quips.
“As if I’d do anything to risk losing you,” I reply, not joking.
I smell coconut milk and vanilla. Honey. Lemongrass. Chailai comes over and kneels between us. She pours a few drops of the fragrant milk on Ivy’s breasts, then on my chest. It’s warm and velvety and feels even better than it smells. She takes turns with us, pouring more each time, till we’re covered and slippery.
“This is amazing,” purrs Ivy, interlacing her fingers with mine.
“I can’t wait to lick it off you,” I say.
“What are you waiting for?”
“You’ll see,” I reply.
Once the flask is empty and we’re pretty much swimming in the warm sweet coconut broth, Chailai peels off her tiny bikini and joins us. Ivy’s mouth drops open.
“Okay?” I ask. I’ll admit it’s a bit late in the game to ask, but it’s always a tricky balance to surprise someone sexually and have their full and immediate consent.
“More than okay,” Ivy replies, eyes still wide.
“I know you have something for girls in gold bikinis,” I tease. “So I ordered her especially.”
In another place and time, saying I’d “ordered” a girl would make me grimace. But this was Ivy, Chailai and I, and we were all one hundred percent up for this.
Chailai turns Ivy over onto her stomach, then uses her whole body to massage her, slipping all over in the creamy white liquid as I watch—and try not to drool. She’s got this amazing rhythm, and the act of the massage is a beautiful and sensual performance. I take a handful of milk and begin stroking myself, my cock swollen in my fist. The liquid is so warm and slippery and I’ve been hard for so long, it’s almost tempting to finish myself off—but I am nothing if not a patient man, especially if waiting means getting to fuck Ivy in this fragrant slip-’n-slide.
Chai keeps kneading and slithering while Ivy moans beneath her. “Never … want … this … to stop.”
She turns Ivy over and gets to work on the front of her body, starting by rubbing their nipples together, and then a full-on chest-to-chest slick boob massage. I can see by the way Ivy is lying that she has totally surrendered.
My stroking gets faster, but Chai doesn’t like seeing me on my own. She climbs on top of me, slipping and sliding, then gestures for Ivy to climb on top of her, so we’re a lubricious sandwich. Ivy holds my hands on the ground, either side of my head, while Chai squirms between us. Despite there being no penetration, it is quite possibly one of the most erotic experiences of my life.
Ivy stops moaning in pleasure and is now giggling at trying to stay on top. Once Chai decides we’ve had enough, she slips out from in between us and gets the remaining flask. I don’t know if it’s more coconut milk or warm water to rinse us off. I was wrong with both guesses because when she slides back to us with the open flask there’s a different scent. Dark chocolate and … spiced rum?
Chai gestures for us to keep going, so I suck Ivy’s incredible nipples—they harden against my eager tongue—while my fingers make their way back to her pussy. She’s still swollen and sensitive, and my cock almost has a mind of its own, wanting nothing but to drive onto her tight wet cunt that I have gotten to know so well.
Patience, I tell myself, but my cock will wait no longer. In its defense, it has been ready to go for hours now. Chai hovers with the flask, waiting for me. If there’s an appropriate time to climax, it’ll probably be while the chocolate is flowing.
“Do you remember the human chocolate fountain?” I ask Ivy, my fingers inside her. It seems like a lifetime ago.
“Of course,” she laughs. “How could I forget?”
“Well, I saw this on a menu of services, and I thought we might revisit the memory.”
“That’s a menu I want to see,” replies Ivy, panting slightly. “What’s this particular service called?”
I had never heard of it, or, indeed, imagined it—hence my interest. “Sensual anointing.”
Ivy smirks. “Anointing? Isn’t that, like, a religious thing? A god thing?”
“You are my god thing,” I say, moving my fingers slowly in and out of her. “You are everything. My Queen of Everything.”
Her muscles clench around my knuckles. It’s time.
I finally ease myself into her, so compact and slick I have to breathe, have to pull myself together to stop from exploding right away. Her moan almost pushes me off the edge I’m retreating from.
“Alistair,” Ivy pants. “Alistair.”
I look into her eyes, my fingers in her hair, and then kiss her long and deep as I slowly rock into her. I feel her pleasure as if it is my own, as if I have lost the very borders of my body. Ivy’s breathing grows deeper, another climax approaching parallel to mine. I sense Chai moving and brace myself for the contents of the flask. Molten chocolate streams onto my back, almost as hot as candle wax. I hiss through the heady mix of pleasure and pain. The chocolate flows over me, dripping onto Ivy below. I lick the drops I see on her cheeks and her chest, then smear chocolate over her tits and suck it off. I do this over and over; we are stuck in a blissful loop of spilling, spreading and sucking.
Ivy opens her eyes and giggles. “You’ve got a little—” she says, gesturing at her face to let me know I have chocolate all over mine.
“Oh, really?” I reply.
When she giggles again, I wrap my arms around her and haul her up and over so she is on top. When Chai pours the chocolate on her back, she gasps, and I grab a handful and smear it all over her face. She stops laughing. “You did not just do that.”
I shrug, trying not to smile.
She mock-scowls at me, eyes narrowed, face dripping. We must look like we’ve just crawled through mud. Naked.
Ivy takes the flask from Chai and empties the whole thing onto me. I yell in surprise and delight, feeling like a child again. I wrestle it from her and splash her with the dregs, and then we’re suddenly wrestling each other, laughing, struggling, close and hot, in a pool of warm chocolate.
Soon we’re out of breath and energy, but not before I catch Ivy’s arms and push her to the ground, still slippery with coconut milk and chocolate. The smell is intoxicating. She squeals in glee as I trap her, growling into her neck. She pretends to fight me but the struggle has left her body. All she is capable of now is a few half-hearted pushes, but I hold her firmly and she doesn’t escape.
“I’ve got you,” I growl.
“You’ve always had me,” Ivy pants.
I drive my cock right into her, and she cries out. She claws my back as I push in as far as I can go, holding her fast, dominating her, fucking her like a feral animal. Harder and faster, smashing past her tight muscles and into her core, right into her A-spot—that little pocket between the cervix and the wall that I know she loves. Ivy’s body tenses beneath me, but I keep going. Her rolling moan turns into a yell as the climax takes hold and shakes her. I scoop chocolate off her chest and smear it across her open lips. She groans and sucks my fingers as she comes, then I lean in to kiss her, tasting it, tasting her. Her pussy still clenching my driving cock, I finally let go and yell loudly as my orgasm tears through my body.