by Jade Stone
I hear Lance exit the bathroom and enter our living room. My eyes widen, and I attempt to move out of Carlos’s embrace, but he holds me where I am.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, Lance?” Carlos calls to him.
My jaw almost drops; what the hell is he doing?
“No thanks, best I be going,” he replies. “Catch you guys later.”
“Bye,” I call out.
Before I can berate my husband, he whispers in my ear.
“And I told him one bathroom stop, then you get the fuck out of here so I can fuck my wife!”
I let out a laugh. My husband is a cheeky shit. My head drops back onto his shoulder as his mouth meets mine from behind. I melt into his mouth, his tongue searching mine as he pushes me harder against the kitchen bench, his erection even harder against my ass, eagerly wanting to be inside it. My nipples tighten when he caresses my breasts as he runs his hands all over my front, still exploring my mouth with his tongue. Instinctively, I feel my hand reach for the pavlova covered with raspberries and cream, but I don’t bother with a knife. I find my manicured hand digging into the cream and meringue mound as Carlos’s fingers start pulling up my dress and find my wet, slippery mound beneath my black lace panties.
“I’ve been thinking about you and cream all day,” Carlos whispers into my ear. “Especially creaming your ass.”
I moan as his finger meets my clit. My own fingers dig harder into the pavlova, the moist stickiness of the meringue and cream matching what’s between my legs. I begin to pant as he massages my clit, his other hand still caressing my breast. I raise my fingers out of the pav, and bring them to his lips. Carlos hungrily takes my fingers into his mouth, sucking off his favourite dessert, as he slides his hand inside the front of my dress and into my bra, my nipple aching with pleasure as he thumbs it. His tongue flicking all over my fingers makes me wetter than ever, and I let out a cry as my clit throbs against his hand in my underwear. I need to suck his cock before I come all over the place.
“My turn to taste your cream,” I say hoarsely, still panting.
Carlos removes his hand from my cunt as I drop to my knees. I look up at him with raging heat in my eyes as I unfasten his belt, and his cock springs out. I take it in my hand, rubbing down his shaft, before I bring it to my lips. I hear Carlos exhale as his entire cock slides through my lips, and I take him right to the back of my throat. I savour the taste and feel of his cock filling my mouth. It is so good, I can never get enough of it. I grasp his shaft and fist him up and down as I suck him hard, flicking my tongue all over his silky-smooth, bulging head. I taste his pre-cum, swallowing hungrily as it swirls through my mouth and drizzles down my throat. I would have been happy to suck his cock a lot longer, but I know Carlos wants to fuck me before too long. He pulls me up by the hair, his cock sliding out of my mouth. He moves me toward the edge of the counter again, then bends me over it. He pulls up my dress and starts to peel down my black panties. My heart beats faster as I feel my panties around my knees, with my dress bunched up around my waist and my ass completely exposed.
“Time to cream your ass,” Carlos tells me, giving my butt a light slap.
I look up and I find myself face to face with the pavlova, which I have partly demolished with my hand. I see his hand reach over and scoop some of it out. I let out a moan as he rubs the cream and raspberries around my butt cheeks, through my crack, and over my pussy. I feel him bend down behind me, and I let out another moan as I feel his mouth start to kiss around my ass. He massages it with his hands as he kisses it hungrily, then I feel his tongue slide into my cream covered pussy. I dig my hand into the pavlova again as his tongue flicks all over my cunt, making me squeeze the raspberries in my hand harder as he licks off all the cream, his tongue dipping inside me, driving me crazy. Then I feel his tongue slide up and dip into my ass crack, and he begins licking the cream off my asshole. I start to whimper at the sensations from his tongue creaming my ass and pussy, and I feel my cunt start to spasm, begging for his cock. Carlos can feel this, too, and I feel him stand up behind me.
“What are you?” he asks me, grasping my ass.
“Dirty,” I pant.
“How dirty?”
“Filthy!”
“You wanna get fucked?”
“So bad,” I reply, panting harder.
“How hard?”
“The hardest! I want your big, hard cock deep inside me!” I almost cry out.
I feel the head of his cock against the entrance of my pussy. My knees start to quiver.
“When?” he asks.
“Now!”
“Are you sure?” he asks as he strokes my ass again.
“Yes!”
He slams it in. My face slams straight into the pavlova. His cock fills me completely, and I moan as he slides it back out again. My makeup is completely ruined, but I don’t care. He holds my ass steady as he rams his cock back inside me, shunting me harder against the counter, making my face hit the pavlova again. I cry out with every thrust, his cock driving me insane as he pounds it into me. But I really want him to pound my ass, and Carlos knows this by the way I am pushing my ass up higher. I see his hand reach into the pavlova again and scoop up some cream. I feel him rub the cream over my asshole while he still fucks my pussy, and I can feel my ass start to relax and open up in anticipation.
“Is your ass ready to be fucked?” he asks me.
“Yes, oh yes...” I croak out.
He slips his cock out, and I feel the tip nudging against my asshole. He reaches around and his hand meets my pussy again, the tip of his finger pressing my clit. It swells against his finger as he massages it in little circular motions, making all my muscles melt, and he prods his cock forward as my ass relaxes and accepts it. I gasp as he slides it all the way up into my ass, the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain engulfing me, just the way I love it. I bend over further on the kitchen counter, sticking my ass up higher, and I gasp again as he pulls it back, the friction almost too much to bear, but the pleasure taking reign. Carlos holds my cheeks firmly apart as he rams it back in, and he fucks my ass harder and harder as I dig both hands into the pavlova, all the strawberries and raspberries turning the cream crimson as I squeeze them to mulch. Then I reach between my legs and insert two fingers inside my pussy, and I fuck myself as I feel Carlos’s huge cock deep in my ass against my fingers. I suddenly feel all my muscles tighten up—my pussy grips my fingers, my ass grips Carlos’s cock even harder, and I know I am about to explode. Carlos lets out another exhale as he feels me tighten harder around his cock, and he slams it right into me as we both come at the same time. I cry out as Carlos grabs me around the waist, my pussy convulses around my fingers, my clit throbs against my palm, and my ass shudders all around Carlos’s cock. He holds me tight as I feel him exploding deep inside me. We are both rigid for a few moments, and I am almost blinded as the orgasm hits me.
When it is over, Carlos collapses on top of me, and we both lie panting over the kitchen counter. Finally, he stands back up and slowly pulls his cock out of my ass. He does up his pants as I slowly straighten up and turn to face him, though I am still out of breath.
Carlos sees my face and starts to laugh, especially when he sees the state of the pavlova.
“I hope you aren’t going to serve that to my family...” he says, still chuckling.
“That’s why I also made the lemon meringue pie and the white chocolate cheesecake,” I reply. “I had a feeling the pavlova wasn’t going to make it to the table...!”
“I think I prefer the pavlova,” says Carlos, winking at me and stroking my face, wiping off some of the cream. “I like the way you serve it...”
“Me too,” I reply, giving him a kiss. “But I better not let your folks see me wearing it.”
He gives me another kiss as I leave the kitchen. I catch a look at myself in the hall mirror again as I head for the bathroom. I certainly look a lot different from an hour ago... After my shower, I didn’t have time to get dres
sed up again. But that was perfectly fine. I only dress up like that when I know I am going to cook something fabulous, then get bent over the bench and fucked in the ass. Just the way I like it.
Like a Surgeon
Being in the hospital sucks. I’ve been in and out of here my whole life with my heart condition. I was born with a hole in my heart, and had a heart attack when I was four years old. I was told I wouldn’t see thirty. I did get to thirty...and I gave the finger to my heart. I’m still here, you sucker of a ticker, I told it. Seven days later, it gave me the finger right back, and I collapsed on the ground in a shopping mall, dead.
The only reason I’m here now is because in less than a minute, a security guard at the mall grabbed the defibrillator in their first aid kit and jump started me back to life. The ambulance arrived and took me to hospital, where I was to stay for the next few weeks. When I woke up, I thought I must have died and gone to heaven; at the end of my bed was the best looking man I had ever seen.
The doctor introduced himself as Chad Carsone. He stood there telling me what had happened, and I nodded away as he detailed what he had done, that I would need another procedure in a few days to insert a permanent defibrillator or ICD (Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator) inside my chest, blah blah. I wasn’t paying much attention; his face was very distracting. My chest and rib cage really hurt. I had a peek at my chest, which was a vivid mix of black and blue. They must have really gone for it when they were trying to save me, but he said they hadn’t broken any ribs, which is common when resuscitating cardiac arrest patients. I made a mental note to return to the mall and give the security guard a bottle of wine for saving my life... What do you give someone for saving your life, anyway?
I eyed the doctor as he carried on talking. Normally, I’d have been annoyed about another upcoming operating procedure, but on this occasion I didn’t mind so much—he was one fine looking man. I then realised he’d introduced himself as “Mr.” Carsone, meaning he was a surgeon. That was odd. I’d been in hospital enough times now to know that surgeons didn’t usually interact with patients this soon; it was usually the duty doctor or registrar. And that once a doctor graduated to being a surgeon in a commonwealth country, they were no longer called doctor; they were called ‘Mister’ or ‘Miss.’ It goes back to the early eighteenth century apparently, when most surgeons were not trained physicians, but instead were generally barbers, and not as highly educated or regarded. Now of course the status has switched, but the silly snobbery has remained, with surgeons now proudly wearing their status of Mr. or Miss.
My vision was getting clearer, and I realised Mr. Carsone looked familiar. Very familiar. I knew this guy from a long time ago.
“Carsone...” I choked out.
It was always very hard to talk after a medical procedure, especially after cardiac arrest.
“Do you have a younger sister named Lauren?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he replied. “How do you know Lauren?”
“Went to school together,” I replied, still rasping. “I went to your house a few times. You were there sometimes. You were studying to be a doctor at university”
I left out the part that even at ten years old, I could appreciate a very handsome gentleman. Seeing him was the highlight of going to his sister’s house after school.
“Wow,” replied Mr. Carsone, smiling. “That was a long time ago.”
Lauren was the youngest of five children, and he was the eldest—twelve years older, if I remembered correctly—which would now make him forty-two. He looked damn good for forty-two, too, with a full head of black hair, bright blue eyes, and barely a line on his face. His belt sat tightly around his waist without a hint of a bulge, and tight pecks showed through his white shirt. He clearly worked out regularly.
“How is Lauren?” I asked. “We moved away and lost touch...no Facebook in those days.”
I laughed at my reference to Facebook, but Mr. Carsone didn’t smile.
“Lauren passed away ten years ago.”
I stared at him.
“What...?” I whispered.
Lauren was so full of life...how could she be dead?
“How?” I asked.
“Car crash,” he said sadly.
I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there looking at my hands, and then the tears started to drip down my face. Suddenly, the enormity of my own situation had hit home. Here I was, sitting here alive after basically being resurrected, and Lauren was dead. And the first thing I thought about was getting it on with the surgeon who helped bring me back to life—my dead friend’s brother. I felt sick.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” said Mr. Carsone kindly.
He handed me some tissues, but I couldn’t stop crying. I cursed myself for losing touch with my little friend, and not knowing she was dead all this time. She had written me some letters, and I had never replied. Part of my illness had made me selfish, and I didn’t bother with people as much as I should have. I guess because I always thought I was going to die soon.
“She should be here, and I shouldn’t be,” I said tearfully.
Mr. Carsone put his arm around me as I wiped my eyes.
“Please don’t think like that. She would never want you to think like that.”
He was right. Lauren was a kind child, and I could tell it was a family trait. Many doctors, especially surgeons, are arrogant pricks. But Chad was a nice guy twenty years ago, and nothing had changed.
“Remember when you took us for a ride in your new car?” I asked him, still wiping my eyes. “And it died half way down the road?”
Mr. Carsone laughed, removing his arm from around my shoulders.
“That old brown station wagon? I got it for five hundred bucks. That old junk bucket used to back fire all the time, but it was all I could afford as a medical student.”
We both laughed.
“So, what did you end up doing with your life, Nicole?” he asked.
Certainly nothing as significant as being a surgeon, and I had failed journalism at university. I was so sure I was going to die soon that I just partied hard, in case I died the next day. University was a complete blur. But even though I flunked, I still managed to get a lot of PR work in fashion, which I love.
“I work for myself,” I replied. “In fashion. I cover a lot of events, and I do some PR, mostly online. I also make jewellery that I sell online. I actually sell a lot, so it can’t be too bad.”
I grinned at him.
“I am looking for a present for my daughter’s birthday,” he said. “Could you send me a link to your website?”
“Absolutely. How many children have you got?”
“Two girls, aged twelve and ten. You got kids?”
“Nah. I almost got married, but...that didn’t happen.”
I didn’t feel like going into the fact that I had found my fiancé in bed with my best friend three years ago, and that since then I had hoped death would come sooner rather than later.
Mr. Carsone gave me an understanding smile.
“Yeah...I got married, but I’m not anymore.”
How could this guy not be married?
“What happened?” I asked.
I regretted it as soon as I said it. Like that was any of my business. To my surprise, he smiled again.
“Sometimes things just don’t work out.”
Then I noticed his face started to darken. A lot.
“Look, I better get going,” he said. “It’s been great to see you after all these years! See you again in a few days.”
He went to leave.
“Mr. Carsone?”
He turned around.
“I remember your parents took a lot of photos, including quite a few of Lauren and I. If you know where they are, I would love to see them. Only if you have the time, of course.”
“Yeah, I should be able to dig them up. I’ll bring them to you after the ICD procedure.”
“Awesome,” I replied. “I look forward to it.”
&
nbsp; “Nicole?”
“Yes?”
“Please, call me Chad.”
“Okay, Chad.”
Chad gave me another smile and went to leave again. But I couldn’t resist asking what had been bugging me since he first introduced himself.
“Chad?”
He turned around.
“Why is a surgeon doing duty doctor duties?” I asked politely.
“They were short staffed,” he replied.
He quickly left. I laid back and processed everything that had just happened in the last fifteen minutes. I thought I was dead; instead, I found out I was alive, my childhood friend was dead, and I was brought back to life by her good-looking brother. I had never experienced such mixed feelings in my life. Especially about how I felt between my legs. Chad’s touch had left me tingling between my thighs. I could still feel his touch on my shoulder and smell the whiff of his cologne, which had almost put me into a trance. Stop it, I told myself. He’s your surgeon, he could lose his job, and he’s your dead friend’s brother. Stop being disgusting.
But I still looked forward to seeing him again. A lot.
I was snapped out of my thoughts very quickly by a very fat nurse who suddenly appeared in my room.
“Good evening!” she chortled.
She busied around me, taking my blood pressure, injecting me with goodness knows what, and chortling away about who knows what. I wished she’d hurry up and go away.
“How do you feel knowing Mr. Carsone saw you naked?” she whispered out of nowhere.
“Huh?”
The nurse giggled.
“He can see me naked anytime,” she whispered naughtily.
I did not want to picture her naked, and I doubted Chad would either.
“Women don’t mind being in hospital so much when they meet him. I hope you remembered to shave, young lady.” The nurse laughed at her own words.
I was in disbelief at her unprofessionalism, but secretly glad I had waxed myself yesterday morning.
“Can you believe his wife left him?”
