lickA hard day at the paragraph factory behind me, I opened our apartment door and stepped inside. Something was different. Dimmed lights, flickering candlelight, soft music—Gerry Mulligan, West Coast cool.


Junie appeared in the doorway of the kitchen wearing a big frilly apron that I didn’t recognize—and high heels.

She beamed me a big smile. “Ward, you’re home! Your martini is ready! And so is dinner!”

Ward? Cleaver? Looked like tonight’s motif was fifties sitcom. See what happens when your feminist, sex-crazed girlfriend takes the day off?

She pranced up and landed a big kiss on my cheek. “I bet you’re all tired and frazzled from a hard day making deals, you handsome hunk,” she cooed, hands to lapels. “Now you’re home and your little Junie Pooh’s gonna help you unwind.”

She spun around and headed back to the kitchen. What a surprise—all she had on was that apron. In the doorway, she shot me a seductive look, gave her bare little rear end a twitch, and disappeared.

In the dining room, damned if there wasn’t a filled martini glass waiting for me on the carefully set table—place mats, the nice silverware, cloth napkins, the works. Thing is, I don’t drink martinis or any kind of booze. I sniffed and tasted. Chardonnay.

Junie waltzed in, presenting a platter with tonight’s dinner.

“I made your favorites, honey—roasted leg of lamb with mint sauce, garlic mashed potatoes, and creamed spinach,” she said, putting a plate down with a flourish.

We’re vegetarians. The meal looked delicious, though—vegetable samosas, veggie jalfreji, and sag paneer, no doubt from our nearby Indian carryout.

Junie, still wearing her frilly apron, seated herself and ladled out the food. She kept up the fifties small talk: “How was your day, dear? Did you land the Willis account?”

Better not to say anything and let the scenario unfold.

“Mr. and Mrs. Willis were so charming when we had them over for dinner last week,” she chirped. “And that Mr. Willis! What a cutie. While you were upstairs showing Mrs. Willis your stamp collection, he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”


“I couldn’t exactly fight him off, could I? A new client? I’ve always got your career in mind. I felt so sorry for him. He just looked positively sex-starved. I figured with him getting ready to place that big order…”

I tried to pick up the thread.

“Yeah, I really was up there a long time with the old battle ax,” I said. “Who knew she collected first day covers?”

“It gave me time to get to know Mr. Willis a little better.” She shot me a sly glance. “Get the order?”

“Signed and sealed today.”

She smiled. “He just needed some oral satisfaction. It was pretty clear Mrs. W. is neglectful.”

“You blew him here in the dining room?”

“No, silly. In the living room. Your chair.”

I couldn’t resist. “Spits or swallows?”

“Don’t be vulgar. I was only thinking of you. Well, trying to. He’s quite a bit smaller, actually.” She beamed me a big smile. “But you know what I say, it’s not the size of the prick, it’s the prick it’s attached to.”

Since I wasn’t sure if that was meant for me—like most men, I’m painfully self-conscious about my less-than-porn-star-sized cock—I let it pass.

“Well, darling, I really appreciate the sacrifice. That blow job put me on top for this quarter’s sales.” That’s really funny. I’m content manager for a web developer. Sales is on the West Coast.

She fluttered her eyelids. “I knew you’d be pleased.”

Junie cleared the table. Posing in the doorway, she cocked her little round ass. Her chubby labia peeked out between her legs, like a second little behind. Sigh. I could look at her ass all day.

“I think I outdid myself at dessert. I shaved—ha!—slaved over it all afternoon.” Giggling, she disappeared. The sound of the dishwasher getting loaded confirmed I really was getting the full Ward Cleaver treatment.

Junie reappeared brandishing yet another platter. In the center, a cloth napkin concealed an object maybe eight inches high. Junie whisked the napkin off.

A plastic squeeze bottle of Hershey’s Special Dark Chocolate Syrup stood in the center of the plate, surrounded by some sampler chocolates, still in their little black paper cups. You know, coconut cream, maraschino cherry, that kind of thing.

That was all.

“Looks great,” I said with no enthusiasm.

Junie, on the other hand, couldn’t contain her mirth.

“Scoot your chair back.”

Junie orders, I obey.

Hoisting her rump to the edge of the table, she whisked the apron off. Her gorgeous little tits were at mouth level. Junie smiled, inspecting my face as I gazed at two of her more prominent feminine attributes.

Glancing down, my eyes must have bulged. No hair. As in shaved.


I’ll say. Junie eschewed the bald-pussy, porn-actress look. Real women have hair between their legs, she always sniffed.

Before I could say anything, she slid into my lap, grabbed a napkin, and pushed it between us. Then she brought the syrup bottle to her left breast. A squeeze. A dark brown trickle made a beeline for her nipple.

“Quick, Ward! Before there’s a mess!”

I almost got her entire tit into my mouth. Yum! As I started to lap it up with my tongue, Junie drizzled some on her other boob. I snapped right over, licking and sucking like a madman.

We went back and forth like that for quite a few minutes—and God knows how many empty calories. Junie’s dark pink nipples stood at attention, her breath short and fast. Sliding back on the table, she spread her legs and gave the bottle a squeeze just above her mound.

Her voice was husky. “Go for it, Michael, before …”

I buried my face in her cunt, noting that she had stepped out of character. Without any pubic hair in the way, the chocolate streamed right for her pussy folds. I worked hard, really hard, to make sure I got all.

Not easy, though, the way Junie writhed. She threw her legs around my neck, one arm back to support herself, the other holding the plastic bottle just above her pussy. I put my fingers on either side of her hole, pushing her labia together so the dark syrup could pool. I attacked with my tongue and lips, slurping and tonguing.

Junie got vocal, making little whimpering noises as I worked her pussy. She grabbed my head with both hands as her orgasm broke inside her, her hips convulsing.

After the initial spasms, she sprawled back on the table. Her breasts were smeared with chocolate, her exposed cunt lips all sticky and sodden. Her warm, wet pussy emanated a heady odor of mixed lady juices and chocolate. My cock strained inside my pants. As I ran my hands over Junie’s tits and down her tummy, she shivered in delight.

Why hadn’t we thought of this before?

“The candy!” In a flash, Junie flipped to her hands and knees, ass facing me. She pushed the plate of chocolate candies toward me.

“You choose.”

I handed her one. She pulled the paper off and reached behind, placing the morsel in her crack, right over her asshole.

“Mich… Ward, don’t let it fall.”

I pushed her asscheeks together, clamping it in place, and worked the chocolate morsel into her taint with my tongue and lips.

Junie’s body heat did its thing. Ugh. One of those cherry-filled jobs. Hate them. But under the circumstances, could be worse. The candy broke, syrup flowing down Junie’s crack. I devoured the cherry, but didn’t stop tonguing. Junie’s hips started to rock and she moved a hand to her clit, though not before handing me another chocolate.

Junie was back in orbit, on trajectory for Planet O, and vocalizing as I pushed the confection into her asshole. This one had an almond. As I licked up the last of the chocolate, pushing the nut against her anus, Junie came again, bucking and crying out. I swirled the nut against her hole, but not too hard. Then I ate it. Decadent.

I helped her off the table, and she dropped to her knees, pulled down my fly, and released my very stiff cock. My turn: Junie drizzled syrup on my cockhead and shaft before taking me in her mouth.

First slurping my glans, she moved her lips and tongue along the shaft. More syrup. Holding the plastic bottle near my dick, she alternated lines of chocolate and mouth gobblings. A perfect hot dog analogy, except the color was wrong. Her lips and tongue worked my dick with new-found enthusiasm.

“Frosted cock. Who knew it would taste that great?” Her voice was hoarse. “No offense, but I’ve never said that before.”

“Yeah, well, chocolate will do that. And your pussy never tasted better.”

I bent down for a sloppy, come-and-chocolate-infused kiss.

“I’m not done with you yet, Cleaver. Strip.”

As I tore my clothes off, Junie rolled onto the dining table and stretched out on her back. “Still half-full,” she said, shaking the bottle. She drizzled chocolate sauce up and down her nude body, starting with her breasts. Cute little designs, circles and geometric patterns. Oh, look, is that a penis? Very artistic. She filled the depression around her navel—Junie’s an innie, not an outie.

Resting her head in the crook of her arm, she looked at me. “Lick.”

I started with her tits, a light tonguing that avoided her nipples. I wasn’t very careful about getting all the chocolate, either. A fun shower together could be a great way to end the evening. I worked my tongue and lips to her collarbone, along her throat and neck, to her ear and finally her mouth. Another long, deep, chocolaty kiss. Then her other breast.

By the time I reached her navel, Junie was moaning and churning. She reached for my cock, still rock hard. “Give me that thang,” she snarled and squeezed more sauce on my dick. I watched it slide in and out of her mouth, her cheeks concave.

I climbed up the table—a substantial piece of furniture—and clambered over her for a sixty-nine. Burying my mouth inside her swollen, wet labia, I tongue-fucked her pussy. Moaning, Junie worked my cock and balls with both hands, pushing it in and out of her mouth.

I lifted her hips off the table and gave her entire vulva a tongue bath, bottom to top and back again. I worked a finger into her hole and found the rough little spot that sends her to the moon. As I tongued her erect clit, Junie threw her head back and strained her thighs wider as I spiraled around her hard nub.

Junie was back to the brink of another bone-shattering orgasm. My dick popped out of her mouth and she started yelping. Her hips gyrated, pushing her cunt into my face. She was out of control, moaning and crying

Time to fuck. I rolled off the table and picked her legs up, hooking them over my elbows. No words needed. Junie grabbed my cock and guided me in. I plunged balls-deep into her hot, wet depths.

Junie screamed as I pounded her, my knees bent, my hips flailing. We were like animals in rut, pure mindless lust. I watched as her little chocolate-smeared tits bounced on her chest as I banged her, her head thrown back, screams and gurgles emanating from her throat. She came again, the walls of her vagina spasming on my cock.

I kept plunging into her, but slower. As her breathing calmed, I picked up the pace. I kept a steady rhythm as another orgasm approached.

“Michael, you’re fucking me senseless. God, Michael …”

Junie’s orgasm almost jackknifed her off the table. I slowed, but kept on fucking right through her climax.

Passive aggressive? Yeah, probably. But so much fun.

Junie couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Michael, fill me up.” She was barely coherent. “Please. Now. Please.” Then she babbled off into incoherence.

I pushed deeper. Her pussy got even tighter. My cocked swelled inside her, with a stiffness more like oak or mahogany instead of flesh and blood. The hardness started behind my balls, went up the length of my dick and into Junie. Looking down at my cock plunging into her, it was like she was speared on the end of my throbbing, thrusting cock.

I pounded faster, my hands in a death grip on her hips. Junie thrashed and screamed as my orgasm rose inside me. When I exploded, it was like hitting a wall at sixty. My consciousness shattered as I buried my cock deep inside her, hitting bottom, ramming against her cervix as I jackhammered her cunt, firing hot bolts of ecstasy deep into her pelvis. She dug her fingers into my back and sobbed.

I can’t remember a more intense orgasm.

The aftershocks subsided and I pulled out, not caring about the cum dribbling out. I picked Junie up and held her, her legs scissored around my waist, her chest heaving against me as she gasped for air. After a few moments, her eyes focused and looked into mine. I found her lips and gently pressed them to mine for a long and deep kiss. I didn’t want to move. We stood that way for what seemed minutes in a state of post-orgasmic bliss.

Consciousness recovered, we looked around the dining room. Chocolate syrup had leaked out of the bottle, leaving a pool on the table. Some candies lay crushed on the dining table where one, or maybe both, of us had flattened them with our thrashing. At least two chairs were kicked over. My clothes were scattered across the floor.

Streaks of chocolate smeared Junie’s breasts, stomach and vulva, spectacularly devoid of hair. I looked down. Chocolate was clotted in my pubic hair and crusted around the base of my cock. I could see brown streaks on my chest from Junie’s tits. My fingers were sticky.

“Ward, what a mess.”

“Well, Mrs. Cleaver, I’m sure you’ll have everything ship-shape in no time.”

“Sorry, Michael, the fifties are over,” she said, sliding off the table. “It’s a new century. See you upstairs. Don’t forget to put the syrup in the refrigerator.”