Chocolate Knights and Chocolate Daze
By Gary Jordan

Copyright © 2002, 2003

Chocolate Knights

Jeanine said, "'Somebody needs to go to the store.'"

Repeated back that way, not really a question, but made so by raised eyebrow, cocked head and hand on hip, it made me feel foolish. I still nodded to confirm that she's heard correctly. After all, why should she be the only one who ever initiated our games? We both knew the codewords. We both enjoyed the play. I mean, really! Light bondage was my idea, originally, so why shouldn't I be the one to request it?

Jeanine looked as though she were considering it. Since the day she lost a wager and agreed to my repeated request to at least try it, she had always been the one to call for the ropes and cuffs. I had no complaints - a coin toss decided who was wearing the restraints - but it had been a while.

Okay, okay. Morning sickness does tend to throw a monkey wrench into games that restrict movement, and dampen the mood besides. But it had been weeks - at least one, anyway - since she had experienced her unpredictable bouts of nausea. And we had hours before the costume party.

She smiled that starburst smile and I knew I wasn't wrong.

But I wasn't necessarily right, either. "After the party, if you're still up to it," she said.

Even better. I had a little scenario in mind that would be in keeping with the party theme, which (if I haven't mentioned it) was "Nights in Armor." It didn't matter who won the toss, my fantasy would work either way.

Of course, I hadn't seen the costumes yet. Jeanine had worked on them in secrecy rivalling the Forbin Project. I didn't have any idea if I would be dressed as a knight or a "faire damselle," or maybe as Jeanine's squire. I was sure I could make any of these work in the fantasy.

I did not take into account how much my scents of humor had corrupted my lovely mate.

After a light meal, it was time to dress for the party. I did the dishes while Jeanine laid out the costumes and put hers on. Then it was my turn. Walking down the hallway to the bedroom, I felt a growing sense of anticipation. I'd get to see these "award winning" costumes (Jeanine assured me) for the first time, and see Jeanine in hers. Would she be an armored knight? A damsel in distress? The queen who bestows her favors on the knight?

I nearly stopped laughing when she kicked me lightly where I lay helpless on the floor. But wiping the tears from my eyes just allowed me to see her in her regalia again, and started another round.

She allowed me to calm myself, grinning the while. Her efforts had had the desired effect and she was justifiably proud of the results. "You like?" she asked.

I worked back to my knees and bowed forehead to floor, arms extended towards her. "I am not worthy, O Mistress!" I fawned and scraped before her superior display of punsmanship.

She bade me rise, and I got the full appreciation of her pun. How to describe our costumes...

The theme was Nights in Armor. Jeanine stood modeling what appeared to be a can of Chili with a well-known blue label. Adorning the label was the yellow band ending in a trade-marked star. (Can you picture it? We were going as Knights in Armour.) The only difference I noted was that hers said, "Chili without Beans" and mine was "with Beans". A stiff hula-hoop affair at the top kept the generally round shape. There was provision for another at the bottom, but she said we'd insert that when we arrived, or we'd never get in the car. The bottom of the "can" was zippered to the rest, with elasticized leg-holes . A pair of four-foot can openers completed the costume.

I had to kiss her before I got dressed - we'd have a hard time getting that close, once I was in my can.

We won "Most Original Costume" and the prize was, appropriately enough, an electric can opener. Sometimes the Almighty has a strange sense of humor, too. Jeanine drove home - despite the best (or worst) of intentions for the remainder of that evening, I'm afraid I drank a bit too much.

Someday I'll get her to tell me what happened when we got home. I woke up the next afternoon pleasantly sore, and with plenty of dried evidence that somebody's fantasies were explored, but every time I ask, she get's a silly grin and clams up. Snickers and Mars Bars haven't worked as bribes, either.

I'm going to have to pull out the big guns. Ghiradeli will make her talk.

Chocolate Daze

"Jeanine," said somebody, "needs to go to the store."

I distinctly remember that much from the costume party, from before the point when alcohol made the rest of the details too fuzzy to recall. Details like who said it, or why Jeanine needed to go to the store. Jeanine wouldn't fill in the blanks, no matter how I wheedled, so I pulled out the big guns. Black Chocolate Chip Cookies with Ghirardelli Morsels. Those would make her talk.

"Out! Out of my kitchen until I'm done!"

"I just want to sample the product for quality assurance purposes."

"You just want to sample until the cookie sheet is empty. Go sit in the living room. I'll bring you one fresh from the oven. Out!"

She stuck out her tongue. I did the same. Since our tongues were conveniently both out, they approached one another, and began to wrestle. Being nobody's fool, I placed my body between Jeanine and the cookies, and found myself wrestling a persistent chocoholic out of the kitchen.

After a brief tussle in the doorway to the kitchen, Jeanine finally gave up. Maybe gave up is the wrong wording. I think she realized I was serious, and that I would let the next sheet burn rather than let her get to them first. Pouting prettily, she tossed her hair and spun on her heel to stalk to the living room.

I got this recipe from a newsgroup, and modified it to suit Jeanine's preferences. The directions said the cookies should be left for a day to bring out the flavors fully. Maybe a third of them would make it to the next day - no way would Jeanine allow me to cache them all, not after filling the house with their smell.

I took the last of the cookies from the oven and put three on a plate . Then I filled a glass with milk and took it and the cookies to my impatiently waiting spouse. When it comes to fresh cookies, Jeanine was from the scorched tongue school.

Today was no exception. How someone can wince, grin, make "mmmmm" noises, and inhale cool air all at once is beyond me. She did, though, and followed the first burning bite with a swallow of milk. Such versatility. The next bite was dunked first, but the density of these cookies didn't allow for much milk absorption; she repeated the odd pain/pleasure pairings.

"So," I began, as she started the second cookie, "about the night of the party..."

She laughed. "You think you can bribe me - mmmmmmmm (damn these are good!) - with a teensy plate of cookies?"

I nodded. "There's more where those came from, but, I won't make anymore until I know what happened."

She laughed her distinctive laugh. I knew I had her. "Fine. I'll tell all, but it's more than a three-cookie story, so you'd better refill my milk and bring in a platter."

In seconds I had zipped to the kitchen, slid a couple dozen cookies onto a plate, and filled a large glass with milk. My swiftness in complying had Jeanine giggling. I settled in to hear the story.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I came back from putting our prize for 'Most Original Costume' in the trunk." It was an electric can opener. "Bill handed me another drink, and we got into a discussion of something important" - women -"and I had a couple more. I wandered over to where you and the girls were gossiping in time to hear someone say you needed to go shopping. After that, it's pretty much a blur."

"That was Glenda. She was pointing out that not much of my wardrobe will fit much longer. I'll need maternity clothes." She grimaced. Jeanine was not exactly a clothes horse, though she had a goodly number of attractive office outfits.

"Anyway, I could see that you'd reached that silent grinning stage in your drinking, and I figured it was time to get you home."

Jeanine got a far-away look in her eyes, and settled in to tell the tale. I resolved not to interrupt unnecessarily.

"I confess I felt a wave of affection for you at that point. You stood there with a nearly empty drink, gazing at me with such adoration. You aren't like Kelly's husband, who gets loud and obnoxious, or Patty's ex-boyfriend, who starts hitting on other women. When you get tipsy, when the barriers go down, you let me know quietly the depth of your love. As rarely as the drinking happens, how could I be angry?" Jeanine looked at me and I could only blush. Then she continued.

"I made both our good-byes and steered you out to the car, laughing at my friends' remarks about the evident and mutual possessiveness and affection being displayed.

"Getting into the car was a problem. The costumes were really designed for help in getting into or out of, and while I could help you, you were in no condition to help me.

"I managed to remove the plastic hoops that gave your costume its can shape. You looked like a crumpled can of Armour Chili with Beans, gazing at me from the front seat. I couldn't resist kissing your nose.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't reach the slits where my own hoops could be extracted. With the hoops in place, I couldn't easily reach the zipper on the bottom surface of the "can" that would at least give me some flexibility in the costume. Remember? All during the party, we had to stand or perch on the arm of a chair or sofa." I nodded, but she wasn't really looking.

"It took me a minute to adjust the driver's seat and tilt steering wheel to allow me to even sit in the car. The hoops wouldn't let me sit back, and the strain on the material was giving me a double wedgie.

"By the end of the thirty-minute drive, I was feeling... anxious. The stress of sitting awkwardly, driving with my arms held out to the side to reduce chaffing, and that ever-present pressure in my crotch was driving me to distraction... I could hardly wait to get inside and out of the damned costume. I decided to remove it with scissors, if I couldn't get you to help.

"I shook your shoulder, and you slowly returned to that dreamy state of adoration. You reached for me, and I pulled your arms to guide you from the car to the house.

"Once we were inside, I left a trail of turned-on lights guiding you to the bedroom. I figured I could go back and get them, once I'd gotten rid of the costume. I certainly didn't expect to leave them on all night - but then, I didn't expect you to..." She broke off, looking at me with a crooked smile.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" We must be getting to the good part. At least, I hoped it was good. Her grin didn't lead me to believe it was bad...

"I should have known better than to ask your help with a zipper while you were in that condition."

"Couldn't I manage the zipper?"

Jeanine laughed. She laughed her delightful laugh, the one that reminds people of Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality, the one with the cute little snort. Since she was sipping milk at that particular moment, the results were a bit untidy.

While I fetched a towel, I wondered what the funny part was. Had my attempts to manipulate a zipper been so hilarious? I mean, what's so funny about a zipper?

Jeanine wiped up the spilt milk. "Are you sure you want to hear the rest of this?"

The automatic nod and "yes" were on pause. But curiosity is a powerful force, and I had gone to a lot of trouble to get to the bottom of this. The nod and "yes" that finally emerged were at least concerned and deliberate.

Jeanine took pity on me. "Okay, the details aren't that bad. Just a little embarrassing maybe - to both of us. I would have told you anyway, but it was so much more fun to get you to 'bribe' me." She ate another cookie through a canary-fed cat grin. I'd been had!

"Anyway, I managed to get you into the bedroom and asked you to undo the zipper. You knelt in front of me and had no trouble at all with the zipper. None." She cleared her throat. "Then you yanked the bottom of the can, along with my tights and panties, down to the floor.

"That wouldn't have been a problem, but you grabbed the bottom hoop and stuck your head underneath. Still no problem - except I couldn't reach past the bottom hoop, and then your tongue started tickling my thighs apart."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Not even when she looked at me with a tolerant smirk.

"Sure, go ahead and laugh. I wanted that tongue where it wanted to go, just as much as it wanted to be there. Like I said earlier, I was feeling anxious. But picture the situation. My panties, tights, and the bottom of the costume were around my ankles. When I tried to spread my legs, I lost my balance. It's a good thing the bed was behind me..."

I nodded and swallowed. Jeanine could have been hurt.

"But it was, and I landed on my back, with my butt just barely on the edge. Naturally, you tried to follow. Moving forward meant you were kneeling on the clothing that was keeping my ankles together. But at least I could move my knees.

"Not that it did me any good. You were still holding on to the hoop. Your tongue was driving me insane, licking up my lips and spreading them, and never quite reaching my poor neglected little clitty, and I couldn't reach your head to direct you where I needed you! That was bad enough, but every now and then your nose would do the job, but not with any predictability. I was so close, I was crying.

"And then you shifted your attack."

Jeanine paused to dunk a cookie and eat it. I was on the edge of my seat in anticipation. Her eyes had a faraway look for a moment, then locked on mine. She swallowed, and grinned.

"I was primed. I don't know how long you had worked on me, but it seemed like an hour. I think if you had breathed on me right I'd have gone off. But no-o-o. When you finally -finally put my honey where your mouth is, you latched on like the littlest puppy on the hind tit."

My turn to smirk.

"I went away. Screaming awakened me, and it was a few moments before I realized it was me. And I couldn't stop. Every time I took a breath, I'd be gone again.

That had to have happened at least six times that I sort of remember, but probably more. You've given me multiple orgasms before, but never quite so overwhelming or continuous." She looked at me. "Of course, since you don't remember it, you probably can't ever duplicate it. More's the pity."

That brought me from smug to merely grinning, and chagrinned, to boot.

"As far as sexual repletion, I was satisfied. More than satisfied. I would have been happy just to roll over, even still in costume, and gone to sleep.

"But someone, while I was still quivering and trembling from the aftershocks, had managed to get his costume off - well, except for the tights and underwear bunched around his left ankle (which I removed the next morning). He had other ideas.

"Before I completely caught my breath, I felt my legs being lifted. Then the mass around my ankles was behind your neck, and I could feel your cock poking around my pussy, looking for a home.

"If I'd had the breath to do it, I'd have begged you to stop, take a rain check, put the launch on hold. But it was too late. The eagle had landed."

Okay, so it was a little embarrassing. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. I would have asked you to stop, but once you started pistoning, well..." She got a goofy grin of her own. "Let's just say that since you were doing all the work, I decided to go along for the ride. Even if I was the ride at the time.

"It felt good. Really good. God knows there was plenty of lubrication and the most obscene squishy noises. I'm afraid I got a case of the giggles, which may have egged you on. Something egged you on, for sure. I finally got glimpses of the clock and you kept up the pace for at least fifteen minutes. I was close again, but beginning to worry about that lubrication, when you leaned forward.

"You didn't change the pace, but with my knees closer to my chest, the new angle had you bouncing off my pelvis and that took me over. Gone again, and then again when I came back.

"You backed up, and my panties and so forth went with you. Despite my exhaustion, I took the opportunity to pull the costume up and off, over my head. I let it fall on the floor and rolled over to crawl to my side of the bed.

"I didn't make it."

"You didn't make it?"

Jeanine shook her head.

I put my head in my hands. In a small voice, I asked, "What did I do?"

"I had probably had a week's worth of orgasms, even if you picked the best week of our marriage. I had come over and over, non-stop at times, and the wet spot alone could have probably put out a forest fire. You, on the other hand were still sporting the woodie you'd started with. All that alcohol, no doubt." She grimaced, then leaned forward with a strange expression.

"I was on my elbows and knees, trying to crawl away. You were behind me with a raging hard-on. What do you think happened next?"

I groaned into my hands. I peeked over my fingers. She nodded.

"I hadn't moved more than a foot or two, when I felt your weight on the bed. Then I felt your hands on my hips, followed by your knees inside my calves, and it didn't occur to me to be concerned or anything. And then..." She sighed.

I'm a connoisseur of sighs. I believe sighs matter. And I was shocked to hear, in this sigh, more wistfulness than anything else. It brought my face out of my hands in surprise.

Jeanine wore a lopsided grin and a deep blush. "Can you remember what it was you were drinking that night? I might want to buy a bottle or two."

I laughed. Guffawed. Carolled, even. I couldn't tone it down to a titter until she pelted me with a cookie. Jeanine tried to look offended, but couldn't carry it off.

"Oh, sure, you can laugh, but it might be a different story if I hadn't been able to reach the Astroglide."

That brought me up short. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no! Look, I was completely relaxed, probably as relaxed as a conscious person can be without drugs. It was a miracle I made it to my knees, and I was about to collapse. And you were well lubricated - in more ways than one. You were inside in a single stroke, at least an inch, maybe two, and without that painful first push.

"In fact, you had begun to move before I managed to grab the lube. There was a little discomfort, but no actual pain, and you took the lube from me when I managed to roll my shoulders enough to pass it back. From there, it just got better. And better.

"There was nothing I could do to help. My arms had collapsed and my face was on my pillow. I could only moan. You were filling me and drawing back in long strokes. I desperately wanted to reach back and diddle myself, but I lacked the energy, and then I felt you reaching around and I knew I'd be fine.

"It was better than it has ever been, in my ass I mean. When you finally found the spot with your fingers, I almost passed out.

"You passed out first."

"I passed out?"

"You passed out. I had a second orgasm while you were in my ass and as I came down from it, we sort of tilted and rolled to our sides. I remember thinking, 'This is a new position,' but you weren't moving. You were still deep inside me, but you weren't moving. And then you started to snore."

"Oh, lord!"

"Yup. I thought about it for a few seconds. You still hadn't come, I felt like I needed to go to the bathroom, but it was too much trouble. So I went to sleep, too."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Sometime during the night, you softened and slid out.

"Damn!"

"So, now you know."

"Now I know."

"Can I fix you a drink?"

The End

The Cookie Recipe

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter, softened
1 1/2 cups dark brown sugar, firmly packed
1 tablespoon dark molasses
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 ounce (1 square) unsweetened chocolate, melted and cooled
2 eggs
2 cups all-purpose flour (unbleached preferred)
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground mace
1 6-oz bag Ghirardelli Chocolate Morsels

Chill the chocolate morsels until needed. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Cover a cookie sheet with aluminum foil and grease it lightly. Using an electric mixer if possible, beat the butter, sugar, molasses, and vanilla together until light and fluffy. Add the melted chocolate, then beat in the eggs. Sift the remaining dry ingredients together to mix thoroughly and eliminate lumps. Gradually add to the butter mixture, until everything is completely combined. Stir in the entire bag of chilled chocolate morsels. Drop by scant teaspoonfuls onto the prepared cookie sheet, leaving room for the cookies to spread out. Bake for approximately 10 minutes; they will still be somewhat soft to the touch. Remove from the cookie sheet with a metal spatula and place on wire racks to cool. Repeat until all the dough is used up, replacing the aluminum foil (and re-greasing) as necessary. Cool completely, then store in an airtight container such as a large "zipper" freezer bag. The flavors will be more intense the following day.

This is a modification of a recipe provided by Ace Lightning ace.lightning@verizon.net