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Message-ID: <36910asstr$1024657802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: PJcocoa@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} [Rom Fest] Chocolate Kisses {Gary Jordan} (RP)
Date: Fri, 21 Jun 2002 07:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Disclaimer: Under 18? Go away.
 
This story is my contribution to Pendragon's Second Challenge, the
details of which follow the story.
 
Chocolate Kisses

(MF Rom BD Preg chocolate)

Copyright (C) 2001 by Gary Jordan (pjcocoa@aol.com)
(I love feedback)
 
Jeanine said, "One of us needs to go to the store."
Once upon a time, this statement, uttered in bed, indicated some
sort of feminine hygiene emergency, and the one who 'needs to go to
the store' was - and is - generally me. Lately, the statement has
taken on new connotations, signaling the commencement of foreplay.
Not just any foreplay, mind you, but a foray into the brave new
world of light, consensual bondage. What caught my attention this
time, however, was the tone of voice behind the words.

Jeanine's voice was equal parts annoyed, resigned, and resentful.
None of these vocal qualities can be mistaken for aroused,
passionate, or playful. Even as a member of the congenitally less
perceptive sex, I could not overlook the difference. This was not
an initiative; this was a reluctant acceptance. 

"What do we need?" I asked, cautiously. I didn't think it was safe
to assume that it would be something *she* needed. She'd have said
"Would you please go to the store for me?" Like I said, the
statement she *did* use had become imbued with special meaning.

"You need to pick up some condoms," she pouted. "You used the last
one this morning."

"Ah." That explained a lot. The phrasing meant, "I am up for fun
and games tonight." The tone meant, "despite the fact that the
quartz in my biological clock is vibrating at a much higher
amplitude these days, and you won't give me the one thing I want."
The "b" word was implicit. It had been explicit in several
conversations over the last month.

I got out of bed and started dressing. "Anything I can pick up for
you?" The question was muffled by the polo shirt I pulled on over
my head, but I knew she heard. I didn't hear a response, but saw
her head still shaking as my eyes cleared the collar. Shorts,
tennis shoes next, then check wallet. I leaned onto the bed and
kissed her forehead lightly. "Be right back," I whispered.

The local grocery store was a mile or so away. Not much time to
reflect while driving that distance. I grabbed a hand basket and
started wandering the aisles, thinking. Jeanine wanted a baby. *I*
wanted a baby, but I'd argued that another year would make us
financially better suited to being parents. Neither of us had made
a stand, the discussion was tabled - again. Her current resentment
probably stemmed from the fact that this weekend was a peak
fertility period, and another month would elapse before another
would occur.

Would another year make that much difference? My car was paid for,
hers had a year to go. She was an Information Technology tech for
the state Department of Transportation, and had excellent health
benefits and a liberal maternity leave policy. My job paid better
but the health plan sucked. There were a few vacation spots we
wanted to visit that we might have to forego. Was that a great
sacrifice? 

Then there was the sex. It had always been good - mostly always,
anyway. And lately had gotten even better. Would Jeanine still want
me when she got big and, well, pregnant? My brother had a story or
two in that regard, but I always took his stories with a shaker of
salt.

I closed my eyes and tried to picture Jeanine with a big belly.
And bigger tits. I guess the picture wasn't a turn-off; I could
feel the pressure in my pants. I opened my eyes and looked around
quickly to see if anyone had noticed. I found myself on the candy
aisle. What would Jeanine like? She was catholic in her tastes - if
it contained chocolate, she liked it. But what would commemorate
starting a baby?

It was at that moment that I realized the decision had been made.
Jeanine wanted a baby. I wanted a baby. We would make a baby.

Smiling, I looked at the Almond Joys. Each one had a little bulge
on top, like a Mounds bar pregnant with an almond. The M&Ms, the
ones in the yellow bag, each pregnant with a peanut, bigger and
rounder than their smug brethren in the brown bags. I grabbed a six
pack of the former and a half-pound bag of the latter, as well as a
six pack of Mars bars just out of nostalgia. There was a bottle of
wine in the refrigerator. I headed for the checkout. Condoms were
available there, too.

I asked for a three-pack of my usual brand and paid for my
purchases. The pretty young teenager blushed as she bagged the
condoms. I hadn't noticed if she blushed when I asked for them. If
she continued in this job, she'd have to get over that. But after
today, I wouldn't be contributing to her embarrassment for some
time to come - at least nine months, probably more. That thought
gave me pause - I'd be competing for Jeanine's attention with our
baby. Losing was a foregone conclusion. Could I handle that? If we
started a baby tonight, I'd have nine months to express my concerns.

The drive home was all too brief for such thoughts. Parked in the
driveway, I could see the flicker of candles in the master bedroom.
A single dim lamp showed through the living room window. More
preparations than mine were underway. Inhaling deeply, I locked the
car and entered the house.

In the living room, the CD player was playing Belafonte. Not my
favorite artist, but he was excellent for setting a mood. I turned
out the lamp and took my package down the hallway to our bedroom.
Half a dozen votive candles (vanilla scented) revealed that Jeanine
had gotten a head start. I grinned at the sight.

Each ankle was wrapped in a Velcro cuff. A bungee cord connected a
D-ring on each cuff to the brass posts on either side of the foot
of the bed. Her wrists were also adorned with cuffs; the right arm
held by another bungee cord to the head of the brass bed while the
left was still free, and idly caressing a nipple. A "sleeping mask"
blindfold was in place as well.

"Couldn't wait for the coin toss?" I asked softly, setting my bag
on the low dresser. I deposited keys as well, and began undressing.

"Didn't want to leave the selection to chance," she replied. "I
was being a bitch earlier. I deserve to be punished."

Naked, I sat on the bed. I took her left hand, kissed the
knuckles, then turned it over and kissed the palm, then the inside
of the wrist below the restraint. I extended her arm and pulled the
corresponding cord to the limits of its extension to hook in the D-
ring of that restraint. I leaned close to her left ear.

"The safe word," I whispered, "is 'condom'. "Use the word at any
time, and *all* activity will be halted for the evening." I licked
her earlobe. "Do you understand?" She nodded. "Good. I agree with
what you said. You were very bitchy, and I am going to punish you
as you have never been punished before."

Her head jerked toward me, causing our noses to collide. Even with
her eyes hidden, I could see the question on her face. We *play* at
bondage. Anyone truly into these practices would laugh at how we go
about it, alternating dominant and submissive roles, never
inflicting real pain. Jeanine now wore all of our equipment except
a black cloth gag. We owned and used no whips or clamps, pointy
things or penetrating things save what god gave us (except one
small vibrator, but that hardly counts).

The torture we performed was that of delaying sweet release, or
repeatedly inflicting it, or both. The semblance of bondage merely
allowed us the illusion of submission and dominance, to more freely
express ourselves, and to experience what we might not otherwise
have the courage to seek. Jeanine's face asked if this was about to
change.

I gave no clue. Rising, I went to the dresser. I withdrew a single
Mars bar and the condoms, then returned to her left side. I
unwrapped the Mars bar first, and waved it under her nose. My
little chocoholic can smell that scent at fifty paces, through a
closed refrigerator door and a sealed Tupperware container. She
licked her lips.

"Open your mouth." She did, eagerly. "This is the first part of
your punishment. You must hold this between your teeth; you must
not bite it or break it in any way." She would have said something,
but when she began to close her mouth to speak, the bar was there,
lengthwise across her lips. She groaned instead. "You may only
speak to utter the safe word." She groaned again.

I smiled. Putting chocolate in a chocoholics mouth and requiring
them not to eat it *is* a form of torture. Next, I drew the backs
of my fingernails from above her wrist cuffs to the bottom of her
breast, around the nipple but never making contact. My other hand I
interlaced with hers. I repeated with my fingernails until I drew
another groan. Her nipple was as erect as I had ever seen it,
standing out from the areola like a fingertip. I switched sides of
the bed.

On the right side, now, I repeated the caresses to the same
effect. I hadn't decided where next to tease, so passed a few idle
moments just lightly flicking her nipples in what I hoped was a
random pattern. Jeanine gasped and groaned most encouragingly,
though muffled around the candy bar. I noticed that her teeth had
sunk involuntarily into the chocolate.

I ran my left hand from between her breasts up to her right cheek,
and grasped the Mars bar where it extended beyond her lips. "Open,"
I said. She did, relinquishing the bar. I looked at it. Besides the
imprint of her teeth, her tongue had evidently been licking a hole
through the back.

I plunged the bar lengthwise into her mouth and said "Suck, but
remember; no teeth." As I began a steady in-out rhythm with my left
hand, I cupped a breast and squeezed gently in time to that motion,
occasionally flicking the nipple. I switched breasts often,
sometimes returning to the same breast. Soon, the Mars bar took on
a more rounded, if somewhat disgusting appearance. At the bottom of
a stroke, I stopped with a half-inch protruding, and left it.

I left her like this for a few minutes, retrieving a couch cushion
from the living room. Kneeling between her legs, I slid a hand
under her ass, then lifted, sliding the cushion under from the
side. Her cheeks were on the edge of the cushion. I leaned back on
my heels to enjoy the view.

Waiting for some touch, anticipating, Jeanine began to squirm. Her
nipples never shrank from the earlier arousal, and anticipation
served to keep them at attention. Her mouth continued to work over
the candy bar. The tension in the bungee cords limited her motion.

" Jeanine," I whispered, "are you into water sports?" Her head
shook a vigorous no. "As part of your punishment, I will see to it
that you find it very difficult to stay away from a bathroom for
long." I slipped a single finger into her very moist center, moving
it slowly in and out. With the other hand, I gently pulled her
short curlies, the ones closest to her clit, towards her stomach
and back in time to the finger. I kept this up until I heard a
whimper.

"Jeanine, I am going to torture your sensitive tits," I whispered
again, until they are swollen and aching." I could see her trying
to push the shriveled remnant of the Mars bar aside, to speak. "Not
a word," I preempted. "Not one word except the safe word, If that's
what you want." I added a second finger.

I could see the play of emotions across the unhidden parts of her
face. We really don't use pain, and if I had inflicted anything
like what I was describing, the safe word would have been used. She
wasn't even sure about the threats of abuse - she was very, very
confused. Her arousal contributed to the confusion.

I escalated the threats, and the confusion. "I'm going to make you
feel overpowering nausea, nausea so hideous that even the thought
of chocolate will send you running to the bathroom." That was it.
The stub of the Mars bar disappeared in her cheek and she was about
to utter the word. I substituted my unwrapped cock for my fingers
and sank it to the hilt.

She gasped. Then a sudden realization - "You're not wearing a.."
She bit her lips.

"What did I say about speaking? Are you going to say the safe
word?" She shook her head. "Are you sure?" She shook it again. "One
word, you know the one, and I will stop. I will stop this
punishment. I will stop causing your belly and tits to swell, stop
the threat of a fetus pushing on your bladder. Do you want this
punishment to end?" I slowly withdrew with each word to the lips of
her cunt.

She shook her head yet again, and I plunged again as deeply as I
could. My damp fingers began to circle her clit. "You must be
certain. Your feet will hurt, your back will ache, and eventually,
you'll have to squeeze something enormous through a passage that
feels pretty damned tight to me." I gasped, "Oh God! Even tighter."
I started a steady rhythm, before her squeezing muscles made me
lose control. "You may speak freely," I wheezed.

I noticed a tear or two trickling down her cheeks. Jeanine said,
"Could you untie me, please? I really need to hug you."

I groaned. I didn't want to stop. Maybe I wouldn't have to. I
leaned back, without withdrawing completely. I could easily reach
the ties on her ankles, and released them, first left, then right.
Putting an arm under Jeanine, I lifted and thrust. She slid a foot
or so up the bed. Lift and thrust again and her head was nearly at
the headboard, with enough slack to free her own arms.

She did, and pulled off her mask. She wrapped her legs around
mine, her arms beneath my armpits, and used both to pull me in and
up, bringing my mouth to hers. She still tasted of chocolate. She
kissed me with her whole body, making even my toes tingle. I
couldn't pull back, but I could push in and did, faster and faster.

I don't know why she pulled off the mask. Her eyes were tightly
shut, tears streaming as she pushed to meet my every thrust. I
worried that I might really be hurting her, but when I slacked off
a little, her arms and legs pulled me tighter and she thrust
harder, so I gave her my best. 

I knew I couldn't last much longer. Hell, one of my reasons for
enjoying this bondage scenario was that I could get her excited
before I truly started, so we could finish together the first time
instead of frustrating her until I recovered. But she beat me to
the finish line, clenching internally and arching her back. My lips
lost their purchase and she scroaned - that's a cross between a
scream and a groan - long and loud. Before she was done I joined
her in release - I may have scroaned as well.

I would have tried to roll off, but she still had me trapped in a
full body hug. I tried to keep my weight from crushing her by
locking my elbows while I caught my breath.

Finally, Jeanine relaxed her grip and allowed me to snuggle beside
her. She kept her hips raised on the cushion, though, and raised
her knees as well. Turning her head, she locked eyes with me. Her
eyes were still glistening, tears barely held in check. Her smile
was alternately tender and ecstatic. "I love you," she breathed.

I kissed her smile and replied, "I love you, too." I remembered
the purchases. "Be right back."

I fairly leapt from the bed and grabbed the contents of the bag.
Returning to Jeanine's side, I held up the yellow bag. "Pregnant
M&M's," I grinned. Jeanine giggled. Next the blue and white
package. "Pregnant Mounds bars." I wiggled my eyebrows.

"Goof! Those are milk chocolate - Mounds are dark chocolate"

"And just what," I said, cupping a breast, "happens when they
become pregnant?"

Her giggles became outright laughs, punctuated with that cute
little snort that distinguished her laughter. When she calmed down,
we shared a meaningful silence. Then she looked at the ceiling.

"One of us," she intoned solemnly, "needs to go to the store."

I shook my head. "All of us," I replied, "need to stay right here,
together. I am bound to you forever."

It was a night of chocolate kisses.
 
The End
 

 
Uther Pendragon, in a post to the news group Alt.Sex.Stories.D
{ASSD}issued the following challenge:


Souvie's Mother's Day list of (preg) stories reminded me -- once
again -- how many of the impregnations on ASS* involve fraud, are
forced on the woman, or are otherwise unwelcome. 

Which persuaded me to finally move on Pendragon's Second
Challenge, the rules of which follow:

1: The couple is committed, (not quite limited to married couples,
but the commitment must be comparable). 

2: They have mutually decided (or decide in the course of the
story) to have a child. 

3: They make a ceremony out of the first fuck where a child is one
of the goals. 

4: This is a challenge, not a contest. No judges are involved. 

5: Multiple entries are permitted. (Short fuck if they weren't,
but I mean that several stories may be written for this event.) 

6: There is no rule 6. 

7: Please try for a posting date of Sunday June 24. Please post to
ASSM or ASS, with a Spotlight to ASSD. Please start the subject
line with P2C on both the story and the Spot. 

8: Uther has dibs on the title, "Inaugural Ball." 
 


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