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This is a question Food sex

Tell us your tales of your custard fetish and the rash you got from a bottle of HP sauce. Because we've ALL had a cucumber stuck up our chuff at least once in our lives.

(Question from MissUnexpectedNuttering)

(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 13:50)
Pages: Popular, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

one time i had sex with a pizza
well actually i was raped
(, Fri 7 Aug 2009, 3:31, 2 replies)
I used to go out with a Chinese girl.
One night I asked her if she fancied a 69. She went

"Fuck off I'm not cooking at this time of night!"
(, Fri 7 Aug 2009, 2:21, 5 replies)
Wafer thin
Many moons ago, long before the lovely Mrs Spimf happened along I had another young lady on the go, and blimey did she go. Up to all sorts (no this isn’t about liquorice) I’ve never really understood the food sex thing, the aerosol cream can and the mimsy were never destined to be happy bedfellows and I find it disconcerting to have a saveloy in the room during coitus. Similarly the alfresco thing escapes me: if I want a Cornetto I can do so without the slightest of hint lasciviousness and if I fancy some sexual intercourse then I find soft furnishings compliment the act quite satisfactorily.

Nevertheless young and keen to experiment I agreed to kill two birds with one cone. A picnic rug and (sensibly) a cool box were sourced along with some of Wall’s best selling chilled confectionary (Chocolate & Hazelnut naturally). We found a spot in the moonlight in some (slightly creepy) local woodland.

Despite my apprehensions my young hormones were unperturbed at the prospect of calorific copulation. I won’t dwell on the frippery, I’m not an erotic writer, I'll leave that to Mr Spankey et al. To be honest I was somewhat unsure what to do, clearly I was aware some degree of smearing and quite possibly insertion was required. My first attempt at ice cream carnal capers was to insert the Cornetto into my eager young partner’s rather splendid mimsy – pointy end first mind, she wasn’t a slag. This quickly left me bereft of ideas and things were melting fast. Ah! cunnilingus I thought – hurrah! In our comfy mossy spot under the creepy tree I crouched down and set to work, lapping alternately at clitoris and cream based confectionary with vigor – buoyed by my newly found decadence I decided to see if I could push some of the chopped nuts up her slippery balloon knot with my tongue, shifting down I set to work. This quickly proved ill advised, my adventurous young filly was suddenly possessed by a fit off giggles which served to force the Cornetto back out and on to my forehead and push melted ice cream into my eyes. As I recoiled the Cornetto remained stuck to my temple at a somewhat rakish angle – more giggles. I’ve never looked good wearing a hat. Humiliation was setting in quickly.

Happily my filthy little friend realised this and reached into the cool box and grabbed another Cornetto whilst deftly plucking the spent one from my forehead, tossing it in the air with impressive abandon. My fumblings were quickly forgotten as she tugged at my trousers. I can safely say the first time an ice cream cone is applied to the end of ones throbbing member is a moment never forgotten. With a wicked glint in her eye she knelt down, pushed the ice cream further down my hot shaft then suddenly lunged and bit down hard on the end of the cone! As soon as my pulse returned to mere humming bird levels I began to enjoy this impromptu porno picnic.

All too soon nearly all the ice cream had been eagerly sucked and devoured and my own churns were stirring, as my little minx delivered one last suck something terrible happened – as I flung my head back in ecstasy – the discarded cunnilingus cone felt out of the branches above where it had been lobbed with lusty abandon – smack in my bloody eye. This caused me to thrust forward, pushing the bell-end Cornetto halfway down the poor girls throat, I’ll never forget the horrible choking noise echoing through the woodland; like a lone goose honking at sunset, in fact I realised the whole situation was fast becoming my own willy honker and the chocolate hat tree.
(, Fri 7 Aug 2009, 1:10, 19 replies)
Pilchards
I used to be far more adventurous than I am now. I used to sizzle all sorts of foodstuffs using my partner’s body. Chocolate, cream, coconut milk, custard, raw chicken breasts, the lot.

But I am not going to tell you where it went right. I am going to tell you where it went wrong...

It was an intoxicating night. Blazing hot, and humid. My wench, she was filthy. A sultry damascene filly. We agreed to hold no bars, except my willy bar. That was my willy.

We didn’t discuss what we would do. I shucked my clothes. I lay there on the bed.

She appeared like a harbinger of porn. Took off her clothes. I had a diamond cutter on. It was painful. She shimmered sexily above my body...she planted her maisy above my mouth.

That minx I thought! She has smeared her ladybits with gorgeous ambrosia custard. I could see the yellow glint from her vulva...she was custarded up and willing to smear me.

Then, I got an awful whiff of pilchards.

I decided to carry on...

She juiced me up good and proper. It was only afterwards that I found out she had gonorrhea.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 23:57, 7 replies)
Divorced Chinese
Bindun yet? Chinese couple gets divorced, now she's known as "Foo's Ex"

So solly.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 23:16, Reply)
Maple Syrup SEEMS like a great lickable sex aid, like chocolate sauce
but don't underestimate how sticky it is. It takes fucking ages to lick off a lady's tits, and they'll still stick together afterwards. (Also: don't snigger at how amusing that is, it doesn't go down well either)
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 23:13, 4 replies)
Apricot jam
Following on from my earlier story about the "Twix of Doom" (clicky) this also happened on the same trip, with the same girl...


We’d been shopping in Kendal that morning and I'd bought myself a couple of CDs (as per usual for me). As we arrived back at the cottage she told me to listen to the CDs and that she was going upstairs, but I wasn’t to follow her. I’ll shout you if I want you, she said. I thought this was a decent arrangement so on went the headphones and up she went.

An hour or so later she shouted me so I dutifully climbed the stairs and found her in the bedroom. She tended to dress in sweatshirts and jeans, but on this occasion she was wearing a fancy black dress, she’d styled her hair and pinned it up, had put on some make-up and was also wearing stockings and suspenders with high heels. She smiled at me, a wicked glint in her eyes, and told me to come in and close the door. Once inside she refused to kiss me but unfastened and dropped my trousers, then sank to her knees.

From behind her back she produced a small pot of apricot jam, the kind you find on breakfast tables in hotels, but I’ve no idea where she had obtained this one. Once she had removed the top she put the jar over the end of my penis, twisted it back and forth for a second as if she was chalking a snooker cue, removed the pot and then proceeded to give me a blow job. Wow.

However… many men will understand that there is such a concept of a “dry night”, where no matter what happens to you or how much friction is applied or what the circumstances may be, you will not reach your glorious moment of release. This, unfortunately, was a “dry night”. After about ten minutes she reapplied the jam and continued to bob up and down with great gusto, but I was beginning to, well, hurt. I asked her to stop but she wouldn’t. Then her knees started to hurt and she told me to go onto the bed, where she reapplied more jam and carried on. By this point I was begging her to stop but she carried on, and continued for an hour in total. Afterwards she had cheeks like Dot Cotton from “East Enders”, and I had a sticky, and frankly sore, penis.

I'm just glad it wasn't raspberry jam. Imagine the seeds.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 23:03, 2 replies)
One skin, two skin etc.
The second Mrs. Mong, a great chocolate lover (unfortunately not in the way that is a "special treat" for birthdays and Christmas), whilst we were sat peacefully watching Eastenders with the kids one winters eve pondered "I wonder how many Minstrals I could fit in your foreskin".

Pop one in, roll it up a bit. Repeat until full.

For the record I managed 15 but they were only the small ones you get in packets from a garage.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 22:35, 4 replies)
Repost
www.b3ta.com/questions/toomuchinformation/post89496
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 22:09, Reply)
well it would be a shame to waste it
wiki.answers.com/Q/Speaking_sexually_what_is_space_docking

WARNING - may contain nuts
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 21:33, 5 replies)
Sex with a fruit?
That's just gay.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 20:45, 4 replies)
Smarties.
Smarites long ago lost their innocence for me. One thing about smarties is when they *ahem* return from their 'quest', they are completly white, the colour has to go somewhere. Cue rainbow snatch. What a party trick. But if filling your mouth with them, then giving a blowjob, be very very careful not to split the shells :) He thought we were gonna have to go to a&e. What a baby, I didn't moan when he lost those jelly beans.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 20:43, 1 reply)
Totally off topic but....
Can't believe I made it onto the Best page of the mobile phone disasters qotw. Thanks all for your comments...

Back on topic. Food sex, right? Same fiance in the previous question and I 'did it' with a Cadbury's Twirl, thinking the chocolate would melt really easily and be sucked out (rather a big fan of cunnilingus, sorry)
Turns out the temperature inside my ladygarden isn't hot enough to melt chocolate completely. Not so good when despite going at it like a puppy eating a Weetabix said chocolate confection snaps off and resists all efforts at removal. For a few days it was weird to go for a wee, wipe and get a choccy skid mark.

And inadvertent food sex. Going out with a bloke who was a rather fab cook (Thai food espeshly) who, after cooking me a fab meal and being thanked in the time honoured fashion, thought he was onto a winner when I started howling like the American Werewolf in London. Not pleasure. Pain. He'd not washed his hands after chopping bird's eye chilis. I resisted his suggestion to go to Casualty, not fancying telling some junior doctor how I've come to have third degree chili burns on the holiest of holies.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 20:37, Reply)
When this gets approval from the FDA...
...I will be all over this shit.

www.baconsaltblog.com/2009/04/our-newest-product.html

In case you don't feel like accessing the hyperlink, it's bacon flavored personal lubricant.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 20:03, 3 replies)
Bread
In my younger more sexually exploratory years i often found myself looking for things to help me masturbate.

And this is how i gained the nickname Hovis.

In a Cider fueled conversation i let it be known to my school mates that i had once tried fucking a loaf of unsliced bread.
I even used mayonnaise for lubricant, It was awful, crumbs under the foreskin etc.
I still reached a climax though, rude not to really.

I then cut the good end of the loaf off and put it back in the bread bin
Dont tell this to school friends, it wont remain secret.

Length? Half a loaf used.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 19:57, 2 replies)
Surely Bindun
Trebor mints are a minty bit stronger...Stick them up your bum and they last a bit longer.....


*loses will to live*

*takes out mint*

*forgets*

*eats*

*spews*
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 19:52, 2 replies)
Hmmm, Clorets...
Housemate's packet of Clorets, hmmm nice very nice indeed...
Housemate turning volume right up on TV in room next door while I'm enjoying his Clorets with the missus, Priceless!

Sorry bud! No apologies for length or strenght tho!
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 19:37, Reply)
Mystery kitkat
Its fun to include food in sex, but it gets scary as fuck when you find a kitkat in its wrapper stuck to your partner. When 1.she doesn't like kitkats, 2.you cant remember buying kitkats since you owned this bed and 3. she showered not some five hours ago.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 19:33, 1 reply)
Supermarket in-your-endo shamefest
After spending a weekend hanging about with some friends I said farewell and trundled back up the A1 to Hull. Once there I needed to get some shopping in. If you are allready yawning at the thought of this, so was I. Tired after spending all weekend listening to 'your mum' jokes and driving, I was in a near sleep trance when I made it to the checkout.

The youth behind the till innocently asked if I wanted any cash back as I blearlily handed over my card. Keenly honed over the weekend my refelxes jumped in:

YOUR MUM WANTS MY CASHBACK *hipthrust*

In that instance I realised I was surrouned by strangers queing. I shrank to about 6" tall and scurried off muttering 'no thanks I dont require any cashback"
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 19:25, Reply)
Just a waste of good food, all it is.
Me, I save the comestibles for the inevitable post-lovin' hunger I experience. The spouse claims to judge his performance based on whether I just want a snack or a full meal.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 19:15, Reply)
Food Sex Threesome-Related Pearoast!!!!
Originally in the 'Found' QOTW, where it was tenuous at best, but right at home here....

Basically, during a night of heavy drinking back in our student days, a friend got a text from a girl he'd been chatting to earlier in the night asking him to come to her room as she needed his 'help' with something.

He leaves the college bar and heads round to her room only to find the door unlocked and her and another girl from our year semi-naked on the bed, one of them smearing the other's breasts in chocolate Haagen-Dazs.

Now, for most red-blooded, hetero, male teenagers this would be one of the best things you could ever stumble across. For him, however, his drunken mind spoiled the moment.

You see, he put the fact he'd watched her knocking back the snakebite earlier in the night together with the text message asking for help and reasoned that rather than an invitation to join a threesome, what he saw before him was a girl who was so drunk she'd shat herself being incompetently cleaned up by her friend, who was so pissed herself that she'd just ended up making the situation worse by smearing the aforementioned shit all over the place.

He exclaimed 'I'm NOT getting involved in that', turned on his heel, and walked out.

The worse bit about it was that they both kept apologising for offending him for the next couple of days while he was internally kicking himself over and over again for being such an idiot.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 18:38, 2 replies)
Probably this
Clicky for repost
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 18:24, Reply)
Twix of Doom
My first girlfriend and I were together for about two and a half years. A few weeks before we split up we went on a short break to Cartmel in the Lake District, renting a cottage from my auntie’s boss. We had a nice time there, wandering around the priory, eating toasted teacakes and crumpets in a small tea shop, but a more deviant event was on the horizon.

“Would you eat something out of me?” she asked one evening.

I confess I was rather bewildered and wondered what she could mean: A banana? Some chocolate? A pie? I suggested these things and she decided that a Twix would be a good idea.

The next morning we walked to the local Spar shop and, being a chivalrous type, I allowed her to choose her Twix. As the chocolate was slightly soft I suggested that we should maybe put it into the freezer for a while so that it wouldn’t melt in a flash (amongst other things) and she agreed.

“I’m ready,” she said late that evening. She went upstairs before me while I retrieved the Twix from the freezer, following in her footsteps moments later. When I reached the bedroom she had already undressed and was lying on the bed, her legs apart. For a moment I wondered how I was going to do this: do I actually remove it from the wrapper or do I shove the whole lot in? Do I put one finger in or both of them? I didn’t want to ask as I felt this would just make her nervous and would hardly instil confidence in the poor girl as she lay there, legs akimbo, about to be penetrated by a chocolate bar. I decided to insert a single finger and opened the wrapper, suddenly noticing that the chocolate was covered in a slightly grey sheen of condensation having been in the freezer all day, and was also as hard as a pavement, my thumbnail failing to leave an impression when I tested it.

“This is going to be cold,” I warned before introducing the Twix. She gasped as it slid inside and I left about an inch of it sticking out. For a moment I looked at the rather ridiculous and mildly scary sight before me, before bending down and biting off about half of the exposed finger of Twix.

Without warning the whole thing vanished inside her. Gone. I panicked, completely baffled, wondering what I should do. I didn’t think it would be The Done Thing to prise apart her labia like a mechanic lifting a bonnet before rummaging around inside, so I just lay there, staring, wanting to cry for a moment.

And then a thick, brown liquid began to ooze from her pubis. Terrified that it would ruin the sheets – which, after all, were not ours – I thrust my hand between her thighs and caught the melted chocolate as it dribbled out, but my hand quickly filled and I was then forced to consider what I was going to do with a hand full of rather hot melted Twix as I could hardly say “just crimp yourself off, love – I need to go and wash my hand”, so screwing my eyes shut I licked it off my hand while my other one was slowly filling.

Then, just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the biscuit base popped out, completely, eerily clean, stripped bare of chocolate and caramel, like an albino penis. I pulled it out and, hands full of chocolate, quickly ate it while I awaited for her sugary genital deluge to stop.

I don’t think I’ve eaten a Twix since.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 18:21, 29 replies)
Banana Sunday.
When I was younger I had a girlfriend. A real one. All for me. We shall call such a time BI (Before Internet) as we all know anyone on here is a fat internetty geek. Now this young “lady” was absolute filth and up for virtually anything, unfortunately her idea of a threesome differed somewhat from mine and as a result we couldn’t agree on a way forward until one weekend when we were staying over at my dad’s place (I lived with Mum and he was away with his girlfriend). Poking around for something to eat I came across a bunch of bananas. These must have been S & M bananas because they weren’t just any bananas, oh no. They were fucking huge quite straight and even when peeled could have satisfied quite a cavernous clopper. I saw the lustlights go on in little miss filthytime’s eyes and knew what was coming.

“You could shove one of them up my snatch and give me a good brown ramming at the same time. That way I could pretend I was getting two blokes and you wouldn’t go off it cos your mates balls are banging against yours.” However, all was not so simple. She didn’t fancy the mess or the almighty douching needed to get the mashed up banana out of her coochie so insisted we chill it a bit and after peeling it put it in a lucky bag. So off we go and a smashing time was had by both. I gave her back doors a good kicking and she frigged herself rotten with the fruity fuckable. But the story doesn’t end there.

A couple of weeks later my Dad took me aside while we were visiting and severely castigated me.
“You filthy little bugger !” He said.
“Fuck! How did he find that out? I washed the sheets!” thought I.
Seeing the look on my face he explained further.
“If you’re going to introduce your young ladies to such practices, at least throw the thing out afterwards. I found a jonny full of brown squishy stuff and it burst as I picked it up. Thank Christ it was banana and not what I thought. Scruffy bastard.” He banned me from unsupervised stopovers for 3 months. I was 19.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 18:17, Reply)
A looong(ish) time ago...
I was with a young man I'd met at uni, and he'd come to spend the weekend with me at my family home. We'd bought some of that chocolate body paint (sweet, syrupy stuff - see the Ann Summers website), and anticipated a weekend of fun.

Well, fun was had, and in our post-"fun times" state we just dropped the tube on the floor of my bedroom and drifted into a satisfied sleep.

What we hadn't done is screw the top on the tube, so it had leaked all over my rug (on the floor! The rug on the floor!), making it look as if one or both of us had shat on the floor.

To make matters worse, I tried to scrub it off with a pale green towel...

Think of the looks I got when I put *that* out for washing!
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 18:14, Reply)
Welsh Girls
This was in a meeting at work, FFS.

I was at the front of the room, presenting something in an internal department meeting with about ten of us in it. One quite sweet but oddball girl from the valleys who works with us was sitting right at the front, absent-mindedly swirling her finger in her belly button (she was wearing a skimpy top), which I found quite odd, if somewhat arousing.

She then extracted something from her belly button and stared at it. I couldn't ignore this any more, it was too weird.

'Er... What's that?'
'I dunno, I found it in my belly button, like... I think it might be crumbs from something I was eating at lunch, or summin''

She put her finger to her lips and tasted.

'Nah - it was just cum'

Tenuous, I know, but this QOTW reminded me of it and I thought I'd share.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 18:12, 1 reply)
Sorry to lower the tone,
but there are certain flavours which do not go together.

Add minge and scooshy cream to that list.

Whoever thought that was a good idea should have a good long think about what they've done.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 18:01, 1 reply)
I had sex with a Swede
...in Sweden.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 17:59, 2 replies)
Doggy style ...
Last summer my fiance and I had a spate of devouring those conical Fruit Pastille ice lollies. Just the thing on a hot day.

On such a hot day, I was at his place fiddling with his tv, retuning it or some such, I can't recall. I was kneeling down on the floor in front of the goggle box as one is wont to do, and wearing hipster jeans at the time, my peachy bum crevice was on display and would have done a builder proud.

Himself creeps up behind me and sticks his Fruit Pastille lolly down my crevice, causing me to leap into the air and drop the tv remote, squealing at the frozen invader, which he of course thought was hilarious.
"Right, you can lick that off now," says I, and he laughed and gave the sticky cold area a few licks. Then he wandered off, and I got back to fettling the tv, wincing at the fruity liquid running down my arse.
A couple of minutes later I feel licking in this most intimate area yet again, and very nice it was too. But without turning I say, "Look you, I'm never going to finish this if you keep doing that."
He replies, from oddly far away, "What ? I'm not doing anything !"
I look around to challenge this and find to my horror that it is not him who is nuzzling my crevice and enjoying the sweat and sticky ice lolly therein, it is his guide dog, Otto the Labradoodle.

I have never been able to live this down, and my fiance has told all our friends about it.

As the dog is in effect a "minor" in our care courtesy of Guide Dogs for the Blind, I couldn't work out whether he had violated me or I had violated him. :)
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 17:40, 1 reply)
extra strong mints...
works for both partys.
highly highly recommended.
(, Thu 6 Aug 2009, 17:22, Reply)

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