b3ta.com board
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Food sex » Page 8 | Search
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.

I once ate Gu chocolate pudding...
off a willy.

I was a bad girl that day.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 22:56, 5 replies)
Custard puddings in the Algarve.
A couple of years back, I was on holiday in the Algarve, mostly kicking about looking at old churches and having a culinary tour of the region. Well, trying to, anyway. I'd spunked most of my cash on transport, and didn't have that much left over, certainly not enough to sample the finest delights of Portuguese cooking whenever I wanted. I like fish as much as the next person, but when you're eating cheap salted cod every day for breakfast, it soon starts to pall. After a week of fish, vegetables, nice architecture and vinegary wine, I was getting desperate for something new, something nice.

And, by god, I found it. The holiest of holies. In Praia da Luz. The Pasteis de Nata.

They're basically custard tarts, and widely available throughout the country, but it was the first time I'd come across them; after a week of salty fish, they were a revelation. I was grabbing a coffee in some random cafe, and the waitress brought me a free one. It looked fairly unassuming on the outside, but when I bit into it, it was an almost orgasmic pleasure. And immediately (my mind ever working thus) I wanted an orgasm. A custardy, flaky-pastry orgasm. I bought half a dozen and went back to my hotel room, shuffling awkwardly to hide my arousal.

As soon as I'd locked the door, I flung myself onto the narrow bed, wriggling out of my clothes, gasping in anticipation. With trembling fingers I pulled open the little paper bag, shaking cinnamon powder over my thighs, bits of pastry settling into my damp pubic hair. I brought the first one to my lips, slid my tongue over the smooth face of the custard, before forcing it through the slight resistance of the surface, enveloping my tastebuds in that cool, creamy flood of taste. My groin tingled as I got another little piece of ecstasy from the bag; with a sudden movement, I clenched my fist, crushing the pastry and watching the yellow filling spurt out from my fingers. As I rubbed a further two tartlets onto my erect nipples, my custardy finger played with my groin, taking me to the edge of orgasm, and I stuffed a fifth pudding up my warm, welcoming arsecleft. My climax hit, and as I surrendered to wave after wave of warm, throbbing bliss, I stuffed the last tart in my mouth, savouring the sweetness as I writhed over the bed, leaving eggy stains on the sheets.

As I cleaned myself up, I regretted having only bought 6 of these little delights, having made all but two of them inedible. I was still hungry, but had spent the last of my cash. So I stole a small child from a neighbouring hotel and ate her raw. Yum.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 22:04, 2 replies)
I'v e been loving you too long...
Otis Redding. My fiamce once ate me out while that played in the background. Food (for him) sex (for me) the best orgasm I have ever had. Thought I'd never stop shaking.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 21:11, 3 replies)
I know what you did etc...
... it was a warm and sunny day and myself and Mrs The Cat were sunning ourselves in the garden, enjoying a few lovely glasses of Chablis under the shade of the tree, while the kittens frolicked around the garden enjoying themselves.

However, young master kitten was nowhere to be seen which was a little odd. We paid no attention at first assuming he was inside playing on his games console thingamejig.

As the weather was so clement, Mrs The Cat decided that he should come outside and take advantage of the sun and thus despatched me to go and bring him out. He was indeed in his room but was on the computer rather than on his console, but the scurrying sounds after I knocked the door got my feline senses alerted.

By the time he opened the door, the computer was off, nothing seemed amiss yet he still seemed a little flustered, so i thought I'd have a wee look at the browsing history later.

My earlier suspicions were confirmed when I checked the website he had last visited, there infront of my eyes was a section containing different words for the act of coitus on the Forum Of Obsolete Dialects.

I could best describe it as F.O.O.D.sex.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 18:41, Reply)
Figging
"Figging" is a delightful practice I happened upon some years ago during my exploration of BDSM.

Basically, it involves carving a root of fresh ginger into a butt plug before thrashing the daylights out of the "figged" arse. The owner of said arse then finds it even more deliciously painful when they clench their balloon knot, the natural reaction to having a damned good caning, and squeezes out stinging ginger juice. A different kind of pain altogether, quite distracting so I'm told. All of which goes to make for great foreplay and epic shagging afterwards.

I believe the practice stems (so to speak) from horse dressage, a figged horse won't drop its tail.

Anyway, I can thoroughly recommend serving up a stir fry, complete with some lovely fresh ginger, to one's partner's very VERY straight friends, the day after a spot of figging.
"Hmmm, lovely this, can't beat a nice bit of root ginger, can you?"

No, quite. The looks you get shot by your partner are almost as attractive as her squeals the previous evening, the fact she doesn't stop you just confirms she's every bit of a perve as you are.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 18:30, 13 replies)
hated them before, hate them even more now...
what? you may wonder?

Cadburys creme eggs, yuck, absolutely gross chocolate covered pus type things.
Anyhoom, me and the then Mr Butterface were going for a meal with my parents so theyre driving us up there when the convo gets onto creme eggs. my parents smile at each other and proceed to describe in crippling detail, how they used to eat theirs, apparently half up my mum, and half on fathers cock. I havent eaten one since, i wont even have them in my house. Needless to say the meal did not go well, and mr Butterface promptly buggered off and never called again. And this is why my parents have never met another mr Butterface.


Length? Fathers inabillity to send text messages to the correct people when drunk has ensured i also know the answer to that *cries* my parents have ruined my life.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 17:41, 6 replies)
My Nan (Slight return)
Years ago, I guess I was about 12, I went to visit my Nan for dinner, but for some reason I was running late, so by the time I let myself in, she was already eating, and, honestly, this plate of meat she was eating was huge, absolutely huge, and my Nan was only a skinny old thing. I actually commented on the size of her meal.

‘I know, but by the time I got in, I was so hungry I felt like I could eat a horse’ she said.

And to be fair, judging by the size of the plate she had, I almost believe that she actually was.

It seemed kind of odd though, because she’d been shopping with my Mum that afternoon and my mum had taken her to lunch at some chain tacky steakhouse thing, Bernies Grill or whatever and had come home moaning that my Nan had had the largest, most expensive steak on the menu. She said something like ‘I don’t know how she did it, but I may as well have just bought her the whole cow’.

Although thinking back, she always did have a voracious appetite, I remember when I was younger we’d been to a Jamaican market somewhere around Brent Cross or somewhere and she’d gone to a food stall and ordered a massive goat curry. At the time I found the idea of goat curry repulsive, but she scoffed it all down in seconds, literally just opened her throat and it was gone.

Still, I shouldn’t have been surprised that she ate the curry given that she lived near a Korean restaurant that was widely rumoured to sell dog meat if you had the right connections, and apparently my Nan did, or at least claimed she did, cos she was always bragging about eating it.

What with that and her willingness to eat take away from the cheapest Chinese on the street, I guess there was nothing that phased her. You know the type of take away I mean, where everyone believes that the serve cat instead of chicken.

What’s absurd is that she also had a taste for the finer things. If someone else was paying she loved nothing better than a stuffed pheasant or some other game bird. She could easily eat a whole one.

My favourite story though, was when she was on holiday somewhere exotic and came back saying she’d eaten tarantula. Christ, my stomach churned at the thought of eating a spider.

Shit, sorry, I am waffling, the point is, despite her food extravagances, she was as tight as a gnats proverbial, she refused to spend even the slightest amount of money on basic hygiene products for example, so her house was this filthy fly ridden dump of a place. Really disgusting, always things buzzing around your head, had to keep swatting them away from your mouth and stuff, it was grim.

She died..

And how did she die?

She choked on my cock.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 17:05, 6 replies)
The cream boy
I use to work for a popular computer company and one of our services was to repair customers PC for a fee. Anyway, The chap who worked in this department use to have a quick look at customers history and movie files. Some time we use to get some good porn and other times many home movies of parties etc.

So as it happens this customer reports his PC freezes why doing anyway. so this chap (We'll call Peter) sat there most of the day opening and closing files and trying to see what caused the PC to crash. So later that day Peter came running up to me unsure if he wanted to laugh or throw up. It turns out he's found the customers porn stash and inside there are a few "Home" movies. Now they were labeled 1,2 & 3 so poor Peter just opened them up. Now the first contained the customer tossing one off, the second had him pour cream over his man hood then toss one off and the 3rd one the worst of the worst.

The video opens with a towel on the bed. This guy pops into the screen and hold up a tub of cream, he then proceeds to bend over on all fours on this towl with his arse in the air for all to see and pours cream all over his arse. He then continues to rub his hairy backside while fingering his brown eye. He then take a large wooden spoon and jams it right into his crack, pulling it out slowly he turn to the camera holds it up close for you to see this whitish cream covered spoon before sticking it in his gob.

Only 2 girls 1 cup has given me that feeling of "oh my god" since and TBH Peter never looked at customers porn since.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 17:01, 4 replies)
...
Frankly, I cant ba arsed going into details but I used squirty cream with my girlfriend once. I had a shower afterwards. I had a shower the next day.

But at work the next day, I couldn't help smell a smell around the office (you know where this is going don't you?). At about 11am I realised it was the sour smell from my chest and was promptly fired two days later after complaints from the other staff.

True story. Other things helped contribute why I was fired (mainly lies, they were all midlle aged women [not being sexist but I found them to be very bitchy] and me being a 20 year old lad at the time, they never liked me from day one, so they compained that I was asleep at my desk and other such utter bullshit) but I was politely asked to see my union manager during work who's exact words was "people are out to get you". I handed my notice in the next day to get in there first and not fuck up my references at a new job.

At least my new job is great though! Sorry about lack of funny, but I don't really have one.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 16:55, 2 replies)
It was a bit of a busy summer
... it was a warm and sunny day and myself and Mrs The Cat were sunning ourselves in the garden, enjoying a few lovely glasses of Chablis under the shade of the tree, while the kittens frolicked around the garden enjoying themselves.

However, young master kitten was nowhere to be seen which was a little odd. We paid no attention at first assuming he was inside playing on his games console thingamejig.

As the weather was so clement, Mrs The Cat decided that he should come outside and take advantage of the sun and thus despatched me to go and bring him out. He was indeed in his room but was on the computer rather than on his console, but the scurrying sounds after I knocked the door got my feline senses alerted.

By the time he opened the door, the computer was off, nothing seemed amiss yet he still seemed a little flustered, so i thought I'd have a wee look at the browsing history later.

My earlier suspicions were confirmed when I checked the website he had last visited, in which, to my horror, Noah and his 3 sons were pulling a train on a bemused looking gazelle.

I could best describe it as Flood sex.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 16:12, Reply)
Also sometime last summer
... it was a warm and sunny day and myself and Mrs The Cat were sunning ourselves in the garden, enjoying a few lovely glasses of Chablis under the shade of the tree, while the kittens frolicked around the garden enjoying themselves.

However, young master kitten was nowhere to be seen which was a little odd. We paid no attention at first assuming he was inside playing on his games console thingamejig.

As the weather was so clement, Mrs The Cat decided that he should come outside and take advantage of the sun and thus despatched me to go and bring him out. He was indeed in his room but was on the computer rather than on his console, but the scurrying sounds after I knocked the door got my feline senses alerted.

By the time he opened the door, the computer was off, nothing seemed amiss yet he still seemed a little flustered, so i thought I'd have a wee look at the browsing history later.

My earlier suspicions were confirmed when I checked the website he had last visited, there infront of my eyes was Dave grohl buggering the lead singer of Twisted Sister.

I could best describe it as Foo/Dee sex.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 16:07, Reply)
Overoptimistic
I'm a single man, but I have Baileys Häagen-Dazs in the freezer
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 15:49, 8 replies)
Ice Cream Mousse doesn't work.
My second laughable disaster was with those tubs of ice cream that come in packs of 8 or so frrom the supermarket, raspberry ripple usually, more mousse than ice creams.

Having got a couple from the freezer on a very hot day (we were already thus semi-naked) we decided to utilise them to cool other parts of our bodies down. First she picked up hers and pasted it all over my cock before licking it off in a manner that appeared she'd prefer the introduction of sugar-based snacks into every love making situation.

When it was my turn however, things weren't as much fun, I can only imagine that having been so turned on by giving me head she didn't require the additional lubrication of the ice cream mousse, because when I smeared it onto her it somehow reacted with her own juices and curdled the ice cream. I'll never forget it to this day, the mixture of warm and cold, sweet and sour, the horrid slimy consistency with the feint tang of raspberry...

Of course being the doting lover that I am I had to smile through the whole ordeal and pretend that I was thouroughly enjoying this coagulated cocktail of calamity.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 15:34, 2 replies)
Raspberry Revenge
I'll keep the story brief as I only read the short ones myself.

Long story short my favourite dessert many years ago was the Sarah Lee Raspberry Danish from the frozen aisle. Whenever I was feeling down, or my girlfriend had pissed me off, she'd produce the dessert as a peace offering, much like the petrol station bunch of flowers.

One day I was so pissed off at her, even the Danish wasn't going to help, I was expecting one when I got home, but I had different plans for this one.

When she produced it I said "You know what'd be really sexy?"... "If I smeared it all over your body and licked it off". I led her upstairs, foil-cased Danish in hand, opened it up and got started. For anybody who's never seen one of these desserts it's far more pastry than anything else, so not really suited for the task. That didn't stop me getting stuck in tearing bits off, making sure plenty of cream and rasberry juice was used as a bonding agent.

Finally when she looked a complete and utter mess and was visibly turned on at the prospect of me licking it off, I buggered off downstairs and watched telly.

To this day I still think it's the harshest thing I've ever done, but I WAS really really pissed off with her, although I can't remember specifically why!
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 15:25, 6 replies)
Sometime last summer.....
... it was a warm and sunny day and myself and Mrs The Cat were sunning ourselves in the garden, enjoying a few lovely glasses of Chablis under the shade of the tree, while the kittens frolicked around the garden enjoying themselves.

However, young master kitten was nowhere to be seen which was a little odd. We paid no attention at first assuming he was inside playing on his games console thingamejig.

As the weather was so clement, Mrs The Cat decided that he should come outside and take advantage of the sun and thus despatched me to go and bring him out. He was indeed in his room but was on the computer rather than on his console, but the scurrying sounds after I knocked the door got my feline senses alerted.

By the time he opened the door, the computer was off, nothing seemed amiss yet he still seemed a little flustered, so i thought I'd have a wee look at the browsing history later.

My earlier suspicions were confirmed when I checked the website he had last visited, which can best be descibed as animated porn, in which a Warner Bros rabbit was being rogered by his shotgun wielding foe.

I could best describe it as Fudd sex.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 15:23, Reply)
Beurre blanc sauce
It's 90 percent butter, ten percent tears. Making it is like having one's anus reamed by John Holmes with wingnuts screwed to his langer. Don't do it, kids... Rather eat mickey d. That is all.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 14:07, 2 replies)
The curious incident of the dog in the night time
Not strictly on topic but close enough....

Many moons ago when I was a teenager, my friends and I had a party or two during the summer hols and these, more often than not, involved a large amount of alcohol and japery.

Now we had a friend, lets call him Steve, whose 'party trick' was tapping you on the shoulder and showing you his penis, often turgid. As you can imagine this joke got pretty old pretty quickly so we hatched a cunning plan to exact our revenge...

One morning after the night before, Steve groggily wakes up on the sofa with his one-eyed-spitting-cobra being chewed on by his dog. The thing was in tatters and all we were doing was standing round him and laughing. That split second before he realised that we'd stuck a sausage in his fly and set the dog on him is one that will stay with me to my death bed.

He still shows us his penis though.

Cheers
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 13:44, Reply)
I should have known...
As I used to laugh my tits off when it happened to Alan Partidge, but chocolate sauce is NOT a sexy thing to have poured all over yourself and licked off. You will end up very sticky and all your body hair will get stuck together!
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 13:09, 4 replies)
Surely I'm not the only one?
I can't be bothered checking all the posts in detail, so this might have been said.

But:
Am I the only b3tan who thinks that food can be a lot more pleasurable than sex? (I suspect /talk are going to have fun with this...)

Put it this way: I'd happily spend a week planning a meal; all day preparing it; and hours eating it. Other people may be involved, but the pleasure of the food would be at least partly independent of that. Granted that good sex takes time as well, it still doesn't compare.

I've not phrased this very well. Hopefully you can see what I mean, even if you disagree; but maybe a few will agree.



OK: I don't post much; and the more I think about it, the more I think that I should post less.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 13:03, 5 replies)
When I used to live in sunny Bangkok
a mate came to visit. He brought the usual things over, marmite, porn and for some reason six cream eggs. I think it was close to Easter, and he thought I liked them. I don't, dirty sweet horrible things that they are.

Anyway, fun and filth was the name of the game for the week he was there, and as the time for the obligatory trip to Eden approached- Eden is a famous 'gentlemens club' in Bangkok, famous because anything goes, it used to be the best, but is now a bit rubbish- we were wondering what our theme would be. We liked to have one to spice it up a bit. Then the cream eggs, and their advert were remembered.

The girls looked a bit miffed when we produced chocolate eggs and told them they were to go up their arses. They looked surpised when instructed to shit the melted results into our mouths, but then we were paying.

So if anyone asks me 'How do you eat yours?' I can tell them with only the tiniest smidgin of shame 'Out of a Thai whore's arse'.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 10:07, 9 replies)
The stripper
My mates 18th and we decided to get him a stripper. Pub full of people, in walks a beauty of emmense proportion and the beer garden errupts.

My mate is loving it, her top comes off and the cream comes out, he licks his way thru a doubleD set of tits.
He then goes green and throws up.

Shaving foam looks alot like cream, in the dark.
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 8:44, 2 replies)
Hell comes in a tub.
Not literally. In fact I apologise as this doesn't even come close to the oyster/fruit pastels of earlier posts!

Ok, so... About 9-10 months ago* I used to live with a couple in a nice newbuild house in Leicestershire. I'd been warned against moving in with a couple as there would probably be (and fucking were) huge rows and lots of awkward moments. Not to mention I was very single at the time and whilst they were two really nice people it was hard not to feel like, well the single one. Also, they were at it like fecking rabbits. Constantly! I work nights and had the joy of returning in the morning to their morning sex, I'd even wake up and start getting ready for work with the ambiance of them two shagging!!

Anyway, the most horrific moment of my time spent with them was one night when they were in the living room watching a movie and I'd gone upstairs to fall asleep to a dvd (I'd only just started nights and found this helps) and suddenly fancied some of this delicious cookie dough ice cream I'd bought.

So I creep downstairs, past the living room, into the kitchen and etc etc ego back upstairs, eat some ice cream and make my way downstairs to put it back in the freezer. Only when I reach the bottom of the stairs I hear the all to familiar squeeks (sadly not from the settee, from her. She makes these really loud, disturbing, high pitched squeeks) and occasional grunts of them copulating like the sweaty spidermonkeys on ecstasy they often were.

Now, do I tread by the living room hoping they don't see me and put the ice cream back in hope of them not hearing me? or do I be a coward and go back upstairs in hope they finish before the ice cream melts?

15 mins later and they're still at it.
I had to eat the whole tub.
It was horrible.

*Yes, they've just had a kid :) Oh, the joy as he updated me on how dialated she was!
(, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 4:34, Reply)
Colman's Mustard...
A few months ago, I was talking to my flatmate, sitting on her bed, having a girly chat as you do. I happened to glance down to the floor at the side of her bed and noticed some lube. Nothing wrong there, pretty standard for her actually. Then I noticed the Colman's English Mustard. I didn't ask for an explanation, I just didn't want to know. I haven't been able to eat mustard since.
(, Mon 10 Aug 2009, 23:57, Reply)
self-warming banana dicklick
i saw it by the till. it looked interesting. so i bought it.

later on that evening, the then bf was round for the night. he lay back, i poured the oil liberally all over my hands and leaned down to rub it all over him. he gasped and moaned. i bent down and began slowly and teasingly to lick it off. he gasped again. and moaned again. not quite so happily, though. then he wriggled.

"it's a bit... hot," he said. duh. it was self-warming oil. i pointed this out, and carried on. by this point he was writhing hard, and by this point, that was the only thing that was hard.

eventually he sat upright. "but it stings !" he said plaintively.

i told him that it was meant to be sexy and that he was ruining the mood. and he said, fine, you try it! he poured it liberally over his hands and pushed me back onto the duvet, smoothing it all over my thighs... not so bad... then higher up... and the rest.

about 30 seconds later i was in a very very cold shower. i've never moved so fast, not even in the mulberry sale. it was like having a million fire ants crawling all over my crotch. on fire.

banana dicklick? don't ever do it!
(, Mon 10 Aug 2009, 23:27, 6 replies)
A French prostitute...
Once laid a fresh, still warm boiled egg in my mouth. Ruddy gorgeous, it was. It didn't even need any extra salt.
(, Mon 10 Aug 2009, 23:22, 5 replies)
Becks
lager enema = bad idea.
(, Mon 10 Aug 2009, 22:46, 2 replies)
I can't get into the idea of food and sex together.
I just know that after ten minutes of playful pottering around with the contents of the fridge with my partner, I would be chowing down on the left over tuna pasta while he forlornly finishes himself off by the tumble dryer.
(, Mon 10 Aug 2009, 21:39, 6 replies)
Squirty cream
If you plan on using canned squirty cream on your girlfriend's tits, best make sure the can you just grabbed out of the fridge isn't two months out of date...

Short, but not so sweet.
(, Mon 10 Aug 2009, 21:16, Reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1