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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)
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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)
no you didn't...

(, Fri 7 Aug 2009, 10:56, closed)
Didn't what?
I'm confused.
(, Fri 7 Aug 2009, 19:25, closed)

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