Welcome to Masturbation Monday. Here's a sexy little teaser from Dessert my novella written entirely from the male point of view, perfect to read aloud to the man in your life to get him in the mood!
Back Cover Information
Nyotaimori was new for me, eating my dinner off a beautiful naked woman an experience I’d never been lucky enough to indulge in. So when a customer treated me to a meal at The Geisha Plate it was an effort to keep my cock under control and my focus on the food. Damn, it had been a while!
But control myself I did—until, that is, the spice levels cranked to boiling point and dessert turned out to be a mind-blowing, soul-twistingly delicious blowjob. I instantly craved more.
Plus I’m not a guy who likes debt. I had to return the favor by hook or by crook; it was an urge that threatened to consume me. Luckily my lovely Geisha girl turned out to be the sweetest woman I’d ever had the pleasure of pleasuring, and her healthy appetite for getting raw and naked with me for starters, main course and dessert turned out to be a wild ride for my every fantasy, and enough to keep me more than satisfied in every department.
Please note Dessert was previously published with different cover art.
I poured another shot of sake, rasped my hand over my stubbled chin and sighed. Fleetingly, thoughts of our business conversation popped into my mind but before I knew it my gaze was roaming the woman before me and I was appreciating the sight. Several grains of the rice I’d spilled were still on her flesh. There was also a seaweed-like strand of nori on her right thigh, curled in the shape of a question mark. And although the scent of cooking filled the air, I could almost believe the subtle scent of woman was also tickling my nostrils—petals, sugar and spice.
Suddenly she flicked her eyes open. I wouldn’t have noticed except that I was staring at her face when those long lashes fluttered upward.
My heart flipped in surprise and a bubble of both suppressed lust and shock popped in my belly.
She stared straight up at me with the darkest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes that held such richness and such depth I could have just jumped straight in and drowned a happy man.
She poked out the tip of her tongue, pointed and pink, and swept over the scarlet lipstick at the center of her mouth.
My dick responded to the action. It had settled slightly but was instantly heading back to full hardness. I tried to will it into submission but without success. That damn tip of her tongue was just too much for the dirty side of my imagination.
She moved her arms, dainty movements, but they seemed startling after such a prolonged period of stillness. She rose, her breasts shifting from their side-sloped position to a perfect palmful of softness with heavy undersides. Her nipples stayed jutting out, like ripe cherries topping cupcakes.
“Mr. Alan,” she said in a tinkling little voice. “Are you ready for dessert?”
“I-I, er, yes…yes.” Why was I stuttering? I never stuttered.
The pale corners of her mouth tipped and the reflection of the candles sparkled in her eyes. She slid to the very edge of the table and the flower covering her pussy lips fell to the floor as well as the few remaining grains of rice and the clinging piece of nori.
Instinctively, I reached for the flower, clasped the short stalk and handed it to her, at the same time wondering what she would use as modesty when she left the booth to order my dessert.
“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was almost singsong, music to my ears, a tickle to my cock.
I struggled to keep my attention on her face. For although I’d stared at her luscious body for over an hour, now that she was moving there were a whole load of other pretty curves and seductive shapes to appreciate and study. Sexual awareness simmered inside me and the effect of her proximity vibrated in my belly so hard I was sure she’d be able to feel it in the air.
“Please rest back,” she said, nodding to the solid wall that held the bell and the row of candles. I couldn’t have rested on the wall directly behind me, it appeared made of paper with a crisscross of dark wooden struts.
I twisted and shuffled backward, the stiff fullness of my dick hindering my movements.
“I hope you enjoy your dessert as much as you have enjoyed your main course,” she said, dropping to her knees in the small gap between table and my cushion-style chair.
Her shiny raven-black hair spread over her shoulders, several strands skimming the rise of her breast, the blunt ends twirling around her nipples.
“Well, yes, I am sure I will. The food here is lovely.”
I gulped as she placed her elegant hands on my knees. Her nails were long and painted pale pink. Her gaze stayed locked on mine.
What is she doing?
She smoothed her palms up my thighs. My skin was hypersensitive, I was so turned-on by her nakedness and the rubbing of the cotton on my leg. A new glut of lust shot to my cock. I glanced at the curtain, opened my mouth to speak.
“Shh,” she soothed, her eyelids drooping as though heavy with a lust that matched my own. “No one will come in.”
“Just enjoy your dessert, Mr. Alan. For you it is all part of the service at The Geisha Plate.”
Her gaze was so intense I could hardly breathe. And when the tips of her fingers brushed the bulge at my groin I did actually stop breathing. Held my breath tight as though I was about to jump into the ocean for a deep-sea dive.
She licked her lips, slowly, suggestively, smudging the red blob of lipstick at the center.
Is she going to do what I think she is?
My whole body was strumming with primal tension. My balls ached and boiled, my gut clenched. If I’d felt a little drunk before, now I was as sober as a rock. I was here in the moment, caught up in the spell she’d weaved around me.
“Relax,” she said, cupping my dick through my pants. “Relax and let me suck your penis into my mouth.”
Blowing out a breath, I balled my fists. Had I heard her right? Had she really just said she was going to suck my penis into her mouth? Maybe I wasn’t as sober as I thought and I was hearing things I wanted to hear. Because right now, the idea of her sucking my cock was the most beautiful thing I could imagine.
She tilted her head, her hair shifting on her shoulders like a river of silk. Her super-long lashes batted against her cheeks. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Alan?”
What man wouldn’t? This was a dream come true. A blowjob all part of the service.
“I, er, yes,” I managed in a raw, throaty voice. I glanced at the bell. The inappropriate touching rule came back to me. Fuck, she was stroking my shaft through my pants. I was sure that would class as inappropriate. Highly inappropriate.
The tiniest of giggles escaped her lips. “Oh, you are a worrier,” she said, rising up slightly and reaching for my zipper. “But I like that, it means you don’t take women for granted.”
“No. No definitely not. And as long as you are sure then…ah…ah…”
My dick surged as she reached into my clothing and pulled my shaft free. I stared down at her skillful stroking movements.
“Jesus, really?” I gasped.
Her hands were shockingly small and pale against my swollen, dark-with-arousal member. I couldn’t help a rush of male pride at the size of myself in comparison to her.
“You are a good man, Mr. Alan,” she said. “And now you can enjoy your dessert, but, sh…” She closed her fingers around my hard-on. “You must be quiet so as not to disturb other diners.”
She dipped her head and I saw the almost translucent whiteness of her scalp where her hair parted.
Oh fuck, keep quiet, John. Don’t make this end.