hot chocolate - guest post from F. Leonora Solomon

wildly excited to hand over the reins to F.Leonora Solomon this week, for a sexy French tease… Ivy x

Hot Chocolate

Sipping the hot chocolate was like a kiss, Adrienne closed her eyes as the chocolate flowed over her tongue. It was sweet, but she savored it like a savory food. Her eyes moved around the elaborate French cafe, as she saw all types of people fill it.

Her friend had told her that she had to have the chocolate there while she was in Paris, but she had not been prepared for what she was served. This was more than hot chocolate—it was a rendezvous. A moment in time suspended from the rest of her life. She felt suspended from the rest of her life anyway because she was not fluent in French, and she did not understand a lot of what was being said around her.

“Excuse me…”

The English words jarred her, before she looked up and saw a tall slender man in a suit walk by her. His suit pants had grazed her arm—and not his fault—she spilled her chocolate.

The man was on his knees in front of her when she looked down at her dress. There was a splash of chocolate something like a Rorschach, but most of the chocolate was on the floor. A rush of employees walked over to her, and reassured her in French. She was taken to a new table, and napkins and spoons were placed before her.

Seated across from her was the man who had caused all of the trouble. Adrienne could still feel his suit on her bare arm, when he now touched with his hand.

“I am sorry,’ he said. “I did not mean to make you spill your chocolate…”
Adrienne shrugged, and shook her head.

“No, it was me. I am normally clumsy…”

He looked at her with a smile.

“Your chocolate’s on me,” he said, as another hot chocolate was placed before her. “I did not even ask if you spoke English before I came over here apologizing.”

“Non,” she started in French, and then smiled happy to speak English with someone. “I do, and you do not have to pay for my chocolate…”

“I insist, besides…I would like to speak to someone in English for a bit…do you mind humoring an American?”

“No.”

Adrienne smiled, and sipped her hot chocolate. Feeling like she was kissing the chocolate again, now she wondered what this man’s lips would feel like against hers instead. She did not know his name yet.

He stared at her lips, which she licked. He looked at her breaking the rules, for how long he should look into her eyes.

Her temples dampened as she continued to drink the hot chocolate, and to drink in her new companion’s appearance. He continued to study her lips, as she licked them. Studied them as she licked the homemade whipped cream with the tip of her tongue, before added it liberally to top her chocolate.

This time, when she spilled the hot chocolate, it was not an accident. Again he was at her knees, when she looked at the new chocolate Rorschach on her dress it looked like desire as his fingers grazed her dress and the edge of her knee.

“Excuse me, I am so clumsy…” she said, and got up, asking in French where was the bathroom.

The tiny jewel box bathroom was decadent, it looked at elegant as the china her chocolate was served in. Adrienne did not have to go to the bathroom, but she braced the sink as she tried to regain her composure. She saw dried chocolate on the edge of her lip. All the flirty licking she had done, and she still missed a spot of actual chocolate.

Looking at her face once more, she opened the bathroom door, and he was there. Her temples moistened again, as he leaned in. Adrienne pulled at his tie to rein him in.

He kissed her.

He licked the spot where she had licked the chocolate off of her mouth, and the tip of her tongue. His lips rested on her top lip.

“You taste like chocolate…” he whispered.

It was the first time an American accent made her wet.

drum roll please...

ooo, a brand new tease from an exciting guest blogger, tomorrow...

don't turn around

Kitty leaned back against the wall, away from the crowd. The guy was on his knees now, his eyes wide with anticipation, his chest pumping up and down, the excitement plain all over him. John walked over the small stage and with each step, he slid his hand up and down his cock, readying himself.
Kitty took a sharp breath in as the burst of heat rushed through her. She could almost feel the glistening tip of John's cock as he slid it between the man's lips - she could almost taste the juices -
"Don't turn around," said a voice behind her.
She raised one eyebrow, not recognising the new man's voice, but she knew the rules of the club. She held out her wrist, showing him the tag John had tied there.
The man chuckled. Reaching around her, he held out a long pink ribbon. Her ribbon.
The guy on the stage leaned into John, taking him deep into the back of his throat. Kitty heard herself moan as John leant into the man's mouth, thrusting, gripping his head. Someone in the room called out but Kitty didn't hear what they said. To her left, a couple were already hard at it, the moment too much to resist, but even with the ribbon there in front of her, Kitty couldn't take her eyes off John.
Suddenly, he looked up, peering over the crowd. Scanning the faces below him, he stopped on hers. She smiled, and as she met his eyes, she let her tongue trace her lips. He pulled back from the man on his cock, just enough to let him know he wasn't going to come yet. The man turned his head, taking John's balls into his mouth, closing his eyes, but John never looked away from Kitty. He raised his chin and gestured very slightly with his head, and Kitty felt the familiar tug of the pink ribbon about her wrist. Her cheeks flushed and she looked up through her lashes, but she didn't turn away. She let herself be guided forward two paces and the man stepped in behind her. He ran his hands over her body, over her hips, then under her short skirt. As John watched, Kitty felt the man's fingers rise up the inside of her legs, probing, touching. She let out a cry, but she couldn't hide how wet she was, how much she needed to come.
John guided the man's mouth back to his cock and without taking his eye's from Kitty's, he started to fuck the man's mouth, hard. Kitty felt her own lips bruise as she watched. She felt the rise in her belly, felt the burn, the wonderful heat in the very depths of her womb, but the fingers on her cunt were not enough.
Finally looking up to the low wooden ceiling, John filled the man's mouth. With each thrust, Kitty could taste his cum on her tongue, but even as she squirmed, even as the fingers found her clit, it wasn't enough. She pushed back, needing more, and the man behind her chuckled.
"This way," he said, taking her hand. "Close your eyes."
With one final look up at the stage to where the man was cleaning John with his tongue, lapping him up, Kitty closed her eyes and let herself be led away.

let the music play…

She leant back, resting her head in his lap. He ran his fingers through her hair. It was late, but the bar was still busy and the band was on form. Couples danced to the deep throaty jazz, New Orleans alive and well in the dingy London club.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to his, expecting him to be watching the musicians, but his eyes burned into her hers with a force that woke up the fire in her soul.

She raised one eyebrow, their signal, and his hand moved softly around her jaw, to her shoulder. No one was looking, but even if they were -

The corner of her lip twitched, and she nodded, just once. She wriggled until she was practically sitting up, but still nestled into his body, and as she moved, she hitched up her skirts, just enough. 

He was ready.

Sliding his fingers under her full skirt, he moved his hand up her leg. She shivered, feeling the flush rise in her face. A shout came from the dance floor – one of their friends. She raised her hand to wave and as she did, he slid his hand up higher, right to the top of her thighs.

She breathed in sharply, but if the friend noticed what they were doing, she said nothing, smiled, and turned away in her dance.

The lights flickered over the moving couples but as as he worked his fingers under her lace panties, she felt her eyes drifting, unfocussed. The heat, the music, the sheer, wonderful buzz of the little place, all spun around her as he found her clit.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder.

He looked out, over the crowd. She was wet – soaking, burning, wonderfully wet. He pushed two fingers inside her and she moved to take him in. A waiter came by the next table, picking up the discarded glasses, but she didn’t even open her eyes.

The waiter looked over and caught the man's eye, but he didn’t stop. Her face flushed again, her mouth opening, her closed eyelids fluttering as she tightened around his fingers. The waiter went to speak to them, to say something, but then she let out a low moan and arched her back, lost in the ripples of pleasure.

When she opened her eyes, the waiter was standing over them, their fire burning in his eyes.

something a little different, for me, this weekend

for this sunday's tease, let the piano play...

binding him tight

 The lights were low, but he could see the figures moving around in the shadows. He strained, pulling at the ropes around his wrists. From nowhere, a hand slid around the wooden post and covered his eyes and he felt the hot burn of more rope as it wound around his thighs, binding him to the post. A cloud of perfume surrounded him, a sweet mix of cinnamon and flowers. His nostrils flared and he turned his head, but the hand stayed over his eyes, shutting out his sight.

There were more of them than she’d said. Three, maybe four – he could hear their breathing. He could almost taste the sweet musky scent from their bodies, even over her perfume.

Rock hard, his cock jolted, but no one touched him. He heard them moving together, skin on skin – kisses, sighs. His mouth opened and he let out a moan, but her only reply was the sharp twist of a pointed fingernail on his nipple.

Again, the perfume swam around him, until his head could no longer place where they were, what they were doing – and finally, warm, wet lips closed around his cock.

turning the tables, tomorrow...

mountain play

The tree stood tall, right in the middle of the clearing. It was early yet, they had the mountain to themselves.

“Give me your hands,” he said.

She looked up, through her lashes. Her whole body was shaking, but a fire burned in her core. The air was warm, the sun strong, even for summer, but –

“Trust me,” he said.

She’d always presumed the metal D ring was set in the tree for a horse. Silly, really, she told herself. After all, he was the only one she’d ever seen riding on the local trails.

She thought back to that day, when he’d found her, reading by the river.

Slowly, she took one step and then another. The breeze danced over her skin, but it wasn’t the breeze that made her nipples stand out, and it wasn’t the sunlight that burned inside her.

Now she saw it, there were too other rings set in the huge tree, both around the same height as her ankles, but set wide apart.

“We can go home,” he said, gently.

She looked up, into his eyes, and smiled as she gave him her wrists.