Food Porn

My husband holds out an unwrapped red Popsicle directly in front of my face. I look up at him from the dining chair. “Thanks.” Though it’s early in the afternoon, encroaching summer is already raising the temperature. He’s donning only periwinkle blue boxer briefs and mismatching socks, while his beard hides his chest like a furry crop top.

Walking through the doorway to the living room, he looks back over his shoulder and smiles. He exaggerates his walk, swinging his hips, before amply plopping down onto the couch. On his back with his legs outstretched and ankles crossed, he adjusts himself over his boxers with his free hand.

He stares directly at me as he licks the disk-shaped vanilla and salted caramel swirl ice cream bar from the stick to the top. Though his face remains serious, he pouts his lips for a slow air kiss. I look back at my phallic-shaped icy treat. Is he serious?

Twisting his wrist so the widest portion hides his smile, his eyes light up behind the frozen treat. He raises his eyebrows and sweetens his expression to pure innocence as if pleading with me to play this game. Rounding up the narrowest edge, the tip of his tongue encircles the delicious disk.

I rest the point of the cold, sugary ice on my bottom lip while forming a teasing ‘O’ shape. Our therapist recommended trying new things to improve our sex life. I commit to this game as I moisten the erect ice pop by slowly sliding it between my lips. The ice rubs across the roof of my mouth and easily slides down my throat. After nearly a decade of trying to swallow his massive cock, this Popsicle is going to be the simplest blowjob of our marriage.

With every pass of his tongue over or around the ice cream, I mentally transfer the presume sensation to my pussy. He vacillates over the top edge of the cold decadent, gliding back and forth over my clitoris. His mouth swoops down and glides back up, licking from my asshole, plunging into my pussy, and gently sucking on my clit.

He broadens his tongue for a flat sweep up the side as the frozen milk confection melts from the heat. My husband’s ability to coat my entire vagina with his fat tongue is one of my favorite sensations; feeling the warmth and moistness of his mouth covering my pussy sends shivers through my spine. I pull my super sexy sweats off and sit bare-ass on the stiff wooden chair. My oral consideration for my popsicle hasn’t progressed past simple in-and-out motions, but that is about to change.

With more ice cream in his beard than left on the stick, he shoots me one more over-the-top sensual look before returning to his typical boyish smile with an added shrug. Scooting forward toward the edge of the chair, I prop each of my heels onto the corner of my seat and spread my knees wide. Removing my waning ice pop from between my stain lips, I dangle it upside down and allow the red drops to trail down my thigh, biting my lower lip and glancing at him between drips.

The Popsicle is burning cold against my sensitive skin. I flinch then continue to rub the frozen treat against my other two lips. I’m scared to put it in. Curious, but terrified.

He walks over and drops to his knees in front of me. His mouth is cooler than usual and I can feel the stickiness of the residual ice cream in his beard rubbing against my inner thighs. Each of his fingertips press into my hamstrings as if trying to resist squeezing them. His fat tongue plunges into my pussy and then flexes, pushing against my walls.

That ice cream melted from his oral skills, not the heat. Replicating, he licks up and down, encircles, and flicks. He looks up at me, takes my hand, and pushes the mostly Popsicle stick back in my mouth. His wet beard tickles as it grazes.

His hands slide around my quads and he clutches, wavering his tongue just the way I like. His nose purposely presses into my clit as his tongue stiffens inside me, prepping for his signature move. Like patting his head while rubbing his stomach, my husband bumps his face against my clitoris while rapidly oscillating his tongue in and out. I married him for a reason.

I shove the ice pop into my mouth until the cold stick hits the back of my throat and then bite down on the tip of the stick. He doesn’t stop until he is licking up my cum. He looks up at me. With the smallest amount of stick peaking out from between my lips, I mouth, “Your turn.”

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