© Feb 2003

Write a story about chocolate he said - 'Gee thanks Ray!' I looked at the email he'd written and thought again to myself 'Jeez - I don't do chocolate - how the blazes do I write a story about it? Hell! I know we writers are supposed to have dirty minds and all that jazz but chocolate - c'mon fella!' And I put it to the back of my mind.

Except it wouldn't go away.

I kept thinking back to 'The Experiment'.

That was chocolate.

That was sex.

Boy was that sex - oh yes and it was hot.

That's one of the problems about chocolate - as if you need me to tell you - it gets hot, it melts - oh and it gets messy - very, very messy.

What was that quote of Woody Allen's - 'if it ain't messy you ain't doin' it right.'

Yeah or some such thing - whatever!

Let me tell you about it.

Sam had read about it somewhere, some stupid article in a women's magazine. I'll give Sam that, she was adventurous. For some reason that became clearer as the evening went on, the magazine article wasn't frightfully clear as to the details. It did, however, suggest that the enjoyment could be prolonged if the 'Mars' bar was placed in the fridge for a little while before hand. So we did. At this point for those who don't know about this article of confectionery its base is caramel, with a layer of nougat on top, the whole then being encased in a thick, hardened layer of chocolate.

No detailed description, so we extemporised. Having placed said article of chocolate in the fridge we got mildly hot and heavy - for that - read we screwed each other silly! Then we remembered the Mars chocolate bar. I held it in its wrapper and asked, what in hindsight was a stupid question, - "So what do I do with this... ?"

Having peeled off the wrapping paper I inserted the already melting but still cold bar - for those of you who really don't know, they're about one inch square by about four long - into her ever so hot and already juicy cunt.

It slid it in very easily and it vanished - to be followed by an exclamation of "Oh, shit! That's cold, take it out!"

Like I say I couldn't - it had gone - swallowed whole!

So I did what any red-blooded male would do in the circumstances - I got down closer to have a look.

I saw Coral pink tinged with the colour of chocolate - so I had a taste.

Chocolate covered anchovies sprung to mind - now call me perverse, but having never tasted chocolate covered anchovies before I discovered I quite liked this flavour and, holding her thighs well up out of the way, I stuck in my tongue and went to work to explore the situation further.

"Jesus, Sven that's fucking cold, get it OUT!" was the request, but I couldn't - it really had gone right inside Sam's cunt.

I think she began to orgasm at that point. Whatever! The contractions began to squeeze some of the now not quite so cold fudge out.

I ate it.

The flavour was different, but really not unpleasant.

She excreted more - I ate that as well - by this time it was melting and the mess was quickly becoming quite fascinating, redolent of junior school and mud pies.

A vaginal fart followed - this caused a splattering effect over my face and in my eyes - somehow I didn't care and Sam was now in the throes of the biggest orgasm for months.

Totally beyond caring she dragged me out by the ears, kissed me and screamed that she wanted to be "Fucked -- you bastard..." - so I did. I didn't so much slide in as push home with a definite squelch. We then fucked like mink, the goo squishing every which way.

I have to say in retrospect it did feel different - a tad lumpy in places but definitely different. With the height of the moment I added my own cream to the now very sticky and frothy sauce we had produced. As I shrivelled and slipped out of her she went down on me to 'taste the result' - squirming round so I could sample and clean her at the same time.

I have to say that chocolate flavoured bleach is not high on my list of 'must have' confectionery flavours then or now but she seemed to enjoy it and we did clean each other up. Really we shouldn't have bothered trying, the stains never came out of the white sheets and in the end I seem to remember we threw them away after the third attempted wash.

Was the 'experiment' worth it? Well let's just say it was different and leave it at that.

Was there any lasting benefit? Other than I ended up shaving her because we couldn't seem to get the toffee out of her pubic hairs, even after we'd showered, not really.

Would we do it again? Hmmm! Did I ever tell you about the time I drizzled melted chocolate over her tits and then...

Happy Birthday, Gary!

Sven

(Still chuckling over the thirty-plus year old memory... )