Jen called me at work and when I answered, said, rather matter-of-factly, “I’m making brownies” then hung up.
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. Was it wrong that the thought of brownies made me wet? That imagining the smell in our kitchen right now made my nipples firm up a little? Was it a bad thing that instinctively my hand moved between my legs as I thought about Jen melting chocolate over the stove in a double boiler? Maybe it wasn’t wrong or bad but it sure said a lot about me. Walking by a bakery in the morning could actually make my clit throb. One time I was meeting Jen for dinner at an Italian restaurant and it smelled so good that I came in the foyer waiting to be seated at a table. In my world food was sex capped with a mind-numbing, toe-curling, earth-shaking orgasm. Teasing me with food . . . well, that was just foreplay. Jen knew that. And I knew two things for sure- I was leaving work early, and Jen was getting her brains fucked out when I got home.
There was no point trying to get any work done. I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was Jen in the kitchen making brownies. The sad part was, I wasn’t really thinking about how sexy she looked. And I’m sure she did. I’m sure she was wearing a tanktop and loose-fitting men’s pajama bottoms like she always did when she planned on being a bum all day. And her long, reddish-brown hair was probably pulled back in a ponytail and tied with a scrunchie. Her feet were no doubt bare. But I didn’t focus on that. Instead I imagined her gathering the ingredients she needed from the cupboard, the fridge. Jen baked from scratch, always. Nothing from a box for her. I could almost feel the warmth of the kitchen as the oven preheated. But that warmth was in my cheeks . . . and between my legs. That’s when I sheepishly realized I had been caressing my breast while I thought about all this.
I needed to go home. Now.
My usual commute was about thirty minutes on a good traffic day. But it seemed to be taking forever now. I glowered at other drivers who dared get in my way and tapped my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel at every red light I was forced to sit through. Did the world not know there were brownies at home waiting for me? I could actually see the pan of brownies cooling on the counter. Would Jen frost them? Oh god. My clit tingled at the thought of Jen whipping up a batch of her chocolate butter cream frosting. I imagined her spooning dollops of frosting into the pan of brownies and spreading it around with a spatula. She wasn’t stingy when it came to frosting. It would be thick and sinful and I nearly ran a stop sign thinking about it. I fidgeted anxiously in my seat waiting for the cross traffic to go by, looking for a little relief from the itch between my legs, resisting the urge to shove my hand down the front of my pants and finger myself the rest of the way home.
When I finally pulled into our driveway, my clit was on fire and my panties were absolutely soaked. I could feel the warm stickiness between my thighs as I got out of the car and headed into the house. It didn’t seem possible, but my pussy got even wetter once I was inside. The house smelled incredible. The sweet aroma of freshly baked brownies filled the air and I breathed in deep, savoring it, letting it fill me, crash over me, my clit twitching wildly. Instinctively I headed for the kitchen, where the delicious smell was even stronger. The oven was turned off but still warm, so Jen must have only just taken the brownies out of the oven. But the baking dish I expected to see cooling on the counter was nowhere to been found.
I walked down the hall to the bedroom. Jen was sprawled across our bed, looking delectable in the tanktop and pajama bottoms I suspected she had been wearing. Her hand was between her legs, stroking absently through her pajama bottoms. The smile on her face was pure mischief.
“I expected you home sooner,” Jen said.
I said, “I couldn’t get home soon enough.”
Jen nodded at the dresser.
I followed her gaze. There on top of the dresser, resting on a folded towel, was the pan of brownies I had been thinking about –no, fantasizing about- since Jen called me at work. She hadn’t frosted them. No . . . she had done better than that and my pussy throbbed with hunger.
“Turtle brownies,” Jen said. “I tossed some chocolate and caramel pieces and some pecans on top just before I took them out of the oven so they’d melt and be all warm and gooey. Just like your pussy is right now. Isn’t it, baby?”
I nodded. It was all I could do. I couldn’t have managed an actual word as an answer if my life depended on it. Our bedroom never smelled so good, not even after a night of hot, wild sex when the scent of sweat and pussy was so thick you could feel it on your skin. I was so turned on my legs were quivering. That I managed to keep upright was a small miracle. Jen laughed at me.
“You really want one bad, don’t you?”
I nodded again.
Jen grinned. “You can have one. But no dessert for you until you eat your dinner. And baby? I’m dinner.”
I didn’t bother to get undressed, just kicked off my shoes and slid into bed next to Jen. She pulled me to her and kissed me, long and deep, her hands moving over my body with the sureness of someone who knew what she wanted and knew just where to touch me. I moaned against her lips, my hand moving between her legs to cup her mound. When I squeezed her pussy Jen groaned softly, arching against me, humping my hand, looking for the same relief I had been looking for in the car. I ground the heel of my palm into her pussy, feeling her wetness through her pajama bottoms. Her cunt was just as wet as mine, just as needy . . . just as desperate. I could smell her desire . . . the familiar scent of her cunt . . . mixing with the scent of brownies that already filled the room. Jen tangled her fingers in my hair and pulled my mouth from hers so she could look at me.
“I want you to lick my pussy like you kiss me.”
The want in her voice made me shudder. I scooted lower on the bed and quickly helped Jen out of her pajama bottoms, tossing them over my shoulder as I slid under her thighs and got my face between her legs. I kissed along her inner thigh, nipping her skin a little as I moved closer to her cunt. She moaned and thrust her pussy up at me, shoving her wetness in my face. I dragged my tongue up her slit, giving her firm nub of a clit a quick tease that made Jen squirm under me. Her fingers raked through my hair and she pushed me down on her, grinding my face into her cunt. I slipped my tongue between her pussylips, desperately licking her as she moved her hips, fucking my face to a manic, frantic rhythm.
“Make me come,” Jen growled. “Make me fucking come.”
I spread her lips with my fingers to get at her clit, flicking the hard little nub with the tip of my tongue, lashing it. Jen bucked her hips wildly, her grip in my hair tightening as she thrashed and whimpered on the bed. Then I took her clit between my lips and sucked on it and Jen cried out, thrusting up at me and grinding her pussy against my face as she came. I kept licking her, circling her clit with my tongue, refusing to let up. Jen came again, grunting with that deep pained-pleasure straight from the gut I knew all too well from having her mouth on me. She pulled my mouth off her.
“No more,” Jen muttered breathlessly. “My clit can’t take it.”
In answer to that I gave her now hyper-sensitive clit another lick and laughed when her entire body jerked like she’d gotten an electric jolt. She giggled and pushed me off her with her foot.
“Bitch,” she said.
I laughed and rolled onto my side, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “Can I have dessert now?”
She lifted her eyebrows as if expecting more.
“Please?” I added.
Jen smiled. “That’s my good girl.”
I watched Jen get out of bed, admiring the sway of her bare ass as she padded over to the dresser, noticing, with a sharp flare of desire, the glistening juices that covered her thighs. Jen grabbed the knife next to the pan of brownies and I watched her cut them into squares, my insides quivering with anticipation. She looked at me.
“Do you want one?”
“Then come here,” Jen said.
I got out of bed and went to her. She held up a hand to stop me.
“On your knees.
Nodding, I got down on my knees in front of her, the pussy I’d just been licking in my face again. Jen used the knife to pry a brownie out of the pan then held the brownie in the palm of her hand. She looked down at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Please,” I whispered.
Jen smiled. “Rub your clit.”
Again I did as she asked. I slid my hand down the front of my pants, down the front of my thoroughly soaked panties, and started rubbing my clit. Jen broke off a piece of brownie and, holding it with two fingers, brought it to my lips then slowly, delicately, put it in my mouth. The brownie had a little crust around the edges but was soft and moist and warm inside. The pieces of chocolate and caramel were smooth and creamy, and the pecans added a little salty crunch to everything. I came. At the first taste. On my knees, fully clothed, my hand down the front of my pants, I fucking came. Jen laughed at me.
As Jen broke off another piece my clit pulsed excitedly and had no doubt at all that it was going to be a long, delicious afternoon.