Ashley Lister - Just Desserts

His kisses had been a powerful stimulant but this was far more intense.

Trudy pushed herself against his mouth, eager to let him know how much she was enjoying their passion and determined to give him the same satisfaction that he was bestowing on her. She didn’t know where he had learned the technique to touch her so intimately but she was amazed by how swiftly he was able to take her to another rush of pleasure.

The inner muscles of her sex ached from excessive stimulation. Her sex and upper thighs felt sticky and sodden from the release of so many orgasms. And she knew there was still more to come.

‘My turn,’ she told him.

He arched a questioning eyebrow.

She pulled herself from beneath him and forced him to lie flat on the bed.

He did as she asked, grudgingly but without complaint.

She placed herself over him, kissing his face, then his chest and then moving her mouth down to his hardness. When she licked his length, another quiver of arousal bristled through her body. When she dared to take him in her mouth, and then stared up at him whilst her lips were being stretched by his girth, she could see he was sharing her heightened excitement.

Trudy kept him there for a moment, savouring the taste of him and lightly running her tongue over the rounded shape of his end. It was only when he slid his fingers into her hair, and curled one hand so that he was gripping her tight, that she pulled herself away from him. Her smile remained fixed and polite as she eased his fingers from their grip on her blonde locks. Even though she was shaking her head, she could see that he wasn’t offended by her resisting his control.

She straddled him easily.

He was hard, and moistened with her saliva, and slipped effortlessly into her sex. Her inner muscles were pushed forcefully apart as she took him deep into her wetness. Trudy had thought before that her excitement was reaching new levels of euphoria. And, whilst the sensation of his mouth against her sex had been good, this experience was far more satisfying.

She was on her knees and sitting over him, easing herself gently up and down with a slow, mechanical rhythm. She allowed as much of him as possible to slip from her confines, before firmly and deliberately pushing herself back down on him.

He rushed smoothly into her.

He stiffened on the bed and stared up in amazement.

‘That feels good.’

‘It’s about to feel better,’ she promised.

Without waiting for a response she shifted from sitting on him to squatting over him. Without the barrier of her thighs from the previous position she discovered she could get more of him inside. His shaft, already satisfying in length, was now pushing so deeply into her that she felt the prospect of another climax building in her loins.

When she pressed down hard against him her clitoris was teased by the harsh scrub of his pubic curls. Her arousal accelerated to another level. She held him there for an instant, thrilling to the fact that she could feel the pulse of his arousal so deep inside her sex. And then she was pulling herself away from him and gliding easily up his slippery length.

He murmured sweet words of affection.

She clenched her teeth and said nothing as she rode slowly and deliberately up and down. She had her hands on his chest to steady her balance. Accidentally, her nails clawed at his skin. She occasionally pulled chest hairs from their follicles but he didn’t complain and she didn’t care.

She knew, when the explosion of his climax came, it would likely be enough to send another thrill of release through her body.

Working more swiftly, battling against the strain of the muscles in her thighs, and congratulating herself for exercising so regularly so that her quads were able to cope with this level of exertion, she squeezed herself tight around him.

He groaned.

She sighed, grateful she had managed to force some response from him. And then she pushed herself firmly on to him and squeezed again.

Whatever effort of willpower he had been using to resist his climax was finally beaten. She could feel the slick hot jet of his orgasm throbbing inside her. He pulled her tightly into his embrace and kissed her mouth as his length continued to throb and shiver. Her own orgasm felt equally powerful. Although she’d been trying to keep her inner muscles squeezed tight around him, the exhilaration of the climax was so severe she lost control. Pleasure surged through her body and she collapsed against his kisses as their bodies bucked and shivered together in wet satisfaction.

Trudy didn’t know if she had passed out from the experience or had simply drifted into a state of euphoric bliss, but she was aware of awakening on his chest and being graced by his smile.

His dwindling length remained inside her.

She could feel the thump of their heartbeats pounding in unison. Smiling down at him she kissed him lightly on the mouth and said, ‘Thank you, Mr Hart.’

The studio lights were harsh on Nicola’s pastry. They were so bright they bleached the golden-brown colour from the blintz’s shell and made it appear pale and undercooked. When Carlos Fielding cut into a corner of the blintz, breaking easily through the layers of puff pastry and securing himself a mixture of steaming apples, seasoned with cheese and cinnamon, the dessert still looked too pale to be really appetising.

Fielding seemed untroubled.

He winked at Nicola as he raised the forkful to his mouth.

Nicola watched him with breathless expectation.

Fielding had the dessert in his mouth for less than ten seconds before he spat it out. He was shaking his head and holding his hand up, as though surrendering.

‘Cut!’ he cried. ‘For Christ’s sake, please. Cut.’

The director echoed Fielding’s cry, then, red with fury, stormed over and pointed a warning finger in Fielding’s face. ‘Stop being such a diva,’ he roared. ‘You’re not the one who tells my crew to cut.’

Fielding sneered at the director. ‘And you’re not the one with a mouthful of irradiated dog shit testing their gag reflex. So, unless you want live footage of me puking all over your Master Baker set, you’ll stop filming for a moment so I can get a drink and get this piss-awful taste out of my mouth.’

Surprised by the onslaught, the director stepped back.

Fielding paused and flashed a thin smile at the bewildered Nicola. ‘No offence,’ he added coolly. ‘I’m sure this would be a lovely delicacy in a prison or in some sort of zoo where they don’t like the animals.’

Nicola studied him with an expression of pained horror.

Fielding placed a hand over his mouth as though he was holding back involuntary reflux. He steadied himself and then asked, ‘What the hell did you put in that blintz? Did you really want the filling to taste partially digested?’

Nicola ran away sobbing.

The director was walking away from Fielding, signalling for the filming team to take five and telling the studio audience that they’d be resuming as soon as Carlos had recovered from his ‘ordeal’.

Trudy watched as Fielding waylaid one of the studio runners and demanded a bottle of water. Quietly she muttered a prayer, desperate for any gods listening to make sure she never ended up being as big a diva as he was. She wondered what it would be like to be so self-obsessed and care so little for the feelings of everyone else. It couldn’t be a pleasant way to live.

‘He looks more butch on TV,’ Daryl told Trudy.

Daryl was on the set in her capacity as Trudy’s PA. She wore a Michael van der Ham miniskirt, the pattern an abstract blend of blacks and silvers on silk jacquard. She handed Trudy a bottle of mineral water so she could get a drink before filming resumed.