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Hand-Dipped Pleasure

an erotic comedy

Hand-Dipped Pleasure By Leannan Mac Llyr

Tasha has always had a crush on Dale, the young stud muffin who owns the confectionery. The morning of the Strawberry Festival she comes to deliver strawberries for his specialty, Hand-Dipped Chocolate Strawberries. Only Dale hasn't even gotten his naked self out of bed yet. All thoughts of business fly out of her mind as Dale not only claims her, but teaches her the game of dominance. With some whipped cream and chocolate Dale shows her how sweet bondage can be and that their age difference means nothing to him.


Tasha could barely breathe. Such a fine specimen and here he lay within reach. Her hand reached out and ever so lightly stroked Dale’s hair. It was as soft and full as she had thought it would be. He didn’t even stir at the touch. Tasha drew back her hand and sniffed her fingertips. His shampoo and personal scent clung to her and she smiled. There was no way she could ever have him for her own. Their age difference alone made that obvious, but still.

Once more she reached out. Lightly she rested her fingertips on the cap of his shoulder. Just to wake him, she told herself. Warm and firm to the touch Dale felt so real to her right then. Not that he’d not been real before of course, but he always seemed somehow more image and attitude than flesh and blood.

Such a nice body wasted on such a childish jerk. She stroked down his back, all the way to his fine, tight ass. “And you are an ass, aren’t you?” she whispered. And then she did something she never in a million years would have thought herself capable of doing. She whacked his ass. Hard.

Dale flipped over suddenly. In mid-turn his arm flew out and he snatched Tasha by the wrist. With a squeak of surprise she flipped off her feet and landed right on Dale’s chest. He didn’t stop rolling even then. Not until he was on his side facing her as she lay on the far side of the bed from where she began. Her body pressed to his. Thighs. Tummies. Breasts to chest. His right arm beneath her and embracing her tightly. His other hand still gripping her wrist. Faces inches apart.

Mmmmm,” Dale mumbled. “I’m the only one who does the spanking around here.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll remember that,” Tasha stammered, acutely aware of every inch of contact between them. She’d meant her comment to sound pithy or sarcastic, but it had come out with a tremble. One that traveled the full length of her spine and cascaded out to the rest of her body.

“You do that,” Dale told her, his voice deep and sexy and not in the least bit miffed. Finally his eyes opened. The rich, dark chocolate brown melted her resolve like caramel in a double boiler. The little grin teasing the corners of his mouth turned her resistance to jelly. And not even the semi-firm jelly of a jelly bean, but the ooey-gooey jelly of a plump jelly donut that would blob out the other end when you bit into it. Even if she wanted to get away she couldn’t have convinced her throbbing libido of that. Dale continued, “There is another rule to this room. No one is allowed to be dressed here without my express permission.”

Tasha raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really?” Again, not sarcastic as she’d aimed for. Instead it came out all breathless and “take me now, big daddy”.

“Yes. Really. And do you know what?” His gaze slid over her face and settled on her lips until she thought for sure he was going to plant a kiss on her.

“Uh… What?” Her head tilted, inviting the kiss. Wanting it.

“You don’t have permission.”

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