Chocolate Knights and Chocolate Daze

by Gary Jordan

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Light Bond, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: What happened *after* the costume party? He was too drunk to recall, but Ghiradeli would make her talk. (The sixth of the Chocolate Morsels.)

Partially edited by Alexis Siefert
Copyright © 2002, 2003

The "Knights" portion of this story was originally submitted as an entry to the Virago Blue Challenge as a flash story (under 1000 words). It contained no sex, but maintained continuity with the rest of the "Chocolate Morsels Universe." A follow-up was always intended.

"Daze" is that follow-up. I wasn't happy with it. I decided to submit it to a jury of my peers, in the best forum for improvement in the community: The Fish Tank. I think that was a very good decision. No story which entered the tank failed to be improved, and following The Fish Tank, whether it was my story or another author's has helped all of my writing. These amazing people helped:

  • Uther Pendragon, Katie McN, cmsix, John,

  • Alexis Siefert, Desdmona, Tesseract, and Denny

What follows is the post-immersion version of the combined stories, so you can see and judge the progress.

Chocolate Knights

Jeanine said, "'Somebody needs to go to the store'?"

The code words, repeated back but made into a question by raised eyebrow, cocked head and hand on hip, made me feel foolish. I still nodded to confirm that she'd heard correctly. After all, why should she be the only one who ever initiated our games? We both enjoyed the play. I mean, really! Light bondage was originally my idea, so why shouldn't I be the one to request it?

Jeanine looked as though she were considering it. Since the day she lost a wager and agreed to my repeated request to at least try it, she had always been the one to call for the ropes and cuffs. I had no complaints - a coin toss decided who was wearing the restraints - but it had been a while.

Okay, okay. Morning sickness does tend to throw a monkey wrench into games that restrict movement, and dampen the mood besides. But it had been weeks - at least one, anyway - since she had experienced her unpredictable bouts of nausea. And we had hours before the costume party.

She smiled that starburst smile and I knew I wasn't wrong.

But I wasn't necessarily right, either. "After the party, if you're still up to it," she said.

Even better. I had a little scenario in mind that would be in keeping with the party theme, which (if I haven't mentioned it) was "Knights in Armor." It didn't matter who won the toss, my fantasy would work either way.

Of course, I hadn't seen the costumes yet. Jeanine had worked on them in secrecy rivalling the Forbin Project. I didn't have any idea if I would be dressed as a knight or a "faire damselle," or maybe as Jeanine's squire. I was sure I could make any of these work in the fantasy.

I did not take into account how much my "scents" of humor had corrupted my lovely mate.

After a light meal, it was time to dress for the party. I did the dishes while Jeanine laid out the costumes and put hers on. Then it was my turn. Walking down the hallway to the bedroom, I felt a growing sense of anticipation. I'd get to see these "award winning" costumes (Jeanine assured me) for the first time, and see Jeanine in hers. Would she be an armored knight? A damsel in distress? The queen who bestows her favors on the knight?

I nearly stopped laughing when she kicked me lightly where I lay helpless on the floor. But wiping the tears from my eyes just allowed me to see her in her regalia again, and started another round.

She allowed me to calm myself, grinning the while. Her efforts had had the desired effect and she was justifiably proud of the results. "You like?" she asked.

I worked back to my knees and bowed forehead to floor, arms extended towards her. "I am not worthy, O Mistress!" I fawned and scraped before her superior display of punsmanship.

She bade me rise, and I got the full appreciation of her pun. How to describe our costumes...

The theme was Knights in Armor. Jeanine stood modeling what appeared to be a can of Chili with a well-known lable. Adorning the label was a yellow band ending in a trade-marked star. (Can you picture it? We were going as Knights in Armour.) The only difference I noted was that hers said, "Chili without Beans" and mine was "with Beans". A pair of four-foot can openers completed the costume.

I had to kiss her before I got dressed - we'd have a hard time getting that close, once I was in my can.

We won "Most Original Costume" and the prize was, appropriately enough, an electric can opener. Sometimes the Almighty has a strange sense of humor, too. Jeanine drove home - despite the best (or worst) of intentions for the remainder of that evening, I'm afraid I drank a bit too much.

Someday I'll get her to tell me what happened when we got home. I woke up the next afternoon pleasantly sore, and with plenty of dried evidence that somebody's fantasies were explored, but every time I ask, she get's a silly grin and clams up. Snickers and Mars Bars haven't worked as bribes, either.

I'm going to have to pull out the big guns. Ghiradeli will make her talk.

Chocolate Daze

"Out! Out of my kitchen until I'm done!" he said.

"I just want to sample the product for quality assurance purposes." I used my most reasonable tone, despite the fact that I wanted to slip by him in the worst way.

"You just want to sample until the cookie sheet is empty. Go sit in the living room. I'll bring you one fresh from the oven. Out!"

I stuck out my tongue. He did the same. Since our tongues were conveniently both out, they approached one another, and began to wrestle. Being nobody's fool, he placed his body between me and the cookies, and I found myself being wrestled out of the kitchen.

After a brief tussle in the doorway to the kitchen, I finally gave up, or so I let him think. I realized he was serious, and he just might let the next sheet burn rather than let me get to them first. I gave him my prettiest pout, tossed my hair and spun on my heel to stalk to the living room.

He got this recipe from a newsgroup, so he said. He told me he modified it to suit my preferences. I knew what that meant. He yelled from the kitchen that the directions said the cookies should be left for a day to bring out the flavors fully. Maybe some would make it to the next day - no way would I allow him to cache them all, not after filling the house with their smell.

I heard him take the last of the cookies from the oven. He came into the living room with just three on a plate, and a glass of milk. He knows that when it comes to fresh cookies, I'm from from the scorched tongue school.

Today was no exception. How someone can wince, grin, make "mmmmm" noises, and inhale cool air all at once is beyond me. I did, though, and followed the first burning bite with a swallow of milk. The next bite was dunked first, but the density of these cookies didn't allow for much milk absorption; My face must have repeated the odd pain/pleasure pairings.

"So," he began, as I started the second cookie, "about the night of the party..."

I laughed. "You think you can bribe me?" I broke off to moan in pleasure. Damn these cookies were good! "You think I can be bribed with a teensy plate of cookies?"

He nodded. "There's more where those came from, but, I won't make anymore until I know what happened."

I laughed, but it came out with that snort I hate. Damn, he'd know he had me. "Fine. I'll tell all, but it's more than a three-cookie story, so you'd better refill my milk and bring in a platter."

In seconds he had zipped to the kitchen, slid a couple dozen cookies onto a plate, and filled a large glass with milk. I couldn't help it. That swiftness in complying had me giggling. He settled in to hear the story.

"What's the last thing you remember?" I asked.

"I came back from putting our prize for 'Most Original Costume' in the trunk." It was an electric can opener. "Bill handed me another drink, and we got into a discussion of something important and I had a couple more." It was probably about women. "I wandered over to where you and the girls were gossiping in time to hear someone say you needed to go shopping. After that, it's pretty much a blur."

"That was Glenda. She was pointing out that not much of my wardrobe will fit much longer. I'll need maternity clothes." I grimaced. I might be a traitor to my gender, but I hate shopping. Not the shopping itself, it's the crowds. I have a fair number of suitable office outfits, all purchased at smaller shops away from the malls. Maybe Glenda and I could spend a day searching for maternity shops the same way.

"Anyway, I could see that you'd reached that silent grinning stage in your drinking, and I figured it was time to get you home."

I guess I got a far-away look in my eyes. He settled in to listen.

"I confess I felt a wave of affection for you at that point." He'd stood there with a nearly empty drink, gazing at me with such adoration. He isn't like Kelly's husband, who gets loud and obnoxious, or Patty's ex-boyfriend, who starts hitting on other women. When he gets tipsy, when the barriers go down, he lets me know quietly the depth of his love. As rarely as the drinking happens, how could I be angry? I looked at him now and he smiled. He could only blush. I continued.

"I made both our good-byes and steered you out to the car." I laughed the whole way at my friends' remarks. They teased about the obvious possessiveness and affection being displayed. I'd done most of the blushing, then.

"Getting into the car was a problem. The costumes were really designed for help in getting into or out of, and while I could help you, you were in no condition to help me." Just walking the block to where we'd parked while supporting an amorous husband was an adventure.

"I managed to remove the plastic hoops that gave your costume its can shape. You looked like a crumpled can of Armour Chili with Beans, gazing at me from the front seat. I couldn't resist kissing your nose.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't reach the slits where my own hoops could be extracted. With the hoops in place, I couldn't easily reach the zipper on the bottom surface of the "can" that would at least give me some flexibility in the costume. Remember? All during the party, we had to stand or perch on the arm of a chair or sofa." He nodded, I think, but I wasn't really looking.

"It took me a minute to adjust the driver's seat and tilt steering wheel to allow me to even sit in the car. The hoops wouldn't let me sit back, and the strain on the material was giving me a double wedgie." I'd thought about returning to the party for some help, but I didn't want to leave him, and didn't want to make that trip twice.

"By the end of the thirty-minute drive, I was feeling... anxious." I was as randy as I can ever remember. "The stress of sitting awkwardly, driving with my arms held out to the side to reduce chaffing, and that ever-present pressure in my crotch was driving me to distraction." I could hardly wait to get inside and out of the damned costume. I decided to remove it with scissors, if I couldn't get him to help.

"I shook your shoulder, and you slowly returned to that dreamy state of adoration. You reached for me, and I pulled your arms to guide you from the car to the house.

"Once we were inside, I left a trail of turned-on lights guiding you to the bedroom. I figured I could go back and get them, once I'd gotten rid of the costume. I certainly didn't expect to leave them on all night. But then, I didn't expect you to -" I broke off, looking at him with a crooked smile.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" His expression was so delightful. It was equal parts apprehension and curiosity, with a dash of little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I should have known better than to ask your help with a zipper while you were in that condition," I said. I let a sigh slip out.

"Couldn't I manage the zipper?" he asked in a small, anxious tone.

I laughed. Despite myself, I laughed that laugh, the one he claims reminds him of Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality, the one with the cute little snort. On top of that, I was sipping milk at that particular moment; the results were a bit untidy.

He fetched a towel, and I wiped up the spilt milk. "Are you sure you want to hear the rest of this?" I asked. I was getting to the embarrassing parts. He'd call them "the good parts," but it would be my turn to blush.

I could see his head begin a nod, but his eyes clouded for a moment and the nod stopped. Oh, I knew it would return. His curiosity was fully engaged. Still, I appreciated that he was at least concerned and deliberate. He finally completed the motion.

I took pity on him. "Okay, the details aren't that bad. Just a little embarrassing maybe - to both of us. I would have told you anyway, but it was so much more fun to get you to 'bribe' me." I ate another cookie, offering him what he calls my "canary-fed cat grin."

"I've been had!" he said, semi-grinning.

"And you love it," I replied. "Anyway, I managed to get you into the bedroom and asked you to undo the zipper. You knelt in front of me and had no trouble at all with the zipper. None." I cleared my throat. "Then you yanked the bottom of the can, along with my tights and panties, down to the floor.

"That wouldn't have been a problem, but you grabbed the bottom hoop and stuck your head underneath. Still no problem, except I couldn't reach past the bottom hoop, and then your tongue started tickling my thighs apart."

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Romantic / Light Bond / Oral Sex / Anal Sex /