Remembering their conversation a few days ago about blowjobs, and remembering what ensued, Nils asked Lisa what she thought about cream pies.

“I like them okay,” Lisa said. “I guess I prefer a good apple. Or strawberry rhubarb. Sweet and sour, you know.”

“No, I meant—” Nils started to say, and Lisa interrupted, “I know what you meant. The cum that leaks out of the cunt (or ass) after the fuck.”

“Am I that much an open book?” Nils asked.

“As a matter of fact,” Lisa said, pulling her dress over her head and bending forward, bracing herself on the table, “what do you think about these fuck-me stockings?”

In response, Nils pushed his cock deep into Lisa’s cunt. “Yeah, yeah, harder,” Lisa implored, thrusting back. “Fill me with your fuck juice.”

When it was over, some fifteen or twenty minutes later, Nils practically sagged to the floor. Still braced against the table, Lisa laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Nils managed to ask.

“Nothing really,” Lisa said. “You know how in baking, the cake’s not done until the toothpick comes out clean? With fucking it’s kind of the opposite.”

It took only a moment for Nils to figure it out. “You’re comparing my cock to a toothpick?” he said.

“Ha ha,” Lisa fake-laughed. “Quite the opposite. And I think my cake’s done to perfection. Want to try a bite?”