This is yet another entry for the National Story Telling Week contest. Here we have another variant on the theme, a story about a story you'd tell only yourself.

Uploaded: January 15, 2025


“May I?”, he asked seductively, pulling out the stiffened leathery mass bulging in his pants.

“You may,” she murmured, tossing her hair back to receive his offering.

His tongue darted playfully toward the soft twin mounds tempting him as they lay back on their sides. Pushing closer, its hard pink tip glided at the last possible moment to a gentle landing, then swept around the bottom of the nearest sibling in a wide passionate circle. Slowly teasing up the valley between the quivering masses, his lips lingered, delighting in delicate tastes and earthy fragrances.

Warmth became heat - tiny droplets of salty perspiration formed, cascading in thin rivulets weaving their way down from each of the peaks. Lightly sucking at each glistening drop in little circlets, he meandered in an ever-shrinking spiral climbing towards the delectable hilltop, a wet trail in his wake. In tantalizing self-torture, he switched his attentions to the siren call of the sister, its sleek damp surface imploring exploration at will.

Carefully supporting the object of his fantasies erect in his nervous hand, he focused on the firm and reddened trophy at its pinnacle. His desire was now fully exposed as he openly hungered to achieve the ascent. Still, he was patient in the journey, careful to sample every glistening driplet along the way. As his tongue crested the hill, it passed ever-so-gingerly around its crowning glory, finally succumbing to temptation and letting it slip between his restless lips. He released his bated breath in a sudden spasm of ecstasy at his story’s end.

She purred and batted her long silky eyelashes, satisfied, returning to him what was his, drained of what she’d wanted.

“Your change, mister…”

“Best salted caramel double cone ever!” he exclaimed, folding bills into his wallet and returning it to his pocket.


Submitted: January 15, 2025

© Copyright 2025 F. Scott Deaver. All rights reserved.

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