ReM/Mixed Erotica: The Secret to Perfect Fondue
"Remember,” said Malcolm, "the most important thing is to attend to the flame.”
Wendell twiddled with the knob on the small burner, noting how the flame responded by swelling or diminishing.
"Keep your hand on that knob, and you’ll be able to maintain the cheese at a perfect level of heat.”
"I think I can do that,” Wendell said confidently.
"Excellent. I’ll attend to things down here.”
Malcolm was speaking from the floor, where he was kneeling in front of Wendell’s bare legs.
When he had invited Wendell over for, as he put it, "an evening of fondue and sex,” Wendell hadn’t realized the two were to be enjoyed concurrently. But as soon as Malcolm had set the fondue things out, he’d invited Wendell to remove his shorts and briefs. And when he chose a position on the floor rather than occupying the seat across the table, Wendell had begun to get the idea.
Now Malcolm reached between Wendell’s legs and caressed the inside of his thigh. "Delicious,” he said.
Wendell squirmed pleasantly in his chair.
As Malcolm teased his leg, Wendell studied the luscious little pools of oil that swirled around the viscous surface of the molten cheese. He felt his own precum begin to trickle out, and the sensation was like an echo of the liquid motion in the pot.
"Keep watching the flame,” Malcolm reminded him. Wendell twisted the knob slightly and saw the cheese settle down into a slightly more placid level of excitement.
Wendell felt Malcolm’s fingers stroking upward, slowly proceeding toward the place at the very top of his thigh where his pleasure receptors seemed to connect directly to his cock—where the delicate flesh almost functioned like an extension of his actual balls. His face flushed as he relished the anticipation.
Malcolm kissed the inside of Wendell’s knee, making him even wetter at the slit of his cock. Wendell opened the flame back up a little and watched the cheese seethe more intensely again. Shifting his ass upon the vinyl chair, he felt himself bubbling under as well.
"There’s nothing like a perfectly-nurtured fondue,” said Malcolm.
His forefinger was now grazing Wendell’s cock slit, and Malcolm could feel the man’s excitement beginning to make his fingertip wet. Wendell closed his eyes momentarily while a shiver of exquisite sensitivity shot through him. Then he opened them again to monitor the fondue. He wriggled his crotch forward against Malcolm’s finger as he rode the burner knob, taking the flame now up, now down, letting it dance around the equilibrium point while the cheese luxuriated and glowed.
Malcolm’s wet finger was now probing Wendell’s fuck hole, delighting him with his own fresh lube. Wendell’s bottom cheeks humped the chair; but still he kept his eyes on the pot. It threatened to boil, and he adjusted the knob.
Suddenly Malcolm’s thumb was on Wendell’s own swollen knob, with just enough pressure to charge the man’s entire body with erotic electricity. Wendell danced in his seat, feeling himself beginning to lose control, but refusing to let go of the dial he’d promised to supervise.
Wendell was in heaven, writhing on Malcolm’s finger while taking jolt after jolt of pleasure from the thumb. He clung to the flowering sensations like he clung to the fondue knob. He wanted to wallow in the churning ecstasy for as long as he could before letting go and giving in.
Wendell let the flame rise again, and saw the fondue attain a perfect, glimmering meltiness, just as his cock melted into pure, liquid bliss and the tremors from his ejaculation ricocheted off the fingertips that clutched the little plastic knob.
He forced his eyes to stay open, but his vision blurred and the whole world seemed to dissolve into the primal soup of the orgasmic cheese.
As the haze crystallized back into reality, Malcolm’s smiling face appeared above the edge of the table. He looked approvingly at the table, then at Wendell. "Good job,” he said. "Shall we eat?”