+18 years

Cherry on the cake

Cherry on the cake, Photo by Muhil Mohan on Unsplash

We left around 3 a.m., before daybreak, before my friends worried.

I leave with the soft warmth of his lips on my forbidden fruit. At that moment, time seems suspended. My feet follow the path home without a sound. For once, my eyes are not searching for a potential aggressor, a shadow ready to appear. No, on this early morning, I feel invincible.

All my thoughts turn to this forbidden, delicious moment. I can only dream of doing it all over again, of not stopping at his lips and taking him much further into my intimacy.

My eyes close on his sweet dreams.


The next day is the last. Last day of towing, last show. And tonight will be the last evening.

I know I should concentrate on this last performance. My thoughts should be focused on the last spectators, on my playing partners and on seizing this last opportunity to shine.

But my mind is focused on one thing: tonight’s party. Somehow, I’ve got to get him back to our pool party. Tonight, he’ll be mine. But for that to happen, he has to come.

For a good hour and a half, my hands feverishly hand out flyers to passers-by. I want to bump into him, touch him, kiss him.

The flyers are almost all distributed, and we enter the theater. We stand in front of it, waiting for it to open its doors. A few minutes later, he approaches with a member of his troupe.

He smiles, his big blue eyes scrutinizing me mischievously. We look at each other. His smile reveals beautiful dimples and his laughing eyes awaken my desire a little more.

He brushes past me, then when the others have turned their backs, he winks at me.

Like two accomplices, we look at each other stealthily. And like the promise of a night to come, he accepts my invitation.


The day passes. When we bump into each other, the complicity is still there, our skins trying to brush against each other, our eyes trying to catch each other.

The last show was far from the best, and the fact that he was in the room witnessing our semi-failure was a small setback.

All you had to do was concentrate a little harder, Miss Mymy, and you had it coming.

Smiling, he gives me a little stinging feedback, insisting all the same that I played very well. I don’t know if it’s true, but on his part, it’s very well played… See you tonight, handsome.

The day passes quickly, and the evening begins… slowly. For a few hours, we’re in small groups, and the glasses of rosé sway between my hands and lips, until drunkenness finally kicks in.

At 9.30pm, he’s still not here. The guests start to arrive and there’s no sign of his beautiful blue eyes. He’s not going to do this to me, is he? I’m not going to be left wanting, am I?

Cat-and-mouse game

Most of the guests are already present when he finally arrives. Accompanied by the pianist and an actress from his troupe, he rushes into our garage on his bicycle, smiling.

As charming and handsome as the day before, I find it hard to hide my confusion and envy. The glasses of wine now clogging my liver are no stranger to this.

A warm kiss to the chick, the same to the little pianist, and finally, I can linger on her cheek.

I slide my hand over her shoulder and feel hers brush my hip. My lips settle in the middle of his cheek, controlling myself so as not to slip and take hold of his…

No, Mymy, take it easy. The man’s almost married, so we’ll have to be discreet.

Discretion isn’t exactly my strong suit, as you know. So I try to avoid him, then approach him, then avoid him again.

I decide to go for a swim, to give him time to get used to the place, and above all not to look like I’m clinging like a mussel to a rock. Even if, deep down, they could all leave, if he stays, the evening will be all the more delicious.

Relative discretion

All wet (in every sense of the word), I wrap my towel around my hips, revealing the plunging neckline of my swimsuit.

It’s all right… Given the size of my breasts, there’s nothing indecent about it. But however small my breasts may be, the appearance of their roundness can still arouse some ardor. No weapon should be overlooked, however small, when you’re a hunter of my kind.

He’s on the sofa, watching me arrive. My eyes meet his, the rest of the room disappears. Alone in the middle of the sofa, he chats briefly with the rest of my troop, and our former director.

There’s no sign of his teammate, and his pianist is set up in front of the piano and already surrounded by a horde of impromptu singers. Perfect, the coast is clear.

I approach slowly, and naturally he shifts a little to make room for me beside him. The sofa is large and we wouldn’t need to squeeze into it. Yet it’s my thigh against his that I settle.

Our skins touch and I feel the desire between my thighs increase, as does his. His eyes scrutinize me naughtily. I flirt, I simper, we laugh, and our position is unequivocal about our intentions.

Patience, patience… little cherry.

We’re eating each other with our eyes, no one is fooled, and yet here we are, stuck on this sofa, brushing against each other discreetly as our lips dream of devouring each other.

As if to keep up appearances, he urges me to move away. He slips into my ear his desire for me, but the impossibility for him to show it, especially in front of the actress in his troupe.

“Later, we’ll have to step back a bit, she’s having second thoughts. You bet she’s having second thoughts…

So I wander off against my will, join the crowd by the piano, and like the others, start humming along to Disney classics. I try to put my heart into it, but my eyes are constantly searching for him. Occasionally, our irises meet and a strong, mutual desire can be read.

The lady who’s been watching us out of the corner of her eye finally slips away. She’s too tired, and suggests that H and the little pianist go home with her.

Seriously? He’s not going to leave now?!

I pray he won’t.

Hallelujah, I see him shaking his head from right to left. And the winner is … Mymy!!!

He warns her to be careful, leads her to the door, orders her to write to him when she gets to the campsite, and returns with a satisfied smile on his face.

We’re rid of him at last! As for the pianist, he’s always surrounded by a horde of enthusiastic singers, and he doesn’t see us moving away. The coast is clear.

Come on, little cherry, this is your moment.

Do you want to “visit”?

The evening is in full swing in the outbuilding. A long gravel garden separates it from the big house where we have our bedrooms.

How to get there discreetly without arousing too much suspicion?

The pretext soon arises.

As I escort another guest into the house to use the bathroom, I take the opportunity to offer my handsome forty-year-old a tour of the main house. A naughty glint immediately begins to shine in his eyes.

He follows me in. We soon leave the big guy, whose bladder tends to explode. We start climbing the stairs. As the floors advance, his hands wander more and more naughtily over my body.

When we reach my floor, we rush into the bedroom, where he turns the knob and gently closes the door.

His eyelids don’t blink, his gaze is frank. His pupils cry out their desire, and mine no doubt do too.

I’ve been chattering away happily for the rest of the evening, but now I’m speechless.

At last… Let’s taste the cherry

He approaches me, I stand straight in front of him, arching my hips slightly. Finally he reaches me, puts his hand on the back of my neck and starts kissing me.

Finally… it feels so good… I let myself go into his kiss. Our bodies wake up, our lips taste each other, our hands palpate, caress and seek each other’s pleasure.

His fingers have left my neck and are now roaming my back, his phalanges pressing against my sweaty skin. At last, his hands come to meet my buttocks and grasp them. His mouth attacks the hollow of my neck, greedy.

Pleasure radiates from my pelvis, I’m craving him like crazy. Every inch of my skin wants to be touched by his.

He grabs the sides of my dress and slides it down my body before tossing it onto one of the beds. Then he pulls away a little, his eyes detailing my body, his gaze greedy, I feel beautiful.

He takes off his T-shirt and comes back to me. His fingers slide over my breasts, linger on my nipples. He’s still looking at me intensely. Then he gently pushes me towards the bed, carefully lays me down and his lips begin to taste everything. He kisses from my neck to the birth of my loins. His fingers slip under my thong. I shiver.

He slides the lace down my legs and up my back with greedy kisses. Finally, he gets to my forbidden fruit.

Her tongue, her fingers make me squirm with pleasure.I tremble and moan. Time stands still with this delicious sensuality.

A beautiful cherry

I want to taste it too. So we improvise (it’s our forte after all) a 69, impossible for him to let go completely, he only wants to give me pleasure.

At one point, I almost beg him to come inside me. So at last he complies. The romp lasts a long time, we devour each other, the positions change according to our desires, they follow the movement of our greedy bodies.

It’s fluid, it’s good, it’s sensual. Yes, it’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for. I have no idea how many minutes have passed, and neither does he.

Together, we writhe in pleasure, panting and crashing against the mattress, breathless, dripping and happy.

He caresses my cheek, grabs my chin and gives me a kiss. I rest my head against his chest and we stand there for a moment, silent, watching the ceiling, listening to our breaths settle.

His fingers stroke my hair, and mine stroke his chest.


I know it’s all going to end, that it’s probably the first and last time. So I look at him, feed off his gentleness, his beautiful azure gaze, and capture it all in my memory.

Finally, he grabs his cell phone. “Ouhlala, we might have to join the party”.

We’ve been here for over an hour, enjoying each other’s company…

Goodbye suspended moment, back to reality.

Between the house and the outbuilding, we kiss again, savoring our salty skins and mutual desire one last time.

By the time we reach the outbuilding, everyone has left. Everyone’s gone clubbing, we’re alone. I’d like to start again, right now, all over again. But I sense that it’s over for him.

I walk him back to his bike and we kiss again. He heads back to his troop, his children and, no doubt, the mother of his children.

Let’s hope my karma points don’t take too much of a hit… But hey, it was worth it after all…