If you enjoy this little taste, check out “Crammed at the Christmas Craft Fair“, my spicy holiday gangbang offering: Mitch, Cabe, and Ben have their way with Vickie (and vice versa) and are shortly joined by painter Maria and her Muse. The full scene includes some delectable wax play and clever use of toys.
According to Jennie’s price sheet, the little knit cock covers were called “willie warmers,” and they came in three sizes, eight colors, and two styles. One style, the kind I had innocently slipped on my finger, was closed at the end, like a condom. The other was open at the end, like a miniature neck gaiter, and was made of an especially fine and silky yarn that allowed it to be slid almost all the way down until it bunched up above the ball bag. I tried one of those on my finger, too, and absentmindedly slid it up and down, enjoying the warm, fuzzy sensation. I supposed you could actually fuck wearing that style, I mused, though you’d probably need to hand wash it afterward; I ran my finger along the bunched yarn, wondering how it would feel rubbing against my clit.
At first I was embarrassed by the willie warmers, and kept them hidden behind a pile of alpaca scarves. But people kept asking for them — they were Jennie’s most popular product! — and so I put them out at the front of the table, arranged in a semi-circle from smallest to largest. The large ones sold best, but a surprising number of smalls sold, too, mostly to women who gave me a wink as they paid and dropped their wee warmers into their bags.
There were a lot more sales happening than Jennie had led me to expect, and I wasn’t able to step away from the table to explore. Ben, Cade, and Mitch kept swinging by, though, with little treats for me. Ben dropped off a gingerbread cookie and a glass of milk; Cade brought me a slice of brie with golden spiced honey drizzled over it; and Mitch set out a miniature board with sliced salami, pieces of manchego, and a scattering of dried currants, then stood behind me with his broad hands on my shoulders while I sampled the offering. My senses tingled with the tastes they brought to me.
The sale flew past, and before I knew it, the overhead lights flashed to signal that the bazaar was coming to a close. Customers started filing out, and vendors started packing up their unsold wares. I didn’t have a whole lot to put back into the cardboard boxes: a few scarves and hats, some mittens, and just one willie warmer, a medium sized green one with an open end. I thought about taking it for Brad, in case we hooked up that night and wanted to try something festive, or maybe just keeping it for myself. I slipped it over two fingers and folded the ball bag up in my palm while I finished putting things away.
When I looked around the room, I didn’t see Ben, Cade, or Mitch anywhere. Cade’s table was partially set up, with a couple of candles still standing on it, but Ben’s and Mitch’s displays were both gone. I sighed, a little disappointed, but decided I might as well lock up Jennie’s studio and head home. Brad could be the beneficiary of the warm-up Ben, Cade, and Mitch had given me; I was definitely feeling horny after their attention and little treats.
I was just about ready to switch off the lights in Jennie’s studio and lock the door, and was making one last survey to be sure everything was in order, when I heard a knock behind me. Startled, I spun around to see Ben leaning on the door frame, his hand held out to me with something resting on his palm.
“I was afraid you were going to run away without saying goodbye,” Ben said. “I had to go down to the bakery and grab this special treat.”
Resting on his hand was what looked at first like a braided roll, golden brown and studded with little black raisins. When I picked it up, though, I realized that its shape was much more creative: it was a short, stout cock, curved slightly upward with a bulbous head and resting on a pair of little balls made of bread, with what appeared to be wings laying against the thick shaft.
“It’s a Fascinus roll,” Ben explained. “He was a Roman god of luck and good fortune. Roman bakers used to use the last of their dough to bake one at the end of the day; I pulled this little guy out after my last batch of pretzels this morning.”
“Wow,” I said, turning the little winged penis god over in my hands, running my fingers around its little balls. “It’s almost too pretty to eat!”
“But you have to eat it for the good luck to work,” Ben said, stepping a little closer. “It’s the only way to transfer its energy.”
“The only way?”
“That’s my understanding,” Ben said. “And it’s bad luck to turn it down.”
“Well, I suppose,” I said, rubbing my thumbs on either side of the shaft, feeling the smooth, egg-washed crust on my skin. “But it’s awfully big. I don’t know if I can finish it after all the treats you guys were bringing me.”
“You look like you can handle a nice big Fascinus,” Ben said. His hand rested on my hip as he took another step toward me. “You must have an appetite after all the sales you made today.”
“Since you mention it,” I said, “I am a bit peckish …”
I lifted the phallus to my mouth, but instead of taking a bit I ran its bulbous head across my lips. Then I licked my way down the underside and to the balls, circling each one with my tongue. I smiled up at Ben, who looked down at me with glittering eyes and moved closer still, sliding his hand from my hip to the small of my back, touching the skin in the gap between my top and my skirt.
And then I lifted the phallus to my mouth and took tiny, gentle nibbles along the shaft, barely breaking the crust, before opening wide for a hearty chomp that sent crumbs spilling down my chin. The bread was soft and pillowy, the crust was salty and sweet at the same time, and I closed my eyes, chewed, and swallowed.
When I opened my eyes and looked up, Ben was bending his face toward mine. He put his palm against my cheek while lifting me with his hand on my back, and I went up on my tiptoes to close the space between us. When he kissed me, he tasted of ginger and clove and creamy butter, and his tongue fluttered inside my mouth.
“God damn you taste good,” he said when he pulled away to take a breath. “Like honey and cinnamon.”
“It’s all the tasty treats you were feeding me,” I said, reaching up to run my fingers through his curly black hair. “And you’re pretty fucking delicious yourself.”
“I want to devour you,” he said, leaning down again to brush his lips on mine and then nibble his way down my neck to my collarbone.
I tilted my head, giggling at the ticklish feeling of his tongue on my skin, and my hat almost slipped off. I used one hand to hold my hat in place and the other to run a line down Ben’s chest to his belt. I looped a finger behind the leather and pulled him closer, feeling his stiffening cock through his pants against my belly. My shirt rode up, and bare skin rubbed his rough trousers.
“I’m going to eat every bite of you,” he said, pushing against me so I had to stagger backward, “and go back for seconds.”
He put both hands on my butt, pulling my skirt over the swell of my ass, and suddenly lifted me off my feet. I shouted in surprise, and then wrapped my legs around his torso and my arms around his neck as he carried me to the wooden table against the wall. The Fascinus bun slipped from my hands and fell on the floor, I neither knew nor cared where. With a wide sweep of his arm, he sent Jennie’s pattern books crashing to the floor, and then set me gently but firmly on the tabletop, his mouth crushing mine.
I tangled my fingers in his hair as he kissed his way down my throat and into the plunging neckline of my shirt. His hands grasped my breasts through my shirt, squeezing and fondling, and I groaned, lifting my arms so he could pull it over my head. While he kissed between my tits, I unclasped my bra and let it fall to the floor; Ben took first one nipple and then the other into his mouth, grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth and sucking them deep into his mouth.
He continued kissing his way down, licking my belly, pressing his mouth against my hips, dropping to his knees in front of me and lifting my leg so he could run his tongue down the back of my thigh. I moaned and writhed as lips approached my ass and his hands reached under my skirt, fingers finding the waist of my panties and tugging down.
I lifted my ass so he could slide them off, glad that I had tidied up a little down there in anticipation of my date with brad, trimming my bush down to a narrow blonde strip that pointed right at my clit. My clit, which Ben was eying now like it was the most delectable sweet treat, licking his lips as a line of saliva dribbled toward his chin.
“You look like the most delicious little cake I’ve ever seen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need to eat this treat, lick all the cream off it, swallow every little crumb of pleasure …”
“I’m definitely not going to stop you,” I croaked. His breath on my cunt as he whispered was making me buzz, and I needed contact — firm, desperate contact.
Which Ben gave me, in spades. His lips pressed between my legs, his tongue swirled and lapped and drove into my channel while I gushed with arousal. I wrapped my legs around his neck, grabbed fistfuls of his hair, and moaned with pleasure, pulling his face tight to my cunt, eyes closed in ecstasy.
“Starting without us, I see,” I heard a voice behind Ben say. My eyes flew open in surprise to see Cade and Mitch standing in the doorway, smiles on their faces as they looked at the festive display before them.