Best Served Cold – Chapter 9, Death by Chocolate

Linda and I made dinner together on Friday. My specialty was a spicy seafood cioppino over a bed of fettuccine. Linda had taken the afternoon off to make her ‘Death by Chocolate’ cake with her special touch, a drizzle of Courvoisier over the top and sides while it was iced. Four bottles of my favorite claret stood waiting on the kitchen counter, a silent rank of soldiers as reinforcements for the night to come.

Michael arrived early, surprisingly nervous and animated – not the ‘Stephan’ I remembered at all. He pumped my hand a few times after I let him in, patting my upper arm and smiling warmly. It was almost an unsaid apology, I thought, or at least an attempt to put me at ease. I had remembered him as taller and more imposing, but he was my height and nearly the same build. He had been a much better actor than I had given him credit for.

Linda hugged him and pecked him on the cheek, and he took her hands in his for a minute, admiring her. “I suppose you know what a lucky man you are, don’t you?” he told me, smiling past her as he held her there in front of me.

“I’m sure I do,” I told him. My tone wasn’t nearly as welcoming as his had been. Had I noticed a second of discomfort in his eyes when I answered him? Could he have possibly been afraid, or was it a brief flash of remorse?

“Oh – I almost forgot these,” he said, after releasing Linda. He turned to recover a dozen roses for Linda and a bottle of scotch for me, just outside the door where he had left them before knocking. Linda beamed at him, gushing over the bouquet of red blooms and buds. I was pretty happy with the eighteen-year-old single malt myself.

Linda and Michael sat and talked in the living room while I boiled the water for the fettuccine. It was all business, with back and forth about projects and deadlines. They seemed more like coworkers than lovers. I was relieved the subject of sex between them hadn’t come up. Yet, there was still a hint of uneasiness, mixed with the unexpected potential that anything, good or disastrous, might descend upon us. Each time I’d hear Linda’s voice rise in awe of Michael, I’d imagine his cock in her, and her unbridled joy of its length and girth. The linguini rushed past al dente as my imagination boiled alongside it.


Our dinner seemed to be a hit with Michael; as much as he liked my main course, he heaped praise on Linda for her chocolate-cognac cake. A few humorous stories about Linda and Michael’s college days here and there kept the conversation light, but still reminded me of when and where they first fucked. There was an air of sensual familiarity between them that I viewed with equal amounts of arousal and caution; it was mostly the way Linda gazed at him when he spoke, or touched his arm when she laughed with him. Or, maybe it was just the wine going to my head.

Later, after we moved to more comfortable surroundings in our living room, the small talk carried us through another hour before it ran out of steam and stalled into silence. I brought more wine from the kitchen along with a plate with slices of Linda’s cake to snack on. Linda and I sat beside each other on the sofa, and I had offered Michael the recliner across from us. When we all ran out of words, he glanced at Linda, then me, and sighed.

“I guess we all know why I’m here tonight. So, I might as well start. David, I can imagine what you must think of me, after what I put you through,” he began.

“What we put you through,” Linda added.

He clasped his hands together, leaned forward in the chair, looked at the floor, and shook his head slowly from side to side.

“I cared about Linda. I didn’t know you at all, and wanted to help her recover from whatever happened. I could see how much she was hurting – I’ve never seen her that upset. I’m not judging you – but it was all for her. Only for her. I was pretty rough on you. Jesus, the longer it went on, the more it escalated out of control. She was working out her pain, and I admit, I was caught up in how it felt to have her there beside me like that again. But I’m not that guy. I’m really not. I just care about her.”


I could feel Linda’s eyes on me as he spoke.

“Michael, David and I have talked about this. A lot. It took some time, but I don’t think he hates you,” she said.

“You wouldn’t be here if I did,” I told him. “It took a long time though. You can thank Linda for getting me through most of it. And you’re very lucky I’ve never been a violent man. It took a lot of time for Linda and me to get through all of it, but we’re better now, aren’t we?”

I looked at her when I asked, hopeful she’d show Michael she agreed. Linda put her hand on mine and gave it a little squeeze.

“Besides, you were both lucky I didn’t take my waitress’s offer to fuck me, then never come back. A lot of other men would have,” I told them.

“David! The pretty little Goth girl? The one I had to see about paying our tab after you forgot? Would you really have fucked her?”


“With you and Michael upstairs, well, doing whatever? I was sick with fear and guilt, and revenge wasn’t far from my mind. She almost had me persuaded, but I had pickled my brain with so much booze I wouldn’t have been much good to her anyway, even if had wanted to fuck her – which I did, then didn’t. I don’t even remember some of it.”

“I guess I would have deserved it, David. But I’m glad you didn’t. It means a lot to me that you didn’t make things worse.”

I poured everyone another glass of wine as quiet descended again. Was Michael going to talk about what he and Linda had been up to? He seemed to be avoiding any mention of having sex with her, and what I had agreed to. If anything, he seemed to withdraw before ever hinting at it. We were all a little drunk, and strangely, instead of lessening our inhibitions, it smothered us into silence. I couldn’t find the words myself, yet it was supposed to be the night we came to terms with our decision that Linda could have sex with him. In any case, there weren’t going to be any secrets. Whatever this was to be, I had to be a part of it. As the night staggered into hesitancy and indecision, there remained only one way to do it.

Linda’s white blouse was inches away, so I reached over and began unbuttoning it. One button, then two, then three, all the way down to where it was tucked into her slacks. She shot me a surprised look, but didn’t stop me. Michael sat across the room, staring in silence. She had bought the outfit for that night. It was simple, yet sexy, and I had noticed she hadn’t worn a bra under it when she had dressed earlier that evening. The supple material displayed the round contours of her bare breasts beneath it, and the slacks, although roomy, were thin enough to outline her slim legs and perfect ass whenever the material happened to collapse against her. I hadn’t commented on her outfit, but imagined it was part of the seduction she had planned. I knew he’d probably take the bait, but hadn’t at all imagined I’d be the one to offer it.

I turned off all the lights except the one near her at the end of the sofa, then stood in front of her, parting her knees gently with both hands. She was breathing deeply, looking up at me with surprise and wonder. I smiled, just a little, and she returned it with a longer, more cautious one of her own.

I placed my hands inside her thighs and trailed my fingers slowly up along them to the warm V where they met. Her hips twitched, just for a second, against me. I traced lingering paths up along the creases of her groin, finally hooking my fingers inside the wide waistband. I tugged, just once, very lightly. Her lips parted, and she silently mouthed the words, “Are you sure?” as she stared up at me. I nodded, and answered silently, “I’m sure.”


The catch at the waist opened easily, and I drew the zipper down as far as it would travel. I opened the last two buttons of her blouse, then spread the sides open, displaying the full expanse of her body from exquisite, porcelain shoulders to the lace at the edge of her panties. She flinched when my fingertips brushed her belly. Her flesh looked delicious in the warm light of the nearby lamp.

She slouched a bit, moving her hips just off the edge of the sofa, a position she knew would appear more helpless and yielding. I stopped for a moment to watch her breasts heave and her nipples harden. It was all there – the excitement, the submissiveness, and the desire I knew had surrounded and invaded her, the sum of all our collective erotic fantasies and experiences unleashed inside her. I wanted to put my hands on her, to kiss her breasts and belly, to feel her velvety skin respond to my touch and see her burning core drip for me. But in the next instant, I understood all of it would be for someone else that night.

I inched her open slacks down over her thighs, halfway to her knees. She tried to splay her legs, straining against the bunched material. I had never seen the lacey white panties, no doubt bought for that special night. I stopped to stare again after I lowered the panties against the slacks. She was sleek and hairless under them.

She had opened like an alien flower, with pulsing, wet petals surrounding a bright red, liquid center. An engorged, rubbery stalk lay among the petals, insistent and angry, the tiny head and mouth willing bait for sustenance lured to its entrance. I nearly surrendered, then resisted its siren’s call, leaving it untouched for its intended invader.  

Michael watched from his chair with fascination. When I turned to him, he had already taken his cock in his fist, lost in the sight of Linda’s outrageous display of puckered nipples and drenched pussy. I nodded at him and stepped aside, offering all of her for whatever he wanted from her.

I watched him raise her legs and strip the slacks and panties off her in one forceful tug. He landed between her legs and put his mouth on her, licking and probing deeply within her. She clenched his face between her thighs while he worked on her, and I heard her quiet whispers as I backed away.


“Yes – yes – yes – oh, Michael, yes there – oh FUCK, Michael – fuck fuck fuck, YES…”

Then he stood and looked down at her, stroking himself, committing every curve, hill and valley of her ravenous body to memory. He was so incredibly hard for her. The ridges and veins of his cock raged with greedy anticipation, and he dripped an unending string of syrupy precum.

I’m not sure what Linda saw when she looked at me then. It was something between me finally living a longtime fantasy, and preparing to run screaming into the night, I suppose. It’s not quite what I felt, but I could see how she might have taken it for that. I was frozen there, as hard as I’ve ever been, possessed by the state of her body’s luscious arousal, held captive by the scene before me.

She rose from the sofa and asked, “Can he stay, David?”

I tried the best I could to look over at him without staring at his raging erection. It was both frightening and erotic knowing he was so hard for Linda, and that she was nearly naked so close to him, so ready to let him have her. It was then I knew why she had avoided comparing us. At least she had been joking when she assumed I thought of him as having a “massively thick, ten-inch cock”. Still, I recognized in an instant how his imposing, heavily veined girth must have fueled her hunger for it.

“It’s fine,” I managed to utter. Linda was standing next to him with her pleading eyes fixed on me.


“Are you sure?” she asked. A mix of her perfume and the heat from her body assaulted me in waves when she moved closer to me and took my hand. She looked so desperate, so beautiful, and so fuckable. I thought that if I could have read her mind, that she’d have been starved for him, for the thick, pulsing cock that stood rigid and upright, waiting impatiently for her to take it – in her mouth, then inside her, filling her belly as the length of it dragged across her glistening, distended clit. Even if she could find the words to tell me, I doubted that she’d dare to say them out loud. But her face, and her eyes, told me everything.

When I couldn’t answer, she told me, “We’ll go to the bedroom. Will you be okay out here?”

It was the perfect answer to something I couldn’t reason my way out of. It wasn’t my time to see anything more. I had told her I wasn’t ready, and Linda had accepted it, in spite of her wish to have me there with her. After so many fantasies of her moaning under him, I couldn’t bring myself to watch another man slide his oozing cock inside her.

“Sure. I’ll be fine out here. Enjoy yourself – really, I want you to,” I told her. It sounded silly and out of place after I had said it, but I was too shaken to offer any other response.

Michael was watching. I was sure he had begun to have doubts about where this was headed.

“It’s okay, Michael,” I assured him. “Just a case of first-time butterflies. Be careful with her. Make her happy – but seriously, don’t fuck this up, all right?”


It certainly wasn’t ‘Stephan’ who answered me. He looked down for a second, and then smiled at me. “I’ve always cared about her, David, in all the right ways. None of that has changed.”

Linda took his hand, led him to our bedroom, and closed the door.

I heard them occasionally throughout the night. It was mostly Linda’s passionate cries and her unmistakable responses to his fucking. But then Michael’s lower-pitched groans would travel through the door and wall between the sounds she made and I imagined him coming in her each time. When I slept, I had bizarre dreams of them back in college – Linda in a short, pleated school-girl skirt and skin-tight, deeply cut, V-neck sweater, banging on his door begging for sex, then her on her knees sucking him as a river of semen escaped from both sides of her hungry mouth. The semen kept flowing into her, minute after minute, and she gulped it desperately, looking up at him as though she might be punished for consuming too little of it. I’d wake with an erection, then hear them fucking in our bedroom and wonder if the sounds they made had been woven into my dreams.

Michael left quietly, early the next morning. I pretended to sleep while I watched him tiptoe across the room and out the door. Linda was awake, and I went in to see if she was okay. She was naked, and lay with one leg exposed on top of the sheet, clutching the rest of it against her breasts. She rolled toward me when she heard me come in, baring the rest of her body as the sheet fell away. She yawned and stretched, then reached out for me to join her. I noticed a few used condoms on the bedside table, their contents leaking into a small, crusting puddle.

She drew me to her and hugged me as though we had been apart for weeks.

“Mmmm – did you sleep?” She asked.


“A little. Did you?”

She nibbled on my ear. “Not much…”

“I heard,” I said, teasing her.

“Were we loud? Sometimes I couldn’t help it.”

“So, you had a good time?”

She rolled on top of me, her face beaming, her eyes alive with excitement. “David, it was wonderful. He’s full of surprises – but he doesn’t know my body like you do. I missed that.” She grinned, found my cock, and held it until it came to life in her hand.


“I had some pretty strange dreams last night,” I confessed.

“Mmmm, dirty ones? About me?”

“Yes, about you, and very dirty.”

“Ooooh, tell me! Tell me! The dirtiest one!”

“How about you in a tiny Catholic school-girl outfit, on your knees, sucking Michael until his cum flowed out of your mouth.”

“Mmmm, I like it, but it wasn’t anything that happened last night. I didn’t have him in my mouth once. All he wanted to do was fuck, constantly, all night. He was insatiable.”


“I guess that’s understandable,” I said. “He’s waited a long time to come in my beautiful wife again.”

“Oh stop! You make it sound so… so… well, yes, I guess that’s about right!” she agreed, giggling.

“So, it’s Saturday. What would you like to do today?” I asked.

She rolled off me onto her back, raised her arms over her head, and stretched her body from fingers to toes. It was a luscious sight. Every firm muscle under her tight, pale skin rose along the slim lines of her legs and torso, as though an artist’s hand had coaxed the perfect erotic sculpture from pure, white marble.

“Breakfast! A big one!” she answered.

“And then what?”


“A shower, with you.”

“And…?” I asked again.

“And then, you better get some rest. Because you’re going to fuck me in every room today, all day long, until one of us can’t fuck anymore.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll do it all over again, tomorrow. I have so much to tell you, and I love doing it while we fuck.”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Updated: September 11, 2021 — 3:52 pm
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