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(He's Mine!, continued...)

You are never in a million years going to get a chance like this — and you are just going to sit on the sidelines and watch? Screw that. You pull off your shirt, shoes, socks and trousers with all the haste you can muster. Clad only in your underwear you dive right into the mess.

Ostensibly, you act like you are trying to break the two women apart. In practice, this means pushing Natalie to one side to get between her and Kate. However, by now their blood is up and they are determined to get to the other.

You grab Natalie by the arms to slow her down whilst Kate tries to climb over you. You release Natalie to pull Kate away, pressing her cream-covered body to yours. You are rewarded by your efforts by becoming covered in custard yourself. Kate tries to push you away and covers your face with yellow-white mush that tastes amazing.

Looking to take this to the next level, you shove Kate away from Natalie and ‘accidentally’ send her tumbling into the giant chocolate fountain. Natalie follows, as do you. The chocolate feels amazing. Warm and soothing, but thick and gloopy. Your movements are highly restricted.

You grab Natalie by the waist to stop her getting to Kate and you both fall backwards with Natalie landing on top of you. Natalie rolls over to tell you to let her go, but then she catches the look in your eyes and tilts her head questioningly.

Before either of you can say anything, Kate hurls herself onto Natalie’s back — pressing you even further into your chocolate-y swamp. Grabbing Natalie by the hair, she tries to pull her off you. Pulling yourself up, you grab Kate to pull her off Natalie and end up holding her close.

As you do so, Kate can clearly feel the raging erection bulging at your underwear. She gives a cry of outrage and pulls free. Spinning around, she faces you. “Is this all some kind of sick game to you?” she cries, and slaps you hard across the face.

Thoughts of Natalie driven from her head, your girlfriend climbs out the fountain and storms off with as much dignity as a mostly-naked woman covered in melted chocolate can manage. You look at Natalie, and see her biting the end of her finger as she looks at you almost shyly.

“I’m into it…” she says, and then proceeds to lick the chocolate from the finger slowly and deliberately.

You close the gap between you and kiss. As you move your hands down her back, they slide along the sticky lubricant until you are caressing her ass, like a chocolate-covered peach. You slide down her panties till they fall into the chocolate swamp and are lost. Natalie breaks the kiss and proceeds to lick first your neck and then your nipples, as she does so she brings your underwear down and releases your cock, which surges toward her.

Your passions further inflamed, you tear what remains of her dress off and the two of you sink down together into the warm, welcoming, gloop. Moving your hands through the slick warmth, you explore Natalie’s naked body beneath the creamy brown, as she does yours. As one you come together and begin to make love to one another. Natalie bites her lip, “Oh this is so good…” she moans, “so good…”

You should probably hurry before someone comes to investigate the — now completely ruined — dessert competition, but instead you savor every moment. Unhurried and steady, you move in and out of Natalie, nurturing the orgasms you are both growing. Natalie starts to breathe more heavily. “Suck me…” she says, and lowers her breasts to your mouth.

You use your tongue to lick clean the chocolate, cream and custard from her nipples. She tastes so sweet, yet with the slightest hint of salt that comes from Natalie’s skin herself. She gasps in response and lowers her mouth to lick the chocolate from your cheeks and neck.

The moment comes when you cannot put it off any more and you both shudder and cry out as you cum. For a moment, you lie together — you still inside Natalie — and you look up at her wet, dishevelled, messy face, and she has never looked more beautiful.

You part and Natalie wraps herself around you, one leg across you possessively.

“Is this what you meant when you said you had an idea what was on the dessert menu?” asks Natalie, breathlessly. You realize she believes that the whole thing was staged as some kind of world-class foreplay.

“Something like that,” you say, not seeing a reason to correct her, “I declare you, Natalie, winner of the Dessert of the Year Competition.”

The End