Cream and Curves: A Summer Fling

As a junior in college, I was knee-deep in summer break, holed up in my apartment on a random Tuesday morning, grinding through some online course notes. I figured it’d be a quiet day alone, perfect for focus – or so I thought. Turns out, the universe had other plans, and I’m grateful it did.
My roommates had ditched town for a beach trip, leaving me with the place to myself. For me, that meant uninterrupted study time, maybe some music in the background, and no chaos.

That illusion shattered around 10:30 a.m. when my phone pinged with a text from a buddy. I shot back a quick reply about my low-key study plans, but by 11:15 a.m., a crew of friends rolled up, begging me to cook my signature spicy stir-fry. I caved, and by 1:30 p.m., my apartment was alive with chatter, plates clinking, and everyone digging in. Honestly, it was a blast, even if it derailed my productivity.
By 3:00 p.m., they’d cleared out, and I was just settling back into my books when my cousin, Lila, texted me. She was fuming – somehow, she’d heard about the impromptu lunch and was hurt I hadn’t invited her. I told her to swing by so we could clear the air.

Lila showed up at 3:20 p.m., all huffy. After some tense words and a peace offering of my mom’s leftover peach cobbler, she mellowed out.

We started joking, the vibe loosening up, and soon our banter took a flirty turn. She scooped some cobbler cream with her finger, licking it slowly, her eyes locked on mine. My jaw practically hit the floor. Then, with a mischievous grin, she smeared a dollop of cream on her collarbone and said, “Come get it.” I didn’t think twice – I leaned in, my lips grazing her skin, tasting the sweet cream and the warmth of her neck. My hands slid to her waist, tugging at her skirt’s zipper, fingers brushing against her hips. We stumbled off the couch, clothes flying as we laughed and clawed at each other. She broke free, giggling, and bolted down the hall to my bedroom, her shirt half-off.

That sight – her silhouette in the dim hallway, playful and untamed – is seared into my brain (no need to retread it; I’ve probably painted it enough elsewhere).

I chased after her, finding her sprawled on my bed. We tore off what was left of our clothes, the air electric with anticipation…

Our mouths met in a hungry kiss, her tongue teasing mine with a rhythm that sent my head spinning – damn, she knew how to work it.

I gripped her wrists, pinning them lightly as my lips roamed downward, tracing the curve of her jaw, then lower to her chest. Her breasts were soft, perfect, and I took my time, not just kissing but savoring them, my tongue circling her nipples, feeling them harden under my touch. Her soft gasps told me she was into it. I pulled back, darted to the kitchen, and grabbed the last of the cobbler’s cream. Back in the room, I drizzled it over her, starting at her collarbone, letting it drip between her breasts, down her stomach, and along her thighs. My hands followed, spreading the sticky sweetness, massaging her curves with slow, deliberate strokes. She arched her back, laughing, and said, “You’re obsessed with making a mess of me just to clean it up, aren’t you?”

I was too caught up to answer properly, my mouth already working, licking the cream from her skin, tasting the mix of sweetness and her warmth. “You’re unreal,” I murmured, “I could do this all day.”
I took my time, my lips and tongue exploring every inch of her – from her thighs to the sensitive spot between them, where I lingered, drawing soft moans from her. I moved up, kissing her breasts again, then her neck, before finding her mouth, where she kissed me with a fierceness that made my pulse race. She flipped us over, taking control, and we settled into a 69 that felt like pure instinct. My hands gripped her hips, my mouth teasing her, feeling her body tense and shiver with every flick of my tongue. Her curves pressed against me, her breath hitching as she worked me with equal intensity, her lips and hands pushing me to the edge. I could feel her trembling, her moans growing sharper until she let go, her body quaking with a powerful release.

“Oh, God,” she panted, collapsing for a moment.

I was stunned – she’d finished first, which was new. It lit a fire in her, and she doubled down, her mouth on me again, slow and deliberate, pausing whenever I got too close, dragging it out with teasing kisses. “Not yet,” she whispered, “only when I say.”

When she finally gave the green light, she used her hands, her body, guiding me to a release that left me shaking, her skin glistening as she grinned, victorious.

“You got me first, so you earn a prize – what’s it gonna be?” she asked, eyes gleaming.

I knew exactly what I wanted. We got up, and I cleared some books off my desk, making space. I pulled her close, entering her slowly, my hands roaming her body, feeling every curve. She moved with me, her long hair cascading down her back, which she swept aside with a toss of her head that drove me wild.

After a few minutes, I turned her around, lifting one of her legs onto the desk. She shot me a knowing look, lips curling into a smile. I teased her first, my fingers brushing her, then entered her again, deeper this time. The angle was new, intense, and her hands reached back, pulling me closer as our rhythm built. Our kisses were messy, urgent, and we nearly lost balance from the force of it.