Sweet Mouths, Sweeter Secrets

Vince and I walked hand in hand through the cool, breezy evening toward Aditi’s restaurant. The quiet of the neighborhood wrapped around us, a peaceful pause after the intensity of the last few days.

We placed our order with Aditi. “We’d like to order one of each—gulab jamun, ras malai, mango kulfi, and pistachio burfi,” I said. She smiled warmly and asked, “Will you be eating here or taking it to go?”

Vince replied, “We’ll be eating here.”

“Perfect,” Aditi said, “pick any table you like, and I’ll bring everything over.”

We found a quiet corner and settled in. The soft murmur of other diners and the cool evening air made the moment feel calm and easy.

After a short wait, Aditi appeared carrying our desserts along with a bottle of cashew feni, which wasn’t part of our order.

“That one’s on me,” she said with a smile. “Consider it a little treat.”

We thanked her gratefully.

The desserts were a perfect balance of sweetness and texture—the warm syrup soaking into the soft gulab jamun, the creamy richness of the ras malai, the cool mango kulfi melting slowly, and the nutty pistachio burfi leaving a delicate crunch.

Sipping the cashew feni between bites, I looked at Vince. “So, what do you want to do when we get back to my place?”

He smiled, a playful glint in his eye. “I want to watch some golf.”

I shook my head with a laugh. “Golf isn’t allowed at my house.”

He raised an eyebrow, asking, “Then what do you want to watch?”

“A murder documentary,” I answered, smiling.

He chuckled softly, nodding in approval.

We finished our desserts and drinks, the warmth from the feni settling comfortably around us. When it was time to leave, we went up to Aditi to pay. “Dessert and the feni was on the house, my friend. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

I went behind the counter and hugged her. I whispered: “Thank you, Aditi. I appreciate you and your friendship so much.” She gave one final tight squeeze then Vince and I left.

The cool night air greeted us again as we walked back. We took our time on the way back; we even took a few selfies.

Once home, I showered and slipped into an oversized shirt. Vince set up the living room—the couch pulled out into a lounger, wine and water poured for the both of us, unscented candles lit, and the true crime channel queued up. He then went to the guest bedroom to change into shorts and a t-shirt.

We got comfortable under the blankets, making guesses about who did what to whom on the screen. The quiet intimacy wrapped around us like a soft blanket.

After a few episodes, I took off my glasses and snuggled against Vince. My hand rested on his chest as I whispered, “Vince? Let’s have sex.”

He hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes. “I want that too, but you’ve had a bit drink.”

I looked up, steady and sure. “You know that I am more than fine; I am well aware of what’s going on and I know what I want.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered back.

He leaned down, kissing me softly, his mouth gentle as he bit my lip lightly to coax me open. I welcomed the deepening kiss.

He slid out of his shorts, boxers, and shirt as I peeled off my oversized shirt.

Vince rolled me onto my back and pushed into me. We both moaned, his hands resting firmly on my hips, holding me steady. His weight pressed warmly against me, his mouth finding the curve of my neck with gentle, lingering kisses full of hunger. His lips trailed lower, nibbling softly as his hands slid along my sides, fingers teasing the sensitive skin there. I gasped, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling every inch of him moving inside me.

“God, you’re so perfect,” Vince murmured low, voice thick with feeling. “Damn, you fit me so well, my love.”

I moaned his name, fingers threading through his hair as his hips began to move in a steady rhythm. Our bodies found their pace together — slow, deep, deliberate. The heat between us grew quickly, every movement igniting a fire beneath my skin.

With each stroke, our breaths grew heavier, mingling with soft moans and groans. “Yes, Vince,” I whispered, arching into him, “don’t stop…”

He kissed my cheek, trailing down to my collarbone, then back up as he whispered, “You feel so damn good.”

We climaxed together, his cum warm and deep inside me, and I gasped, clutching him tightly. But Vince wasn’t finished. He pulled out just enough, then pushed back in with slow, demanding thrusts, again and again. I cried out his name as he came in me a second time, then a third, each time a little rougher, a little more desperate.

After the fourth time, Vince gently pulled away and rolled me onto my stomach, his hands smoothing over my back as he positioned himself behind me. He pressed into me from behind, one hand resting on my hip, the other trailing down to cup my ass. His mouth found the nape of my neck, nibbling and kissing with hunger.

“Damn, you’re still so swollen,” he said, voice rough, breath hot against my skin. “I can’t believe it.”

I shivered under his touch, fingers gripping the blankets as he began to move again. Our hands explored freely — his sliding up my back, tangling in my hair, pulling him closer with every thrust. Our mouths searched for each other in hungry kisses between gasps and low moans.

“Vince...” I breathed, voice trembling. “You feel so good.”

He groaned, pulling me tighter against him. “You’re perfect for me.”

We moved like that, bodies joined, breath mingling, hands and mouths roaming. Sometimes I’d arch back to meet his lips; other times, he’d press kisses along my shoulder, murmuring my name with every thrust.

We climaxed together several more times, Vince cumming deep inside me over and over, each time slower but no less intense.

Finally, he pulled out, rolling me gently back onto my back. Our hands found each other, fingers interlacing as he kissed me deeply, tongues exploring, lips trembling with the aftershocks of our passion.

We continued screwing the rest of the night, passionately, lost in each other until the early morning light found us exhausted but sated, wrapped tight in the and the warmth of everything we’d shared.