Title: Sunday Sundae
Pen name: shalu
Disclaimer: La Meyer owns La Twilight...I'm just messing.
After Rosalie and I got engaged last week, I kept thinking about the future. Not the immediate future, but the "one day when..." future. I began picturing Rose pregnant, her belly round with my child, my hands over hers trying to detect the baby kicking. It occurred to me how strange it was that her body would swell out, but only from her abdomen. So maybe I was a little curious as to what...OK, I have no idea why I did it. Maybe Jasper or Edward slipped something in my Gatorade.
So, I was trying to shove too many groceries into the SubZero (I need space for my food, okay?) when I had turned to see only the huge watermelon left on the counter. It reminded me of my mom saying that she "looked like she swallowed a watermelon" when she was pregnant with me. Next thing I knew I was standing in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway with the watermelon stretching the fuck out of my favorite Tennessee t-shirt. I smoothed my hands over the melon, imagining how in the hell a baby would be configured in someone's body. I spaced out a bit, waddling back and forth in front of the mirror. I may or may not have started doing those ridiculous "hee hee, hoo hoo" breaths like I was in labor. As if on cue, Rosalie walked in.
"Emmett, what the fuck are you doing?"
I dropped the watermelon. It split in half, splashing juice and melon guts all over the hardwood floor, up the mirror, my legs and...well, pretty much everywhere.
Rosalie's horrified, yet amused expression dissolved completely as she fell into hysterics. "Jesus Crackerjack Christ, Emmett..." she wheezed, her hands on her knees as she laughed. "Should I even ask?"
My sheepish expression and beet-red face probably were answer enough.
"Okay, baby...I get it," she stood back up and sauntered over to me. Yes, she sauntered. Everything she does is sexy to me. "You want to be the one to have the babies? Make sure my hot bod doesn't get all stretched out and ruined?"
"Babe," I began, making that "are-you-fucking-kidding-me?" face, complete with arched eyebrow. "You're such a badass, you could give birth to Godzilla and still look better than Aphrodite."
She snickered, but I knew her too well. My baby blushed. I love it that I can make her blush. I might be the only one in this world who can do that. "Sure...so, what the fuck, stud?"
I shifted awkwardly. The watermelon was soaking through my sock-covered feet, and I was starting to feel sticky. I think some splashed up my shorts and soaked my crotch cuz my balls felt like they were sticking to my leg.
"I just...I was thinking about us, you know...and the future. Kids and shit..." I might've grabbed my junk at the same time, making an adjustment. FUCK! I think I just ripped out some hair off my sack! Goddammit, is that what waxing is like? God bless Rosalie for doing that; she should be fucking sainted. Rosalie put her hand over mine and giggled at the face I made. "Is my pain fun for you?"
"Baby, I'm just getting ideas," she explained with her own raised eyebrow. Immediately, my dick responded. Nothing abnormal when it comes to my reactions to Rose, but the feeling was awkward thanks to the fucking watermelon juice. "You just stocked the fridge, yeah?"
I grunted some sort of response as she licked my jawline, following it to my ear. She bit down and I groaned, my shorts getting really fucking tight, albeit stuck in certain places.
"Okay, I'm going to assume that was a yes," she giggled, kissing and nibbling down my neck. She pushed my shirt up, and I ripped it over my head and threw it into the scattered, wet debris around us. "Did you get sundae fixings?"
My eyes closed as she trailed her tongue down to my nipple, one hand tickling my spine, the other palming my cock. "Uhhnnnngg..."
"Another yes," she said, before tracing her tongue around my bellybutton, kissing it, and standing up suddenly. "Fantastic! I'm dying for a banana split."
I watched, my mouth agape, as she stepped carefully over the watermelon carcass and headed toward the kitchen. "You drive me fucking nuts, baby!" I yelled after her, scratching at my now-itchy junk. "I thought you were gonna lick me clean!"
Her cackle echoed through the house. I followed the sound, walking like I rode a horse way too long, and glared at my wife-to-be, who was bending over in front of the fridge. Fuck...that ass is begging to be spanked...
"Emmett, don't touch my ass with those sticky hands. These pants are dry clean only." Eyes in the back of her head, I swear to God.
"I was thinking of licking you clean...but I'd prefer to have an Emmett Sundae rather than watermelon aftermath." She turned around and winked at me.
I smiled instantly, but asked with hesitation, "You're not gonna make me wash off the watermelon first, are you?"
She returned my smile, but shook her head. "Up to you, stud. First, I'm going to change out of these clothes. And you are gonna clean up that mess in the hall."
It took me a fucking hour and a fucking half to clean up all the fucking watermelon shrapnel. It splattered in places I never would have imagined! No shit, there was a fruit-splooge on the ceiling! And God only knows how a blob got on the opposite side of the bedroom door off the hall. The opposite side, for fuck's sake!
Sweaty and covered in that shit by the time I was done, I jumped in the shower just to rinse off how fucking annoyed I was. Yeah, yeah, it was my own fucking fault, but holy hell. No food should be able to be that fucking sneaky. It was like there was a fucking grenade in the middle of it, and when it dropped, it blew.
Calm down, dude. Rosie is gonna cover you in whipped cream, chocolate, and whatever the hell else she wants to use and lick it all off. I groaned to myself, thinking about the forthcoming sexathon as I dried off. I wrapped the towel around my waist, noticing I was already at half-mast. I swear to Christ, I hope Rose doesn't mind fucking for a week straight, because I've got our honeymoon planned out.
"Rosie!" I called, walking down the now spic-and-fucking-span hallway. Seriously, that shit shined. "Ready for dessert, baby?"
When I got to the kitchen, I was glad I had the doorjamb for support. Rosalie sat perched on the counter wearing only a tiny, ruffled apron and a knowing, sexyasfuck smile, her soft, golden hair twisted up into a knot. I love tits, hers most of all, and this apron did not have nearly enough fabric to cover my girls. Yeah, I said MY girls. I own stock. Her nipples were pert and peeking out the top, begging for me to suck on them, lick them, nibble them, bite them hard....FUCK, I LOVE THIS WOMAN.
"I've got quite an appetite, Emmett," she purred. "As you can see, I've got everything I want...to lick...very slowly...off...you." She gestured to the array of jars, cans, and a couple bowls of fresh fruit. I hadn't seen any of it, to be honest.
Holding out her hand, she curled her finger to beckon me to her. It was tractor-beam action, I was completely fixated. I felt my heartbeat quicken, my lips twisting into a wicked smile. I visually drank her in even more, casting each curve into a permanent model in my brain. Every goosebump, perfectly random freckle, the gleam in her eye that promised my desires to be sated, the pursed pink lips shining as her tongue passed over them again...and again...all of it was etched into memory.
Finally, I stood directly in front of her. I kept sweeping my gaze over her body, noticing at last that her tiny little apron was a kid's apron. It was pink with light green ruffles and bright red stitching, the embroidery across the chest said, "Strawberry Shortcake." "Nice touch, babe," I said, noticing my voice had gone hoarse and scratchy. I might devolve into simple grunts or growls soon.
She giggled, inciting the animal within me. I began to fear that she would not get far with her little Sundae Buffet game and I might just bend her over the counter first. "Why don't you lie down your towel on the floor," she directed, her voice commanding but sweet. "I'm hungry."
No need to argue with the woman, I unfastened the towel slowly to tease—two can play at this game—and reveled in the feeling of the cooler air hitting my skin. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the divining rod. Yeah, I said ROD. It's one helluva rod, too. I'm blessed, people, what can I say? I watched my girl squirm with anticipation for a minute before I bent over to set the towel on the tile. She smacked my ass good and hard. I groaned and turned my head to tell her, "You're next." She nodded and giggled some more.
Sitting down on the towel, I laid back and stretched out, entwining my fingers together behind my head. Sure, I might have plastered a smirk across my face that said, "Smug Motherfucker," but I didn't think that deserved the indianburn-style nippletwists she inflicted on me.
"OW, ROSE! What the fuck!?" I shouted, holding my hands over my now-tender nipples.
"Just heating you up to cool you down, sweetie." Total lack of remorse. Who's the smug motherfucker now? I can't even be mad. Who am I kidding? I liked it. Grinning at me, she continued, "Close your eyes for me, baby."
I eyed her for a moment, anticipating another surprise, but I figured, "fuck it," and settled my head back on my hands again. I closed my eyes, listening to her move around and opening the freezer, and peeling the top off of a container. Oh, shit...that's—
"COLD! Fucking hell, Rose!" I screeched, possibly a tiny bit like a girl, as Rose plopped a small scoop of Gold Medal Ribbon ice cream on my left nipple. She smeared the remainder of it left on the spoon across the right one, just making sure each nub was equally traumatized. Going for another scoop out of the carton, I whimpered slightly.
"Emmett...baby, would I do this to torture you?" She hovered over me on her hands and knees, her apron gaping in front, allowing me the view all the way down to the promised land.
"Uhhh..." Words gone.
"I thought you'd agree." Simpering victoriously, her sky blue eyes peered through her lashes as she pushed her bottom backwards. "I feel you back there..."
All she had to do was back up one more inch, and sit down, essentially, and we'd have a bucking bronco rodeo show. "You could feel a lot more," I growled. "Just—"
My hands were at her hips, ready to push her where I wanted her exactly. Stopping my hands, Rosalie cracked up, teasing me mercilessly by rubbing herself all along me. "Not yet, baby...I will have my dessert before I have the main course."
Lowering her lips to the quickly melting ice cream, she lapped up the trail running down my ribs and all traces of the first scoop. Licking the creamy mess along her lips, dribbles painted her chin. "Mmmmm...I think I need some toppings, though."
I had no idea what a mess she was prepared to make. She grabbed the chocolate sauce, jars of caramel, strawberry, and butterscotch sauces, and set them all out next to me. She dipped her finger into the caramel and ran it along my lips, allowing me to wrap my tongue around it. I nibbled the pad of her finger gently, earning me a quiet purr.
"Come on, Rosie," I urged. "Let's get dirty..."
Agreeing with a deep hum, she stood above me. She leaned and grabbed the bowl of sliced bananas, digging in with one hand and dropping them across my stomach. Setting the bowl down, she then picked up with the strawberry sauce in one hand, the chocolate in the other. Tipping the chocolate sauce, she made sloppy figure-eights around my pecs and a criss-cross along my abs. The strawberry sauce made a target around my bellybutton, trailed up to my neck, swirled over each shoulder and back down, until almost every part of my body—including the family jewels—were covered in strawberry sauce.
"Big fan of strawberry sauce, are you?" I snickered, watching her nod and waggle her eyebrows.
She reached for the whipped cream can, held it in front of her crotch and shook it like she was a sixteen-year-old jacking off. Do not cum right now. DO NOT! She knew what she was doing, though; her smirk was evidence of that. Turning around and bending from the waist, she was doing something with the whipped cream on my nuts—making a smiley face or hell if I knew...I was staring at her. Beautiful. Bare. "Rosie's rosy rosie," I called it once. She called me a five-year-old girl. I fucked her up against the fence in her parents' backyard that night, making her cum so hard she took the comment back. That may also have diverted her parents away from the argument about coffee grounds they were having in the kitchen, and alerted them as to what we were doing. Her dad really hated me for a few months. Her mom, however, kept making wagging eyebrows at me for a while. Hold on, she still does.
Fingers snapping in front of my face brought me back to the present, realizing I'd been staring into little Rosie for God only knows how long. Not a bad spot to get stuck, if I must. Heh. "See something you...want?"
"Hell yes, woman!"
Absentmindedly, I scratched a little itch on my chest, getting strawberry sauce and chocolate all over my fingers. I brought them to my mouth and tasted the sweet syrups with a smile, watching Rosalie intently the whole time. She hunkered down to take me in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the tip, playing with me just like I loved it. I moaned, dropping my head back a little too hard against the floor. "Fuuuuck, Rosie, I love you so fucking much..." She hummed, vibrating me against the back of her throat.
Suddenly, the itch on my chest started to burn a little bit, and my tongue was tingling. I ran it roughly over my teeth, thinking it might just be from the sweetness. I focused on the awesome blowjob I was getting until I felt the tingles in the back of my throat. What the fuck? I started feeling really strange, what with the very pleasurable sensation in the groinal region, but the fucking uncomfortable tickle kept forcing me to clear my throat.
Rosie released me with a pop, "What?" She was a little annoyed, actually.
"Baby, I...what?" She was looking me up and down with a sort of incredulous look that was starting to freak me out. I followed her gaze and noticed several red blotchy spots all up and down my torso. "...the FUCK?"
The itching sensations spread from my chest, my skin starting to burn a little...all the way down to my crotch. Holy fuck, my balls are on fire.
"Rothie...mut da?" Sonofafuckingbitch, my tongue is swollen!
"FUCK! Emmett, I think you're allergic to something! SHIT! Can you breathe okay?" Her eyes looked a little panicked, so I sucked in a fast breath, my throat feeling tight. My eyes went wide and my breaths got fast and shallow.
I scrambled up, only to realize I stood up too fucking fast and nearly passed out. My tongue had swollen, nearly filling my mouth, and I had to breathe through my nose. Rosalie was grabbing at my arms, trying to drag me toward the bathroom. Stumbling over the bowl of bananas, I stubbed my toe as the banana slices went flying. Goddammit, more fucking fruit all over the place.
I stepped on a few pieces and slipped, falling hard on on my ass and knocking my head against the cabinets. I heard Rosalie scream before I completely lost consciousness.
At some point, incessant staccato bursts tugged me out of the sleepy fog. The beeping was seeping into one hell of a fucked up dream involving legions of fruit with vampire teeth. Happy to be out of that ridonkulous surreal scenario, I rolled my eyes to clear the blur. Annoyingly garish lights, bland walls, fuckawfully uncomfortable bed...I was in the hospital.
A soft hand gripped my forearm fiercely. I lolled my head towards it, finding Rosalie leaning her head against the mattress. "Rose?" Her head snapped back, and I watched tension drain from her face, leaving a film of guilt over her eyes. "Baby, why—"
"I'm so sorry, Emmett...I didn't fucking know!" She yelled at me.
"Whoa, slow down, Rosie," I pulled both of my hands back and held them up in surrender. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She huffed and sat back in the guest chair, holding her hand out in front of her, examining the engagement ring. I took the opportunity to do a physical check of myself. Peeking down the hospital gown, I saw there was only a couple of small red blotches left on my torso. My throat felt okay, though my tongue seemed a little fatter than usual. Hastily, I grabbed my junk like it might fall off. WHIMPER. Okay, a little extra-sensitive yet.
I heard a growl from Rosalie.
"What?!" I snapped at her, curious as to why she had any right to be pissed at me right now. "You're not the one in the hospital bed with tender balls, so why are you all pissed?"
"You scared the shit out of me, Emmett! Why didn't you tell me you were fucking allergic to strawberries?"
Today, my fiance and I decided to engage in some erotic food play. She covered every region of my body, including my genitals, with strawberry sauce. Today also happens to be the day that I found out I'm allergic to strawberries. FML