Wet and Messy Desire: Evelyn’s Cake Splooshing Fantasy

A sweet splosh fetish you will never forget

He thought the night would be simple with candles and champagne and me in silk. Birthdays invite confessions and he finally told me the truth. The fantasy was not toys or threesomes. He wanted cake all over my curves. He wanted to watch me ruin myself in frosting and beg for a taste.

The heat in his eyes made me smile. So I set the table with one perfect cake and nothing else. I walked in wearing black lace that clung like sin and heels that clicked across the tile like a countdown. He forgot his name the second I bent over the cake and pressed my ass into the buttercream.

Sweet frost smeared up my thighs and across the curve of my hips. I wiggled and ground down until the sponge split beneath me. Crumbs clung to lace. I scooped a finger through the frosting and sucked it clean while he stared like a man at worship. The mess spread and so did my grin.

I bounced into the cake again and again until it was nothing but sugar and cream on my skin. His breathing turned rough. His hands twitched like he wanted to help. I made him wait. The sweetest gift was not on the plate. It was all over me and I was not finished unwrapping it.