All Day Sucker by Jaqueline Pinchot
Emma had a taste for candy. She couldn’t make it through the day without a chocolate bar, a handful of gumdrops, or a rope of licorice. Sometimes she ate much more than a few of her chosen treats, working her way through a heart-shaped box of See’s or a row of jelly donuts. Luckily, she’d been blessed with a dream metabolism, one that was always ready to burn up whatever she devoured.
At work, they called her “sugar roll,” “sweet-tart,” or “lollypop,” depending on what mouth-watering snack she brought in to share. She didn’t mind the nicknames, as they described the rest of her looks, as well. She was sweet, with cotton candy pink lips and black cherry curls and eyes the exact same hue as dark molasses. She dressed sweet, in candy colors, peppermint stick striped sweaters, pants suits in the rich, jewel tones of Brach’s hard candy, skirts and tops the exact juicy red of a glazed candy apple.
And, although the rest of her coworkers didn’t know this, she tasted sweet. Her cunt reflected the flavors of her favorite candies, combining to make a nectar of cum that was like ambrosia, honey-scented, sugar-rich. All of her lovers had commented on her exotic flavor, her unique scent, and all, even long after their breakups, had remembered the taste of her pussy with a wistful pleasure.
At night, when she made herself come, she would dip her fingers into her mouth afterwards and lick them clean. Her fragrant come was as good as any candy she’d ever had. Her only regret was that she’d never met a woman with a cunt as divine, as rich as her own.
That is, until her new boss, Clarice, arrived. Emma liked this woman immediately. Clarice had incredible style. She wore her short blonde hair slicked back and it gleamed like some sort of glazed confection beneath the office’s fluorescent lights. She dressed in more subdued tones than Emma, but her cashmere suits were in shades of warm, chocolate browns and she slicked her lips with the dark red hues you can only find when biting into a home-made cherry pie.
Emma was intrigued, at first, by her boss’s appearance. But she found herself drawn even closer to something more subtle, more difficult to place. At meetings, Emma seated herself as close to Clarice as possible. In the elevator, she stood directly behind her new boss and breathed in deeply, trying to place the nameless fragrance tickling her nose. Until… until it came to her, in the middle of the night, that hard-to-place perfume. Something spicy, like a cup of apple cider. Something tangy, like fresh gingerbread, warm from the oven. Something sweet, like candy, like Emma’s own honeyed cunt.
Emma decided to stay late the evening after her midnight revelation, knowing her boss was putting in extra hours to finish a big project. And, as Clarice took off her jacket, as her smell began to permeate the room, Emma followed suit, loosening the top two buttons on her raspberry silk blouse, removing her blazer, undoing her dark cherry-pop curls from their staid French braids.
When they were finished working, Clarice settled back in her chair, looking pleased. Then she sighed, took a deep breath, and sighed again. Her eyes lit on Emma’s, and held. Clarice knew it wasn’t appropriate, what she was thinking, what she was wanting. But, seeing her own desire reflected in Emma’s eyes, she decided to make a move. She stood and came to Emma’s side, then bent and inhaled deeply. Emma lifted her face to her boss’s, and said, “You’re as sweet as I am, aren’t you?”
Clarice shook her head, “Slightly spicier, I think. Or so I’ve been told…”
“I’d like to taste for myself,” Emma said softly. And that was all she needed to say. Emma was free of her candy-colored outfit before Clarice had her clothing off. They spread themselves out, luxuriously, on the table and dined upon each other’s cunts. Savoring the difference in their flavors, the bouquet of their come, the lingering full-bodied aroma. Like connoisseurs of fine wines, they murmured descriptions to each other, “Warm and sweet…”
“Rich and delicious…”
“Like licking an all-day sucker.”
That was Clarice’s summation of Emma’s cunt, and she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Not even as her fingers joined in and probed Emma deeply. Not even as Emma, setting her own rhythm, locked her lips to Clarice’s jewel and sucked and tickled and lapped like a kitten drinking from a saucer of warm milk. Clarice was captivated by the confection before her, the treat, like a magic bag on Halloween that never empties. Emma had the ability to come and come and come, each time producing more of the fragrant nectar that Clarice found herself drunk upon.
They were inseparable after that, after hours, of course. But office gossip picked up quickly. Especially after Clarice began bringing candy each day for Emma, leaving the lollipops wrapped in satin ribbons on her desk.