“What do you call…” I begin, pointing at it, but my curiosity takes over. “Can I touch it?”
He nods nervously, holding his breath.
A second dickis the wrong way to describe this body part. His primary dick is long and thick, covered in veins and endingin a swollen mushroom head. Unlike the average human dick, however, this one is green, an even darker shade than the rest of him, and has the same little white scars that cover his body. The idea that he was injured here, and all over his heavy green balls, makes me wince on his behalf.
About an inch north of his primary dick, framed by neatly trimmed, dark hair, is a smaller appendage about the length and width of a thumb. It’s not as hard as his dick, but not floppy and soft either. There’s a slight stiffness to it, while still remaining flexible. “What’s this part here?” I ask, pointing at the head of it. There’s an opening that looks like a flower that’s yet to bloom, with a dark green part in the center that resembles a tiny tongue.
“It’s the suckler.”
“This little thing in the center is the suckler?”
“No, the whole thing. Thesecond dick, as you called it.”
I have my theories on its function based on the name, and none of them make me want to call this off. Lining up our parts, it seemsthe sucklerwould fit perfectly against my clit. “Is it sensitive?” I ask as I circle it with my pointer finger and thumb, letting my breath fan over it.
“Not really.” He scratches his head, looking boyish and cute. “I don’t think it’s for me at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“When Dr. Yates discovered that this was a common thing among newly recovered zombies and that it didn’t seem to serve any biological purpose for us, she’d joke that it was God’s apology for the virus. That he turned us into monsters, but if we survived, he’d ensure anyone who took a chance on us was well cared for.”
A loud cackle escapes me. I’m not a religious person, but fuck, that’s a great theory. Feeling bold, I press my finger against the head of the suckler, and holy shit, there’s no better name for it. It sucks the tip of my finger into its hole, while its tiny internaltongue flicks against my finger at differing speeds. The feel of that against my clit or my asshole? I’ll be done for. Possibly in a coma.
The longer my finger is connected to the suckler, the more my pussy drips with need. When I recall the reason my face is down here to begin with, I pull my finger from the suckler. I kiss along Nic’s stomach, then the tops of his thighs, then move down as I pull his briefs all the way down. Now that I know the suckler isn’t an erogenous zone for him, I ignore it and focus on his pretty green dick, throbbing and hot in my hand.
Just as I lower my lips to the head, Nic growls, “Spit on it.”
Hearing the urgency in his voice, knowing how desperate he is to feel the wet friction of my mouth around him, so desperate that he actually wants my saliva covering his dick before it happens, I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I’m eager to give him what he wants. My spit covers the head, and I use it to coat the rest of his length, stroking him down to the base.
“Fuck, Lindsay,” he groans, his knuckles a pale green as he grips the sheets. I press soft kisses along his shaft as my free hand scrapes my nails down his thigh. He brushes the hair off my face and gathers it in his fist. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”
I only have him in my mouth for a second before I pull back with a sputter. “What the shit?”
“What?” he shouts, concerned.
“You taste like…” It couldn’t be. “Like…” I must be having a stroke. “A peanut butter cup?”
Then he gives me a knowing look as his shoulders drop in relief. “Natalie never told you?”
I stare at him blankly.
“That the men of Mapletown are, um”––he’s blushing so hard even the tips of his ears are dark now––“flavored?”
“Flavored?” That does ring a bell. I remember something about a spell one of the former mayors of Mapletown put onthe men, something about…” When the image of a peanut butter cup pops into my head, I understand. “Ah, the favorite flavor of the person sucking the local dicks.” I’ve never disliked blowjobs, more performing them on specific exes, but knowing I’m going to taste my favorite candy each time I put a dick in my mouth does make the process a lot more enjoyable.
“In that case…” I trail off, then give it everything I’ve got. I treat Nic’s cock like a lollipop I need to get to the middle of, an ice cream cone that’s melting, all while massaging his heavy balls. He thrashes and thrusts beneath me, but I don’t let up. I relax my jaw and take him deep. Then I switch it up and suck on his balls for a little while before returning to the head and focus my lips and tongue right there while I stroke him.
It doesn’t take long for Nic to whimper my name as he explodes in my mouth. I swallow as much as I can, but there’s too much. It starts running down my neck and chest, but I don’t care about the mess, because I’m too busy lapping up his special peanut butter cup sauce. It’s fucking delicious, and I’m worried I’m already addicted to it.
His chest is damp with sweat when he gathers me in his arms and hauls me up his body. There he holds me tight and whispers “thank you” and “that was so fucking hot” over and over into my hair. At one point, I move to get up, knowing how sticky we both are, but his arms tighten. “Please,” he begs, “not yet. Let me hold you for a little longer.”
It’s such a vulnerable request, and I can’t resist giving in. “Okay.” We fall back asleep a few minutes later, satisfied and a total mess.
The next time we wake up, the power is back on, and the overhead light is filling me with rage. Too bright. Too harsh. It makes me want to shove my fist through a wall. Why are all overhead lights so aggressive? I find the t-shirt I slept in next tomy side of the bed and throw it on before stumbling toward the front door and turning the light off.
Nic rolls over and peers up at me with one eye open. “Morning, lioness. Sleep well?”
Nodding, I reply, “Both times. But I’ve got a children’s birthday party to cater, and I don’t feel right about preparing all that food while still covered in come.”
