One Scoop or Two?

By Slave Nano

“I’ve heard Prague’s a lovely city, you know.”

“Oh really, is it?”

Keeley was thrilled her boyfriend Darren had invited her on a weekend break and entirely at his expense. In her imagination she had built up an image of a romantic tryst in some exciting, exotic city; a sophisticated place where they could sit in a town square café drinking cappuccinos and stuffing themselves with patisseries followed by a stroll down an elegant boulevard, perhaps taking in the odd art gallery, before going out for a nice meal and then retiring to bed for...well guess what, some hot sex of course. But she was starting to get a bit concerned. Every time she dropped a not too subtle hint about some romantic location she’d simply love to go to, it got parried with some disparaging comment. For his part Darren was also worried. Knowing what he actually had in mind he felt the need to suppress some of Keeley’s more extreme expectations.

So their conversations about the weekend were a strange exchange of increasingly extravagant hints countered by a corresponding absurd objection. The hint about Prague was met with, “It’s ever so hot in central Europe in the height of summer. You don’t want to be trailing around a city in that kind of heat, do you?” When she commented that Venice was a very romantic city and she’d never been there before, she got the riposte, “But, you know all those lagoons stink in the heat, and you know how sensitive you are to smells.”

What had he got planned for her? He would only say it was a surprise and a special place that meant a lot to him. As the date of the weekend approached it became more of a mystery. She hadn’t been asked to bring her passport so she was resigned to the fact it wasn’t going to be abroad though. On asking what clothes she needed, she had been told to pack her bikini and things for the beach.

As they set off from London Darren still refused to reveal their destination and it was only after reaching signs that read, ‘Bridlington’ that he finally announced, “Well, here we are, this is it.”

Keeley was aghast. Admittedly she didn’t know much about Bridlington, but her picture of it was not exactly how she had imagined their romantic weekend away. She couldn’t help but betray her disappointment and irritation.

“But why on earth would you choose here?” she asked with undisguised disdain.

Darren looked crestfallen and Keeley suddenly felt terribly mean. Yes, her expectations were much higher than a traditional family seaside town but he had offered to take her away for the weekend entirely at his expense and maybe she was being unfair on him.

“Well, I’m sorry Darren, but it’s not exactly, Paris or Vienna or Venice is it?” she added guiltily.

“But, I’m taking you back to my roots. You know I was brought up in Leeds. Well, we always used to come to Bridlington for our summer holidays. I haven’t been back in years. I just wanted to come back and share a bit of my past with you.”

“Aaaah, that’s so sweet,” smiled Keeley

“So, did you always come to Bridlington for your summer holiday?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Didn’t you go anywhere else? Scarborough, even.”

“No, far too posh for us.”

“Whitby?”

“God no,” smiled Darren with that annoyingly infectious boyish grin she loved, “too many vampires. My mum was religious. She’d have been afraid of waking up as one of the undead.”

They got changed in the hotel and set out for a stroll along the beach. Keeley had bought some new summer dresses for the weekend. The one she had changed into was a gorgeous emerald green with a jazzy navy blue pattern around the hem, which she wore with her favourite pair of matching blue sandals. She looked and felt very stylish in it. It hugged her pert little bottom perfectly and displayed enough cleavage to be sexy without showing too much. It would not have looked out of place on the French Riviera and it was certainly turning heads on the prom at Bridlington. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her chestnut brown hair and felt very smart, sexy and sassy.

“Oh look,” enthused Darren, “it’s just as great as I remember.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, just look at those sands. Brid Bay was brilliant for a kid.”

“Hmm, yes, for a child of ten maybe.”

“But just imagine. Close your eyes and then open them again. You could be in the Med! I bet you won’t find a beach as stunning as that anywhere in the south of France.”

“Really? Look. Look at that,” she said pointing indignantly in the direction of the brilliant golden sands.

“What?”

“Donkeys!”

“So?”

“You don’t get donkeys at St Tropez.”

Looking across the bay she could almost see Darren’s point. Not entirely; she wasn’t quite sold on the idea that Bridlington looked like the Med, but it was a sunny summer’s day with a brilliant blue sky and there was a huge expanse of golden sands spread out before her with a view of white chalk cliffs in the distance. She grudgingly had to admit it did look pretty good. How often had she sat on a beach in Spain crammed with sunbeds wishing for something more natural and less crowded; here it was. And if the sands were attractive Darren was even more so, with his slim body, tousled fair hair and boyish good looks.

After strolling hand in hand along the beach and paddling on the edge of the sea they soon found themselves a quiet isolated spot and spread out their towels on some sand dunes between the crumbling clay cliffs. She had started to chill. She stripped off her dress, pulled her sunglasses down and got her Kindle out of her bag.

“Are you coming into the sea?” asked Darren.

“You’re kidding. That’s the North Sea, it’ll be bloody freezing!”

No she would lie there soaking up the sun and read. She switched her Kindle on. It was loaded with some of her favourite erotic writers she had put on especially to get her in the mood for a sexy weekend.

By the time they had set off back for the hotel Keeley’s mood had mellowed. The promise of Darren taking her sand surfing the next day, which looked fun, was good and though she could go with a game of crazy golf - the idea of hitting a golf ball through a silver flying saucer quite appealed - she had politely turned down the exciting prospect of the petting zoo and model village.

Keeley had popped into the loo and just about caught up with Darren when she observed him from a slight distance standing below a brightly coloured sign that announced ‘Danatoni’s Ice-cream Parlour: The Home of Authentic Italian Gelato’. Beyond him was a huge freezer containing a range of perhaps as many as forty different ice-creams. They were laid out in huge mounds of pastel pinks, yellows and oranges and a whole variety of shades of brown and cream and white, decorated with pieces of fruit, nuts, chocolate or coffee beans . It was a cornucopia of colours and smells. Darren stood, goggle-eyed and drooling, gazing at the ice-cream looking like a pervert let loose in the red light district of Amsterdam. Keeley sidled up to him.

“Put your tongue away or you’ll embarrass yourself.”

“This place is still here. I remember it from when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, I bet you were a real pain. ‘Maaam, can I have an ice-cream? Gaw-on mum, let us av an ice-cream!’”

“Oh, but Key, this isn’t just any ice-cream. This is Danatoni’s ice-cream. This is the very best ice-cream in the whole universe. This place was ice-cream heaven. Look, all those flavours. Real Italian ice-cream. Only using fresh ingredients. Gelato made only to a genuine Italian recipe.”

“Oh my god Darren, listen to yourself, you sound like an advert.”

“But look, they’re doing behind the scenes tours and the last one is going in a minute. We have to go. Pleeease Key, can we go on the ice-cream tour?” he pleaded, “Gaw-on Key, please let us go!”

Keeley laughed, “Ok, but you better be a good boy. And don’t pester for an ice-cream afterwards.”

She was hoping to go back to the hotel room for sexy fun before finding somewhere to eat, but Darren’s infectious enthusiasm and sense of fun had won her over.

The tour was interesting enough. They wandered around vast, shiny, stainless steel vats where the ice-cream was mixed to the humming sound of giant fridges for a demonstration of how the ice-cream was made to an over-enthusiastic Italian-English commentary, ‘we only use-a, the best-a ingredients to a recipe handed down-a through generations from great-grandmama Danatoni.’”

But as the tour was winding up Keeley snagged her foot on one of the mixing vats on the floor. The rest of the tour was already ahead of them, but she had to take her sandal off and sort it out. She couldn’t walk back bare foot, and this was her favourite pair .

“It’s okay, I know what the problem is. It’s done it before. I know how to fix it, it’ll only take a couple of minutes,” she explained.

Darren waited patiently but as Keeley continued fiddling with the leather straps, he eventually urged her on, “Come on Key or we’ll get locked in.”

“Oh don’t be silly, they won’t lo- ”

The lights flickered and went out. They were plunged into darkness.

“Oh dear.”

It took them awhile in the dark stumbling amongst the stainless steel equipment to find the door out of the ice-cream making area. When they pushed the door open they realised they had emerged back into the parlour. Darren found some lights. The neon flickered on, plunging them into a bright synthetic light, which illuminated a stylish interior with a kitschy retro 1960s look. There were neat round metal tables and chrome and leatherette seats. The mirrored wall behind where the ice-creams were served was lined with glass dishes in variety of shapes and sizes. The one concession to the family’s origins was a photograph of the Italian world cup winning team of 2006 mounted prominently on the wall. They had tried several doors and there was no obvious way out. They had come back and stood behind the refrigerated counter with all the ice-cream where the staff stood to dish up scoops into cornets and tubs.

“Oh shit, what do we do now?” exclaimed Keeley.

“Well, there’s only one thing for it, we’ll just have to try some ice-cream!”

“You can’t do that!”

“Well we can’t starve can we? And, I mean, look at all this.”

He swept his arm over the chillers, gesturing towards the rows and rows of flavours of ice-cream. He cast his eye across the labels in front of the huge mounds of brightly coloured ice-cream, carefully selected a flavour, inserted his finger deep into a mound of light brown ice-cream with dark brown flecks and pulled out a huge dollop of it on the end of his finger.

“Darren!”

He put the finger to her pink lips and, reluctantly, she pursed them open to allow the finger to slide between them and her tongue wrapped itself around the generous blob of ice-cream.

Tiramisu. Black bitter espresso coffee, sweet masala wine, soft soaked sponge, oodles of whipped cream sprinkled with cocoa. It was her favourite desert. Darren certainly knew how to hit the right button. All of those flavours wrapped up in such an ice cool creamy texture made sensational tastes exploded in her mouth. It was a flavour so rich and sensuous it sent a shock wave right to her brain, and straight back down to her cunt. She sucked the finger that gently explored the inside of her mouth licking every morsel of the ice-cream off. Darren looked at her expression and saw it drift off into the realms of ice-cream delight. He recognised the look well; it was an expression of serene beatitude, as the magnificent indulgence of pure Italian gelato hit home.

“I told you it was ice-cream heaven,” he whispered.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured.

“Do you want some more?”

“But Darren, should we - ?”

But this time her indignation was half-hearted. Yes, of course she wanted some more! Darren plunged his finger into the tiramisu ice-cream again. This time Keeley’s mouth was open and expectant. Darren rubbed the ice-cream along her lips, teasing her with a mere hint of its explosive flavour and creamy texture. Her lips widened, imploring him to slip the finger into her mouth but he pulled it away a fraction, playing with her and forcing her to reach out with her tongue to lick it clean. They played out this little teasing game until Darren allowed her to run her tongue along his finger before eventually pushing it into her mouth for her to suck it clean.

“Your turn now,” she smiled, “what’s your favourite flavour?”

“All of them,” he grinned. “But for starters, how about ciocollato all’arencia.”

“You speak Italian!?”

“No, only the language of gelato.”

“Oooh, that sounds sooo sexy,” she gasped, “say some more.”

Darren pulled Keeley close to him so her breasts were squeezed against his chest, pulled some strands of her chestnut brown hair to one side and whispered in her ear.

“Giandjuga..... zabalone..... nocciola..... malaga..... amorena..... melone.....”

She realised it was corny and Darren was hamming it up but it she couldn’t help but feel horny at the mellow, sensuous sounds of the Italian names. She was so turned on she had forgotten the absurdity of the situation - locked in an ice-cream parlour, literally feet away from families strolling along the promenade - with her delicious man speaking sexy Italian ice-cream flavours.

“Stracciatella. I think you should try some stracciatella,” he murmured in her ear.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“A kind of chocolate chip, but believe me, not like any you’d have tasted before.”

They put their fingers in the respective tubs of ice-cream. Keeley in the ciocollato all’arencia, Darren in the stracciatella and slid them sensuously inside each other’s mouths. The mounds of ice-cream having been deposited in their respective mouths they pulled their sticky and saliva covered fingers out. Darren pulled Keeley to him and their lips met with a sensuous kiss, the flavours of the ice-cream lingering. Their lips parted and they started to explore each other’s mouths, exchanging the melted ice-cream and their intense chocolate and orange flavours between them in a long and passionate kiss. Keeley was sopping wet and she could feel Darren’s hardness through his shorts pressing against her crotch.

He reached behind her and began to unzip her dress, slowly and lingeringly pulling the zip down to expose the smooth flesh of Keeley’s back. He breathed in the sensuous fragrance of the sun tan lotion she’d used. She gasped and muttered quietly.

“But, what if someone comes in? There’s people out there just yards away - kiddies, families.”

“Do you care - do you really care, Key?”

Her elegant, pretty green dress slid to the floor of the ice-cream parlour. Fuck, no she didn’t care. Her objections were only a token resistance. Her heart was racing with desire and yearning sexual need. As she stood there in just her polka dot bikini and sandals she unbuttoned Darren’s shirt, running her hands along the smooth hairless skin of his chest and pulling the shirt urgently off his back. He smelt of the sea, all salty and sexy. Darren was already at the back of her bikini top, his expert fingers undoing the hook, letting the top drift to the floor and releasing her beautiful tits. She touched them gently with his hands, kneading the lovely soft tanned flesh with long fingers. She wanted him to carry on, but he pulled away and this time, instead of plunging his fingers into the containers of ice-cream, he took up a plastic spoon, dipped it into the ice-cream and pulled out a big dollop of pure white creamy stuff. Surely he wasn’t going to? He put the dollop of ice-cream right on the end of her nipple. They were already taut and expectant in anticipation of what Darren was going to do but as soon as the freezing ice-cream touched them they went stiff and erect. She groaned. Darren had already reached out with the plastic spoon for another dollop of ice-cream, this time a pale yellow colour.

“What flavours?” she murmured, her voice trembling with an aroused flutter.

“Coconut and pineapple,” he whispered in her ear as he placed a dollop of the pineapple ice-cream on her other nipple.

A veritable tropical sundae, she thought as she let the icy coolness hit her and felt her nipple stiffen with a mixture of icy pain and sensual pleasure. Darren held her gently by the shoulders and leant his head forward. Oh my god, she thought, he’s going to lick it off. Now her cunt really was aching. His tongue reached out and licked gently across her hard nipple. She could feel the rough touch of his tongue amongst the cream texture of the ice-cream and it felt so good. His tongue was all over her, licking around her aureole, flicking across her nipple and then nipping her gently with his teeth. He gave the same attention to her other one whilst Keeley gasped and moaned with pleasure until all the ice-cream had been licked off and her nipples stood proud, wet with the moisture of Darren’s exploring tongue.

This was sensational. She had never expected this unassuming seaside town to provide her with an experience of such unadulterated sensual pleasure. Now it was Darren’s turn. She furiously untied the cord around his swim shorts, loosened them and pulled them over his lovely slim hips and backside until they fell onto the floor. His cock sprung up, hard and erect. His eyes widened in excitement and anticipation. Keeley cast her eye across the rows of stainless steel containers full with mounds of the delicious ice-cream. Hmmm, she thought, what flavour do I fancy? She wanted a contrast to the chocolatey, orange, tiramisu flavours that still lingered in her mouth. Yes, that was it. She picked an ice-cream scoop and half filled it with a pale ice-cream with just a hint of yellow and flecks of a brighter buttercup colour. She emptied the contents of the scoop onto the end of Darren’s raging hard cock. The icy cold hit the tip of his erection and he gasped with the sensation.

“What flavour?” he gasped.

“Limone,” she whispered sexily in his ear.

“Shit Key, you really ought to learn Italian you know,” he smiled.

She ran her hand from the tip of his cock along the length of his shaft spreading a thin layer of the ice-cream along the bulging veins of its surface. He groaned with the sexy touch. She got down on her knees and ran her tongue along the length of his member reaching the tip and flicking her tongue across the little hole at its end. The taste of was sensational. She wanted it all in her mouth now; every bit of throbbing hard flesh and each morsel of creamy lemon ice-cream. She took the whole tip of his cock into her mouth and flicked her tongue all over it.

“Oh shit Key, that’s ecstasy,” Darren moaned.

She ran her lips up and down the shaft, slowly and sensuously at first but then gradually increasing the speed of her movements until her head was bobbing up and down sucking on Darren’s penis. It was a strange combination of the throbbing warmth of the hot flesh of his cock and the cooling, refreshing flavour of the tangy ice-cream. She didn’t bring him to climax but he was so close his hips were twisting with pleasure in her hands as her lips moved up and down his shaft.

As she pulled her mouth away from his cock he moaned with pleasure. She got up from her knees with a broad grin on her face. It felt great to be able to give that much pleasure to somebody. But, Darren wasn’t finished yet. He slipped his fingers into Keeley’s bikini bottoms and sensuously teased her by running them inside, brushing across the sensitive skin so deliciously close to her sex. He started to pull the bottoms down and Keeley helped him by pushing them to her ankles and wriggling out of them. She stood in front of him entirely naked, aside from the mischievous sandals that had got them into this predicament. This was crazy, she thought. Here she was stark naked in an ice-cream parlour just feet away from the promenade. But she knew there was no turning back now. Darren had moved one of the chrome chairs into position and guided her gently down into it. Keeley offered no resistance. She knew it was her turn to get some pleasure and was confident Darren would oblige. She sank her arse back onto the leatherette seat and rested her arms on its chrome frame, and waited expectantly.

Darren picked up one of the metal ice-cream scoops and ran its smooth, curved surface up her arms, across her shoulders and along her breasts. Her bronzed flesh tingled with the coolness and the smooth metallic surface against her. He ran it across the smooth flawless skin of her midriff and then ran it across the top of her mound where she had shaved earlier this morning. The cool metal felt and looked so erotic, she had never experienced a sensation quite like it. She sank deep down into the chair expelling little gasps as the rounded metal ran across her mound. God her cunt was wet, so wet. Darren turned around and leant back over the humming refrigerator unit. He emerged again this time with a mound of ice-cream in the metal scoop. It was a pastel shade of pink.

“A scoop of fragola for madam,” he whispered.

“Oooh yes, yes please,” she gasped as the cold ice-cream dropped onto her mound. It plopped down right on top of her cunt lips. The cold made her wriggle and squirm but after the initial shock she could feel the ice-cream soften and melt at the edges.

“Would madam like some strawberry sauce with that?”

“God yes,” she squealed in ecstasy.

Darren held the plastic bottle over her and squeezed a trail of sticky, sugary strawberry syrup over the ice-cream.

“And some nuts?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Darren sprinkled some chopped nuts on top of the ice-cream and sauce.

“There we are madam, one strawberry sundae. But, my word madam, that looks good enough to eat.”

“Yes, eat it, eat it, every bite, please,” Keeley pleaded as Darren got onto his knees and plunged his face into her crotch.

He hungrily devoured the ice-cream, spreading it all over his face and working it down between her cunt lips. Keeley squirmed in the chair, gripping tightly onto its arms and gasping in ecstasy as Darren’s tongue licked its way all around her shaven mound and across her aching lips. He parted them to work his tongue into her, licking up every drop of the ice-cream, sauce and nut mixture as he went until he found what he was looking for; her aching clit. He massaged it with his tongue. It was an awesome sensation, the chill of the ice-cream the stickiness of the strawberry syrup and the occasional chopped nut pushed against her bud as Darren licked and sucked and nipped at her clit. It was too much for her and the whole sticky, sexy sensation sent her over the edge. Her hips bucked and twisted and she came with a loud scream of pleasure. She was beyond caring whether anybody on the street could hear her. Darren didn’t stop. Her continued to bury his mouth and tongue into her pussy and every exquisite lick and bite sent further waves of orgasm bucking through her.

It took her a while to recover her breath and composure. She sat panting in the chair savouring the sheer erotic delight of the full Italian gelato experience. But now it was his turn. She eased herself out of the chair and manoeuvred Darren down into it. His cock stood up, rigid and hard. It looked gorgeous and she was going to give him an ice-cream experience he’d never had before.

“You’ve been a good boy,” she smiled, “so I think I’m going to treat you.” She picked a metal scoop up and cast her eyes across the coloured mounds of ice-cream, “Hmm, what flavour? I know just the thing, the classic Italian ice-cream, pistachio.”

She plunged the scoop into the pastel green mound of ice-cream covered with chopped nuts. She held the scoop over his crotch and looked him in the eye with a wicked gaze and then released the scoop of ice-cream onto his cock. He gasped and wriggled in the chair, gripping tightly onto the arms just as she had done.

“Hmm, I think we’ll have some whipped cream on that,” she said and squirted oodles of cream from an aerosol can, “and some chocolate sauce,” as she squeezed a stream of syrupy brown sauce onto the ice-cream. “Oh, and some hundreds and thousands to decorate.” She took a handful of the multi-coloured sugar strands and sprinkled them over the ice-cream and chocolate sauce.

Darren looked to be in ecstasy as he looked down on his erect cock smothered in the combination of ice-cream, cream, chocolate sauce and sugar strands.

“Oh dear sir, I don’t think I can leave you like that.”

Keeley got onto her knees and plunged her mouth over the whole creamy chocolatey mess on the end of his cock and buried the hard shaft and its trimmings. She licked and sucked like she’d never done before, thrusting her lips up and down his shaft. He gripped the back of Keeley’s head and she pumped vigorously up and down, groaning in ecstasy.

“Oh that’s magic Key, that’s amazing. I can’t hold back any longer....”

Keeley didn’t care. She had the cold creamy, chocolatey mixture in her mouth, why not add a wad of thick spunk to it as well. She bobbed up and down faster and faster until with a loud groan he came into her mouth. For Keeley it felt wonderful, the salty thick spunk mingling with the sweet mixture that was already there. She carried on sucking and licking to squeeze every drop of cum out of Darren’s cock and licked every morsel of the ice-cream sundae mixture off his penis to his ecstatic moans.

They looked into each other’s eyes with an exhausted and satisfied gaze of lust and sexual gratification. That was something else. Darren was well and truly forgiven for his choice of weekend destination and it just went to show you could get extremes of sexual pleasure from any place with a bit of imagination.

It was then they heard a bump and some movement behind the door.

“Shit,” she whispered, “there’s somebody there.”

The door opened and a well-dressed elderly Italian man stood silhouetted in its frame.

By then Keeley had time to hastily pull on her dress but hadn’t done the zip up fully so her tits were practically hanging out. Darren had got his shorts on and his shirt but hadn’t had time to do up the buttons.

“Oh, we’re terribly sorry; we appear to have got left behind on the last tour and got locked in. We’re very sorry. We didn’t know what to do,” Darren mumbled in extreme embarrassment.

Keeley chuckled. He really did look and sound like a ten year old boy who had got caught doing something naughty. At first Keeley thought they were in big trouble but as the man advanced she caught the knowing and amused glint in his eye. Her bikini top and bottom were still tossed haphazardly on the floor and her face, well, that was still smothered with traces of pistachio ice-cream, cream and chocolate sauce.

“Hey, you a-young-a people of today,” he laughed, “you bring-a back some happy memories for me. But young lady, you betta put some knickers on and clean-a yourself up because if you go out like that, you’ll get-a yourself arrested!”

They headed to the wash room with guilty but satisfied smiles across their faces. As Keeley walked past she turned to him with a broad grin across her face, “Can I just say Mr Danatoni...you make damned fine ice-cream!”