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everywhere. At first, he thanked—he praised—the chocolates, but then decided to give credit where credit was due: to his wife, to his best friends. It wasn’t until Mary sat up, her face relaxed and nipples still hard, her breath ragged as she watched her husband fuck Curt and Curt fuck his wife, and it wasn’t until Dylan pulled his fingers straight from Curt’s asshole and then gave his butt cheeks a good, hard slap, that Curt pulled his cock out of Ellen’s pussy, heard Ellen’s softly chanted encouragement of “yeah, baby,” and blew his load all over his wife, from her tits to her stomach, without even needing to hold his cock.
    “You magnificent bastard,” Dylan said as Curt’s thighs grew shaky, exhausted from their work. “You magnificent bastard.”
    Curt collapsed to the bed next to Ellen, his wife closest to Dylan and Mary, with Mary exploring Dylan’s body again, rubbing his thighs while she kissed his growing cock beneath that dildo. Soon, Dylan held the massive dildo flat against his stomach so that Mary could take as much of him as she wanted into her mouth.
    Curt spooned Ellen, wrapping and arm around her.
    “Curt,” Ellen said, “I need a tissue. Or some tissues.”
    “Oh, right,” Curt said, rolling back on the bed to get to his feet, noticing then his come in the hair on his forearm. The tissue box was on Mary’s chest of drawers. He grabbed one, then changed his mind, grabbing three more.
    Ellen reclined on her elbows while Curt dabbed and wiped his come from her body. “Good boy,” she said. “You’re a good birthday boy.”
    Curt smiled, dropping the balled-up tissues to the floor and taking his spot next to his wife again. He pulled her down to the mattress, down into his arms.
     

Chocolate Covered
    F. Leonora Solomon
     
    Lotte had started her temp assignment at the Acme Confection Company to replace a temp who had left to pursue acting. Acme had a tendency to work with attractive, creative types and provide them with flexible assignments. Maybe that explained the detachment with which some of the employees treated her. She didn’t mind so much—it allowed her to work on her freelance writing while she was there.
    She had had a cushy writing job at Candy magazine, but they had recently relegated her to a freelancer and the pay was no longer enough for her to live on. When her friend Sherilyn told her about her temp agency, hoping they would end up working together, Lotte was all for it.
    Dressed in a red velvet bow skirt and crisp white blouse that showed off her curves dangerously, she went in for the interview. It had gone well, and they had work for her that day. She was amused at the thought of working at a candy company, while still writing for Candy.
    Her assignment was to be the receptionist and administrative assistant to Rupert Back, an Acme executive whose assistant had left. Lotte had no questions about why. Even though he was stunningly good-looking, he was demanding and unrelenting. He called her into his office on her second day to complain that she had not watered his plants—which he had not asked her to do.
    “A good admin should be intuitive. I should not even have to tell you what I need. You should just know,” he said, holding his fingers to his temples. He had particularly lovely hands, she had noted, as she followed the pattern of his veins. She couldn’t help noticing that he was not wearing a ring.
    Lotte had pressed the edges of her sugar-plum–colored nails inside her palms and silently nodded, because she did not know what to say now that he expected her to be clairvoyant.
    Other than that, she liked the flexibility of the job, and that it was a candy company. There were mandatory samples of candy at her desk for the visitors. She was given a key to the appropriately named goodie closet, so that she could replenish the candy supply that ran low all day long. Acme was very proactive about giving out samples—except of their new notoriously