Fresh strawberry

She straddles his chest and drips the cream straight from the can onto her bare nipples. Each dollop melts against her warm skin. He watches it slide down the curve of her breast before leaning up and licking it away. She tastes like cold sugar. Strawberries follow, smashed between their mouths as they kiss. Juice runs down her chin. She reaches back, fingers closing around him, guiding him inside with one slick push. The rhythm builds slow. Her thighs tighten around his hips while he grips her waist and pushes deeper. Every thrust sends another drop of cream or berry pulp falling onto their stomachs. She moans into his mouth, bites his lip, tastes the sweet mess they’ve made. Her clit presses hard against him with every roll of her hips. When she comes, she shudders hard enough to make the bed creak, cream-slick hands clutching his shoulders as she pulses around him. He follows seconds later, heat spilling inside her while half-crushed strawberries stick to their skin. They stay locked together, breathing hard, the scent of fruit and sex thick in the air.