🌶️ Sue’s After Dark Diaries: Ep36

Easter Eggs and Very Poor Focus

A Perfectly Sensible Treat Night (That Immediately Wasn’t)

I had every intention of behaving like a responsible adult.

That was the plan.

A quiet night in, a couple of Easter eggs, a glass of wine – maybe two – and an early night that suggested I had finally reached the stage in life where moderation was not just a concept, but something I could realistically achieve without adult supervision.

I even said it out loud in the shop.

“Just a little treat,” I told myself, placing one Easter egg into the basket.

Then, naturally, I added another.

For balance.

And then a third, because it felt irresponsible to limit myself when there were clearly options that required careful consideration. It wasn’t excessive. It was curated.

By the time I got home, I had what can only be described as a situation.

Foil.

Boxes.

Decisions.

No structure.

Benji watched from the sofa with the expression of a dog who had seen this exact pattern before and already knew how it ended. He tilted his head, gave me the slow blink of judgment, and let out a tiny, disappointed huff.

“You can’t have chocolate,” I told him.

He stared at me like I had personally betrayed the Geneva Convention.

Fair.

I poured a very generous glass of wine, settled onto the sofa, and unwrapped the first egg with the calm confidence of someone who genuinely believed this was going to remain a controlled and entirely reasonable evening.

It was not.

Dan Starts Getting Ideas

The first few minutes were exactly as planned.

Chocolate.

Wine.

Peace.

Silence.

And then…

Dan hummed.

Not loudly.

Not aggressively.

Just… suggestively.

I paused mid-bite.

“No,” I said calmly. “Not tonight.”

Dan hummed again.

Slightly louder.

More confident.

I took a sip of wine and ignored him.

Another hum.

Longer this time.

Deliberate.

“You’re being a bit forward,” I muttered.

Dan did not care.

If anything, he leaned into it.

Buzz.

Subtle.

But very much there.

I glanced over at him.

Then back at my wine.

Then at the Easter egg.

Then back at Dan.

There was a pause.

A long, thoughtful pause.

“It has been a while,” I admitted quietly.

Dan hummed again.

Encouragingly.

Which felt unnecessary.

Benji lifted his head, gave Dan a long, suspicious side-eye, then looked at me as if to say, “You’re really going to do this with me in the room?”

Another sip of wine.

Another piece of chocolate.

Another hum.

“Well,” I said, standing up slowly, “this escalated.”

A Change of Scene (And Intentions)

Five minutes later, I was in bed.

Wine on the bedside table.

Easter eggs within easy reach.

Dan is now fully involved.

“Right,” I said, settling back against the pillows. “Let’s not make a big thing of this.”

Dan immediately made it a big thing.

He started on a low, steady buzz… warm, confident, and far too good at his job. I let him press against me, the vibrations travelling through my clit in slow, teasing waves. My breath hitched. I reached down, adjusting the angle until he was exactly where I needed him.

“Oh,” I murmured. “We’re going in strong tonight.”

I took another sip of wine, then broke off another piece of chocolate, letting it melt slowly on my tongue while Dan worked. The combination was ridiculous and perfect… rich cocoa, tart wine, and that relentless, delicious hum between my legs.

My free hand roamed over my breasts, teasing my nipples until they tightened. My hips started rocking gently against Dan, chasing the building pressure. The sensations layered beautifully… sweet, warm, buzzing, wet.

Benji jumped onto the end of the bed, sat down, and stared at us with the expression of a tiny therapist who had already written “poor life choices” in his notes.

The Mind Wanders (Of Course It Does)

Somewhere between the wine, the chocolate, and Dan’s increasingly confident contribution, my brain decided to get involved.

Which was unnecessary.

I was perfectly capable of managing the situation without additional input.

And yet…

Off it went.

One moment, I was in bed with wine and chocolate.

The next time I wasn’t.

I blinked.

“Oh no,” I said. “We’re not doing this.”

We were doing this.

Because suddenly, I was standing in a luxurious chocolate atelier.

Warm golden lighting.

Endless dark wood shelves.

The rich, heady scent of cocoa in the air.

Of course, my fantasy had gone full chocolatier.

Two men appeared.

Tall.

Composed.

Dressed in crisp black shirts with sleeves rolled up, forearms looking like they spent their days tempering chocolate and ruining lives.

The first one stepped closer, voice low and smooth.

“Would you like to taste?”

“I don’t trust you,” I replied instantly.

He smiled anyway.

The second one moved behind me, fingers brushing lightly down my arms.

“Let it melt slowly,” he murmured against my ear.

Back in reality, Dan kicked up a notch… deeper, more insistent. I gasped, hips rolling harder against him as the fantasy and the vibrations merged.

In the atelier, the first chocolatier leaned in and ran a thumb across my lower lip, slipping a piece of warm, melted chocolate into my mouth. The second one’s hands slid down my sides, pulling me back against him while the first dropped to his knees in front of me.

I moaned, both in the fantasy and out loud in my bed.

Dan was relentless now, buzzing perfectly against my swollen clit while my fingers worked in tight circles. The pressure built fast, hot and heavy, thighs trembling.

The fantasy intensified. One chocolatier’s mouth between my legs, tongue slow and deliberate, while the other kissed my neck, hands cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples.

I was so close.

Buzzing.

Melting.

Whimpering.

Benji had now moved to the pillow beside my head. He stared down at me with the most judgmental look a dog has ever managed, as if he were mentally drafting a strongly worded letter to social services.

There had to be TWO

Two men appeared.

Tall.

Composed.

Dressed in crisp black shirts with sleeves rolled up, forearms looking like they spent their days tempering chocolate and ruining lives.

The first one stepped closer, voice low and smooth.

“Would you like to taste?”

“I don’t trust you,” I replied instantly.

He smiled anyway.

The second one moved behind me, fingers brushing lightly down my arms.

“Let it melt slowly,” he murmured against my ear.

Back in reality, Dan kicked up a notch… deeper, more insistent. I gasped, hips rolling harder against him as the fantasy and the vibrations merged.

In the atelier, the first chocolatier leaned in and ran a thumb across my lower lip, slipping a piece of warm, melted chocolate into my mouth. The second one’s hands slid down my sides, pulling me back against him while the first dropped to his knees in front of me.

I moaned, both in the fantasy and out loud in my bed.

Dan was relentless now, buzzing perfectly against my swollen clit while my fingers worked in tight circles. The pressure built fast, hot and heavy, thighs trembling.

The fantasy intensified. One chocolatier’s mouth between my legs, tongue slow and deliberate, while the other kissed my neck, hands cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples.

I was so close.

Buzzing.

Melting.

Whimpering.

Benji had now moved to the pillow beside my head. He stared down at me with the most judgmental look a dog has ever managed, as if he were mentally drafting a strongly worded letter to social services.

Sharon Arrives (And Immediately Makes It Worse)

Outside, Sharon arrived like a one-woman emergency service.

She knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Then louder.

“Sue? You in there? I brought those fancy hot cross buns you like!”

Inside, I was far too busy.

Dan was at full speed.

My hips were rocking frantically.

The fantasy had both chocolatiers devouring me… one with his mouth between my thighs, the other kissing me deeply while his hands roamed everywhere.

I was right on the edge.

The Police Arrive 

I lay there panting, chest heaving, chocolate smeared on my fingers, wine glass dangerously close to tipping over, when the banging on the door became official.

BANG BANG BANG.

“Police! Open up!”

I froze.

“…you have got to be joking.”

I pulled on my robe, tied it like it was a life vest, and opened the door.

Two officers stood there looking extremely professional and slightly concerned.

Behind them, Sharon was waving like she had just solved a murder.

“She’s alive!” Sharon announced triumphantly.

“Yes, I can see that,” the older officer said calmly.

I folded my arms, trying to look dignified while still slightly post-orgasm and covered in chocolate.

“What exactly did you tell them?” I asked Sharon.

Sharon hesitated.

“…there was continuous buzzing.”

The younger officer blinked.

“Continuous buzzing,” he repeated slowly.

“Yes,” Sharon said, nodding vigorously. “Very continuous. And she wasn’t answering the door. I was worried it was some kind of… appliance malfunction. Or a medical thing. Or both.”

The officers looked at me.

I looked at them.

Benji appeared at my feet, holding one of Mark’s old boxers from a previous escapade like a victory flag, tail wagging proudly.

The older officer cleared his throat.

“Ma’am… is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” I said. “Just… Easter-related activities.”

The younger officer’s eyes flicked to the bedroom behind me, where Dan was still faintly humming on the bedside table like he was trying to be helpful.

He looked back at me.

“Right,” he said.

Sharon leaned in. “Is that the buzzing? It’s still going!”

I closed my eyes for half a second.

The older officer sighed the sigh of a man who had seen many things and wanted to see fewer.

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to confirm there’s no one else in the property and that you’re not in any distress.”

“I’m not in distress,” I said. “I’m in recovery.”

Sharon gasped. “Recovery from what?!”

The officers looked at each other.

The younger one muttered, “I’m writing this up as a welfare check.”

They left.

Sharon stayed.

She looked at me, then at Dan, then back at me.

“You absolute legend,” she whispered.

“Get out,” I replied.

Aftermath, Reflection, and Absolutely No Lessons Learned

Eventually, the flat settled.

Benji returned to the bed, still clutching his boxer trophy, and curled up beside me with a contented huff.

I picked up another piece of Easter egg.

“Well,” I said to the empty room. “That escalated.”

I glanced at Dan.

“Some things don’t need explaining.”

Pause.

“They just work.”

Dan hummed once… soft, satisfied, efficient.

Benji gave me one last long, judgmental side-eye, then went back to chewing his trophy like it was the finest thing he had ever stolen.

I took another sip of wine.

Smiled.

And thought, not for the first time, that responsible adulting is vastly overrated.

Prepared.

Petty.

Properly moisturised.

Still in possession of three Easter eggs and zero regrets.

Oakfield Close survived.

Barely.

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