"Have you ever done this before?" Kasteil asked, voice low and rough, the words vibrating through the quiet kitchen.
"Yes," I replied, barely above a whisper. I had his cock in my hands. I held it carefully so I wasn't touching the ice cream smeared along the thick length—cold caramel and chocolate slowly melting against hot skin, dripping in slow, sticky trails.
My fingers wrapped around the base, gentle but firm, feeling the heavy pulse beneath the velvety skin. He was already hard—thicker than I remembered, veins standing out under the thin sheen of cream. The contrast was obscene, the cold sweetness against his flushed heat, the way the ice cream clung and slid with every small twitch. My mouth watered.
