Chocolate Poems Mga Nobela at Kwento

He brandished the thing that seemed to look like a chocolate bar in front of my face. I gave him a deadpanned look. 'Seriously, a chocolate bar? Death by cavities?' He was out of his marbles. What on earth could a chocolate do? He smirked. 'Look closely. It's not an ordinary chocolate.' I peered closely at the packaging. 'Chocolax.' I said. He nodded. 'It's a laxative in a form of a chocolate. Pretty much popular for girls who wanted to lose weight without feeling the guilt.' Now I'm confused. What was he planning about to do with the laxative? I frowned. 'Your point being?' I asked.

, he says as the cake reaches toward them. The cake is as delightful to the senses as it is to the palette. At its heart lies a sumptuous chocolate core, a rich and indulgent surprise hidden within. This chocolate inside is like a secret treasure, waiting to be discovered by those who delve into the cake's layers. The exterior of the cake is a canvas of the softest pink frosting, a hue that whispers of gentle affections and joyous celebrations. It’s not just a color but an emotion, one that evokes the tender bloom of a spring rose under the morning sun.

It was rich, it was romantic and very well slightly slutty. I melted the chocolate over a double boiler, the scent of cocoa swirling around the kitchen like edible perfume. The milk simmered gently, and I stirred, humming under my breath while my phone—mounted on my tripod—captured every moment for the videos I would upload on our I*******m. “Step one,” I said softly to the camera, “don’t burn your chocolate. That’s a sin in six languages.” I was carefully whisking cream into the bowl when a familiar voice murmured, “What are you doing?”

Silence settled over them as Camden felt for the chocolate bar in her pocket, crinkling the wrapper. It was empty. She must have finished it and not realized it, she thought with disappointment. "What was that?" Clayton asked, the noise sounding out of place. "Chocolate wrapper," she declared, not feeling it necessary to show him the evidence. He scoffed, "Of course it is," he whispered as she wrapped her arm around him once more.

After the interrogation that day, fuck had a grown woman like me craving, but since there was no cock around and no vibrator, I had to use my fingers to oh yeah that's the spot. When I was done with the masturbation, just then on my phone, a notification beeped in on my Facebook. It didn't seem like me receiving my porn, instead, it was a poem from someone with no profile picture or picture on his wall. His username says Mr Romantic and his poem read, I can never look at a drop of dew in a buttercup without beholding shafts of love in the retreats of your eyes In you there is unity; your face and form is a blend of perfect line and contour

"Is he courting you or what?" "I don't really know about his intentions on me." She was about to bite the chocolate when I stopped her. " Why?" she asked disappointedly. " I think you shouldn't leisurely eat those. We don't know where it from. Maybe it's poisonous." I stated. "It hasn't been opened yet so how can they put poison on it?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "I don't know. People got some lots of techniques to harm people nowadays. It's not impossible."

But sometimes it feels like we are caught in a loop trying just to compensate for all those days of sexual frustration. I wish I had more self-control. And It makes me feel sad that my irresistible urge towards Christopher has kept me away from confessing my true feelings to him. But I can't keep things going like this forever. I need to speak to him. So, to put a break to this chain I got home early and planned this surprise dinner. And what can be more amazing than to confess your love over a plate of cream-cheese brownies? I pull back my gaze from the brownies, fighting the urge to not gulp them all together in one go. I don't know why my craving hasn't still subsided even after finishing

Let me tell you, people. Food is life...let me not even get started on chocolate. I believe that chocolate is a gift sent to women by God. There's absolutely nothing like it in this world and I am addicted to it. With these food-filled thoughts rushing in my brain I made my way to the kitchen where I found a very silent Christina. Christina being quiet is like asking for rain in the Sahara desert it rarely happens and you never know when to expect it. She's always so lively and full of life so seeing her like this is very depressing.

Plates gleamed under the lights, and the faint hum of conversation faded into the background. What truly captured his attention was the chocolate fountain. White chocolate flowed endlessly, thick and glossy, cascading down in smooth ribbons that caught the light. The sight alone was hypnotic, and Yang Jun found himself standing there longer than necessary, watching it spill over itself again and again. It was indulgent in a way his life had not been for months.

By that time I reached the middle of the living room and sat on the floor pulling my legs to my chest and leaning a little. She is doing an amazing job. Then the lights are switched on again and as usual with the music. I staretd to begin my performance. "chocolate, lime juice, ice cream, toffeeyaan" Chocolate, lime juice, ice cream, toffees pahale jaise ab mere shauq hain kahaan That was before; where do my yearnings lie now? guDiya khilaune merii saheliyaan Dolls, toys, my friends: