Chris Evans Whip Cream Novels & Stories

He shoots me a wink. “Did you need some coffee?” I ask him. And he shakes his head ‘no’ slowly. “I already got him a cup,” Savannah says, trying to pull his eyes from me. He just grins, taking another sip. “You know what this is missing?” He asks and I quirk a brown in question. “Whipped cream?” I offer, and he nods. “Whipped cream.” He reiterates. “Well, I would have put some on it, but it seems we are out.” I saunter over to him and reach out, gently pulling my mug, still with his hand wrapped around it, to my mouth and take a cautious sip.

Ava’s lips curved. Oh, she was not finished. With lightning swiftness, she reached behind her, scooped up a generous dollop of whipped cream from the cake’s edge— —and smeared it squarely across his right cheek. A collective gasp rippled across the terrace. The white cream clung to his sharp jawline like a crooked Santa Claus beard.

He popped the cap off the whipped cream and tested a small burst on his finger, licking it off slowly while keeping his eyes locked on mine. "I'm going to make myself an early morning snack."

Veronica watched, her eyes widening as he sprayed a very heavy dose of whipped cream on his second slice of pie. "That much, huh?" "Oh yeah," he said, putting the can down and digging his fork into the pie. "Everything tastes better covered in whipped cream." There was something so sinfully wicked about his smile just before he stuck the forkful in his mouth. It made her squirm in her chair, and she had to turn away. Then she heard him chuckle, adding annoyance to the list of emotions she gone through just today. He was enjoying this, but if this is who he was, then she'd have to get used to it, so she decided two could play this game. Friends could be playful, right?

“Still. You went to war for me.” “I’d do it again. Ten times.” He nods. “I know.” We don’t hug—never have. But he flicks a hospital Jello cup at me with a smirk. I dodge, barely. We both burst out laughing like kids in detention. “By the way,” Chris says, “Evelyn stopped by last week. Brought muffins. Still the best damn baker in the city.” “Don’t I know it.” “She seemed… different. But not in a bad way.”

It looked just like any other on the street which didn't make it look so convincing. “Don't let the low aesthetics fool you, he's just lazy on decoration but his stuff is the best," Evan said, as he could already read my thoughts. "He makes both gelatos and Ice creams all in bowls, not those stupid cups. According to him, you are either eating it big or not.” I gave Evan a slight nod, not wanting to act rude or anything. Evan knocked on the door, and in less than a minute it opened. “Evan!” A hefty-looking man called out excitedly, and enveloped Evan in a beat hug, almost lifting him off the ground. Their interaction was so personal I found myself unconsciously moving to the side so I didn't

“You.” I knew that was the answer, I’m not stupid. But hearing him say it makes it even hotter. He leans forward, capturing my mouth in a sweet, passionate kiss. Just as I move to wrap my arms around him, I feel something cold on my left nipple. I pull back, squealing and find that he’s squirted some of the whipped cream on me. He grins mischievously at me before swooping down to lick the cream off of my tit. The flat of his tongue swirls around my nipple, flicking out several times to clean off the cream. I’m a panting mess by the time he’s finished.

She giggled, "A TTF...Team Titty Fuck, served with some man butter...maybe?" She handed me the whip cream and Pete laid the chaise lounge flat; Jo laid back, while I formed little pillows over each of her nipples. Pete pulled her legs open, hanging them off the chair, "Dude, we need some down here, too." He spread her open with his fingers, while I traced the lips with whip cream. We eagerly licked her tits clean and took turns with her pussy. "Baby girl, you make a mean dessert," I grinned, "but you could be a main course, too."

Her brows squinted in confusion and she tilted her neck slightly, just to catch a glimpse of him. His eyes were still fixed on his phone screen, and she shook her head lightly. She had heard of several toppings for pancakes; fruits, sauce, ketchup. But not once had she ever seen someone use whipped cream. Did she really need to be surprised? The man was accustomed to demanding and doing the weirdest of things after all. Maybe he ate his pancakes with whipped cream? Who knows? Taking the can of whipped cream and placing it on the tray, beside his plate just like he’d ordered, she then carried the tray and walked out of the kitchen.

He turned to the teenager, who was looking down at the screen embarrassed, “Did you note down what he wanted?” The teenage boy nodded his head. “How many scoops and do you want them in waffle cones or cups?” “Cups, two scoops of each please,” Chris said with a sigh and paid. The ice-cream cups were put in a carton and Chris made his way back to the car. His heart squeezed as the sound of Rayland’s sniffles entered his ears. When Rayland heard footsteps come closer, he wiped away his tears and turned to look at him. Chris placed the carton of ice-cream on the roof of his car and pulled Rayland in for a hug.