Category Archives: Prose

White chocolate: a ghost story

If someone says to you, “Life is like a box of chocolates,” you should know that to be nonsense, at least in one sense – it it says right there on or in the box exactly what you’re going to get. In another sense, however, it’s quite right – some of your selections will be good; others will be garbage, particularly anything made with white chocolate.

The phone rings. I answer it.

“Cacao! Cacao!” pins into my ear like the call of a deranged bird. “Cacao!”

“Yes,” I reply and hang up.

I am reminded: “Quoth the raven. ‘Nevermore.’”

White chocolate is an abomination. It pretends to be something it’s not. It lacks the richness and, yes, the bitterness, of true chocolate, though it contains a trace of its heritage. In its permanent segregation from the darkness of the cacao bean, it is the culinary equivalent of Apartheid.

The phone rings. I answer it.

“Cacao! Cacao!” again.

I reply, “The darker the cherry, the sweeter the juice.”


Many people you meet in your life will be white chocolate – best avoided no matter who the manufacturer is, no matter how attractive the packaging may be. You will be unsatisfied. Real chocolate commands your respect, though sometimes it will make you say:

“I will devour you gluttonously.”

The phone still pressed to my ear, I hold the chocolate to my lips and breathe in deeply. 

“Cacao,” I say into the phone. I hear a faint laugh before the connection is broken, and in the darkness I can hear her smile.



I throw you down on the bed face first and whip your dress up, exposing your naked arse. “Dirty bitch,” I say and smack it hard. I pull you up onto your knees and smack your arse again before spreading your cheeks and burying my face between them. Growling like a dog I hungrily devour your cunt, my tongue deep within you, my nose pressed against your arsehole.

Pulling my face back, I inhale deeply, my chin wet and shining. I free my throbbing cock from my jeans and rub the end of it against your pussy, parting your lips. You push your hips back to meet me as I enter you, both of us moaning with pleasure. I pause for a moment to savour the hot wetness before slowly moving out and back in. I grab a handful of your hair and pull your head back, thrusting harder inside you, my thighs slapping against yours. You reach between your legs with one hand and start rubbing your clit.

I stop my movements and lean down against your back. Turning your head to one side, I kiss you hard as you stroke my balls with your nails. I release your lips and sink my teeth into your shoulder as I starting moving inside you again.

“Harder,” you groan. “Fuck me harder!” I remove my mouth and raise myself back up. Both hands firmly gripping your hips, I oblige you. I have to pull you back to stop you from sliding away from me. The room is filled with the sounds of our bodies slapping, the rocking bed, our panting and groaning.

You start to tremble and I can feel myself ready to explode. With one last series of thrusts I release myself inside you. “Fuck! Ing! God!” I cry as I feel you cum too. My head droops and drops of sweat fall from it onto your back. Our bodies quiver with aftershocks as we catch our breath. I withdraw my twitching cock and replace it with my mouth, lapping up my cum as it drips from your swollen cunt.

“You dirty fucker”, you say as you roll onto your back and pull my mouth to yours, tasting the mixture of your sweetness and my saltiness. We pull back, look each other in the eye and smile.

“So, what time was the movie again?” you ask.

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