I used to play this game with my second wife. It was called, guess the fruit. We did it in the morning, that way, we had breakfast and ***. Succulent and sensual.
She would lie naked on the bed-blindfolded. I put a Miles Davis CD on, then went to the kitchen, and roughly chopped various types of fruit: Peaches, Pears, and Pomegranate. Avocados were too messy. I would grab a handful of various types of berries, and assemble them all on a plate.
By the time I got back to the bedroom, she was squirming around, and squealing like a squeaky toy. I'd take a piece of fruit and lightly rub it on her neck, she would yell, "Banana" "Nope," Id' say. I would dart it across her lips, and work it down her neck... ease it across her pink left ******.
She coos, "Peaches." "No baby, but you are close." I would make light stabs down her belly to the top of her golden mound. By this time she would softly moan. "Fuckkkk...Blackberry." "Yes! You got it." Then I would pop it in my mouth, savoring the juice and the sweetness.
The game would continue back and forth until we finished the fruit. By that time, we were more than ready to make love. We went at it like dogs in heat. the sweat and fruit juice mingling on our bodies, illuminated by the morning sun, breaking sad through the window.
I am single now, and poor. I can't afford fruit. And even if I had a woman, it would be hard to play, guess the Mickey D's dollar menu item.