“Two 99s please, with raspberry sauce.”

I could feel the fresh semen running down my face. A string of it hung off my chin before dripping onto the bikini-clad bulge of my right tit.

The ice-cream-van lad’s eyes were on stalks.

“Erm, yes, sure, love,” he stammered.

He kept looking at me as he prepared the ice-creams. I smiled and stuck out my tongue, catching a dollop of semen as it dangled off the tip of my nose.

“I’ve given you extra sauce, love,” he said as he handed them over, “though you seem to have got plenty already.”