Chuck Tingle
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That Sentient Ice Cream Sandwich Is Looking Like A Snack Because She Is Literally A Snack - (Classic Tingler Revisited)
🕑 Added 2023-02-11 15:52:02 +0000 UTCyesterday THAT SENTIENT ICE CREAM SANDWICH IS LOOKING LIKE A SNACK BECAUSE SHE IS LITERALLY A SNACK trotted out as audiobook so you know what that means buckaroos time to revisit a classic tingler on the patreon trot.
this is a story about importance in being direct. now i will say flirting in subtle way can be fun for buckaroos too i do not mean to knock this AGE OLD PRACTICE but also there is something to be said for speaking up with a 'hey bud this is how i feel, how do you feel?'
just heckin think about all the romantic comedies that could be solved if someone just explained themselves in the first dang scene.
but this trot extends to more than just romance. seems like buckaroos of all ways can find themselves feeling like they dont want to take up space on this timeline. it is easy to let this reality float on by and think 'i dont need to insert my trot into this'. sometimes you dont that is true and theres a certain RELAXATION that comes with floatin down the river of time in your handsome innertube just sippin on chocolate milk.
but if you WANT to be a part of this reality then DANG bud this reality would only be better for it. every choice you make, every button you push, every string you pull will create infinite new worlds and that is a beautiful power to PROVE LOVE IS REAL in the palm of your hands. do not be afraid to take up a little space and USE IT bud
When Alison is forced to move across the country for a new job at Tingle Industries, she finds herself in a complicated situation. On one hand, she’s able to buy her first house, something that Alison never would’ve dreamed possible. The unfortunate drawback is that she’s never seen the place in person.
Alison is pleasantly surprised until she discovers the deck is collapsing and in serious need of repair. She calls a general contractor and is greeted by a beautiful sentient ice cream sandwich named Corba, who will repair the deck for an unusually cheap price.
As the day wears on, Corba begins to melt in the heat, and uses this to her seductive advantage. But is the lesbian frozen treat really flirting, or is this just the natural process of a sexy sentient dessert under the sun?
This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling human on lesbian ice cream sandwich action (the kind with two chocolate chip cookies and a scoop of vanilla in the middle, not the other kind) and hardcore sentient snack love.
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THAT SENTIENT ICE CREAM SANDWICH IS LOOKING LIKE A SNACK BECAUSE SHE IS LITERALLY A SNACK
By Chuck Tingle
It’s scary moving to a new city for your job, and even more frightening when you’ve locked down a house without ever seeing it in person. Sure, there were plenty of photos passed back and forth online, as well as a virtual tour that was quite impressive, but without actually walking through the space on my own two feet, it feels like jumping off a cliff.
Over the course of my drive across the country in a fully packed trailer I found my mind wandering, dancing through the worst fears I could possibly muster about my new home. What if this whole thing had been some giant ruse? What if there was no house or job waiting for me on the other side of the country?
Of course, I know deep down that all of this fear is ridiculous. I’m striking out on my own, and that’s obviously going to cause a little tension, but it’s nothing to get all worked up about.
As I finally pull into the driveway, I can feel this anxiety slip away even more, replaced by a sense of satisfying relief. The front yard looks exactly like the pictures had made it out to be, a beautifully maintained garden with hedges and a large tree blossoming up over the driveway.
I park a take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I bask in this moment. I’d always dreamed about living in a house like this, but I don’t think I’d ever truly thought it was possible. It’s tough finding a job, especially in today’s economy, and with my limited background in business it seemed like this kind of thing would always remain just slightly out of reach.
That is, until I got a position at Tingle Industries. To tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure what they do there, but my friend forwarded me an application and I filled it out on a whim. I was surprised to find there were very few requirements in the realm of education or prior experience. Instead, the application seemed to be geared towards finding someone who was simply excited to “prove love is real.”
And now I’m here.
Eventually, I climb out of my truck and stroll up the front walk. I open up the mailbox and pull forth a set of keys that the realtor had left for me, then continue onward to the front door.
The door swings open and I stand here in the entryway for a moment, gazing around this completely barren living room. I get an immediate vision of all the places my furniture could go once it’s unpacked, the various combinations that will soon make up my living quarters.
I continue onward as the sweet relief continues, making my way through all these rooms and appreciating the fact they’re just like I expected.
Truth be told, however, I’m mostexcited to see the backyard deck. This is the one thing that wasn’t available on my virtual tour, and it’s part of what was so exciting about this place to begin with: the view.
I continue onward, making my way into the kitchen and then towards a sliding glass door. I pull it open and glance down at my feet, stopping abruptly not just in utter surprise but out of fear for my life.
Unlike the rest of this home, which has been immaculately cleaned and cared for, the back deck is an utter abomination. The wooden structure is barely standing, literally swaying in the breeze as it rocks from side to side. A long, low creaking sound fills the air as I stare down through several holes at the backyard below.
“Uhhh… what?” is all I can think to say, just speaking the word aloud to myself as though it could offer some kind of cosmic explanation.
I consider calling my realtor, but then stop myself. I already know what’s going to be said, that after signing all those papers I’m stuck with what I’ve got. Buying a home without actually seeing it was always going to be a risk, and I knew this going into it.
It looks like my next move is getting this deck repaired, but it’s a cost that I’m just gonna have to eat. If I could do that labor myself, I would, especially since there’s still a month before my first day at the office and I’ve got plenty of time to kill, but repairing a second story deck is simply not within my skillset.
I’ll have to hire a contractor.
Fortunately, it’s still the early afternoon, and if I get to work I can probably have someone here taking care of this by the end of the day.
I sit down on the floor of my completely empty apartment, then pull my phone out of my pocket and begin my search. I sift through a few general contractor options and then finally call one with glowing reviews that happens to be located nearby.
“Hello, this is Corba Construction, how can I help you?” comes a strangely sultry voice on the other end of the line.
“Hi,” I stammer, struggling to collect my senses. “I’ve got a problem with my deck.”
“What’s the problem?” the voice continues.
I glance out through the glass door next to me and take in the horrifying construction work, making note of all the various holes and splintering beams. “I don’t really know where to start,” I offer. “I think I just need to replace the whole thing.”
“Wood?” the voice question.
“Yeah,” I reply.
“I can come over and take a look at it this afternoon and give you a quote,” they inform me. “Does that work for you?”
“Perfect,” I reply, then pass along my address and hang up the phone.
I spent the next few hours loading stuff into the house, starting with the smaller boxes and then eventually moving on to the larger furniture that I probably shouldn’t even be attempting to lift on my own. Somehow I manage, however, and eventually I find myself with a nice little setup in the living room and some utensils put neatly away in the kitchen.
Unfortunately, today is particularly hot, and the extreme temperature is starting to get to me. I’m thankful for the air conditioning in my new home, but every time I head outside to carry in a new item it feels as though I’m strolling along under a giant heat lamp.
I’m reluctantly venturing out to get another box when I notice a figure standing in the front doorway, the visitor rapping their fingers three times on the doorframe.
“Hello!” they call out. “I’m the contractor. I’m here to check out your deck.”
“Hi!” I reply, making my way towards them and extending my hand. “I’m Alison.”
I suddenly fumble a bit, my breath catching in my throat in a similar way to the first time I’d heard her voice over the phone. The figure before me is an utterly gorgeous ice cream sandwich, large and circular. She is constructed with two perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies on either side, with an enormous glob of frozen vanilla ice cream stuffed into the middle.
“Corba,” the beautiful dessert informs me, giving me a firm and confident handshake.
“You got here quick,” I reply.
The ice cream sandwich smiles knowingly. “I live down the street,” she informs me. “I built the house myself.”
“Oh, wow,” I retort, impressed. “Must’ve been a big job.”
The beautiful dessert shrugs. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Now, let’s see this deck.”
“Come on in,” I continue, stepping out of the way and motioning for her to come inside.
The ice cream sandwich floats past me, already getting to work as her eyes scan her surroundings. I have to say, I’m incredibly impressed by the way she takes charge of this situation. The sugary snack is overflowing with confidence, and it’s hard not to find that attractive. Of course, it doesn’t help that she’s crafted to perfection, a perfectly sculpted frozen treat that I can’t seem to take my eyes off.
Corba continues onward until, eventually, she arrives at the back door, sliding it open and gazing out at the deck.
“This is… not good,” the ice cream sandwich observes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this. The whole thing is completely rotted out.”
My heart sinks as I hear her assessment. I knew this was going to be a lot of work, but it still felt like a problem with a simple solution. Now it sounds like this might actually be a situation with many hurtles, a journey that me and this beautiful dessert are simply not equipped for.
“You think it’s can’t be done?” I question.
Corba bursts out laughing. “It’s bad, but it’s not that bad. I’ll have you a new deck built in one week.”
Her self-assurance continues to amaze me. “Really?” I blurt. “How much?”
The beautiful ice cream sandwich takes a moment longer to make her bid, analyzing the situation in a way that’s quite impressive. I watch as she calculates the hours it will take to tear this all away and then replace the skeleton with a fresh structure of her own.
“Five thousand dollars,” Corba finally offers.
My eyes go wide. Surly there’s been some kind of miscommunication, because a large deck like this should probably cost four times that amount. I’m no expert, but something about this doesn’t seem right.
Of course, to receive an offer this low is a huge blessing, and I should probably just take the deal right then and there, but I can’t help myself.
“Only five thousand?” I question. “That seems a little… low. I got my whole first year in salary up front, so I can pay.”
Corba shakes her head from side to side and waves me away. “I like you,” she replies. “Think of it as a gift for moving into the neighborhood. Besides, I’ve been hoping for a new project to spend my time on this week.”
It all seems to good to be true, but I finally accept her offer. There’s a distinct twinkle in Corba’s eye as she says this, a flirtatious expression that can’t be easily dismissed. I get the feeling she’s telling the truth about her motivations, but there’s also something else at work here, something more primal. Could this beautiful ice cream sandwich be just as interested in me as I am in her.
The very thought of it seems crazy, but the more I let this idea simmer, the more it starts to make sense.
“I’ll head back to my place and get my tools,” the dessert informs me, strolling out through my living room with a newfound swing in her step. “I’ll see you in a bit. Don’t worry about letting me in, I’ll just head around to the back yard and get started.”
“Okay,” I reply, watching her go with dumbstruck arousal.
When the ice cream sandwich finally disappears out the front door I need a moment to collect myself, still reeling from our erotically tense encounter.
I eventually get back to work setting up the living room. Another van full of furniture is set to arrive tomorrow, along with a crew of movers who are equipped to carry all of the larger items, but in the meantime I’ve got plenty of things to organize.
I open up a nearby box and find that it’s full of books, mostly from my favorite author, Chuck Tingle. I begin to organize them on the completely barren bookshelf next to me, pulling them out and placing them in alphabetical order.
From here I can see through a window into the backyard, and after a good while of organizing, something catches my eye.
I gaze out to see that Corba has returned, the beautiful ice cream sandwich lying out on her back and hammering away at something just above her under one of the railings. This position is particularly sexy, and it’s hard for me to imagine that the gorgeous dessert doesn’t know this. She’s arching her back particularly far, posing suggestively as she continues to take care of business. Soon enough, Corba is rolling over onto all fours, then popping her ass out in an equally seductive movement.
I notice now that my mouth is literally hanging open and a single thread of drool is sneaking from the corner of my lips. I quickly reach up to wipe it away, but my eyes don’t avert.
I’m not trying to be creepy, and typically I’d muster up the willpower to pull myself away from something so tawdry, but in this very specific case it actually seems like Corba wants me to watch. The positions this beautiful ice cream sandwich is contorting herself into don’t seem to have anything to do with actually repairing the deck.
The longer I watch, the more aroused I get. Is she hoping I’ll come and say something? Is this her way of flirting?
I suppose there’s only one way to find out.
I stroll over to the deck door once again and slide it open, calling out to the ice cream sandwich. “How’s everything going over there?”
Corba turns to face me, wiping the sweat from her brow. “It’s good! Just getting started!”
A confused expression crosses my fact as I try my best to get a read on things. The ice cream sandwich’s position has completely changed, no longer a flagrant erotic display but instead a practical, performance-based stance.
My arousal must’ve gotten in the way of my perception. I shake my head from side to side, struggling to declutter my brain, then make my way back inside.
I’m suddenly flooded with all kinds of unfortunate emotions, realizing now that my gazing had actually been quite rude. From now on I’ll try my best to keep my eyes to myself.
I get back to work organizing the bookshelf, doing everything I can to not glance out the window. My mind is locked in on the task at hand, running through the alphabet over and over again as I place these colorful tomes into their rightful slots.
Eventually, however, I begin to notice some movement in my peripheral vision. My defenses are up, and my conscious brain is commanding my eyes to stay put, but eventually the temptation is just too much to bear.
I glance out the window again to see that Corba is staring right at me, licking her lips as she slowly drags a finger along her vanilla ice cream filling. She’s starting to melt in the heat, making it quite easy for the dessert to pull forth a huge globe of liquid cream and pull her tongue across it seductively.
“Oh,” is all that I can think to say, the word falling limply from my mouth.
Cobra winks at me.
Without another thought, I head back around to the deck door and throw it open.
“Hey,” I offer in a smooth, seductive tone.
The ice scream sandwich glances up from the nail she’s pounding, not a single pinch of the sexual tension still lingering in the air. “What’s up?” Corba questions.
“I… wait… uhhh,” I stammer, not quite sure what to say. “Did you want something?”
“I’m fine,” the dessert offers in return, smiling warmly.
“Okay then,” I reply, slowly backing up into the house once again and closing the door behind me.
I walk back to the bookshelf, my mind racing now as I struggle to understand what’s going on here. Could my ability to read the signals of another woman really be that far off?
When I get back to the window, I don’t even hesitate to look out, frustrated and flustered as I search for answers.
Corba and I lock eyes yet again. She’s on the upper deck, swaying her hips from side to side in an overtly seductive manner. The ice cream sandwich is rubbing the sides of her body, letting the melting ice cream gush through her fingers. She’s spilling everywhere, but using this liquid cascade to her advantage as she rubs herself with the sugary white flood.
There’s no way this isn’t a move, I realize, but I still hesitate before rushing out to the deck. I’ve been mistaken before, and this time I want to get it right. Maybe she’s just trying to shake loose a board.
I watch closely as Corba continues to gyrate, giggling and laughing as she goes. It suddenly becomes clear that her balance is a little off, the ice cream sandwich staggering momentarily as she loses control of her melting. At this point, there’s not much left of the dessert’s vanilla filling.
Without warning, Corba collapses, falling to the deck and then crashing straight through it. She plummets down in a shower of splintered wooden boards, slamming hard against the ground below with a loud thud.
“Oh my god!” I cry out, immediately rushing away from the window. I can’t get down through the deck, so I head out my front door and run around the side of the house until I reach the backyard.
Here I find Corba sprawled out on her back, gazing up at the sky through a hole in the deck with a vacant look in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I cry, rushing to her side.
“I’m melting,” the ice cream sandwich gurgles.
Immediately, I spring into action, picking her up and carrying her inside. The second we cross the threshold of my new home I slam the door behind me and rush over to the central air conditioning unit. I turn the temperature down as low as it can possible go.
By the time I return to Corba, things have started to cool down quite a bit. She appears to be regaining her senses.
“What happened?” I question.
The ice cream shakes her head. “It’s so embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not,” I assure her. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”
Corba takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I was just trying to impress you. That’s why I gave you such a good deal on the deck, and why I was out there trying to seduce you.”
A wave of relief washes over me as I realize that I wasn’t completely crazy this whole time. The sentient ice cream sandwich was trying to fuck.
“Why didn’t you just say something?” I question.
“I don’t know,” Corba continues. “I was embarrassed. I thought you’d like it if I melted a bit out there.”
“No!” I blurt. “Stay healthy! Don’t put yourself into situations like that just to flirt. Just communicate your feelings directly.”
“It’s hard,” the dessert replies, a truth I understand all too well.
I can see now that the lowered temperature appears to be working. Her body has started to replenish itself, hardening up once more. The two of us lock eyes for a moment as erotic tension swells.
“Why don’t you give it a try right now,” I offer. “Is there something you wanna say?”
“More like something I wanna do,” the beautiful ice cream sandwich replies.
Suddenly, the two of us are kissing hard, our lips pressed tightly together as I climb up over the top of her. We begin to roll around like this, passionately making out with one another as Corba tears the clothing away from my body. The gorgeous dessert strips me down and tosses my fabric around the barren room in colorful piles until I’m completely naked.
Soon enough, Corba’s attention begins to drift lower and lower across the topography of my frame. Her attention starts on my shoulders and collarbone, then makes its way down to my breasts. She plays with them a bit, teasing my nipples before continuing onward.
Eventually, the beautiful frozen snack arrives at my waistline, tracing her fingers along my hips as she teases me with the promise of more.
“Please,” I beg, the single word escaping from my lips in a soft moan.
The ice cream sandwich cracks a smile, hesitating just a moment longer and then finally giving in. She slips her hand even lower, dragging her finger across my aching clit and causing me to gasp quietly at her touch.
Corba begins to work me, moving gently at first as she rubs my body and then gradually picking up speed. She takes note of the way that I’m rocking my hips against her and tries her best to match the rhythm as we fall into sync with one another.
“Oh fuck, that feels so good,” I groan as we rock, rolling back and forth on the floor.
We continue like this for a while until, finally, the living dessert ends up on top of me. She begins to make her way slowly across my frame, kissing me gently as she descends and then finally ending up with her mouth positioned directly above my pussy. The sentient ice cream sandwich gazes up at me and smiles playfully, then dives in, swiftly tickling my clit with the patterns of her wet tongue.
Eventually, Corba’s technique begins to evolve, her soft flickers transforming into deep and powerful laps as she drags herself across me. She’s eating me out ferociously, and although I’m not typically one to like this kind of oral attack, Corba seems to know what she’s doing. I begin to feel the first blossoming sensations of orgasm as they build within, spilling across my body and flooding my arms and legs with a soft tingle. My muscles begin to clench and release in spastic fits as the pressure builds.
“Just like that, just like that,” I repeat, mumbling the words over and over again as my eyes roll back into my head. With every passing round I grow louder and louder, until I’m screaming them out at the top of my lungs. “Just like that! Just like that!”
Suddenly, the orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. I throw my head back and let out a frantic scream, ecstasy filling me up completely until there’s no room left within my physical form. I feel as though I’ve left my body, hovering above in a state of absolute bliss.
When I finally slam back down into myself, I’m not at all tired. In fact, I feel more energized than I’ve ever been. I want to give Corba the same aching pleasure that she’s so generously provided me.
Immediately, I spring into action, climbing up over the top of the frozen snack and pushing her back against the ground. I spread her legs open and then begin my mission, giving her everything I’ve got as I drag my tongue across the ice cream sandwich’s waiting pussy. I quickly fall into a steady groove, paying careful attention to the way that her sugary body reacts to my touch.
Of course, the ice cream sandwich tastes incredible, a delicious treat unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The creamy vanilla flavor is cool and refreshing, and when it’s combined with the hint of chocolate chip cookie from either side of her gorgeous body, I find myself receiving just as much pleasure as I’m giving away.
As Corba’s moaning grows louder and louder she reaches down and places a hand against the back of my head, pulling me closer and causing me to push even harder with my tongue.
I reach up with one hand and slip two fingers inside her body, filling her up as I continue to stimulate the ice cream sandwich’s clit. She clearly enjoys this, because the next thing I know Corba’s pussy is clenching tight around my digits and then releasing in a spastic fit of climax.
“Oh my fucking god, I’m cumming!” the frozen treat shrieks, her body convulsing wildly as I continue to work her.
Corba carries on like this for a good while until finally falling back against the floor in exhaustion.
I climb up and cuddle against the beautiful dessert, enjoying the sensation of her cool body next to mine on such a cold day.
“That was amazing,” I gush, basking in this wonderful moment.
I feel safe, happy and secure, something I wasn’t sure I’d find this quickly after moving across the country.
Corba kisses me on the forehead. “It really was. You’re right, I should’ve just been direct about how I felt.”
“It’s okay,” I offer in return. “It’s okay.”
We lay like this for a good while until the sentient dessert finally sits up. “Well, I guess I should get back to work on your deck.”
I smile knowingly, shaking my head from side to side as I reach over and grab my pants from their crumbled pile on the floor next to us. I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring I’ve had stored for such an occasion.
“Not my deck, our deck,” I say, offering Corba the ring. “Will you marry me?”
The beautiful ice cream sandwich doesn’t hesitate. “Yes! Yes, of course!” she cries, wrapping her arms around me once more and pulling me close.
Suddenly, this place feels like home.
