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Dinner Time by Dulcinea
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Dinner Time
by Dulcinea
The delightful odor of a roasting chicken filled the house, his
mouth watering as soon as he opened the door. Dropping
his coat over the back of the sofa, he followed the aroma to
the kitchen.
"What's cooking, good looking?" he asked, sneaking up
behind her. She was standing at the kitchen sink, peeling
potatoes. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he hugged
her, kissing the side of her neck. "Smells great!"
"Thanks." She kissed the top of his head, turning her
attention back to the potatoes in the sink. "Dinner will be
in about thirty minutes. Want to set the table?"
"Mmmm." He pulled her back against his body, loving
the feel of her softness in his arms. They could both feel
his cock growing hard as it pressed against her ass. "Maybe
we should plan dinner, say, in about an hour?"
"Honey..." She leaned her head back and rested it on his
shoulder, relaxing a moment in his grip. "The chicken will
be burned, the broccoli will be overcooked, the potato salad
won't be ready...." She took a deep breath as his hands
moved up to caress her breasts through her tee shirt. "And
I haven't done anything for dessert," she finished breathlessly.
"I like my broccoli mushy," he whispered in her ear, his
hands sliding down, under her waistband of her knit pants
and inside her panties. Rubbing the outside of her shaved
pussy, he ground his cock against her ass. "And I know
exactly what I want for dessert."
His finger plunged between her pussy lips, and he wasn't
surprised to find her already wet. Stroking her clit softly, he
was delighted by her soft moanings. She dropped the potato
she was peeling into the bowl, the knife clattering to the sink
below. Nibbling on her shoulders through the tee shirt, he
began to slide her pants off, his hands caressing the soft skin
on her hips and thighs.
Falling to his knees, he began to lick the inside of her thighs,
smelling the sweet odor of her pussy. Two fingers slid deep
inside of her, twisting and plunging in and out of her. She
was leaning heavily against the sink, spreading her legs wider
so he had better access.
Replacing his fingers with tongue, he licked as deep inside her
pussy as he could, lapping up all the juices that he could get.
Crying out, she came hard, right on his tongue. "Uh-oh," he
said, laughing. "I had my dessert before dinner. Hope I'm not
in trouble!"
"No, not in trouble," She returned his laughter. She still lay
against the sink, breathing hard. "But you are going to have
mushy broccoli."
"Good!" He unzipped his slacks, his hard cock springing out.
Hand on his hips, he held her steady as he entered her,
plunging all the way into her on the first stroke. "I told you,
I like mushy broccoli."
Pinning her against the sink, he pumped in and out of her, her
pussy tight around his cock. The pleasure became unbearable
as she climaxed, her pussy muscles clutching his cock, trying
to draw him in deeper. "Oh, honey," he said, his body
stiffening as he shot his cum inside of her, "I love you so
much!"
They stayed together a few moments more, enjoying the
touch of the other. When at last they separated, they did
it slowly, tenderly. At dinner, he ate mushy broccoli happily.
And later that night, he had a second helping of dessert.
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