The Chef

We meet on an unusually warm Monday after two weeks of flirting. He has arrived first and I offer to find us seats. 

He brings over our drinks and we chat like old friends, he is easy to talk to and there are no awkward gaps in conversation. He is handsome. His eyes are full and brown, I fancy him. But does he like me? His passion for life is infectious; I feel dull in comparison.

I am wearing the bra with the lace panel that fastens around my neck, teamed with my gold choker it looks like it’s part of the necklace. His eyes dart there, to my covered breasts and my knees which are almost touching his. He smiles a lot, and at one relevant point I grab his knee – something about rugby. 


Back at mine he refuses a drink and I wonder how long he has. He has driven me here so he can make a getaway easily. 

He grabs me suddenly and we kiss hungrily. He is delicious. I feel the tightness of his cock in his jeans and his hands grab my butt. I suggest we go upstairs. 


We kiss again on the bed, he parts my legs and licks the inside of my thigh. I need the loo but I’m too embarrassed to tell him. I don’t want to break the spell. He goes for it, his tongue and beard darting around my pussy. It has been so long I want to cry. I take off my dress and he comments on the bra, saying he wondered what it was. 


I pull his trousers down and work his cock out of his pants, it’s a good size and semi hard. He smells good and I love having him in my mouth. He pulls my hair hard, but not violently- as we discussed. I feel him grow soft and pull out from me, he sucks and pulls my nipples and I feel him get harder again. He pulls me on top of him and I slide up and down the length of his cock without him even entering me. I come like that, reminded of the intense dry humping I did with my first boyfriend under his poster of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers with their cocks in tube socks. 


I pass him a condom and he slides straight inside me, pumping hard on top of me, trying different angles until he hits the spot and grunts into my ear. 

He rolls off me and silently I will him not to leave immediately. 

We lie there sweating and he says I should get a fan and I wonder if there is one up in the loft that my ex left behind. His toes touch mine, and I flinch, thinking its a mistake. He does it again and I realise he likes it. I wonder exactly how fucked up I am to wish him to stay here all night and hold me in his arms. 


We are chatting but then there is an uncomfortably long silence. I wonder if we can survive it. My mind is blank. He is grinning ear to ear so I ask him about his recent visit to a swingers night. 

As he describes the scenarios I feel myself get wetter, I want to be there with him experiencing it too. He asks me why I’ve never done it and I mumble something about not wanting to go alone. 


I am lying on my front now, wondering if this is it. He will get up soon and leave. But he snakes a hand somehow through my legs and starts to finger my pussy. I tell him it’s a magic finger and he laughs, I arch my back to let him in further. We are kissing again and oh god it’s round two I quickly realise. This time he comes all over my breasts, great warm spurts of cum which I rub into them and boy do I feel like a pornstar. 

He asks me the time and we work out he’s been here for two hours. We kiss as he leaves and I taste my pussy on him. 

I want him again already.