The Michelin star chef

I can’t read him at all when I meet him: he’s quiet, polite and possibly not an axe murderer. He offers me a drink as soon as I get there and we do the chit chat you do when you don’t know where the evening might end.

After one drink I’m thinking that he’s just not that into me, I ask if he wants another one. And then he says “shall we go and play” which is a clear signal that oh my god it’s on.

He has previously sent me a photo of his bag of tricks which to me was like catnip. My only proper master lives a very long way away and I wanted someone real to experiment with, not a faux Dom.

We take a short train ride then walk to his place. I’m really glad I changed into a mesh body which shows off my boobs but not too brazenly.

His place is probably the most stylish I’ve ever seen a man inhabit. Bespoke wooden floors, cabinets and interior. But this ain’t Homes and Gardens.

I’m waiting for him to make a move, but he wants to make me a drink. I sit on a leather swivel chair in the lounge and spin around. I’m hoping he might pin me to it.

Instead he sits opposite me on the sofa, one leg up. Dammit.

I get up and sit beside him feeling stupid. Is he going to make a move? I think I ask for the loo and then when I come out he’s somewhere in the bedroom so I go through to take a look. It’s huge and stylish and all very bare – no art on the walls anywhere.

Although who cares. I’m here to be fucked. He tells me to get undressed so I do but leave my underwear on. He lays me down on the bed and places two leather shackles around my wrists, clipping them together. Oh my.

He teases me a little, running his hand over my body and nudging my pussy a little with his cock. Which seems oddly flaccid. And then my pants are peeled off and his mouth is on my pussy. Oh my, he knows his way around. I’m very close to coming. And then : turn over. He asks if I want to be spanked and I giggle. Flogger or paddle – I choose flogger.

I’m on all fours with him behind me. He teases first, running it down from the nape of my neck down to my bum. And then it comes. He’s soft at first but increases the pressure gradually and the area he’s covering. My rear smarts.

After a few strikes, he arranges my knickers and runs his entire hand over them – I guess to check how wet I am. I’m certainly ready to go.

He unhooks my wrists next and pushes my head down to his cock, telling me “no hands”. Wow. I hadn’t even looked at it and now I’m right up close. It’s totally shaven and hard as a rock, a beautiful specimen. It fills my mouth. I really want it inside me, and he knows it.

Soon I’m riding him, he fills my pussy and I ride him as if my life depends on it. I really want to come. I get close and then he flips me over. Torture. He’s on top and it’s just as good, a perfect fuck in fact.

We switch again and I ride him to orgasm. It’s a delicious one, building up and then dying beautifully inside. He pumps his cock into my mouth and soon his milky white cum is done my throat, over my lips and dripping over his stomach. I try and clear up as best I can.

I lie there for a bit and realise I need to go. It’s been the most amazing fuck I’ve had in a while but I have no idea of telling if he wants to continue or go to sleep.

I hop up and get my knickers on, quickly dress and find my trainers. He walks me to the tube and kisses me goodbye.

I take the ride home feeling incredible smug and satisfied.

One thought on “The Michelin star chef”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s