Dinner Plans

Your text:

"When r u coming home?"

My brief reply:

"Leaving by 5:30" [+ 'blowing a kiss' emoji]

You:

['hearts' emoji]

Me:

"Dinner thoughts? I'm really hungry"

You:

"I got a plan in mind"

Me:

"Kk--text me if you need anything"

You:

"I'm good"

Me:

"Kewl"

The subway ride was mercifully uneventful. When I text "On the bus. C u in a few," you simply reply "Yay!"

*****

Fatigued, I climb the stairs, open the door, drop my bag. As I step into the kitchen, you greet me with a bright, "Hi sweetie!"

I barely have time to register how sexy you look, in cutoff shorts and a crisp white buttondown, when you launch yourself at me, and start kissing me deeply and passionately. I'm momentarily startled, then respond in kind, and in seconds we're almost frantically kissing and groping each other.

Re-energized (and very quickly aroused), I grab your curvy, tight butt with one hand, and pull your body against mine. You squirm and utter a little "Mmm," as I press into you.

As I reach down, seeking the soft sweetness between your thighs, you push my hand away, laughing. Giving the protuberance in my jeans a quick squeeze, you issue a bemused "Oh my!" Then--in what seems like one flowing movement--you drop to your knees, release several forms of fasteners, and yank everything to the floor. My semi-hard penis pops out, lolling at an angle that is at once relaxed and very lewd.

I close my eyes, enjoying the touch of your little hands, but gasp as the warm sensations of your lips and tongue wash over me. I feel you suck me in ever so slowly, then release me. You repeat this several times, going deeper each time, until my now-fully-erect cock completely disappears into your mouth. I sneak a peek and think to myself, 'Whoa...'

[I'm not trying to say it's

that

big, but it's not inconsequential either.]

Then you get serious, fellating the steely rod, switching up the pace and depth now and then, just to keep me guessing. With one hand wrapped around the shaft, working in concert with your mouth, you add little tongue flicks and kisses at random. And within two, maybe three, minutes--when your other hand grabs my balls like a bunch of flowers--it's more than I can stand.

I open my eyes suddenly, and blurt out "Wait, swee--" but it's too late. In a split second (even before my attempted warning, actually), you deftly pull your mouth off my cock. A big spurt of semen hits your cheek, and you pull me back toward your open mouth, allowing the remaining few spurts to hit your proffered tongue. The viscous white mess dribbles down your front, as my member starts to sag.

Splattered and still on your knees, you look nonplussed, but only for a second. Wiping your face on your sleeve, you stand up and kiss me again. Hard. I get a little shock as our lips and tongues meet, and you feed me a taste of my own cum.

We break apart, and you turn to head down the hall, saying (with a bit of a smirk),

"Thanks for that. I gotta change my outfit now, y'know?"

"Don't do it on my account."

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you? Let's not be too proud of ourselves now, [again with a smirk]

darling

..."

"Hmmm... OK, I guess I should clean up too."

*****

Returning to the kitchen, I see you looking refreshed, wearing tiny black boyshorts and a soft tank top; you turn and smile [for a split-second I think there's a mischievous glint in your eye, but I could be wrong]. Regardless, it's clear that you're not wearing a bra, and I feel a renewed tingling in my lower body. (That 'little blue pill' I took last night, in the hope that we might get busy--before I unceremoniously fell asleep on the couch--still has some life in it after all!)

I pause for a minute, watching you sort the beautiful produce you bought earlier today. Gently squeezing tomatoes to assess their ripeness, lightly running your fingers over length of the zucchini, you pick the ones you want, and start your mise en place [what ARE we having for dinner?].

Wrapping my arms around your waist, and kissing you lightly on the neck, I ask,

"Anything I can do to help you cook?"

"Nah, I'm good for now."

But I continue kissing your neck and shoulders, as my hands begin to roam over your body, touching, massaging, squeezing... You mumble, "Hey, what's going on?" as my fingers trail over an especially sensitive spot,

I stop. But then you put down the knife (safety first!), and brace your hands against the counter. Scooting your feet back a little, you lean forward slightly, and ask, "Well?"

i resume kissing and caressing my way down your back and beyond, then twist and slide under you, sitting with my back against the kitchen cabinets. Applying a gentle rhythmic caress to the soft cleft between your legs, I increase the speed and pressure, and feel it growing damp through the fabric. You suddenly reach down with one hand and pull the crotch of your underwear aside. I take in your sweet, musky perfume, and cover your sex with tender kisses. You inhale and exhale with a sigh that's almost melodic.

I quickly pull the little shorts down, help you step out of them, then go on kissing, licking, nibbling every bit of your beautiful, soft, nether-lips. I lavish special attention on your little pleasure center, and every now and then reach up to feel your voluptuous breasts.

Moistening my fingers, I insert one inside you, then another, massaging that sweet spot I know well. I feel your legs shake a bit, and my face and hands are covered with your warm effluvia as a gentle little orgasm runs through you, accompanied by deep, breathy sighs.

Gradually, I wriggle out from between your thighs, get up and ask, "May I--? Do you want--?"

After a couple of deep breaths, you say bluntly, "Oh my god, Mr. Impatient--can you give a girl a second to breathe?!?"

You step around me a bit awkwardly and run to our room, returning quickly with something behind your back. That something turns out to be a toy. A big toy. A vibrator. THE vibrator.

Leaning over the counter, you plug in the wand and reposition yourself, one arm braced against the counter, bent over, legs spread wide. I hear a switch click on (the loud buzz tells me it's on "HI"), and hear you gasp as it first touches you.

"Now," you say in a hoarse whisper, "NOW you can fuck me."

I don't need to be told twice. Dropping the soft pants I'm wearing, I sidle in closer. Nudging your thighs a little further apart, I tease your dripping wet labia, coaxing you to accept me. When my engorged glans unwittingly makes contact with the vibe, it causes a chain reaction of shivers that courses through both of us.

You're already very well-lubricated, but I enter you ever so slowly. Back-and-forth, I advance by millimeters each time. (For a moment, I think, "Am I subconsciously trying to replicate that blowjob she gave me earlier...?") Then my hips start to pump, in an involuntary, primal rhythm, and I'm fucking you for real, fast and very deep. But the mind-blowing collision of sensations--your lush, wet pussy gripping my cock as tightly as a closed fist, and the intense vibrations from the toy--quickly overwhelms me.

My last hard thrust almost lifts you off your feet, then I lose all control. It feels as if everything is shaking, and I come, and come, and come, buried inside you. Your legs begin to shudder violently, then go rigid, and again we're bathed in a flood of your juices, as a guttural noise emanates from deep within you. As this earthquake subsides, I hear the toy switch off. And then there is silence.

Still panting, I ask, "Anything I can do to help you cook?"

"Nah," you say, breath still heaving, then add, "Fuck it--let's order a pizza."

*****