Cooing with Irsten

I was in the kitchen when my sister burst in, arms full of plastic bags containing, I knew, bags of crisps, nuts, and salsa, laughing wildly at something one of her friends said. I heard some others following her in, I couldn’t tell how many. Bright and lively, although Jane works as a technician on various movie sets, she always seems to befriend the actors rather than her fellow techies. As she was back in Britain, she asked if she and some of her friends could come round to my London flat rather than trying to party in a hotel. I was delighted, and agreed to get in some booze and make my famous chicken wings.

I came into the sitting room, where people were making themselves comfortable, and gave my sister a hug, and she introduced me to the six or seven others as they unpacked the beers they’d brought me. Someone threw me a can, and I stood for a moment trying to put the names Jane had thrown at me to faces I recognised. Most were unknown, although some were vaguely familiar. Only as I glanced into the furthest corner of the room did I see her. A petite blonde was folding an expensive-looking jacket and looking for a space to put it. I recognised her at once, as a real Hollywood star and a woman I had fancied for years. It was Kirsten Dunst.

I opened my beer, to give my hands something to do, as I walked across to her, and offered to put her coat in my bedroom. She smiled, and accepted the offer, saying that the coat was a gift. As I came back from my bedroom, I went across to the kitchen. I had pulled the last wings out of the over and was “knocking back” the bread dough for some pizzas when, to my further amazement, Kirsten slipped through the door, looking stunning in a sleeveless black top that subtly accentuated all her perfect curves, and some fantastically tight tan trousers.

“Do you need any help?” she asked, sweetly.

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” I said, struggling to sound controlled, as though cute movie stars were always wandering into my tiny kitchen.

As I divided the dough into balls, we chatted. I was at something of a loss for words, obviously, but I asked a few questions, and Kirsten seemed to be quite happy to talk. She was quiet, and had a habit of running her finger over her lower lip as she thought that, in my besotted state, I found adorable. She was talking to me quite confidently, but claimed to be very shy, and only came to the party because she didn’t want to dine alone in London – knowing of the reputation of the tabloids, and the sleazy nature of many of my fellow Londoners, this struck me as very sensible. Soon, though, she stopped talking about her, and began asking about the cooking I was doing.

“I’ve never had the chance to cook. You don’t really, as an actress, and I never lived away from home before it was all restaurants and parties. To me, a homemade pizza comes out of a box and goes into the oven.”

This was a good topic for me – as a caterer I save money and improve results by cooking everything from basic ingredients. A lot of my success with women is due to my ability in the kitchen. So I talked her through making dough, tomato sauce, and so on, as I started to roll the dough.

“Can I do one?” she asked, face as eager as a child. Well, of course, I couldn’t say no, so I handed her the rolling pin, and got out a second apron, and dropped it over her head. Taking a deep breath, I reached behind her to grab the ties, and secured it over her flat stomach, my thumb just brushing the patch of bare skin below her vest. If she noticed anything, she didn’t say, and instead turned to the worktop to begin rolling, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth slightly.

Well, I don’t want to be rude, but she was dreadful. I mean, awful, so bad that I had to knead the dough back into a ball and let her start again. I showed her how to flour the pin, and then stood back, giving her a few instructions as she began to roll. Eventually she turned to me, and laughed in frustration.

“I can’t do it! You’ll have to show me.”

“Sure,” I said, moving to take the pin back from her.

“No,” she replied, not letting go. “I’ve watched you do it already. I mean, you’ll have to guide me.

This was the sweetest music I’d ever heard. I took a big swig of lager and reached around her, controlling the pin, one hand outside of each of her smaller hands. I willed myself to leave a discreet distance between our bodies. As I let go of the pin to rotate the pizza, she moved her hands slightly further apart, so that I had no choice but to lay mine over hers. As we rolled the dough thinner, Kirsten took a half step further backwards, so that our bodies were close together. I took a sudden, deep breath, and smelt her perfume, and the shampoo in her hair. Softly, so gently I was hardly aware at first of what she was doing, she began to sway her hips in time with the R&B pounding through from the living room. I became uncomfortably aware of the bulge forming in my trousers, but again, if she noticed, she said nothing.

All too soon, we had rolled all of the pizzas. I stood and directed Kirsten as she topped them and put them into the oven, whilst I tried to recover, and make sense of what had just happened. The pizzas went into the oven, and we started to chat again, but it a much more relaxed, light-hearted way. I was teasing her about her role in Spiderman, and the famous nipple pictures that are everywhere on the internet, when she dipped her hand into the flour, and put “nipples” on my navy shirt with her fingertips.

“Hey! Not fair! I’ve just taken my apron off,” I laughed. She didn’t reply, but stuck her pointed tongue out at me and rubbed her hands together, before lunging at me again, and grabbing my backside, leaving me with two floury prints on my arse. I reached for the flour, and did the same to her. She giggled, struggling against me, and I lifted her slightly off the ground. I couldn’t believe how light she was, I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I let her go, hoping she still thought this was a game. I could see from her face that she wasn’t angry with me.

Just then, the timer, to my disgust, began to beep, and I took the pizzas out of the oven as Kirsten brushed my handprints from her wonderful, wonderful ass and washed her hands. As I filled a tray with food, she reached around behind me, and removed my flour nipples with a wetted finger. I thought she took rather longer over this than she needed to, but I didn’t mind a bit. Then she started to stroke my backside, removing the last of the flour. I couldn’t move. She obviously knew exactly what she was doing with her hands. It was the most incredible feeling, even more so because until this evening she was a woman I had lusted after, from a distance.

“You’ve got an amazing body,” she purred, “so strong, and such a great ass. I think I might forget my jacket tonight, and have to come back to your bedroom.” I tried to think of a way to respond to this incredible statement, and the delicious emphasis on bed, but as I turned, she was gone, back into the party.

I brought out my food, which was the success I expected it to be, and sat down with another beer, making small talk to a male actor, whilst watching Kirsten across the room. She might have been shy, but was obviously popular, both as the only star in the room and as a fun and sexy young woman. She largely ignored me, but every so often she would turn and glance at me. Her ability to express lust across a room was both an impressive skill and a gift, for me and only me. The party went on for a long time, and was, I suppose a success, although I couldn’t wait for it to end. As everyone left, Jane stopping to drunkenly thank me for hosting her friends, I smiled, went into the bedroom to pick up Kirsten’s jacket, and waited.

After about ten minutes, she came back. I opened the door.

“You were looking for this?” I said, handing her jacket over. “Have a good night.” I grinned, and she smiled back. She threw her jacket over my shoulder, and giggled.

“Oops,” she said, and placing both hands on my chest, she started to walk forward, pushing me back into my room. She kicked the door shut behind her, and wrapped her leg around me, pulling herself close to me. She gazed up at me, her chin on my chest, her hands loosely around my neck. I kissed her forehead as I reached behind her and ran my hand along her spine, down to the small of her back, and began to stroke her ass. I squeezed her cheeks gently and lifted her, allowing me to kiss her lips as she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist. I kissed her gently at first, but we were both hungry for more and kissed harder, her pointed tongue exploring the inside of my mouth. I carried her to the wall and pinned her against it, and she moaned with lust as I began to kiss her more roughly, pushing her against the wall. This allowed me to take one hand from below her tight buttocks and squeeze her shoulder, to run a finger along her collarbone. She undid a single button on my shirt and slid a hand over my chest, deftly finding and pinching my nipples. Her lips moved from mine and she began to blow in my ear, and nibble my ears. I kissed her neck and her shoulder and reached down, running a hand over the front of her shirt, and felt at last her perfect, full breasts. She stuck her tongue into my ear and I shivered with pleasure at the sensation.

“Take me to your bedroom,” she whispered, her lips still at my ear.

I changed my grip and held her like a bride being carried over the threshold. As I walked across the room, she threw her shoes to the ground, and began to kiss me again. As I entered the room I threw her onto the bed, where she lay giggling as I kicked my shoes off and jumped over her. I grabbed her wrists and held the by her head as I kissed her, and ground my body against hers. She struggled gently, purring with pleasure, obviously aroused by being dominated. I released her hands, and she reached for me at once. I quickly took her hands and held them together, and pinned her hands above her head with one of mine. Still kissing her, I stroked her wrist with my free hand, and began to stroke her bare arm. As I passed her elbow and came closer to her armpit she began to struggle in earnest, obviously ticklish, but I was too strong for her. I stroked her armpit, and continued to move down her body, and stroked her side. I hooked a finger over the bottom of her shirt and pulled it slowly up her body. I stroked her perfect, flat stomach, and then reached up and began to stroke the underside of her breasts, causing her to moan softly again. I felt the lacy material of her bra just for a second before I swiftly pulled her top over her head and up to her hands. I did not remove it completely, but rather I tied it loosely around her wrists, tying her there, vulnerable and exposed below me.

I looked down, watching her writhing gently, her obvious arousal stirring my own still further. I kissed her again, briefly, and then ran my lips down and gently bit her chin, kissed her neck, ran my tongue slowly up and down her collarbone and began to kiss her chest, up to the edge of her black, lacy bra. I traced the top edge of it with my tongue, from one breast to the other, and began to stroke her breast with one hand, feeling her nipple harden below me. She was moaning loudly now, and clearly enjoying both the sensation and her own restraint. I pulled the fabric of her bra down, allowing my to kiss and lick further and further down her breasts. I stopped just before I reached her nipple, and then abruptly stopped, causing her to cry out in surprise and disappointment. I reached down, and quickly unbuttoned her trousers, before I rolled her onto her front. I left her lying there for a moment as I swiftly pulled off my own shirt and trousers, and then, clad in just my boxers, straddled her as she lay on her front. I released her bra, and it disappeared from her back, which I began to kiss, starting at her neck and moving down her spine as I gently pulled her trousers down. I kissed down her spine and reached her buttocks as I threw her trousers to the ground. She was wearing only a tiny thong that, from what I could see, matched her bra.

I licked and gently bit her buttocks, and then, gently, smacked her. She gasped with surprise and pleasure at the sudden new feeling. I began to kiss back up her spine, and continued to smack her buttocks, and she gasped each time I touched her. The harder I spanked, the louder she gasped. With my other hand, I reached down to her knees and pulled them apart, and placed a single fingertip against her knee, and began to slowly move up her smooth, firm thighs, moving up, and then down almost to where I started, teasing her, prolonging the sensation. I was lying beside her now, kissing her neck and blowing in her ear as I smacked her and continued to move up her thigh. I felt her wetness before I touched the fabric of her thong, and again, her obvious arousal fuelled my own desire still further. I knew I couldn’t wait much longer, and, finally, my hand reached its goal. I slid her damp thong to one slide and began to gently caress her clitoris, causing her gasping to increase in urgency.

I stopped smacking her, and reached underneath her and started to squeeze her nipple, firmly but gently, and to stroke her breast. Meanwhile, I continued to rub her engorged clit as she stared into my face, her wetted lips puckering with pleasure, her face reddening as she began to breath more and more irregularly. My eyes were locked with her wonderful brown ones, and I pressed on her more strongly as her hips began to buck against my hand. I moved my finger faster, and faster, and her gasps turned to short, sharp shouts, her body shaking hard as she continued to ride my hand until she stopped shouting, turned redder and redder and stopped bucking. My finger moved like a blur and she was shaking wildly until she finally let out a scream, shook for a final time and began to pant, recovering from the magnificent orgasm that I could still feel rushing through her pussy.

I turned her over again, and untied her hands, allowing me to remove her bra, before I reached down and removed her thong. She was now lying underneath me, perfectly naked, naked and perfect. I admired her petite, lithe body, her proud breasts with their nipples hard as diamond and the tiny triangle of blond hair around her pussy. She reached up and ran her hands over my body, and I felt goose-bumps jump up over my skin as she touched my bare chest for the first time. Quickly and urgently she removed my boxers, her eyes widening slightly as she saw my large cock for the first time. She grasped it firmly with one of her tiny hands, as she brushed the other one lightly against my balls. My knob was straining away from my body; I had been waiting for a long, long time for this. Smiling slightly, Kirsten shifted up the bed, and spread her legs in front of me, and started to pull my raging cock towards her.

Knowing that she loved to be dominated, I was not going to let her take the lead here. I took hold of both of her hands in both of mine, and pushed her down until she was flat on her back, staring up at me. I pinned her arms to the bed and then released them just for a second, whilst I took up her top and tied it to her again, this time not to her wrists, but over her eyes, as a blindfold.

“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, softly, as I took her hands in mine again. There was something incredibly erotic in knowing that this image of perfection, this woman famed for her beauty around the world wanted me as much as I wanted her. I began to softly probe the softness of her hair with my rock-hard cock, gently feeling my way into her. When I reached her very entrance, I pushed inside her, just once, for only an inch or so, before I pulled back and waited. I wanted her to show she wanted me.

She pushed her hips towards me, not able to see where I was, and I pulled back.

“Come on, I want you, I need you,” she murmured softly. “Fuck me. Get inside me right now and take me. Come on.”

I couldn’t wait any longer. Swiftly I pushed forwards and entered her, and we both gasped at the sudden pleasure, sweeter for the delay. I thrust into her, deeper and deeper, until my pubes were wetted by the juices that were pouring from her. She was a very skilled lover, moving in rhythm with me, like the trained dancer she is, and squeezing me tightly with her strong vaginal muscles. I pushed faster and faster, and saw her mouth begin to pucker again as her breath came faster and faster. She began to talk, urging me on with every gasp.

“Oh…yes…fuck…me…faster… oh…oh…harder…yes… oh…I’m…going to…come…oh…faster… yes…oh…oh…yes…oh…oh…oh”

I felt myself tensing towards my own climax and moved as fast as I could inside her as she grew tighter and tighter, her legs now wrapped around my waist, allowing me to thrust even deeper, her hands struggling underneath mine.

“Oh…oh…yes…ooh…ah…I’m coming… coming…yes…aah…ooh…oh… OH…OH…YES! YES! YES…OH…oh”

We came together, hard, fast and deep, and then lay back exhausted. Kirsten slept wrapped in my arms that night.