10
Marcus had absolutely no idea what to expect tonight. His life was ordinary. He worked a pretty shitty job and his nights were usually spent either skating around with buddies trying to score pussy, or sitting at home getting wasted. Was this going to be a high-class dinner party? He'd never been to one of those. How many people would be there? How should he dress? How was he meant to behave? Was Miss Christy going to try to set him up with a woman, perhaps one of her other clients? He packed his groceries into the pantry and refrigerator, and flopped onto the couch.
His intention in life, once he'd gotten over the wave of suicidal tendencies, was to try to discover why he couldn't fuck people he loved, but could (and wanted to) fuck just about anyone else that moved. He wasn't sure how far he'd come or how much he'd learned, and he felt anxious, yet oddly intrigued, about what tonight might hold in store for him.
He had a few hours to waste. He smoked a cone or two and napped.
Waking up around half past four, he showered, making sure to wash his shoulder-length brown hair. He dried off and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He knew he wasn't ugly, but he had no idea why an experienced woman as unbelievably hot as Christy -- his sex therapist, mind you -- had invited him to come over for dinner. He looked at his chest and arms. Not built, but not saggy. Wiry, perhaps. He noted the brick wall tattoo on his left forearm. He was so glad he had that done, he didn't care what anyone else thought of it. He noticed his tummy was a little flabby. He looked at his legs. A little bit muscly, probably from skating. He looked at his flaccid dick. It got the job done when erect, but it was nothing compared to the pound of flesh Alex packed. He turned around to look at his ass. It was OK, he thought. So I'm average in just about every way, he summarised.
He wondered how he should dress. The majority of his wardrobe was band t-shirts, long shorts and skater socks. He didn't own a suit. He stopped himself at this point -- dude, you're not going to a royal fucking wedding, this is just dinner at someone's house; dress one notch above normal, and it'll be noticed and appreciated.
He fished out a long-sleeved black collared shirt from the depths of his cupboard. Black skater pants and a pair of Chucks finished it. He collected his phone, wallet and keys, and left. He thought he was looking OK.
He caught the bus to Christy's place and arrived a few minutes after six. He rang the doorbell. No response. He knew he was at the right house. Marcus stood on the doorstep for a moment or two. He rang again. This time, the door opened.
Marcus honestly couldn't believe what he saw. There stood Christy, with a load of fresh cum all over her face and streaming down her chin. "Hey, Marcus, come in. Sorry, you caught me at a bad moment. Alex is in the kitchen, walk on through. Excuse me for a minute, I need to powder my nose." Marcus knew what that meant -- she needed to clean herself up. He walked through to the kitchen. He found Alex cooking up a storm, wearing nothing but an apron. There was a hole cut in the front of the apron just where Alex's dick would rest. Marcus pieced it together: Alex was cooking dinner, and Christy had been on her knees in front of him, she'd pulled his fat dick through the hole in the apron and had sucked him off. Alex had just unloaded all over Christy's face when Marcus rang the doorbell, which was why she was slow to answer the door. OK, thought Marcus, that was ... unexpected.
There didn't seem to be anyone else here, and it didn't seem to be the swanky high-class dinner party he was fearing. It looked like it was just him, Christy and her husband.
"Hey, Marcus", said Alex. He was standing against the cooktop in his apron, stirring the contents of a wok. Rice was steaming on the backburner. "Welcome to our house. I'm just cooking dinner, as you can see. I hope you're hungry."
Marcus was, as a matter of fact, but he had absolutely no idea what he should say. "Yeah, man, I've worked up a bit of an appetite. What are you cooking?". Marcus tried as hard as he could to hold a sensible conversation, but this required him to shut from his mind the image of Alex firing ropes of sperm all over his hot therapist's face.
"Ah, it's just a Thai stir fry. Chilli and basil. Pretty easy to cook, to be honest", replied Alex. "Do you cook?"
Marcus still felt nervous. "Nah, man, not properly. Way too hard for me. I mean, stir fries look easy because they get cooked so fast, but I know it's all in the prep. Having everything ready to go before you start. I'm not that organised."
"Yeah", replied Alex, "it really isn't hard. You get your rice on, your sauce ready, your vegetables chopped and diced and ready to go before you fire up the wok. That way, all you're really doing is stirring. Getting the sauce right is the probably hardest and most important part, but everything else is pretty easy. Give me a minute, I need to get the rice ready." Alex took the rice off the backburner, drained the liquid off, and transferred the rice into a serving bowl. Steam poured off the wok.
Alex continued. "Tonight's dinner is almost ready. The chilli and basil are already in. Come closer, all we need to do is to put the snow peas in the wok for a minute or two so they warm up."
Marcus wasn't sure what Alex was implying. "You want me to put the snow peas in and stir them around for a bit?"
"Yeah, man, it's not hard. Here, I'll show you." Alex stepped back from the wok for a second or two, and beckoned Marcus over.
Marcus stood behind the wok and took the wooden spoon from Alex. There was a small bowl of snow peas to his left, already prepared and ready to go. All Marcus had to do was to add the snow peas to the wok and stir them around with the rest of the ingredients for a minute.
Marcus tipped the snow peas in and started stirring. He stirred fairly innocently, fairly tamely. Alex intervened. "Man, that's weak. Come on Marcus, you need to put a bit of elbow into it." Alex stood behind Marcus and encouraged him to stir with more vigour. He gripped Marcus's shoulders, and Marcus could feel Alex's breath on his neck. Marcus knew there was nothing right now between him and Alex but an apron with a cockhole cut into it.
Marcus stirred dinner, but his mind was on Alex. He was thinking about his Alex's massive cock. Marcus wondered what it might feel like if it rested against his ass.
After cleaning Alex's semen off her face, Christy came back into the kitchen and saw him towering over Marcus as he stirred their dinner to completion. She knew this was going to be a good night.
"Hey, babe", said Alex, "dinner is ready. Marcus finished it off for us. He's not bad in the kitchen." Marcus blushed.
"I'll open some wine", said Christy. She crossed the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of New Zealand sauvignon blanc from their chiller. "This'll go perfectly with the Thai spices. You like spicy food, Marcus?"
"Yes, Miss Christy, I'm a big fan of spicy food."
Christy opened the bottle and poured three glasses, giving one to Marcus and taking the other two across to the table. Alex transferred the contents of the wok to a serving bowl, and he took this bowl and the rice from the kitchen across to the table.
They sat down and started to eat. The meal was delicious. Marcus sipped his wine. He wasn't really a wine dude, but when a chick like Christy gives you a glass of wine, you fucking drink it.
Christy looked amazing. Marcus wanted to bend her over and fuck her in the ass right there against the table, but ... table manners. Besides, her husband was in the room.
*
