This One Was A Little Different Pt. 2
"Are you sure I can't help you with anything?"
"Oh no. I'm sure. I've never needed a sous chef unless there is a lot of cutting involved. There is no cutting involved here yet. I just tied up my bird and that's about all there was to it."
"We're having chicken?"
"No sweetie. It's a game bird."
"Oh. Okay."
The smells coming from her kitchen were wonderful. The birds exquisitely seasoned with peppers and herbs, the oven roasted broccoli with garlic and long grain brown rice. She plated us both and we ate at her dining table and finished off the wine. It was an amazing dinner. She was an incredibly gifted chef. "You are a wonderful cook," I said.
"A cook? I'm a chef."
"Oh, you never told me that. I guess that makes sense."
"So do you approve?"
"I absolutely do!"
"Absolutely?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"You are sweet," she said as she put a finger to her lips and then placed it on mine. I closed my eyes for a moment when she did. She let her finger linger there for a bit before she broke them open again with her laughter. "Did I make you hard again?"
I was suddenly blushing with embarrassment again. She had noticed it before. Maybe I should just kiss her goodnight and go home. Maybe I needed to stay. Oh yes, I needed to stay. She knew that I desperately needed to stay. She knew that I was going to stay. She knew that I was not about to leave.
While I was still trying to make up an intelligent response she began to pick up the plates and silverware and take them back into the kitchen. "You can help with the dishes, though. I love to cook, but I don't like doing dishes. So this is where you can be handy."
"Sure," I said and walked to the sink to help her out. She had already run soapy water in the sink and had gotten the dishes ready for scrubbing.
"Here," she said. "You can clean." She stepped out back behind me and gently pushed me in front of the sink. I found a scrub brush and began on the dishes. She stood behind me. "You are doing such a good job." She leaned in close behind me, wrapping her arms possessively around my chest as I tried to do her dishes. "Such a good job, sweetie." She found and began to fondle my nipples. They were immediately as hard as limestone gravel. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back and cooed as she stuck her tongue into my ear. Still trying to do her dishes, I had to let go and grab onto the counter above the sink as my knees began to buckle. Her tongue in my ear and on my neck while her hands unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly, and lowered my pants underwear and all right down to my knees.
She pressed her body in from behind me, still kissing on my neck. Her left hand reaching around to pinch my hard right nipple, her right hand had taken over my cock. She stroked it slowly but forcefully as she whispered into my ear while still licking. "This is our third date, you know. And you know what that means, don't you? It means you were expecting it. You were hard five minutes after you got here. And it didn't hurt what I put into the wine." She laughed to herself at that.
"What you put in the wine?"
"Oh, just a little incentive." She laughed and bit my neck. I gasped. She tightened her grip on my throbbing cock. "I bet you thought this was going to go down differently, didn't you?" she said as she slowly tugged on my dick. "But look who's pants are down now." To drive home her point, she bucked me from behind a few times while squeezing my penis hard.
"What did you put in the wine?" That was all my dizzy head could manage.
"Wine. Wine. Whine." She bit my ear, and I cried out. So she slapped my face with her left hand that had been pinching my nipples before. "Shush, sweetie," she whispered. "Behave. Are you going to behave for me? Or is there going to be a problem?"
"No. No problem. Behave."
"Good boy."
Words had become difficult to form now for me. I had obviously been d**gged. It had affected my ability to speak, to move away, to flee, to do dishes. As long as she kept stroking my cock I was paralyzed in position. "Turn around," she said, releasing her grip suddenly and taking a step back. I did as I was told with my arms bracing onto the edges of the counter for support and my poor cock flopping up and down without her hand. I remember looking into her eyes as if asking what do you want me to do.
"Your penis is so hard," she said. "It's dripping. Like a steady line from your peehole to the floor now. Do you see that? This stuff must really work!"
I did look down. My cock had turned a different color from the rest of my body. So swollen and almost purple now. So desperate for some release. And it was oozing a constant stream of clear, sweet precum from the tip to the floor now just like she said.
"Dripping. Line. Peehole," was all that I could manage to get out before she took a step back towards me again. She placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down upon my knees. So that my face was directly in front of her crotch. "You can touch yourself," she said. I did. "Now taste your precum that's been dripping from your peepee." I did with a finger. It was sweet. As she began to unbutton her jeans. "Does that taste good, sweetie? Do you like it? Do you like your peepee?"
Before I could answer, she had unzipped her fly. And instead of where a pussy should have been, there was an enormously hard cock.
So much bigger than mine. I had no idea. She's so beautiful. But she has a cock. A really big cock. And it is right in front of my face. I am frozen until her further orders.
"I can see that you are confused," she says. "You are not quite sure what to do, are you, sweetie?"
I could not speak, but I could also not turn away.
"Let me help you out," she said. "This is the appropriate response." She grabbed my head with her hands and guided my mouth onto her hard, massive cock. She pumped in and out of my mouth like it was a pussy. Like I was her pussy. "More tongue." she would sometimes say. "Suck like a vacuum," at others. And then she would always say "Sweetie. " And just before she shot her load into my mouth and deep down my throat she said, "Oh sweetie. I just can't wait to turn you over!"
"Oh no. I'm sure. I've never needed a sous chef unless there is a lot of cutting involved. There is no cutting involved here yet. I just tied up my bird and that's about all there was to it."
"We're having chicken?"
"No sweetie. It's a game bird."
"Oh. Okay."
The smells coming from her kitchen were wonderful. The birds exquisitely seasoned with peppers and herbs, the oven roasted broccoli with garlic and long grain brown rice. She plated us both and we ate at her dining table and finished off the wine. It was an amazing dinner. She was an incredibly gifted chef. "You are a wonderful cook," I said.
"A cook? I'm a chef."
"Oh, you never told me that. I guess that makes sense."
"So do you approve?"
"I absolutely do!"
"Absolutely?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"You are sweet," she said as she put a finger to her lips and then placed it on mine. I closed my eyes for a moment when she did. She let her finger linger there for a bit before she broke them open again with her laughter. "Did I make you hard again?"
I was suddenly blushing with embarrassment again. She had noticed it before. Maybe I should just kiss her goodnight and go home. Maybe I needed to stay. Oh yes, I needed to stay. She knew that I desperately needed to stay. She knew that I was going to stay. She knew that I was not about to leave.
While I was still trying to make up an intelligent response she began to pick up the plates and silverware and take them back into the kitchen. "You can help with the dishes, though. I love to cook, but I don't like doing dishes. So this is where you can be handy."
"Sure," I said and walked to the sink to help her out. She had already run soapy water in the sink and had gotten the dishes ready for scrubbing.
"Here," she said. "You can clean." She stepped out back behind me and gently pushed me in front of the sink. I found a scrub brush and began on the dishes. She stood behind me. "You are doing such a good job." She leaned in close behind me, wrapping her arms possessively around my chest as I tried to do her dishes. "Such a good job, sweetie." She found and began to fondle my nipples. They were immediately as hard as limestone gravel. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back and cooed as she stuck her tongue into my ear. Still trying to do her dishes, I had to let go and grab onto the counter above the sink as my knees began to buckle. Her tongue in my ear and on my neck while her hands unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly, and lowered my pants underwear and all right down to my knees.
She pressed her body in from behind me, still kissing on my neck. Her left hand reaching around to pinch my hard right nipple, her right hand had taken over my cock. She stroked it slowly but forcefully as she whispered into my ear while still licking. "This is our third date, you know. And you know what that means, don't you? It means you were expecting it. You were hard five minutes after you got here. And it didn't hurt what I put into the wine." She laughed to herself at that.
"What you put in the wine?"
"Oh, just a little incentive." She laughed and bit my neck. I gasped. She tightened her grip on my throbbing cock. "I bet you thought this was going to go down differently, didn't you?" she said as she slowly tugged on my dick. "But look who's pants are down now." To drive home her point, she bucked me from behind a few times while squeezing my penis hard.
"What did you put in the wine?" That was all my dizzy head could manage.
"Wine. Wine. Whine." She bit my ear, and I cried out. So she slapped my face with her left hand that had been pinching my nipples before. "Shush, sweetie," she whispered. "Behave. Are you going to behave for me? Or is there going to be a problem?"
"No. No problem. Behave."
"Good boy."
Words had become difficult to form now for me. I had obviously been d**gged. It had affected my ability to speak, to move away, to flee, to do dishes. As long as she kept stroking my cock I was paralyzed in position. "Turn around," she said, releasing her grip suddenly and taking a step back. I did as I was told with my arms bracing onto the edges of the counter for support and my poor cock flopping up and down without her hand. I remember looking into her eyes as if asking what do you want me to do.
"Your penis is so hard," she said. "It's dripping. Like a steady line from your peehole to the floor now. Do you see that? This stuff must really work!"
I did look down. My cock had turned a different color from the rest of my body. So swollen and almost purple now. So desperate for some release. And it was oozing a constant stream of clear, sweet precum from the tip to the floor now just like she said.
"Dripping. Line. Peehole," was all that I could manage to get out before she took a step back towards me again. She placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down upon my knees. So that my face was directly in front of her crotch. "You can touch yourself," she said. I did. "Now taste your precum that's been dripping from your peepee." I did with a finger. It was sweet. As she began to unbutton her jeans. "Does that taste good, sweetie? Do you like it? Do you like your peepee?"
Before I could answer, she had unzipped her fly. And instead of where a pussy should have been, there was an enormously hard cock.
So much bigger than mine. I had no idea. She's so beautiful. But she has a cock. A really big cock. And it is right in front of my face. I am frozen until her further orders.
"I can see that you are confused," she says. "You are not quite sure what to do, are you, sweetie?"
I could not speak, but I could also not turn away.
"Let me help you out," she said. "This is the appropriate response." She grabbed my head with her hands and guided my mouth onto her hard, massive cock. She pumped in and out of my mouth like it was a pussy. Like I was her pussy. "More tongue." she would sometimes say. "Suck like a vacuum," at others. And then she would always say "Sweetie. " And just before she shot her load into my mouth and deep down my throat she said, "Oh sweetie. I just can't wait to turn you over!"
2 years ago
