Michael’s hot, teaser girlfriend lures him to the kitchen, where she needs his help fixing dinner. How little does he suspect how intimate his contribution to the meal will be. This 1,700-word erotic short story features female and male masturbation, and disgusting abuse of otherwise farm-fresh food. A bonus 1700-word short is also included.
Her left hand crept up to her blouse, over the taut line of her breasts and to the top button below her throat. She started unbuttoning, moving down at a leisurely pace, one button after another. Her eyes never wavered from mine.
The blouse fell open and her hands went to her breasts, encased in a frilly white bra with lace around the tops. I never figured out why she wore the damn things. Her little boobs defied gravity.
Closing her eyes, she slowly ran her hands across the fabric of the bra. My cock started to strain at my jeans. I moved toward her.
I moved back.
While lifting and cupping her boobs, Junie massaged her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. Her breathing picked up, deeper, a little faster. Her face was getting flushed. I could see her thighs clenching through the tight denim.
Pulling the lace down, Junie uncovered the tops of her breasts, exposing her erect, dark pink nipples. She raked them with her fingertips.
With a flick, she undid the clasp between the cups. Hefting her bare breasts in her hands, she palmed and pushed them into her chest with a slow circular motion. Her hips started to churn.
She dabbed a finger in the olive oil and coated first one nipple, then the other. After dipping her other fingertips in the oil, she swirled them across both breasts. Dainty. I could see the oil shimmering on her tits as she lovingly massaged herself.
I started to unbuckle my jeans.
“Stop.” Her eyes were still closed as her fingertips brushed her tits and nipples.
Releasing a sigh, Junie wiped her fingertips on a paper towel. She unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down, revealing a black thong. Dropping her hands to her mound and to the ridiculously narrow strip of fabric nestled against her pussy, she slowly outlined her vulva with her fingers.
On my side of the kitchen, it was pure torture. I wanted to bury my face in her snatch and lick her to an orgasm. And then flip her over and fuck her senseless against the sink, making her scream and squeal.
“Junie …” I think there was desperation in my voice.
“Just watch.” Her eyes remained closed as she continued to outline her labia, swelling out on either side of the narrow fabric of the thong. Spreading her knees for better access, she reached between her legs, cupped her outer labia, and squeezed. Hooking the skinny straps of the thong with her thumbs, she pulled it down.
Her pussy, shaved earlier in the week for a romp on the dining room table, was fully exposed to me. She ran her fingers along rim of her outer lips, stroking them up and down in languid movements. Bending her knees, she moved a hand behind her ass and up between her legs to her cunt. She circled the entrance of her vagina with a finger.
“Michael, take the olive oil.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
I picked up the dish and retreated to my side of the kitchen.
She plunged a finger inside herself, while her other hand vigorously worked her clit. She leaned forward, face flushed, her tits slathered in olive oil and hanging down. I wanted to take them in my mouth and flick my tongue against her hard nipples.
“Drop your jeans.”
I pushed them down. My dick sprang out of my pants, pointing up at the ceiling fan. I slathered olive oil on my cockhead and pumped my engorged shaft with my other hand, smearing the oil down the length of my dick and on my scrotum. I was in an advanced state of excitement, my balls jammed to the base of my throbbing dick. My eyes were glued to Junie’s pussy….
Word count: 3,740
Get the deal: Making Michael Obey, a five-story compilation of Michael and Junie’s WTF sex (including this one): $3.99.
Word count: 12,000