Dinner

I imagine you coming home and being in the kitchen cooking for you.

In an apron.

It taking you a few minutes to notice that behind the counter, I'm in nothing but an apron.

Smiling a playful smile at you and inviting you to come "help me". But wanting to actually get dinner made.

My fantasies of you and I in these moments are so tangible to me.

I can imagine how you feel coming up behind me and pressing into me to let me feel how hard you are. Your warmth radiating out around you into me. Your hands, so sure and confident on my hips and your lips against my neck. I can imagine leaning my head back into you while I'm trying to keep my eyes on my work.

When I'm not using the knife to chop the veggies, I can almost feel your hand working between my legs. I can't describe to you properly just how wet I get...but I'll be very slick and your fingers will slide in easily no matter where they want to go.

But you'll stop when I need to use the knife, because as much as you enjoy hurting me for our pleasure, you don't want me to hurt myself...and I can feel your hand waiting patiently against my ass cheek or my lower back, waiting to resume your explorations.

Leaning against the counter and telling me about your day when I have to move to the stove, being able to move seamlessness from one moment to the next.

Once things are cooking, you unwrap your present and you make good, quick, hard use of me...rewarding me with the taste of your pre-cum and the smack of your hand reddening my ass as you fuck me.

You would give me your cum and I would clean your cock of our love-making, put on a robe, finish our dinner, and sit across from you while we enjoy it...both of us satisfied and grateful and loving one another and not taking even a second of it for granted.