True Sex Stories: The Chef Gets Rough In The Kitchen

The Chef had come over for a break in his Christmas shopping.  I fed him tea and cookies and warmed his icy cheeks.  I lay on him, feeling his breath lift my body, alternately warming and cooling my neck.

He slipped his hand into my jeans with seasoned familiarity.  He held me to him, wrapping my undulating body with his arms, pulsing and probing and flowing into me.  I rolled on his surface, buried in the rhythm of his fingers and my breath.  He was completely underneath me and around me.  My body touched nothing but his body.  I came, shuddering and whimpering softly.  He quieted my soft animal sounds with kisses and continued circling my clit.  I felt small and contained and I dizzily relinquished control.  He chose my orgasm, and drove me there quickly and gently.  I came again, more desperate this time, and squeezed his arms with all my strength.  He kissed my cheeks, my forehead, my eyes.  My muscles relaxed and I melted back into him.

Later we were in the kitchen.  I kissed him and he grabbed my nipples through my shirt, hard.  I squeaked, and kissed him again.  He pulled them up and then down, chuckling as I winced and giggled and gasped and moved my body to accommodate him.  He unzipped his fly with one hand and pinched my nipple hard with the other.  He yanked down on me and I knelt in front of him.  His cock was bare and hard and I immediately took as much of him as I could into my mouth.

I had no desire this time to tease.  I wanted him in me- as deep as I could- and I want to make him come.  I sucked him and slurped his cock, hand gripped around his shaft.  I knew my roommate Carlos was upstairs, but figured I would hear him if he were to come down.

The Chef grabbed my hair hard and shoved my face onto him.  I felt his cock at the back of my throat, pushing hard and blocking my air.  I loved it- loved his domination of me and his trust to bring me to this place.  When he let up I gasped for breath and looked up at him, smiling and with watery eyes.

I swallowed him up again and he lifted my hair, more gently this time.  I felt a welcome SMACK on my cheek as he slapped me.  I closed my eyes and reeled in this new sensation.  I've discovered  I love it when he slaps me.  I don't want it from anyone else, but I loooove the sting of his hand on my face.

I didn't drop a beat- kept licking him and sucking him and pumping his shaft.  He slapped me again, and then again, harder each time.  He grabbed my hair on both sides of my head and fucked my mouth.  At first I tried to suck but I was worried I would scrape him with my teeth, so I slowed my own motion and just let him fuck me.  It made a terrible slurpy noise, and I remembered that erotic humiliation from earlier.  This was different though- for some reason I felt very in control, and so happy about being able to make his cock feel good that my own dignity didn't even cross my mind.

He stopped and slapped me again.  I had never been so turned on during a blow job.

I pulled back a little and steadied his hips.  I licked the underside of his cock.  I love that vein- the bulging thick line that yields to a pointed tongue.  I lapped at his balls, sucking them into my mouth one by one.  I nestled my nose into the crease of his groin, breathing in his musky scent.  I licked the underside of his cock slowly with a broad, wet tongue.  I swirled lightly around the circumference of his head, then around the top in soft quick circles.

I stuck my tongue out flat and he rubbed the head of his cock against it.  I looked up at him, unable to control my grin.  He smiled down at me, possessive and turned on.  He slapped me.  I didn't flinch.  My eyes never left his.

He started to stroke himself harder and I licked his balls with fervor.  He moaned, grunted, clenched.  I took the head of his cock into my mouth as he came.  I swallowed every drop of his come, and sucked him gently, getting every last drop and then some for good measure.

He helped me up and buried me into his chest.  I smelled him- his soft sweater that smelled like winter, and his deodorant.  He kissed me, grinning.

I left the next day for a vacation.  I was hungry for his cock and for his hand across my cheek, again. 

Republished with permission from On Intimacy. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.