Chapter 7 7

"I have a chef who usually comes on monday to prepare an array of meals for the week."

I quickly got on the stool in his kitchen, looking for nothing in particular. I never knew I was unconsciously manifesting my next move.

"Interesting.." I said, turning my bubble butt his way so he has a better view of my pussy lips.

"What are you doing up there? I thought we could sit and have a bite to eat first. I'm starving, and moreover I feel like a very bad host obliging you to help make dinner" he said as he leaned up and plucked me off the stool.

I let myself be as he helped me down he brought me against him, it was so close, very close to himself to the point my nipples rubbed against his macho rock hard chest through the cotton night wear he got me that evening.

I moaned softly at the electric sensation of his nipples kissing his chest through my nightie.

My breasts were tangible, so tangible enough that I didn't bother wearing any piece of clothing or brassier underneath, but this meant he could almost see my hungry brown nipples through my nightie.

My nipples were hard from all the naughty things I had been thinking as we had been up in each other's faces all day and I knew he had felt them brush against his chest. I was very sure of that.

Damn, I imagined the rhythm of his strokes when he would be deep inside me, combined with his masculine appeal and by gracious goodness lord, i was dripping wet and slippery down there.

I stood next to him, and for a moment we just stared at each other like he was reading the forbidden pages of my mind.

To add to the drama, I reached and lifted my wavy dark hair off my neck and fanned my nape giving him a lush premium view of the roundness of my breast.

He openly watched as my breasts jiggled while I fake fanned myself.

"Is your Air conditioner on?" I asked.

"Yes it is but at a low volume, I can go turn it up if you want?" He asked, his small eyes actually looked and washed all over me. It felt as though my fanning was having no affect.

"Okay please, turn it up" I said, salaciously and very weakly, like a dying cat.

This was more me manifesting a raunchy fantasy I had been daydreaming about; to have a proper man fuck me to the deepest depth of eternal damnation on a luxurious kitchen island.

Charles was that man.

It was this fantasy that had got me through those long lonely nights writing tasteles blog posts and wishing I had gone to beg Richard so we could go back to the era of fucking my brains out. Was I on glue or was something going to happen.

I watched him walk off to the sitting, his nicely muscle ass squeezing the tempting black shorts he had on. How can a man in his fourties be this hot?

After we had dinner, we went back to the sitting room and he switched on his Netflix while I prayed to the gods of those ferocious twitter netflix and chill, to give me this one night of bliss.

We were barely a few minutes into the movie, when I stylishly snuggled up his open arms, he smelt like heaven. Jeez!

He poured me a glass of wine, while I was still snuggled up his tree trunk thighs, I could the print of his semi erect dick but acted like I had seen nothing.

This whole time my vagina throbbed endlessly.

A particular scene came on screen, a passionate one, and it was though we were working in motion together, when I looked up and next minute, our lips were tightly pressed against each other.

I moaned into his mouth like a dirty little slut and pulled away, apologizing for my mistake. He did not respond.

We ate the small chops on the table, saying little next to nothing, but enjoying the silence. It wasn't awkward, maybe cause we were total strangers get to know each other through a mutual figure (olivia); it was more of a lazy arousal, as we both knew what the other was thinking.

He knew what I was think, and at this point I was certain that he knew that I knew what was going through his mind and I was just waiting for him to be the man.

To take charge and batter this pussy beyond redemption.