The Kitchen Karaoke Incident - Sex Stories

The Kitchen Karaoke Incident

... I even bought a lace-trimmed, white apron to wear. I planned to meet him at the door when he got home, with dinner on a set table, mood music playing, and to be wearing only the apron.

I quickly discovered that my culinary skills were so lacking that I couldn’t even prepare instant mashed potatoes correctly. My first attempt looked like runny, chunky jizz, and my second attempt looked like puffy wall insulation. I destroyed the first pieces of meat, creating some charred and blackened, rock-hard pieces of leather-like material that filled the kitchen with smoke and an ungodly stench. The salad, however, was a smashing success; I managed to open the bag of prepared salad and pour it into the bowl with minimal disaster.

An hour’s worth of cooking became more than three hours of damage control. His immaculate, pristine, and orderly kitchen became a disaster zone. Globs of food in various stages of being cooked littered every horizontal surface; all the cupboards and drawers were standing open from my frenzied quest to find this or that utensil, and smoke and the stench of burning food filled the air. I was a mess; his T-shirt was stained, and I even managed to singe the front of it on the stove. None of that bothered me; my internal clock had lost track of time, and I still thought I had hours.

I was dancing around the disaster of his kitchen, the stereo playing, and singing, off-key, to the music. The song, Magic Man, by Heart, played, and it seemed apropos. I was ...

... screaming out the lyrics at the top of my lungs, twerking my ass, and jumping around like the fool I am. My back was turned away from the front door, and, with the music so loud, I neither saw nor heard my boyfriend enter.

As I pranced through the chaos I’d created in the kitchen, I was flailing about to the rhythm, singing into the large, wooden spoon I’d been using to stir the swampy mashed potatoes. My exposed, nude ass was gyrating along with my swaying hips, and I threw my head back, red hair swirling about, and jumped into the air, turning around as I sang, “He’s a magic man, momma.”

Then, I saw him standing there, smiling, appraising me with an appreciative, lusty stare. I was so startled that I gave an ear-shattering yelp, and I hurled the spoon toward him.

“What the fuck are you doing home so early?” I scolded.

His eyes ran over my body; it seemed as if he’d never laid eyes on me before. His gaze drank in my facial features, my body, my braless tits, still bouncing with the nipples erect, my legs, and my exposed cunt. His visual admiration sent shivers through my body and sent my already heightened state of arousal into overdrive. Although I’d probably spent three or more hours masturbating that day, his sensual aura put me into an erotic daze. All I could think of was fucking him, right then and there.

“Enjoying the view,” he quipped, his voice dripping with innuendo that made my heart beat double-time.

Panicking, my eyes sought the apron. It was flung ...