Sam (#9): Food, Love, Sex And Tom - Sex Stories

Sam (#9): Food, Love, Sex And Tom

... Tom grabs me and fills the hole and we rock around until a wet patch of our cum appears on the floor she thought.

Finally, Maestro Tom plated the bunny bits and its sauce with the Patatas to one side accompanied with a slide of steamed veg. Fresh Sangria accompanied the dish. The red of the cooked bacon contrasted with the orangey red of the sauce and the brown and white speckled Patatas.Feast for the eyes I mused. A bite of the rich, but gentle bunny slid down my throat and deep into my heart like a warm, relaxing embrace that turns you into heavenly blissfulness, only to be awakened by the salty zing as you crunch through a Patata then a sip of the sweet Sangria with its bits that gave a fruity zing. The process was repeated: hug, salty zing, citrus zing revival. Wave upon wave of pleasurable sensations like a weird, pleasant rolling orgasm, caught me as I ate through. I could see Sam had the same look on her face.

We discovered that his cupboards were stacked with jars whose contents bore no resemblance to the labels as he had reused them for the preserves he made. This was serious Country Boy stuff as neither Sam nor I could preserve.

The taste of his damson jam wassomething. It was sweet and had the richness of the small dark purple fruit that is hard, bitter, and inedible raw. But there wasn't the sickly sweetness that you get from some supermarket jams as he had added just enough sugar to make it sweet, but still retain some of the bitterness for balance. ...

... For me, this was like being hugged tight by someone you love deeply so that you feel every sinew of their body while engaging in a long, slow, and gentle French, with the occasional zings that went down me to my pussy as the random hits of bitterness were felt. Pure, sensual relaxation with occasional little orgasms to light me up.

His lemon marmalade is a story. It was made from the orange sized sweet lemons growing on his tree. He ran them through his food processor, which meant that you got odd, random sized chunks of peel in the final result, which I loved to bite on. Sugar, lemons, and water was the ingredient list. This was a recipe done by taste and memory, as by repeated taste he could bring the lemons to their perfect balance of acidity and sweetness and still set the marmalade. For me, a spoonful was the seeing mature warmth of the lemon colour, then you got that honed sweetness that was like a romantic hug interspersed with the gentle zing of someone doing a playful fingering.

On his bread, you bit through the smoothness of the marmalade, then onto pillow softness of the bread and the final zing. Pillow, hug, fingering. Repeat. Biting through a large, random chunk of unshredded peel was like a good 69-ing for me: I felt like I was getting zinged from below as I sucked on the moist marmalade and chewed on the hard cock.

Maestro was in his element with Lemon Curd. Supermarket stuff is usually radioactive yellow and sickly sweet. I made it once with the Baine ...