Over Dinner

**I was in the kitchen, dressed in a simple sarong, wrapped around my waist for comfort. I was preparing our dinner and waiting for her to get home: hamburger was browning on our small gas stove, and bread was baking in the oven.  She must have gotten home early, when I heard the front door slam  A few moments later she stepped into the kitchen.

She was wearing her work outfit: flannel shirt unbuttoned, a sleeveless shirt on underneath. Her hair was cut short, but still mussed from her hard hat, which was tucked under her arm. I could see her nipples pressed against the white cotton of her undershirt. Just under her work belt, her pink cock poked out of her khakis.

She motioned with her chin, and I knew to turn around, over the stove. Placing my hands on either side of our cooking dinner, I felt my cock go firmly erect. Surreptitiously, I turned off the gas. The belt and hat hit the ground, and I felt her hands shove the sarong aside.

She leaned against me, her cock sliding up the crack of my ass as she did it. Her body pushed me down towards the burners as she reached over me. “Extra virgin,” she chuckled as she grabbed the bottle from the shelf over me. “As if.”

She chuckled to herself as she uncapped the bottle. I listened to the slippery noises of her masturbating the eight-inch dildo and felt myself get harder. Her oily hand pressed against my asshole, coating it and preparing me for her inevitable invasion.

I felt the tip of her cock press against my asshole.  One of her hands pressed against the small of my back, the other pulled my right ass cheek to the side. She slid inside me, and we moaned together.

“You like it when I fuck you, don’t you?” she whispered into my ear.

It wasn’t a question.

“You like it when your daddy comes home from work and takes your sissy little ass. Don’t you?”

She was above me, pounding into me, taking me. One of her hands circled around my waist and grabbed my hard, pulsing cock. “Oh yes you do, you do,” she said, laughing.

Dinner sizzled below me, even off the heat, and I grabbed the sides of the stove to keep her from pushing me into it as she f ucked my ass.  She pounded into me, slipping and sliding.  Her hand on my cock followed her rhythm, back and forth.

My knees grew weak as my arousal grew.  She slammed into me, and ground against me. I felt her shudder behind me as her orgasm caused her to clench all over.  Her hand on my cock squeezed painfully as I shot out my own orgasm, splattering cum against front of the oven.

I stood there in front of the oven, drained, unable to move yet. She slid off and out of me and tossed her cock in the sink. I heard her zip up her pants and start to walk out.

“Clean this shit up,” she said.  “And make my dinner. I’m fucking hungry.“**