“Say Lana. Don’t suppose you feel like a little baking?”
My reply is a smile of surprise and delight and his eyes seem to light up at my silent response. I haven’t baked in years, since I was a child at my grandmother’s house.
“Sure, though I’m a little out of practice,” I admit.
He grins smugly for a second like he’s pleased to have the upper-hand. “Bet you’d be a quick learner though...” he adds, running a hand through his thick dark hair, involuntarily grooming himself for the baking class.
“Well, I’d be more than happy to try...under the vigilance of a gifted teacher...” I hear myself flirt.
“Do you have any plans for tonight?” he enquires.
“Well, judging by this snow I’m not going to get very far...” I acknowledge.
“Good...then maybe you wouldn’t mind lending me a hand...” he concludes, offering his perfectly manicured outstretched hand to me.
As my hand touches the stranger’s, I feel a surge of electricity flash through my body and as we walk hand in hand through the café, I wonder what this handsome man wants to cook up.
He leads me into the kitchen, where I am immediately struck by the heat. I think about stripping off a layer and he seems to read my mind.
“Hope you don’t mind if I make myself a little more comfortable...” he questions, starting to unfasten the apron protecting his clothes.
“Not at all, Jack,” I reply, unable to take my eyes off him as I watch him relieve himself of the extra layer. Not quite satisfied, he starts to pull the long-sleeved top he’s wearing over his head. As this seems to happen in slow motion, I am treated to the sight of his firm abdominals as his t-shirt rides a little high. He notices my stare and adds, with feigned awkwardness,
“Don’t worry, that’s where the striptease ends... for now...” He accompanies this with a playful wink.
I don’t know what to make of this, so I laugh it off. I’m unsure how to read his expression, but I think he looks a little hurt; maybe he’s being serious after all.
“So Lana, before we get started... we really should protect those clothes. I’ve got just the job,” he promises, fumbling in a nearby drawer and pulling out a pretty pink apron.
“It’s really not necessary,” I insist, but he’s not listening to me.
Instead, he comes up behind me and orders me to stand still. I obey, freezing as he puts it gently over my head, lifting my hair so that I feel the stroke of his fingers on the back of my neck. I can’t help myself, I am starting to feel very turned on in his presence.
“Thanks, that’s fine,” I say, needing to regain my personal space and a little calm, but he’s still not finished.
“Just a second...” he instructs, and I feel his hands brush almost imperceptibly over my firm buttocks, catching the apron strings and tying me up quickly. Was that deliberate?
“We’re ready,” he announces. “How about a drink while we work?”
“That’d be lovely thanks,” I accept, “I always have a glass of wine when I’m cooking. It helps me relax...”
“In that case, I have just the wine for you...” He pulls out a bottle containing a deep red liquid and I know it’s going to be delicious. He reaches for two long-stemmed wine glasses and serves us with elegance and style, presenting the glass to me with a certain sense of satisfaction.
Without hesitation, he brings his glass to mine.
“Let’s make a toast... to cooking up a storm with the most delightful of strangers!” he says with a broad smile.
I raise my glass to his, unsure of what I should understand by this. The high-pitched clinking sound of our glasses signals my release; I will at last be free to calm my nerves with some alcohol. He watches me intently as I take my first sip, eager to know if it meets my standard.
The wine is smooth to sip, leaving a slight musky edge on the palette. I am seduced by his fine taste in wine.
“It’s delicious thanks,” I reassure.
“So, Lana... all I really know about you is that you like chocolate. So how about we make some chocolate muffins whilst you tell me a whole lot more...” he ventures.
“That sounds good to me...” I agree, taking another sip and starting to feel rather intoxicated by the heat, the wine and the baker himself.
I watch him as he starts to busy himself in preparation of what is to come, watching his expert hands weigh out the ingredients. He cracks the eggs skilfully, turning his head for my praise. I am laughing now.
“Think it’s easy do you?” he jokes. “Well, let’s see how you crack an egg Miss Lana...”
I am giggling now. He certainly knows how to break the ice.
“Come here...” he summons. “Show me what you can do!”
He hands me the egg and so I put down my wine to attend to the task at hand.
“Easy!” I reply, with mock arrogance. I speak too soon, for half the shell enters the cup.
We crack up with laughter.
“Not quite as easy as it may seem, I think you’ll agree!”
Our laughter subsides and we start to weigh out the ingredients. More precisely, he stands behind me giving commands.
“Are you always this bossy?” I dare to ask.
“I like to take control sometimes... especially when I dominate a subject...”
Though I’ve managed to control myself up to this point, I’m starting to feel very excited at the utterance of such words. I can feel myself starting to respond to his flirtation; I am getting slightly wet and wondering what his body would feel like under those clothes.
“Tell me Lana, as I can see you’re not a professional egg-cracker, what do you do for a living?” he goes on.
“I’m a writer,” I chuckle.
He stops his mixing, putting down the spoon for a second. “A writer... wow, very creative indeed...”
“I try...” replies my modesty.
“I wonder if you will ever write about tonight?” his audacity goes on, the alcohol clearly helping.
“If it’s memorable enough...” I retort.
“Is that a challenge, Lana?”
“Perhaps so...”
I am hypnotized as I watch his biceps in motion, whipping together the ingredients for our chocolate creations. He looks like he works out a lot.
“Do you go to the gym?” I enquire.
“Yes...” he replies... “I like a good workout...” he seems to linger on the last word. “Though I have to say, my arm’s aching a little now, would you mind taking over for a while?”
“Of course...”
I put down the almost-empty wine glass, and find myself gravitating closer to him, so that I can feel his body heat as he stands by my side. He smells divine too... a curious mixture of sweetness and of a muskier, more masculine scent. I am drawn to him.
I start to beat the mixture with all my might.
“May I show you?” he offers.
“Yes...” I respond, in something close to dismay.
I needn’t feel dismayed though, for this is a ploy to get close to me. He comes up behind me, taking my hands in his. He’s hot to the touch and I shiver with my desire for this man, as his body presses against me. With my left hand we hold the bowl tightly and with my right hand we start to beat the mixture with an unrelenting vigour.
“Very good,” he practically whispers into my ear, encouragingly. “Now you’re really learning.”
I can’t be sure, but the fine cloth of his uniform seems to allude to a hardness pressing against me. I am by now reeling with lust.
Suddenly and without any warning, the lights go off in what has to be a power-cut. We stand in the darkness, stunned by this turn of events. Though I can’t physically see him, I can perceive him with every fibre of my body.
“The snow, I guess...” he says in hushed tones. “I’ll get some candles.”
He leaves my side for a second and fumbles for some tealights and matches, groping around and accidentally skimming his hand over my
hips in search of a drawer. A few minutes later, candlelight flickers through the room and we eye each other up conspiratorially.
“Looks like our class has been brought to a standstill...” I joke.
In spite of the poor illumination, his gaze is burning down in me.
“Well Lana...remember what you did when you made chocolate muffins as a kid?”
He doesn’t wait for my reply. I watch him for a second as he takes a spoon and delves it into the creamy mixture. He pulls it back out with a brazen look upon his face.
“Feel like a little chocolate?” he asks, bringing the spoon so tantalisingly close to my lips. My reaction is involuntary; my lips part to allow for his entrance and I get my first taste of the sweetness that is in store for tonight. I suck the spoon clean and cannot help but verbalise a little moan of appreciation for what I’m being so generously fed.
“That taste good?” he asks rhetorically.
“Yes,” I admit, “that tasted divine.”
“My turn,” he declares, handing the spoon over to me. I know that I’m going to have to feed him and I relish this prospect.
I feel my hand dipping the spoon into our creation and drawing out the chocolate carefully, like it were gold. He approaches me, so that his face is centimetres from mine. He places his hand over mine, so as to guide me into his mouth. Something then happens; I don’t know whether it’s deliberate or not.
“Oh Lana, look what you’ve done,” he jokingly chastises, running a finger down the chocolate-stained t-shirt. “We really can’t let this chocolate go to waste,” he adds, running a finger to catch the sugary pleasure.
“Who’s going to eat this now?” he teases.
I gravitate to his finger. I am unable to resist the magnetism. I take his hand in mine and I begin to lick it tentatively, working up to lapping strokes of the tongue, before I finally take his finger deeper into my mouth. My tongue twirls and swirls around him, unable to satiate my desire for his sweetness.
“Mmnnn... you taste so good,” I tell him, releasing his finger and taking a sip of wine.
“You know how it would taste even better...” he whispers to me.
I know what he’s thinking, but I’m stunned by fear and desire, so I am temporarily rendered speechless.
He continues, “I’m in a dirty t-shirt... and, well, it’s very hot in here with all the candles. Would you mind if I made myself more comfortable?”
I shake my head to show him that no, I wouldn’t mind at all. With that, I’m treated to the beginning of a striptease. He raises his simple white t-shirt over his head, revealing inch after inch of bronzed firmness that shimmers under the candlelight.
“Wow,” is the admiration that escapes my ever-watering mouth, hungrier than ever for what is to ensue.
He’s standing dangerously close to me now and I can feel the heat radiating from his semi-naked torso.
“So far all the pleasure has been yours... is it my turn now?” he asks, with mock innocence.
“I guess so,” I admit, feeling a current of adrenalin rushing through me.
“Well, I’m going to take a little chocolate,” he begins, loading a generous quantity onto the spoon. “And then I’m going to... oooops!” Accidentally, yet very much on purpose, he spills the contents of the spoon onto my neck and very slowly it starts to melt, trickling to the space between my breasts.
“Quick Lana!” he feigns urgency. “Take the dress off before it’s too late.”
We both begin to giggle at the audacity of his scheme, but as his eyes stay glued to mine, I realise it’s no joke. By now I’m desperate for him. I feel incredibly turned on by this most playful of strangers, so I shrug the dress off my shoulder and he watches intently as it falls to my breasts. I stay motionless for just a second, feeling his burning gaze willing the dress to dip a little further. I hear him gasp as I wriggle the dress over my breasts, revealing my voluptuousness encased in a black satin bra.
“You’re beautiful,” he gushes.
“Thanks,” I blush with modesty, grateful to the darkness for concealing my shyness. I slide my dress down to my feet and his eyes follow the path, tiptoeing over the flat of my stomach, down the length of my heel-accentuated legs and finally back up to the place where I need his attention, my ever-glistening pussy. His eyes seem to linger on the black satin covering my desire and I wonder what is going through his mind.
“May I eat the chocolate now?” he asks, putting his arms around me and pulling me close.
“Be my guest,” is the only utterance time will allow, before I feel his tongue sweeping down between my breasts, licking softly to begin and verbalising the pleasure he is taking in the chocolate... or me. My nipples harden in response to the proximity of his tongue and I secretly imagine him sucking them right there. Very quickly he moves off the chocolate route, for his tongue is working its way to my neck, where it places soft and delicate kisses as it explores this sensitive spot. I throw my head back in direct response to such tantalisingly sweet stimulation and I feel his hand running through the thickness of my dark curls, tugging them slightly to access every inch of my skin.
“That feel good?” he whispers into my bejewelled ear.
“Yes,” I purr.
“Then how about this?” He moves to my lips, parted in anticipation of the meeting of his. We exchange chocolate kisses, our tongues eager to find each other. The alcohol and the pure intoxication of the moment take away all our inhibitions as the kiss becomes faster and more frantic. I feel the firmness of his torso against mine and my fingers run down the smooth skin of his long back. In turn, his hands slide over my curves, unclasping my bra, lingering over my breasts and pinching my nipples slightly. He makes his way down the small of my slightly arched back to my buttocks, where his hands grope the bounty he has found. He gasps at the smooth feminine roundness under his trembling fingers and this is just too much for him. He lifts me up onto the counter on which we had been working, never leaving my lips. He pulls away from me slightly to lay me down, so that I am sprawled across his work space, totally naked save for the ever-moistening satin pants.
“I want to taste you,” he states, neither asking nor demanding, simply stating his intention. The fact that he’s taking control is exciting me immensely and I smile sexily at him as he begins to lower my pants. I feel his eyes taking in the splendour of my smooth, shining pussy and he involuntarily licks his lips with desire.
Seconds later he spreads my long legs further apart, so that he can begin his task. He starts by placing soft kisses all the way down from my belly button close to the top of my pussy. I’m sure he must be able to smell my lust by now. I am suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of shyness, but as he opens me up so gently and takes a soft but firm lap at my wetness, his eyes meet mine in what can only be described as carnal wanting and I relax, opening myself further to him in offering. He starts with my clitoris, encircling it with the tip of his tongue.
“That’s amazing...” I whisper.
He continues, this time sucking it very gently between his lips and entering a finger into me. I feel his intake of breath in response to my wetness, though his mouth never leaves my pussy. He starts to move his finger inside me rhythmically, fucking me at a slow but non-relenting pace and all I can think about now is his cock and how it will feel inside of me.
I reach down to try to find it, but he takes my hands in his, pushing them behind my head and assuring me, “Just a second, I need you really wet.”
With that his finger leaves me and is instead replaced by his tongue. He thrusts it into me now, the gentleness and good manners are gone and I start to scream out in ecstasy. As he fucks my soaking pussy with his tongue, he plays with my engorged clitoris and I begin to come so very hard. My body is arched and I glue my sex to his mouth until my orgasm begins to subside. He busies himself lapping up my sweet juices, before declaring, “I think you’re ready now Lana...”
With that, he unzips and his readily awaiting cock springs out.
Even in the candlelight, I am able to make out its shimmering head and I know that he too is desperate for attention.
“Just a second,” I instruct, jumping down from the counter. It is then that I really see his manhood in its glory. Large, swollen with intent and ready to be engulfed in my waiting heat. I instinctively drop to my knees like a subject before her master and I part my lips, preparing myself for his entrance.
“Please Lana...” is all he has to say before my tongue is outstretched and my hand is drawing his cock forward to get my first taste of him. My tongue dances softly over the weeping head, picking up pace and beginning to twirl and swirl around him. He moans with pleasure and is eager to get deeper into my mouth, thrusting himself into me as a prelude for what is to come. I oblige willingly, letting him fuck my mouth, deeper and deeper with each lustful thrust.
With so much foreplay, we have an intense need for mutual climax. He is on the brink of this; I can tell by his breathing. I have the urge to feel him inside me. He seems to know this, as he takes me by the hands and pulls me to my feet. Once I’m standing, we wraps his arms around me and envelops me in a passionate kiss, before twirling me around once again so that I’m now leaning over the counter, buttocks in the air.
The sight of my ass exposed to him in this way thrills him; he runs his hands over it, before giving it a playful little slap.
“I need to take you, Lana.” Again, this is not him asking permission, just simply informing. I feel my stomach flip at the realisation that finally I’m going to feel him inside. His warm hands spread my legs even further apart and one hand is resting on my hip as he guides himself into me. The width of his cock fills me tight and I can feel myself contract with pleasure against his size. He begins to fuck me slowly, so slowly that in fact this feels much more like making love. As he moves inside me almost painfully slowly, his hands cup my full breasts and squeeze them tight. I know he’s trying to distract himself from his imminent climax. His hands slide down my trembling body and his fingers work my pulsating clitoris and I too am on the edge as his thrusts become quicker and more determined. By now his hands have moved to my toned ass and are holding me tight, so that I can’t wriggle out of any pleasure. I am burning with the friction of this movement and I start to come hard just as I feel him shaking.
Tales of Lust and Magic Page 7
