7 of 100 - Make Me a Salad

WARNING - MILD EROTICA FOLLOWS WITH ADULT CONTENT. JUST SAYIN' . . .

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“Make me a salad.”

She says this and looks across the large island anchored to the floor between the walls of cabinets and countertops. She sits on one of the high chrome bar stools lined up across the back side of the island. She has chosen the middle barstool, centering herself. Turned just enough to allow her feet to rest on the seat of stool next to her, her legs bend sharply, forming upside down vees of flesh. Her hands are linked behind her head as she leans back, allowing the front legs of the stool to rise ever so slightly from the floor. She is naked.

He stands across from her, the three foot width of the island between them. He’s just asked her what she would like to eat. He smiles broadly at her request, and turns to the massive chrome refrigerator behind him. She can’t keep herself from admiring his firm ass and feels herself beginning to moisten. He swings the door open and begins to pull out the ingredients he will need: fresh spring greens, newly picked asparagus, whole mushrooms, a container of small red tomatoes, and a large, knobby cucumber.

“You grew some of that, didn’t you?” she asks as he sets the items on the granite countertop and nods. “I love fresh, homegrown veggies.” She pulls her arms from behind her head and leans forward to reach across the expanse of the island. Her breasts fall against the cool smoothness of the polished granite, and her nipples harden at the feel of the stone. She allows her hands to slide smoothly across to the veggies, colorfully sitting as if posing for still life. “God, I love the feel of this stone.”

Turning back toward her, he sets the jar of dressing next to the vegetables and reaches for her hands. Lifting each, he turns them over to examine her palms, then brings them to his mouth and he kisses first one and then the other, moving his lips lightly over the creased skin. He allows his tongue to lick along first one lifeline and then the other, then sets them gently back down.

“I’ll never get you fed if I don’t focus here,” he scolds and turns to the sink. She fingers first the asparagus, then the tomatoes. She cups the cool, tight skinned tomato, marveling how it feels so firm when whole but will burst with juicy seeded pulp once cut, and she fingers the heads of the asparagus, running the tips of her fingers over the stacked, orderly points of green. She then lets her hand find the cucumber, stroking its length, enjoying the similarity she finds there – just minutes before it was his cock she stroked. She smiled.

“This is almost as nice to hold as you are,” she says as he washes each vegetable, stacking them, clean and ready, in a chrome colander. The warmth and color of the vegetables, and the tones of their skin, stand out in bright relief in his chrome and black kitchen. The first time she’d seen it, she had been amazed how welcoming something made of all hard metals and monochrome accents could feel.

He turns from the sink, reaching for the black dishtowel hanging from the hook on the end of the island, drying his hands, and setting them, flat palmed, on the black granite. He leans forward, across the expanse, and kisses her lightly on the lips. “That was entirely too easy,” he says. “Cucumbers as dicks? You can’t get more clichéd than that.” He keeps his mouth close to her lips, and his warm breath, smelling of her pussy, fills her senses. She leans forward for another kiss, but he instead puts a finger to her lips and slowly kisses her chin, sliding down to suck ever so slightly at her neck and the small hollow at the base of her throat.

She feels her body imperceptibly moving toward him, everything straining for more contact. He pulls away and comes around the end of the island, moving behind her stool. She lets the front legs drop to the floor, and her knees fall open just a bit as she leans back toward him. He reaches her and, staying behind her, slides his hands along her sides from armpit to the rounded curves of her ass. His touch is slow, leisurely, unhurried. He lingers with his hands cupping her ass, and leans into her to kiss the back of her neck, sliding his lips from there down each knob of her vertebrae until he reaches the small of her back. He pulls his mouth away but leaves his hands warmly holding her.

“Oh baby,” she breathes, feeling her heart beating and leaning back against his torso. She feels the shaft of his cock against her back, and she begins to turn toward him.

He stops her. “No. Wait,” he says, and he picks her up, sliding one hand up her back and the other under her knees. Holding her against his body, he kisses her again. She takes his nipple between her lips and sucks it gently, then moves her hands up around his neck. She again notices the hard of his cock against her skin and she moans slightly.

“Wait,” he says again, and he walks around the island and then lifts her onto the granite. He lays her down gently, setting her ass and back down first, then disengaging her arms from around his neck. “Wait.” He then takes her legs, one at a time, and straightens them out on the cold, deceptively porous surface. Running his hands down those legs, he admires them. “You are so beautiful,” he says and he leans to kiss the soft insides of her thighs. She jumps, and then allows her legs to part just so much.

He kisses each leg all the way from thigh to ankle, then kisses her feet and toes. “You have beautiful feet, “ he says and she arches her back with pleasure. He pulls away and looks at her slowly, taking her in with his eyes. He reaches for the lettuce and pulls a handful out, then drops it slowly over her breasts, her belly, her cunt. The coolness of the leaves shocks her system, and she involuntarily jumps. Taking a small tomato, he rubs the tight skin of the fruit across her belly, sliding it down through her pubic hair to rub it on her erect clit. He then leans toward the tomato, raises it just off her clit to his mouth and bites into it, splattering her clit, her thighs, and the wet opening between them. He slowly licks the pieces of meat, seed, and juice from her body, lingering just a few extra moments as he sucks the juices from her clit.

Straightening, he reaches for the asparagus. He had blanched it earlier in the day, so the green is vibrant and the stalks are a little flexible in their firmness. Pulling a few stalks from the bunch, he trails the small heads over her breasts and nipples. He runs along the small concaves of her armpits, and down her sides. He slides them along the hollow where her legs meet her torso, and then slides them toward her waiting pussy. Dipping them into her waiting wetness, he bends to again suck her clit. He pulls them back out, wet with her cum, and sucks the taste of her from the stalks.

She watches as he works. His cock is always within inches of her, but she stays still, her hands grabbing the edge of the countertop. When his cock rubs against her knuckles, she reaches to stroke him, but he stops her.

“This is for you,” he says. “I want to make you a salad.” And he reaches for the mushrooms.