The Chef's Girlfriend

Leslie's eyes kept drifting from the cutting board to his girlfriend's body. She moved around the kitchen in nothing but a thin silk robe, her black hair cascading down her back, the fabric clinging to every curve. Each time she bent over to grab something from a lower shelf, the robe rode up just enough to remind him what waited underneath. She knew exactly what she was doing. The way she stretched, the way she glanced back at him with that half-smile. The competition could wait. He set down the knife. Walked over. His hands found her waist, pulled her against him. She pressed back, grinding slow against his cock already straining against his pants. No more teasing. He spun her around, pushed her forward over the counter, and yanked the robe up past her hips. His mouth found her first. Tongue working between her legs while she spread wider for him, moaning into the marble. She tasted like she wanted this all along. He licked deeper, then slid two fingers inside her, working her open while his tongue flicked at her clit. When she was wet enough, he stood, freed his cock, and pressed the head against her pussy. He pushed in slow, watching himself disappear inside her. She clenched around him. He fucked her steady at first, then harder, the slap of skin echoing against the kitchen tiles. She reached back and grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand lower. He understood. Pulled out, spit on his fingers, and worked them into her ass while she pushed back against him. He stretched her carefully, then lined up and eased his cock into that tight hole instead. She gasped, then moaned as he filled her. He fucked her ass with deep, deliberate strokes. Her fingers worked her clit while he held her hips steady. When he was close, he pulled out, flipped her around, and she dropped to her knees without being told. She took him into her mouth, tasting herself on him, sucking hard until he came across her face in thick ropes.