Erotica Volume 3: The Foodies

He stood in the doorway.  He rubbed his penis through his boxers and pulled his eyes from  her face down to her thighs.  Her flesh was dark meat hanging off the bones like a Thanksgiving turkey.  He imagined carving into them with his toungue- layer upon layer of turkey meat falling from his face, surrounding him.  In his mind- he was in bed surrounded by the turkey meat.  I like the dark meat.  Pass the squash. He was overwhelmed by the desire to cover her in cranberry sauce.  He said: Do you have any cranberry sauce in the fridge?  I’d love to smother you in it.  It is fall after all.  She said: No I don’t but I do have nutella in the fridge.

His penis was as hard as frozen brocolli.  He thought about a recipe he once saw on a blog:

1/2 cup Nutella spread
1 large egg
5 tablespoons all=purpose flour
1/2 cup chopped hazelnuts

He thought about the eggs.  He was reminded of his lover’s breasts. Big juicy hardboiled eggs with nipples on top.  He forgot about the nutella and descended upon his lover’s breasts.  He whispered in her ear- something about eggs.  He licked her breasts over and over again- he mentioned ketchup under his breath.  His tongue ran up and down her breasts and he looked down between her legs.  The image of the Thanksgiving turkey penetrated his mental membrane.  He felt the tension between eggs and turkey tearing at the base of his being.  He tried to imagine a scramble with turkey and eggs, but he felt his manhood fading.  He said: What’s hotter for you, eggs or turkey?  She said: I’m not really into the food thing, that’s your deal.  I kinda just put up with it.

He decided on turkey and drove his head between her legs.  He gripped the outside of her thighs with his fingernails and ran his toungue up and down the inside of her legs.  She moaned in ecstasy and he thought of Thanksgiving again.  He was eating corn- kernel by kernel.  Each little ball, baked to perfection, fell out of his mouth and gathered at the base of his being.  In his mind, he gathered the kernels and imagined reheating them the next day.  I can improve upon the recipe with proper reheating. Overcome by sexual ecstasy, he plunged his hand deep into a vat of cranberry sauce.  He brought his hand, dripping in the red juices of homemade cranberry sauce, to his lips.  He rubbed the cranberries over every inch of his lips- he moaned low: squash, squash, squash, oh god, squash.

He felt his flesh become present in the moment.  He watched his lover’s hands grip his chin and bring his lips toward hers.  She demanded that he penetrate her- he obliged.  He was overcome by the image of a sharp knife cutting into the flesh of Kobe beef.  He saw the chef gently preparing the beef, the cow as a calf eating fine japanese grass.  The steak was juicy, it was cooked to perfection.  The side was potatoes.  They were so crispy on the outside, covered in herbs.  He thought about his teeth penetrating the crispy outer shell of the potatoes and slowly sinking into the infinite sea of flavor.  He thought of the side salad- pears, walnuts, feta- something started to boil in his blood.  He thought of the desert- a dark chocalate truffle infused with fresh rasberries- there was no stopping.  He finished the desert and reached for the mint and… an eruption of flavor from his turkey baster- it made him think of Thanksgiving again.  Exhausted, he rolled over and went to sleep.  He dreamed a four course meal that had no bottom.

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  1. wow….amazing

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