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Pillow Stories

Hunger

by C. J. Black
(05/28/08)

"Are you hungry?"

He said it like he knew how much I wanted him right then. Damn it, if the arrogant SOB wasn't so hot, I'd tell him to fuck off.

"Yeah, sure." I leaned back a little on the stool and let my hands rest on the counter top. It was early evening and we'd spent the whole day in bed. I guess when you're a friggin CEO you can do things like that. Not that I'm complaining. I'd never say it to the old man but I was glad to be along for the ride. I mean, how many times does an average guy like me find himself in a deal like this?

Brian Ford. You've probably heard his name. A major player in the financial world and he just happens to sign my paycheck. If someone had told me I'd be his lover for more than a one-night stand I would have told them, "you've gotta be shitting me."

But here I was sitting in his kitchen wearing nothing but silk boxers. Yeah, he bought them for me. I didn't like it one damn bit. There's a word for people in my position. Damned if I thought I'd ever go that route. But hell, I'm not stupid either.

Brian didn't wait for me to answer his question. I was getting used to the fact that he was really big on deciding things for people but it still annoyed the living hell out of me.

He was cooking something up that smelled pretty good. The guy was good at everything. He reminded me of those chefs you see on TV, tossing vegetables in a sizzling pan, adding spices and oil and working with a knife like he was born to it. He grabbed a bag of nice-sized shrimp out of the fridge. He sliced off the skins and added them like it wasn't anything to have something that expensive and of course for him it wasn't. Just watching him do something as simple as cooking was an incredible turn-on. But that's me. I get hot on power and confidence.

Brian filled two plates with the shrimp and vegetables and I didn't even wait for him before stabbing one of the shrimp with my fork. It's not everyday a young upwardly-mobile guy like me gets to eat like this.

"There's something I want you to try." He turned away from the counter and his meal. I got a nice view of his ass in briefs as he walked to the other side of the kitchen. He had one of those portable wine coolers on the counter and every space in it was filled. I knew for a fact that some of them cost more than my rent each month. He chose a bottle of white and set it down on the counter in front of me.

"I've wanted you to try this," he said.

"French right?" I sounded like a total smart-ass and we both knew it. I got a high out of fucking with him this way. Trying to make like I thought his being rich and showing it was a pain in the ass.

And as usual he ignored my attempt. "Italian," He poured me a half glass and one for himself. Now that's something I just don't get. What's with the half glasses when it comes to drinking wine?

"Try it," he nodded to my glass so I took a drink.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's good. I like it."

"That's your only comment about it?"

"Well yeah. What more do you want?"

"What does it taste like?" He goaded me on. "Is it sweet, dry, fruity? 'It's good, I like it' doesn't tell me a damn thing. You said you wanted to learn and I'm trying to teach you something."

He's done this shit before. Coming off to me like I'm some pissant little kid. Yeah, I wanted to learn but did he have to act like I was a friggin twelve-year old? I didn't like it. "It's just wine. Take the stick out."

He gave me that squinty-eyed look that always tells me I've pushed his buttons. Trust me, that's not so bad a thing in the end. It usually gets results that I like. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"This is bullshit and you know it." I waved at the glass with the back of my hand.

"I'm aware of that, but some people get off on this type of thing." Brian's voice went an octave lower. "If you're going to play this game you need to get your shit together."

Now I was getting kind of pissed. "You think I need you to tell me what the hell's going on in the world, you old man?"

He came around the counter with a look on his face like he was going to beat the living crap out of me. "You little smart-ass. You like pissing me off don't you?" He dragged me off the stool and pressed me against the counter with his body. I didn't think there was any room between the two of us, yet he managed to get his hand in and cup my balls, giving them a squeeze that made me grunt.

His hand slid up and pressed against my dick and he stroked me through my boxers with the flat of his palm. He had me hard in a few minutes. The old bastard knew how to push my buttons. I'd learned a lot since we'd started fucking and not just about business. He liked things a little rough and damn it all, he knew I ate it up. I grabbed his face and kissed him, shoving my tongue in his mouth and working it hard, darting it all around to taste the wine on his tongue. I thought I had him, but as usual he took control. It pissed me off even more and made me hotter at the same time. I wanted to be in control just this once but he always knew how to turn the tables with me. I pulled away. I was breathing hard and said, "I'm not some damn submissive."

"If you want to be in control you have to work for it." Then he was kissing me again. His cock was rock-hard and he rubbed it up against me, while he kept at me. I bit him on the lower lip and that got a groan out of him but nothing more. If anything it just seemed to make him more aroused. He ground his hips into mine, practically lifting me off my feet. Damn, I tried not to scream his name but I couldn't help it.

"I'm going to teach you to respect your elders, little boy," he hissed in my ear.

"Damn it, teach me," I said. "Stop fucking around."

He turned me to face the counter and jerked my shorts down. He planted those big hands of his on my ass I felt him spread my cheeks and the next thing I knew his tongue was all inside me, licking and poking, rimming my anus. I ground out, "Dirty old man."

He laughed. He actually fucking laughed and kept right at it.

When I was half crazy and ready to shoot my load he pulled back, pushing down to lean me over the counter. It wasn't the most comfortable position but at that point I didn't care. He reached over me to the wine glass and dipped three fingers in it and pressed them against my mouth. "Suck them, boy."

I did. I fucked his fingers with my mouth as he pushed them in and out while he asked me what I thought of the wine. I wasn't thinking about the damn wine just then. The second time he dipped his fingers in the glass, he pushed them one at a time into my ass. I pushed back, driving his fingers in deeper as he worked them around.

"Shit yes," I forced the words between my teeth and slammed my fist on the counter. The glass tipped and spilled the wine all over. It was cold on my hands.

"Look at what you did." Brian pulled his fingers out of me and I felt the head of his dick push into me just as he smacked my ass. My hips jerked in reaction. I'd never been spanked and it felt damn strange. I didn't think I'd ever like something like this. Maybe Brian figured I didn't and I needed convincing, I don't know, but he chose that moment to shove his dick in me all the way and everything else went right out of my mind. I screamed again. Damn it, how the hell did he make me do that? Then he was ramming into me, working it around like he knew I liked it.

"Fuck yes, Brian -- please!" I hated begging like a wuss, but damn it all, he was the best fuck around. At least the best I've ever had. He grabbed my dick and started to jack me off at the same time and he was none too gentle about it.

"Have you had enough?" He demanded. "You want more? You want me to punish you?"

"Yes!"

He smacked my ass a few more times and it felt good. There was something about it that got me so hot I was almost ready to come.

"More." It wasn't enough as he worked himself in me and stung my ass with the palm of his hand. He caught me off guard when he reached one hand for my plate and plucked one of the shrimp off and pressed it against my mouth, forcing me to eat it. I licked the sauce off his fingers, running my tongue in between them until I had every last drop. The wine glass was next. He set it up and poured more wine with his free hand before lifting it to my mouth.

"Drink." It was like he was giving me an order with that one word.

It was weird, him asking me to do something like that while he fucked me but I did it. I drank while he didn't even miss a beat. The wine spilled down my chin and on my chest. His fingers dipped again and I sucked them off.

I've said before that being with him is like being burned alive. It was like being caught in a bad storm. I told him harder, harder and he obliged me. "Damn, Brian, this feels so fucking good!"

"I know," he said. "Then come for me."

When I did come, it hit me so hard I straightened away from the counter, back arching. He shoved me back down. He wasn't finished and it wasn't long before he was pounding against me and filling me with so much cum that when he finally pulled out I felt it running down my legs. It was all over me. I was embarrassed to see my cum all over the cupboard. If Brian was pissed about that he didn't say so. He turned me around and kissed me again. I could barely stand but he held me up. I couldn't figure it out -- he was still standing and I was about to fucking pass out. He'd been damn thorough.

Then he laughed again and collapsed against me. Guess the old man was done-in after all.

I reached behind me and dragged the glass across the counter, dipping my fingers in and I presented them to him. The way he sucked on them got me horny all over again. He knew, of course. The guy's a fucking mind reader. He gave me that arrogant grin of his when he saw my cock swelling. Even when he got on his knees and started to suck me off, he still had me. One finger went into my anus. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt. The way he could get me hard again almost immediately after an orgasm. The man had talent, I'll give him that. He swallowed my cock whole, drawing back, flicking his tongue over the head. One hand massaged my balls. It wasn't long before he pulled another orgasm out of me and had me screaming his name again.

That was pretty much it for me. I slid down the counter -- how have I heard it described, in an ungainly heap? Whatever, I was half-dead.

I'm glad to say Brian wasn't doing all that great either.

It was awhile before we both had the strength to get up. He kissed me. Come to think of it, he's a good kisser too.

"Let's get a shower," he said.

We took our time, lathering each other up. It was nice, I had to admit. I got to do him that time. I have to say I really enjoy seeing the way he reacts when I do. He may be the one in control but he doesn't try to hide it when he likes it.

We walked back to the kitchen. The food was cold. Brian picked up the plates.

"Still hungry?" I knew he wasn't talking about the food.

"Yeah," I wasn't talking about the food either.

"Of course you are." He grinned at me.

Smug bastard.

©2008 by C. J. Black

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CJ Black has been an author for over two decades and published short stories and a fantasy novel. Hoping to "expand her horizons" she began writing erotica and had a story accepted for the Better Sex Amatory Fiction Anthology. She is currently working on a full-length erotic fantasy novel. To learn more, visit her Web site.




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