head. Legions of men, the caveman
included, cheered as I said, “Morning, sweetheart.”
The look of indulgent gratitude and approval that she
bestowed sent a surge of adrenaline through me. I started to think that I might
live after all.
“I’ll make breakfast,” she chirruped and pranced from the
bed.
I slumped back down and drifted, more or less comatose,
while I considered the possibility that women, some of them at least, have a
vampire gene that enables them to feed on the life energy of males. Now that I
thought about it, that would explain a lot.
My reverie was interrupted by the smells coming from the
kitchen. Coffee and…
Bacon?
Bacon!
Oh, shit, she really wasn’t playing fair.
The smell, setting off sparks deep in my limbic system, was
enough to revive me. I stumbled from the bed, managed to stand upright under
the shower for several minutes, and dragged on the first clothes that came to
hand.
On the threshold of the 1950s style kitchen, I stopped cold.
Emma was standing at the stove, carefully turning strips of bacon.
She needed to be careful because she was wearing nothing but a frilly little
apron covered with red and white polka dots. That and an all-over blush.
Her gorgeous tits were bare as was her sweet ass and those
long legs I wanted wrapped around me—
My cock twitched.
What in living hell? Was it trying to kill me?
Was she?
“Uh…Emma…?”
She turned her head and smiled at me with a combination of
innocence and sensuality that almost drove me to my knees. “Are you hungry?”
she asked.
Starving, baby. Come here and I’ll show you.
I didn’t say that, of course. Instead, suave devil that I
was, I just gaped at her until she raised an eyebrow. Then I managed to mutter,
“Yeah…bacon…”
“I’m making eggs, too. How do you like yours?”
Whichever way’s quickest.
I ran down a mental list of all the places in the apartment
where I wanted to fuck her besides the kitchen. The screening room, for sure, the
living room in front of the fireplace, bent over the dining room table, in the
over-sized wing chair in the library, and—
Good thing it was still the weekend because--
My brain suddenly rebooted. Since it hadn’t been heard from
in a while, it had a few things on its mind, starting with the fact that I was
a man, not a beast. Have a little pride, if I would, not to mention some of
that control I kept harping about.
In short, man up, enjoy breakfast and the view, but
re-establish exactly who was in charge.
She was—
I ignored my cock trying to chime in and said, “Scrambled,
please. How about I set the table?”
She agreed with another smile but I was pleased to see that
she kept an eye on me as I moved farther into the kitchen. Under that veneer of
playful sexiness she looked a little uncertain.
I didn’t hesitate to take advantage of that.
Gathering up plates and utensils, I brushed against her a
couple of times, just light touches that sent little electrical jolts through
me. And apparently, through her as well.
Generally, it’s men who can’t keep their arousal secret but
for once I had the advantage. Emma’s nipples hardened delightfully whereas I
managed to keep my cock in my pants, if barely.
She was sufficiently flustered by the time we were ready to
sit down that I thought she might try sneaking off to put on more clothes.
Before that could occur to her, I said, “You have to know this is on my Top Ten
Sexual Fantasy list.”
The flush that crept over her cheeks made me grin.
“What is?” she asked softly as she took the chair I held out
for her.
I dropped a light kiss on her bare shoulder, took the quiver
that ran through her as my due, and sat down across from her.
“You,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Gorgeous, naked
except for that little apron, in the kitchen, making me breakfast.”
She regained a little of her confidence and smiled in turn.
“I thought it had a nice 1950s vibe to it, in keeping with the
included, cheered as I said, “Morning, sweetheart.”
The look of indulgent gratitude and approval that she
bestowed sent a surge of adrenaline through me. I started to think that I might
live after all.
“I’ll make breakfast,” she chirruped and pranced from the
bed.
I slumped back down and drifted, more or less comatose,
while I considered the possibility that women, some of them at least, have a
vampire gene that enables them to feed on the life energy of males. Now that I
thought about it, that would explain a lot.
My reverie was interrupted by the smells coming from the
kitchen. Coffee and…
Bacon?
Bacon!
Oh, shit, she really wasn’t playing fair.
The smell, setting off sparks deep in my limbic system, was
enough to revive me. I stumbled from the bed, managed to stand upright under
the shower for several minutes, and dragged on the first clothes that came to
hand.
On the threshold of the 1950s style kitchen, I stopped cold.
Emma was standing at the stove, carefully turning strips of bacon.
She needed to be careful because she was wearing nothing but a frilly little
apron covered with red and white polka dots. That and an all-over blush.
Her gorgeous tits were bare as was her sweet ass and those
long legs I wanted wrapped around me—
My cock twitched.
What in living hell? Was it trying to kill me?
Was she?
“Uh…Emma…?”
She turned her head and smiled at me with a combination of
innocence and sensuality that almost drove me to my knees. “Are you hungry?”
she asked.
Starving, baby. Come here and I’ll show you.
I didn’t say that, of course. Instead, suave devil that I
was, I just gaped at her until she raised an eyebrow. Then I managed to mutter,
“Yeah…bacon…”
“I’m making eggs, too. How do you like yours?”
Whichever way’s quickest.
I ran down a mental list of all the places in the apartment
where I wanted to fuck her besides the kitchen. The screening room, for sure, the
living room in front of the fireplace, bent over the dining room table, in the
over-sized wing chair in the library, and—
Good thing it was still the weekend because--
My brain suddenly rebooted. Since it hadn’t been heard from
in a while, it had a few things on its mind, starting with the fact that I was
a man, not a beast. Have a little pride, if I would, not to mention some of
that control I kept harping about.
In short, man up, enjoy breakfast and the view, but
re-establish exactly who was in charge.
She was—
I ignored my cock trying to chime in and said, “Scrambled,
please. How about I set the table?”
She agreed with another smile but I was pleased to see that
she kept an eye on me as I moved farther into the kitchen. Under that veneer of
playful sexiness she looked a little uncertain.
I didn’t hesitate to take advantage of that.
Gathering up plates and utensils, I brushed against her a
couple of times, just light touches that sent little electrical jolts through
me. And apparently, through her as well.
Generally, it’s men who can’t keep their arousal secret but
for once I had the advantage. Emma’s nipples hardened delightfully whereas I
managed to keep my cock in my pants, if barely.
She was sufficiently flustered by the time we were ready to
sit down that I thought she might try sneaking off to put on more clothes.
Before that could occur to her, I said, “You have to know this is on my Top Ten
Sexual Fantasy list.”
The flush that crept over her cheeks made me grin.
“What is?” she asked softly as she took the chair I held out
for her.
I dropped a light kiss on her bare shoulder, took the quiver
that ran through her as my due, and sat down across from her.
“You,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Gorgeous, naked
except for that little apron, in the kitchen, making me breakfast.”
She regained a little of her confidence and smiled in turn.
“I thought it had a nice 1950s vibe to it, in keeping with the
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