Bon Appétit

Literotic asexstories – Bon Appétit by Chalupacabra,Chalupacabra
“Good evening, madame,” says Isabella, lowering the pitch of her voice and taking on a proper French accent. “My name is François,” she continues, enunciating very clearly, “and I will be your waiter. Would you like to hear our specials?”

“No, thank you,” Isabella then says in her own voice. “Please tell chef Gordon that I will be having my usual meal tonight.”

“Very well, madame,” she replies to herself, dipping her head in a slight bow.

Isabella wears a luscious black lace evening gown with long sleeves; it hugs her full figure. Her dark hair is tied into a neat bun atop her head, and a tasteful oeuvre of mascara and eyeshadow highlight the whites that surround her deep brown eyes.

She sits at the end of a meticulously dressed dining table, and the only place that is set is her own. The silverware sits apart widely, and two glasses, one of crystal-clear water, and the other of rich red wine, rest to the right side of her setting. A serving cart is stationed beside her within arm’s reach, with a silver tray covered by a large dome lid.

“So…now what?” Kenji says.

The most conspicuous item on the table is the body of a man. He lays on his back with his head, supported by a small pillow, at the end opposite Isabella. His crisp, white dress shirt and black dinner jacket are well fitted to his long, thin frame, and his bowtie is only slightly askew. Wearing nothing below his waist, his hairless butt rests right at the edge of the table, directly in front of Isabella. His knees are raised, and his feet supported by the armrests of Isabella’s wide, wooden chair. A neatly folded cloth napkin is draped over his genitals.

“Do we really have to do this?” he asks quietly.

With a little flourish, Isabella lifts the napkin to reveal the man’s genitals. Her eyes widen.

“Voila, madame,” she says in her French waiter’s accent. “Bon appétit!”

“Ooh, it’s lovely,” she replies to herself with a smile. “Thank you.”

Sitting up straight, Isabella tucks the cotton cloth into the front of her dress, between her large breasts, and reaches for her utensils. With her knife, she pushes Kenji’s flaccid penis to the side and inspects it carefully.

“Ah! Babe, it’s cold,” Kenji complains in a hushed tone.

Then with her fork, she scoops up his balls and raises them gently. She lowers her head, bringing her nose closer, and breathes in his scent.

“Izzy, I know I agreed to this, but come on,” Kenji says, raising his head off the pillow.

Isabella sets down her utensils without acknowledging him.

“François? Excuse me–François?” Isabella calls out.

“Yes, madame. Is everything all right?” he says, sincerely concerned.

“I’m not sure if this dish is up to my standards. Are you sure it was properly sourced and prepared? It’s uncooperative. Are you sure all of the details were taken care of beforehand?”

Kenji sighs.

“Oh, but of course madame. Chef Gordon always takes expert care of his most beloved visitors. But if anything seems off and you will not be completely satisfied, I will be happy to bring it back and return with something more to your liking.”

“Okay, babe, fine,” concedes Kenji. “Please keep going. I’ll shut up.”

“Ah, no, it’s my mistake, François,” admits Isabella. “Perhaps I’m a little distracted this evening. I should never have doubted Chef Gordon. He’s always so good to me.”

She picks up her utensils again and tucks them under her armpit to warm them.

“Very well, madame.”

Turning back to face the delectable display before her, Isabella clicks back into her groove. She purses her lips and blows her warm breath gently over Kenji’s flaccid four inches, and on either side where his thighs meet his pelvis.

No motion yet, she notes.

With the blade of the warmed knife, she grazes the inside of his left thigh, moving down towards his crotch.

Watching his cock carefully, she notices a little twitch.

Then, with the fork, Isabella uses the ends of the tines to scritch the underside of his sack.

“Hmm,” Kenji lets slip, amused.

With the knife, Isabella softly strokes back and forth along the length of his cock, as though she’s buttering toast. Finally, it begins to swell, and she smirks impishly.

As it slowly grows in size, Kenji’s cock sways and bobs, at first fluidly but then less so. While it’s still half hard and hanging downward, Isabella lifts the head of his cock with her fork, lowers her own head again, and parts her lips. The fork in her hand eases the cock up to her mouth, and she takes the head in, letting it rest on her hot, wet tongue. With lips closed around it, she sucks on it gently.

Kenji moans softly, and in less than a minute he is nearly fully erect.

Isabella dispenses with the utensils and brings her bare hands into play. With her right, she lovingly cups and massages his balls while her left loosely wraps around the base of his penis. Her glossy black nail polish matches the colour of his pubic hair. Keeping her head still, and with eyes closed, she continues to suck on the head of his cock with a regular and pulsing rhythm of suction, filling and hardening it thoroughly.

When she pulls her head back, Isabella’s lips release Kenji’s cock with satisfyingly wet pop. Staring at it, she licks the saliva from her lips and grins devilishly, excited about her next move.

Grasping his shaft confidently with her right hand, she initiates a deliberately slow stroke downward–this will be the first time since they began their play. Millimeter by millimeter, the hard head of Kenji’s cock is revealed as his foreskin is pulled back. When the crown of his glans jumps free, and Isabella’s long stroke finally tugs at his frenulum, Kenji arches his back while an ample bead of pre-cum emerges from his cock and glides down his shaft.

“Fuck, Izzy, that’s so good. I want your pussy.”

Isabella is fully engrossed. Fully focused. She licks the fluid from his cock and enjoys the silky, viscous texture that coats her tongue.

“Seriously, when are we gonna fuck?” Kenji continues, tugging at his collar.

“Excuse me! I’m so sorry–François?” Isabella releases Kenji’s dick and looks to the back corner of the room. With her eyes, she follows an imaginary figure as it swiftly approaches her table.

“Oui, madame?” asks the waiter.

“I’m terribly sorry, but the other patron over there is speaking so loudly. Would it be possible to ask them to be more considerate of other guests?”

“Are you for real?” Kenji grumbles.

“My dear madame, of course. My apologies. I’ll take care of it right away.”

“Thank you so much,” she replies, raising her glass of red wine to her lips before taking an indulgent sip.

With the glass back on the table, Isabella grips the base of his cock tightly with the first fingers and thumbs of both hands. The purply blue veins on Kenji’s penis bulge, and more fluid begins to run down from the tip. Bringing her face close and closing her eyes, she traces by feel the most dominant veins with her tongue. It follows a snaking path up the left side, across and down the right, then back up the center, collecting that succulent pre-cum. Her tongue ends its journey on Kenji’s frenulum, and she flicks her slick, pointed tongue over it from side to side.

“Ahh,” he sighs.

Satisfied with her games, Isabella wraps all her fingers around his shaft and starts to stroke him. She watches entranced as his foreskin extends and retracts in a smooth, rolling motion, only inches from her face. Her tongue unconsciously reaches out to tease the tip of his foreskin and urethra on the upstrokes.

Kenji breathes deeply and grips the edges of the table.

Continuing to stroke with only her right, Isabella’s left hand explores her body. She runs her hand over her generous hips, over her belly, and up to her busty chest.

The dress is a little small and feels tight around her large breasts. To ease the pressure, she pulls down on the plunging neckline and lets her left boob fall out with a bounce. Likewise, the cloth napkin comes loose from her cleavage and falls into her lap. With a heavy palmful of her own breast, she strokes Kenji a little faster, and takes him back into her mouth.

The slight motions of his hips, the arch of his back, and the increase in his breath rate all signal to Isabella that Kenji is getting close. Matching her deepening strokes, her head bobs up and down as she sucks him off expertly. There’s pride in her method, in her practiced maneuvers.

“Oh, fuck…”

As Kenji starts to come, he trembles on the tabletop, rattling the silverware by his side. Isabella controls the movement of her head carefully and tightens her lips so as not to let anything escape. Though her mouth fills saliva and hot cum, she neatly keeps it all together. When his cock stops twitching and the flow of semen lets up, she swallows everything with a modest gulp. Isabella then removes him from her mouth and licks him clean before sitting back upright and daintily wiping the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin.

A moment later, she adopts the French accent again.

“Madame, was everything to your liking?” asks François.

“Oh, yes! Thank you,” she says, casually tossing her napkin over Kenji’s junk. “Absolutely delicious.”

“Excellent. Would you care for a little dessert?”

“Why, yes, that would be marvelous! But first, if you’ll excuse me, I simply must powder my nose.”

Isabella tucks her heavy, hanging breast back into her lacey black dress, adjusts her bun, and rises while lifting Kenji’s leg and passing underneath it. She leaves the room.

“Uh, babe? Izzy?”

Unsure about how to proceed, Kenji decides it may be best to stay on the table and wait. Staring at the ceiling of their apartment, he admires the soft, flickering candlelight that barely reaches it.

“I guess this is pretty romantic,” he thinks.

Raising himself onto an elbow, he reaches across the table to grab the lone glass of wine and drinks down its remaining contents. When Isabella re-enters, he quickly replaces the glass and lays back.

Once again in her seated position, she speaks:

“Voila, madame. Le dessert est servi,” announces François.

The napkin is lifted.

Isabella reaches over to the serving cart that has yet to be disturbed. She lifts a reflective dome lid to reveal a tray with a couple items neatly arranged there.

Hearing the subtle ring of the lid as it clinks against the tray, Kenji pipes up.

“Hey, so… Listen, I know we did some talking but–” he starts, nervously.

“What an indulgent, sinful little post-dinner delight,” Isabella declares excitedly to François. “One must enjoy it with care, consideration, and love. And, of course, savour every moment.”

She kindly strokes Kenji’s thigh with her hand.

“But of course,” agrees François, dismissing himself.

“Right…yeah,” Kenji says, reassured. “Okay, let’s do it.”

She picks up the first item, a bottle of lube, and transfers it to her left hand. Then the next: a hot pink, penis-shaped jelly dildo. She wiggles it playfully and smiles at the cute object. All things considered, it’s rather tame: only about five inches long and an inch wide at the largest point.

Isabella warms it for a moment with her mouth, and flicks open the bottle of lube with her thumb. Then, she applies a healthy pump of lube to the tip of the toy and spreads it around with her finger. At the same time, she shifts her hips from side to side, appreciating the sense of fullness that her recently inserted butt plug provides.

Once the toy is ready, Isabella turns her attention to the puckered asshole in front of her. To relax him, she brushes her lips and nose along his thighs, and across the small hairs that pepper the area. She can smell the fragrant oil of his skin, and the scent of his cum still lingers in the air despite her recent disappearing act. After she starts to kiss his skin, she presents the tip of the dildo to Kenji’s anus, and he inhales sharply.

Burying her face between his sack and his thigh, she hums and moans lovingly. Kenji can feel the subtle vibrations radiating through his pelvis and relaxing his muscles. Without any sense of urgency, she applies with the toy a gentle pressure on his sphincter, coaxing it open a little more.

“That kind of tickles,” Kenji says. Then he breathes deeply.

On his long exhale, the tip of the dildo slips in about an inch deep. Thoroughly pleased, Isabella moans a long, sultry tone into his sack, with her nose nuzzling the base of his penis. She lets his smooth, limp cock lean across her cheek.

While pumping the toy in the slightest, gentlest way, she turns her face up to nip and nibble teasingly at his shaft. In a couple of minutes, two thirds of the dildo have made it into Kenji’s ass, and he’s hard again.

Isabella sits up straight and stimulates the nerve endings at the opening of Kenji’s anus with the dildo. Taking advantage of its flexible nature, she moves it in tiny circles, akin to the kind of motion one would use to roll down the window of an old car. All the while, she carefully works the pink toy in a little further, until he’s taken it all in.

With her other hand, she once again takes hold of his cock and notes the physical proof of her attentive work. A simple squeeze fills the miniature well that his foreskin creates at the tip of his dick with that warm, clear fluid. She strokes him, watching as it gradually coats his glans.

Another shift of her hips, and Isabella realizes that she herself is soaking wet. She wants to reach down, hike up her dress, and plunge her fingers into herself, or toy with her plug while rubbing her clit, but she’s too busy with the task at hand. Thankfully, Kenji seems to be approaching his limit. Isabella gleefully spits on the head of his cock and strokes him a little harder.

“Oh…babe…” Kenji says quietly. He’ still not used to the way anal and prostate stimulation effect the build of his orgasm. It feels longer, physically hotter, and in some ways more intimidating and inevitable, like a heavy object gaining critical momentum.

Pointing his cock straight up as she strokes him with control, she grips it with fingers spread wide. Her index curls around at the top, jumping up and down across the crown of his glans. The rest grip his shaft securely. Her thumb is held upright along the underside of his penis, with the pad of her thumb working up and down over his frenulum repeatedly. The dildo slides more easily in and out of his ass now, and her pumps are synchronized with her strokes.

“He’s a goner,” Isabella thinks, smirking to herself.

“F-fuck…Fuuuuck!” Kenji moans, with full-body twitches. He tightly grips the edges of the table again to stabilize himself.

Cumming a second time, his ejaculation is less forceful, but still wonderfully satisfying to watch. Instead of shooting out in short streaks of white, his semen flows up and out languorously, in sync with Isabella’s controlled strokes. It runs down all sides of his shaft, and over the back of Isabella’s hand. Wanting another taste, she laps up a little bit while it’s still warm.

When he’s fully spent, Isabella let’s Kenji’s penis slump exhaustedly against his thigh, then she wipes her mouth and hands with the napkin. Thoughtfully, she also takes a moment to clean up Kenji’s messy groin.

A moment later, she stands beside the table, looking down at Kenji, who still pants softly. His body melting into the tabletop, he looks back at her, blinking slowly.

Maintaining direct eye contact, Isabella slips off her heels, pulls her tight dress up to her waist, and climbs onto the sturdy dinner table. With knees on either side of Kenji’s head, she positions her plump, wide hips over his shoulders, giving him full view of her soaking pussy–if she waited patiently enough, it would drip onto his face.

“That was a wonderful meal, dear,” she whispers.

Isabella runs her fingers through his thick black hair and tussles it lightly. She stares at the locks, silently admiring the colour, the texture, the shine. Eventually her fingers curl into a fist, and she grips his hair tightly. Her eyes lock onto his again.

Kenji nods lazily.

With that, Isabella licks her lips and lowers herself onto his face.

“Your turn.”