Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Spanking, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Food, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, .
Desc: Erotic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Attractive divorcee Millie takes up baking and cooking as a new hobby when her love-life slows down to a crawl. Soon, she finds the road to a man's cock is in his stomach and she springs her food traps when they least expect it.
Now that her two grown children were a half continent away, Millicent March had taken up a new hobby in a long neglected room of her luxury penthouse. She had seldom ventured into her "top-of-the-line" kitchen ever since the messy divorce from her cheating spouse a decade ago and her offspring's departure for university. Now that she had time on her hands, it seemed like a good idea to put the equipment into use and see if her mother's old recipes were still apropos for modern-day consumption.
She had tired of the sweaty hours in the well-used exercise room sitting on top of the exercise bike working hard to make her thighs and buttocks trim and shapely for male enjoyment. In all honesty, she was disappointed with the response from the immediate male population because she knew her figure was easily in the top ten percent of feminine bodies regardless of age or economic circumstance.
Millicent would be the first to admit that she was a bit of a prude.
She had never taken drugs of any type and stayed away from cigarettes and booze because she had seen what they had done to her mother. Her mother Millicent the First was a top-notch cook and had won prizes in contests for several decades before her untimely demise in a boating accident involving the over-indulgence of gin long before the traditional "Happy-hour".
Her ex-husband Randy, may he rot in eternal damnation, was a philander of the worse sort but she never suspected it until she found her best friend Rhonda's panties in his trouser pocket on an early Saturday morning on her way to the cleaners.
Her initial outrage was further added to when she found out that her teenaged children, Little Millicent and Michael, both knew of their father's disgusting habits long before she had inadvertently discovered them on that fateful Saturday morning. It upset her when they both seemed to accept it as normal and that she was "over-reacting" to the lack of faithfulness.
Her ex-husband was now contending with a has-been, phony-boobed screen actress with Botox issues and a reputed mother-in-law from hell. She wished them every calamity imaginable on the road to perdition. The fact that her children visited their father and his new bride each summer was a sore spot but she was more accepting of this familial betrayal of late since they were no longer in residence in her home. Her daughter, Little Millicent, was a mini edition of her mom right down to the unusually large bosom that naturally blossomed right after her eighteenth birthday.
Her beloved son Michael was most likely gay judging from her close daily observations, but he had not "come out" as yet and she was in no hurry to hear the long-suspected news. He was a darling boy with complete lack of mean-spiritedness and in her opinion too willing to accept things at face value. She certainly didn't like most of his friends who were sticky-fingered and ready to take advantage of him in any situation. Anyway, both of her children were out on their own now and she was totally resigned to the inevitability of the situation.
The cooking project started when she was asked by the new pastor to bake a cake for the church bazaar which would then be sold at an auction for much-needed funds to service the food bank and the home for unwed mothers. Millie agreed merely because she did not want to seem too detached from the many plights of the common man.
She knew she had all of the equipment necessary along with a fantastic gas oven designed for professional use and she remembered all her mother's lessons about baking so she was reasonably confidant she would not make a fool of herself in front of the church elders.
Millicent had actually become more attractive in recent years because she tended to take quite good care of her body and had done the work necessary to fix her silly chipped tooth that make her look like a floozy when she smiled. She had gotten into the habit of shaving her pubic area and followed a strict diet to keep her metabolism on a steady course. Her disproportionally huge boobs were naturally perky and had not yet begun to sag.
Even with her efforts at physical improvement, she was not getting any action lately and she figured it was because she was not into the whole texting, networking, social media thing that made her ashamed to be a member of the human race. In fact, the last time she had gotten laid it was by mistake about six months ago when she went to a friend's daughter's wedding and got nailed by a drunken "best man" in the pantry thinking she was the bride's mother. She never mentioned it to her alcoholic friend because her suspicion was that the sly thing had substituted her as a "fill-in" piece of ass for the young man's pleasure not wanting him to see how badly her rear end had surrendered to the laws of gravity.
She never had gotten the boy's name but he was easily the tallest and most muscular of males at the wedding and she had to admit the experience was welcome because it reminded her of her first boyfriend who was a crude footballer with a macho attitude that suited her to a tee. She often wished her own husband would have been more assertive in the bedroom and made her do some of the nasty things she didn't mind being forced to do by a demanding partner.
Millicent had carefully hidden a huge dildo at ass-height inside the walk-in closet in her bedroom suite and generally used it to exercise her internal needs on a nightly basis. She particularly had become accustomed to taking it full length into her rear door because she had become terribly addicted to the stretching sensation when it was fully buried. She was thoroughly ashamed of her habit and hoped that no other person would discover her dreadful depravity. Her orgasms had progressed to the point that she was forced time after time to fall in a shuddering heap on the white fluffy carpet right after every completed session.
She remembered her mother who was prone to soaking up the gin early in the day becoming disturbingly aroused by the cooking of special treats. She would often run to her bedroom and lock the door making fearful noises after she finished a tasty dish. It wasn't until she was older that she realized the cooking and baking of treats stimulated her libido to the breaking point and she needed release more often than not.
When she made the necessary trip to the gourmet food store, she gathered the fruits and veggies and the special cuts of meat that she needed and got the heavy cream for the specialty desserts.
The tall handsome well-dressed mature man at the dairy counter remarked,
"It is not often such a slender attractive female will even touch a bottle of cream these days. You must have some secret to staying so trim and fit."
Her first reaction was to be a bit annoyed because she had a shocking defense mechanism of aloofness that seemed to put people off. Then, she saw the humor in the situation and admitted,
"I am beginning to take up cooking again after a long hiatus and this is one ingredient that absolutely cannot be substituted."
The muscular shouldered man with a twinkle in his steel grey eyes patted her arm holding the cream and told her,
"There are some things, my dear, which can never be substituted!"
She hoped he did not suspect her sudden blush was from her image of the dildo inside her closet and her terrible addiction to taking it up the ass. So she just smiled sweetly and nodded her head in agreement and prayed he did not suspect her hidden standoffish attitude. Her common sense told her that she had to play by the rules if she had any chance of getting laid again.
He was right behind her at the checkout counter and asked her for her cell number if she was open to meeting some time for coffee. She entered it in his contact page and told him her name was Millicent but everyone just called her "Millie".
"Hi, Millie, my name is Dan and I actually run a string of locally-owned dairies that supply stores just like this one. We have pretty much a monopoly on these products because the big dairies can't be bothered with it any longer."
She caught him looking at her ass as she wheeled the cart out to her car and felt the familiar stirring of something deep inside that was a mixture of anticipation and fear.
Millicent had already prepared a roast with a special gravy that was more au-jus than gravy and was getting started on the whipped potato mold when her cell phone rang.
"Hello, Millie, this is Dan. I hope you are free to talk for a few moments."
She put the stirring ladle down and primped her hair out of some sub-conscious force of habit that would soon bring her fingers down to her crotch.
"Hi, Dan, I was just whipping up some old recipes of my mom's to see if I had my old skills still intact. Your cream tasted great in my latte tonight. I think distributing cream the old-fashioned way is best of all."
As soon as she said it, Millie realized it sounded like she was using a double meaning to garner his interest but it was too late to call the words back in.
"That's why cats have long tongues, Millie!"
She knew now he was teasing her but it felt right to her and she allowed her hand to fall down to her triangle and start to explore.
"My mother told me I had a long tongue just like all the girls on her side of the family. I guess I do but I really don't get much practice licking."
She heard him laugh on the other side of the line and he came back at her with,
"Licking is an art and not a science, so it just comes naturally to some people. The only thing I don't like to lick is stamps because they leave that sticky taste in your mouth."
Millie knew that if they kept this conversation up about licking and tongues she would never get her cooking done. She decided to take a chance and invited him over for dinner if he had no other engagement this evening.
"Why that sounds great to me, Millie. I will be there whenever you say. Should I bring the wine?"
She laughed and said,
"Eight is about right and you can surprise me with the wine!"
After the call, she ran up to the bedroom and took a long hot shower and touched up her shaven pubic area in case she got any heavy action after dinner. She donned the French undies that she had been saving for her holiday but it seemed like this was such an opportune time to re-start her "getting laid" program.
The sound of the doorbell sent a perplexing flutter straight down to her tummy. She hadn't felt that familiar tingle since she had been caught giving a blow job to her teacher in the teacher's lounge after school was over. Every time she heard a bell like the sound of the school bell her pussy got all damp and she knew she was ready to take a nearby cock inside without delay. It was like some dreary "Pavlovian reaction" that signaled her inherent kinky nature.
Dan swept in the front door like a knight in shining armor.
Not that he was wearing armor. In fact, he was dressed comfortably in a cashmere sweater and white jeans with the metal studs on the seams that reminded her of an angelic motorcycle gang. One of her unfulfilled fantasies was to be held down and anally done by a line of "Hell's Angels" dressed in black and not white because that was just too fucking perverted.
She knew she was in trouble because he handed her a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka instead of the romantic wine she was expecting. Millie had a low resistance to hard spirits and tended to black out after imbibing it straight without anything to dilute its powerful effect. Maybe that was what she needed. A night of debauchery would work wonders for her neglected pussy not to mention her seldom stretched sphincter.
Everything in the kitchen had turned out to her satisfaction.
Perhaps this evening would wind up in the bedroom and she could pursue a different form of satisfaction. A satisfaction that would make her tingle from her head to her toes.