Pages of instructions! Six languages. Things should be simpler. What ever happened to point-and-shoot? Bill tosses the booklet back under the Christmas tree and picks up the camera. He aims it first at the cat, then at the kitchen. Ah, there is Cindy, doing something near the stove. Bill works the zoom.

Big red oven mittens. Bill zooms back a bit. Cindy’s so beautiful, bending forward, that enigmatic smile. What could she be thinking? Bill presses the button.

“You like your new camera?” Cindy asks.

“I just took a picture of you,” Bill says. He shows her the image on the little screen. “After dinner I’m going to print it on the computer. A blow-up. What is for dinner, anyway? You had the strangest expression on your face. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Cindy says. “It’s just meatloaf. Maybe I was worried it wouldn’t be juicy. Oh, wait. The potatoes. I was wondering if they were forked enough. If they’re not forked enough they explode.”

“You looked so cute in those red mittens,” Bill says. “You know what would be good? If I took the same shot, except you weren’t wearing any clothes. Just the red mittens.”

Somehow Bill talks her into it. The shapely stretch of her legs, the sweet curve of her ass, the adorable dip of her breasts. Somehow he ends up under her, his erection between her red oven mittens.

“So hot and juicy,” she says. “My special meatloaf. Good enough to eat.” A lick, a taste. She caresses his balls with those big mittens. “Mm, meat and potatoes,” she says. Somehow his cock finds its way into her tight slick sheath, and she is fucking him, slowly at first, then faster, harder. She has that strange, special expression on her face.

He explodes.