Am a bad cook except if we are talking about your pussy

Cookery books, blah blah master chef of blah blah television show. Watched them read them like cant they all be dumped in my head.

Recently i got a would be new girl to fill up on my bachelor time. One which evolves around stuffing myself on sandwich, rolex and another other roadside delicacy including the lady at the street light shining brighter than the moon. Dont know what i liked in her but all i know she is a graduate of some cooking school around the corner of town. So scum attracts scum and her scum is cooking. Turning raw food into cooked food. Her conversations are punctuated with ‘can you prepare this?’ …..’ i will cook you this one day…….’.
She so good at that conversation like her mama taught her to the letter…..’ a way to a mans heart is his stomach’

Those my bachelor senses be screaming ‘ she is aiming to high…..am aiming for that just near and below the waist belt……’

Tired of her monologues i set a bet to beat her at her own field of play. I was going to cook some out of this world meal though at the end i wished it had remained out of this world. I packaged it as a surprise because as you know tbe army of the weak is surprise and manipulation of suspense. Days on end i would sneak out the bed and peruse through some recipes. Downloaded all sorts of tutorial though i never ever watched or read any.
Come D day and i wasnt yet prepared.

I invited her home, handed her a mug of her favorite beer ofcourse spiked  so she passed out really quick and wouldnt be in position to judge my cooking. Unfortunately their was this sick romance story on TV so she skipped the script.

Back in the field of play i was busy pulping everything up onions on badly cut tomatoes which came at the price of a bleeding finger. The onions squirted in my eyes leaving them teary and blinded like Steve Wonder. Meaning i couldnt appropriately estimate the amout of salt thrown in the saucs but by taste i think it was half a bag. Which forced me to add some sugar to neutralise the taste which made things even worse as the taste turned for worse.

Looking unto my prey, she was running her finger in her hair a scene that made my D erect which turned the oven knob increasing the heating temperature of the gas oven. Within minutes the whole kitchen was all up in smoke,  the sauce was as black as my face, the fire alarm  went off and within seconds the water was raining hard on me to extinguish the fire.

Thats when she skipped to my rescue from her show to come help me out. Not accepting defeat held her by the was, with her lips gaping and locked them in a deep French kiss while my fingers ran the Kampala Marathon round her smooth curves, down her panty line. She momentarily with drew her lips, our eyes locked for a few seconds as the burning sensation to make love ran through our bodies.

An hour later we were holding each other we were clutching on each others bodies as orgasms did the moon walk through our spines……………and rolled off whispering you are bad at cooking but lay pipe better than a plumber.

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