#337) Dinner Date

“I’m so glad you let me cook you dinner for our second date!” Rachel enthused. “I’ve been simmering the sauce all day, just as the recipe calls for. Now, if you’ll just be patient for about eight minutes more while I boil the spaghetti, dinner will be ready! Do you want to be informal and eat it out by the pool? Okay, but we have to wait half an hour after we eat before we go back in the water… Or is that an old wives’ tale?”
“I think it is…” was all Joel was able to get in edgewise before Rachel resumed her monologue. But that was okay with him because Rachel turned around to stir the noodles in the pot of bubbling water, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off Rachel’s pert, perky, perfect ass.
Without turning back to face him, she asked, “Are you staring at my butt again? You were doing that non-stop in the pool! Is something wrong with it? I know that it’s too big! I’m really self-conscious about it!”
While she was on this high decibel diatribe, Joel got up from his stool at the bar, came around behind her. Joel wanted to hug her from behind, press himself against that incredible butt, but he thought that this would be too forward for where they were. So instead, he gently turned her around to face him. Rachel brandished the wooden spoon in her right hand like a weapon.
“Nothing could be further from the truth!” he consoled.
It wasn’t forceful enough. She continued to rant, “It’s called callipygous, it means “bubble butt.” It sticks out, I know it!”
He met fire with fire, matching her vocal level and urgency, “I know what callipygous means because I’m an ass man and I think yours is phenomenal!”
It got through. Rachel stood there in stunned silence, looking him soulfully in the eyes, and whispered, “Really?”
“Really! I think you are beautiful, every bit of you, including your bottom, especially your bottom…”
“You’re sure that you don’t find my big butt off-putting?”
“I find it as erotic as hell, Rachel, honest, swear to God!”
Again the vociferous enchantress was silent for a moment. “Well, as long as we’re being completely honest… there’s more to me than just a round ass… I have a fixation about it, actually… a fetish… I’m hung-up on having my bottom… spanked…”
Rachel said this last word like it was a curse. She said it all like she was a freak, like she was deformed instead of adorable. That’s how defeated she felt about it all.
“Sweet mother of God, thank you!” Joel said in all seriousness, looking heavenward.
“Did you just say a prayer?”
“Yes. A prayer of gratitude, for fulfilling my life-long prayer.”
“What for? For dinner?”
“No… though I’m sure it will be tasty, Rachel. I was thanking the universe for you.”
“For me?”
This seemed incomprehensible to the sweet but downtrodden girl. Joel decided to take a different tack. In a lower level of voice, in the softest tone imaginable, Joel tried to explain.
“Do you know that other old wives’ tale about knowing when spaghetti is fully cooked by throwing a strand of it against the wall to see if it sticks?”
Leaning in close to him so as to be able to hear, Rachel nodded her head.
Quite unexpectedly, Joel grabbed Rachel around the throat with his left hand and by the protuberant ass cheeks with the other. He did not squeeze with either hand, he didn’t need to. He did not slam Rachel against the eggshell white kitchen wall, he didn’t need to. He more like placed her firmly there. Her eyes grew quite large, as her pussy grew quite wet at this forceful act.
In that same soft whisper, Joel enunciated, “Consider yourself thrown…”
Rachel thought to herself, I’m done…
He continued in the same vein, “Get that bathing suit off. You’re overdue for a spanking.”
Rachel kept her eyes on Joel as she took the garment by the shoulder straps and peeled it down in one smooth, continuous movement. Joel released his grip on her left butt cheeks for this, then returned his hand there. Both hands guided Rachel from the wall to over the counter top.
The vermicelli noodles got overcooked, the sauce continued to simmer, the green salad grew wilted by absorbing the dressing, and the open bottle of red wine was allowed to breath to the point of nearly hyperventilating. Joel spanked Rachel across her proffered posterior for a very long time, until her cheeks were a deep, satisfying crimson that rivaled both the sauce and the wine. At her urging, he then slipped his erection into her sex from behind and fucked Rachel just as vociferously as he’d punished her, much to her undying gratitude. She just kept repeating her own prayer of gratitude.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God!”

4 responses to “#337) Dinner Date”

  1. “I know what callipygous means because I’m an ass man and I think yours is phenomenal!”
    It got through. Rachel stood there in stunned silence, looking him soulfully in the eyes, and whispered, “Really?”

    If it was a woman I was dating the response would be more like, “You don’t like my tits????”


    Liked by 1 person

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