It’s a sunny afternoon. The light streams through the kitchen windows as I roll out the dough. My forearms ache, pressing firmly down and spreading it. I don’t know why I agreed to making so many cookies. They were for a small gifting event meant to brighten up the neighbourhood, and with so much time in quarantine it seemed like the perfect chance to keep busy. Now I regretted it, lightly covered from sweat in the heat of the kitchen, working on the third batch of the day.
“Still working hard in here, I see?” I hear Milos say from behind me. I turn to look at him but find him far closer than I originally thought. My shoulder bumps his chest as I turn and I retreat, facing the counter. The heat of his chest radiates against my back, his hot skin far hotter than the steaming kitchen. He places his hands either side of me on the counter, trapping me between his toned arms. He peaks over my shoulder, “Looks good, give me a taste.”
“There’s raw eggs in it.” I say quietly but a little defiantly, pressing harder on the rolling pin and trying my best to return to the task at hand and ignore the zinging in my body. He tisks at me, sliding his hands closer, crowding me. I huddle my shoulders in to avoid his touch.
“I said give me a taste. I won’t ask again.” Firmly, his words ruffle the loose strands of hair on my neck making my skin tingle and flush. I set down the rolling pin and tear a small piece of dough off, balling it up in my fingers before offering it to him. He grabs my wrist and guides my hand to his lips, gently popping it into his mouth and licking my empty fingers with his hot tongue. “Good girl.”
The feeling of his tongue makes me tremble a bit, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I hesitate for a moment, then rinse my soiled fingers under the water and continue rolling the dough. He stays behind me, silently watching. I feel him get closer to me, but never touching. I feel his breath on my neck as he dips down. I yearn for his lips on my skin, but he retreats. I whimper slightly, frustrated.
“I need to cut the shapes now.” I tell him, reaching tentatively for the cookie cutter. I hesitate before I take one, “May I?”
“You may.” He whispers in my ear, and I jump from the proximity. My body is on fire as I mechanically begin pressing the shape into the dough. As I press down my shoulders brush his chest and he growls at me, a sound I can feel deep in my body.
His teeth are hard on my neck, and his bites firmly. I gasp and he lets go, licking the mark on my neck. I falter, my attention can no longer be divided.
“Continue.” He demands, and I listen, once again pressing the cutter into the dough. He leans into me, trapping me between him and the counter. I can feel his erection pressing into my lower back and the top of my ass, and he grinds lightly against me while I try to work. His hands move from the counter to my hips, pulling me forcibly into him. He slips a hand down the front of my pants, and I know he feels the wetness gathering at the top of my thighs.
Milos growls his approval and roughly pulls down my pants, fingers plunging between my legs. My knees weaken but he holds me up firmly. My hands stop moving, overwhelmed by his touch. “Continue,” he demands again in a husky voice. He kneels behind me, spreading my legs. I feel myself dripping, as he pulls his fingers from me I’m sure there are long sticky threads. His hot tongue plunges into me and I’m gasping as he firmly circles my clit, prodding inside of me.
“I can’t,” I whimper, “Milos! I can’t.” I say grabbing his hand. He stands up abruptly and grabs a handful of my hair hair, bending me over the counter. I feel his hard dick press against my vagina and I cry out as he presses himself into me, I hungrily accept him all until he is as deep as he can go. The fullness sends me over the edge and I pant into an orgasm. He presses me aggressively into the counter, I squirm against him unable to move but begging him to.
“Milos, you bastard, move.” I try to hiss, but it comes out as more of a desperate cry. He doesn’t listen to me, instead he presses even deeper, pulling my head back slightly and licking along my neck and over the tender bite.
“I’m the one who gives commands.” He tells me, spanking my ass firmly with his hand. He releases my hair and gathers my hands, holding them firmly behind my back. He spanks me again, “Who is in charge here?”
“You are.” I whimper as he smacks me again.
“Good girl.” He tells me and begins thrusting deeply into me. As soon as he starts I explode into another orgasm, a quivering wet mess on his hard cock. He slams into me, increasing his pace, my ass slapping against his hips as he presses into me harder and deeper. The dough is swept to the side, but the sweet smell mixed with his intoxicating scent has me drooling and panting, my ass is sore from the spanking and as he slams into me I know it is only getting redder.
Milos pulls out of me suddenly and I whimper at the loss. He pulls me up by my wrists and off the counter onto my feet. He spins me to face him, grabbing my head again and pushing me down in front of him. “Open,” he growls, pressing the tip of his cock against my lips. I open my wet waiting mouth for him.
He pushes his deep dick into me, the tip deep in my throat. I gag slightly at the sudden intrusion and my eyes tear, but I press against him with my tongue, lapping all my juices off him as he thrusts into my mouth. He grabs my hair once more and forces me to look up at him. His jaw is taut, but his dark eyes are swimming with lust. “I’m coming now.” He says firmly, then thrusts into me again, shooting thick hot ropes directly down my throat. I gag a little, some of his cum dribbling from my lips as I try desperately to swallow it all. He looks down at me, thrusting into me again once, twice, then slowly pulling himself from my mouth. My drool attaches us still, and he wipes it gently with his thumb from my chin.
“Good girl.”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/gi3q8q/making_cookies_mf_slight_domsub_kitchen_sex