Confessions of a [M] private chef: (part 6) – the pool house

I’m a [32M] freelance private chef for wealthy clients. It can get pretty NSFW at private dinners and events. I have posted a few stories about some of the more explicit and memorable times and have a few stories left that are directly related to hookups being a chef.

Ever since I’ve been self-employed I’ve been able to live a life not typically experienced by someone who is equally as dedicated to their profession, but works in restaurants. This has allowed me to travel, take time off, have a social life, maintain relationships, and casually “date”. In my experience, my social availability combined with the (false) popular glamorization of being a chef attracts a variety of people. When I meet non-industry women who choose to know just enough about being a chef to be attracted to the superficial characteristics attached to it, I can usually tell that our interactions will become flirty. Madalyn aligns with this category. She has admitted that my time-scarce, disciplined, and creative “life-style” contributes to her attraction to me. Anway, rather than wax poetic…

…Madalyn is a slender strawberry blond who has a taste for vintage fashion and classic art-deco aesthetic. I knew her for a couple of years prior through our ties to the restaurant/culinary world because she is a prominent photographer for a major publication. When we first met, we hit it off and actually tried going on a couple of dates, but our timing never seemed to match up. Nonetheless, we enjoyed each other’s company, conversation, and bumping into each other at restaurant openings, events, etc. around the city.

I had been doing some public dinners around town and Madalyn messaged me to see if we could collaborate. She would make some cocktails, I would cook, and we would have a casual photoshoot to build our portfolios and promote these events. Of course, I said yes.

My long-time clients, not surprisingly, have an amazing house. But my favorite part is their pool-house. It’s kind of a classic and contemporary boho meets modern english country-side bungalow. It has an amazing garden, beautiful kitchen, gray stone, marble, and wood, and it brings me a lot of pleasure to cook there. During early-mid March the principals left town for spring break. I respectfully asked if I could invite a trustworthy friend to join me in a cooking-photography shoot there while they were gone. Being the awesome people they are, the answer was an overwhelming, “of course”.
The live-in nanny was recovering from a surgery and she pretty much stayed house-bound while Madalyn and I arrived late morning to set up and enjoy the day. So we didn’t have to worry about being disturbed.
I had recently got back from Spain so I cooked a familiar dish of Migas made with cured pork, torn bread, and garlic. We had a guacamole competition, which, she claims, she won, but I know my guac recipe is second to few. And finally, cocktails and ice cream.
The best part of this whole experience was that it was completely unexpected (by me, at least). By no means did I have any intentions beyond professional and platonic, but the night quickly escalated.
We had to do SOMETHING with all the cocktails she made so the second half of the shoot was focused on making sure those didn’t go to waste. With cooking, shooting, and cleaning all wrapped up, we sat on the couch in the dusky living room with all of the sliding glass doors open. A tepid breeze broke the warm buzz we had going from the brandy. We reviewed hundreds of photos on her laptop, scrolling through rapidly to favorite those that stood out. I have no conscious access to how it went from reviewing photos to getting so close on the couch that any accidental bump of our knees or tap on the arm gave us butterflies and got our hearts racing.
Madalyn stood up, went to her suitcase and pulled out a pen, sat back down. We drank and smoked until the playful touches became more deliberate and frequent. And flirty. There’s a certain feeling we all know when we become physically close to a new person and the sexual tension builds. Combine that with my inner voice telling me to let loose for once. Get tipsy. Get high. As long as this is comfortable with you both, who cares if it goes further or stops here? Just relax and for once, stop worrying so much about the future outcome. Just be present.

Madalyn and I looked at each other. My warm, tingling chest and light head became grounded the moment the first layer of the cells on her lips came in contact with the first layer of cells on mine. The kiss was like watching a red 1960’s Chevelle speed towards you from miles away on an arrow-straight desert road, vibrate the ground beneath your feet, rumble your stomach, and race past you without slowing down or having any regard for your safety as a hitchhiker. Exhilarating. Deep. Intense. Wet. Erotic. Safe.

“That was fun,” I said. A little drunk, a little high, and trying not to ruin the moment with more words than absolutely necessary.

“This whole day has been fun,” she exclaimed. “We’re just a couple of friends having fun!”

It doesn’t take the CIA to decode that statement.

“Everyone should have at least one friendship in their lives like this.” I played along.

“Right?! We have friends we do certain things with, why can’t we just have friends who we cook and make out with?” Madalyn continued.

Writing this and recalling the gist of the conversation, I’m realizing it was definitely an enlightened conversation for the unsober.

I didn’t respond…at least I don’t recall responding. Fewer words, remember?
We sat side by side making out, taking it slow to see how each other would escalate to the next move.

She put her hand on my thigh. My right hand under her shirt resting on the small of her back. She bit my lip, keeping it between her teeth longer than expected. It was as if she was telling me, with that gesture, “I’m not like anyone you’ve ever been with”. Gently, I hovered my hand up her back, grazing her t-shirt and back of her neck before cupping the back of her head with her hair between my fingers. A sudden clench of my fingers and a quick, but controlled pull, was my way of nonverbally responding to her saying, “neither am I”.

Madalyn let out a slow laugh. Her red lipstick and glaring white teeth lit up the room like the cheshire cats from Alice In Wonderland. The mystery of that smile and how turned on I was at this point, elicited fear and excitement. Was I really about to see Madalyn naked? A woman I’ve known strictly platonically for 2 years?

I took off her wavy, tan blouse with small blue dots. Underneath was a dark, lacy bra. She was the kind of woman who wore vintage lingerie because it was a hobby, not because she was expecting anyone to see it. Which made it much more intimate to see her undressed. Her pale, flat stomach bisected her bra and dark, skin-tight jeans.

I kissed her neck, her chest, and grasped the side of her torso with a firm and wide grip with my big hands. Intentionally squeezing a bit harder than what might be comfortable. I wanted to be in control. Her 1950’s/60’s aesthetic subconsciously made me want to dominate her like a submissive housewife.

Her small tits drew the subtle outline of her cleavage. I kissed her tits gently, I kissed her bra, and followed with a trail of deep but gentle kisses down to her belly button. Little licks before my lips came into contact with her soft skin deepened her breathing. Grasping the waist of her jeans, she lounged back on the couch and put her hands behind her head, dangling over the back.

Instead of taking her pants off right away, I kissed her pussy over her jeans. I wanted to keep building anticipation. Plus, the slow motion of the world made this foreplay cerebral and intense.

Her jeans were so tight I could barely pull them off. I was looking forward to teasing her with her panties on, but her jeans stripped her of her matching, lacy thong at the same time. It was dark, but I could tell her pussy was bright pink with a small patch of strawberry blond hair just above her clit.

I sat up, got on top of her supporting myself with my arms on either side of her on the couch cushions and kissed her. She bit my lip again but I pulled away and took off her bra. I was fully clothed. Again, feeling particularly dominant, I wanted her to feel vulnerable and in my control. Here she is completely naked. I’m clothed standing still in front of her. We make eye contact. She slowly sits up and reaches for my waist. I don’t move. The poolhouse is silent. The only sound is her undoing my pants and pulling them to the floor. She rubs my cock over my briefs with an open palm and then pulls them down. The ambient light accentuates the veins in my cock which, to her, I hope makes it irresistible.

The same feeling as when we kissed gushed over me even more intensely as I felt, first her hand, grab the middle of my hard shaft. Her bright red lips followed as they parted and the head of my cock, already wet with pre-cum, disappeared into her mouth.

She looked so proper sitting with perfect posture on her knees. Her brown eyes pierced mine as her lips came to a close and puckered, kissing my head – still gracefully stroking me and looking me in the eyes.

I was so turned on by her by this point that I wanted all parts of my body on her and inside her simultaneously. I sat her up back on the couch, knelt in front of her, gazed her and her naked body and continued where she left off, stroking my dick and rotating my wrist with my left hand and reaching for Madalyn’s pussy to finger her with my right. Inside, reaching deep, curling my fingers upward and massaging her g-spot, she sank back into the cushions. I let go of my cock and leaned in to take her in my mouth.

She was so fucking wet I could feel her drip down my chin like eating a juicy peach.

After a few minutes of my favorite pastime, Madalyn scootches herself up and says “I’ve been watching you in the mirror the entire time.”

I look behind me and see a door-sized, wood-framed floor mirror and with a second to think about I sit down on the couch, pick Madalyn up by her waist and seat her in my lap. Her back now sinks into my chest and we’re cheek-to-cheek. Her legs spread open draped over my thighs, her hair trailing down my shoulders, we make out sloppily (as we do when we’re mid-high).

Both facing the mirror, her pussy is on display. She reaches down and grabs my cock once again, but this time guides it into her as she hovers inches above my waist. Once I’m in, she completely lowers herself taking all of my. Deeply. We both laugh and exhale deeply.

Rhythmically, we find our groove. I try to pull out as much as possible and go as deep as possible with every figure-8 Madalyn makes on top of me with her hips.

Our eyes are glued to the mirror. I can’t take in enough every bit of visual and sensory stimulation of the moment.
We both watch my cock come out of her pussy and slide back in with such ease

“I can feel every part of you” I say as she does another figure-8 with me fully inside her.

“I want every inch of you in me” she exhales.

Like a buoy bouncing rhythmically on the waves, we are completely synced. I want to fuck her in every position in front of this mirror and watch her lips grip my thick cock.

She starts to breathe heavier and closes her eyes tightly. Speeding up her motions and grinding deeper, pushing down on my lap as her fingernails dig into both of my thighs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes” she yells in a high-pitched tongue. Eyes still closed tightly I see the reflection of a smile wash over her face. She stops gyrating all together as her entire pussy is contracting on my shaft while still inside her. I love this feeling.

She pulls me out of her. My dick is well lubricated as she begins to stroke me quickly. We make out as she whispers, “cum for me, cum for me” directly into my mouth.

My cock twitches forcibly in her tight grip. I bite her lip and hold onto it as cum shoots onto her belly button and down her hands, dripping down between both of our thighs and (fuck!) onto the couch.

After some rest, clean up, and naked ice cream on the couch, another quick session in front of the mirror before we were sober enough to pack up and drive home.

Recipe
MY Guacamole – it’s simple but it’s all you need ;)

2 ripe avocados
1 ounce chives, thinly sliced
¼ cup cilantro finely chopped
1 jalapeño, seeded and finely minced
Lime juice and salt to taste
Mash everything with a fork keeping the chunks.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/olki0g/confessions_of_a_m_private_chef_part_6_the_pool