I was recently on the phone with a friend, Luca. His once-thriving restaurant business has been hit hard by COVID-19. He’s doing OK given the circumstances, but he’s more concerned for the employees he had to layoff. My heart goes out to him and all of them. I originally got acquainted with him because I was part of a team that published a cookbook he was bringing to market. Not long after, he brought me into his world of delicious food blended with kink. There are lots of stories, but while we’re catching up, he says two words:
“Squash soup.”
Like a phrase that awakens a sleeper agent, that instantly recalls a wild time I want to share with you…
# CHEF’S CHOICE
I’m on my knees, arms behind my back. I am fully nude, except for a thin velvet day collar. Luca gives me a long, lecherous gaze, checking me up and down. He approaches, I close my eyes. He barks at me to keep them open, don’t make eye contact, look straight ahead. He takes his bare foot and pushes my legs so they’re parted like a wide V. Then he curls his toes and rubs them against my bare mound, tracing my slit. When he pulls back, there is wetness, which he smears on my inner thighs.