Tammi Cooks Dinner

by Sean Porter

* * * * * * *

Two days after Tammi and I made love for the first time, she moved into my house. It was an obvious decision; we had spent nearly every day together for the past month, and we were already talking about getting married.

As we both awoke in the same bed for the first time (not that we had gotten much sleep), we smiled drowsily at each other. "Good morning," I whispered, gently kissing her soft lips.

"Good morning," she replied sleepily. "I love you." Then she closed her eyes again and turned over, mumbling, "Have a good day at work."

"Work?" I scratched myself. "I didn't think I'd be going in today..."

"Oh, I'll be fine, honey. Don't worry about me."

"I wasn't worried about..."

"Besides, I was really looking forward to cleaning the house while you're gone and then greeting you with a nice home-cooked meal when you get home. It'll make me feel so...wifely." She grinned over her shoulder at me. "And then, of course, I'll want you to fuck the living daylights out of me."

"Well, when you put it that way..." I headed for the shower, wondering what I would do all day. Tammi had been my only project since Kyle had introduced us. I'd have to see what else was going on in the department.

By the time I headed out the door, Tammi was up and padding around in my housecoat and slippers. With her tangled hair and sleepy eyes, I thought she looked as stunning as ever. "Bye honey," she said as she kissed me at the door. Through the thick, soft fabric I felt her hard body pressing against me. I prayed the day would go fast.

* * * * * * *

Eight hours later I opened the door and looked around at my -- make that our -- humble home. It was spotless. The floors shone, the coffee table gleamed, the books and magazines were neatly stacked, and a fresh smell permeated the air. "I could get used to this," I thought with a smile.

"Oh, you're home already?" came Tammi's voice from the kitchen. "I'm just starting dinner."

"That's alright, I can wait." I walked into the kitchen.

Tammi was standing at the sink, her back to me. Except for an apron, which hid nothing from this angle, she was completely nude.

"Damn," I exclaimed, "now that's what I call an appetizing dish!"

Tammi turned to face me with a smirk on her lips. "I didn't want to get my clothes dirty." The generous spheres of her breasts pushed the loosely tied apron away from her feminine frame. "Now don't you try to distract me," she admonished. "I need to concentrate on what I'm doing."

"That's fine," I said, pulling in a chair from the dining room. "I'll just concentrate on you while you do it."

"Fair enough," she replied.

She turned her back on me once more. I gazed longingly at her sleek, bronzed, finely muscled back, her taut, round buttocks, and her long, statuesque legs. She glanced coyly over her shoulder at me, her luxurious black hair falling over her face, while she peeled a few more potatoes, then reached for a knife.

"I couldn't find your cutting board," she said matter of factly.

"Oh, it's--"

"So I've just been using my leg," she finished, cutting me off. Gracefully she extended her right leg parallel to the counter, her pointed toe just touching the counter top. She placed a potato on her muscular thigh and rapidly cut it into quarters. Once she had done this with half a dozen potatoes, the sharp knife slicing easily through them but making no headway against her smooth skin, she carried them to the stove and dunked them in a pot of boiling water, her hands lingering in the scalding liquid as though she enjoyed the sensation.

"Hmm, let's see," she mused as she returned to the sink. "I think it was this cupboard..." Slowly her leg rose into the air again, perfectly straight but this time moving past the counter and up to the handle of a cupboard door about one foot above her head and two feet to her right. Her toes, the nails of which were painted a deep red, slipped gently under the handle. Her leg then pulled back, opening the door in a stunning display of flexibility and balance. She removed a large pot and examined it, still holding the door open with her long leg, then shook her head and replaced it. Her foot swung the door shut again and gracefully returned to the floor. "I need a bigger one. Can you reach that one for me?" She pointed to a big soup pot sitting on top of the cupboard. I stood up, wondering why she didn't try to devise some strength-exhibiting method for retrieving the cookery in question, but almost immediately I realized her intentions. She took two steps toward me and planted her hand firmly but gently between my legs. My hand went to her shoulder for balance as she raised me from the floor, her arm extended and still utterly relaxed. She walked me over to the cabinet, my head six inches from the ceiling. "That's the one," she confirmed casually as I grabbed it. She lowered me slowly to the floor, giving me a quick but sensual peck on the cheek as she took the pot from me. "That's all I need."

I returned to my seat. Even when she wasn't showing off her superhuman strength and agility, I enjoyed watching the graceful movement of her nubile body as she boiled corn on the cob (again dunking her hands in the bubbling water), mashed the potatoes (crushing cloves of garlic into them with her slender fingers), and tidied up the kitchen while everything was finishing up. It was especially gratifying to watch her stretch to reach the higher shelves or bend down to access the lowest ones.

Finally she opened the oven and pulled out a large chicken with her bare hands. Poking a long finger into the cavity, she licked it salaciously and pronounced it done and delicious. Resting it on one arm, she carried it into the dining room along with the corn and potatoes.

She arrayed the meal on the table and demurely shed her apron. "Dig in," she instructed, pulling up her chair and dishing up a plate. She took a bite as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if her magnificent breasts weren't hovering, unclad and unsupported, above her steaming plate. Under the table her bare legs were crossed, one of her feet gently stroking along my leg. I followed suit, sitting across from her and gazing unabashedly at her tantalizing chest as I chewed the delicious food. She smiled, her foot moving up my pant leg toward my crotch.

"This is really good, baby," I said as casually as possible. Tammi's toes were moving playfully over the growing bulge in my slacks.

"Thank you, dear," she said calmly. She slipped another forkful of potatoes into her mouth, chewing slowly. Her foot wandered higher. Her toes closed tightly around the fabric of my shirt and pulled. It came untucked from my pants, then I started to feel the seams at my shoulders and back tearing. I tried to stay cool, eating nonchalantly as she tore my shirt away. Her toes returned to my raging erection. She slowly finished chewing the morsel in her mouth, then half-rose and leaned forward across the table. Her breasts mashed into the mashed potatoes as she pressed her open mouth against mine and thrust her tongue insistently between my lips. Her hands gripped the edge of the table; her left knee came up to rest beside her plate, followed by her right. She crawled forward, ignoring the plates and dishes of food she was upsetting. Gravy dripped from her left nipple onto my napkin. I stood up, still locked in the kiss, and pushed her backwards. She lay down between the buttered cobs of corn and the half-carved chicken carcass. She eagerly undid my belt and yanked my pants down to my knees, tearing the seams in the process. I leaned over her and licked potatoes and stuffing from between her quivering breasts. "Mmmmm," she sighed.

She was eyeing my throbbing cock, but I reached instead for a cob of corn, dripping melted butter, and teased her pussy lips with it. She gave me a quizzical smile, which changed to one of startled pleasure as I pushed the pebbled pabulum into her. "Ohhh..." she gasped, reveling in the sensation, "I never knew you were such a messy eater..." Her wandering hand found the chicken and tore off a chunk. She clenched her stomach into a washboard of hard, rippling muscle and rubbed the greasy meat all over it. I smiled and leaned forward to eat it off of her. As I finished I heard a muffled, hollow crunch. "Oops," she said with a guilty smile. I withdrew the shattered corn cob from her dripping cunt.

"Creamed corn," I smiled. "My favorite." And I plunged my face between her legs. She spread them wider and clamped her knees over the table's edges, moaning with pleasure as I lapped up her buttery juices and sucked on her quivering clitoris. When I knew she was on the brink of orgasm, I climbed back onto the table and thrust my cock into her.

Immediately her whole body tensed, all her muscles flexing into sharp relief. I fucked her with all my strength as she screamed hoarsely, bucking wildly underneath me. Suddenly the table gave out beneath us and we crashed to the floor, sending food flying everywhere. Still Tammi writhed frantically, her powerful legs kicking away chairs and dishes, as I licked the remains of our dinner from her sweating body. I continued pumping in and out of her as long and as hard as I could, until she climaxed a second time, her screams reverberating through the house. Finally I came, spending the last of my strength.

Tammi wrapped her arms and legs around my limp body and smiled. "Honey?" she whispered softly. I grunted. "I think tomorrow," she said, "you'd better satisfy me before we start dinner."

"Yes dear."