This means I'll be able to enjoy my meal in uninterrupted bliss, and after a quick Sign of the Cross, I'm finally able to dig in, and oh my Lord!
I feel like I'm about to have an orgasm as layers of cheese and ground beef create magic inside my mouth. I'm such a turophile I can taste each and every type of cheese there is with just one bite, and it's making my tastebuds sing like they're the next best thing after Lana Del Rey.
My eyes close as I take my time with each bite, and oh my goodness, how is this possible? How does this lasagna taste even better with each bite?
The rest of the world ceases to exist as I make love to my lasagna, and I'm halfway to clearing my plate when a shadow falls over me.
"Hi there. You alone?"
Nicolaas
The moment I see her start walking around the hall, I immediately notice the way her breasts are bouncing behind her dress.
They don't jiggle so hard that you know she's deliberately doing it for attention. It's more a sweet, gentle bounce, with her breasts seemingly too big that even her wire-rimmed bra isn't able to handle their weight.
Just the thought alone has me hard, and I have to swiftly get behind the nearest table before anyone spots the huge fucking bulge behind my pants.
I'm used to people obsessing over my sex life - it's a given, once your bank balance reaches a certain number of zeroes - and while the women I've dated would love to have the world know they're the reason for my hard-on...
I have a feeling my beautiful Francesca isn't quite like that.
She's friends with Mary for one, and the other girl is unlikely to hang out with attention whores. Also, there's just this strange feeling I have about her. Like I fucking know her, even though I actually don't.
Francesca Santiago might be a master of the recently revived art of written porn, but I have a feeling the racy nature of her work is a far cry from her real life.
I've been watching her since she arrived, and she's been pretty good at avoiding any kind of interaction with the opposite sex.
I'm not certain if it means she's shy or something happened to her in the past that's turned her off on men, but it doesn't matter either way. All I know is that the way she's keeping everyone at a distance is making me want her more.
Everything about Francesca is a fascinating contradiction.
While her face, which is completely bare of makeup, makes her seem like she's in her late teens, her body possesses curves so damn ripe they were guaranteed to tempt even a saint into committing sin.
Her air of innocence is beguiling and intriguing, and it makes one wonder how someone like Francesca is able to write such dirty-fucking-good stories.
I was curious enough to try reading one of her works, and let's just fucking say her story was hot enough it had me imagining Francesca as the heroine in her book...while I'm the bullying hero who ends up making her pussy bleed virginal blood with his cock.
Being reminded of the fuck scenes in her book is enough to make pre-cum leak out of my dick, and I bite back a curse as my pants start feeling tight. Again.
I've never wanted a woman this badly before, and the strength of my desire is almost disconcerting. I can't put a word to it, but there's just something about Francesca that's different—-
Just something about her that I find so insanely hot, you'd think I've gone without sex for an eternity.
It takes another ten minutes before my erection finally dies into a not-so-noticeable size...so to speak. 'Well-hung' is practically an understatement when it comes to my dick, but in its resting state at least, my pants are once again a comfortable fit, and I'm not in pain when I start to walk.
I keep Francesca in my line of sight as I go around and do my job. I make small talk with board members and investors, and if I see an employee who's done a particularly good job for tonight's event, I thank that person so they know they're valued.
But throughout it all, the need to fuck her continues to consume me, and it's getting harder to resist the urge to finally make my move. I've never been the type to let my baser desires rule my actions, but when I see Francesca hide at the back of the hall and start eating—-
FUCK.
She's practically making love to her fucking lasagna, and I love and hate it at the same time. Seeing her close her eyes as she feeds herself is one of the hottest things I've ever seen, but as ridiculous as this sounds...
I realize I'm also jealous.