I Don't Mind. . . Really!

. . . I don't mind. I took a chance. I don't regret making the choice I did, and honestly looking back, I would still make the same choice. Really, I'm fine. ", I said standing up, and placing my tank top back to its normal position. I hear him let out a sigh, clearly relieved. I was in for a surprise then, as he pulled my top back down, my cum-soaked breasts merrily bouncing out and free on display. I gasped aloud, and I shot him a look of surprise. He simply shrugged, before saying "Even if you don't have time to watch it off, you should at least leave it to dry first. It could bind your top to your skin, and you don't want that.

Despite it all, I found myself giggling softly, "Aww, how sweet!" I paused, before choosing to let the silence grow oppressive. Changing the subject, I start walking toward the chicken, and ask, "Now how about that Alfredo? Do you want me to help with cooking, or would you prefer if I set the table?"

Having been reminded of his meal plans, Joe quickly switched gears back to cooking. He watched his hands thoroughly and started getting the ingredients ready. I noted his strict belief in sanitation, noting how I had watched my hands, (oh, and checked my face for splashes of his seed on my face), before starting on food prep myself.

As he started to work, he turned briefly to me and said, "It's a rather simple recipe, and should not take much time or effort. Could you set the table and prepare the dining room? I Keep a few tablecloths, candles, and good silverware, in the living room. I keep them all in a hutch. You can miss it."

I nodded and caught some of the implications of what he said and grinned. "I did not realize you were a romantic! Candles!", I said, practically beaming. He knows how to make a lady feel welcome. Well, other than his desire for pouring some of his personal creamers on my jugs, I thought with more than a small helping of humour.

"It's the least I could do! While you are headed that way, don't forget to grab a bottle of wine. Whatever you think would go well with Alfredo." I gave him a surprised expression, wondering if my jaw was about to hit the floor, before grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge and heading out to the living room.

I worked quickly to set out two place settings around the round table, complete with wine glasses. Soon after finishing setting the table, he came out with salads and a bucket full of ice. I thanked him and placed the wine in the bucket, which he preceded to set on the nearby end table. I thanked him again before we dug into the salads. Small talk reigned supreme, bantering about our lives, cooking anyhow we came to be in the same city.

Once the salads were eaten, he left to check if the water was boiling yet. While he was away, I poured wine into each glass and returned it back to the bucket. It was not long before he was back, with a serving dish filled with pasta, and chicken The conversation was lively, and I ate the post long before I realized I had really remembered picking up my silverware. I don't remember how much wine I imbibed, but he filled my glass atlas once. Not that I minded.

Once that was done, he collected the plates and brought them back to the kitchen. He came swiftly back with cheesecake and a choice of toppings. We each and a slice on a dessert plate. I used cherry and chocolate, while he wanted it with chocolate, Oreo crumbles, and caramel. Once the food was done, we both got up, conning to carry the conversation with us to the kitchen.

We started by putting the food away and placing the dishwasher full of our dirty serving vessels. Once that was completed, I looked at the time: 11:57. I yawned and said "I loved the food, and the company was fantastic, but it's getting late. I should get to bed soon...

That's when he pulled me tight, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered something into my ear, before pointing at the bedroom suggestively.