Taking a breather

Feeling awkward, I escape into the kitchen without delay. The room feels tense because of Kelly’s comment, for one thing, and for another—well, I have plenty of experience saying goodbye to a woman whose pussy I’ve just eaten, or even two at a time—but seven? Plus four other women, one of whom I’ve been crushing on for what feels like half my life? I’m no social genius, but I think even someone who was would feel awkward in my shoes. What do you say? “Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week”? So, I take advantage of the distraction Kelly provided and slip out.

In the kitchen I find washcloths set out for me to clean up and a nice little spread—cold cuts and cheese, crackers, and little fruit tarts, plus a pitcher of ice water and a half-full coffeepot. I’m glad for the chance to wash my face, and the food and drink will be welcome; more than either, though, I want to jack off, and the kitchen is too open for that. I would have been tempted to slip off to the bathroom to take care of my erection, but I couldn’t have done that unobtrusively, and under the circumstances that concern trumped everything else.

I grab a plate and mug and stand at the island to eat. The coffee is bracingly strong as it clears my palate; I love eating pussy, but after seven different pussies in quick succession, I was starting to feel I’d had too much of a good thing. The simple, robust familiarity of hot coffee, roast beef and cheddar feels like a welcome reset. I definitely want to try a tart or two . . . or maybe three . . . Heather’s mom is a wonderful baker, and Heather is following in her footsteps—but pussy juice followed immediately by dessert would be too much sweet. Right now, I’m glad to have something savory.

I eat for a while, then let my mind wander. When I realize I’ve been staring at a peach tart for some length of time, I put it on my plate and pour myself some more coffee. It turns out to be a ginger-peach tart, and absolutely wonderful. I try to eat it slowly, but it doesn’t last long.

Just as I wash the last bite down with a swallow of coffee, I hear footsteps behind me.