Sometimes Words Have Two Meanings

Having worked all day at McMaster Auto Repair And Body Shop, and being blown =twice= in a six hour period, it was understandable that Bobby Gene Nelson fell asleep on the couch in Miss Szopas's living room. He had just slipped over on his side, his head on the arm rest, and drifted off to dreamland. The exhausted young man had not even bothered to pull up his pants and undershorts; the clothing just remained bunched up around his ankles.

He might would have slept there all night except his hostess was trying to wake him up. Squirming as he lay on his back, he opened his eyes and looked down his body. "What the...?" he gasped, trying to rise up into a sitting position. Miss Szopas placed her left hand on Bobby's chest, trying to calm him as she held his hard dick inside her mouth. She was running her tongue around in circles, her right hand clenched around the base of his erection.

"Wh...what are you doing?" he asked dumbly as he raised himself on his elbows. He could plainly see what she was doing.

Slowly lifting her head, letting this wet, saliva-coated cock slide out between her lips, she said in her strange accent, "I came in here to inform you that your food was ready. You looked so sweet and innocent sleeping like this..." She slid her fist up and down the shaft a few times, "I just could not help myself. Come on," she leaned forward to kiss the tip of his dick and rose to her feet, "We can finish this after you have had your dinner."

Bobby Gene felt more than a little foolish as he pulled up his clothing while watching Miss Szopas calmly sashay back to the kitchen. There was only one place-setting at the table, so he surmised that was where he was supposed to sit. "Aren't you going to join me?" he asked her as she brought a pot over from the stove him, ladling out what appeared to be some sort of goulash into the bowl sitting on his plate.

"I have already partaken of nourishment," she informed him. Which he understood to mean that while he was sleeping, she had eaten. Maybe that was a custom in her country; the men and women eat separately. After putting the pot back on the stove, Miss Szopas sat down on Bobby Gene's left side.

"It smells good." he commented as he picked up a spoon to try a sample. The slender dark haired lady was sitting with her hands under her chin, one clasped over the other, and her elbows on the table. She was watching his face intently to gauge his reaction. He blew across the spoon to somewhat cool the food and then slipped the spoon into his mouth. The mechanic's eyes went wide and he turned his head to look at her in pleasant surprise. "Heyyy," he drawled, "this is good."

His reaction made her happy but then she remembered something, "You have no drink!" She sprang from the table, quickly retrieved a cold can of beer from her refrigerator, and filled his glass. "There is also some bread that I baked," she pointed to the other plate with a round loaf that had about one quarter of it cut into thin slices.

"You bake your own bread?" he exclaimed, reaching for a slice and taking a bite. This was just getting better and better. A Blowjob Queen who was also a great cook.

"Here, like this," she said, gently taking the slice from his hands and folding it in half. She dipped it into the broth and lifted it to his mouth, her free hand cupped under the bread to catch any drippings.

Bobby Gene allowed her to hand feed him and when he became aware of the taste, his eyes closed. Together, the coarse bread and the hot meaty broth tasted better than they did separately. Opening his eyes, he said, "Miss Szopas, what..." Then he stopped. With a sheepish grin, he asked, "Do think it would o.k. if I called your by your first name instead of being so formal. I mean, you have..." And he made a gesture with both hands, pointing down at his lap.

She lowered her eyes and smiled a small, shy smile before looking up into his face again. "Yes. After such intimacies, it is a bit senseless to be so decorous." She leaned forward, her right hand dipping beneath the table top. "It is Sophia," she said, her hand covering his crotch. "My first name is Sophia, Bobby." She gave his penis a squeeze through the tight denim of his jeans. "Finish your argaiv before it gets cold," she told him, her hand still draped over his cock and balls.

"Argaiv," Bobby repeated, spooning up another mouthful of the meat and vegetable concoction. "I have never heard of it."

"It's a dish native to my land," she answered, drumming her fingers on his enclosed testicles as her dinner guest continued to eat.

For the rest of the meal they spoke about her homeland, her family, absent friends. Bobby Gene really did not follow everything she was saying. It was hard to concentrate while eating some of the best food he had ever tasted while at the same time the cook was feeling him up.

After he had finished a second bowl, and devoured all of the sliced bread, Bobby Gene said, "Let me do the dishes." He chuckled a mirthless chuckle. "I have to do 'em at home all the time now that I live alone."

"The dishes can wait, Bobby," Miss Szopas gripped the hard-on inside his jeans tightly. "We have some unfinished business to attend to...remember?"