Page 41 of Forbidden
The crazy thing is now putting on music, and she starts to dance around the kitchen.Playful, pure and innocent.
“Making apple pie. Using, cinnamon, vanilla, honey, and some other... Actually it’s a surprise, Grumpy!”
Storm checks on the pie, and she walks over to me holding a wooden spoon from a pan with a napkin. She stands in front of me, because I’ve pivoted in the chair I’m on.
“Careful of your suit!” she says, pushing her way between my legs.
Now, she is standing between my thighs, and her own thighs, and butt are inches away.
My hands are on my legs, but I want to grab her butt and drag her onto my cock.
I can almost smell her, and her pert breasts are at the height of my tongue, only inches away.
Again, she, or the universe is messing with me.
Forbidden.
Forbidden.
Forbidden.
Storm places the wooden spoon near my mouth, and our eyes meet.
“Open wide.”
I do as I’m told, when really I’d like to tell her to open wide. Storm eyes me, and she places the wooden spoon between my lips. While watching her face and sinful eyes, I lick it.
Slowly.
Our eyes lock, and she lifts her chin. My hands are fisted in frustration, but they want to pull her onto my lap, so I can sink my cock in her.
I think of yanking her panties down as I finish licking. I notice her squirm, when suddenly she dabs my nose with white powdery flour.
I shake my head, as if saying no.
Storm raises a playful brow, then she shakes hidden white flour from the tea towel over her arm.
Suddenly I have white flour all over my face and black suit! “What the hell?” I say, leaping up.
The crazy vixen squeals, and runs fast.
I chase her across the room, and before I know it, we are running around the kitchen island. I’m fast, but my formal shoes slip on the flour again. I manage to reach out in desperation, and I yank her feet with their long white fluffy socks.
We are suddenly on the tiles, and I grab flour from the island above.
Storm is putting up a heck of a fight, and she is giggling and kicking my hands away. We wrestle fast and hard, and she is like a wild savage.
She reaches up, for something, and I almost yank her down by pulling on her white cotton panties.
Somehow above on the island, her hand finds fresh cream. I yank her by the waist, and she drops back down.
As I throw flour on her, the vixen’s hands are lightning fast. Her slippery fingers coat my face with cream, and she tries to leap away.
She is now squealing like a crazy woman, and I’ve had enough.
This is way over the top.
My suit is likely screwed, and now useless. I’m furious, but I’m also excited, and losing control.
