Cooking with Molly

Author's Note: This story is a sequel to The Best Handjob in Iowa, although it's not necessary to have read it to enjoy this one. Still, it's really short, so you may as well.

The author does not vouch for the safety and/or sanitariness of any of the practices depicted in this story. This is a fantasy.

-~-

When I saw Molly through the mass of young bodies I almost did a double-take. It had been months, but I still had her face seared into my memory, especially that exuberant, half-drunk grin she had worn as she wiped a strand of cum off her cheek. I thought I was just seeing things. She was a roadside attraction in Cornland, not one of Florida's gloriously slutty party girls.

But there she was again, ducking and weaving her way through the throng. Her face was flushed red. She waved frantically again and, drawn to her like a magnet, I started pushing towards her.

Molly lifted the cocktail in her hand to me like a toast. She called my name. "I thought I was gonna see you again."

"Huh? Why?"

She shrugged. She was constantly in motion, hips and shoulders undulating to the music. "I just had a feeling. Feminine intuition."

I realized that Molly had the same grin on her face that my family's cat had when it was batting a mouse between its paws. Still, I would let her play with me any day of the week. I gamely tried to dance, forcing my body --bloated on roadside burgers as it was -- into some semblance of rhythm. "Me, I'm totally surprised. So what brings you to Florida?"

"I'm housesitting for my cousin."

"Awful long way to go to housesit."

Molly shrugged. "Well, really, it's more of a vacation for me. I was getting sick of Iowa."

I nodded dumbly. I was currently trying to devise a suave approach to get in her pants again. Although I hadn't really gotten in there the first time. But as usual, my inner Don Juan was asleep on the job, if not lying dead in some mental gutter.

Fortunately for me, Molly had similar intentions. "You want to come over some time? For dinner?"

"Uh... sure, I would love to."

"Great!" Molly clapped her hands together like a kindergarten teacher. "We can cook something together. Nothing sexier than eating in."

"Personally, I prefer eating out." I winced as soon as I said it.

"Oh, I see what you did there," she laughed. Well, at least I didn't get slapped.

I was only in town until Friday. After that I would be hurtling across the country again, as though I had ran into some kind of giant sling-shot. So we made the dinner date for Thursday. The two days in between were some of the hungriest of my life.

--

Molly's cousin was either loaded or had an exceptional real estate agent. Her house was a gorgeous split-level right on the beach, all white and blue. It was like stepping into a postcard. It was beautiful inside too, decorated with soft colours and gorgeous art. I wasn't the type of guy who appreciates interior decorating -- hell, I'm a trucker -- but it was nice, you know?

Molly was in the kitchen when I arrived, wearing a halter top, black shorts that clung to her ass like paint, and a pink apron. Some light music -- some of that indy crap I don't know anything about -- was playing on the radio as she spun around the kitchen, chopping up vegetables and tossing them into a big salad bowl. She waved frantically at me as I came in.

"I was hoping you would come! I've got a roast in the oven, desert in the fridge, and I'm just working on the appetizer now."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world, darling."

She giggled. "I like you. You remind me of an old movie actor -- like Humphrey Bogart or something."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Is that a good thing?"

"Hells yeah. Those guys were hot." Molly started squirting the salad dressing.

I studied her backside as she moved. God, she was a little piece of dynamite, lithe and powerful and joyful. Maybe it was just because seeing her with the dressing made me remember the last time I had seen her with white stuff squirting between her hands. But I was suddenly desperate for her.

I moved in and slung my arms around her, then kissed her shoulder. She laughed as I licked my way up her neck. "Now now. Aren't you going to wait for dinner?"

"But I want desert nooow," I said, channelling my inner child.

Molly grabbed one of the dressing-soaked leaves from the top of the salad bowl. "You have to eat your vegetables first." The leaf slipped from between her fingers (okay, it was completely intentional) and landed in the valley between her breasts.

"Whatever you say." I leaned down and kissed the small gap between those two glorious orbs. The salty taste of her sweat was exhilarating. I could barely see that green leaf nestled down at the bottom of her cleavage, but was intent at working my way towards it. Molly helped out, grabbing me by the hair and pushing me deeper into her breasts

Her soft titflesh was all around me, rubbing up against my cheeks. The leaf of lettuce, my ridiculous but all-important goal, was within reach now. I extended my tongue and took an exploratory lick along the goosebumpy flesh of her breasts. I was in pretty much any straight man's idea of heaven. My tongue encountered a spot of dressing on its path and licked it up. It was an intriguing contrast to the taste of her skin. Finally, I snagged the leaf and slurped it up. It tasted like her.

I reluctantly removed my face from that soft, dark valley. The outside world seemed so bright by contrast. Molly had a giddy grin on her face, like she couldn't believe what she'd just done -- or what she was about to do. It was a bit juvenile, I'll be the first to admit... but it was a hell of a lot of fun.

"If I could eat it like that, I'd have salad more often," I said.

"Really?" Molly grabbed a handful of the salad and tossed it over her breasts. "Come and get it."

I was soon buried in her cleavage again, chowing down with gusto. She giggled as my lips tickled the top of her tits. Her flimsy shirt, now stained with salad dressing, made it all too easy to see her stiff nipples straining to escape the fabric.

"I love healthy eating," I said.

Molly waltzed over and wordlessly sat on the kitchen table. She popped off her shorts and panties with an almost casual motion, like no one was looking. My eyes travelled down her long, trim legs, but before they could get to their destination she had grabbed some more salad and laid it over her nether regions. She cocked an inviting eyebrow at me.

"Gives a whole new meaning to tossing the salad," I said as I moved in. I don't think Molly appreciated my sense of humour at that moment.

It was like one of those Japanese puzzle games where as you played you slowly unveiled a picture of a naked woman. As I feasted on the splendour between her legs (and it was delicious salad, complimented by a hint of Molly's unique flavour), more and more of her cute little cunt was revealed to me. It was a soft, glistening pink opening between her thighs, youthful and eager. She had just a light triangular patch of hair. After I had dispensed with the leafy greens I buried my face deeper into her crotch and began licking and sucking the meat underneath.

Molly groaned and pushed me in deeper. I sought out her clit with my tongue and treated it for a while, then switched back to her moist lower lips. She was so tight it was hard for even my tongue to gain passage. I couldn't imagine what fucking her would be like.

After some more oral attention I felt her body moving above me. "You know, I just remembered that I forgot an ingredient." I looked up in confusion. From somewhere (probably the kitchen counter) Molly had produced a whole cucumber and was eyeing it smokily.

I had heard of girls doing things like this, but I had always taken it as an urban legend. But now I was watching Molly rub the cucumber against her pussy not two inches from my face, and it was strangely hot. She passed the other end of the phallic vegetable to me, and it was clear what I was supposed to do with it. I hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided that no matter how weird this got, I was willing to follow Molly down the rabbit hole... and any other holes, of course.

She was a little resistant at first, but eventually I managed to slide the tip of the cucumber into her pussy. Molly let out a deep breath as the thick object entered her. I privately wasn't sure it would fit, but kept pressing, and inch by inch it vanished up into her body. The sight of her with that poor vegetable hanging out of her cunt was so lewd and obscene that I felt like I was about to come in my pants right then.

I began fucking her with it, slowly moving it in and out, and then picking up the tempo. Molly's grunts and moans matched pace with me as she was stretched to the limit by the foreign object. "Harder... faster..." I could hear her mutter, and started thrusting the cucumber into her quivering pussy as fast as I could manage.

Her face was red and she was letting out long tortured breaths like she was about to cry. I took this to mean that she was on the edge. Finally she batted away my too-meek hand and started frigging herself as fast as she could manage, her other hand diddling her clit like there was no tomorrow. She let out a sharp gasp and I thought she had come. I was mistaken.

Molly kept going, thrusting the cucumber in and out of her sopping snatch. Her hips were pumping so hard that she was practically jumping off the table. And then it hit. A clear liquid sprang from her cunt with all the forces of water from a hose, splashing my face and shirt. The almost overpowering scent of Molly's musk exuded from her girlcum. She had fallen on her back, vegetable phallus still sticking out of her, and was screaming bloody murder as her hips thrust up at the ceiling involuntarily.

It took her a while before she could form words again. I grabbed a dishtowel and used it to wipe her spray off me. I couldn't believe the explosiveness of her orgasm, a phenomenon that must have felt like nirvana and looked like a seizure. In fact, I had to check on her to make sure she was okay. She just gave me a glassy-eyed smile.

"Jesus," I said. "You never told me you were a squirter."

"Only sometimes," she said, between deep pants. "Sorry if I hit you."

"Are you kidding? It was hot."

Molly's smile wasn't going away. "You know, I've been looking for a playmate who can keep up with me. You keep your open mind, you might just end up being the guy." She stretched out on her hard kitchen table. "Fuck. Nothing in the world like a really good come."

She slowly slid the cucumber out of herself. Her pussy was red and raw from the pounding we had both inflicted upon it. She offered me the cucumber, most of it dripping with her juices. I blanched a little.

"Hey, if you don't finish your vegetables you won't get dessert." I remembered Molly's words of encouragement about keeping an open mind. I grabbed the slick vegetable and bit into it. Her fleshy taste actually blended well with the watery cucumber, creating a kind of tangy flavour. I took another bite and passed it to her. Molly gamely had a mouthful.

I couldn't help but giggle. "God, I can't believe we did that."

"What's with the past tense?" Molly said. "You still have a nice sausage for me, don't you?" She pointed at the tent in my jeans. I had been too distracted by her body and her perverse mind to really notice it, but I was painfully erect, and now that I thought of it my cock's hunger seemed all-powerful. I wanted to fuck Molly for real, feel that tight grip and that frantic humping under myself.

"I sure do." My pants and underwear joined Molly's on the floor. My hard red prick stood straight forward as if it was saluting the mistress of depravity.

Molly dropped to her knees and examined my cock like a connoisseur. She licked her lips. "Now, how should I eat this delicious sausage? Hmm..."

"Any way you like, baby."

Molly slapped my thigh. "The meal should not talk back. Now hang on while I get some condiments." She walked away and went to the fridge, the refrigerated cool threatening my erection but ending quickly.

She returned with a handful of bottles which I couldn't really see. Molly nuzzled her cheek up against my cock, licking at the base with the tip of her tongue, and instantly dispelled any encroaching flaccidity. "Now, you be nice and quiet, or else I'll use the hot sauce." Sure enough, she held up a bottle of fiery red liquid. I imagined the pain it could wreak on my genitals and winced. Of course, she wouldn't really do that. Would she?

I nodded my silent assent. "Good meal," Molly said with a lick of her lips. The places this girl went to. "Now what should I have on my big meaty sausage? Hmm... well, some ketchup is a must."

I flinched, partly in disbelief, as she began pouring the cold red condiment on my cock just like she would a real hot dog. She dawdled a little zig-zag line with the ketchup. It felt strange, the cold liquid touching my hot dick. It might have just been my mind, but I almost felt like I could taste it through the flesh of my cock.

"Yummy." Molly ever so slowly took my tip in her mouth, closing her lips around it. I felt her tongue licking the ketchup off the top, savouring the taste. I imagined it must taste a bit like the food on her body had to me -- two familiar flavours from radically different worlds in erotic juxtaposition.

And then she was travelling further and further down, her tongue travelling along the top of my cock, licking up the ketchup she had just deposited there. Of course, the underside of my dick got its fair share of tongue-washing as well. Molly muttered little throaty moans as she went along, sampling the flavour of her tasty meal. Then she took my head in her mouth again and slowly slid down again until her lips were touching my base and I could feel the tightness of her throat at the end of my cock. Her tongue was working in overdrive to clean my dick and send me to the moon alongside it. Molly may have been famous for her handjobs, but she was equally skilled with her mouth, and despite her instructions to keep silent I was whimpering as sheer pleasure coarsed through me. When she released me from her mouth with a lusty pop, my manhood was sticky with her saliva but completely clean of garnish. The only red I could see was in the inflamed, hungry purple of my cock's skin.

"Now what else should I put on here? You know, I've always liked relish on my sausages as well." She pulled up a jar of relish and dug two fingers into it, producing a nice gob of the green stuff to spread on my cock. And then it was the same process: slowly licking it off me, from tip to tail, and then swallowing my cock to remove any residue with her loving sucking. Whenever she would have me on the edge, she would break off to resume eating, keeping me in a state of frustrated ecstasy.

"And of course, a little bit of gravy makes everything better." A bottle of (thankfully lukewarm) gravy poured over my cock and passed it, splattering Molly's top, which had somehow survived all of this. The now sodden piece of clothing clung to her, revealing the contours of her body like a perverted observer. Her hard nipples were now plainly visible.

This one was quite a bit sloppier -- she just swallowed my cock and tried to leech the running flavour up it, bobbing her head up and down in her gluttony. She had this absolutely wanton look on her face, like she wanted nothing more than to have my cock (with assorted garnishes) for every meal.

My cock was practically humming with the oral ecstasy she was visiting upon it, and the pleasure was coursing in waves through my body. My knees were beginning to shake, and I had to reach out and use a countertop for balance. Sensing the kill, Molly took me all the way into her mouth again. The tight muscles at the gate of her throat combined with the sight of her pink lips touching the base of my cock was enough to send me over the edge.

"Coming," I grunted as a warning. Molly just looked up at me wryly, relishing (no pun intended) in her total control over me. I shuddered as I shot one string of my cum after another down her throat, which she dutifully gulped down.

After I finished coming I had to sit down on the floor, my legs still shaky. Molly bent over and took my softening cock in her mouth once more, lovingly cleaning it with her tongue. She coaxed the last dregs of cum out of me like she was picking at the last scraps of a delicious meal. I guess she was.

We both broke out into giggles, sitting there on the kitchen floor in post-orgasmic bliss. I certainly couldn't believe I was doing something this warped. Molly looked like she had surprised herself as well, even if she was leading the proceedings. I wondered what other depravities the night had in store for us, and almost got hard again at the thought.

"So," I said. "Are we going to actually eat now?"

"I just had a nice big dinner. I don't know about you."

"I had some tossed salad, but I'm still a little hungry."

Molly got up with another wicked grin on her face. "Well then, how about a little desert?"

I followed her to the refrigerator, wondering what else there was in there she could make use of. She pulled out a can of whipped cream, a bowl of chocolate sauce, and a carton of ice cream. I wondered if she had prepared this all in advance.

Molly sat back up on the kitchen table and pulled off her shirt and bra, both of which were still soaked through with gravy. I had gotten a pretty good idea of what her breasts looked like, but I still took a moment to feast my eyes on her upper body. Her tits weren't huge but were perfectly pert and round, and they looked like a perfect fit for my hands. Her skin was unblemished and perfectly alluring.

She looked at her gathered foods ponderously. Finally, she picked up the whipped cream. She gave herself a liberal spray, coating her breasts with the white stuff and letting clumps of whipped cream fall down across her stomach and onto her thighs. She raised her eyebrows and beckoned me with her hands.

I didn't need to be told twice. I approached her in almost a hypnotic stupor and began to lick the whipped cream off her. I started with a clump that had gathered in her navel, then slowly followed its path up her torso. She shivered at the contact with my tongue, and lewdly groaned when I finally reached those perfect breasts of hers. I whisked my tongue around each tit like a kid licking the last drops of sweetness of his plate, until each soft breast was completely clean.

A blob of cream had fallen onto her thigh, so I scooped it up with my fingers and offered it to her. Molly took my fingers into her mouth and lovingly sucked all the street stuff off of them. The feel of my tongue made me remember the exquisite blowjob I had just received, making my cock twitch.

"So, the whipped cream and chocolate are pretty simple," I said. "A little vanilla, even. But what's with the ice cream?"

"It's vanilla too."

I groaned. Well, I had left myself open. Molly grinned. "Why don't you take a scoop and serve it up on me?"

The ice cream was still cold, and I was a bit worried about Molly's apparently sensitive skin. But I decided to give it a shot, trying to tap into that adventurous spirit that flowed from her like an overpowering perfume. I found the house's ice cream scoop with a bit of guidance, and scooped out a big chunk of vanilla, which I gingerly deposited between Molly's breasts.

She hissed as soon as the cold ice cream made contact, but when I tried to move it she batted my hand away. "More." I put a small scoop on top of each breast. She was shivering, but had a smile on her face, and her pussy was wet. "So cold... so good." The ice cream was melting into small streams that roamed over her body like tendrils, flowing through her hills and valleys. She let out gasps that sounded almost aggrieved.