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OUT OF THE FRYING PAN

T he next day, I take him for brunch at one of my favorite spots that I’ve visited before. It’s owned by a celebrity chef who has appeared on a reality TV show.

We share a gorgeous plate of jidori chicken, as well as their famed hash browns, and a couple of brunch cocktails.

Timmy banters with the server, an alternative-looking guy with piercings and tattoos. He’s friendly, and the conversation is funny. Then things get a little weird.

“I’m going to take this cast-iron frying pan when we leave,” Timmy announces, indicating the dish on the table in front of us.

“Okay, do what you gotta do, man,” says the server, his eyes widening as if Timmy just ordered a spaceship off the menu.

I think Timmy’s joking, but as we pay up, he puts the frying pan down on his chair beside him. And when we go to leave, he picks it up and walks out with it.

“Timmy, what are you doing?” I whisper loudly. “You can’t take that!”

“Shh,” he says. “You should be grateful. I got this for your apartment.”

“But it belongs to the restaurant! ”

“They won’t miss it,” he rolls his eyes. “Besides, the server said we could keep it. He gave me permission to take it.”

I think back to my time working in restaurants. “That’s not really his decision to make, Timmy. And besides, I think he thought you were joking. I know I did.”

He sighs as if I’m the most annoying drag ever. “Just be grateful, Margaux. I got you a frying pan for your apartment, for god’s sake. Lighten up. You’re always so uptight.”

I shake off my apprehension as we drive to the beach, helped by it being a gorgeous day. The sky is turquoise, the ocean is teal, and the sand is a warm and toasty golden brown.

I watch as Timmy runs into the water and floats for a while.

The swimming time seems to lift his spirits again, and when he gets out of the water he’s super affectionate. I feel relieved, and I’m over the whole frying pan scenario. I just want to have a nice day with Timmy.

I feel my cheeks blushing as I bend over in front of him, my heart pounding in anticipation. Timmy's voice is rough, commanding, and I can't help but comply as he growls at me to raise my ass high in the air and get down low on my forearms. I try to steady my breathing as I follow his instructions, my breasts hanging down, my pussy already slick with arousal and anticipation.

"Oh, look at you," he purrs, his voice low and dangerous. "You're all wet for me, aren't you?" he asks, his fingers trailing lightly up my inner thighs, sending shivers down my spine. "You must be thirsty for it, huh?"

I can't help but moan in response, my body betraying my need for him. His fingertips graze my swollen lips and I gasp, my hips bucking towards him involuntarily. "Such a naughty girl," he chuckles, his breath hot against my ear as he leans in close.

I feel his warm lips on my neck, trailing feather-light kisses down my spine, and I arch my back, my body begging for more. His tongue grazes my shoulder blade, and I moan again, my pussy clenching in anticipation of what's to come.

Then, without warning, his tongue is on me, licking broad, wet strokes from my wettest parts all the way up to my back entrance. I gasp, my hips bucking against him involuntarily as he laps at my ass, his tongue painting delicious, dirty circles around the sensitive opening.

"Let me in, baby," he groans, his voice muffled by my ass. "I know how much you love it."

"Yes," I whimper, my voice barely above a whisper. "I love it, Timmy. I want it so bad."

He chuckles and I feel him position himself, his fingers probing at my entrance, loosening me up for what's to come. "You're so tight, Margaux," he groans, his breaths coming in pants as he works me open. "God, I need to taste you."

And then, his tongue is inside me, invading my most private of places, licking and worshipping every last inch of me. My moans fill the room, my fingers digging into the sheets as I elevate onto my tiptoes, giving him better access. His tongue is relentless, probing my forbidden entrance while his fingers work magic on my aching clit.

"Oh fuck, Timmy!" I moan, my hips bucking against him as my orgasm builds. "I'm so close, baby. Don't stop."

But he does stop, withdrawing his fingers and tongue with a wet, loud sound, leaving me aching and wanting more. I whine in protest, my body convulsing with need.

"I know what you want, baby," he says, his voice a low growl in my ear. "But first, I want to see you come apart on my cock."

Slowly, he pulls me up until I'm straddling him, my back to his chest. His cock, hard and throbbing, presses against my entrance. "Ride it, Margaux," he growls in my ear, running his hands over my breasts, squeezing them roughly. "Show me how much you want it."

I don't need any more encouragement. With a moan, I lower myself onto him, inch by agonizing inch. His girth stretches me, sending blissful pain coursing through my body. I bite my lip, both to muffle my moans and to focus on the pleasure and pain that engulf me. When he's all the way inside, our bodies flush against each other, I throw my head back and moan in ecstasy.

"Oh fuck, Margaux," Timmy groans, his hands gripping my hips. "You feel so good, so fucking tight."

In response, I start moving my hips, grinding against him, taking him deep within me and then pulling away, only to repeat the motion again and again. He moans, his breathing ragged in my ear, spurring me on to go faster, harder.

"That's it, baby," he pants, his grip on my hips tightening. "Ride me, Margaux. Fuck, you feel so good."

His dirty talk sends me over the edge, and my orgasm builds in my core, tightening my muscles around him. "Timmy," I moan, my voice breathless. "I'm... I'm..."

"That's right, baby," he growls, his thrusts matching my rhythm. "Come for me, Margaux. Let go."

At his command, I do just that, my body shuddering and convulsing around him as I climax, my juices soaking his cock.

Timmy groans, his body tensing, and then with a final thrust, he spills his seed within me, our moans intermingling in the dark, air-conditioned room.

Afterward, panting and spent, I collapse against his chest, my back pressed against his sweaty torso. His arms wrap around me, holding me close. "That was...," I start to say, but I can't find the words to describe the intensity of the moment we just shared.

"I know," he whispers, kissing my hair. "It's just the beginning, Margaux. There's so much more where that came from."

And as we lie here, tangled in each other's arms, I believe him.

Timmy’s words echo in my head as I catch my breath, my body still tingling with the aftermath of my orgasm. I can't believe how much I enjoyed reverse cowgirl. The way he'd filled me up, stretching me to my limits, had been both thrilling and overwhelming in the best possible way.

He must sense my thoughts because he gently nudges me. "Ready for more, Margaux?" he asks, his voice a low growl in my ear.

I turn around to face him, my hair cascading over my shoulder as I straddle him. He’s already hard again, his cock jutting out from his body, thick and throbbing. I run my fingertips along his length, teasingly, making him moan.

"I want you to fuck me doggy style," I purr, my confidence soaring. “I want to feel you deep inside me from behind, Timmy.”

His eyes darken, his pupils dilating with desire. "Oh, baby, I've been waiting for you to say that."

He places one of the sex wedges on the corner of the bed, then rolls me over onto my stomach, my belly pressed against the cool, soft pillow. My heart pounds in anticipation as he spreads my legs apart, positioning himself at my entrance.

I arch my back, offering myself up to him, and, with one swift thrust, he enters me. Then he moves my legs back together so that my pussy squeezes even more tightly around his incredible cock.

"God, Margaux," he groans, his hips working me in a rhythm that borders on punishing yet oh so delicious. "You feel so good, so tight."

I grip the sheets, my moans muffled by the pillow as he pounds into me relentlessly. It doesn't take long before the familiar sensation of ecstasy begins to build again, coiling low in my belly, threatening to break free.

"I'm...I'm..." I pant, my body tense with pleasure.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his grip on my hips bruising, but in the best way possible. "Come for me, Margaux."

And with those final words, I shatter into a million pieces, my orgasm ripping through me, taking Timmy with me as he groans his own release, collapsing on top of me, both of us panting and spent.

We lay there, entangled in each other's arms, for what feels like hours. And in this moment, all I can think about is how glad I am to have trusted my instincts and given in to this electric connection between us.

As we catch our breath, Timmy kisses my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "I can't wait to see what other boundaries we can push together."

I turn my head to look at him, a sultry smile playing on my lips, "Trust me, Timmy, this is only the beginning... "

And as our gazes interlock, I know we’re both thinking the same thing: this is just the start of something intense, passionate, and utterly consuming.

The rest of the day is really chill and fun. We spend most of it naked, cuddling each other.

At one point, we put clothing on and walk down to the boardwalk and check out some surf shops. I laugh as Timmy picks up an ornamental conch shell in one of the stores, and blows it. People gasp and look over in delight. Just another quirky thing that Timmy knows how to do.

Later, we return to my apartment, and I drift off to sleep, safe and content in Timmy’s strong arms, our bodies entwined, our hearts beating as one.

I’m glad I just shut up about the frying pan and let the rest of the day move along happily. Still, I really don’t like that he took it.

But for now, I’ll enjoy the sensations of my body and the memories we made, and I’ll worry about the rest another day.