I love a woman who genuinely takes pride in taking care of her man. There is something special and pure in women and it surfaces in moments like these.
Knowing I bust my ass every day, for you. A pot of coffee when I roll my ass out of bed on a Saturday morning. A warm meal after a day of work. This shit does matter so don’t get all “I’m not a domestic servant” on me; you will feel the rewards in full when I buckle your knees and every day when I truck my ass down to the office when you rest away in your cozy bed.
But I like to cook too. Grilled burgers and steaks. Spinach omelets in the morning. And baking. That is my specialty. Pies pies and more pies.
But my favorite thing to do in the kitchen is this: to walk in, right after work, grab you by the hair, push your arms above your head, shove you up against the fridge, bend you over the counter, slide my hand down the front of your pants, finger your clit until you can hardly stand, and as you begin to collapse, push your waist up against the counter, and enter your sweet little holes from the back.
Fucking you relentlessly over the counter. Still fingering your clit. Pants down around our ankles. Until you drip down my balls and your inner thigh.
That. Is my vision of a good meal.