A Matter of Taste Ch. 01

I faced the wall and willed it to shrink. Walking together, her face wet with my pee, no one knew the difference; it looked like bath water. We laughed and went in a very hot steam sauna.

We lay down on different benches, my eyes close to her crotch level. The air was thick with steam and there were several people in there. It was fairly dark and very hot and wet. We returned to our wet-noodle state of depleted energy. I closed my eyes and thought about her, about peeing into her face. What a perfect piss cunt to meet, I thought. I opened my eyes suddenly to the sound of someone in a far corner pouring cold water from the wooden ladle over himself and his companion. They returned to their seats. I took a look at Carla, one step above me, flayed out in the steam. Her hand was buried deep in her cunt, which was wide open, viewable only to my angle; two fingers silently playing with the lips, dripping with wetness. It was steamy and wispy and hard to see anything further than a few feet away, so I don't even know if she saw me. I was thinking, "this chick is sex; pure lust, dirty, nasty, uninhibited, and willing. And she wants me." Anything more and I probably would've come on the spot.

I had my fingers up my twat getting my insides ready while the steam and heat clouded our sauna. I'm sure he peeked and saw me. I wanted to know how far I could go. If there were no other people in the room, I might have tried sitting on him or at least putting one of his fingers in me, just for fun. I was completely free and feeling like I could break every social ritual around. If it hadn't been for the incredible heat and the shrunken state of our energy, he would've burst his balls right there, I was sure.

We left the sauna and jumped in a cold pool, shocking us back to brittle feeling. We quickly went into a very hot bubbling tub with about ten others in it. We sat on the bubbles and she turned to me, putting a hand on my thigh, brushing my limp underwater cock lightly.

"Are you going to invite me to dinner, or do you have some important business meeting?"

I told her of my favorite restaurant in the city, which she not only knew of, but knew the chef as well and was impressed that I selected it.

"I already have an 8 p.m. reservation, I'm sure they'll find room for two of us."

We talked about how and when to meet and discovered we were staying in the same hotel. We left the water, returned to the locker rooms, got dressed and left.

We walked back to the hotel very relaxed, me unbelievably horny, and stopped at the bar for a drink before going to our rooms for a rest.

An anxious hour later I met him in the lobby and we proceeded to the restaurant on foot. I wore my black elegant low-cut dress, high heels worn very chic.

Man was she a knockout and she had the unusual ability to be able to walk in those fuck-me shoes. Her blond hair contrasted against her dark clothes in a stunning manner. She started telling me her wishes as we walked.

"Since no one really satisfies my cravings, I don't make a habit of extra-marital affairs, I satisfy myself. I've always had a great ass since high school, but no one fucks it, certainly not my husband, and I think a lot of having it filled with pleasure. Now I want to put anything and everything up it, when I do myself at home, I use a lot of foods, I've even bought some dirty toys over the years. Why am I telling you this?"

I was stunned and my dick was jerking to attention as we walked.

"Because I'm really relaxed, far from home, and you've peed on my face before I've even gotten to know you," she laughed.

I was thinking about all the after-hours experimentation at the restaurant with zucchini and cucumbers in my office. I once slid an enormous beautiful curved English cucumber into my back hole with butter to help it in, it was so dirty. I remember plain as day, I casually walked into the vegetable cooler, clipboard in hand and picked out a good sample. On my way back to the office, I stole a prepared cup of whipped butter on a tray among dozens. I locked my office door, sat down on my chair, put my feet on the desk and eased off my pants and panties. I buttered my asshole good; I just frigged my clit and pumped the organic vegetable in and out until I came monumentally. I don't think I had any pain or trouble getting it in, though I'm sure I went in slowly. I remember that time in particular, I took out the hard, now warm tube, the end tainted brown and filmy; I licked it off and felt really naughty. I always think of the bitterness now when I eat cucumbers. The other management staff had all gone home, it was around 1:30 at night, only the cleaning staff was still there and I heard them talking only a few yards away outside my locked door.

Like a gentleman, he held the door for me when we arrived. We were shown to a good table and the maitre d' recognized me and kissed both cheeks, surprised at my guest, whom she didn't know. The bar sent over some complimentary glasses of champagne and we ordered.

On top of being rather cute and apparently interested in me, he seemed really smart and well-travelled. He did interesting work, knew a lot about all sorts of things and cared a tremendous amount about food, a real asset in my book. He was a great conversationalist and we talked for what seemed like hours. Perhaps it was the long lost feeling of meeting someone new after routine sets into your romantic life and you yearn for the little pings that create electricity up and down your spine. We polished off a bottle of very expensive wine and were well into our second bottle. Our third and main courses were in front of us, partially finished as we were slowing down a little. We had grown quite intimate since arriving at the restaurant, much more than at the baths as we discovered we really liked each other.

The wine had made us certainly looser and we began searching each other's eyes.

"Why did you tell me all about your ass obsession?," he asked me.

"I told you, I just felt comfortable with you, I don't know why; probably because I tasted your piss and think you might even have some nasty thoughts of your own. You have to understand my life; I'm a housewife to a very considerate but conservative man. I have a high profile job in a very trendy place where most of my employees are gay and probably are not only really nasty, but are fucking each other during their shifts in my freezers sticking salamis and cucumbers inside each other before serving them up to unsuspecting customers. I have to go along being a pure spirit and thinking only about the output of my restaurant. I have sensuous feelings too; probably more developed than those young animals who work for me; only I have no outlet, no one to even talk about it with, not even my best friend, who, incidentally, is bisexual herself."

He was silent while taking it all in. He poured us both some more wine.

"I guess I understand, Carla," he said, "but do you want me to exchange my secrets with you? Is that what you want?"

I looked at him warmly and whispered,

"Not your secrets, Red, but your substance; your fluids, your love, your lust. I'm horny and you hit a spot for me. Can you handle true lust and absolute nastiness?"

"Not only can I handle it, love, I wrote the book on it."

"We'll see about that," I replied. "I have to pee, all that wine."

She left the table and I continued to work on my glass, my venison medallions half-eaten and top-rate. I didn't want to eat without her so I waited patiently. A flashing fear ran through me that she had escaped suddenly, having committed an enormous joke and leaving me with a bulging erection and shattered fantasies. But no, she returned a short while later and sat down elegantly.

She looks me in the face and says gently, "I peed a gallon or two; I was thinking of you wetting my face today. I wanted to save some for you, but I have a feeling there will be more."

Replacing her napkin on her lap, she took out a small folded tissue from her purse and catches my eye. Unfolding it on the corner of the table, she removes a small dark morsel that looks like a small round piece of dark meat. She carefully forks it on my plate, like another piece of venison, and delicately covers it with sauce and morels; she is after all a chef. She returns the tissue to her own lap. Looking carefully in the dim romantic light, I am stunned to identify the tidbit as something to have freshly left her exquisite inners. This amazing beauty whom I have seen naked, drooled over, have pissed on but not yet even kissed, has lovingly given me a sampling of her brown butter to eat, in public, no less. I have never felt so excited at the prospect of eating something. Our eyes locked. My dick was pressing not only against my pants leg but was trying to lift the entire table.

"I've made something for you, try it," she said while looking around to see if anyone noticed anything.

I took my knife, cut it in half gently, put some sauce on it and forked it to my mouth. I chewed carefully. It's a bit hard, not tough as my saliva breaks it down. I taste the dark bitter lust flavor, very gut-tasting, but not too different from the venison, though much stronger. Somewhat salty but more bitter. The morels make it earthy. I push it alongside my molars before swallowing, letting her know I've done it. She stares at me and runs her tongue along her lower lip. I lift my wine glass to my lips to wash it down. She immediately places her fork into the remaining half and as she begins placing some sauce upon it, we are interrupted.

"Madame Carla, how nice to see you again. How is your meal?"

It is the chef of the restaurant, who obviously has met Carla, knows of her fame, and has paid our table a courtesy visit. Other diners have their eyes on us. I think he's staring at the newly added tidbits. Carla makes friendly introductions between the two of us.

"I see you have ordered the venison, I trust you find it to your satisfaction?" he asked, almost suspiciously.

"It's unbelievable, I've never tasted anything like it before," I reply.

He bows formally, kisses her on both cheeks, and returns to the kitchen.

While giggling with embarrassment, Carla eats her morsel slowly, holding my eyes with hers. I watch her chew, moving it around her mouth and swallowing the self-gift. I have never seen or done anything so nasty.

"It's kind of hard because that's the best I could get for you, I get really constipated while traveling. It doesn't bother me much, but only a little comes out at a time. I don't think I've had a good dump yet. She leans over and whispers, "You want to fuck me silly, don't you?"

I answer, "I want to fuck you endlessly, everywhere, let's skip desert. I've been thinking about eating your cunt all night, since we came here."

"I want you to eat my ass," she replies, "All of it. I want to wake up tomorrow morning with the feeling of your cum coolly dripping from my dank back hole."

She pulls out a cigarette and tauntingly calls the waiter over to order dessert and coffee. Giving in to her whims, her excruciating teasing, I order cognac for us.

I light a big expensive cigar and we leave the restaurant kind of rolling, holding onto each other. I've swallowed her morsel and still can't believe it. I push her gently into a doorway and kiss her lips. Out tongues greet each other. First the cigar, then the cognac, most recently washed over my taste buds, has the strongest flavor, but I definitely taste her mud. I lick the sides of her teeth and capture her tongue and hold it. My hand moves intuitively down her back into the top of her dress.

"I want you here, anywhere," I say.

"You'll have to take me and anything I give you, but not here on the street."

Tightly arm in arm, we stagger into the hotel lobby and into the elevator. Along the way we pass cigar smoke into each other's mouth. She faces me and we continue our necking, this time my hand gets into the top of her panties around the back and inches down. I suddenly hear a long smooth fart from inches below my hand. A rich smell envelops our cage. My tongue darts deeper into her mouth.

I can't believe I farted so loud when his hand began digging into my crack. In the elevator, no less. What if someone had come in? Anyway, he kind of surprised me with his reaction; tonguing me, rather throating me with his long tongue. Oh he tasted so good. I can't believe he swallowed my turd. I've eaten my own shit, but never someone else.

End of Part 1