Brandy Ch. 11-12

Three, this doesn't apply often - but it does sometimes. I might actually enjoy it! It happens you know, I get sexy too and some guys get through to me. I might just be tempted to give a 'freebie' if I've had a good time myself - that's just a bad way to run a business.

So, what did Mario want? All he had said on the phone was that he wanted me to join him for dinner in his room. When I got down to specifics he was tongue tied at first and it took a bit of pushing to get it out of him. To cut a long story short - he wanted to watch me eat, I could order anything I liked from the menu - then, he wanted me to strip and let him eat his dinner - off my body! He assured me that there was no way he would let me get burnt, that his dishes would cool down sufficiently while I was having my meal.

Weird - but not dangerous - and I admit that I was intrigued and maybe, just a bit excited by the idea. So I agreed.

Mario got as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve. I ordered Lobster and champagne and he rattled off a series of Italian sounding dishes to room service for himself

I did my usual trick of disappearing into the bath-room when the trolley was delivered - no point in becoming too well known to the staff - and when I came out again he had everything set up.

I must say he had come prepared - he'd spread a big sheet of plastic over the bed and an ordinary sheet over that, for me to lie on. My dinner was set up beautifully, flowers, candles, the full treatment and he served me like a professional waiter, hovering around, never taking his eyes off me. 'A little more of this? Another glass of wine? Would you like your desert now?' It was odd - but very nice.

He didn't seem to be in any hurry and though I didn't know exactly what was going on in his head, I could tell he was not only enjoying the situation but also and more importantly, he was beginning to get sexually excited. The look in his eyes became very intense, his face a little flushed and a few, small drops of perspiration appeared on his forehead. Not to mention the bulge I could see growing in his pants!

I must say I got a bit turned on myself, looking across at the bed, wondering just what it would feel like to lie there covered in food, then having him eat it off of me.

When he was sure I had finished, he tidied up the dishes and then stood by the trolley that still had his meal on it - just standing there, patiently waiting for me so after a last sip of the champagne I got up, moved across to beside the bed - and began to undress.

There's an art in undressing for a man. Take your time, slow and deliberate.

I always take my blouse or top off first, taking my time to fold it neatly - giving the man plenty of time to enjoy what he can see of my breasts.

Then, usually, shoes and stockings - I never wear pantyhose - unpeeling them slowly and very carefully - so he gets to see plenty of thigh.

The skirt next. Again, taking my time to fold it - making sure I turn and move around a bit as I do that, giving him the chance to see my body from various angles.

If I have been with a man a few times I get to know what he likes - then, if I know he likes me to keep my stockings on, I do - if I know he likes to see my breasts swinging free, I take my bra off at the same time as my blouse. Those kind of things are important and a man gets excited just from the fact that you have remembered and do what he particularly likes.

But it was my first time with Mario and even though I was sure he enjoyed watching me strip I was certain that he was in fact inwardly working himself up even more at the thought of the main event that was to follow - and that whatever happened before that was only a side show.

So, when I was down to just panties - I looked across at him, asked him if he was ready for his dinner and, when he silently nodded - stripped them off too and climbed up on to the bed. I looked up at him and asked him to take over, to position me in whatever way he wanted and - so long as he was sure that the food wasn't hot, to do whatever he wanted to with that too.

Even though I could see just how wound up he had got himself he obviously liked what he saw and stood there for a few seconds, looking down at me, then, unable to wait any longer, he wheeled the trolley up alongside the bed and started.

He had me lie down on my back, me legs spread wide and hanging over the end of the bed, then before he did anything else he put a couple of pillows under my head, whether they were so that I could see what was going on or just to stop the sauces running down over my face I didn't know - but I was grateful for them later on. He took his time about everything he did and it was only when he was completely satisfied with the position I was in that he began to serve the food on to me.

He took even more care with the placement of the various dishes, it was amazing, I had expected him to just sort of pour them out on to me - but no, each was arranged as though he was actually serving it to guests for dinner.

First some shell-shaped pasta in a veal and tomato sauce were spooned on to my breasts. Their curves made it hard for him to get the pasta to stay put and a lot of the warm sauce ran straight off and trickled down their sides and as my breasts, especially the nipples are very sensitive I found that as Mario nudged the pasta together around them, they actually started to swell and harden.

He saw the reaction and looked up with a little smile, as though he was glad to see I was starting to enjoy it too.

When he'd managed to get two, small piles of pasta to cap my breasts he began to serve a sort of lasagne on to my stomach. Carefully placing a series of small portions in a circle around my navel then, when he was satisfied with their position, liberally ladled the thick sauce over them, at the same time of course, filling my navel and the surrounding, inward curve of my body too.

He actually stood back and admired his handiwork - and, apparently happy with the effect, he then started on what turned out to be his 'piece de resistance'. Spaghetti a la Pussy!

Having learned the problem caused by the combination of slippery pasta, sauce and my body's curves, he drained off as much of the spaghetti sauce as he could before he started to serve the pasta on to me. Then, using my thick, curly pubic hair as a kind of anchoring point, he began to build a pile of the spaghetti. Strands of it fell down between my thighs, tickling my pussy-lips, which by then had already started to get quite tingly and puffy and then, as he had with the other dishes, once he had sufficient spaghetti arranged just the way he wanted it, he spooned the meat sauce over it and it started to trickle warmly down between my thighs and seeped over and between my pussy-lips.

While he had been arranging the food he was totally absorbed in what he was doing - apart from the look he had given me earlier, when he saw my nipples beginning to stiffen - he hadn't said a word or even looked up at me. But, as he finished and stepped back a few paces, to see the overall effect, he smiled at me - but I could see that beneath the smile there was an expression of barely controlled excitement - his eyes were burning with a fierce intensity and I could see that his body was trembling.

Without saying a word to me, he stripped - quickly and untidily - simply tearing his clothes off and dropping them on the floor around him. He was starting to run to a bit of fat but he was in better shape than many men of his age I have seen. His cock was already fully erect - it was short but thick and was surrounded by masses of dark black hair.

Then he began to eat - both his dinner and me, it was as though the two were inextricably linked in his mind. He started with the shell pasta on my breasts, that was by then beginning to feel cold on my skin and I felt sure it couldn't have been very appetising. As it cooled it had become sticky, clinging more tightly to me keeping my nipples sensitive and erect as it contracted around them.

Mario didn't seem at all worried about the temperature of the pasta and he didn't use either a spoon or fork, just his lips and mouth. Lapping up the juice that had run down the sides of my breasts, taking mouthfuls of the pasta from the mound on top of them. And of course, mouthfuls of me too!

He gently sucked my nipples completely clean, arousing them and other parts of me as he lapped up every last drop of sauce.

Once he had finished that, he didn't, as I had half expected him to, even pause to caress or play with my breasts but moved straight on to the next course. He used a fork for the lasagne on my stomach but when he had eaten that he put it aside and used his mouth and tongue to get at the sauce.

All this time the meat sauce from the spaghetti dish had continued to slowly ooze its way down between my thighs, its irregular seeping and dripping keeping my pussy in a state of tingling sensitivity of anticipation.

But before he started to eat again he got up, stepped back from the bed and had another good, long look at me lying there and from the state his cock was in it was very obvious what the effect of his unusual tastes were having on him. It was now fully erect, its head taut, plum-red, sticky and shiny with the pre-cum that coated it - his balls very tightly swollen.

He literally licked his lips before he started in on me again. Kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed so that by stretching forward, his mouth could reach right up between my legs - then after his hands had gently pushed my thighs further apart - he began to eat.

It was marvellous!

The feel of the strands of trailing spaghetti slipping down as he sucked and chewed others from me. His tongue lapping up the sauce from my thighs, my hair and from between my pussy-lips. I can tell you, it didn't take too much of that to get my own juices really flowing, to mix with the meat sauce he was lapping up. As he did that his tongue continued to excite and stimulate my clit - and soon I felt my hips lifting, offering myself up to his busy mouth.

He was hungry for it! Whether it was the food, the way it was served, me beneath it or the total combination of all those things - he was certainly hungry for it!

Up until then he hadn't said a word or even made a sound but as he ate - the spaghetti and me - his grunts of satisfaction said more than any words could ever have done.

Then, to my surprise I felt a climax building inside me and as it did and I reacted to it by thrusting myself harder down against his chewing mouth, I felt him moving more strongly too, more jerkily. I looked down the length of myself through eyes now half glazed with pleasure and although I could only see the top of his head and shoulders - I couldn't mistake what he was doing.

He was masturbating himself!

Of course he may have been doing that all the time he had been down there, on the floor between my legs. Maybe I had been too busy enjoying my own reactions to his feasting off me to notice, only becoming aware of it as his actions had become faster, more urgent. But whatever had been going on for him - and for however long, by that time he was so worked up that it took him only another minute or so to reach his climax.

I had mine first - as I heaved myself up against his mouth and he avidly sucked the last drops of sauce from me, I went over the top, his lips sucking out the flowing juices that were mixed in with the spaghetti sauce.

As I started to come down from the brief high I could feel the even stronger vibrations of his more frenzied pumping and then heard him making a deep, rising growl. Lifting my head higher to better see what was happening, I saw his entire body lock rigidly and though I still couldn't actually see his cock I did see the spurts of cum that shot up from it and landed amongst the sauce that had dripped from my pussy on to the sheet beneath me.

We stayed like that for several minutes, silent other than for the sound of our panting breath, then I got up and looked at myself in the mirror - although I was still sticky, I was remarkably clean, obviously, I thought to myself, he had been brought up to not leave any food on his plate!

I went to the bath-room for a shower and by the time I came out again he had bundled up his sheets and from the look of the room you would have had no idea what had happened there a mere twenty minutes earlier.

We met several more times, he tried other dishes but 'spaghetti con pussy', was undoubtedly his favourite!

As he got to know me he talked a bit about himself. He was Italian, from a very poor village in the South, where towards the end of the last war and for some time after that, there was hardly any food to be had anywhere around them. His Mother died while giving birth to twins, a boy and a girl and a few weeks later the babies died too - in fact his whole family came very close to starving. At that time he was just reaching early puberty, becoming obsessed with girls and sex - but of course in that part of the world sex without marriage was a sin. He and his older brothers finally emigrated so that they could send money back for the rest of the family and in time Mario sent home for one of the village girls to come out and marry him.

My guess was that because of his childhood experiences, sex and food somehow got linked together. But, how could a good Catholic ask his unsullied wife to do for him what he needed to satisfy those strange, deep-seated obsessions.

IF YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY CHECK OUT ALL MY OTHER SUBMISSIONS - AND IF YOU WANT CONTRIBUTORS TO CONTINUE POSTING TO THIS SITE PLEASE DOYOUR BIT ANDVOTE!!!