Christmas in Boulder Ch. 02

"I said cork-screw," I repeated to him.

He thought for a minute and said, "Oh, oh, yes. . . . " Looking around, he said, "Well, peel these potatoes and put them in a bowl of water. The potato peeler is in that drawer and you can find a bowl over there. It's too early to slice them, but if you put them under water they will be okay. And since you insist on screwing, get a cork screw out of that drawer over there and open a bottle of wine for us."

With that we went to work.

As the afternoon wore on, I screwed (or more precisely, unscrewed), peeled, sliced, and chopped—all under the careful tutelage of Chef Misha. I also poured wine, as needed, to lubricate the entire process. He worried over the sauce like a mother hen with a brood of chicks. Just so much wine, just so much heat as it reduced, on and on. The whole experience was like being an associate in a big law firm again, but more interesting. Strictly look but don't touch.

Oh, and I also shoveled off the deck and cleaned off the Weber, so we would have a place to cook the tenderloin.

About four-thirty, the girls returned. That changed everything. Fortunately, most of the prep work was done. All we had to do was actually cook the dinner, which was good, because our chef became very distracted by the girls, not that I blamed him.

When they first came in, they were seriously bundled up—very stylishly, but bundled up and snow covered (it was still snowing hard outside) and they seemed to be burdened by a multitude of bags and packages.

As they stood there and begin to peel off their snow-covered outer garments, I said, "Oh my, it looks like you ladies did some serious damage today," thinking of our VISA bill.

"Oh yeah," Gina said. "You are going to be impressed. This is as much fun as shopping in New York or Palo Alto."

"Did you spend more than I earned in New York this week?"

"What were you billing at?"

$875 an hour."

"Hmmm. Maybe."

I heard a low whistle from Misha. "You charge $875 an hour? He asked. "Glad I don't have to pay that for a sous chef."

"What the traffic will bear my good man. I was defending an investment banker charged with insider trading."

By this time the girls had shed their outer garments and I could see that each was wearing a whole new outfit. Both had on tights that literally molded to their legs, which was nice I thought, given the really fine legs each of them had, and some kind of sweater dress or tunic that just barely came below their bottoms, which was also nice. Different dress and different tights on each girl, but same effect. How can you look almost naked with opaque clothing on? It can be done if it is tight enough.

Lisa said, "Ooh, its nice and warm in here."

"Just as you like it, my dear," responded her husband, as she quickly pulled her top over her head. She wasn't naked beneath it, but the form fitting thinly knit top she had on, combined with the absence of a bra, got the same net effect. She had our undivided attention. I don't know whether it was the attention she was getting from Misha and me or just because she had been out in the cold, but her nipples were rock hard and looked like they were in danger of poking holes in her top, what there was of it. The other nice thing about losing the sweater dress was that we could now see how the tights fit her ass, which was as though they had been painted on. There was very little left to the imagination.

Being a good actress, she was fully aware of the effect she was having on Misha and me, so she did a slow pirouette before us, just to make sure we weren't missing anything.

I looked over at Gina, hoping I wasn't going to be in trouble for having been mesmerized by her shopping partner. She was smiling broadly, and when I smiled back, she pulled her dress over her head revealing a similar thinly knit top, and did the same pirouette as Lisa. I wanted to grab her and carry her off the bedroom right then. When she finished the pirouette, she put her hands beneath her ample breasts and lifted them and then let them fall back into place, as though to make sure that I noticed the absence of a bra. Silly girl!

"Leif, Leif!" I heard from Misha, trying to pull my attention away from Gina. "Pour the girls some wine. All three of you go over there by the fireplace while I finish getting dinner ready. I can't cook while those two are around. Your duty as sous chef is to keep them away from me."

But the girls weren't done yet. "Not so fast, Misha," said Lisa. You have to see what we have for you two. We found these in that cooking store down on Pearl Street—you know the one."

Gina came trotting over with one of their many bags and pulled out two green aprons. Each girl held one up.

Printed on the front of each apron was:,

Cook Nude It Adds Spice to Dinner.

Lisa was jumping up and down, telling us to put them on immediately.

Once I stopped laughing, I grabbed one and wrapped it around myself, leaving my jeans and t-shirt on beneath.

"Oh, no!" Gina said. We want to see you guys as naked as we almost are," admitting just how revealing her outfit was. "Peel off those Levis and that ratty old Stanford t-shirt, Bub."

I could see immediately that there was no way out of this one, but I gave it a try. I held out the bottle of wine and the three glasses I was holding and asked Gina, "Which do you want first, your wine or my Levis?"

Lisa broke up laughing and Gina gave me this look that said, "Why are you making this complicated? Only a lawyer would ask that question."

Once Lisa quit laughing, she said, "Okay wine first, but no stalling after that, as Gina and I have a bet about which of you has the cutest tush."

So I poured the wine, stripped off my clothes and put on the apron. Misha did the same thing and we stood facing them, not showing much of anything. "Best Christmas I've ever had," I was thinking.

All right you two, turn around and lean on the counter," Lisa said. Gina and I have a bet we have to settle. We stood there, leaning on the counter while the girls inspected our asses and sniggered behind us. There was a great deal of sniggering, giggling and whispering, and finally, Lisa said, "Okay, we give up, it's a tie. You both have a really cute ass."

We turned back so we were facing the girls, and Misha looked at me and said, "Take them over by the fireplace and keep their wine glasses full, so I can finish dinner." So I did just that, putting an arm around each nearly nude, fully dressed girl and walking the two of them across the room.

We sat by the fire and chatted as we sipped our wine and listened to Misha puttering in the kitchen behind us. Gina was making a point of sitting with her legs spread so I could see how her tights failed to conceal, or at least graphically outlined, her sex. I was glad I didn't have the Levis on, because they would have become uncomfortable by now, but I wasn't sure how I was going to stand up with the growing erection I was developing under my apron. Gina knew exactly what she was doing to me, and she was loving it.

Then there was a crisis. Misha yelled, "Hey, sous chef, go out on the balcony and light the Weber." I sure as hell wasn't going out there in that snowstorm wearing just an apron. Vital parts freeze quickly.

Well, sometimes there is no graceful way out of a problem, so I just stood up with a tent under my apron, and, following the lead of the girls' earlier performance, I stood there long enough so that neither had any doubt that she was seeing a very large erect prick under the apron. I smiled and turned and walked back to where I had left my Levis and t-shirt. I shed the apron with my back to Misha, but facing the girls so that they could see exactly what was causing the mound under the apron on the extremely remote possibility that they hadn't already figured it out. I even took time to put the T-shirt on first, before I pulled on my Levis and stuffed my overheated cock inside them. I felt like a Chippendales dancer. Lisa, looked at me and smiled, but Gina pushed her tits up again, as she had earlier. That made my now fully erect prick twitch, which finally made Gina look away in embarrassment.

Having triumphed over Gina, I went out and fired up the Weber. Damn it was cold, even with a pair of pants on. Some shoes would have been a good idea. As I walked over to where I had left my wine, there was still a bulge under my Levis and it was uncomfortable enough, that I was kind of longing for the apron again.

Gina gave me a look that said, "I'm not done with you buster," and then said to Lisa, "Come on Lisa, we have to dress for dinner."

"I hope you don't expect us to dress for dinner," I said. "I didn't bring a tux."

Lisa said, "Not to worry, Leif. You're a bit overdressed as you are, but I am sure you'll do fine before the evening is done, won't he Gina?"

"He always does," said Gina, as the two of them picked up their various bags and boxes and headed up the stairs. I just stood and watched two beautiful barely-covered asses wiggle their way up the stairs."

Misha and I puttered around the kitchen for half an hour until the girls reappeared. They came down separately. Either neither wanted the other to dilute her entrance, or they worried about causing a coronary if they both came down at once. I wasn't clear on their motivation.

Lisa, came down first, wearing a gauzy dress that draped to the floor but concealed nothing from her waist, where it started, on down. It was hard to tear my eyes away from her thinly veiled naked pussy. Her top was a wide knit fishnet. The weave was big enough so her nipples easily protruded from the mesh. Okay, that helped me stop staring at her pussy. It was a good thing neither Misha nor I was holding a knife, because we might have dropped it and caused an injury.

"Gina will be down in a minute," she said. "Misha, can we have some Champagne, and do you have any of that special triple creme cheese? After all it is Christmas."

"Oh yes," he said, in the most lecherous tone I have ever heard. He turned and grabbed a plate from behind him with the cheese and told me to get the Champagne out of the refrigerator. "Will Gina be down soon?" he asked. "I need to put the tenderloin on the grill."

"Right here," I heard her say from the stairs. We all three looked up and saw an erotic vision, or at least I did. She was wearing a long simple, silvery, floor-length sheath that clung to her like it had been painted on. Not to be outdone by Lisa, this dress was virtually transparent also. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she came down the stairs and across the room.

Misha pulled his pants on and went on out to the grill to start the tenderloin, although he damn near missed the door as he was still looking over his shoulder at Gina.

As Gina walked up to the counter, she asked, "Lisa, is this the special soft cheese you were telling me about at lunch?" What a set up that question was.

Lisa stuck her finger in the cheese and then slowly inserted it in her mouth as she savored the flavor of the cheese and sucked on her finger like it was a cock. "Umm, yes. Here, try it," she said as she held her finger, still covered with a fair bit of cheese out to Gina.

Gina pulled the finger into her mouth and moaned for effect as she sucked on it just like it was my cock.

Just then Misha came in the door, swearing about the cold, and stopped speechless as he watched my wife sucking on Lisa's finger and moaning.

"Look darling," Lisa said. "We found the cheese. But this really isn't the right way to eat it, is it?"

"Uhh . . .no," Misha said.

"Have some Champagne, Lisa," he said, "while I finish up dinner." The poor guy sounded like he was about to explode. I was pouring the Champagne.

"Can't you let the sous chef spread the cheese?" Lisa asked, with a wink at Gina. Gina, was wearing a truly perverted smile, obviously having been briefed in advance by Lisa about the cheese ritual.

"You can watch Misha," she said, as she looked at him over the top of her Champagne glass. "I know how much you like to watch."

"Okay, okay," he said. "Leif, she wants you to . . ."

"Leif knows what I want," she said interrupting him. While she was talking, she had reached around behind me and was fondling my ass through my Levis.

Gina used her four-inch heels and a stretch to get to where she could whisper in my ear, "Smear some cheese on her nipples, and then we all get to suck it off."

Lisa quickly pulled her top off over her head and held her tits out to me. It was all I could do not to bend over and began sucking on them immediately, but I refrained, fearing that Misha might have a knife in hand.

I looked at Misha as Lisa, said "Please, Misha, you know how I like this." He nodded and I noticed that he didn't have a knife in his hand, so I grabbed Lisa's boob with one hand and used the other hand to pick up a gob of the soft creamy cheese that I smeared on and around her nipple. By this time, not only was Lisa fondling my ass, but Gina was rubbing my cock through my Levis.

"Now what?" I asked, playing dumb, but trying to move things along so the tenderloin didn't burn.

"I think Gina should suck it off, since she loaned us Leif to smear it on," said Lisa.

Misha was now just leaning back against the counter with an obvious hard on beneath his Levis. His frown had been replaced by a lascivious smile, so I knew this was all a part of a game they had played before.

Gina looked at me, and I gave her a smile that said, "Go for it," and she did, leaning in and taking Lisa's nipple in her mouth. She could have sucked it clean much more quickly, but she took her time, I was sure caressing the nipple with her tongue. Being a gentleman, I held Lisa's boob up so it was properly positioned for Gina.

I sucked the cheese remaining on my fingers off the hand not engaged with Lisa's boob. Damn, it was good. No one was paying any attention to me. I just wanted to taste the cheese, without disturbing Lisa's little drama.

After about thirty seconds of sucking cheese off Lisa's boob, Gina pulled back and licked her lips, saying, "Oh my, yes, that is good cheese."

Then she stood on her toes and kissed me long and hard. She stuck her tongue way into my mouth. Since she had both arms around my neck, I had to presume it was Lisa who was now stroking my cock through my Levis.

After the kiss, I paused for a second, and said, "Yep, that is good cheese."

At that both girls broke out laughing and let go of me. Misha joined in the laugh and then grabbed a big fork and headed out to turn the tenderloin. I wasn't so sure about this game when he had sharp kitchen implements in his hands.

When he came back in, we were all seated respectably on three stools, eating the cheese and the champagne in a civilized fashion (if you overlook the detail that both girls were taking turns massaging my dick through my Levis). I thought about replacing the Levis with my apron, but I had two reasons not to do that. First, Misha would get even by sending me out on the porch to check the meat, even if it didn't need checking. Second, I was afraid the girls would make me cum, like Gina had the night before.

I said to the girls, "Okay ladies, no more fooling around until Misha gets dinner on the table. We don't want something to burn."

"Okay," they moaned in unison, as they continued to take turns massaging my dick.

A few minutes later, Misha stepped out and returned with the tenderloin. It looked luscious as he put it under a foil tent to hold while he got the remaining items ready to serve. He tasted the sauce a final time and pronounced it satisfactory.

Then Lisa spoke up, "Misha, can you hold dinner for fifteen minutes?

"Sure, but why?"

"Well, you really didn't get to enjoy the cream cheese hors d'oeuvre, and I think we will enjoy your dinner a great deal more if we all have a quickie before dinner."

"Really?" he asked. "You want me to hold dinner so you can fuck me?"

By this time, she was standing in front of him stroking his cock through his trousers as he held a chef's knife in the air above her.

"Yes, really," she said. "You know how much I love your cooking, and you know how much I love your cock," she said as she continued to stroke him. "The problem is that I can't focus on both at once and do either justice, and right now, I really want to focus on your cock."

Gina was doing something similar to me under the counter as we watched the little family drama play out. Misha was doomed on this one.

"All right!" he said, as he stabbed the knife down into the butcher block. It stood straight up vibrating, its tip imbedded in the wood. "But only fifteen minutes or everything will be ruined!" With that they fled up the stairs, leaving the knife standing in the butcher block quivering like an excited prick.

Gina and I looked at each other in amazement and then she said softly, but intently, in Swedish, "I want you to fuck me right now!"

"Upstairs?" I asked.

"No right here, right now."

"Umm. . ." I said in appreciation and agreement as she turned and let me release the catch and zipper holding her dress up. She let it fall to her feet, still facing away from me. "God she has a beautiful ass," I thought, as I pulled my t-shirt over my head and then released my jeans and let them fall to my feet. We both stepped clear of our fallen clothes, and she turned to me and put my hands on her breasts while she grabbed my prick.

"I've been waiting all day for this," she said. Then she turned and walked to the dinner table, where she leaned over with her beautiful naked ass pointed at me and her legs spread. "Now fuck me, right here and right now," she continued in Swedish.

I stepped in behind her and began to rub my prick along her sex. She was wet and slippery. "Quit teasing! Just fuck me!" again in Swedish, but louder. She didn't care who could hear us. We always fucked in Swedish or Italian. Never in English.

I slid my cock into her, just the head.

"Oh fuck, you're hot and wet," I said in Italian.

She responded by pushing back with her hips so that my cock slowly slipped in until I could feel it pressing against the end of her cunt. I grabbed her hips and began to pump, slowly at first, but with an increasing rhythm.

"Oh, fuck, that feels good," she said between whimpers. "I've been wanting this all afternoon."

I was silent for a while as I just stood fucking her while she whimpered. We went on for a minute or two that way.

Finally, I began to talk dirty to her. I knew it would make her cum. It always does. "You nasty little slut. I could tell you were horny when you came back from shopping," I said in Italian. The first thing we had done when we became a couple was to learn how to talk dirty in Swedish and Italian.

"God, your cock is hard," she said in Swedish.

"That's just how you like it isn't it, you horny little slut? I know how much you like my big hard cock. You like it rammed up your cunt, don't you?" in Italian. I had a good hold of both of her hips and was picking up the pace, so my thighs were slapping against her ass and my balls against her clit.

"Oh fuck!" she said. "Yes, I am your horny little slut, and I have been wanting that cock of yours all afternoon. Oh, oh, oh, God, that feels so fucking good."

"Are you ready to cum yet?"

"Uhhh . . . yes. Yes. Yes. . . . Right now." She screamed something that wasn't a word in any language but was totally intelligible to anyone past puberty, and I felt her cunt muscles clamp down on my cock. That set me off and I pushed in with one hard flex of my hips and then just held myself in place, as far into her cunt as I could get, while I felt at least three or four streams of cum course up the shaft of my dick and then squirt into her.

It was a very quick fuck, but the last two hours had essentially been foreplay.