tagRomanceMashed Potatoes and Garlic Bread

Mashed Potatoes and Garlic Bread


Ellen stood at the butcher's block–that also served as an island–peeling and quartering potatoes for dinner. She nervously glanced at the clock. 4:15. Her husband would be home in an hour. The thought made her smile and feel giddy. Nearly ten years of marriage and she still trembled at the mere thought of him.

After the potatoes were quartered and washed, she added them to the pan of boiling water, generously sprinkled in a few seasonings, and checked on the roast. When she cut into the chunk of meat, Ellen was pleased to see that it was slightly more pink than it should be. Smiling with satisfaction, she ladled some of the juices over the top, turned the slow cooker to the Keep Warm setting knowing that it would cook more by the time her husband returned home, then turned the oven on for the garlic bread. They both loved garlic bread, especially with pasta or roast. And the fact that it was garlic, never stopped her husband from kissing her.

At five o'clock, Ellen took the potatoes from the heat and drained the water out. She then dumped the pot of potatoes into a large bowl, added a small amount of milk and lots of butter, then took out her hand masher and got to work. As she began mashing potatoes, she noticed that only five minutes had passed. Forcing herself to slow down, Ellen slowly cleared the kitchen of every dirty dish, pot, or pan that wasn't currently in use, and put them all in the dishwasher, then wiped down the butcher's block.

Checking the time again, she then pulled the garlic bread from the oven, shut it off, and placed the bread slices into her bread basket. The smell of garlic immediately filled the house, and Ellen's stomach growled it's approval.

When she heard her husband's truck pull into the driveway, Ellen threw the dish rag into the sink and ran to the butcher's block, making sure her back was to the entrance into the kitchen. She picked up the potato masher and resumed her former task.

The front door opened.

"Mmm, something smells good, Baby," she heard from the living room. She heard the familiar sounds of Rich emptying his pockets, taking off his work boots, and shedding his coat. The floor boards creaked slightly beneath his feet, and Ellen held her breath and mashed the potatoes as quietly as she could.

When he got to the kitchen, she heard his sharp intake of breath. She knew he'd like her surprise. She had on only an apron, frilly around the edges, a non-adjustable strap around the neck, and a big bow in the back, resting just above the curve of her rear. The ribbons hung down each cheek, stopping just where her legs met her buttocks.

Even after they'd married (she'd been 24, he, 27), Ellen had had a difficult time showing her body to Rich. She wasn't a "perfect" size six, and her stomach wasn't flat, but every single day Rich had told her how much he loved her and her body.

She knew for sure that he wasn't lying the night she'd emerged from the shower and walked into their bedroom–completely naked. Her dry hair was pulled up haphazardly, and her body had been completely dried, so there were no droplets of water to catch any lighting, causing a surreal effect. Yet, she watched the sheet rise once he caught a glimpse of her. That's when she'd been certain that she could turn him on, and since that night many years ago, Ellen had grown more comfortable being naked in his presence.

When she felt the heat from his body as he neared, Ellen finally released her breath. Within seconds, his warm, calloused hands slid inside the apron, coming around her front. One hand stayed on her stomach, the other slid down to her abdomen, pulling her back against his erection. She loved the feel of him hard on her rear. It turned her on to no end.

She continued mashing the now-overly-mashed potatoes, until she felt his lips on the crook of her neck. Then it was her turn to quickly inhale. He kissed that spot–the one where her neck met her shoulder–languidly, lavishing it with his tongue, gently with his teeth, and repeatedly with his lips.

Oh, how he turned her on! She could feel the moisture pooling between her thighs already.

He knew just where to touch, where to nibble, what to do. Then again, she thought, he could touch her anywhere, kiss her anywhere, and still have the same effect.

With her husband's hands holding her tightly, Ellen gave in to the weakness in her knees. She slumped back against his chest even more, driving his hardness closer to her naked rear. When Rich's lips moved to the back of her neck, Ellen let out a cry and felt gooseflesh racing up and down her arms, across her chest, and painfully hardening her nipples.

Taking note of his wife's reaction, Rich slid one hand upward til he was cupping Ellen's breast. He loved the fact that after nearly ten years, he still had this effect on her, and hoped, by God, that it'd last for ten times ten. While her nipple pierced his palm, he simply massaged her breast, his lips never leaving her neck. It drove her crazy, he knew, especially pinned between him–and his hard on–and the block.

The next moan elicited from her came when his lips traveled down between her shoulder blades. He smiled as her head went forward, held her out in front of him, bent over, and slowly licked the entire length of her spine, from the top curve of her beautifully aged ass, to the nape of her neck. His nose nuzzled her hair as he once again pulled her back against him, holding her tightly.

When Ellen's strength returned back to her legs, she turned around and slid her hands up around her husband's neck, at the same time that his slid around her waist. One hand rested on the small of her back, the other slid lower to cup a cheek. She stood on her tiptoes and was once again pulled tightly up and to him.

Her head slanted back and his mouth captured hers in a rapturous kiss. When her knees went weak, Rich pulled his wife up his body, lifting her from the ground. He held on tightly, though more out of love and need, than fear of dropping her.

His tongue pressed against her lips until she let it in. Their tongues slid together frantically, passionately, wantonly. His hand alternately squeezed her rear as they kissed, each time eliciting a small moan from her. He loved that she got turned on when her ass was played with. He could spend hours kissing, nibbling, licking the half globes. And if his hands spread them apart and cool air was blown onto her hole, or his tongue happened to dip inside, he was greatly rewarded with a tremble and loud cry. And if her legs happen to be spread wider than normal, her smell wafted up to his nose and drove him crazy.

The thoughts of his wife had him excruciatingly hard, and he knew she knew it. Her hand slid down his chest and cupped him through his jeans, gently squeezing as they kissed. He growled deeply, picking her up further and setting her on the butcher's block. Then he parted from the kiss. Her lips were red and swollen, and his heart thudded with the male pride.

A small whimper of protest escaped Ellen's lips as Rich pulled away so quickly. When she saw the familiar lust in his eyes, she knew he wanted her thirty different ways. The thought alone brought a flutter to her stomach. Yet when he stood there, breathing heavily and not doing anything, Ellen began to wonder if something were wrong.

"Rich..?" she asked, her voice thick with desire. She gently cupped the side of his face, loving the way his stubble tickled her palm. His eyes, green as ever, penetrated hers. She knew that look well.

Her hand slid from his face, went around her back, and carefully untied the apron. He knew it had been her grandmother's, and by stepping back, he was forcing himself not to literally rip it off her. She always giggled when she recalled the clothes that HAD gone through that fate.

With the apron set beside her, Ellen slid her hands up her husband's bare arms, over his T-shirt, and up to his neck.

"Come here," Rich growled again, pulling her tightly to him. Ellen started to shriek, but was cut off when her husband's lips found hers again. This time, though, the kiss was tender. She loved the way his lips grew soft and fuller when he was kissing her this way. And though she loved the wanton kisses they shared, these were by far her favorite, because the tenderness turned her on to the fullest degree.

As they kissed slowly, languidly, Rich gathered his wife into his arms with just the slightest effort, and carried her to their bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and hovered over her naked body. Now he took it all in. From the crown of her head to her nude toenails, he drank in every inch of her. Then he decided to taste it all.

He leaned over and began kissing her face. He knew she liked this as well, as his lips traveled over her forehead, over her eyebrows, each eyelid, to her cheeks. He bypassed her mouth and kissed down her chin, then smiled when she moaned in protest.

His kisses continued in a straight line down her throat, then he veered right, to kiss the left side of her collarbone. Her hands found their way to his head and wound tightly in his hair. He loved when she did that. Loved when she pulled his head to her body, wanting more.

She moaned his name. He kept nibbling, until he realized she was pushing him away. He sat up and looked down at her, his eyebrows pinched together in worry. She reached up and smoothed them out, breathing heavily, already beginning to blush in her cheeks and chest.

"Rich... the crock... pot. It needs... to be... turned off..." Cursing out loud, Rich got off the bed and raced to the kitchen. He looked blindly for the slow cooker, found it, but couldn't get his hand to move on the knob. Finally, and saying to hell with it, he unplugged the damn thing from the wall and raced back to his waiting wife.

When he got back into the bedroom, Ellen laughed. It was throaty, and it made his blood boil with desire. Shedding his shirt, he climbed back onto the bed and immediately took her left nipple in his mouth. She gasped and arced her back and his arm slid behind her. The sound was music to his ears, and his tongue lapped at the underside of the hardened bud. Writhing beneath him, Ellen emitted moans and gasps of pleasure. Rich knew she could come from this alone. He loved how sensitive her nipples were.

He moved to her right nipple, rubbing his stubbled face over it. This had the same effect. Ellen writhed beneath him, begging him for more. He gave it to her. His mouth ravaged the nipple, then he sucked her size C breast as far into his mouth as he could. Her cries of pleasure filled the room.

As he sucked on her breast, Rich's tongue lapped at Ellen's nipple. Her hands came blindly to her breast and she forced her eyes open, to help guide her into his mouth. When Ellen was satisfied, she surrendered to the feelings consuming her, and closed her eyes again. Her body writhed and moved, and when his free hand found her other nipple, Ellen's cries became louder.

Rich knew his wife was wet. He hungered to taste her, feel the moisture in his fingers, smell her. But first...

He sucked on her breast as he pulled his head back, emitting a soft pop as the nipple fell from his lips. He slid his hand from around her back and pushed her breasts together. Then he buried his face in them, forcing his tongue past each globe, and licking her cleavage. Her hands fisted in his hair again, and he took it as his cue to rub his stubble over the soft skin. Her back arched again as she pulled him closer. He heard a grunt escape his throat as he happily obliged.

When Rich started to move lower, Ellen stopped breathing. She knew she was wet. She felt her husband leave the bed, and her eyes snapped open. When she saw him undressing, her eyes first met his, then slid down his body, stopping on his erection once it was exposed. His member stood proudly. Ellen licked her lips.

Rich wasn't a romance novel type of guy. His shoulders weren't broad, but they were strong. His member wasn't huge, but it fit Ellen perfectly. She could almost fit her hand around its girth, and nearly two fists on top of each other, covered it. He wasn't muscular or big, but his abs were slightly defined and though he didn't stretch a large shirt with big muscles, he wore one comfortably.

His head was purple. She felt a tremble in her womb. She loved when he was that turned on.

When he climbed back onto the bed, Rich parted her thighs. He then moved up her body, letting his cock rest on her stomach. His lips found hers again, and she enveloped his body with her thighs and arms. Slowly his mouth claimed hers, his tongue delving in to her warm mouth, sliding along her eager tongue. When her hips ground up into his, Rich took the cue and moved lower again.

He kissed the insides of Ellen's thighs, always coming so close to the center of the V, but never touching it. Though her thighs touched some even when her knees were spread, Rich had no problem parting them with his hands. And when her soft begs turned into loud pleas, Rich parted her labia with his nose, then let his tongue drag slowly from her seeping hole to her throbbing clit.

Ellen screamed with pleasure. Her body trembled and her hands flew to Rich's head, holding him firmly at her clit. Her hands tightened on his head, and he sucked her clit into her mouth. Nothing felt so wonderful to her, and she voiced this. She heard her husband grunt, then felt two of his fingers slide into her. When they did, she came.

As she climaxed around his fingers, Rich kept slowly sliding them in and out of Ellen. He loved the way her muscles gripped, pulled, and felt. He curved his fingers upward and quickly found the soft, spongy button. He tapped it. Ellen screamed with delight.

Rich finally let his wife come down from her orgasm, kissing his way back up her body, then back down. She whimpered.

"I never got a full taste of you," she heard him say. Then she felt his tongue prodding her, sliding in, and thrusting. His nose was pressed to her clit, and his tongue lapped at her walls.

"Riiiiich, ohhh baby, I'm gonna come again..."

Rich came up fast and slid into her. Her vaginal walls grabbed his member, pulled him in. Ellen came a second time, as soon as he was buried in her. He nearly followed as her muscles clenched and released him. Rich had to grit his teeth to keep from going over the edge of ecstacy.

He looked down at his wife. Her face was contorted by pleasure. He loved that look. It gave him a primal feeling.

He slowly stroked. Raising up until just the head was buried, he lowered himself again. Ellen's legs were lazily on the bed. He'd stroke until she was ready. Sometimes it only took her a minute to recover, other times, quite a few.

When Ellen's thighs enclosed Rich's waist, lust took over. He picked up his pace quickly, building a steady rhythm. When he heard her soft moans turn gravelly, he straightened up a bit, planted one hand behind each of her knees, and pushed her legs toward her head.

Her calves rested on the top of his hand as he started thrusting into her again. Her legs were spread wide and he looked down to see his cock disappearing into her. The animal instincts took over and he went into a blind fury. His hips pistoned, forcing his cock in and out of her. He took her as his own, pushing her legs further upward until he was ready to explode.

"El... I'm... gonna... oh, God!" With a loud cry, Rich thrust forward and held himself still as his cock fired load after load of his seed into his wife.

"Don't, stop," she cried out. He knew she was close, so as he erupted, his hand found her clit and rubbed it lightly.

It had the desired effect.

Ellen felt herself nearly sitting up with this orgasm. She gladly surrendered herself to her husband, her body so gloriously spent and sore. She felt his cock shooting his load into her, and trembled again. She loved making love with her husband. Loved how giving he was, and how he wouldn't let her please him until she herself had been pleased first.

As she slid down from the high she was on, she felt her husband collapse on top of her. They were both covered in sweat, and lay gasping for air. With all the energy she could muster, she stroked his hair.

They lay in silence for a full ten minutes, listening to each other breathing, taking in the scent of sex.

"So," she whispered finally, "how was work?"

Rich's laughter was music to her heart as he lifted his head and kissed her softly.

"What work?" he replied. Ellen smiled.

"If you're hungry, supper's ready."

"Mm, sounds good." Ellen laughed.

"Well, we can't go anywhere until you get off me," she answered, kissing his sweaty brow. Rich groaned.

"I'll get up, if you promise to wear to dinner what you're wearing now."

"I can't eat naked!"

"Why not? I want a constant reminder of what's for dessert."

Rich laughed at his wife's blush, then kissed her tenderly again before helping her out of bed and watching, with love, as his wife's shaky legs carried her to the kitchen.


I hope you have enjoyed this story. Please feel free to leave me any comments and/or constructive criticism.

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