Not What I Ordered

(I was doing some renovations on a swank condo for this up and coming supermodel. She was very oversexed and her name was Suzie. During a lunch break I pulled out some pancakes I had bought earlier at a breakfast diner. I offered Suzie some and she readily agreed, saying it was her favorite food, even a fetish of hers. I then told her she was the sexiest and most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She thanked me for the compliment. Then she said that if I was going to share my pancakes with her, then she was going to share a fetish story about pancakes with me. She smiled and told me her story. It was a really sexy tale. She also asked me to share it with everyone I could. So here then, is her story word for word. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did)

I wanted blueberry pancakes. Now you would have thought, with the amazing bubble-butt I have, not to mention my oversized world class boobs, that Kevin would have crawled over broken glass to get me my desired food.

"Forget pancakes. It's dinner time, Suzie," he says to me, his eyes drooling over my curvy body like poured beer foaming over a cup's edge.

I stared at him incredulously. Does he not want my passionate, ultra glossy and ultra thick lips to kiss his swollen cock any time soon? Or doesn't he know that what Suzie wants, Suzie invariably gets?

Then he says, "I know a quiet little place not too far from here that serves great lobster."

My extremely sexy face starts to redden. Since when does a guy try to impress his date by telling her what she can and cannot eat?

Kevin smiles at me with his sexy stubble and square, stunning jaw. I glance at his impressive shoulders and V-shape musculature. A definite hunk if ever there was one.

I want to tell him to stick his lobster up his ass, but his delicious woodsy aftershave is taunting my resistance. And the devilishly wicked abs under his tight fitting silk t-shirt are making me drool. Still, if you've seen one truly amazing and gorgeous hunk you've probably seen them all.

And yet, his radiant blue eyes, and wickedly sweet dimples are simply to die for.

And yet...and yet...I have my pride.

"I'm not hungry anymore," I blurt out, my once glowing angel face now hardening into an icy glare.

I fling my arm in the air and a passing taxi screeches to a halt.

It takes Kevin a moment to catch on, but when he does, his ultra handsome face looks as though it was hit with a brick.

"What are you doing?" he asks, both mesmerized and traumatized as I strut my stuff towards the taxi.

I open the door and get ready to toss my amazing bubble butt onto the black leather seat.

Then I shout at Kevin. "Next time a girl asks for pancakes, you make sure you get 'em stacked at least a foot high, with loads of genuine maple syrup and tons of fresh butter."

I hop in and slam the door shut, then watch as he is left stranded in the middle of the street, all the colour draining from his handsome face.

"Drive," I holler at the driver, and off he goes.

I start to get so angry, I almost hyper-ventilate. I had been munching on carrot sticks and celery stalks for days, just so I could clear enough space for tonight's glorious calorie binge. But 'lobster man' had other ideas.

I light a joint, and the taxi guy looks all perplexed. But he decides not to say anything. His eyes are riveted in the mirror, and the mirror is pointed at my generous cleavage.

"You have nice eyes," he says, softening my gaze, and causing an unprovoked smile from my thick sexy lips.

"Most guys only focus on my boobs," I whisper, sucking hard on the fumes as my head started to spin. I had spent the better part of a week abstaining from yummy foods and even yummier sex, only so I might splurge on both in the same night. Sometimes that was the only thing that kept dieting possible. Was linking it to some super hot, mag cover hunk.

"You still haven't told me where you live?" he said. "I'm guessing that guy pissed you off."

"I wanted pancakes...he wanted lobster."

"Pancakes are amazing if you make them right," he said, his eyes still riveted to the mirror. Obviously I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Blueberry pancakes to be precise," I said, putting out the joint in the ashtray. The weed was really powerful, probably soaked in acid, and I didn't want to overdo it. Two long tokes were enough.

"You shouldn't smoke that shit," he cautioned, sounding genuinely concerned.

I didn't respond. I'd had enough of guys telling me what was good or not good for me lately.

"The smoke makes your pretty eyes red," he continued.

"Again with my eyes. Why don't you watch my fucking boobs instead, like normal guys, or else put them on the road in front of you where they belong."

My unexpectedly angry tone stung him, and made him a little gun shy. Then I realized I still hadn't told him where to take me. As far as he knew, he might not have even been driving in the right direction. But I didn't care. I was so fucking angry at Kevin for spoiling my evening that I decided not to say another word.

I took a business card out of my purse with my studio loft address on it and reached over the seat.

"Take me here," I told him, my voice still rank with irritation.

He gently snatched the card, glanced at it, then murmured "thanks." I could tell he was relieved he had been driving in the right direction after all. I could be a real bitch when I wanted to be, but a real sweetheart if the guy treated me with respect.

I noted that we were about ten minutes away, and suddenly I heard some honking behind me.

"It's your boyfriend," the driver said softly, knowing it might only upset me further. It did.

"I thought I told that mother fucker to fuck off," I fumed.

"Maybe he doesn't speak English," the driver mused, passing a wry smile onto his kind of cute face.

"You're good at pulling one liners out of your ass, aren't you?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

"I can lose him if you want me to," he suddenly offered, blowing my mind.

"Really!"

"Yeah, really. I can drive passed your address, to make him believe we're going someplace else, then give him the slip and double back."

His offer was sweet music to my ears. I knew in my heart of hearts, that if given the chance once more, Kevin would gladly take me to some pancake heaven, then bring me back home for some heart stopping, pulse pounding, mind blowing sex. But...but...

But...as far as I was concerned, he had blown his chance. Time to give some other dude a try, maybe next week, or perhaps the week after. But I wasn't really trying to start a new relationship with any guy right now. And my philosophy was fairly simple. Good lovemaking was where you found it, how you found it, and when you found it. And if the mood wasn't right, it just wasn't right.

"We're passing your place now," he said, his eyes finally off my face and onto the roads ahead. He was really focused. After all, Kevin was in his Lamborghini, and could go zero to a hundred in mere seconds.

The honking stopped, a sure sign that passing my place had totally thrown off Kevin. He now had no idea where I was going.

The driver kept on going for another five minutes, with Kevin still close on his tail.

Suddenly, and without warning, the driver swerves into a turning lane and makes a left that leaves poor Kevin still going straight. He can't stop with oncoming traffic, and has to keep on going with the flow. He has no idea that the driver is turning onto a new street, headed back to my place.

"Some truly amazing driving," I tell him, honestly impressed.

He drives for about five minutes, but says nothing, then, just a minute or two from my place, unexpectedly pulls up to an all night Korean food mart, stops, and puts the car into park.

Then he hops out and tells me he'll be back in just a minute.

"Can't you do your shopping on your own time?" I blurt out, trying not to sound pissed. But I was very pissed. Just what the fuck was he doing, buying shit at the food mart? He had built up a lot of good will with me by ditching Kevin, only now he was wasting it by being an asshole.

A few minutes later and he comes out carrying a bag.

He hops back behind the wheel and tosses the bag onto the passenger seat. Then he starts the car again.

"Totally not fucking cool," I whine at him.

He spins around then stares directly into my face. "Just wanna make you some really yummy home made pancakes from scratch," he announces, as if I am going to let him anywhere near my place.

He turns around and hits the gas, sending us hurtling back towards my place.

Two minutes later and we are there.

"How much do I owe you?" I ask, intrigued that he actually thought I'd let him come up and make me pancakes.

"No charge," he tells me, as he gets out of the car, then actually walks around to open the back car door for me.

I slip a fifty into his shirt pocket. "For the ride and the groceries," I inform him. "But I'll make my own fucking pancakes, thank-you very much."

He sighed, then rolled his eyes at the stars.

I walk away, feeling his horny eyes gaze at my large, magnificent ass.

"You're a real bitch, aren't you?" he shouts at me.

His words stop me in my tracks. I was sick and tired of guys thinking they were entitled to tell me what to do and what to eat and how to act and what names I should be called.

I turn and strut my stuff back towards him.

I am determined to get face to face with him, and listen triumphantly as my five inch heels click across the pavement.

"Fuck you," I scream at him.

"No, fuck you," he screams back.

I think about spitting or issuing a slap, but then think better of it. He brought me home safe and even wanted to make me pancakes. Besides, I was still woozy from the two tokes and didn't want to escalate things in my stoned state.

He pulls the fifty out of his pocket and tries to put it in my pocket as I had done to him, but realizes I have no pocket.

He feels angry at my petulance but emboldened enough to shove it down my cleavage, causing his fingers to brush against my giant breasts. If I was going to slap him, now would be the time. But I feel strangely excited at his touch.

I decide I want to hear him out. "What's your problem?" I say, lowering the volume of my voice.

"You're the one with the attitude," he says. "I try to do something nice for you cause I can see you're having a rough night, and you treat me with such disrespect."

"You mean by something nice, coming upstairs and fucking me senseless, is that it?"

"Only if you want," he whispers, totally hypnotized by my sexy features.

His eyes are a boring brown, and yet he is strangely different than most other guys I have ever met.

Not that he is nicer per se, cause I've dated a lot of really nice guys, but he is not focused on sex, rather on me and my happiness.

He knew I wanted pancakes, and was determined to get me some.

"You sure you know how to make 'em?" I asked, my nipples stiffening under my stretchy top.

He noticed immediately, and glared in amazement at the two swollen bullets now pointed at him.

"You're not staring at my eyes anymore," I mused, causing us both to giggle.

His gaze suddenly intensified, and gave me cause to examine his appearance more closely.

His clothes were bargain basement at best, and he sported two chipped teeth that should have been capped, but were not, probably as a result of no funds. He was a little chubby around the waste, no doubt a result of guzzling pasta, and too much frozen pizza.

"I'm not much to look at, am I?" he declared, making me feel ashamed for gawking.

"You're very cute," I lied, nervously twirling a strand of long blond dyed hair with an outstretched finger. Something about the dweeb really turned me on, and part of my anger towards him had been on purpose, hoping to drive him away. I was a girl that fell in love easily, and the last thing I wanted was to fall for some penniless shmuck who wasn't even attractive.

Still, he was at least "kind of" cute, and despite my anxiety, at that present moment, I felt strangely aroused by him. Having him join me upstairs, even if it was only for a chat and for some company, was good enough for me. I certainly didn't want to fuck him, but a part of me felt that maybe a slow edging hand job might be enough reward for giving me what I really wanted, which was some really good pancakes.

"Come on up. Make me your pancakes," I said, almost in a whisper.

I put the key in the slot and turned it, listening to the tumblers turn over.

I waited for him to open it for me, which he finally did, then stepped in front of him, crossing the marble hallway, leading to the elevator.

The doors were already open. He held them ajar, beckoning for me to step inside. I pressed the floor number, watching him in the mirrored walls as the doors slid shut behind him.

He was about six feet, an average build, and had grey hair. Upon closer reflection, in the bright elevator lights, he looked much older than I had first thought.

"Maybe I should call you grandpa," I teased, thinking he might make some snarky remark, just to keep the tension going. But he shook his head a bit then breathed down in anguish. His face further reddened.

"What's your problem now?" I asked, sporting a wry but beautiful smile.

"My problem is you," he blurted out, losing control of his emotions.

"Me?" I shouted, snapping my head back in disgust.

"Yeah you," he added, reaching out and slapping the red "emergency stop" button.

The elevator jerked to a standstill.

"Maybe I outta just keep you here and fuck your brains out," he spat out clumsily.

His words were bold but harmless. It now dawned on me that my body and pretty face had made him impossibly horny. But that wasn't my problem.

"You dare touch me without permission and I'll bust your balls, you wimp."

With those words I hit the red button and the elevator jerked upward once more, moving quickly to my floor.

He muttered sheepishly as he followed me out, clutching the bag of ingredients.

I allowed him to follow me to my door, then spun round and gave him an angry glare. "Just remember, you're here to make me pancakes, not to try and get into my pants. You try fucking with me and I'll scratch your face off."

I opened the door and he walked inside behind me. Then he closed the door.

I tossed the keys onto the coffee table and said, "follow me," wagging an index finger at him as I led him towards the kitchen.

"Nice place," he commented.

"Who's your friend?" The loud unexpected female voice came from the kitchen and echoed throughout the entire condo.

My heart sank. It was loud mouth, busy body Diane. She was a chatterbox, but, nevertheless, a good friend also, and she was staying with me for a week while on holidays in LA. She lived in New York, and always let me stay with her at her place whenever I had a photo shoot there.

"I thought you were at an all night party?" I whined.

"It got raided by the cops looking for drugs and pushers."

"And?"

"And they found lots of both."

"They let you go?"

"They didn't let anyone go. I slipped out a bathroom window. But I dropped some acid and ecstasy. So my head's pretty fucked right now."

"I told you that you ought to lay off that shit. This guy's here to make me pancakes. You hungry?"

She shrugged off my question and looked the driver up and down. Obviously, despite being a little on the old side, he looked better in the light. She felt he was at least somewhat handsome with broad shoulders, but an otherwise average build. Obviously nothing like the mag cover hunk, Kevin.

"Soooooo what happened to that dreamboat, Kevin?" she blurted out suspiciously.

I sighed. "What the fuck do you care?"

"I don't care at all. But I told you Kevin was a conceited, bossy asshole. I'm a good judge of guys. He may be a hot hunk, but he's fucking full of himself."

"So you keep telling me," I countered, getting a little annoyed.

"Actually, I'm just curious about this other hunk here walking in your kitchen."

"You really think I'm a hunk?" the driver said, his eyes lighting up.

He somehow looked much different when he smiled, more purposeful and alluring.

"Soooooo where'd you find him?"

"He's just a stray I picked up on the way home," I told her. "He's a good driver though. He helped me ditch Kevin, not exactly an easy thing to do."

"Not easy at all. So what's this guy's name?"

"Dunno."

"You brought some strange guy home and you don't even know his name?"

"I'm Richard," he whispered, his eyes focused on the voluptuous and ultra sexy Diane. Like me, she had a gorgeous face, giant boobs and a generously round, sweet ass.

"You're kind of cute," Diane offered, her index finger teasingly twirling a long strand of permed hair. I had played with my hair earlier in similar fashion. But I had only been trying to tease him, Diane seemed as if she wanted to give him ideas.

"He's here to make pancakes, not model for you so you can wave your breasts at him."

Diane ignored my words and allowed her gorgeous emerald eyes to remain steadfast upon him. I could tell her gaze was turning him on, and in a few seconds he was sporting a massive hard on under his pants. It really showed. And it really got me thinking that I may have underestimated his sexiness.

"I normally am very hard to get," Diane murmured, her smile no longer tentative, but rather deadly and in earnest. "But in your case I may make an exception."

"You're just saying that caused you're tripping on acid and ecstasy."

"So he makes me horny. What the fuck do you care? According to you he's only here to make dinner."

I was shocked and taken aback. What the fuck was she saying? That she suddenly wanted to impale herself on this guy's bulging cock? I had brought him up to make pancakes, not to let her run her glossy painted lips up and down his rod.

The glow on her pretty face made my jaw drop. Why was she going so gaga over the guy? Was she that stoned? Or had it really been that long since she'd slept with a guy?

I sighed. One thing I knew for sure was that Diane always seemed to be horny, and often would come onto guys at the drop of a hat. Only the guy she was now drooling over wasn't much to look at. But as he stood next to her, it was plain to see that the bulge in his pants was quite formidable looking.

It also seemed probable, from the aroma of stale weed, and the half empty wine bottle on the cupboard, that Diane had kept her party going after reaching home. She could get very frisky when in the mood, and getting really sky high always put her in the mood.

She suddenly reached out to rub the erection under his pants touching the bulge then running her fingers along its impressive length. Her daring tease was unexpected but gloriously welcome, and his stunned face glowed with joy before it started to redden.

My mouth flung wide open but before any words of protest could come out, his zipper was down and she held his long chunky cock in mid-air.

She stroked it, showing off her long painted nails and kneeling so she could kiss his shiny cock head.

His glistening cock soon went from six inches...to eight...then ten. A full ten inches of rock hard chewy goodness.

"What a fucking giant cock," Diane shouted as her tongue and lips did their skilful thing.

He began to moan, and she began to suck in earnest.

I was appalled and annoyed, yet instantly horny. Diane was sucking and jerking off my chef, her hands pumping furiously while her glossy, no nonsense lips made him shiver in ecstasy. She was really caught up in the moment.

A minute passed, then two, then five, then ten.

Her grunts of unabated pleasure began to turn me on, and I finally lost control. If she were going to have all the fun, then she was going to have to at least share.