When Jeff and I bought our house, I couldn’t wait to move in. We’d both been in cramped apartments for so long, and moving into our own house was something we’d fantasized about for years.

All the additional closet space, the big living room, the backyard, the fireplace — I’d wanted them all for so long. But most of all, I was excited about the kitchen. I love to cook and bake, and having a full kitchen, with ample counter space and cabinets, was a dream come true.

Jeff liked to joke that I was more in love with that kitchen than with him, and sometimes he wasn’t far off. It was an amazing setup, and whenever I had some spare time, I was working on new recipes or just enjoying all the space I had to work in.

One Sunday afternoon, I was in my new kitchen, cleaning up after making brunch for friends we’d invited over. They’d gone home, and I was loading the dishwasher and putting things away. Jeff came in as I was finishing up. I had just dropped the last pot in the sink to soak when he wrapped his arms around my waist and began to kiss the sweet spot behind my ear. He knew exactly how to get my attention, and my hands curled around the edge of the sink as his delicate kisses made my pulse race.

He trailed kisses up and down my neck, making me moan, and then he spun me around in his arms so he could kiss me squarely on the mouth. His lips were hot and hard against mine, and when his tongue begged for entrance, I eagerly opened my mouth to let him in. Jeff kissed me passionately, his tongue tangling with mine as he pushed me back against the sink and pressed his body firmly to mine. I wasn’t sure where his sudden desire for a make-out session had come from, but I happily kissed him back, twirling my tongue with his and letting my hands wander down to his ass.

We kissed and groped each other for a while, the back of my dress getting wet as my fiancé pressed me against the damp edge of the sink. But before I could complain, he pulled me away from the counter and spun me around again. When I had my back to him, he unzipped my dress and pulled it off without even untying my apron. In seconds, I was standing in front of him in only my bra and thong, my heels, and my apron. Jeff groaned when he took in the sight of me, and he quickly pulled me back into his arms for another searing kiss.

As his mouth claimed mine, I felt his hard-on pressing against my thigh. I knew we were going to fuck before playtime was over, and we were going to fuck in my dream kitchen. I pulled at Jeff’s shirt, untucking it from his pants and ripping at the buttons, then moved on to his belt, which I whipped off him like a pro. We didn’t stop kissing or fondling each other as I undressed him, but I still had him down to his boxers in record time.

Jeff rubbed my cunt through my tiny panties, while his other hand tweaked my nipples through my apron and bra. Jeff always likes to get me off first, and as soon as he felt the juices from my pussy begin to leak through the thin material of my thong, he got down on the floor, lifted my apron, and crawled between my legs. He pulled the flimsy panties down and helped me step out of them before diving in. He used his fingers to spread my lips apart, and then thrust his long tongue deep into my cunt. I jumped at the first touch, but a second later I was relaxed and reveling in the sensations he was providing.

He gave me an expert pussy-licking, his tongue fucking my cunt like a small dick and his fingers teasing me and keeping me on edge. It felt amazing, and my fingers clutched at the front of my apron. Jeff brought me to climax in no time, and my legs shook as I came, my juices flooding his mouth and dripping down my thighs.

We weren’t done yet, though, and as soon as he’d moved from between my legs, he stood up and pulled me toward the island at the center of the kitchen. He lifted me up and sat me on one of the stools that ringed the counter, then reached behind me to unclasp my bra. Again, he managed to get me undressed without untying my apron, and he gave my breasts a firm squeeze before he took off his boxers, the last real article of clothing between us.

As soon as he was undressed, he flipped up the front of my apron and moved between my knees. He guided his cock to my wet, open entrance and thrust into me in one smooth stroke. He filled me perfectly, like always, and started to pump his hips immediately. Even though I’d already climaxed once, I felt myself building up to another orgasm, and I bucked against my fiancé as much as our position would allow.

Jeff pounded into me, and he had to hold tight to my hips to keep me in place as the stool rocked beneath me. It was such an exhilarating experience, and I tried to thrust my hips harder against his, wanting to make our fucking feel even more intense. My hands moved to Jeff’s ass, and I fondled and stroked his firm cheeks as he banged into me, urging him on and making him moan loudly.

It didn’t take long for him to bring me to climax again, and within five minutes I was wailing in ecstasy, my cries so loud I was sure everyone on our street could hear me. But I didn’t care. I hadn’t felt an orgasm that strong in my life, and I loved it!

Jeff didn’t come when I did. He managed to hold himself together a little longer, and it wasn’t until he’d pulled out of my pussy and had me back on the floor that he finally let himself go. He looked into my eyes as he jerked himself off, and when he eventually exploded, he shot his come over the top of my apron to coat my tits. He shot a river of come all over my breasts, and when he was finally spent, my tits looked like they were covered in a thick, sugary glaze.

Jeff joined me on the floor and we sat side-by-side, our backs against the cabinets, as we caught our breath. It was the first time we’d ever had sex in the kitchen — and the first time we’d ever had a kitchen worth having sex in — and it had been incredible. I’d spent years fantasizing about the perfect kitchen for cooking and baking and hosting parties, but the oven wasn’t the only thing getting hot in my dream kitchen.