Hey, baby, what’s cooking?” Todd called out as he entered our house.

This is his standard question on the nights when I make it home from work before he does. We often take turns preparing meals for each other, each of us delighting in the surprise of a waiting feast. This evening, however, the kitchen was closed, and Todd had to pass through the swinging wood doors into the dining room to find me.

The gilded light of glimmering candles momentarily shocked him into silence. He blinked curiously at the sight spread out before him on our table. My favorite heavy lace tablecloth dressed up the sturdy antique table, and an extravagant bouquet of fragrant white roses sat on the nearby credenza. All that was lacking from the well-planned decor was the silverware, napkins, glasses, and plates. But that was okay. We weren’t going to need any of those things for the dinner I had planned.

“Did I forget something, Dana?” he asked, sounding concerned. “Are we expecting company?”

“I had a good day at work,” I told him, smiling. “We’re celebrating.”

“But what are we eating?” he asked, looking even more bewildered. I answered his question with actions rather than words, and his green eyes widened in surprise. In one slinky gesture, I pulled my lavender dress over my head and tossed it onto a chair. As Todd gazed at me, I brought my hands between my breasts and unsnapped the clasp of my frilly white bra. This piece of luxurious lingerie perfectly matched the lace of the tablecloth, which was intentional on my part. I’d planned the evening down to the tiniest detail, going so far as to coordinate my outfit with the formal table linens.

With Todd’s eyes still focused intently on my every move, I let down my long hair, removing the pins in the back and shaking my dark tresses free. Then I reached for the final touch to my outfit, which was hanging on a nearby chair. It was a dainty, see-through apron, and I fastened it around my waist so that the ties of the bow hung down loosely in the back. Clad only in my apron, panties, garter belt with fishnet stockings, and insanely high-heeled stilettos, I struck a sexy pose for my husband and waited for his response.

A charming smile lit up his eyes, but he didn’t move. He seemed to comprehend that something unique was going on and that if he let me lead the way, he would definitely enjoy himself. As he stared at me, I stroked my breasts lightly, rubbing my palms in generous circles over my pink nipples. The rest of my body responded immediately, a sexy wetness developing beneath the apron, dripping from my pussy and drenching my panties. I shifted my hips from side to side, rubbing my thighs together to feel the warm moisture gathering between my legs.

“Oh, you bad girl,” Todd said softly, his voice sounding low and husky. “Dana, just look at you.”

At his words, I gazed at my reflection in the glass doors of our breakfront. My flowing black hair complemented my pale skin, and I felt a flush of heat flaming my cheeks. Desire beat fiercely in my expression.

I tweaked my nipples firmly between my fingertips, feeling them grow even more erect than they had been. Then I slowly licked two of my fingertips and traced that lush wetness in circles around those hardened nubs.

“Don’t stop, Dana,” Todd sighed. “Don’t stop.” As he spoke, he took a step forward, as if he wanted to take over for me and touch me with his own fingers or mouth, but I shook my head sternly.

“You wait your turn,” I told him.

I reached under the apron and peeled my sticky panties away from my pussy, rolling them down my thighs and then kicking them off. The twin apron strings tickled the bare, peach-split crack of my ass, adding an extra-naughty charge to my desire. I was dripping wet already, and the evening’s festivities had barely gotten under way. I wondered if he could make out my scent from where he stood. From the ravenous look on his handsome face, I guessed that he could, and that he found the heady aroma even more enticing than that of a home-cooked meal.

Standing in front of him again, wearing only that wicked apron, garter belt, stockings, and spiked heels, I asked one simple question: “Are you hungry, baby?” He nodded quickly, as though saying a single word would dissolve the erotic vision before him.

“I’m so glad,” I said, “because tonight I have prepared a special meal for you. In fact, it’s a house favorite.” I hoisted myself up onto the dining room table and spread my body out in front of him in a decadent display. The fancy lace beneath my ass created a cushioning layer on top of the hard, cold wood. “I hope you’re ready,” I continued, staring into his lust-filled eyes, “because your dinner has just been served.”

“You mean my ‘Dana,’ don’t you?” he asked, smiling. It was obvious to me that Todd’s appetite had switched from a hunger for food to an urgent need for me. He took a step closer and then paused, as if he was unsure of what to do next. It seemed like he couldn’t decide whether to take the time to strip out of his suit or simply bury his head between my spread thighs. Before I could offer my own selfish suggestion, he made the correct decision himself.

Walking to the edge of the table, he scooped up my round ass cheeks in his hands and lifted my sopping pussy to his mouth. At first, he ate me through the transparent fabric of the apron, remembering how much I like the feeling of a barrier at the onset of stimulation. Todd’s mouth played delightful tricks against the sheer material. I moaned when he traced the cleft between my pussy lips with his tongue. Licking hard, he connected with my fabric-covered clit in a jolt of wet heat, sending a shiver all through my body. Then Todd untied the apron, yanked it off me, and got down to business. His tongue slipped between my swollen pussy lips, testing the wetness within my sex. He sighed when he realized how drenched I was, and then lapped energetically at my cunt, tasting me, sipping me, drinking my juices before driving his tongue deep inside me.

“I don’t know whether to eat you or fuck you,” he murmured into my dripping-wet slit.

“Both,” I told him, urgently. “Both.”

“Yes,” he sighed, before pressing his tongue hard against my pussy again. Lapping at me hungrily, he made sure that I was nice and creamy before setting my hips gently back down on the table’s edge. Then he ripped open his pants, not even bothering to take them off, and brought out his throbbing cock. With his gleaming eyes focused on mine, he slid his cockhead into my pussy. “Eat and then fuck. Fuck and then eat,” he said, like a mantra. “That’s what you want, baby, isn’t it?”

Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted. The feeling of being instantly filled was overwhelming. His cock pushed between the slippery walls of my throbbing pussy, driving into me hard and deep. I couldn’t remember ever wanting him so badly, but the next moment, he was withdrawing from my cunt. It was as if he knew how much I could take before I’d go over the edge.

“Eat again,” he said in his abbreviated manner, bending before the table to flick his tongue rapidly over my dripping pussy. The short ride to heaven he’d given me on his cock had made me even wetter than before, and he eagerly slurped up my juice.

“You’re absolutely delectable,” he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. The echo of his words vibrated against my pussy, making my clit twitch with pleasure. “I could eat you all night.” I closed my eyes, more than ready to let him. His questing tongue seemed to disappear all the way inside my slit, until his mouth was firmly sealed against my pussy. Then he wriggled his tongue back and forth inside me, and I grabbed fistfuls of his hair with both hands and slammed myself against him.

As I bucked my hips toward Todd’s face, he switched positions, keeping me teetering on the brink of ecstasy but not letting me reach my goal. I was so hot and ready, and my pussy was swimming in a pool of slippery nectar. I wanted to come, and Todd knew it. When all I needed was one more direct stroke of his tongue to my clit, he made loopy circles around it instead, torturing me sweetly, never even accidentally brushing against that hot gem.

“Please,” I begged.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he admonished me. “I’m eating.”

He was teasing me with my own game, giving me a pussy-licking to outlast all others. As he continued to make those taunting circles around my clit, I got so excited that I thought I might literally combust if he didn’t let me climax soon. I saw it clearly in my mind — I would flambé like cherries jubilee!

“Todd,” I murmured.

“You’re really ready, huh?” he finally whispered. My eyes were clenched shut, my whole body shuddering, desperately on the verge of climax. Before I could answer, he moved away from the table and reintro — duced his cock into my cunt.

Going back and forth between feeling his tongue on my pussy and being pierced by his cock was sexual overload. What did I truly want? His tongue or his cock? I didn’t know. I wanted them both. It was like being presented with a detailed menu at a fabulous restaurant. My mind reeled with choices. Did I want him to climb on top of me and shake the table with his powerful thrusts? Would I rather he flip me over and take me doggie-style? Perhaps I’d prefer we move into a sixty-nine so my mouth would have something to suck as I melted into the bliss of being dined upon? I could no longer think about what I wanted. I put myself in my husband’s capable hands and let him choose the order of our courses.

He answered by pumping hard with his hips, and when he withdrew, a fresh flood of honey seeped from my pussy. But before offering me the pleasure of his tongue again, he stripped entirely out of his suit, letting me see his hard, muscled body glistening with sweat in the candlelight.

“Get ready, Dana,” he murmured, staring down at me as he thrust his cock all the way into my cunt. Seconds later, his mouth was back between my legs, his tongue playing those dreamy tricks along my dripping-wet pussy lips. He licked and nibbled each one in turn, teasing them before moving down to leave wet kisses on my thighs. Taking his time, he worked back up to the entrance to my pussy. He used his fingers to spread my labia wide-open, and then he finally finished me off. Licking in sweet, satiny circles around my pulsing clit, he increased the pace and pressure until, finally, I was coming. I threaded my fingers through his soft hair, searching for something to steady myself, as pockets of pleasure bubbled up and exploded inside me.

As I writhed through my release, Todd moved away from my pussy long enough to say, “I hope you enjoyed the first course, mademoiselle.”

I stared up at the wood beams in our ceiling, trying to get myself under control. My body was still trembling, my heart racing. First course? That meant there would be a second course, possibly a third, and most likely some sort of outrageous, indecent dessert. Before I could contemplate how Todd had managed to turn the tables on me, so to speak, he was pushing me further onto the table and then maneuvering us into a sixty-nine.

I took a few seconds to admire the bulging, rose-colored head of his cock — so deep, so rich, so ready for my tongue to lick and flick over the tip — before I drew the head and the rod deep down into my throat.

Without another moment of hesitation, I rewarded my husband for being such a good pussy-eater. I gave the head of his cock a deeply welcoming French kiss, getting it all slick and wet with the moist heat of my mouth. I tasted my tangy juices on him, and that made me incredibly hot. There is nothing more erotic to me than sucking my own flavor off my husband’s shaft, thinking about how his cock was just buried inside me.

My thoughts took a sharp detour when Todd returned his mouth to my pussy. He took his time, teasing me with his tongue as he tasted the ambrosial liquid of my orgasm. He knows to touch me softly after I climax, and he did exactly that, using whisper-soft caresses along the length of my tender pussy lips. I responded in kind, running my tongue up and down his throbbing shaft. As soon as we were in sync, Todd pursed his lips around my clit and gave it a firm suck.

Immediately, I mimicked his actions with my lips, closing them around his cockhead and treating it like a big, round lollipop. Todd moaned and bucked his hips against me. For several minutes, he had been choreographing our little dance, but now I was in charge again. Drawing the length of his cock all the way into my mouth, I swallowed around him. The tight contractions in my throat around his steel-like shaft made him moan even louder.

Pleased with the response, I kept feasting on him in my own style. I moved my mouth up and down, releasing a few inches of his cock before enveloping him once again. The shaft grew glossy with the wetness of my saliva, and Todd helped me find the pace that he most craved. Moving his hips, he arched against me, driving his cock in deep. Back and forth he went, thrusting in and then sliding out of my mouth, and never ceasing his tongue’s caress of my pussy. The entire time I worked him, he treated me to a deliciously sensuous second course. But I was suddenly overwhelmed with greedy thoughts, envisioning myself coming again. I pressed hard against his face to gain the clit-to-tongue contact that would take me over the edge.

We played each other perfectly, using the experience of our years together to guide us. We moved in a sexy dance on the table until I was moaning around his dick, letting him know that I was going to come again. I continued to suck on him as my orgasm rose up and then crested in a wave of pleasure. A hard suck, a long swallow, and then he came with me, quickly filling my mouth with his semen. I made sure to capture every delicious drop, so I would be able to swallow his whole creamy load.

“So, Dana,” Todd said, rolling over and moving his body so that we were face-to-face. He grasped my waist with one strong arm and held me close to him. “What’s for dinner?”

Now whenever I hear this question, once a simple query, my face blushes hotly and my pussy quivers. Those innocent words make me want to take my panties down and press my sex against my husband’s handsome face, no matter where we are. I always choose the items on our erotic menu — pussy-licking, sixty-nining, come-swallowing — over food. And when we finish the first course, I wait on the very edge of my seat for course number two, and sometimes there’s even room for dessert.