Cherry Pie

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved to cook. It started when I was very young and I’d help my mother in the kitchen. Eventually I began baking on my own and slowly moved to preparing entire meals. But I’d always loved baking desserts the most. People seemed to enjoy those much more than anything else I made. After several years, I started playing with the ingredients and making up my own pastries, cookies, cakes and pies. Some of them were disasters, but others turned out really well. I judged my success on the response of the people who ate what I’d prepared. My mother and her friends were my main test subjects. They were usually very appreciative, but on occasion, they would complain about how I was making them all so fat.

Eventually, I moved out on my own. I found a nice apartment near the restaurant where I was employed as a Greeter. I would have rather been a cook, but my manager said I was more suited for the Greeter position. Apparently he thought I was friendly and cute, the two main qualities required for the Greeter position. I suppose at 5 foot, 6 inches and weighing it at under 130 pounds, cute is an appropriate term for a 19 year old boy.

After work, I spent my free time experimenting with recipes. The problem with baking at my new home was I really didn’t like to eat much of it. I liked to taste it, to judge for myself, but I really didn’t want to eat an entire pie, or a few dozen cupcakes, or a whole cake, or a dozen éclairs. At first I saved everything, but it all went bad waiting for someone to eat it. So I began throwing it all away after I’d tasted it and passed judgment on the recipe. I felt bad for throwing away food like that. But I really didn’t know what else to do with it.

One afternoon, I’d just pulled my latest cherry pie from the oven. It was steaming hot, the crust was golden brown, and it smelled delicious. It looked almost perfect, a little of the filling had boiled up over some of the criss-cross crust. In my mind it was a failure and I hadn’t even tasted it yet.

A knock on my door brought me out of the slump I was quickly slipping into. As I opened the door, I was surprised to find my across-the-hall neighbor, Mrs. Riley. She was a mature woman, quite a bit older than I was. She was also a very full-figured lady with breasts, hips and thighs that would easily compete with my mother’s and her friends. She had dark brown hair that was styled perfectly each time I’d seen her, like she just came from a salon. She also had big, dark brown eyes and a smile that could make my knees weak. As soon as my door opened, I saw her inhale. And with a smile on her face she asked, “What in the world is that delightful smell?”

I told her it was a pie I’d just taken out of the oven, I offered her a slice if she wanted one. She readily accepted and she didn’t mind when I told her she’d have to wait a while for it to cool down. I’d always thought pie tasted its best when warm, not steaming hot and fresh from the oven. We sat down at my modest table and chairs. And I poured her a cup of fresh Hazelnut coffee with a pinch of cinnamon.

Up until that day, we’d only greeted each other in the hallway. But as we sat across the table from each other we learned the basics about each other, past relationships, or lack thereof in my case, families, or lack of a family in her case, where we worked, things like that. Just when the conversation was coming to an awkward pause, Mrs. Riley told me I’d been torturing her with the smells of my cooking since I moved in. I began to apologize, but she cut me off. She told me the only reason I should be apologizing is because I hadn’t invited her over sooner. I blushed and felt terrible that I hadn’t thought of that.

I soon stood up and cut her a very healthy sized slice of pie. I also added a scoop of vanilla ice cream I’d made a few days earlier in my ice cream maker. One of my mother’s friends bought the maker for me before I left home. I laid a clean fork on the dish and set it in front of her, taking my seat opposite of her.

Mrs. Riley asked, “Aren’t you going to have some?”

I explained that I’d rather watch her eat it, it was how I found out if she liked it or not. And her opinion of the pie meant more to me than my own.

I know she felt a little uncomfortable eating pie with me sitting there watching there. But she soon picked up her fork and took a bite. The instant it touched her tongue, I knew she liked it. She had the same reaction my mother and her friends had when they really liked a dessert. Her eyes sort of rolled up and a moan slipped through her lips. She told me it was wonderful, the best pie she’d ever had. Mrs. Riley then went back for another bite. She moaned again, closed her eyes ankara escort bayan and arched her back a little.

I’d always thought that for some women, eating something sweet could almost be sexual thing. I suppose that was part of the reason I loved to cook so much. I’d always been what my mother would call a “people pleaser”. And when I cooked, it generally pleased people.

In no time at all, Mrs. Riley had finished the cherry pie a la mode. I asked if she’d like another slice. She told me, “I really shouldn’t, I shouldn’t have had the slice I already ate. I know what I just ate exceeded my points for the day.” I knew she was talking about Weight Watchers. My mother had been doing it for years, I was very familiar with the lingo.

If there was one thing I learned from being around women my whole life, it is that women sometimes forget they are pretty. So I began to remind Mrs. Riley. I told her she was very pretty and shouldn’t worry about losing weight. I went on to inform her that she was perfect just the way she was. While I told her these things, I took her plate from in front of her and set it in the sink. I pulled down a dinner sized plate from my cupboard and cut her an even bigger slice of pie, leaving less than half of the pie in the pan. I also put three big scoops of ice cream on and around the pie.

When I turned and set the plate in front of her, Mrs. Riley looked like she might cry. She told me in a cracking voice that no one had told her anything like that in a very long time. I smiled, while still standing there, and told her I was only telling her the truth.

She didn’t make a move for the pie I’d cut for her, she was sitting there holding back her tears and staring at the pie and ice cream in front of her. So I scooted my chair over close to hers. I picked up the fork and got a big bite of pie on the end. Raising it to her lips, I reminded her again how beautiful she was and not to worry about silly things like calories and saturated fats. She slowly parted her lips and I slipped the pie into her mouth. Her eyes closed and that moan emerged from inside her. After feeding her four or five more bites, I think Mrs. Riley began to believe that she was pretty again, the tears faded away and she became happier. But she didn’t make a move to take the fork from me. So I kept feeding her bite after bite of the pie and ice cream.

As she swallowed the last bite, I sat here beside her, my skinny thigh against her thick thigh. She turned and looked right into my eyes, with a little glob of cherry filling on the corner of her mouth, she said, “If I had met you 20 years ago, I would’ve asked you to marry me and never let you go.”

I smiled, reached up and scooped the filling from her cheek on my finger. I told her she missed a little bit. She took ahold of my forearm and moved my fingers to her mouth. It was then my turn to moan when she licked and sucked my fingers clean. I hadn’t realized how aroused I’d gotten just feeding Mrs. Riley. It was pretty strange to both of us, I’m sure.

As my fingers slipped from her mouth, there was a very awkward moment. Neither of us spoke, and the way she was looking at me made me nervous. Something needed to be done, so I stood up and took her plate to the counter. There was only a little more than a quarter of the pie left, and I asked if she wanted another slice. Mrs. Riley insisted that she was full and couldn’t eat another bite. I frowned, lowered my eyes to the floor and told her she mustn’t have like it that much if she didn’t want one more little slice.

When I looked back up into her eyes, she was staring at my groin. It was then that I realized my modest penis was rock hard under the khaki shorts I was wearing. While not tearing her eyes away from the small lump in my shorts, she agreed to one more small slice.

I turned back toward the counter and laid the rest of the pie on her plate. I went to the freezer and retrieved the ice cream container. Mrs. Riley told me to just put a tiny bit of ice cream on the pie. So I put four large scoops all over her plate, emptying the container I keep it in. I took her plate and walked back toward her, she looked from my eyes, to the lump in my shorts to the plate in my hand.

“I said a little slice and tiny bit of ice cream! That is a lot more than what I asked for! You’re terrible!” she spoke with a happiness in her voice I hadn’t heard before.

As I set the plate down in front of her, she took ahold of my left wrist with her right hand. Her left hand then moved to cup over my stiff penis. She looked up into my eyes as I moaned and wiggled against her touch. Without a word, she released my wrist and moved both hands to the button on my shorts. mersin escort bayan Maintaining eye contact, she undid my shorts, hooked her index fingers under my shorts and underpants and slowly lowered them passed my knees. Letting them go, it all fell around my ankles.

Up until that moment, my sexual experience was limited to kissing and over the clothes petting. Standing there with my erection out in the open, Mrs. Riley had already taken me farther than I’d ever gone before. She let me stand there blushing for a moment with her hands on my hips, letting her eyes wander from my bare feet to my eyes. She lingered on my thin, four-and-a-half inch erection longer than anywhere else. In a soft whisper, she said, “You are beautiful.”

She then took me by my wrist and pulled me down onto her lap. With our faces so close together, I thought she might kiss me, instead she slowly pulled my tshirt upward, my last piece of clothing was being removed. I raised my arms slowly as Mrs. Riley pulled it up over my head and dropped it on the floor with my other clothes. I was completely naked and perched across her lap. Her left arm was looped behind my back and held my opposite hip. I’d never felt so vulnerable before.

I tried to say something, but she raised the index finger of her free hand and set it across my lips. “Shhh.”, was all she said. That same finger slowly drug its way down my chin, neck, chest and stomach until it looped its way around my penis. Her thumb pressed in from the opposite side and she began to slowly stroke me up and down.

I felt so sexy and horny, it was something completely new to me. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, the feelings were so powerful. I was about to ask if I should do something when Mrs. Riley leaned in close and kissed me. The kiss was a soft, gentle kiss. Her tongue entered my mouth with no urgency, she licked the front of my teeth and let her tongue dance slowly with my own. I could taste cherry pie and coffee. It was a perfect moment and I’ll remember it always.

When the kiss broke apart, she smiled at me and whispered, “Pie.” While raising her chin and motioning to the slice on the table.

I giggled a little and then took the fork in my hand. Scooping up a large bite, I raised it to her lips and fed her while sitting naked on her lap with her fingers sliding up and down along my excited penis. She obviously knew what she was doing, it’s like she could feel when I was about to squirt and her fingers would stop moving. They would only begin caressing me when I’d completely calmed down.

From time to time I would forget to feed her. When that happened, she would whisper that one word to me again, “Pie.” And I would giggle while scooping up another bite. In was during one of those moments when I began to smell her sex in the air. At first I wasn’t sure what it was. It smelled so musky and humid, it was something I couldn’t remember ever smelling before. After several moments, I began to put it all together, I could feel her warmth from beneath me, her breathing was very ragged, and I felt one of her nipples poking against my side. Mrs. Riley was just as horny as I was!

I squirmed on her lap as I scooped up the last bit of cherry pie from the plate and moved it toward her mouth. On the way there, Mrs. Riley began to stroke me really quickly. I was already hornier then I’d ever been before and it was no surprise when the pie slipped off the fork. It landed on my upper thigh and began to slide its way off. Acting quickly, Mrs. Riley pushed the dishes out of the way, helped me stand and then had me lay back on the table. Pulling her chair in close, she looked up into my eyes and began to lick the pie from my leg. After licking up any trace of the pie, she began to lick and kiss her way farther up my thigh.

In one of my most embarrassing moments ever, every muscle in my body went taut and I squealed in a strange high pitch. Mrs. Riley’s lips and fingers weren’t even close to my penis when it squirted. I was twitching and convulsing on the table while the most powerful orgasm I’ll ever have rocked though my body. I’d never heard the strange noises that slipped through my lips before. They were high pitched and sounded very primal. Pearly white drops of my love were squirting up over my stomach, a few even making it to my chest.

When it was all over and I’d finally calmed down, I raised my head to find Mrs. Riley sitting between my spread legs, leaning back in chair, smiling. In a soft voice she said, “That was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Feeling stupid, like I usually do after I masturbate, I leaned up and slid off the table. I staggered to the counter on rubbery legs and got a paper towel. I cleaned izle myself up and tossed the gooey thing in the trash. When I turned, Mrs. Riley was still sitting, watching my every move. When I went to get my clothes, she beat me to them. She told me I looked much cuter without clothes to hide behind.

I realized I hadn’t done anything for her, she must have been so horny. Again, not sure what I was doing, I stepped closer to her and slowly dropped to my knees moving between her heavy thighs. I had no idea what I’d do when I got there, but I decided I’d figure it out. Unexpectedly, she reached down and took my face in her soft hands. She looked down upon me and said, “That is very sweet of you, but you don’t need to bother. I’ve already cum twice. Let’s save that for next time.”

I felt horrible. I hadn’t even noticed that she had orgasmed, twice! I was so tied up in my own feelings and emotions that’s I’d completely overlooked Mrs. Riley’s pleasure. I promised myself I would never let that happen again. I was feeling like such a jerk. When I finally looked up into her eyes again, it was as if she knew how I was feeling and what I was thinking. Those big brown eyes seemed see more than just my physical appearance.

She took my hands and helped me rise up off the floor and at the same time she also stood up. Taking me in her arms, she kissed me once again. Another soft, gentle, unrushed, loving kiss. That kiss was well underway and I was still trying to find a place to put my hands. I couldn’t reach all the way around her, so I wound up resting them on her hips. When our lips parted, she pulled me in close and hugged me against her body.

That’s when she saw the empty 10-inch pie pan and ice cream tub. She moaned again while pulling away just enough to face me. Leaving her hands on my bare hips, she said, “I can’t believe I ate that whole pie. And how much ice cream did I eat? No. Don’t tell me I don’t want to know.”

Standing there naked, I told her it didn’t matter, that I thought she was perfectly beautiful. And if eating pie and ice cream made her happy, she should eat pie and ice cream. I started to go on, but she shushed me with her finger.

“Sweetie, I didn’t mean to sound upset. This is the first time, in as long as I can remember, that I don’t feel morbidly guilty for indulging in foods I love. And baby, I LOVE more than just your cooking. You’ve made me feel like a desirable woman. And I haven’t felt that way in a long time. You are the nicest, sweetest, cutest boy I’ve ever known.”

I felt like I was melting. Mrs. Riley was looking right into my eyes and holding me so gently. It was the moment I learned what loving someone felt like. I didn’t know what to say. I stuttered and stammered while looking up into her eyes. No longer feeling funny about being naked while she was still completely dressed. I gave up trying to express myself with words. I threw my arms up around her neck and initiated a kiss for the first time.

The kiss was just as wonderful as the others. We held each other, our tongues sliding against one another. I could still taste the pie on her tongue. My arms were able to reach all the way up around her neck, which also gave her hands freedom to explore my body without interference. Those hands of hers caressed me from the bottoms of my cheeks to my shoulders and back down again. I was beginning to feel myself getting aroused again when the kiss broke apart. We were both gasping for air and giggling.

She placed her open palm in the small of my back and guided me toward the door. With her free hand on the doorknob, she told me she wasn’t going to hesitate to come over the next time she smelled something good coming from my apartment. I giggled and told her I’d ask the landlord to get me spare key for her. She smiled and told me she’d like that very much, and she was going to hold me to it.

Pulling me in close once again, Mrs. Riley kissed me. It was another long, slow, passionate kiss. It was perfectly wonderful. And then I heard her turn the knob on my door and slowly open it, exposing us both to anyone in the hallway. For a brief moment, I wanted to hide behind the door. But that would mean breaking the kiss. And kissing Mrs. Riley was worth the chance of someone seeing me naked and kissing the woman from across the hall. I didn’t know anyone else in the building anyway. My toes curled up tightly when I made the conscience decision to let her expose me to the thankfully vacant hallway.

The kiss broke to our gasping for breath again. She spoke first, “You are my special boy.” Lowering one hand she slowly drug her fingertip up along the underside of my now very stiff penis. “I’m going to leave you wanting. But when you do masturbate, will you promise that you’ll think of me? Because Sweetie, when I masturbate, you can be sure I’ll be thinking about you.”

After one last quick ‘bunny’ kiss, Mrs. Riley released me and walked into the hallway closing my door behind her.

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