Beef with Broccoli - Sex Stories

Sex Stories, Erotic Stories, Porn Stories, XNXX Stories, Adult Stories, XXX Stories

Sex Stories Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Anal, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Fantasy, Incest, Hardcore, First Time, Dark Fantasy, Young, Group Sex, True Story, Romance, Masturbation, Domination/submission, Male/Female, Teen Male/Teen Female, Written by women, Teen, Erotica, Lesbian, Mature, Bi-sexual, BDSM, Exhibitionism, Virginity, Taboo, Humiliation, Female/Female, Cheating, Reluctance, Male/Teen Female, Rape, Threesome, Bondage and restriction, Gay, School, Voyeurism, Non-consensual sex, Cruelty, Love Poems, Violence, Teen Male / Female, Ass to mouth, Coercion, Wife, Male / Females, Job/Place-of-work,
Best Porn Sites

Beef with Broccoli

Date: 2/12/2016, Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Erotica, Written by women, Author: CandyXLove, Rating: 92.9, Source: sexstories.com

receipt from our pressed palms and turn away, ostensibly to hunt around for a pen. I'm burning with my blush. I was going to be a lot more suave before he turned out to be really hot, young B.D. Wong hot. I wonder if they're related? I wonder, immediately after, if just having that thought means I'm a racist. I'm trying to think of something, anything to say to mitigate how awkward I've made this. "You're my favorite!" I blurt out, digging through my purse for a pen. "That's nice," he replies automatically, pleased before more confusion sets in. "Wait, your favorite...what now?" "Favorite Chinese restaurant," I recover, finally finding a pen, unable to uncap it. I pull at it, hard. "It's the egg rolls. They're the best." He smiles, the tempting full bottom lip stretching and looking more attractive than ever. "Oh, thanks! Thanks a lot. They're fresh, my aunt makes, like, a thousand of them every morning, she's really proud of them." He watches me give up on yanking the top off the pen. I grip the cap with my teeth and try to pry it off. No dice. "Hey, if I can set this down, I think I've got a pen..." His eyes are laughing. I am too ridiculous right now to judge accurately, but I think it's a kind laugh. I open the door and step back, letting him in. He sets the paper bag down on the coffee table in front of my couch. For the first time, I'm worried my colorful apartment may make me look more "mentally ill" than "pleasantly bohemian." I toss my recalcitrant pen back in my ... bag and take the one he holds out to me, scribbling my name as quickly as I can while he looks around. "Whoa, what's that?" He asks, tilting his head towards at my television. On the screen, a group of teenagers in tight jeans are drinking beer and laughing obnoxiously in an old barn, oblivious to the desiccated corpse crucified in the hayloft above them. "Oh, I must not have paused it. That's Scream Bloody Death, another of my favorites." "Scream Bloody Death is your favorite movie?" He asks, incredulously. "Sort of. Yeah," I say, deciding not to be embarrassed. "It's not going to win any Oscars or anything, and there's a scene where you can definitely see the boom mic at the top of the shot, but it's honest, you know? It doesn't pretend to be anything it's not, it isn't trying and failing to say something important. It's just a straightforward exploration of horrible teenagers and the crazy preachers who want to kill them in the most graphic way possible." "Absolutely," he agrees, grinning at me in admiration, "it's a classic. I've never met a woman who liked a real splatterfest before." Holy shit. He thinks I'm cool. Somehow, I got him to round me up to being cool. "Can I get you a beer?" "Well," he rubs his neck under his ponytail and looks like he's considering it, "On the one hand, I do like beer. On the other, I'd sort of like to keep my job." He made a big show of stroking his chin, pondering. "Wait, what kind of beer are we talking about, exactly? It might be worth ...