A Spicy Celery Story

I once shared one of the most pleasant experiences I can remember with a girl named Kinga (her name has been changed due to obvious reasons which you will later find out about, keep reading). Well, with Kinga, I learned, in a very nice way, that there is nothing assured that women will like or won’t like.

It was summer and we were staying in a little wooden house with bricks and tiles near the sea, in a very small and quiet town, however it did not lack any commodities. We were getting a little bored with the sun and sunburns that are a consequence of the beating sun, when all of a sudden a storm struck. It was a very unusually storm because the sky got dark and tons of rain started pouring, however it did not cool the environment which is what usually occurs in places near the sea. We went up to find refuge in a balcony on the upstairs floor, which was well adapted to sea conditions because it was closed with glass sliding doors. There was a big fluffy couch there as well.

We saw that the sea, there below the cliff we were on, had turned into a dark grayish color.

Water kept pouring down over the brick roof non-stop and descended in angle from a couple of meters above our heads until the beam of the top of the window that we had in front of us. The thunder was delicious. And the heat against my naked chest and on the skin of Kinga who dressed with this little skirt and an almost see through shirt and nothing else, was splendid.

It hadn’t been a long time since we last made love, in a simple way, without posing, no rush, and with an absolutely normal satisfaction. Although both of us were very young, we couldn’t have been very desiring. I thought, and I don’t know now if she was able to read it in my mind, that I wanted something else.

Something crazy, something wild.

I wasn’t thinking about the conventional type of love. If we did it I wanted to make her submit, and that she make me submit, anything dirty, hot and ferocious, but not the ritual of kissing for awhile and then descending like going into a pool between her elevated knees and end all the rituals in a normal and almost boring way.

I was looking for something more like a battle, one that would live on in history.

Previously we had bought some things in the supermarket which low and behold amongst those things were celery, oysters, clams, champagne, chocolate, ginger sweets, blue cheese, red wine, and a bunch of other things that are supposed to turn you on.

While we were sitting there on the couch, Kinga spurted out that she was hungry.

She might have been kidding about feeding her something, I don’t know. But in the end since hunger is only satisfied by the mouth and that is what I intended to do. The situation is different though when a man is hungry and needs to do something about it, if it is a manly hunger that is, you know what I’m talking about.

All I knew is that something sparkled in her eyes, so I knew she didn’t need any jokes or insinuations. She got up.

I got up a little bit lazily and followed her into the kitchen.

I haven’t told you until now that Kinga had one of the smallest waists I have ever seen and the largest hips you can imagine, but everything about her shape was harmonious. As is logical, those hips went along perfectly with all that flesh, and all that flesh located on her hind region, well placed, round and firm.

When she walked, it was a glorious sight.

I followed behind her.

We grabbed at each other and laughed as we prepared a snack with celery, it was the simplest recipe I have ever prepared in my life. Keep in mind that we were not about to get into anything elaborate. She was in front of the marble table, trying to chop the celery while I was behind her, I had her trapped, one hand on each one of her breasts, that although they were not big were beautiful, and my front area - you know what I mean - leaning up against those cheeks.

There we were with the sound of the rain, nice weather, bare footed, see through shirt, hot skin, and I was about to explode. All the conditions were set up for an earthquake to happen that would stir the continent.

I realized that that was what she was thinking about. Perhaps the subtle chemicals our skin transmitted which were better than the concepts of words that we tried at moments to expel. She didn’t want the soft bed on her back and a man on top of her; I realized she wanted much more than that.

I decided to receive any strengthening she wanted to offer me. I wanted that cataclysm.

After feeling up those nipples, that had gotten as hard as ever, I wanted to see the walls tremble.

We ate our celery snack while giggling at the same time. We played all the different ways you can play with your tongue, a couple body’s and the couch. I was exploding. Well, my manly hood was exploding. I bit my lips so that it would hurt a little, but without actually hurting myself. I needed to find the way to control myself.

I didn’t want nature to take its course and lose the chance of what was supposed to happen, which was right inside of her.

She still had her skirt on at that point. She defended it as if it were vital for it to still be there. I told myself that in a sense this was part of the adventure.

What could we do with her still dressed?

I had already ripped off my pants – which was the only thing I had been wearing – and she used that wonderful part of her face on me, which give men so much pleasure.

It was fine that she was doing it, but only up to a limit. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want it to be that way. There wouldn’t have been much pleasure in it for her, more than that she had satisfied me. My earthquake included hearing her scream out an orgasm.

I told her to stop, “stop”.

I wanted to take that skirt off of her, place her on her back on the carpet and dance the same choreography, as always, only this time it would be something a lot wilder. All I was worried about was lasting long enough so that she would reach that climax that was assured on my part.

When I leaned to pull her skirt off, she pushed me laughing and I fell on the couch.

I watched her grab something off the table next to the couch, which was a bottle of sun tanning lotion, and saw her open it and pour some of the substance in her hands. Seeing that turned me on even more.

“Please”, I whispered.

She understood that I was telling her that if we didn’t do it right then I would come.

“Quiet” she said. “Put this on” and she passed me some of the cream that was in her hands.

I understood and it seemed as if the cream steamed when I placed it down there.

She was taking off her skirt at that moment. And she looked like you can imagine, with the body she had she could have unleashed all of hell.

I didn’t go right then and there because one part of my brain yelled at me that I couldn’t miss this. She had never wanted me to do her there, in her most tempting area.

She had told me that she didn’t like it, I am almost sure that it was because some animal that had gotten the chance to do so before I did, in a hurry, had caused all the pain that can occur when you go in quickly, without allowing her the time to relax and receive in slowly and at her rhythm.

“Slowly”, she told me, looking at me over her shoulder. I had never seen her eyes shine that way.

I drew near her, taking her to that part of my body we had bathed in that soft cream. I took her near that place where it seemed incredible it could fit in and just leaned up against it.

I noticed she got a little tense, I noticed it in the muscles on her back. But I didn’t do anything else. I stayed still, completely still.

She waited, moved a little, and then pushed a little, while feeling out what I was offering her, measuring its firmness. Surely all the ceremony of preparation was necessary, requiring of just the time that some selfish men do not give.

She herself pushed her body, slowly. She moved back and forward, while the part of my body in contact with hers was exploding in fire.

What a view! Those curves, she had her face down on the couch, her knees were sunken into the soft couch, her fingernails were clawing the cloth, while she groaned and pushed back.

The first tract of the entrance of my body into hers made her stop. That must have hurt, I noticed it by the tension of her fingers and nails. But then she started to move her bottom in small circles, as if tasting, and I noticed that she must have been pushing slowly, because my member disappeared in there, where anyone would have sworn it wouldn’t have fit.

I waited a little, and when the groans indicated so, I started to move.

I had better not say. But we reached that cataclysm. We both ended up with those yells of triumph from nature, like animals that survived. She fell on the couch and I fell on top of her, completely crazy and started kissing her. I kissed her neck, her shoulders, her face. She didn’t turn around. She bit the cloth of the couch. We fell asleep, I don’ t know for how long, and we woke up, and underneath me were those two round splendors.

Without realizing it, I penetrated her again. And she bit the couch again and started groaning in such a way that could have only meant pleasure.

That afternoon and then at night we did it again, trying out positions that were wilder every time. The last time took us around an hour, because I didn’t come, perhaps because I was tired.

Kinga enjoyed it. They need time to enjoy it.

I realized that that thing she said she didn’t like, well, it wasn’t true. She did like it, and how she liked it.

The only thing she needed was the right moment, delicacy, and maybe the help of a snack that set off our deepest desires.

I am not saying that it was necessarily the celery or any of the other things we ate that day. But I am sure it helped us and we will forver be grateful.