DISCLAIMER: I don't anyone in the WWF, ECW or in the WCW, if only in my dreams.
DISTRIBUTION: Flights.
RATING: X-rated, I hope
CONTENT: Sexual situations
SPOILERS: None
SUMMARY: I was watching RAW and I got hungry... go figure.
I can smell what the Rock was cooking, I thought as I walked into his nice Atlanta house. I'd been out shopping for wine most of the afternoon. From the moment he'd sent me on this fool's errand, I knew that he was just planning a way to get me out of his way while he got our anniversary dinner ready.
But I'd gone anyways, looking for a bottle of prissy French wine, which he'd maintained was the only thing which would complement his meal. I'd gone to five liquor stores looking for it and by the time I finally found it, I decided to buy two bottles, one to knock him over the head with and the other to drink while he finally came around.
But I also figured I'd be nice to him and stopped off at Victoria's Secret to buy something that would make him drool. So armed with lethal teddy made out of almost transparent charcoal satin, a matching robe, a pair of slinky little sandals that would kill my cute little toes, and his precious bottle of wine, I walked into the kitchen.
He was a sight to behold, wearing black khakis and one of those black shirts that looked like it had been poured on his delicious chest. And, for once, he wasn't wearing some of those ridiculous expensive shoes of his. My baby was barefoot and, if I do say so myself, even his toes are sexy.
"Here's your wine," I announced.
"Thank you," he said, turning around to look at me.
Every time he looked at me, I felt like it was the first time. It was love at first sight all over again. The way he ran his tongue over his lips, looking at me like a treat he was looking forward to biting into.. Blindly, I walked to him and right into his kiss. God, that tongue of his was sinful.
"Enough for now," he said, pulling away from me. "Go upstairs and slip on something comfortable."
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" I asked, trying to peek into the pots and pans.
"Quite."
With a nice pat to my cute rump, he turned back to his pots and pans.
Twenty minutes later, fresh from a shower, I finally made my way downstairs. The atmosphere in the house was radically different. None of the lights were on, and what light there was came from the living room. He appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but pants, the way I loved the most. What can I say? There is something about his big round copper nipples that made my knees quiver.
I walked to him without a word and he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to his leather recliner. It was made of the softest leather known to man and he sat down in it, with me in his lap.
"What now?" I asked, my nails pulling at his nipples.
"Now, you eat."
He hand fed me, bits of steaks, shrimps, baby carrots, cherry tomatoes, bread until I couldn't eat anymore. It wasn't so much that I wasn't hungry but much more that I was incredibly horny. As he fed me with one hand, his other hand had been busy roaming all over my body through my sexy little nightie until I could hardly breathe. I could feel the wet spot staining his pants but I was past caring. Then his lips started a journey of their own, starting at my collarbone.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"You ate," he explained, "now it's my turn."
His lips made it all over my body, carefully avoiding the most heated of areas until I thought I would go insane. And when he did, I realized, for the nth time, that his tongue didn't just look good on TV. It was a precious tool, to me. He rolled over me and spread my legs, making himself a home inside the deepest parts of me. He started moving, slowly at first, incredibly slowly. And faster and faster as I urged him on. We both came together, splendidly, with me calling out his name as some others called out to God.
I was lying on top of him, my sweat mixing with his when he asked me a question that filled me with so much joy I almost had another orgasm:
"Did you smell what the Rock just cooked for you?"