It was true; I was stooped over the stove. My mother certainly never cooked and Ian had a tendency to get violent if he didn’t have a meal on the ta...le after work. I said nothing, it was usually best to unless he actually asked a direct question.“What is it?” he asked, stepping closer. The kitchen was far from large and most of the space was taken up by a small dining table so a little closer meant he was almost breathing down my neck“Stew,” I said, keeping my answers short“Smells good, but you. ?? He smiled at me, almostcoquettishly, but still keeping his masculinity intact.? He was fucking good at his job, perfect forme, he knew he was flirting with me, knew it turned me on, but knew I didn?twant anything overtly gay from him. The third male in the booth was squeaking,?Oh sir, please sir, thank you for letting me show you what a pig I am, sir, Ifucking love this stinking shit, oh yes, fuck, mmm, I love my shit!? Thank you, sir, for letting me lick ? mmm,yes, I love it ? thank you for. More

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