Thursday, July 29, 2010

Elle's Tales: Claude

{Claude, 28, Savannah, GA}

As per usual, my company sent me off to secure a deal. This time I was sent to Savannah, GA...alone. No nosy ass Brynn...just a free bird allowed to soar in Savannah's rippling heat. I love the heat. I love the sun on my skin causing a sensual sheen over my skin tone. I love to feel that type of heat that inspires desires for tease. I'd play later though, this was serious business. I had 2 weeks to win over a "wiggling" client. He was on the line, but not quite captured by my company's overall offer. We were offering a  GREAT deal...but, being young...our prospective client had no vision as to how our deal would make for a lucrative return...starting out a slow climb and taking off like a smooth ball of stone on speed-inducing hills. In the long run, not only would he make money, but he'd own most of the rights making him a TRUE "captain" of industry.

Claude Shannon, was suprisingly...a chef. Here is this young thing, tall and fit, brown and fine...heading up a delivery business specializing in "soul'd sweets". All the flavors of his cheesecake line were famous Black southern desserts. Apple Brown Betty. Red Velvet. Sweet Potato. Pecan Pie...and my fave, Banana Pudding...affectionally called "Pudding in Pie". Not only were there cheesecakes, among other confections...there was a savory end of the business. Slabs of ribs, smoked and fried turkey, microwave-to-plate sides, and his newly branded soft drinks. THAT was the focus of my begin a new marketing strategy for the soft drinks. Researching to make sure his products had that "it" selling potential. You had to have commercial "swag" to hit alongside the big guns in the soda industry. My aim was to get him a deal in a few superstore chains and make his foods a household name.

He offered for our meeting to double as a taste-testing of sorts. He made me dinner and dessert in his closed diner/delivery home "Soul'd Sweets".  Even though I usually dress to knock men off their feet, I also dress to be relative to my client. This southern boy would most likely have on a pair of jeans, a casual shirt and a nice pair of loafers...or something close. I decided to dress down, but still bring professionalism to the table AND manage to stay cool in the scorching Savannah nights. YES, they are as humid as the days. I threw on a flowing empire top in a floral pattern, a pair of white capris, a thin white shrug and a pair of white tie-up stilletos. My hair, was pulled into a loose, curly bun and I went pink/natural with my make up. Young and fresh! 

When I reached the door of his establishment, he opened it on cue. He had on damn near everything I said he would except for the "man-sandals" he was sporting. This man Caramel cookie luxe, the build of a thick b-ball player, very close curly hair...almost sandy brown, deeply set eyes...Mmm. He said my name, clearly a second or third time, "Ms. Thorne?". I said, "Yes...yes...Mr. Shannon, right?". He smiled and waved the way for me to enter. He said, "Yes...that would be me. Please have a seat." The seat he referred to was the only table in the store that had a place setting. The ambiance was decidedly classy and romantic for a man of his age to own...I wondered what woman put her style into this cozy nook. The windows were typical Georgian floor to ceiling windows with arched crowning donned in drapes of a deep crimson that were swept gracefully and secured with wrought iron "S-shaped" tiebacks. The tabletops were square, dark-brown granite with crimson runners and a small lit lamp in the center. He had the dinnerware stacked from charger to bowl and simple goblets. The smell was splendid...and I got hungry, instantly. 

Some how in my revelry, I'd missed his disappearance into the back...and as I was finally sitting, he was re-entering the dining area pushing a cart with covered platters on two different racks. Before I could consider what was underneath he removed the cover of the first two platters. Small portions...a taster's plate, were artfully arranged. The braised beef rib sitting atop sun-dried tomato barbecue sauce. Blond mac and cheese (made with aged white Vermont cheddar, mozzarella, Parmesan and suprisingly...goat cheese). Rainbow chard...sauteed with roasted red peppers, garlic, shallots and red chiles. Roasted sweet potatoes with cinnamon/brown sugar/ginger crumble. And panko and herb-coated catfish "fingers" w/a cayenne aoili. For the dessert...thin slivers of each cheesecake offered...and of course his locally famous sodas. They were basic soda waters with flavored syrups that came in "Lemon-Tea", "Cherry Bomb", "Blackberry-Lime", and "Ginger-Orange". I was borderline gluttonous as I partook of each flavor offered...coming away with my culinary mind blown. The star of this show?...Roasted Sweet Potatoes with that MARVELOUS crumble. It was like pie, without crust...but better. We laughed a little over dinner...mostly at my VERY vocal responses to his food. I showed him the proposals and even spot-changed his slogan and selling points based on my own taste experience. By evening's end, I was full as a tick and ready for bed...his. Yet, I was "good" and took myself back to my hotel alone and fingered myself with the same fingers I used to lick the cheesecake off of.

In the middle of the night...a knock at my door came. I had no clue who it was...even though I should've. Throughout the entire night, Claude was eying my tits the way I side-eyed his dick print in his pants. We were eye-fucking each other the entire night...and in spite of it...I managed to bring myself to come back to the room solo. Sleepily and wearily, I asked for identification. "Who is it?". "Claude Shannon, Ms. Thorne." I opened the door not really thinking about my appearance and he said, "You're so beautiful..." as he eyed the floor length white gown I had thin, it displayed my everything in the light shining from the bathroom. I opened my mouth to respond, "Oh my...thank you..." I said self-consciously becoming aware of my disheveled hair and eye spit. He said, "Fuck it...". He closed the door behind himself...backed me to the bed and fell on top of me...kissing me hard...tasting my pussy off my own lips, as I had fallen asleep after pleasuring myself and tasting. He threw up my gown...made love to my nipples with his warm tongue and followed the trail until he tasted first-hand my juices. He sucked on my pussy endlessly. He ate me, like I ate his dinner...and I swear, I wondered if this man would STOP sucking, licking, humming, inhaling, finger-fucking and causing me to squirt back to back. His kisses and pussy-eating style were the same. He was intently focused on the business of lapping and swallowing my creaminess. I think I lost consciousness momentarily. When he finally stood up and unbuckled, unzipped and unveiled his eyes focused barely on what had to be the prettiest thing. I reached for it involuntarily to place in my mouth. He smiled and said, " your legs." I did as I was told and as I sat waiting for him to place himself in me, my clit throbbed and beat in sync with my heart and the hardening of my nipples. He rubbed the fatness of his dick's head up and down my wetness. He kept doing it and I kept trying to place him inside of me with my pelvic thrust. He rubbed his dick up and the sounds of slurps and squishes echoed in spurts between my moans and pleading..."Fuck me, Claude...please. Oh're torturing me..." He kept doing it, never breaking stride and intensifying the speed of what he was doing...he placed the head at my entrance several times teasing the pulsing openness. He'd barely place it in and then pull it out, creating a sucking sound and then continue with "greasing" his pipe with my stickyness. As my clit swelled and my nut swirled and my back arched...he shocked me by putting his dick in swiftly and fucking me with barely 3 strokes...ending in the strongest orgasm I've ever had. I released so much cream on him that he looked down and said, "NOW you can taste...". I sucked his dick til he came and I passed out from lockjaw and pussy pain.

I got the account...and another candidate for a return fuck. Mmmmm. FIVE fucking stars!

{Claude in Savannah. 28yrs old. 8" dick. 5 out of 5 kisses.}


Butterfly Effect said...

So clever how you were able to incorporate your love for cooking in this one. You are truly using all your knowledge in this one big master piece. Where is the book Kiwi? We need you to get on that STAT! I love the way he teased her. I crave for a man to take his time to get me riled up like that. Sending kisses to Claude as well.

Da_Kween said...

Yea, I tried to slide that Epicurean angle in. LOL

Thank you, BE. I don't know about a book. I got ADHD right now. It would be the cover and that's it. lol

1manview said...

Delicious story, now I'm up to speed...

Da_Kween said...

Thank you much! :D



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