And then he kissed me…

Guido has accused me of all sorts over the years but what he suggested last night in bed was definitely a first.

“I’ve been reading your blog,” he said tucked under the blanket, “and frankly there’s a lot of detail about us having sex but, hey, where’s all the romance? Where’s the passion?” he said flicking off the lamp.

Where indeed Guido, I felt like asking. What did he want us to start doing, live out our lives like tacky caricatures in a Mills and Boon or a Harlequin novel?

                              *                              *                             *  

Jean-Paul stumbled, dazed, into the kitchen. His head was still spinning from last night’s impromptu and unbridled passion. Guido was standing erect before him, his robe loosely tied around his hips. The pale morning light accentuated both his muscular physique and biceps which had pinned him down to the mattress in the darkness only hours before. Jean-Paul’s heart fluttered excitedly – had it all been some fantastical dream? No, every thrust had been real! He should have felt drained but instead was consumed by a tsunami of exhilaration.The kind achieved only from hours of endless love making. Guido’s sexual drive had made it a night Jean-Paul would never forget.

Guido pulled his robe apart and Jean-Paul momentarily caught a fleeting glipse of his raging manhood again. 

“You should rest,” Guido purred, “to regain strength,” then he paused, his eyes scorching though Jean-Paul’s inadequate defences, “so that we can finish what our bodies began last night.”

Jean-Paul quivered at the thought. There’s only so much savagery one man could take. This hunk was an untameable animal. Hungry with a wild sexual lust which pushed Jean-Paul to the boundaries of human pleasure.

“I want you now,” Guido said, his eyes smouldering with insatiable intensity.  It was like watching the incandescent flicker of a flame which would not be extinguished. “I want you more now than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life before.”

He pulled Jean-Paul closer.  His strong hands holding him like a vice. So close that with those words their lips almost touched. His passion was undeniable and unstoppable. Jean-Paul could smell his musky scent. An intoxicating cocktail he wanted to fill his lungs with and hold in his breath forever.  

“But…,” Jean-Paul started to stutter, almost finding it too impossible to find the words, “…but, you’re a chef. You’ve got mouths to feed out there.”  It seemed futile. Guido pushed him against the coffee machine. It wasn’t the only thing bursting to let off pent up steam.

“No,” said Guido masterfully, “After making love to you I’ve realised there’s more to my life than just stuffing a zucchini.”

“We can’t go on like this…” Jean-Paul tried vainly to protest but in reality he knew they wanted the same thing. It was too late for breathless words.  Guido lifted him onto his chopping board and thrust his legs apart.  Jean-Paul saw an undeniable throb of emotion advancing towards him and gasped in anticipation.  He felt like his own loins were about to spontaneously combust. “Take me,” he moaned orgasmically, “take me!”

                        *                                 *                               *

“How come my manhood only gets to throb but your loins spontaneously combust?” Guido asked me in the morning. “Just asking.”  

“Well if you want to combust then you’ll have to start writing your own blog,” I sniffed, “Just saying.”

Honestly some people are never satisfied.


29 thoughts on “And then he kissed me…

  1. For crying out loud. He gets a series of paragraphs of romance and still finds it in him to complain, lol. Yup, some people are never satisfied 😛 literally!
    I have not read a mills and boon or a Harlequin in ages but your mock description seems to sit right with my memories of over 20 years ago 😀
    This was perfectly spiced humour 🙂


  2. So hypothetically speaking: If you were to take charge, blindfolding and then tying Guido to the bed, then commencing to drizzle warm chocolate syrup all over his cracks and crevices, his nipples, his private parts, adding dollops of whipped cream here and there along with a strategically placed cherry or two – then sensuously and lovingly licking it all off of him as he writhes and moans on the bed before you finally impale yourself on him and bring him to an earth shattering climax.

    Would Guido be focused on recuperating from the experience you gave him, or would he be fixated over being sticky and having messed up sheets that needed to be changed???


  3. oh my at my great age I do not know if I can continue reading such combustible posts. Whatever happened to ”No sex for us were British”. Poor Guido, there is he is living in frigid Albion far from Sunny Spain. I think you should move to Granada, with Los Reyes Catolicos.


    • Are you kidding me? You’re only as old as the men you feel (though I have absolutely no idea how old Will actually is). And any way don’t be fooled, these Latino guys play to the gallery. I’m used to it.


      • You should read my next post as my Birthday is near. I do not feel old, I jest. But I do feel for poor Guido who is the creator in the kitchen, I hope you are is Dulcinea.


  4. I think you ought to write a series of short stories – perhaps a tad above the usual Mills and Boon type stuff, not that I’ve ever read any, at least not to my knowledge. I’d probably have to be gagged and bound before I’d feast my eyes on that stuff; I know it would be torture and so humiliating. Anyway, yes, what was the question?


      • Yes please do. I will be hiding in cupboards just to read. When I say that, I mean that I will pretend I’m hard at work but really, I’ll be lusting after your words and imagining Guido with nothing but a smile and a spatula.


  5. I went right from Nancy Drew to Harlequin. Totally warped my perception of love and sex but that’s another story. Suffice to say, your story is miles funnier. I will never look at a zucchini the same way again. 🙂


  6. I used to write press releases for my agency and when I would get stuck (which happened almost every time) I would insert the phrase “my lips burned with the lash of his kisses” and go on and finish the release and then go back and replace that with whatever bullshit I had come up with by then. Until the day I retired I was haunted by the fear that someday I would forget to take out the filler and send out some release that my office of the Small Business Administration burned with the lash, etc., etc…. Amazingly, I never did.


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