On Wednesday, we had a lot of excess carrots at work which should be dumped if I had not taken them. I don’t like to waste food and every now and then I take something home which otherwise would have ended in the dustbin. Some of my colleagues have adapted to that and take stuff with them, too 🙂 Wednesday evening I made a carrot quiche and a sweet-sour carrot salad. John was not enthusiastic about it, but ate it anyway. But there were still carrots left, so yesterday I made a carrot soup with rosmary bread.
When Love came home from work and sat down for dinner, he watched me bewildered. “Carrots again?” I nodded. “Yeah, see, I don’t want to waste them.” “And I don’t to eat them. Is that your idea of an appropriate meal for a hard working man, son?” Ugh. I tried to explain that carrots are healthy and that I added a draught of wine to the soup and then offered to fry a steak, but John still looked at his bowl with disgust. “Undress.” I was confused. “But…” “I said, undress. Now.” He seemed to be really mad, so I did what he told me. “Put that ridiculous limp cock on the table.” I did. He took the trivet, a solid wooden tray, and placed it upon my cock, then set the heavy pot on top. Ugh, that hurt! But I was glad the heat that came through was bearable. He came to my side and squeezed my balls firmly. “I will go out to have dinner. You’ll stay here and enjoy your soup”. I swallowed. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir, I-“. “Shut up, boy. I’m not in the mood to listen to your babble.” He went to the fridge and took out another carrot, added some oil and placed it into me. Ugh, that was cold! Then he went out of the kitchen, shortly afterwards returned with his shoes and jacket on. “Start rubbing you nipples.” “Uhm…yes, Sir”. “Any complaints? D’you want me to open the window? Or so?” “Uhm, no, Sir, thank you, Sir”. He left without another word.
To put it short, it was very uncomfortable. John stayed away a bit longer than one and a half hour. I am used to stand straight because he often makes me do so, but the heavy trivet with the pot on it began to hurt, my nipples were quickly very sensitive and when I got a stiffy, my situation did not improve. I had to arrange the trivet new for three times, because I feared it would fall down. And althought I had the radiator running, it grew uncomfortably cold. After a while I got a bit sick of smelling the soup all the time, but I went on rubbing my nipples. Being able to look at the kitchen clock all the time did not help. Thankfully the carrot inside of me had quickly become warm.
When John returned, I was a mess. I was cold, hungry, exhausted and horny. He took his time to change, then entered the kitchen and sat down beside me, watching me without saying a word. “Uhm, Sir, I hope you had a nice meal?”. He smiled. “I had, but that was not your merit”. “I am sorry, Sir.” “You should be.” “I am.” I was still rubbing my nipples with my ankles hurting a bit. “I have allowed you to be a vegetarian.” “Yes, Sir.” “I am not and I don’t want to be”. “No, Sir.” “I won’t accept it if you try to make me one.” “I know, Sir, I’m sorry”. Again he watched me. “Did you enjoy your carrots?” I blushed. “A bit, Sir, thank you”. He came behind me and moved the carrot. I groaned with lust. I could feel the warmth of his body and his breath on my skin. “It would be reasonable if I did not fuck you now”, he whispered into my ear, “but thinking of my naked son standing here, I was horny all the time”. He removed the carrot and put in in the dustbin, then I could feel his hard cock inside of me. It’s always pain and lust to welcome him, like caring for a wound that’s always been there. The soup was spilled while he pounded me, but he did not care. It didn’t take long to get me there. “May I cum, please?” “You may”. Oh, what a long awaited pleasure! It was weird to cum with the tray still on my cock, but it was intense. Love came to my side and skeeted into the residual soup in the pot.
After we both had calmed down a bit, he said: “Clean yourself and the kitchen, get dressed and then eat your soup”. I did as he told me and he corrected me when I wanted to warm the soup again. I was supposed to eat it cold and with his cum. Of course. The lesson I learned: there won’t be carrots again this months and I cannot save every single carrot from the dustbin…