I pressed my face into his chest. He held me with one arm as he distractedly pushed crispy potatoes around. I peered at his stubbled cheek, planted a kiss on it. He was swelling in my palm. Turning to the frying pan, I looked at the jar of coconut oil on the counter. I grinned and reached for it, scooping a small bit with a clean spoon I had grabbed slyly on my way in. I gripped his cock firmly and pulled his waistband down.

“Good Mooorrrning, Baby,” He said as he exhaled. I slid the coconut oil over his now rock hard cock.

“Good Morning to you lover,” and I proceeded to jack him off.

Not fast, not hard, just firm and steady. He leaned his head back and moaned.

“Let me have some,” I said.

“Please,” he replied. He pushed his pants farther down and angled his hips towards me. Still cooking, he reached for a bowl and whisked the golden yellow liquid in it. I kissed the tip of his dick, flicked it with my tongue. The coconut oil was smooth and slick and his erection was glorious. I slid him in my mouth as deep as it could go, touching my nose to his belly and gagging.

“Baby,” he said as he peeked into the oven at the sheet pan of bacon. “Do you want me or breakfast?”

“Can’t a girl have both? Why must I choose?” I answered.

He grunted and pulled away from my grasp. Swiftly pulling two plates out of the cupboard, he sat them down and reached for me. Helping me to my feet he was suddenly all business. My chef, my lover. Watching him plate a meal was as much foreplay for me as a lap dance is for him. Home fries, toast, bacon, poached eggs, and finally hollandaise sauce.

“Sit.” he commanded. I obeyed. I’m a good girl for my lover. He set my plate in front of me. He didn't sit. He stood beside me, raging hard on floating beside my face. Is this my dream come true? Eggs Benedict and getting dicked.

“Here,” he said softly, “Spread your legs,” I did. My robe had fallen open. He reached for my soaking wet pussy and slipped two fingers in.

“Oh, so wet,” he moaned, pulling his hand out of me. I moaned back at him. I didn't want him to stop. He could play my pussy like a musical instrument.

“It's okay, I have a plan,” he said and laughed.

I looked up at him, hard dick, tattooed belly, scarred chest and muscular arms. A plan? My man, so sexy. Suddenly I became aware he was holding a pot and ladle. His rigid organ in front of my face faded out of focus as the pot and ladle came clear in my vision. I giggled. I hoped I knew what was next, and I was right. He drizzled hollandaise over his dick like ribbons of gold. I squealed. I love hollandaise so much, too much, and he knows me so well. (Being a Mother Sauce it could be connected to my Mommy Issues, but that is a story for another book.)

While the thrill of dripping hot liquids on your lover can be risky, hollandaise is safely just ‘warm.’ Some may even consider it similar to cum in consistency and temperature.

“There's your breakfast sausage baby, eat me up,” he laughed, and the sparkle in his eyes with the grin on his face was pure delight.

“Eggs Bene-dick.”

I licked slowly, small, tiny, savouring licks. Whenever I gulp his balls during Sex, I love the saltiness of his sweat. This was delightfully similar. Salty, rich, velvety thick. I licked that cock clean as a whistle. He kept trying to shove it down my throat, but I made him wait. I wanted that sauce before he got his.

The excess dripped down to my thighs, splattering me with warm velvety drops. His cock shining and clean, he kneeled before me and set the pot on the table. One at a time, he licked the droplets of hollandaise of my thighs.

(This is from chapter 1 of my fifth self published book. My first cooking erotica though! I do hope you enjoyed this little snippet!)

https://www.amazon.com/FOOD-SEX-Pairing-Cooking-Desire/dp/B0D7NCQT12