NSFW Fiction: Mr. Sweet Potato King

by Hannah B.

[Editor’s Note: This is erotica submitted by a contributor who wishes to remain anonymous. However, I have it good authority that some of what you’re about to read is based on some actual experiences as sprinkled with a little fantasy. Usually my jaw drops when she sends something to us, so that’s about all the warning I can give. I’m also told this will likely become a series. So if you want “more, more, more,” like the old song goes, worry not. “Hannah” is single, dating, and imaginative. I expect it won’t be long before I’m sifting the through e-mails and find the follow up to this story waiting.]

Against my better judgement, I make a date with a dude for 10 p.m. on a Saturday night. I figured I would end up at the bar waiting and then be drunk and bored shitless when he didn’t show up. I know how young guys are about giving up their Saturday nights. Most of them don’t show, and then act like we never had real plans.

Since me being drunk and bored shitless is never a good combination, well, except for the night I got my brains fucked out by my favorite bartender at my favorite bar, I’ve told my girlfriends to expect me at their shindig around 10:30. The hostess makes me promise that if I do get laid, I have to be debriefed at brunch the next afternoon. My sex life is a never ending source of amusement amongst my friends. Their lack of a sex life is a never ending source of bewilderment for me. I mean, who lives with a man 7 days a week and doesn’t get laid??? Most of my friends, that’s who.

Internet “dating” is a lot of work, and can make a person horribly jaded. Part of my routine to avoid being underwhelmed is that I’m always ready early and I stay busy until the appropriate time. I keep my expectations to a minimum, without lowering my standards. I also always have a backup plan with my friends. Unfortunately, this gives them way too many opportunities to give me shit. But I realized a long time ago that it gives me just as many opportunities to be a smug bitch.

So around six, when the rest of world is heading out for an evening of fun, I decide to pick up a few things at the health food store. I’m wearing black yoga pants, a black cami, running shoes and sunglasses. On my way out the door, I put on my favorite Thunder sweatshirt and yank the hood up. It’s misty outside like it’s going to rain and I’m worried that my hair will start to frizz.

When I get to the store, I catch sight of myself in the glass doors and realize that I look like the Unibomber. I pull my hood down, put in my earbuds and crank up my music. I grab one of those small double decker carts and head towards the produce section. All of a sudden, a guy walks past really really fast and then stops right in front of me. I’m aggravated that I nearly hit him and try and angle my cart to pass him. The aisle is so narrow that I can’t get around him, so I reach out and lightly touch his shoulder. “Excuse me,” I mutter as I pull one of my earbuds out.

“Oh…sorry,” he says as he turns to give me room to pass. I’m looking at the floor to keep from running over his feet and I notice that he has beautiful dress shoes on. And his feet are HUGE! Slowly my eyes travel up his legs, which are very long. He’s wearing nice jeans, but it’s his shirt that gets me. It’s a vivid royal purple, as only an Omega Psi Phi can pull off, but it also happens to be my favorite color. I make a mental note that he’s got to be an arrogant branded fuck then I start picking out my apples.

I head down the next aisle and there the guy is again, blocking my way. He’s pulled up his sunglasses and is peering intently at a jar of something and that’s when I notice the rest of him. He has the broadest shoulders that I’ve ever seen in real life and they form the perfect V shape with his narrow hips. And his hair- OMG he has to be that football player! He’s wearing a mohawk, but the bleached part is gone. Even as long as I’ve been living in Soonerville, I sometimes forget that the players are still here when the season ends. And here one is, ruining my quickie-shopping trip with his giant feet and obnoxious hairdo.

I’m vaguely aware that I’m allowing his mere presence to irritate me. I take a deep breath and touch his shoulder to yet again draw his attention. I mean, really? What the hell is wrong with me-I PREFER college football. I LIVE here because of college football. He turns around and I realize that it IS what’s-his-name, and holy shit he’s gorgeous! He barely glances at me, moves so I can get past and then turns to me again, “Can you tell me which coconut oil tastes the best?”

I can sense his frustration, and for some strange reason my irritation has completely vanished. Am I so shallow that I’m excited at the prospect of sexually harassing the poor guy? Yes, yes I am.

“I think the one with the white lid is the best. It’s what I buy.”

It’s then that I realize he’s so tall it almost hurts my neck to look up at him. He grins down at me and I’m blinded by his sexy smile.

“What are you using it for?”

“I’m going to put it on this,” he says, holding up a sweet potato, “I’m starving.”

He is so handsome. Way more handsome than on TV. And bigger too. I stare deeply into his eyes, offering silent thanks to the universe that as a 45-year-old woman I’m entitled to objectify anyone I see fit. Especially some hot dude in the health food store who’s got one sweet potato. Who the fuck buys ONE sweet potato on a Saturday night?!?

“Are you on a scavenger hunt, Sugar?” I ask him as I continue with my blatant eye fucking, “what are you going to do with just one sweet potato?”

In a fluid movement he completely removes his sunglasses to slowly look me up and down. As his gaze travels, my nipples harden and his eyes linger on their way back up. For once in my life I’m so glad I didn’t wear a bra.

“I’m just going to bake it.” He says nonchalantly.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say with moderate concern, “baking sweet potatoes is very dangerous business. I’d sure hate for you to mess up your nice purple shirt.”

He suddenly looks worried and I only feel slightly guilty as I take the sweet potato from his hand. Our eyes meet again at this slight brush of contact, confirming to me that he feels this sensual chemistry too.

“It is?” he asks, “I thought you just put them in the oven for a while.”

Oh, I am having too much fun with this. I can hardly hide my glee. I clear my throat and again try to sound businesslike.

“Well, if you don’t do it properly, they explode,” I tell him, “you have to poke holes in them and your oven has to be a certain temperature. You really should let me take care of this for you. I don’t want you to get hurt, Sugar.”

I try and keep a straight face and fail miserably. I grin up at him and he narrows his eyes at me, realizing that I totally had him.

“Yeah, I’m thinking that I really need for you to bake my sweet potato,” he says through gritted teeth, “in fact, I need to get it into your oven right away. I’ve got to be somewhere soon.”

He grabs my wrist firmly with one hand, my cart with the other, and steers us to the cashier. I suddenly feel my panties get damp at the thought of him between my legs. I certainly like a man that takes control. He refuses to let me pay for my apples, telling the clerk, “Oh no, it’s the least I can do since she’s going to bake my sweet potato for me.” The clerk looks at me with her mouth hanging open. I shrug at her as she quickly bags our items. Goods in hand, he turns and takes me by the wrist again and heads out the door.

Outside he pauses and says, “Which car is yours?” I am so turned on that I can only point. He walks me over and waits as I unlock the doors. When I climb in, he takes my hand and puts it against his cock. I can feel how hard it is…how big it is…he rubs my hand against it slowly as he raises his eyebrow at me expectantly.

“Oh, ummm, I live really close by,” I tell him, “Just follow me.”

He looks menacingly at me and puts my hand on the steering wheel. My hands are shaking and I can hardly get my keys into the ignition. He notices and cracks a bit of a grin at me. I realize that he’s just totally had me and I relax slightly.

“Go turn on your oven,” he says in a gravelly voice, “I will be right behind you.”

I start my car and drive home, with a big smile on my face, this night is starting to shape up nicely. I barely get in my front door before I hear him coming through it like he owns the place. My nipples are throbbing at the thought of being properly fucked. He walks into the kitchen and hands me the bag. I take it from him and nonchalantly toss the sweet potato into the cold oven.He narrows his eyes at me again.

“Oops,” I say innocently.

“I thought that you had to poke holes in it,” he says in his deep sexy voice as he grabs my wrists and turns me against the wall, holding my hands over my head so high that I have to stretch up on my tippy toes. “I thought you had to at least turn on your oven,” he says as he reaches down the front of my panties with his other hand and starts rubbing my clit in circles. “I thought this was dangerous business.”

I feel him grinding his dick against my ass and I’m on the verge of an orgasm as he nibbles on my neck. He peels down my yoga pants and my panties just enough to give himself access. I hear him unzip his jeans and feel him rub his hard cock against me, from my clit all the way up to my ass, up and down, while he continues to hold my hands above my head. I’m trying to inch my way onto his cock, but he won’t let go of me.

Holy hell, this is torture.

“Aaah, that’s just the right temperature,” he says as he slowly slides himself into my pussy, “And it’s tight too. You’re definitely going to get that explosion you were so sweetly warning me about.”

I keep trying to back up onto his cock faster, but he’s controlling the stroke. Finally he let’s go of my hands and grabs me by the hips and slams into me hard. I start to come and he pulls out suddenly, leaving me desperately wanting more.

I open my mouth to voice my displeasure, but I’m cut off before I can utter a word.

“Oh no you don’t!” he says as he turns me around and bends me over my kitchen table, “This is for lying to me about baking sweet potatoes!” He smacks me on the ass hard. “And this is for making fun of my favorite shirt!” He smacks me hard on the ass again and I try not to giggle.

I hear a rustling noise and I assume that he’s getting naked, which makes me very happy. I glance over my shoulder and spy that he’s carefully laying his shirt over the back of the chair. I grin at him. He leans over me and I can feel how naked he is. I take the opportunity to squirm against him.

“Is something funny?” he whispers in my ear. I shake my head no. “I didn’t think so.”

He starts nibbling my neck again and starts working his way down my back. He pulls my yoga pants and my panties all the way down. Damn he’s good. I kick my clothes and my shoes off my feet as I hold onto the far edge of the table for support. He’s on his knees between my legs and he spreads my cheeks and slowly runs his tongue around my around my ass. Again and again…Fuck me…He moves his talented tongue to my pussy. Oh shit..how does he know that I love to be tongue fucked?

I’m grinding myself on him in circles while he slowly fucks me with his velvety soft tongue. Just as I’m on the verge of coming, he stands up and slides his cock into me. I’m so wet, it’s indecent the noises we’re making now. He moves slowly. Back and forth he goes. Alternates between fucking me with his tongue and then with his cock, all the while stopping just as I start to peak. He won’t let me come. Suddenly he flips me over onto my back, never taking his cock out of me…it’s like being on a giant rotisserie. I gaze at him in wonder,thinking how the hell did he just do that? He smiles at me and pulls my cami down, exposing my nipples.

“This is for not wearing a bra,” he mutters in a husky voice as he leans down and starts sucking, then mumbles into my chest that my nipples are fantastic. I’m whimpering at him to fuck me, please, but he won’t budge. There I am, on my back on my own damned kitchen table, immobilized. And it feels so good…but he’s in me and I’m throbbing. I want to move, but he keeps me stationary. I whimper again, “Fuck me…please…”

“Not yet,” he says, “where’s your bedroom?”

I can only point towards the direction of my room. He wraps my legs around his waist and picks me up. I try and bob on his cock, but he only lets me slide up and down just a bit…just enough to make me crazy…just enough to make me think we’re getting somewhere.

Two can play at this game. I put my hands around his neck and pull those sexy lips in for a kiss. I can taste myself on his lips and tongue. He carries me to the bedroom while I suck his tongue, grinding on him as much as he’ll let me. He lays me on the edge of my bed and then pulls out.

“No, no, no!” I’m writhing now, “You can’t!”

He rubs the huge head of his cock against my clit, “Is this what you want?”

I nod frantically at him. He laughs at me, “Or is THIS what you want?” He leans down and runs his pointed tongue around my clit in slow circles, never touching it, making me dizzy. “Your pussy is so sweet,” he says. When I try and hold his head for direction, he grabs my wrists. He continues his oral assault, knowing that he’s in total control. He teasingly slides his finger into me and finally latches onto my clit. I scream in pleasure as my orgasm washes over me. I come again and again as he sucks and fingers me.

In my dazed state I’ve lost track of time and suddenly I feel him trying to unclench my fists..I look down and realize I’ve had both hands entangled in his hair, holding his face jammed up against my pussy.

I laugh a little and release my grip, laying back with my arms overhead. He smiles down at me.

“For a moment I was afraid you were trying to suffocate me,” he says, raising one eyebrow, pretending to ponder his fate, “I guess that wouldn’t be a bad way to go.”

“Yeah, next thing you know, you’ll be begging me to try and kill you every day….ooooooo-h-h-h!” I moan as he slides his dick into me slowly.

“I’m sorry, were you saying something?” He asks as he as picks up the pace a bit, “remember Sexy, you’re the one that’s been doing all the begging.” He puts my legs over his shoulders and starts rubbing my clit in time with his thrusts. I start to come again. It feels so good I can only arch my back and moan as my hips jerk reflexively against him.

“That’s right Baby, keep coming on my cock,” he says as he strokes me, “You’re so fucking sexy when you come.” He’s now ramming his cock into me and I can feel his balls smacking against my ass. I can tell he’s getting close. I look him in the eyes as I pull him down to me for a kiss.

“I want you to come with me,” I say as I clamp down on him. “I’m coming again, hurry!” I can feel his dick start to spasm as I run my tongue around his sexy lips.

“Here comes the explosion,” he growls against my lips as he pulls his cock out of my pussy and empties his load all over my tits. He reaches out and rubs his come into my nipples.

“That is a lovely sight, Baby.”

I’m covered in glistening come, but thankfully it didn’t get in my hair. OH SHIT!

“What time is it?!?” I ask as I scramble out of bed, trying not to let him see my panic. I check my phone nonchalantly, whew! Only 9:30. I’ve still got plenty of time to rinse off, get dressed and get to the bar for my date. I look over at him, laying in my bed like a supermodel. Fuck he’s beautiful, but he’s got to go…now!

“That was amazing, Baby,” he says as he yawns and stretches lazily, “but I’ve gotta go.”

That’s right you do, I think in my head, and you are all kinds of in my way…

“Let me get you a towel, Sugar.” I say sweetly, “the shower is down the hall.”

I think that may have been the best sex I’ve had in a long time. Too bad he’s a fucking football player…and a goddamned Omega to boot! How do I always end up picking these guys? As I walk into the bathroom and see him standing under the water, I remember how I picked him…yes, he is so purrrfectly yummy.

“Here’s your towel, Sugar.”

He opens the shower door and pulls me in with him, “I better wash you,” he says as he lathers me up,”it’s the least I can do.”

I quickly tie my hair up and hide my irritation…this guy is so fucking full of himself…maybe he really thinks he’s doing me a favor. He’s playing with my nipples and I brush his hands away.

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” I ask.

“Yeah, I do, but I could stay here and fuck you all night,” he pulls me tightly against him and I can feel his dick getting hard again as he kisses me, “I don’t want to leave now, it’s just getting good. Give me a reason to change my plans.”

We continue to stand in the shower and make out. He has just the right balance of lips and tongue…he’s such a good kisser, I’m starting to get turned on again. He reaches down and starts stroking himself. “I could cancel my plans and give you more of this,” he says, looking deeply in my eyes, “just say the word and I’m all yours for the rest of the night.” He leans in to kiss me again and I sigh and pull away from him and turn the water off.

“The Jedi Dick Trick doesn’t work on me, Mister,” I say and I’m only halfway lying, “you really should go before you are late.”

He has a slightly incredulous look on his face. I look him up and down, and lightly run my finger over the raised Omega brand on his bicep. I bet no one has ever denied this gorgeous motherfucker anything in his life.

“Are you serious?” he says, “you want me to leave?”

I sigh again, remembering how young he is. Keep it light, I tell myself. I reach down and replace his hand with both of mine. I stroke his cock slowly, gently twisting my hands on the upstroke.

“Sugar. I know this probably hasn’t occurred to you, but I have a previous commitment as well, and I am a woman of my word.” I lean down to kiss the head of his dick and run my tongue lightly around it. “You can try and hypnotize me with your dick some other time.”

I step out of the shower, hand him his towel and watch him dry himself off…man…I could lick him up, too bad it’s nearly ten. He sees me watching him and grins as he sloooowly runs the towel over his cock and balls. He gyrates his hips to make his dick swing like a pendulum and laughs out loud as I follow it with my eyes, pretending to fall under his spell. He walks into the kitchen and gets dressed. I follow him to the front door in just my towel.

“Bye Sexy,” he says as he kisses me, “another time, definitely.”

“Bye Sexier,” I tell him as I close the door. I could watch him walk away, but I have my priorities. I realize that I don’t even know his name.

Time is ticking. I run down the hall to my room and quickly throw on my dress and heels. I apply some light makeup, style my hair, and I’m out the door. At 9:55 p.m. I’m in my car, heading to my favorite bar, telling myself that no one will notice that I’ve just had my brains fucked right outta my head.

At straight up 10pm I walk into the bar and smile at my favorite bartender. “Is he here?” I ask him and take a seat.

“Yeah, I think it’s him. He’s in the walk-in picking out a cigar. I think you might like him….seems like just your type,” says the bartender as he puts a coaster in front of me, “what would you like to drink? And why do you look so happy?”

“Surprise me! And what exactly is my type?1?,” I ask innocently. The bartender narrows his eyes at me suspiciously as he grabs a glass.

“Tall, young and sexy,” he says, flexing his bicep for my enjoyment, “just like me…don’t be coy, I recognize your Freshly Fucked Look.”

“You ought to, Sugar,” I say as I grin up at him as he places a perfect Dirty Martini in front of me with a flourish, “you certainly know what I like.”

“That’s right I do,” he says and flexes again as I giggle, “Don’t look now, but here he comes.” I make a face at him as I slide off my barstool and slide my hands over my ass to smooth my dress. Eh, let him watch, I think to myself as I turn around to greet my date. And then KABLAM! Just like you would imagine KABLAM would feel, I’m staring Mr. Sweet Potato King right in the eyes. I can’t breathe. It’s all I can do to keep my mouth from falling open. He’s looking at me with a smirk.

“Wow, are you SingleandSexy?” he asks as he slowly looks me up and down, “I like your dress, and I love your shoes. You are waaaay better looking in real life than in your pictures.” Ok ok ok I think to myself, I can do this.

“YOU are IrunFast89?” I ask him as I raise an eyebrow at him thinking two can play this game, “you don’t look all that fast.”

To be continued….