You know how it is in dreams. How you aren’t always yourself.
Well, last night I was Gordon Ramsay.
I was about to give the Kitchen Nightmares treatment to a lady chef. I already had my shirt off as I strode into her large kitchen, resplendent with metres and metres of sparkling aluminium surfaces. There she was washing vegetables at the sink. All she was wearing was an apron. And she had the most gorgeous arse I’d ever seen, round and pert and gloriously pink. She had the figure of a fifties sex goddess, from her broad shoulders to her womanly hips and fleshy legs which tapered down to exquisitely well-turned ankles. She slowly turned to face me.
It was Nigella Lawson.
“I’ve been dying to poke around your pantry, Nigella,” I told her.
“You think you’re such a rogue, don’t you Gordon?” she scolded me playfully, a naughty twinkle in her eye. “But you’re really just a boorish brute. Jamie is much nicer. And cuter. Even if I can really spank his bottom when it comes to cooking.”
“What are you trying to make?” I asked, shaking my head as I came over to examine the contents of the sink, and, at the same time, shamelessly fondle Nigella’s nude bottom.
“I’m making a tomato surprise,” she explained.
“I don’t see any tomatoes there,” I pointed out.
“It doesn’t have any,” she said. “That’s the surprise.”
“What’s the main dish?” I wanted to know.
“This is,” she replied. “We’re serving a vegetarian meal.”
“Fuck me!” I cursed. “Why would you want to do that?”
“It’s healthy,” she maintained.
“Nothing wrong with the good old fashioned English meat and two veg!” I cried.
“Gordon! Gordon! Gordon!” she sighed, shaking her head.
“Here’s one I prepared earlier,” I told her, pulling down my chef’s pants and waving my stiff cock and balls in her general direction.
“Unimaginative,” she declared, raising an eyebrow as she stared at my cock. Then she gathered a droplet of pre-cum off the tip with her finger and placed it between her succulent lips. “But boldly delicious none the less.”
The next thing I knew the kitchen staff arrived from out of nowhere. Twenty female cooking students between the ages of 18 and 25 of all different body types and hair colours, and all stark naked. They weren’t even wearing aprons any more, and neither was Nigella. This was a dream. None of us were going to get burned by hot fat.
They were all doing a great job of preparing a gourmet meal, but I was Gordon Ramsay, and this was Kitchen Nightmares, so I just pretended they were incompetent, because it was more fun that way.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!” I cried. “You call that chopping parsley!” The cute pink-cheeked little butter ball was actually doing an awesome job, but I wanted to tell her off and spank her big bottom. And that is just what I did.
They all knew I was just pretending. And they were determined to have fun at my expense as well.
“Now to slice up some salami for the pizza!” cried a skinny freckly redhead, grabbing my cock in one hand and a huge butcher knife in the other.
“Hey!” cried Nigella, rescuing me. “This is a vegetarian dish remember?”
“Oh, dear!” cried a short bespectacled brunette. “I’ve made a mess!”
She had spilled a creamy cheese sauce all down the front of her.
“I’ll help you with that!” I cried, sinking to my knees and enthusiastically licking the delicious thick liquid off of her erect clit.
“Here comes more!” she cried, picking up the saucepan and deliberately pouring it all over her nipples and belly and my own head. The next thing I knew there were wet tongues lapping at my back as the sauce ran down towards my arse.
“How’s this?” asked Nigella, walking up and deliberately sprinkling a herb and spice mix over her pussy. “I’m not sure if I’ve got the mix quite right?”
Soon all the girls were getting me to taste stuff off of their stiff clits.
“I’m getting a stiff back here,” I complained. “Let’s do things a little differently. I’m not the only one with taste buds you know.”
So from that point on all of the tasting was done by the girls, off of the end of my erect cock. Those lasses were a lovely lot of lickers. And, this being a dream, I came and came and came, filling all of their mouths with my own special recipe sauce for afters.
The weirdest bit of the dream was when whipped cream started shooting out of the end of my cock and the girls took turns to use me to decorate cakes.
Finally the meal was prepared and we all sat down to eat it.
By this time Nigella had been hitting the cooking sherry and was happily plastered.
“We don’t have glasses,” she pointed out. “So everyone will have to drink wine out of my cunt.”
“A red, I think, with this meal,” I suggested.
“I don’t care, as long as it’s bubbly,” she slurred. “I love the feel of bubbles up my boo boo.”
So she stood on her head with her legs spread while I poured a sparkling red up to the brim of her cunt.
“Ooooooh, it tickles!” she cried. And we all lined up to drink the fizzy liquid and give her clit a friendly flick with our tongues.
Of course it all ended in a food fight. And we had to lick all of the food off of each others bodies.
Just as I was laying back feeling tongues lapping at my face and nipples and fingers and balls and cock and toes and…. everything, there was a loud knock a the door.
“We heard that there was a major culinary event underway, so we thought we’d drop in,” explained a gruff voice.
It was the Hairy Bikers. Thank goodness at that moment I woke up.