It's Hot In Here

Photo Copyright: The Author

Sarah’s lucky day goes from hot to blazing when her knight with a shining spatula appears.

This ones for erinnbjorn - well, you did say you wanted a fireman to put out the flames. Check out Erinn’s Kink Korner and Erinn Entwined

It is hot. One of those days when you open the doors and windows early in the morning and warm air just floods in. The idea of wearing clothes seems pointless, but since I am deep-frying some comfort food, I have wrapped an apron around me.

Fortunately, or possibly unfortunately, there is no one else about to admire the way my boobs swell out sexily from apron’s top or my bum on display at the back. It has been a while since a man saw me dressed like this. It has been a while since… The toys are nice, they do the job but I do like the feel of a palm, or something harder, smacking against my behind. It adds a certain frisson to the experience.

There is a whoomf sound as the oil bursts into flames. Oh shit, I’ve let it get too hot whilst I’ve been standing there daydreaming. I grab a jug, rush to the sink, and fill it from the tap.

“Stop,” a voice shouts from the open door.

These is a man there, tall, blonde haired, muscular. Must be my lucky day - well, if you don’t count the fact that there’s a blaze in my kitchen. He moves quickly to the sink, grabbing a towel on the way. For some reason, he is only wearing blue boxer shorts and a casual jacket.

As he wets the towel under the tap I see FIRE is written across the back of his jacket. He drops the wet towel neatly over the burning pan and turns to face me. “No harm done,” he says. He looks down at the open jacket and the boxers. “Sorry, I was just doing some exercises next door, when I saw the smoke.”

“You’re a fireman,” I say, sounding like a dumb blonde.

He twists around slightly as if to look at the back of the jacket. “How did you guess?” Still smiling, he glances at the pan. “You really should have a fire blanket installed for kitchen fires. If you chuck water on them it can send stuff all over the place and set the whole kitchen on fire. He looks back at the jug I am holding.

“Yes, Sir. Reprimand accepted. Do I bend over for the spanking now?” Oh shit, sometimes my brain just connects to my mouth and says what I am thinking without letting me edit it.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m hot.” I’m just making this worse aren’t I. “I mean, it’s hot,” I stammer.

“I’d agree with both statements,” he grins.

I notice a small patch of pink skin showing through the opening in the front of his boxers. And is that a growing bulge in them?

“Do you like the idea of spanking a woman?” Oh shut up, Sarah; my mouth is bypassing the edit mode again.

“Only when they’re naughty.” His grin is widening and I’m sure that bulge is growing.

“Does nearly setting my kitchen on fire count?” I ask.

We are both looking at each other, assessing what to say next. It is as if we have pushed a boulder to the top of a hill. One more shove and it will roll down the other side or we can leave it there, poised at the peak, and just walk away, wondering what might have happened.

Something in my head clicks. I turn around and reach up to open a cupboard. I’ve no idea what I am looking for; at this point I have forgotten what is in it, but I know it is giving him a spectacular view of my naked behind. Now I know it’s not tight and cute like those girls in their twenties at the pool; it’s full and wide, firm enough to look good but soft enough to ripple enticingly when needed.

He takes the cue. Hands are caressing my back, sweeping down to clasp at my cheeks. Something hard and solid seems to have escaped from his boxer shorts and is pressing against me. I feel his palm pressing on my back between my shoulder blades. Obediently, I bend forward over the worktop.

The first slap is quite tentative but still sends tingles through me. Another two land on alternating cheeks. I cannot resist a snigger - this fireman is lighting a fire inside me.

He stops. “What?”

“Harder.”

Oh fuck. Now electric shocks are shooting through me. The sounds of cracks are echoing around my kitchen. “Ah,” I gasp as a stinging blow lands. I can feel my bum cheeks flexing, flowing out under his hand.

He pauses again.

“Spatula - cooker,” I pant.

I sense him move and then he is back. Lightning arcs across my bottom. “Oh fuck,” this time the words pour from my mouth. I feel him stand back, unsure. “Fire safety has never been this much fun,” I moan. “Teach me some more.”

He takes the hint. The wide beech blade of the spatula is hissing through the air as it descends. The crack it makes on each contact sounds as if the hot weather has finally sparked lightning in the air. My screeches are higher pitched than the accompanying thunder would be.

My whole body is tingling, each smack sends another jolt through me. I feel like a battery charged beyond its capacity. I’m hot, leaking honey between my legs. My skin is tight, as if I am expanding inside, boiling with expectation, ready to explode.

Something is pressing against the burning cheeks of my behind. I can feel a solid column of flesh sliding along my pussy, spreading my lips, becoming slippery with my want. I wriggle, he pulls back, the pressure on my bum eases. His cock slides into me, his thighs and stomach begin slapping against me.

I am thrown into the air, swirling in space, cast into a void. Nothing is touching me apart from that glorious shaft inside me and his body slamming against mine. I’m sinking, someone is screaming, no, howling like a wolf greeting the moon. I realise it is me.

Now I am being pushed down against something solid, it is squashing my tits, pressing my hard nipples into my flesh. Just as I regain the sense that I am bent over the worktop, I am blown back into the darkness of the void.

Something is pumping into me. Hands are gripping my hips, pulling me onto the flesh that is penetrating me. I land, squashing back down onto the solid world, limp and exhausted. He leaves me impaled for a while, feeling the fading pulses of me around his cock.

I push up from the worktop, wobbling as if turned to jelly. Somehow I manage to turn around and kiss him. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Sam,” he says.

“You’re joking,” I bring my hand up to my mouth, trying to stifle a giggle. “You mean I’ve just been fucked by fireman…”

He waves the spatula under my nose. “No jokes, otherwise you’ll get more of this.”

“Ooo, yes please.”

Whilst we’re in the kitchen