Beef Stew And Bread Bowls 01

Beef stew & bread bowls 01

Hello, I'm Stewart, um, Stu, if you don't mind and my story starts just a few weekends ago when the basketball madness that is March said goodbye to the Sweet 16, what's up to the Elite 8 and welcome to the final 4 for both, the men's teams and the women's teams.

And I'll be the first to admit that I may or may not had preplanned that Saturday afternoon as a game watch day at my friend's aunties house, but I had a couple of good reasons. One, Gill Jr.'s auntie lived on my street and two, OMG, Mrs. Gilbert had the living room set up and three, um, food, guaranteed food. I mean, I'm 21 and the process goes sleep, watch sports and food, right?

Anyways, let me start with Mrs. Gilbert's comfy ass living room. I mean, is there really a wall behind her super-sized and very modern flat screen, huh? I mean, you don't see a wall, but it must be there. And don't even get me started on the matching super-sized microfiber sectional couch thingamabob thingy. I mean, is it a couch or is it a play den or is it a big U-shaped bed, right? I mean, several people could doze off on it and never interfere with each other. Oh, and I may not quite know what microfiber is, but I'm pretty sure it's defined a comfy. And almost best of all, Gill Jr. & myself, only had to sign a single sentence avadavat stating that it's 'shoes off at all times, punishable by no free meals', but that's okay since no matter what, Mrs. Gilbert always has something cooking in the kitchen.

So, onto the Saturday afternoon double header of college female games, right? Or in other words, let me introduce my friend, Gill Jr. He was really going to enjoy the double header of games, especially the second game because Gill Jr. absolutely loves how the female players are built and he's not wrong about that, like he's wrong about literally everything else, but imagine his delight when his favorite female players are running up and down the court with their bouncing ponytails on a super-sized flat screen, right?

I mean, of course, for me, it's all about the play making and the outcomes of the games and I wouldn't even have ever noticed that most of the female players sprout such bouncy ponytails, including a few of them who wear false eyelashes and all, because that's not why I watch the games [ducts head to the left in case of a lightning bolt strike].

So, not having been struck dead by lightning, yet, and with Gill Jr.'s unattainable girlfriend coming up in the second game of the double header, he was comfortably positioned on the left side of the heavenly sectional as I stretched out on the right side (ahh), in our stocking feet, of course, and as they say, let the games begin.

(Chuckles) after these umpteen TV commercials and 45 minutes of 'sports experts' ramblings on and on and on in between the double header games and OMG, tip-off the ball already!

"Stu, just for the record, even everybody already knows it, you're going to be my best man when I marry that #5 girl from UConn and air pressure pump her basketball every night with my high-power air pump, end of story, so?"

"Well, dang it, Gill Jr., I mean, I'm happy to hear that you're going to use your, LOL, your high-power, high-pressure air pump with something or someone other than with your right hand, but you're at least going to do the right thing and divorce your right hand first, I mean, divorce that feisty blonde girl from TCU first?"

"Well, dang it, Stu, now I'm going to have to whisk them both away to Idaho and live happily ever after with my two basketball wives and my high-pressure, ump, ump, ump, air pump, so?"

"Well, Gill Jr., I think you mean whisk them away to Utah, but don't officially announce to your parents that you're moving out until your brood of basketball wives have an actual chance to experience your high-pressure air pump in action because I've heard that modern women these days like actual sex instead of what you call having sex behind your closed bedroom door because..."

"[Ding, Gill Jr. gets a text] aww, dang it, again, Stu, my dad just texted me and said that he needs me to pick him up from the Transmission Shop because my uncle Jerry doesn't want to leave just yet, so, you should..."

"[Makes space wars hands motions] I'm not the droid that you're looking for, woo-woo, to pick up your dad from the Transmission Shop, woo-woo, especially since I'm an honored house guest and so comfy on the sectional couch, woo-woo [reverses space wars hands motions], so?"

"[Spinning eyes] I'll be back, Stu, but don't you dare check out my woman's bouncing ponytail and basketball booty because I called it, end of story!"

"[Makes space wars hands motions] young whippersnapper has much to learn, woo-woo, about how long these announcers ramble on and on in between games, woo-woo, you have plenty of time before you happy fap over your totally unattainable basketball player, woo-woo [reverses space wars hands motions] girlfriend, so?"

"[Spinning eyes] you know, Stu, for my best man, you are kind of a butthead! Anyways, the joke is on you because my aunties house will be crawling with cooking womenfolk soon enough!"

(Chuckles) womenfolk, huh? I couldn't wait to hear the dinnertime conversations at Gill Jr.'s log cabin in the hills of Utah (chuckles).

Well, he left anyways. And I was left as comfy as comfy can be on the sectional and with a fully charged phone battery and a perfect view of Mrs. Gilbert in the kitchen if I peeked over the rear corner cushions.

[Peel, peel, peel, chop, chop, chop]

"[Ping, outgoing text] what cha doing, Mrs. Gilbert?"

"[Whoop, a reply] peeling & chopping carrots for my bread bowl beef stew, Stu! Who is winning?"

"[Ping, a reply back] from what I can see from here, Mrs. Gilbert, your hubby is winning! Lift the rear of your dress and let me peek at what Mr. Gilbert's carrot tears up 2 or 3 times a week???"

"[Whoop, a stern reply] hah! His carrot wilted limp long ago, Stu! Watch the game, not my ass! I mean, wrong number."

[With just a quick hint of a dress flip up]

"[Ping, it's on now] put a whole carrot in your mouth, Mrs. Gilbert and turn around???"

"[Whoop, where is this going reply] Stu! I will not put your carrot, I mean, a carrot in my mouth!"

"[Ping, what game reply] and then rub it through your camel toe, Mrs. Gilbert, do it!"

"[Whoop, WTF reply] Stu! That's another thing that I will not do! It's a carrot, not a dildo that I may or may not have hidden in my nightstand! I mean, wrong number."

"[Ping, game on] and then wiggle waggle point the wet carrot at me and make me pass out, Mrs. G, do it while we're alone in the house."

"[Whoop, a you're dead, young man reply] OMG Stu! That's four things that I will not do! Behave yourself and watch the game! The other womenfolk will be here soon enough and we might get caught, so, behave! I mean, wrong number."

Well, Gill Jr. just left to pick up Gill Sr. and nobody was pulling up into the driveway yet and if there is nobody there to catch you, then you can't get caught, right?

"[Ping, a behaved text] turn sideways, Mrs. G and let me watch how you hand smash the potatoes with your hand smasher pumping tool thingy, okay???"

"[Weep, a reply] hah! A proper beef Stew uses diced potatoes, Stu, no hand job smashing required! I mean, wrong number."

"[Ping, keep it going] meet me in the bathroom and demo it on my spud anyways, Mrs. Gilbert???"

"[Weep, a reply] hah! Hand pump smashing your fat spud would be like #7 on my list since I haven't had sex in nine years! I mean, wrong number."

"[Ping, just can't stop now] what's #5 on your list for me, Mrs. G, since that's the jersey number your future DIL wears, huh?"

"[Weep, a thoughtful reply] same as #2, but your slippery carrot slips out of my mouth and facial blasts me or maybe on my bare tits! I mean, wrong number."

"[Ping, it's a math problem reply] so, what number is it when I take you over the sink while you are cube cutting the beef for the stew, huh, Mrs. G?"

"[Weep, an OMG reply] that would be quick fuck #1, Stu, if I didn't expect Millie soon! I mean, wrong number."

"[From the TV] fans, we'll have you watching the second game viewers, just as soon as we allow these ex-pro commentators to ramble on for another 20 minutes..."

"[Ping, there's plenty of time] I'm coming into the kitchen right now, Mrs. G, so?"

"[Weep, a hah reply] I don't think so, Stu! Sex is thighs messy and I can't smell like sex when Millie and Wanda show up, so, stay put on the couch, Stu! I mean, wrong number."

Oh, before I forget, folks, I learned last year that stew bread bowls start out as big bread balls and then they are carved and hallowed out to make, ta da, bread bowls.

"[Ping, uh-huh] while Millie is busy hallowing out the bread bowls, Mrs. Gilbert, maybe there will be just enough time for your cheeks to get hallowed out while we're in the laundry room???"

"[Weep, OMFG] men! They always want a facial cheek hallowing blow job before they trash a pussy over the washing machine! I mean, wrong number."

Well, well, well, right? It sounded to me like I was winning and I hadn't even gotten around to texting something about popping her tits out for me yet and...

"[Weep, you're not winning] turn around quick, Stu!"

Oh, a real well, well, well moment then as Mrs. Gilbert stood there in the kitchen facing me while she worked a peeled carrot in and out between her puckered tight lips with her undies dangling from her free finger and her boobs out! Well, well, well then, right? That's a win if I ever heard one. Or saw one, I guess.

"[Ping, this is happening] drop your apron and bend over the washer in the laundry room, Mrs. G, do it now before the other womenfolk arrive and I promise just 10 thrusts!"

"[Weep, hmm] would (giggling emojis) you even last for ten quick dips in my pressure cooker? I mean, wrong number."

I mean, again, well, well, well, right? That was a challenge if I ever heard one. And as comfy on the couch as I was, I couldn't help but to jump up and follow Mrs. Gilbert into the laundry room, which she wiggled waggled towards as she untied her cooking apron, which is where I found her, OMG, leaning up against the washing machine!

"Well, Stu, I just said that sex was messy and I can't afford to carry your seed on my thighs, so, you can have my mouth until we have a more private situation because..."

Hah! And before you judge me, spinning her around and lifting her dress didn't take much effort. But I'm a man of my word and I said 10 pounding slams and no more, so, that was that. Except for, well, geometry was a better subject for me than math was.

"[Hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam] 1, [hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam] 2, [hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam] 3, grip the washer with both hands, Mrs. G, [hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam] 4, [hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam, slip, slide, bang] 5..."

"[Tightens her grip on the washer] then grip my hips harder, Stu and make me whimper!"

"[Hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam] 6, [hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam, boom] 7, [hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam] 8, push back hard, Mrs. G, [hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam pow] 9, [hump, thrust, pump, thump, slam, bam, grind, push, oh, oh, um, oh, oh] 10..."

"(Aha, aha, aha) it's okay, Stu, let it blow because I got this, just how you just gave it to me!"

By the way, it may seem like I maxed out at 10 thrusts, but each of my pumping thrusts was six thumps each because as I said, geometry was my thing, not counting. But, whoa, I'm not glossing over how quickly Mrs. Gilbert spun back around and wrapped a towel around my goo spewing dick, I mean, for a woman who hadn't have sex in nine years, I mean, that was quick.

"Hmm, spew it Stu, fill my towel with your man seed."

"[Spew, spew, spew, squirt, blast, squirt, spew, ahh] there's a little more, Mrs. G, swallow it!"

Huh! That was a quick slick move too!

"Only because I like how you count, Stu because that was at least 50, OMG, 50 thrusts of sex, sex, sex, sex in my pussy sex [drops to knees, engulfs, slurp, swallow, gulp, gulp, whoa, slurp, swallow, gulp, gulp, swallow, sheesh, gulp...]"

[Oops, they weren't alone anymore as the front door crashes open]

"Yoo-hoo, it's me, Millie with the bread balls [looks around and drops the large brown handled bag of bread bowls on the kitchen counter] hello? Ginny? [Soft shoe shuffles towards the sounds of rustling clothing in the laundry room] oh, well, well, well, what do we have here, hmm? Ginny Gilbert with a huge smile on her face, even though she's busy trying to tuck her tits back inside of her dress and a spent and wheezing eligible bachelor from down the street with a dick just went limp, even though it's still oozing and drizzling his gooey man gravy, mm-hmm!"

"[Startled and gulping] oh, I mean, Millie, I mean, I mean [swallows], I mean..."

"(Giggles) that's alright, Ginny, we ladies of a certain age need to take the dick when it's available and I'm not judging! I mean, I might be asking your permission to lick up his remains, but other than that, I'll just keep myself busy hallowing out the balls of bread into stew bread bowls in the kitchen, mm-hmm!"

LOL, like Mrs. Gilbert even had a chance to answer her permission request before Millie from the Deli was on her knees in front of me and had my bread balls in her massaging hands to milk it all out.

End beef stew & bread bowls 01