Ten Ways Matt Lost His Virginity : The Chef
WAIT! Before you go on:
That's it, the story shall now resume. . .
Days later I found myself verbally abused by Dom, who was being a dick as always. He couldn't get over fact that a cucumber stole my sweet, sweet virginity.
"You idiot! What were you thinking shoving that thing up your arse?! YOU should be doing the fucking! Wait, what am I saying? All the girls probably laughed at you when your underwear came off."
"At least mine is functional, which is more than you can say."
"Fuck you. Just fuck you. Just because I can't get an erection doesn't mean I'm not a man; I'm. . .I'm just waiting until I get married. . ."
That was the single biggest & steamiest load of bollocks I'd ever heard. I'd known him all my life (4 years) and I can't remember a single time in which he wasn't thinking about sex. Not even one. Which reminds me of how excited he'd been after reading about goat testicle transplants.
"Matt. Matt! Hey, Matt!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! DON'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING TO CHANGE THE STRING ON MY GUITAR?!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, it says here that goat balls help you get a boner."
Now THAT was worthy of my attention. I took the strong out of my mouth and stared at him in disbelief. When I saw the pathetic face he made, I laughed. He looked constipated.
"You know what? I don't need you!! All I need is your fucking ball sack!"
"Wait, so you DID want a ball transplant, just not from a goat. I have to say, I'm flattered. I know-but why the hell are you salivating? You're not planning to eat them are you?"
"Why yes, I'd love to eat your testicles-Of COURSE NOT YOU WAD OF SHIT! I'm going to cut off your balls so you'll stop wanking to Michael Jackson! Do you KNOW how hard it is to try sleeping at 2 A.M. with you screaming next door?!"
I HAD been wanking off at 2 A.M., but to be fair, my mum blocked all the porn channels, leaving me to choose between The Life of Birds and celebrity gossip, which almost always included Michael Jackson. Sorry, I don't do animals. That's just sick. I would, however, go for Attenborough himself, but alas, he does not manifest himself physically in the series. Although his voice was very soothing. . .
"How about this for a concept: DON'T WANK TO ANYTHING! I don't."
"Yeah, but yours is not a matter of choice. If you could, you'd probably be locked up for being a sick pervert."
And I was sure of it. There used to be an old geezer living next door to Dom a few years back. He tried to lure us into his house as we walked home from school with candy. We never went in because we'd seen how he'd walk around naked in his backyard twisting his nipples a full 360̊ when he thought no one was looking. Then one day as we came home from the mall we saw him being dragged out of his house, naked and covered in plastic wrap.
But now I'm just remembering things I'd forgotten on purpose.
After being rejected from numerous escort agencies and failing to score a ride with someone after a few nights of old-fashioned whoring, I gave up. There was no fucking way for someone like me to get a good job. Unless I got a sex-change operation. Then everyone would want to fuck me.
As luck would have it, though, I DID find a job. And what a job it was. I was one of the assistant chefs at a fancy restaurant, which was just a nice title for the poor moron who got to clean off the scraps and set the roach traps. I hate roaches.
And to be fair, the job itself WAS crappy. Until I met Andreas.
He was the head chef. The moment I saw him, I began to slobber profusely for five minutes straight.
"Kid, are you, uhh ok? Wait, what's his name again? Matthew? Matthew! Someone please get a towel. He's salivating all over the umm, cod. Actually, get uhh, two."
I literally wet myself. Just not with piss. Fortunately, though, because I'd been drooling I could blame it for the moisture.
He toppled over me because he was so tall, with short blond hair, green eyes and a body to die for. He spoke with a light Norwegian accent and every other thing he said was either "uhh" or "umm". I could go on with the description, but I'm afraid it's already making me too hot. . .
I didn't get to work with him directly, which implied I didn't get the chance to try to get into his underwear. Instead, I worked side by side with another assistant, Julian. He was another scrawny boy, just with strawberry blond hair and grey eyes. In case I wasn't able to get Andreas to fuck me, Julian was my back up. He was hot and we shared many things in common, like the fact that we both wanked in the cleaning room as Andreas vocalised his approval of the food he'd made. We would just block would any references to food and used the various "ooh's" and "ahh's" to add a new dimension to our fantasies. Except Julian had crabs.
We'd just finished wanking that afternoon and Julian took off his undies to wring out the jizz. As he did so, I began to fear getting fucked by him; it was a shitload of jizz. What if I exploded? God fucking damn it, he could've filled a bucket with it! Anyway, I was curious to see if his underwear was really all that drenched, mainly because I couldn't believe it.
"Jules, let me see that. MY GOD, no wonder you's so fucking bone dry!"
"Err, mate, I wouldn't touch that if I were you."
"Why bloody not?!"
"Ahh, 'cos I got crabs, mate."
He looked so embarrassed it was cute. I had to force myself to be satisfied with looking at the little bucket that had his stuff in it. Damn, it really WAS a lot.
One day as I was sweeping remnants of dill on the floor, I happened to overhear Andreas talking to someone. It was a woman. My cheeks began to burn with jealously. What the hell was that bitch doing with my Andreas?
Oh, Andreas you look so good. Andreas, this is delicious. Andreas, you never spend time with me anymore. That scurvy-ridden, defiled whore should be shot just for talking in that pitch.
"Julian, can you, uhh, get me the, uhh, elk?"
I wanted to see her, just so I knew what I was going up against and took the tray of elk meat to Andreas before Julian got to it. Fake blonde. Why don't you try to get a man without your precious implants? I bet your arse is fake too. You're probably filled with-
Then I got one of my great ideas. I remembered what had happened last week. All I had to do was give it to her and Andreas would dump her. . .
I WAS GOING TO GIVE HER CRABS.
Genius. Just genius. I ran down the street and brought a couple of porn magazines. Then I convinced Julian to wank in the bathroom with them. I waited until he started wringing the jizz to drop a tray of herbs on the floor. And just as I expected, Julian forgot his undies as he rushed to clean up the mess. I ran and got them before he realised he'd pulled his stuff up without them. I worse gloves, because There was no way in hell I would get crabs. Like I needed another thing to make me horny.
But maybe I wouldn't have to do anything. Julian had, after all, run out of the bathroom without washing his hands. All I had to do was watch as the bitch ate.
Enjoy your jizz-covered asparagus, whore.
Even so, I rubbed Jules's underwear on the chair she was going to sit in, just to make sure she wouldn't get away without it.
I had been overcome by such excitement over my chances of giving her crabs I completely dismissed the fact that ingesting the critters would not result in that oh so lovely genital itch. Luckily for me, my evident paranoia kicked in. The bitch would have crabs. All I had to do was rub my hands evilly and wait.
"Would you PLEASE stop rubbing your hands? You haven't eaten the entire week, and it's not as though you could afford not to."
I stared at my mother with puppy eyes as I continued to rub my hands. It would not be the evil thing to do to stop. Besides, ever since I worked in Andreas's restaurant, all I could fantasise about was food. At that point, the mere mention of a scone meant a visit to the bathroom where I proceeded to relieve myself.
". . .Oh god!. . .You're so soft. . .and milky. . .AHHH!!! SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!"
After I finished I continued my daily routine. I cleaned the toilet (I couldn't very well ignore it, after my doings, it looked more like a glazed donut than a toilet,) the counters in the kitchen and de-shelled the oysters.
As I washed my fishy hands I heard the door slam. No one was here this early. Jules came in two hours after me. They had screwed me with earliest shift.
"Are you, umm, done washing the, uhh, scallops?"
It was him. The Norse god.
He had acknowledged my existence by asking me about my tasks. Even though he was wrong about them. . .
"Scallops? I thought you wanted oysters?"
I jumped as he slammed his huge fist against the counter. Thoughts of the crying women of the wife beaters flooded my head. Was this the beginning of an abusive relationship?! Or would I be relinquished to being an inflatable punching toy? Either way, the idea was arousing me. . .
"Christ. . .I somehow always manage to screw things up. And now Inga has crabs. . ."
He sighed deeply and when he looked up, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
"FUCK! You're here! She's going to kill me when she knows I said it out loud!"
His face was as red as a balloon and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor sod. He has just admitted to having a crabby hole.
"Crabs. . .?"
The word escaped my mouth before I knew it. He stared at me and then sighed. He was caving in. He was going to tell me everything. . .!!
"Yeah. My sister has crabs. She, uhh, doesn't know what to do. The funny thing is, she's studying theology and wants to be a nun."
Oh shit. I crabbed his sister. And a nun no less. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I couldn't very well confess.
"God knows I could never, ever be that saintly. . ."
His words drifted as he stared at me. He was making me very uncomfortable.
"Why not?"
"For the same reason you have a bulge in your pants."
"You mean you're a compulsive masturbator too? Finally! Someone who understands!"
I got on my knees and crawled my way across the kitchen to where he was. I wrapped my arms around his legs and pressed my face-
Wait a fucking moment. HE HAD A BONER?
I pulled my face away in disbelief as I looked at his crotch. Was this my doing? Dear god, he was enormous.
"Go on. Do as you please."
I felt like a French maid at his mercy. But one question remained.
"You want me to have sex with you?"
He looked down at me and began to piss himself with laughter. Then he stopped abruptly.
"Dear god, you're really a virgin! I don't know what to think anymore these days, with all you teasers, in your tight little shirts and skirts. . ."
"But I'm not wearing a skirt."
"Well, I only said that because I usually go for girls. However, I must admit that easiness with which you become excited arouses me. Here, pull down your trousers and turn around."
"Wha-"
Before I knew it, his hands were on my waist, as he turned me around and exposed my blushing arse cheeks. He was going to do it.
I WAS FINALLY GOING TO GET FUCKED!
"No, you're too small. And your hole looks irritated. You almost fooled me when you acted like a virgin there."
"But I swear I'm a virgin!"
"Then why is your hole so red?"
Damn. He had me there. It was then that I desperately wished I had fucked myself with something better and respectable. Like a dildo. Or a vibrator. They had some really cool ones! In all sorts of shapes and sizes! And I could've put a leather condom on it for an added effect!
But it was too late.
"I. . .I rammed a vegetable dick up my poop shoot."
"Vegetable dick. . .?"
He opened up the refrigerator and took out a cucumber. The witch! He had known all along! But how?
DOM! That fucker! He betrayed me! Again!
". . .Now, Matthew, we understand that boys your age have certain, emm, physiological urges, but bringing this sort of material to this facility is not acceptable."
I slumped in the chair as I tried to suppress the orgasmic look on Kate's face as the plumber barged his tool into her.
". . .it is our policy to discipline any individual that deliberately disobeys this rule. In doing so, many of your classmates were potentially exposed to the delicious, voluptuous body of the lonely housewife that is Kate. My god, is she good. OH, KATE! YOU'RE SQUEEZING IT OUT OF ME! KATE!"
It was happening again. I squirmed in my seat and covered my ears, concentrating on removing the face of the teacher on the plumber's body. He was ruining my favourite porno with his lecture.
". . .and you must wonder who it was that made these accusations. Despite your thoughts and feelings, your classmate, Dominic Howard, is a good friend. It takes a good friend to help out another in order to correct an undesirable and detrimental behaviour."
Dom. That snitch. That bastard had beat my arse until I had blood in my underwear. And now he was costing me a fuck.
"Yeah. My girlfriend used to use cucumbers on herself whenever I was gone. If your hole wasn't so swollen, I'd fuck you, but that is not the case. It's a pity. Your arse is amazing."
The look on my face must have been exceptionally pathetic though because he didn't kick me out.
"But I'll wank you, if you want. You look like you're about to explode."
He sat me on his lap. The arsewipe. His huge boner teased me as it pried my cheeks apart and rubbed itself against my hole. His hands began to pull up and down and. . .
"AHHHHHHH!!!"
There were no words to explain the sublimeness of the experience. He had to cover my mouth to stop me from screaming further.
"What's wrong with you? You didn't even last a minute!"
He laughed at me playfully, but it still hurt.
"What's wrong with you? You're not saying "uhh" after every word!"
He began to wipe my jizz off his hands with a kitchen towel and then put it over a plate of salmon.
"Oh that. It's just a way to pick up girls. They're so dumb; they think it's cute, apparently. Here, let me, uhh, get that for, umm, you."
I stood there, frozen, blushing as he wiped the stuff off my tummy.
"See? It works like a charm."