The New Chef (L/F) ~ Ignite Story

This story contains strong language (L)
This story involves fantasy (F)
You can read more about these annotations here.

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For us to play out this fantasy, we first had to create a story. So join me as I write “The Setup” before we get to the nice part. And just to make it clear, I am NOT a chef!

The setup:-
For most people, restaurants are romantic, charming places where they can relax, socialize, flirt, or even get engaged. To me, a restaurant is an endless battle. A battle against cockroaches, stolen credit cards, lazy waiters and temperamental kitchen staff.

My latest business idea is a bistro in a shady suburb of Cape Town that used to be a steakhouse. The steakhouse had to give way to the changing nature of society and fashion. In came health shops, yoga studios, and coffee shops. I already own three restaurants in several other parts of the city. So the bistro is an experiment rather than a sure thing that I know is going to make good money.

Sports fans are easy. As long as the drink is cold, the waitresses nice and friendly, and the piece of meat larger than the plate on which it is served, you seldom have any complaints. Throw in some big screens showing sports and Fashion TV (but only the “lingerie shows”) and now you pretty much have a license to print your own money.

But the bistro is a new attempt. Maybe on my part, I need to attract customers who do not drink brandy with Coke but rather cognac (without Coke). Customers who might be looking for tiny, spicy delicacies on their plate loaded with flavor, something more than a lump of beef with gravy poured over it (along with half a chicken instead of salad).

Now my greatest need is a Super Chef. I start doing interviews.

Quite a few of the aspiring chefs do not pass the first interview. They don’t understand that I’m not going to open a ‘steakhouse’ again this time. After two weeks, I have a shortlist of four candidates. I arrange a day for each one to come and cook for me.

Giuseppe worked on passenger ships around the world. His food is ‘French fusion’ with strong Vietnamese and Korean influences. It’s naughty and pretentious. But I know the “rich and famous” dolls won’t bite on it. Giuseppe’s name drops off the list.

Hans is next, a German who has worked in some top places. Good references, good hands, but little imagination. He can open recipe books and make perfect and slavishly imitated well-known dishes. But give him maroela and kudu and ask him to create something with it and he’s lost. Another name disappears from my list.

Alvin impresses me. He’s a young Malaysian from the Upper Cape and this boy can cook! I surprise him with some strange ingredients. But every time, he gets something on my plate that is interesting and very tasty. I put a tic behind his name and wonder what I’m going to offer him. It’s going to be expensive, but a chef like him is just what a potential snob paradise needs. A Big YES next to ​​his name!

The end of “The setup” – Now The Games Begin:-

I have one more chef to give a second interview to. She walks into the restaurant five minutes early wearing chef’s trousers and a jacket tied to the neck with a red scarf. Her reddish hair is tucked up in a bun under her toque. In her hand is a bag with her knives and other personal equipment. She greets me with a firm handshake and says she’s ready to start.

During her first interview, she was friendlier. She was dressed in a short red dress with a low neck that showed some cleavage, and her hair was loose and curled on her shoulders. I thought she was too nice to be a chef. Her femininity gave me the impression that she would never be able to intimidate a full kitchen. However, her knowledge and enthusiasm persuaded me to give her a chance.

This time Lucy shows no femininity in her attitude or clothes. Her bosom is armored, her throat obscured and her legs concealed. I regret that I asked her back—not because of her professional attitude, but because of Alvin. She will have to cook really well to outdo him. This opportunity I gave her might just be a waste of time.

I take her on a tour of the kitchen and explain again what type of cuisine I want to serve. I show her a pantry full of ingredients to choose from. The first test is a three-course meal of her choice, and she has one hour. I warn her that there is no leniency in terms of time or style. She nods impatiently and says I can be back in exactly an hour.

I set the kitchen alarm clock and go to the office for some relaxing time. Every now and then I watch what she does on the closed-circuit television. But she doesn’t do anything strange, only what professional chefs around the world do: cut and chop and bake and brew.

Exactly one hour later, I go back to the kitchen. Lucy has covered a table with a tablecloth from the storeroom, as well as plates and cutlery. It’s a little too French and fine for my taste. But anyway…

Her appetizer is a concoction of fish with shrimp and a spicy sauce that tastes wild. With every taste, I find a nuance that surprises me. Impressive!

As I am busy tasting, she works behind the stove. Her hair has come loose and hangs over one eye like a veil. Every now and then she wipes the veil with the back of her hand. I notice that I’m watching her and not eating. I quickly grab another bite and then push the plate aside.

She sees, approaches, and takes the plate away. She must be disappointed that I didn’t eat everything, but her face shows nothing. She just asks if I am ready for the main course.

She presents me with Angel Hair pasta with Foie Gras and duck skin pretzels. The pasta is light and perfect. The Foie Gras is fried in butter and the duck skin is crispy and loaded with flavor. I cringe as she just stands and watches. Halfway through, I realize I’m going to have to taste a few more dishes, and I’m going to be completely stuffed.

“Delicious,” I mumble.

She takes the plate away. When she comes back with dessert, I see she has pushed the lock of hair under the chef’s cap.

Her pudding is a chocolate mousse with a delicate sugar-net cap over it. I’m disappointed. Chocolate mousse? Even if she has bothered with the sugar-net cap, it is not the kind of thrill I am looking for. I sigh and carefully remove the sugar thread. But when I try to set it aside, the brittle thing breaks into pieces. I notice her displeasure. Using my spoon, I gently touch the mousse to test the texture. Then I take a bite.

I can’t believe what I taste …

I look up in amazement and she looks at me with a question mark on her face. I realize, almost surprised, that her eyes are deep green. I roll the mousse into my mouth. Chocolate, yes, but also chili and something else. Again, I roll the sweet fieriness in my mouth, still looking into her eyes. Marula? Kiwi? I swallow and her pink tongue slides across her lips.

“What is it?” I ask.

“My secret recipe.”

“Chocolate, chilies, and?” I ask again.

She smiles slightly and shakes her head. “I can only share it with you when I get the job. Do you like it?”

I nod and take another bite. Breathtaking. I nod my head, gesturing for her to sit down. She pulls up a chair opposite me. I don’t know what is going on in my head, but I take a second spoonful and hold it out to her. She looks at me for a moment with a slight frown, then leans forward without taking her eyes off mine.

Her mouth opens, her tongue slips out, and she licks the mousse off the spoon. Then for the first time, I notice the sensual heat in her eyes. She closes them slowly and delights in the explosion of taste. Her eyes open again and she licks her lips. The movement of her tongue sends shivers down my back and all the way to my hardening cock. A piece of mousse remains in her mouth.

“Tell me what you’ve got in there,” I try again.

She smiles and shakes her head again. Then she leans forward with her mouth slightly open. I take another spoonful and offer it to her. This time, as she sticks out her tongue, I turn the spoon upside-down. The mousse drips down onto her tongue. She licks it and rolls the chocolate around in her mouth. Her tongue slides across her lips, and again, a piece of mousse remains behind.

I put out my hand and start wiping the chocolate off her lip. For some reason, I don’t finish. I sit there and stare into her eyes with my finger against her mouth. Slowly, very slowly, she turns her head and lets my finger slip into her mouth. She gently sucks my finger into her mouth up to the second knuckle. Then I feel her tongue gently rolling around my fingertip.

She allows my finger to slip out of her mouth and then she sucks it in again. We sit like this for what feels like an eternity. She slowly sucks my finger and pushes it out, again and again, until there is no more chocolate left in her mouth. I drop my hand. My mouth is dry. My heart is pounding like the galloping of a horse in my chest.

She takes the bowl with the chocolate and puts her finger into it. She then holds it out to me again. I gently lick the chocolate, and this time I suck her finger into my mouth. I use my tongue and lick her finger gently and sensually until it is clean. Another finger full of chocolate, another cleaning. And then suddenly the bowl is empty.

She pulls her finger through the bowl one last time, licks it off, and gets up. I notice that she is breathing just as heavily as I am. She walks to the workstation behind the stove and stands with her back towards me. When she turns around, I notice that she has filled the bowl again. This game is far from complete.

She removes her cap. Her hair falls out and rolls over her shoulders. I watch her loosen the scarf, and then slowly she begins to unbutton the crisp white chef jacket.

I get up and walk towards her. When she hears my footsteps she turns away but doesn’t stop unbuttoning her jacket.

I stand behind her and gently touch her hair. I become aware that her body has stiffened slightly. Did I misunderstand? I pull the hair away and blow against her neck. She sighs deeply. I take her by the hips and pull her toward me and bite her nape very gently.

Her back arches and she moans softly. My hands slip under the chef’s jacket and slowly slide down to her stomach. A slight vibration ripples across her skin. Her stomach is soft and testifies to more hours in the kitchen than on a rowing machine. I slip my finger into her navel and carefully roll it around. Then my hands start moving upward.

She is wearing a sports bra. That explains why her breasts looked so tightly armored under her jacket. She leans forward slightly and presses her soft arse back against me. I have become rock-hard. As she touches my hard cock it’s my turn to moan.

She turns and lets the jacket slip off her shoulders. Her skin is marble-white with only one small mole to the left of her navel. I look at her from top to bottom. Her eyes are on my face, questioning, hungry, seeking acceptance in my eyes.

She raises her hands and slips the bra up and over her head. Her breasts fall out of their prison. They are a perfect size, neither too heavy nor too small. Champagne glass-size is about right. The bra has disappeared and she’s standing in front of me with her soft boobs begging for attention. Her nipples are hard with excitement and her areolas dark with arousal.

Her tongue slides over her lips again and then she starts unbuttoning my shirt. She pulls it from my pants and throws it on the floor where her bra and jacket have landed.

She dips her fingers into the bowl of mousse. Then very slowly she spreads it over both her nipples and looks me straight in the eye. “Wanna taste? The chili is doing something special to my nipples!”

I push her away and struggle to get rid of my pants. Turning around just in time, I see her kick her pants into the corner of the room. Her panties are completely transparent, the wetness of her pussy extremely evident. She looks up to find me staring at her. Dipping her hand in the mousse again, she slips it into her panties. She rubs the mousse all over her pussy and hard little clit. The next moment, she sits down on the chair and pulls her panty to the side. Her chocolate smeared pussy is exposed. With lust in her eyes, she says, “Come, Chef, tell me if you like what I have prepared for you!”

I am completely naked and go down on my knees, hungry to taste the sweet flavor that she has to offer. As I try to start eating her pussy, she puts her hand under my chin to stop me from doing it. My face lifts to see her fingers circling her nipples. They are now dripping with the mousse that has melted from her body heat.

“You have to try the starters before savoring the main course,” she instructs.

I move closer and lean forward. Her soft pink nipples, covered with delightful chocolate, slip into my mouth. Her nipples are hard and extremely sensitive to my mouth. A low moan escapes me. I lick all the mousse off around her nipples, moving from one to the other. Then I take one of them between my teeth and bite down on it softly, eliciting a deep moan from her throat. My other hand grabs her other nipple, twisting it hard between my fingers. Her body trembles as she has a nipple orgasm. My head gets pushed away, and I move down to the main course.

My mouth covers her pussy and my tongue finds her clit. The taste of her juices mixed with the chocolate mousse is a new experience. It brings me to the edge of cumming without even being touched. I grab my cock and squeeze it very hard to stop my orgasm as I continue eating the most exquisite dinner that any chef can dream of.

My tongue enters her pussy, searching for every drop of her juices. Grabbing her buttocks, I use my grip to help force my tongue into her over and over and over. Her body starts shaking. I clearly feel her pussy contracting around my tongue.

The next moment she screams at the top of her voice, “Ohhhhhhh fuuuuuuck, Chef! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

My head is in a vice-grip. I cannot move as she keeps on shaking and screaming words that do not usually come out of a lady’s mouth.

At this point, Lucy grabs the back of my head, preventing me from any further penetration into her pussy. My tongue slowly circles her clit and I keep her on the verge of another orgasm.

As she starts to relax, she looks down into my face and very softly whispers, “Stand up.”

I do, my cock dripping pre-cum on the floor.

Her face shows her pleasure in seeing my heat. She dips her hand in the bowl of mousse next to her. I suddenly become very aware of the slight chili sensation as she enfolds my cock in her hand and smears the mousse all over it.

It feels as if it wants to burst out of its seams. Her hand slowly slides up and down. Once, twice, three times. Then she changes her grip. She pulls back my foreskin, making sure that I experience the full sensation of the mousse and chili on my most sensitive part. I start to enjoy the burning as she dips her hand into what remains in the bowl, then smears the chili mousse all over my balls.

My new Chef (Yes, she is hired and I will cancel the other applicants) slides off her chair. She kneels in front of me and I watch as my mousse-covered cock slips into her mouth. My head is spinning and my legs are shaking. The next moment, I experience the sensations of her hand playing with my balls, but it does not end there.

Her hand keeps on moving further and further to the back. At the same time, her tongue is making circles around my swollen cock-head. I do not know where to focus my attention. I feel her finger touching my arse. Then she is penetrating me with her mousse-covered finger.

I am so close to cumming that I get tears in my eyes. My body is shaking with intense pleasure. I am at the point of no return when Lucy lets my cock drop out of her mouth with a ‘plopping’ sound. I stand there shaking all over. Pre-cum and mousse dripping on the kitchen floor. My new Chef is not done yet. She is really cooking now, and the kitchen is becoming overheated.

She grabs the last of the mousse in the bowl, pours it onto her chest and pulls me against her body. Her nipples are so hard that I clearly feel them against my chest. She moves like a snake, writhing against me and getting us both covered in mousse.

Our place is a mess, and we are so horny that we do not care. We want to fuck and we are doing just that.

My precious wife turns around and puts her arms on the counter. Her boobs are hanging down and her arse is in the air. “Fuck me! Don’t just stand there with your cock hard! Get that thing in me and fuck me now!”

I slip into her with so much ease. There is an overflow of lubrication. Chocolate mousse, my pre-cum, and her pussy juices! We are so wet. The sounds we make as I ram my cock into her again and again and again are the sweetest imaginable. I am shocked that I last more than a few seconds. But for some reason, I hold back. Only when I hear her screaming, “I’m cumming! Oh fuck, I am cumming! Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop….fu-u-u-u-u-u-ck!” do I explode.

I roar like a wounded animal. My head is spinning and my legs want to collapse underneath me. I hold my cock in as deep as possible, releasing all my seed into her deepest place. She keeps on grinding her pussy against me to feel the last spasms of my cock.

I pull back and her body releases me. My Lucy turns around, drops to her knees and starts cleaning my cock. She is very soft and tender as she sucks out the last drops of cum. Then she licks off as much of the mousse as she can. She gets up, puts her bum on the kitchen counter, and says, “Your turn, Chef. I need you to eat me. Clean me and make me cum one more time. I still have so much heat in this body that you could bake a cake in my pussy.”

Who am I to resist a lady’s request?

Lucy knows one of the most intimate and exciting things I can do is eat her pussy after I filled it with my cum. And this time is no different. I have just begun, when she starts moaning. She finds it impossible to keep her sexy arse still. She’s squirming and having a great time, cumming and pressing her pussy into my mouth.

What a great way to end an interview. She was by far the best candidate! How could I not give her the job!?