I stirred the gravy.

That sounds like a strange euphemism, doesn't it? Well, it's not. I literally stirred a pot of gravy while I was having sex.

My husband has always had a strange tendency to become really aroused by watching me cook. I've asked him about it before, but he doesn't understand it any more than I do. It’s not unusual for him to walk up behind me when I'm in the kitchen and grab my ass – or a tit or two – before initiating sex. We normally end up having a quickie, with me bent over the kitchen counter.

He mostly does this when I'm prepping the food, but this time he came up behind me when I was frying chicken and cooking gravy. The chicken was fine for the couple of minutes that a quick quickie lasts, but I’d already started cooking the gravy. I managed to move us a couple of feet to the right so I was leaning over counter instead of the hot stove, but he didn't give me enough time to do something about the food.

Once we got going, I obviously forgot about the food, and I'm pretty sure my eyes were closed. While he was thrusting inside me, right when I was about to come, I heard my husband say: “It's boiling over!”. He is normally great at dirty talk, so it kinda threw me when he said that. It was such an embarrasingly unerotic way of announcing his approaching climax that it stopped mine from happening. Then he said it again, and it suddenly clicked. I opened my eyes and saw that the gravy was about to spill over the sides of the pot, but my darling husband was still pounding away.

In the end I had no choice but to reach over and stir it, while slapping away at the buttons in an attempt to lower the heat. It didn't work, so I pushed the pot away from the eye and allowed myself to forget about it. Being interrupted before an orgasm always makes me come really hard when it does happen, so there was a silver lining. The gravy was ruined, though.

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