Pizza & Failed Seduction

He loved to feed me while feasting on me. I remember he ordered my favorite bacon and pineapple four corner pizza and invited me over for dinner. Upon entering his I noticed the table was prepared for me. There was a napkin, a wine glass, a bottle of my favorite wine, a packed bowl, and a lighter on the table. Of course I chose bud over wine. He took his best leather couch, a green one, out to the balcony for me to sit on while I inhaled my joy.

I came back inside furiously hungry and he knew it. He told me, “you can sit on that seat if it’s more comfortable.” It was. So he brought the box over to me and I picked out two corner slices. The first bite was glorious. He sat on the floor beneath me looking up as I tore into it.

I hadn’t fucked him in a while because the new relationship energy was dying. I felt virtually no excitement for him, and his tongue that had felt so good before was now losing to my flesh-like toys and uberlube at home. Before I knew it he was kissing up my calves then up my thigh, raising my dress to reach my pussy. It was not wet. He motioned for me to lift my hips so he could pull my panties down. I told him “I just wanna eat”

He backed off a little but not for long. Soon he was trying to eat me again. This time pulling my panties to the side and shoving his head in my lap to get to my clit. I did not move to accept him. I was pretty focused on the pizza and he was truly beginning to annoy me.

That night, the only meat I let inside me was pizza topping. It wasn’t immediately noticeable to me in the moment that his plan was to try to seduce me by buying my favorite food, with my favorite loud, and my favorite wine, then giving me head in hopes that all those things would make me more receptive to his cock. He tried it with plenty of my other favorites. He would always ask what my favorite dish was at such and such restaurant and then magically be there when I was at work, otherwise occupied, or simply refused to see him. Then he would send me pictures of the things I loved saying “wish you were here.”

In the beginning I thought it was sweet but couldn’t help thinking, “why doesn’t he have tastes of his own? Why is it always only the things he knows I like that he ends up getting?” It got old really quick, and kind of creepy now that I look back. Little did I know, this was all some sort of strategy of association. Pairing his presence with the things I liked to make it seem like I must like him too since he’s surrounded by my favorite things.

Well that strategy did not work. It pissed me off more than anything. Thankfully, my disgust for him didn’t translate to disgust for those food items. I was asking my new man about what pizza he likes and this memory of the Fraud I was Fucking came to mind. My favorite thing about my new man is that he has a personality. He has his own likes and dislikes, and though he will compromise to accommodate me, he is truly authentic in his expression of self. My second favorite thing about him is how hard he makes me cum after getting my consent to play with my pussy.