Chapter 12 - ch10b lust learn

Grocery store donuts are pretty bad, but still I'd downed all half dozen by the time we made it back to the cottage. Once there we opened some beer and got to work on our suppers. We'd kind of danced around the issue, but managed to come to an agreement to put off further sex until after Suppers. I use the plural, because there was what I had planned before we came up, and would still make, and what Gord was going to make up extra, to make sure I stayed well fed.

Mine was whole-wheat linguine with bits of chicken and vegetables, all tossed in olive oil and generously sprinkled with parmesan. Another recipe that Gord's mom had taught me, that was reasonably cheap, reasonably healthy, and something that you could easily make up, and eat, a lot of. I cooked up the whole box of linguine, and chopped up chicken and vegetables to match.

Gord made up a triple batch of mac-and-cheese--the kind you buy in a box--slicing in wieners and stirring in some barbecue sauce. He also provided creamed corn (from a can), and garlic bread (pre-made), and had picked up a cake for dessert. I tried to resist, I really did, but I finally had to say it "Dude, didn't your Mom teach you to cook?" It turned that the she hadn't, or at least he hadn't let her. It was hard for me to imagine anyone fighting with Mrs. Bunton, but apparently Gord and her had been at loggerheads a fair bit while I'd been in Edmonton. A mix of typical teenage stuff, stress from his Dad's cancer and eventual death, and Gord's determination to not end fat like his Mom.

When I pointed out that eat all that prepared crap was more likely to make him fat that was eating the sort of stuff his Mom made, he froze. Eventually he said "Man, it really sucked that you were gone for so long. I really never thought about it that way." This led into us finally sharing a lot more openly about the crappy times we'd had after I moved away. I'd been jealous of Gord because he was still in Winnipeg, but in a lot of ways he'd actually had it worse than I had.

All of that emotional sharing stuff kind of put a damper on the horniness. On the other hand, it didn't hurt my appetite, and before I realized it I'd downed two big plates of the pasta that I'd made, plus a plateful of Gord's mac-and-cheese concoction, and I don't know how many pieces of garlic bread. But no creamed corn, that stuff is just nasty. Our confessions kind of ran down, and I glanced around the kitchen, discovering that between us we'd downed a dozen beer since we'd started cooking. Maybe it was my mind reacting to that knowledge, but all of a sudden I felt massively bloated and pretty drunk, while moments before I'd not really noticed. I exclaimed at how drunk I was, and it seemed to shake Gord out whatever reverie he'd been in too.

He swore, and noted that it was getting late and we'd not even started on the cake. I wasn't so sure that I wanted cake, but I did want to cheer Gord up, so rather than object I got up to go fetch some cake. Well, I went to get up, but I staggered, off balance from my swollen gut and too much beer. Gord laughed at me, and started describing how huge my belly looked. I staggered over to him, shoved it in his face, and demanded to know what he was going to do about it. He started caressing it, then looked up at me, almost beseechingly, and said "Bend over, and let that big belly *** me?"

I was about to be a jerk and point out that my belly, for all its wondrous size, was not capable of any such thing. But then, through the haze of food and beer, a light bulb went off. I guess it should have kind of been obvious earlier, but I finally got it. He needed me to take control. For that he was stronger, fitter, and even the one who planned much of the evening, he needed me to take him. I looked down at him, and suddenly saw him differently. Still Gord, still strong, still sexy, but at the same time strangely delicate and precious.

I guess he mis-read my pause, because he suddenly assured me that it would all right, that the one girl he'd slept with at university had used a dildo on him, so he was ready for whatever I could do to him. I almost laughed as this just cemented what I realized. Muscular, macho, Gord needed to be dominated in bed. With that, a wave of lust hit me, and I was ready to give him what he wanted.

I learned a lot that weekend. I learned that contrary to long held belief that I wasn't all that sexual and actually something of a prude, I was actually a shameless slut--anytime I found myself thinking 'I wouldn't do that' I'd end up realizing it might turn on Gord, and immediately do it. I learned that over-stuffing myself to the point of pain could actually be a huge turn-on, at least in Gord's company. I learned that you can be so full that you can't take a deep breath. I learned that I don't sleep well when I'm that full. I learned that at any hour of the night, waking Gord up by rubbing a swollen belly against him was going to draw a horny reaction. I learned that Gord needed me to do things, to eat, to take him, while I just needed Gord to be there. I learned that, split between two guys, a box of a dozen condoms is not really enough for a long weekend, and so that better balancing of the spending on food, beer, and condoms would be advisable in the future.

By the time we were on the highway back to Winnipeg I had to recline my seat to give my belly more room. I was sore from over use in a couple of areas. I was exhausted from not sleeping well. And I knew that whatever happened, I'd not trade those three days for anything.