Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Chapter I: Will Cook for Food (MF Roma, Oral)

   "That sign for real?" A faded blue hatch-back pulled up.

   "Sure is," I grabbed it before sliding off the hood, dropped it on the
front seat.

   "Let me get some things first," she pulled up to a closer space. 
Understandable, as I'd parked at the end of a lane for visibility.

   I caught up with her in produce, she'd already gotten a head of iceberg.
"Any dietary restrictions I should know about?"

   "Uh," she looked up at me, "Cheap?"

   "Well," I guessed I could do that, "What kind of food do you like?"

   "Pizza, spaghetti," she looked vaguely Italian, "Regular food."

   "Mushrooms?" I held up an Italian brown.

   "Sure," she wandered off while I selected half a dozen.

   She stopped for a bag of potatoes, and I caught up.  "How many people?"

   "Just me, and Jerry," I threw in a ten pounder for her, glanced down at
her bare fingers as she was rolling off.

   "Boyfriend?" I snagged a clove of garlic and followed.

   "Son," she put the garlic down on the wrong stand, "I got some at home."


   "How old?" I pushed the cart off, she didn't stop me.

   "Eleven," either she'd had him in high school, or she was older than she
looked.

   "Where's his dad?" I pried a little.

   She shrugged, again, "Left before his son was born,"

   I sensed understandable hostility, "Does he even pay child support?"

   She pulled up to the meat case, "Sometimes," picked up a sleeve of
hamburger.  "When the court makes him."

   I grabbed a pack of fresher ground, "It's cheaper."

   "You're homeless?" she pried right back.

   "Temporarily between residences," we swung around to the cereal isle,
"I'm not proud of it, just to proud to live like it."

   "What happened?" she threw in a bag of fruit loops analog.

   "I misjudged the market for Haute' Cuisine," and realized I was a better
chef than entrepreneur.  I repressed my revulsion as she piled up on the
Hamburger "Helper", and San Francisco "Treat", but drew the line at Preggo.
"I'll make you some marinara," I grabbed some cans of tomato sauce, and
paste.

   "So you had your own restaurant?" she put the jar back.  I pulled out my
wallet, showed her the picture that would never let me forget.  "You have
money?"

   "Some," there was no use denying it.

   "Then why do you do this?" an honest question.

   "What I've missed most is having a kitchen," I let that sink in.

   "Oh," she got it, "Olives?"

   "Definitely," I followed her out into the cashier line.

   "Where do you get it?" she made conversation.

   "Day labor," when they weren't overstaffed.  Today I didn't even go in
after seeing the line.

   "Oh," she held out her hand, "I'm Marie."

   "Alan," I held her hand, momentarily, "I consider it a judge of
character how long I can talk to someone before exchanging names."

   "How'd I do?" she smiled.

   "About average," she seemed satisfied with that.

   I won't recount the transaction, it wasn't very interesting.  I killed
time checking her out.  She looked very young, late twenties at the most.
Not a wholly remarkable face, but nice full lips, and an impressive nose.
Her hair looked like it had been up all day, and not been brushed since
it's release.  She paid in singles, and fives from her apron, and I helped
her load the grocery getter.

   Chapter II: Cooking

   He was kind of weird, you know?  Really couldn't tell he was homeless,
or nothing.  He was to clean, and he talked to good.  Ok looking, I guess.
Kinda fat, but Grandmama always said "Never trust a skinny cook." Anyway,
he followed me home and he had to park in a vizitor space.  Lucky there was
one, but I guess everbody was out for the nite.  He even carried the
grocieries up to the apartment.

   "Nice place," he lied.

   "Thanks," I took it like a compliment because he was like that. 
Everything he said sounded so real I didn't know if he was just that
truthfull, or just a really good liar.  "You mind if I take a shower?"

   "I promise not to steal anything," he was opening counters, and looking
at what I had to work with.  Anyway, I didn't think I had anything he
wanted.

   God, I felt gross.  I wanted to take my feet off with my shoes, but I
just kicked them in the corner, and took off my apron.  I lit another
cigarette though I just had one in the car, I had a lot of catching up to
do from work.  It was hell, but I got lots of tips, some of the other girls
where even jealous of it.

   I went in the bathroom, and turned on the water.  God, I looked like
shit, hair all froed out.  I just stripped off, and got in, no time to take
at it.  It felt almost godly, I wanted to stay in till the water got cold,
but I just got clean.  I got under my arms, and between my legs real good,
hoped I'd need it.  He wasn't really sexy, but just kind of seductive, you
know?  I could stand to be seduced, it'd been so long since anybody went to
the trouble.  Sure, I could still get laid, but it was mostly just a quick
stick, and "See ya later."

   I got out, and dried off real quick.  Almost forgot to wrap the towel
around me, but I was reminded when I opened the door.  "Jesus!" it smelt
like granmama's house when she was still around, "This place has never
smelt like that!" I ran in my room, and threw on some clothes.  Just a
teeshirt, and jeans, I didn't bother with bra, and panties.  It still smelt
awesome out there, and I came around to the kitchen.

   "Hey, Mama" Jerry came round and hugged my waste.

   "Feel better?" What's his nuts, Alan just glanced back over his shoulder
from the sink.  That was another thing, I didn't mind guys looking at my
tits, but I didn't catch him at it yet.  I hoped he wasn't gay, or nothing.


   "What's cookin?" well, he sayed he'd make me some spagetti sauce, but it
sure didn't look like what I was used to.  It had chunks in it like a stew,
or something.

   "Maranaira," he turned, and peaked in the oven, "And some antepasti."
The smell from the oven almost made me faint it was so good.

   "Comeon," I pulled Jerry with me, "Let's go watch TV."

   "Mama," he curled up with me on the sofa.

   "Yeah?" I put it on 7, and watched Jeapordy till Wheel came on.

   "Is Alan your new boyfriend?" I turned it down so we could talk.

   "Dunno," I thought about it, "it's just kind of a date right now."

   "He's got a lot of money, doesn't he?" it switched to commercial anyway,
so I muted it.

   "Why d'you think that?" I laffed.

   "I dunno," he shook his head, "He just seems rich."

   "No honey," I hated to get his hopes down, "He's poor like us."

   "Where's the table?" Al called from the kitchen.

   "In here!" I moved the ashtray, and stuff while he brought out the
plates.  God, it even looked good.  I didn't think food could anymore.  I
crossed myself, and took a bite.  "Mmmm!" I didn't want to talk bad about
the dead, but it was even better than granmama's.  We didn't have a chair,
or nothing, so Al sat on the floor over the coffee table.  He put my
platter with cheezy herby bread around the mushrooms like a flower.  I said
"Mmmm!" again so he could hear it.

   "Glad you like it," he put a mushroom on his bread, and took a bite like
that.  I tried it, and it was really good that way.

   I just left the sound off while we ate.  He even took the dishes back
for us, and I lit a cigarette.  Jerry sayed "He's really nice," and I
hugged him.  He was, you know?  He'd probly make a good husband.  Sure
could cook, and Jerry liked him.  I bet he could get a steady job with an
address, and I guess I wasn't to old to have another kid or two.

   Jerry fell a sleep in my lap, so I picked him up, and took him to bed. I
kissed his head, and said a prayer over him cause he didn't.  Al was on the
sofa when I went back out, so I pushed him over, and got on with him.  It's
little so, we would have to try not to touch, but I didn't.  He felt warm
next to my leg.

   "You can crash here tonight," He sure earned it.  It was a sin and all
to have sex without a husband, but I already made that mistake and payed
for it.  Besides, it's not like you can get a husband these days without
sleeping with him.

   He grinned, "I'm gonna need some bedding." I could tell he was just
playing along.

   "No you won't."

   Chapter III: A Matter of Taste

   I never did care for the flavor of cigarette smoke, but I tolerated it
on her breath.  Believe it, or not, homelessness doesn't provide a lot of
opportunities for romance, much less sex.  I hoped I was above average with
two months between, but honestly, I had better things to worry about.

   I didn't linger as long as the taste, just followed her back to her
room, picked up her shirt, closed the door behind us, and dropped the top
onto the jeans.  Apparently, she wasn't wearing anything else, because she
was naked on the bed.  "Well, that was quick!" My tastes tend to run a bit
leaner, but I was also raised to eat what's in front of me.  I knelt, and
went for desert.

   I noted a hint of soap to her bouquet, but failed to taste any on her
lips.  She apparently hadn't broken a sweat since the shower, nor gotten
detectably aroused.  Stubble added a spicy texture, but didn't get in the
way.  The kiss ceased to be chaste as I parted her lips with mine, and
traced down her hood to the tip.  The sweetmeat warmed, and leavened with
blood, and it began to simmer lower, so I moved down to her saucepot.

   If it's possible to reproduce the taste of a woman, I've failed.  Each
is a unique subtle dish of femininity.  Hers was hearty, Mediterrainian
like a bed of radiccio.  Her leaves tender, and succulent.  The warm,
dressing lacked the saltiness of sweat, or metallic tang of blood, so it
was purely the indescribable flavor of lust.  I inhaled the scent, ran my
nose up between her tagliatelle, rolled her olive down from the bridge to
the tip.  "Mmmh!" she said for me.

   I had her wipped to a froth in short order, and franticly unwrapped the
rubber by feel.  Soon, she was near a peak, and I let my pants slide down
as I joined her on the bed.  Timing is everything, and when I poked her,
she was done.  She kneaded me internally until I boiled over, breath hot on
my chest.  I pulled out, and slipped off the condom to baste her.  The
first garnished her chest where it cleft, and I aimed to ice the peaks. 
The pressure tappered off untill the last dribbled onto her belly.  The
fisrt course done, I went back for secconds.

   Chapter IV: Aftertaste

   Now, Im no virgin.  I been with lotsa guys, and even a couple girls. 
This was nothing like that.  I could feel him inhale while he ran his nose
up between my lips, and the humm of his aproval sang through me.  He didn't
stop when I got turned on, neither, just kept going like he liked it.  I
sure didn't when I tried it.

   It was all most like playing with myself, but not having to do it. 
Nobody ever made me feel as good as I could, not even him.  He was better!
Every itch I had was scracthed before I was even aware of it.  When I
cummed, I thought I'd pass out, but I don't think I did.  I could still
feel it when I felt him on top of me, in me.  I wasn't even breathing any
more, just letting him push it out of me, and suck back in all by it self.
I was still twiching in side when he pulled out and got off on me.

   But he wasn't done!  He kissed me again, and I found out I didn't really
taste that bad.  His hands finely touched my tits, but he wasnt really good
with them.  That's okay cause he started moving his mouth down there. 
Everyplace his lips, and tounge touched flashed like a match, the warm
puddles of his cum scooped up with his tongue, the nasty grin on his face
when he swallowed it.  My nipples popped with little kisses, then he licked
them like candy.  I pushed them together so he could kiss both of them, and
he reached up to touch my pussy.

   He felt around, but didn't really do much.  I let go my tits so he could
lick his way back down where he could do the most good.  He left a wet line
down my belly, and pulled playfully at my beard with his teeth.  I could
feel the roots just on the edge of pain, the feeling spreading deep to the
middle of my pleasure zone.  He kept his hand up there, rubbed me inside
while he ate me out.  This time, he layed over with my leg on him, so he
kind of licked me sideways.  I was just happy to get off, I never had
extra.

   I could get used to it, though.  Having a man that got me off before
him, kept going after.  He made me feel sexy in a way no other guy ever
did, not just some cow to poke, but someone to feel pleasure with.  Like my
feeling good was just as important, more important then him.  I saw he was
getting hard again, and reached out to feel his cock.  it wasn't bad, I'd
had better, but that's not what I loved about him.  I got my hand around it
all right, but it was to short for both.  I pulled on it, and he scootched
over.

   For some reason, I put it in my mouth.  I'd given head before, lots of
times, but it was always because it was expected, or because he wanted it.
This time, I wanted too, to make him feel as good as he made me feel.  I
could taste me on him, and his sweat, and his cum, but it wasn't nasty.  It
was like just another dish he whipped up in the kitchen, a weird mix of
flavors that some way was more than all the stuff that gone into it.  On
the other end of me, I could feel him kiss my asshole, like a Mama kiss at
first, then deeper.

   It's like he wanted to do everything nobody else did.  I been fucked
back there, but it hurt.  This was great, though, it felt weird, kinda
tickled, but in a good way.  He started licking all the way from my ass to
my clitty, and back, faster, and faster till I cum again.  The, he cummed
too, and I felt it fill my mouth all warm and thick like runny eggs.  I
swallowed it all, but the last bit that I left on my tongue.  I went down
to kiss him, fed him his juice, and tasted mine on him.  We tasted good
together.