Cutting the Sage Derby

This story arose from a challenge I took on last week to write a short story involving cheese.

CUTTING THE SAGE DERBY

I was about to order when a man’s voice interjected

“Excuse me, I was next.”

I looked around startled and the only words I could find were to apologise.

“I’m sorry I…”

“No worries” he said.

He brushed past me as he went up to the counter, a little too firmly, I thought, to be entirely unintended. I watched him order a wide selection of cheeses, there was Jarlsberg, Roquefort, Gruyere, the stinking Alsatian Munster, Reblochon, Shropshire Blue, Sage Derby. Observing him I decided that he was about 15 years younger than me, trim. Bearded and well….he obviously didn’t eat that much cheese. A connoisseur definitely. He picked up his jute shopping bag, now bulging with cheese, took his plastic bag of cheese and smiled as he made to walk past me.

“You know your cheeses don’t you?” I observed in a conciliatory tone.

He smiled.

“Well yes. Actually I’m having a few friends round for cheese and wine tomorrow evening. Would you like to come?”

The following evening I walked the short distance to his house, two bottles of Gewurztraminer clanking in a plastic bag as I went.

“I’ve got a confession to make” he said as we clinked glasses and looked at the cheese laid out on the table. “I said I was having a few friends round. In fact there’s only going to be us.”

“And your friends?”

“I kind of uninvited them.”

He smiled.

“And if I hadn’t come?”

“That was a risk it was well worth taking.”

He took the wine glass out of my hand and placed it on the table.

We kissed. I buried my face in his luxuriant facial hair, pushed back against him, forcing my tongue in deep. After a while he struggled free and said

“We really can’t let this cheese go to waste can we?”

On the table he had laid out the cheeses on wooden boards. He took a piece of Sage Derby and with the knife carved it into a green veined cock. I dropped my skirt and took up handfuls of the soft goats cheese and smothered my mound in it. He knelt before me, licking it off eagerly before tonguing my swollen clit. He moved down to nibble gently, teasingly at my labia before sliding the Sage Derby dildo into my rapidly dilating pussy. Slowly, cautiously at first, then gradually picking up

the tempo, he slid it in and out. He pulled it out, and offered it to me. I sucked, gently, felt the cheese soften in my mouth, gently tongue whipped the end, then bit off a chunk, swallowed it with my sour juices as I did so. .

I took a piece of Gruyere from the board, placed two fingers in the largest hole and rubbed gently to widen it. I slipped it over his cock and moved it backwards and forwards. As his prick hardened and swelled, the cheese broke and I caught the pieces in my hand, put them in my mouth, chewing slowly before dragging him forward and placing my mouth over his, passing the cheese from mouth to mouth. With a violence that caught me by surprise he pushed me back onto the table. I felt a Camembert squeezed under my back, its ripening softness gushing from the crust. Biscuits fragmented under my buttocks as he forced my legs apart and climbed on top to fuck me, slow and hard, slow and hard, then gathering in speed and intensity as he moved in and out until the orgasm ripped through me and I could see nothing but green veins of ecstasy pulsing through me, to every corner of my body like the sage spreading through a Derby cheese.

As he withdrew he sent come spilling onto a piece of Reblochon. I licked greedily and ate.

“I presume you’ve planned dessert?” I asked.

 

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