The other night, he came over and cooked steak and pasta. For dessert, he prepared apple and peach pies. Watching him be so diligent in my kitchen and setting timers to make sure that everything was perfect made me feel forgiving of all the times he has totally screwed up and been late or irresponsible. Plus, the great thing about him cooking for me all the time is that if I get fat, it would be his fault.
As much as I enjoy being taken out to dinner, I love when a man cooks for me. There’s something about a man slaving away in a kitchen that is sexy. When I arrived at my boyfriend’s house last Thanksgiving and saw the spread he had laid out, I wanted to rip off his clothes instantly.
See, any man can cook a turkey, but a man who can not only do that, but also make the stuffing from scratch and bake three different kinds of fruit pies for dessert is a man who turns me on. His passion for cooking alone is sexy. His ability to prepare a tasty meal infused with rich flavours and textures is sensual. And, his desire to please my palate and the way he looks at me with puppy dog eyes waiting to hear if I like what he has made is romantic. Furthermore, he got his cookbook from his mother, his cooking mentor, and a man who has a sweet relationship with his mother makes me think he’s a good guy all around.
More importantly, after spending so many hours in the kitchen, preparing, eating and cleaning up, well there’s another room in my apartment we escape to for the night where my boyfriend continues to turn me on utilizing his talents for haute cuisine and heating things up.
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