Dinner Party · 4:03am Aug 26th, 2013

Me... Of all the others, she chose... me. She could have had any of them. Some were stronger, others broader, some were even better looking, almost perfect. But instead, she chose me: a little rought around the edges, slightly bent, perhaps even worn out. I'll never know why she chose me, but she did.

She wanted to have dinner with me. I knew not what, but whatever she wanted, I could handle it. Steak, salad, pasta, Italian, Mexican, even Chinese... I could do it all. Well, anything but crab; it didn't work well with me.

The evening wore on and she sat before me, visiting with her guests. From what I could smell, I deduced that it was definitely Italian. And after overhearing what she had said to a passing waiter, I knew that it was spaghetti, one of my specialities. I was amost giddy with excitement, but remained where I was seated.

I didn't know why I was placed where I was, between a rounder and rather plump thing and another, sharp looking one, but I did not fuss. She wanted me here, and I'd do anything for her.

"Dinner is served," one of the many waiters said, wheeling an ornate, silver dinner cart to this fine lady before me.

I watched in silent awe as he placed the perfect amount of pasta and sauce on her platter. She smiled pleasantly, thanking him before he moved onto the next guest.

Time seemed to slow as she stared at me, a look of hunger present in her saphirre blue eyes.

She reached out and grabbed me with one of her perfectly manicured hands, forcing me into the steamy dish, slowly moving me in all the right ways until I was thoroughly covered in spagetti. Call me Mr. Fetish, but it was one of the greatest moments in my life, both arousind and eurphoric in every possible way imaginable and even in ways that weren't.

With that firm, yet elegant grip, she brought me close. I had no idea what she was doing, for I was new to this. She barely looked at me as she stuffed my erect area in her mouth, wrapping her lips around it. She sucked, and I couldn't hold it, blowing all my sauce I had in her mouth. A pleasureful moan erupted from within as she pulled me out, tiny specks of spaghetti still clinging to my hardness. She set me released me, grabbing a napkin to wipe the corner of her pursed lips.

In my stupor, I stumbled about, ultimately falling to the floor. She looked down at me with disappointed and embarrassed eyes. I stared as she bent over to help me up, hoping no one had seen the event.

"Don't worry about that, madam," one of the waiters said. "Let me handle it for you."

I began to panic as he picked me up like I was nothing. With a tsk, iI was brought to the kitchen, where he practically threw me at the sink. I hit the edge with a resounding tung!

I was covered with dank water, unable to move. Everything went black and my only regret was that I had never asked her name...

...for I was a fork.

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