honestly i have no idea where I was going with this, i'm hoping it's the start of a new story and i'm not sure how you guys feel about this since you all bloody love Give Me Love - but I wanted change. I admit that this may not be the type of Punk that exists, but I would love it if he was like this, i know all about his straight edge ethics but i'm just hoping you trust me on this side to CM Punk in this story, it's an OC/CM Punk - it's pretty long chapter but i really hope you like it :)))) please don't mither me to finish give me love because i'll get round to it, here's a new fanfic for you to enjoy in the meantime, don't forget to review

She had been teaching cooking classes at the local community college for two years now, but had only been holding private one-on-one lessons at her home for a few months to help supplement her income. The classes had originally only been held on Monday nights, but when word of mouth started to work in her favour, Ann had to include Wednesday and Friday nights as well. Apparently people liked the way she taught her passion. The private lessons were more expensive than the group classes at the college, but her students had told her that it was worth it.

Because she held the classes in her own kitchen, every student went through a vetting process. There was a basic background check, as well as three required non-family references. She couldn't help it. She wanted to be safe, because you never knew who was going to sign up for a class. There was a little storefront that she'd been eyeing for the last two months, one that she could easily turn into a little cafe where she could hold larger classes on the weekends.

As she puttered around in her kitchen, waiting for tonight's student to arrive, she hummed along with the radio. A few of her friends from culinary school had thought she was strange for preferring to listen to music while she cooked. Some of them had asked her how she could concentrate, but the music was honestly what kept her mind focused on what she was doing. It helped her keep her attention on the task at hand, as strange as that sounded to other people. If there was nothing but silence or ambient sound, Ann had a hard time focusing.

While she was filling ramekins with seasonings, her doorbell rang. She dusted her hands on her apron, turned the double oven to 450 so it could preheat, and walked over to the door, taking a deep breath. Admittedly, she hadn't looked into this man's information too much. There had been nothing on his criminal background check and the references were all glowing. That had been enough for her. Besides, she preferred to get to know her students in class instead of forming a preconceived opinion of them through the background check.

Her surprise when she opened the door to reveal a six foot tall, muscular, dark haired, bearded, tattooed hunk carrying a paper bag of supplies, popping a couple of jelly beans into his mouth, was palpable.

"Hi, I'm Phil," he said with a smile, sticking a hand out. It took her a second, but she took his hand and shook it, still somewhat confused as to how this man couldn't just ask his girlfriend to teach him to cook. "Uh. Can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," she replied, stepping back to allow him in. "I'm Ann, it's nice to meet you. Did you find the place okay?"

He nodded and walked in, looking around before giving her a crooked smile that made her weak in the knees. "It wasn't too difficult. So, where do you want me to put this stuff? The email I got said to bring it."

Taking a breath, she led him into the kitchen, wondering just who on earth suggested her cooking classes to this man and how she could kill them for not warning her about what a good looking man he was. He looked really familiar, but she couldn't place it. Maybe it was the beard.

"You can just unpack everything on the counter, then put your apron on and we can get started," she explained, picking up the remote for her iPhone dock to turn the volume down. She glanced at him and, noting that he was about to say something, added, "And yes, you have to wear an apron, no complaining."

"I wasn't going to complain, unless it has ruffles on it or something… I, uh. I kind of forgot to get one?"

Rolling her eyes, Ann reached into the pantry and blindly grabbed one off the row of hooks, where she kept a multitude of aprons for when she had guests over who simply had to help cook. "Here," she said as she tossed the apron to him. "Just put that on, then wash your hands." She made her way back to the fridge, putting the things he'd brought that needed to be refrigerated inside, since those things came later in the lesson. When she looked up again, he was holding the apron up and just looking at it with a bemused grin on his face. "What?"

"Was this the only one you had in there?"

"No, I have about twenty different aprons on the wall, why?"

He turned the apron around and pulled it over his head, adjusting it so that it fit comfortably before tying the strings around his waist. "No reason," he grinned, winking at her as she went to the sink to wash her hands and deal with the chicken. "I'm just amused."

To be honest, she wished she didn't pick out that particular apron, the WWE superstar montage apron was a constant reminder of her ex- boyfriend who just so happened to be her ex-boss at the restaurant she used to work in, it had been a gag gift from a him at Christmastime since he would never shut up about the different storylines, if she was being honest she secretly enjoyed it too. The apron looked damn good on him, even with him striking a superhero pose as Ann pulled her chicken out of the water bath it was in.

"You're silly," she smiled, shaking her head while she blotted the chicken dry with a paper towel. "Now, your email said that the most you can do, aside from taking stuff out of the freezer and throwing it in the oven or microwave, is macaroni and cheese, right?"

"That would be correct." Why was he standing right next to her? Good lord, he smelled nice. "My mom always cooks when I'm home so I just never really learned. I travel a lot for work, so most of the time I'm not even able to cook anyway." She looked up at him, tilting her head a bit as she studied him more closely. "What?"

She shrugged and picked the now-dry chicken up, carrying it over to the counter. "Nothing… You just look really familiar and I can't place it, that's all," she explained, putting the chicken on the cutting board, breast up. "Roast chicken is insanely easy. You can get as fancy or simple with it as you want. When I first started cooking, I just did a garlic rub and that was great. Anyway, unwrap your chicken and take the gizzards out, then rinse it until the water runs clear." There was a pause before she looked at him over her shoulder, laughing softly at the look on his face. "The gizzards would be the parchment paper pouch of internal organs that you'll find stuffing the bird's body cavity. Some people eat them, but judging by the look on your face, you don't, so you can just chuck them in the trash."

As she watched him, Ann couldn't help but smile at the way his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he worked on the bird. Especially not the way his ass looked in those jeans. Good lord indeed.

"All right, it's running clear, now what?" he asked, looking at her over his shoulder.

"Now bring it over to the counter and put it breast side up on your cutting board." She wasn't surprised that Phil had brought what looked like a brand new roaster and cutting board. If the man never cooked anything that wasn't from the freezer section, he would have had no need for it prior to today. "No, Phil, that's breast side down. Turn it over."

This was going to be a long day. At least he was cute.

"Now what?" Phil asked, looking at her once the chicken was facing the right way.

She turned to the counter and took a deep breath before picking up the kitchen twine. "Turn it so that the butt's facing away from you. Now, I know this sounds complicated, but once you get the hang of it, it's really not. This is how you truss a chicken. You do this so that it cooks more evenly, instead of drying out one part of the chicken while cooking the rest. If you don't, hot air circulates inside the cavity and will dry out the breast before the legs and thighs are done. If you want juicy breasts, you've got to tie it up. All right?" Her gaze lifted to his and she paused a second, startled by how intently he was looking at her. Clearing her throat, Ann picked up her kitchen shears and cut off a long piece of the twine before handing the roll to Phil. "Cut off a long piece."

When Phil cut off a piece that was probably a little too long, she simply shook her head and went about showing him how to tie the chicken up. "If you don't want to truss it every time, you can always make stuffing or just shove a lemon and onion inside of the chicken." She turned her chicken around so that the butt was facing away and motioned for him to do the same. "All right, now. It's sort of like tying your shoes, for the most part. It just happens to have a chicken in the middle. The string goes underneath the butt, then you criss-cross them over the top."

Phil seemed to have gotten the hang of it so far, so she continued, showing him what to do on her chicken, but slow enough that he could follow along. "Now, put the strands under the legs before pulling it tight. See?"

"So sort of like a girl crossing her legs," he said, giving her a smile.

Laughing, she shook her head and continued on. "So, put your fingers on the cutting board, then guide the strings to the top of the wings. Flip it over so that the butt's facing you." She watched as Phil fumbled with the chicken, smiling as he cursed when the slippery bird nearly fell off the table. "Need a hand there, Phil?"

"No, I've got it… I think." He managed to get the strings to where they needed to be and she looked it over, just to make sure, then nodded. "Good. I never realized tying a chicken up meant I got to have juicy breasts." He raised an eyebrow and gave her that stupid crooked smile again and she felt herself blushing, which she normally didn't do. "So now what?"

"Um." She cleared her throat again. "The way that I was taught this was to say 'once, twice, three times a chicken' as you loop one string over the other three times."

He burst out laughing and said, "Seriously? Three times a chicken?"

"Yes, seriously!" she laughed, showing him how to catch the neck of the chicken in the knot, pulling hers tight. "My teacher was obsessed with Lionel Richie and would threaten to smack anyone who didn't refer to the neck knot as three times a chicken." She reached over and opened the knot for him. "Here. Now, you put the neck in, and then pull it tight until you hear a small crack… Ow! Not that crack!" As she tried to yank her thumb out of the knot, she laughed and looked up at him. "Come on, let go of my finger." She realized then just how close she was to him. Kissing distance close. And he was looking right at her mouth.

He seemed to realize what he was doing, because he fumbled the knot back open so she could have her thumb back, his own cheeks turning a light pink as he mumbled, "Sorry… Didn't realize your thumb was in there." God, how cute could one grown man possibly be?

"It's okay," she said, giving him a smile. "I didn't mind. So anyway, back to the chick—"

He was kissing her. His hands were on her hips and he was kissing her. He tasted like peppermint and coffee and chocolate and he was kissing her.

Her eyes shot open and she put her hands on his chest, clad in that ridiculous WWE apron, and she pulled back a little bit. "Phil, I don't think we should…" she admitted, even though she wanted to keep kissing him. He was really cute, but… They had raw chickens on the table. If they didn't get them in the ovens, they'd spoil. Besides, he'd paid for cooking lessons, not to make out in her kitchen. The way his face fell when she said no made her heart twinge, but he nodded and stepped back.

"Okay." He looked down at his chicken, then gave her a sideways glance. "Maybe once these little guys get in the oven?"

She blushed and helped him fix his truss strings, which had come loose during the kiss. "Maybe," she agreed, tying off her own strings before motioning for him to do so. The excess strings were cut off and tossed into the trash behind them before she continued, "So now you tuck the wing tips inside, so that they're protected. Turn it over so that its belly is facing the ceiling and push the breast" oh good lord, she was blushing again "tip down. This makes it cook more evenly. Got it?"

"I think so," Phil said, fumbling a little with the wing tips before he turned the chicken over to tuck the breast bone down. "So which bone am I looking for again?"

"The breast bone."

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"Phil, if you ask me to say that one more time, I'm going to go get my wooden spoon and smack you with it."

"All right, all right," he laughed, winking at her as he pushed the breast bone down. "So what comes next?"

She looked over the supplies that he'd brought, glad to see that the only thing he'd forgotten was his apron. "Now I want you to take your kosher salt and rain about a tablespoon of it down onto the chicken. That'll make the skin nice and crispy as it roasts. You want the oven to be preheated to 450, so it's usually best to turn that on before you start handling the chicken at all," she explained, picking up her ramekin of salt. "Also, if you decide you like cooking and want to do it more often, if you're going to do something with a lot of ingredients or prep, it's a good idea to set everything up before you start."

"So sort of like if you're going to use sex toys with your partner, to have them there, so that you're not running around looking for the dildo while she's losing interest."

Turning to him, she put a hand on her hip and gave him a look. "If you keep talking like that, I really am going to get the wooden spoon. But yes, sort of like that, minus the sex." She covered her chicken with the salt, making sure it was even across the bird's body, and motioned for him to do the same. "You want to make sure it's even so that you don't get a giant clump of salt in one bite and no salt in another. Add as much or as little pepper as you like, but put it on the same way, in an even coat."

Phil added some pepper to his chicken, then a little more before putting the shaker down. "What else?" he asked, giving her a smile. Jesus, did he know what that crooked smile was doing to her? He had to. A man that good looking just could not be oblivious to his effect on women.

"That's it."

"That's it?"

"That's it. My friend, you just prepared your first roast chicken." Ann couldn't help but laugh when he did a little dance in place, shaking that cute little butt. "Okay, pick up your chicken. Now, you said you want juicy breasts, right?" That damn smile came back and he nodded, kissing her forehead. "So, the other way you can ensure that is to put the bird breast side down in the pan. You could also wrap the breast with bacon, or stuff some butter between the skin and the meat. I normally marinate my chickens overnight as well, since that gives it a lot more flavour." Picking up her bird, she settled it in the roasting pan on its stomach, then moved over to the oven, opening the door and sliding the pan in.

As Phil did the same, albeit less neatly, he asked, "And how long do these have to cook?" He saw that she was setting the timer on the oven as he put his bird into the top oven. "Just forty-five minutes? That's not too bad."

"It depends on the weight, but that's about when I start checking on it. You can baste it if you want, but I think that creates steam, so I don't like to baste." She stepped over to the kitchen to wash her hands and gave him a grin over her shoulder. "I typically work on the side dish while it roasts, but I have a feeling I might be a little preoccupied today."

He moved over to her and slid his arms around her waist, washing his hands quickly before giving her a quick squeeze. "I'd be inclined to agree," he admitted as she turned around to face him, leaning against the sink. "So, Miss Teacher, should we get the side dish ready or do something a little more personal?"

"Well, Mr Student," she smiled, her hands resting on his hips, "I think we should clean up the kitchen before we do anything else. What do you think?"

With a groan, he nodded, but pressed himself against her and leaned in for a soft kiss. "Okay," he murmured, bumping her nose with his. "Tell me where everything goes?"

The clean up only took a few minutes, but with Phil's flirting and her responding, it could have taken much longer. She'd finally been forced to brandish her wooden spoon, something she kept mainly as a threat to a friend of hers who wandered into her kitchen from time to time, and he'd been a good boy and finished cleaning up.

"C'mon you," she smiled, taking him by the hand and leading him into the living room, where she sat him down on the couch before climbing into his lap, straddling it easily. "I think you should know that I don't do this with all of my students."

"You mean you don't start talking about juicy breasts and legs and thighs and kiss your students and then climb into their laps while the thing's cooking?" he asked dryly, his hands moving up her sides to cup her tits through her shirt and apron. "I think we need to lose this apron… It's just getting in the way."

Laughing, Ann reached back and untied the waist straps before pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the floor. "You mean you don't like the image of a naked girl in an apron? Really? I think you're the first man I've met who doesn't," she teased, leaning in for another kiss just as he groaned, his cock hardening underneath her.

"That's actually really hot, I'd never thought of that before. You're so putting that apron back on when I'm done with you," he said, his voice rough as he leaned in to kiss her again, one strong hand cupping the back of her head, the other resting on the small of her back. Her hands were on his shoulders, drifting down to his chest before she looked down, chuckling softly when she realized he still had his apron on. "What? You're the one who said something about a naked girl in an apron."

She shook her head and stole another soft kiss. "That's not it. It's just that this apron looks good on you. You have the muscles to fill it out," she admitted, one hand trailing down his chest, fingertips running along the lines of his abs. "Maybe I'll call you Macho Man while you fuck me." Smiling, she kissed him again, reaching down to undo his belt. "You have a condom, right? I have some in the bedroom if you don't…"

"Fuck, if you call me that, I think I'll have to GTS you," he breathed, kissing her again, thrusting up as she worked on getting his jeans down before he simply rolled her over on the couch, laying her down on her back and resting on top of her.

She groaned when he rocked down against her, her hands pulling her skirt up as he fussed with his jeans. "What does that even mean?" she asked, pushing her panties down and managing to squirm out of them without kicking Phil in the face. "Is that some sort of weird sex talk?"

The look on his face was strange, as if he was confused about something, but he smiled and kissed her softly, his hand brushing the inside of her thigh. "Don't worry about it," he said, leaning down to kiss her thigh before he tugged her shirt over her head. "You're beautiful." It probably would have sounded like a line coming from anyone else, but for some reason, she believed him when he said it.

He kissed the side of her neck and quietly asked, "Do you let guys with beards go down on you?" as he gently brushed the back of his knuckles over her clit, sending a shiver down her spine. There was a moment's hesitation before she shook her head, her hands sliding down his arms, somewhat astonished at how muscular they were under her hands. Was this man a bodybuilder or something? "That's okay… I can always shave for next time, if you want there to be one." He smirked and kissed her again before pulling his apron and t-shirt off, revealing a gorgeous chest, a canvas like body that was filled with various interesting tattoo's.

She couldn't help it. She just had to reach up and touch him, her fingertips ghosting over the tattoo over his chest, the one on his right pec. Her hands moved to his arms, touching the tattoos he had there. There was a sudden, overwhelming urge to push them off the couch onto the floor and pin him down so that she could lick his tattoos. When the urge didn't disappear by the time he kissed her again, she decided to just go with it. She pushed up, manoeuvring them off the couch so that he landed on the floor next to it and she landed on top of him.

Thankfully, the couch was somewhat low to the ground anyway.

"That's not fair," he laughed, sliding a hand through her ponytail. "I wanted to be on top."

She smiled and settled in his lap, wriggling against his cock. "You can be on top later, big boy. I am your teacher, after all," she smirked, leaning down to nip at his bottom lip before she shifted down to the tattoo on his chest. There was definitely truth in her best friend's assertion that she had an oral fixation. One of her favourite things to do to her boyfriends and lovers was bite and lick and suck at their skin. Her men tended to have hickeys all over. One boyfriend even wound up with bite marks on his butt one day because he was sleeping on his belly. "Any aversion to hickeys?" Her mouth closed on the tattoo, one hand finding his nipple as she felt his hand creeping between her thighs, a finger slipping inside of her.

Chuckling, he shook his head and slowly worked her pussy with his finger, admitting, "Nah, I'm not working right now, so there's no chance of me losing my shirt for the camera."

Okay, that confused her. She stopped mouthing at the tattoo and sat up, moaning softly as the change in position pushed his finger a little deeper inside of her. "What do you mean?" she asked, her hands sliding over his chest before she shifted to kneel next to him, getting his jeans off as he kicked off his sneakers. She knew she was ready, had been ready since he'd first kissed her over the chickens. She needed him inside of her now, and if she didn't get it soon, she was going to combust.

"Condom in my wallet," he said, and she pulled the wallet out of his jeans pocket, handing it to him. He pulled the foil packet out and handed it to her, but took her hand before she tore it open. "Look, I know you did a background check on me. Did you even look at it when you got it back?"

There was a brief pause before she admitted, "Honestly, no. The only part I looked at was the criminal report. Why? You're not a porn star or something, are you?"

Phil suddenly laughed and rubbed at his face before shaking his head. "No, I'm… It's not porn. I, uh. I'm a professional wrestler. The reason I was so amused at you handing me the WWE apron is because well, I wrestle for the WWE."

Ann stared at him. "Wait, oh my god, Punk? CM Punk" she asked, her heart suddenly feeling like it was going to pound out of her chest. She had CM Punk naked on her living room floor. She was about to have sex with CM Punk.

Good fucking god, she was about to have sex with CM fucking Punk.

"Yeah," he admitted, giving her a sheepish smile. "Still wanna go through with this?"

Nodding, she ripped open the condom packet, took the latex out, and rolled it down onto his cock before she pulled her skirt off and climbed into his lap, slowly sinking down onto his dick. "What do you think?" she gasped, her back arching as the man's cock filled her. "God, you're so big…"

His hands came to rest on her hips and he asked, "Did you really not know who I was?" as he rocked up into her, meeting her as she started to move on his lap.

She shook her head, reaching down to take his hands, guiding them up to her breasts. "I didn't… I thought you looked familiar, but I didn't know where from," she admitted, giving him a shy smile.

"So why did you look so shocked when you answered the door?"

"Because you're really fucking hot? Have you not looked in a mirror lately?" she laughed, leaning down to kiss him as she kept moving her hips, rocking on his cock, driving him in and out of her slick folds. "You feel so good inside me, Phil."

His hands on her breasts were wonderful, strong, but still gentle. She knew he wouldn't hurt her unless she asked him to, and maybe not even then. She didn't know how she knew; she just did. There was just something about Phil that set her at ease that made her feel so comfortable around him. She never did this. The last time she'd had sex was the night before she and her most recent ex had split up. They were still friends, for the most part, but they just hadn't been meant to be together.

Phil's hands moved down to her hips, guiding her on his lap, and she looked down at him, giving him a smile. "What, no comment about how good looking you are?" she teased, leaning down to kiss him, resting her elbows on either side of his chest, her ponytail sliding over her shoulder as she continued rocking on her knees, enjoying the way he felt inside of her.

"Yeah, no comment on that," he smiled, kissing her again as his hands drifted to her ass, gripping it firmly. "You feel amazing, sweetheart." One of his hands moved to the back of her head, holding her in a slow kiss as he thrust up into her, drawing a whimpering moan out of her.

This was amazing. She had never had sex with someone as classically good looking as Phil. She'd never had sex with a famous person. She'd never had sex with one of her cooking students. God, she hoped this wouldn't be the only time. He was signed up for three more sessions with her, so maybe…

Before she knew it, her hips were rocking harder, driving herself down onto his hard cock. His mouth found her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth, his hands pressing her against him, and there was a brief moment of clarity, where she thought, "What exactly am I doing here? Why am I having sex with a man I met less than an hour ago on my living room floor? Why am I thinking about a second time when he probably won't even stay for dinner?"

Then it was lost as her orgasm ripped through her and she bucked, crying out his name, her muscles clamping down around his cock.

"Oh god," she panted, her arms suddenly going weak as her body stilled, whimpering softly, considering that he was still thrusting. His movements were coming faster and his moans were rougher. He was getting close and, just as she squeezed down around him, catching his mouth in a hungry kiss, he came, thrusting up into her, one hand on her back and the other on the back of her head.

As much as she didn't want to move, she knew she had to. It couldn't be very comfortable for him to be lying on his back on a hardwood floor with a girl on top of him. Not that he'd complain, probably. Still, they had to take care of the condom no matter what, so as she kissed him again, smoothing a hand over his hair, she carefully pulled off of him. She watched as he gently (he had to be sensitive, since he'd just come) took the condom off and knotted it, looking around before she took it and tossed it into the tiny pink trash can she kept next to the sofa. After a second's thought, she reached up onto the coffee table and grabbed a couple of tissues, handing them to him, one eyebrow raised questioningly. He took them and dabbed at his cock, cleaning up the remnants of the come.

After he tossed the tissues in the general direction of the trash can, he rolled onto his side and held an arm up, which she took to mean that he wanted her curled against him.

So she did.

She laid back down next to him, snuggling close to that warm, tattooed chest, and leaned in for another kiss. "Hi," she smiled, nosing at his chin. "You doing okay?"

"Hi, yourself. I'm fantastic," he laughed, kissing her forehead. "How about you? You all right?" His hand ghosted over her back, one leg hooking around hers, holding her as close as he could. Yeah, this guy was definitely a cuddler. In fact, if his chicken turned out all right, he might even have qualified as a keeper.

"I'm great," she smiled, her fingertips brushing over the tattoo she'd been sucking on. "I honestly wasn't expecting this to happen today. I mean, the class is one thing, I knew that was going to happen. I wasn't expecting you to be such a good looking guy, or so funny." She paused, thinking about something, then looked at him. "You're not married or anything, right? Because if I just helped you cheat on someone, I might have to smack the shit out of you."

He just smiled and toyed with her ponytail before brushing his fingertips over the curve of her breast. "I'm very much single. I don't normally date, to be honest," he admitted. "It's hard to find girls who aren't just into me because I'm a wrestler or because I have a good body." His hand wrapped into her ponytail before he sighed, "It just felt right with you. Feels good. You know?"

Nodding, she stole another kiss and pulled him a little closer, kissing the corner of his mouth, the lip ring tingling against her own lips "I know. But, all things considered, I think this class went very well."

There was a brief moment where he just looked at her before he burst out laughing and pulled her in for another kiss, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "You're adorable. I'm so glad I saw the flyer at the grocery store," he grinned, stealing another kiss.

"Yeah, I was wondering about that… Why are you taking cooking classes?"

"Oh, it was my mother's idea," he sighed, rubbing her back. "She thinks I need to learn how to cook for when I start dating again, so that I'm not constantly taking the girl out for dinner or to her place or having the girl cook." Shrugging, he stretched a bit before rolling onto his side, facing her, his head resting on his palm. "Do you think I did okay?"

She thought for a second, then shrugged. "I agree with your mom. Everyone should know how to cook a little bit. As far as if you did okay, I don't know yet. We have to pull your chicken out and see how it tastes. If it's horrible, then you failed. If it's awesome, then you did great and can take it home to your mom, like 'Look what I did today!', back in third grade."

The look on his face was suddenly quite serious and she wondered if he was going to ask her to stop teasing him, but instead, he asked, "If my chicken is horrible and I failed, am I going to be punished?" She had no idea how he kept a straight face, because she laughed.

"If your chicken is burnt, dry as a bone, or otherwise inedible, Mr Brooks, then yes, you will be punished. I will get the wooden spoon out and spank you."

He grinned. "And can I spank you after, since you clearly wouldn't have taught me well enough?"

Blushing, she looked away from him. "Maybe. We'll see."

He gently nudged her chin back up and leaned in for a kiss, but the kiss was cut short when the timer on the ovens started beeping. Groaning, he flopped down onto his back, rubbing at his face. "So I guess this means I have to put my apron back on, huh?" he asked before he sat up.

"Exactly," she smirked, standing up and grabbing his apron, tossing it to him before she pulled her own on. She'd made a crack about a naked girl in an apron. It was only fair to follow through. Besides, as she watched Phil stand up and pull his own apron back on, she realized that there were much hotter things than men in short trunks that she forgot about after watching the latest Monday Night Raw.

There were naked men in aprons, in her kitchen, who'd just taken her on the living room floor.

With that in mind, she took his hand and led him back into the kitchen, hoping they could at least get the side dishes prepared without him bending her over the table for round two.

After grabbing potholders and taking her chicken out, she cut a slice in the thigh. "When the chicken's done, there'll be no pink in the centre. See?" she said, showing Phil the cut she'd made in the chicken, where the meat was all white and cooked. "Go on and take yours out and see if it's done."

"It is out."

"Not that, the chicken, you big goof."

"Oh, right," he grinned, stealing a kiss before he took the potholders and took his chicken out, careful not to spill any of the juices that had cooked out of it. "This smells amazing, by the way. I hope it tastes as good as it smells." Considering that the bird looked perfect, she hoped so, too. As playful as she could be sometimes, she wasn't really in a spanking mood today. Ann watched as he cut the thigh, parting the meat with the blade. "It looks okay to me, I think… You?"

She peered at it, nodding slowly. "Looks all right. As long as it's not overcooked, which it shouldn't be, you have successfully made your first roast chicken!" she grinned, patting him on the back. "And you fucked your teacher, too, but that won't get you any extra credit."

His shoulders fell and he looked at her. "Aw, really? Damn, I was hoping for at least a lollipop." Grinning, he watched as she moved her chicken from the roaster to a serving dish, setting it aside.

"Keep smiling at me like that and I might play with your lollipop," she smirked, brushing the back of her hand over his crotch as she walked past him toward the pantry.

His arms slid around her from behind and she felt his lips, warm against her ear, his cock, already perking up again, pressed against her butt. "That a promise?" he asked, his voice low.

"It is, as long as you keep being a good boy in my kitchen," she smiled, leaning back to kiss him, one hand cupping the back of his head, rubbing herself against him, only the thin material of the apron separating them. "Will you listen to what I say and not just focus on the hot chick in nothing but an apron?"

He groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "I'll do my best," came his muffled reply. "No guarantees, though."

"Well…" she pondered, turning in his arms, kissing him again, one hand slipping under his apron to toy with his cock, drawing a soft moan from him. "I suppose the side dishes can wait until next class… Do you agree?" He nodded emphatically, sucking at the skin of her shoulder as he thrust into her grip. "Good. Because I want something else."

She slipped down to her knees and lifted the apron out of the way, looking up at him with a smile before she took him into her mouth.

"Fuck," he gasped, his hand cupping the back of her head, the other grabbing the counter for support.

He was beautiful from this angle. That broad chest, his strong thighs… It was no wonder Ann was enjoying herself nearly as much as he was. Still, there were so many other things they could do together. Hopefully he'd be game for a couple of others at the next lesson. In fact, she was sure he would be.

She couldn't wait.