Gay Sugar Daddy

6

Setting the temperature of the oven after sliding the tray with the giant chicken on it, I admire his back in awe. Mhmmm yummy.

"Do you know how to cook?" He asks once he turns around, now standing in front of the kitchen counter, facing me. Only this giant marble thing is separating the two of us.

"Not a pro but yeah, a bit." I'm from a middle class family, of course I know how to feed myself. It's not like we're blessed with a helper. But to answer with a confident yes doesn't seem like an option if we were to compare our skill level.

The pots and pans picture? The pose in his chef outfit while holding a knife? Well turns out he sells them and is the ambassador of his own brand. That definitely killed my laugh yesterday when I read about that fact. That company alone must have worth millions.

Besides having his own business producing all sorts of cookware, he also has five restaurants all over the world. But surprisingly, none in England. Weird, because he has been living there since he was 11, when he starts his training as a footballer.

Okay fine, I kinda dig a lot about him yesterday. That's why I feel like we're friends already.

"Do you wanna cook the sauce with me?" He's still looking at me but now has a sharp knife in his left hand.

"It's fine if you wanna watch too." And there it is, the infamous dimple joining us at the kitchen.

"I can stir or something." I shrug then walk to his side of the kitchen island. Now that we're closer than we've ever been, I can smell the masculine scent he has. Mhmmmm tempting, somehow tingles me at the forbidden parts.

"You're standing next to me now because you wanna press harder on the reason, not really into that stirring hm?" He murmurs which I laugh instantly, "Bingo!"

"I insist we talk over dinner."
"I insist we talk now."

"You might not have the appetite anymore once you hear it."
"Try me."

He takes a deep breath then puts down his knife, angling his body so he'd face me.

I'm lucky I'm born 5ft 9 because if I'm petite like my bestfriends, I'd have to tilt my head so high just to talk to guys his height.

Damn, he has the perfect height too? Why do you need to check all the damn boxes.

"I'm gay."

My eyes grow so big as I stop breathing, but two seconds later I'm bursting with laughter.

"Okay funny," I finally tone down my laugh as I bring myself to look at him again. But he is still staring at me like he had been when he told me that joke.

"Wait," uhh, "Really?"

He nods, "Really."

"You like... guys?"
"I fuck guys."

Oh wow, you really can't have it all can you. When he checks all the boxes, suddenly there's this big box he doesn't. The most important box, the top on the list.

"You're gay or bi?" Because there's a big difference between those two.

"I'm gay."

"You never fuck a woman?"
"I've never fucked a woman."

I take a deep breath as my brain starts to work what it's supposed to do; connecting the intel I've gathered. So that's why he is the famous 33 year old footballer yet he hasn't had even a single picture with an ex girlfriend? Because he's gay?