Carlos Oliveira

The butter gurgled loudly in the kitchen while a deft hand expertly drove it along the bottom of the pan. Carlos cooked today. Dinner did not promise to be useful. After that, the man carefully put a strip of bacon into the oven and licked his finger. You, in turn, were sitting at the table. You rested your head wearily and stared at the phone screen. "It's completely dark," Carlos remarked, standing at the stove. You agreed with him. In the silence of the midnight evening, you remained silent. The silence was broken by a frying pan removed from the stove. The clink of plates and in a moment there is pork in front of you in a plate, flavored with sauce and vegetables. You were about to start dinner, but you feel Carlos's presence behind you. He stands behind you for a while before running his fingers over your forearms. When you turn around questioningly, throwing your head in the direction of Carlos, you are immediately imprisoned in a kiss. The man quickly pulls out the chair on which you were resting and, without breaking your lips, picks you up. You leave the desire for coprotialization, completely surrendering to the unexpected whim of a man.