My Vegan Fetish

‘A table for one please’ I ask the waitress in a vegan restaurant. She looks at me pityingly, although there’s really no need for her to do so. In reality, I love having lunch on my own. And, with the way I work, sometimes it’s even preferable. 


I often treat myself to good food when I’m writing about sex. It has to be bursting with vitamins and natural goodness to meet my standards. I find that, when I eat, my creativity peaks and inspiration flows naturally. I also consider it to be a long-term investment in my health and the quality of my work; I’m making money while I spend it. Having my iPad and keyboard with me gets me out of the house at the very least. 


I go to different places to be satisfied, and inspired when I’m hungry. Today, I choose a restaurant that I’ve only visited once before. I met the owner the first time I was there. I explained who I was, what I did, and how much I’d like to shoot a video there about the subject of vegan aphrodisiacs. He was very enthusiastic about the idea. ‘The most important things in life are food and sex‘ he declared on the subject. I agreed, wholeheartedly. ‘I have an idea’ he continued ‘perhaps when we do this video, I can serve the root vegetables carved into phallic shapes?’


He is nowhere to be seen today, however, and the waitress shows me to one of the only free tables. She hands me a menu. I look at all the selections but, after 5 minutes or so, I’m still undecided. I’m not used to having so much choice. Eventually, I settle on the green salad and quinoa. This will be followed by roasted vegetables for my main course. 


I take my iPad and keyboard out of my bag and I begin to write an article about oral sex. While I build up an appetite, in preparation for putting food in my mouth, I let my mind wander. I imagine flicking my tongue across the tips of the owner’s specially prepared vegetables. I wonder if their shape will be based on his own appendage. My earthy reverie is disrupted by the arrival of my starter. It looks delicious and I waste no time in taking my first bites. Then, the waitress returns with a serving of gazpacho. I’m confused.


‘But I didn’t order this.’


‘It is by compliments of the chef’ she explains and indicates the direction of the serving hatch. I look round and see the chef peering out, his white overalls accentuating his olive skin. Then I recognise him. He is both owner and chef it seems. I nod at him and he smiles back.


I must confess that gazpacho has never been a favourite of mine. Although I try a little, just to be polite, I’m pleasantly surprised nonetheless. It’s much better than I remembered; so much so that I gobble it down much more rapidly than nutritionists recommend for healthy digestion. Then, after the main course arrives, I can’t stop sighing between mouthfuls. The waitress brings me some other vegan tapas to try. Although I’m getting full, I still feel the urge to put more and more into my mouth. 


The owner emerges from his kitchen and arrives at my table. ‘Lunch is on me’ he explains ‘I’m so happy you came back.’ I can tell that he isn’t lying. The other customers begin to look over at us. The fact that he risks burning the food in the kitchen confirms his interest. He sits down briefly and discusses the different dishes I’m enjoying. Then, he returns to the kitchen only to reappear shortly afterwards. I know that I’m receiving preferential treatment and that the other patrons might not be getting the quality and attention that they are paying for. This makes me feel powerful and essential. I continue salivating as my thighs begin to twitch. I feel the need to cross my legs beneath the table. 


The truth is that authentic vegan men are few and far between. I’ve read all the literature about how great a vegan diet is for male virility. Apparently, they stay harder, have more stamina and taste better, although I have yet to verify this with my own eyes, fingers and tastebuds. In spite of this, I have to be honest and say that the restaurant owner is someone that I wouldn’t usually look twice at. Perhaps I’m distracted by his vegan credentials and seduced by his food. For a moment I’m swept away again by the Mediterranean delights on my tongue and I try not to close my eyes and moan. I am a slave to oral sensation and I’m barely in control.


The owner isn’t a great conversationist but the few things he does say, when he’s sitting with me, really get me going. When I’m not filling in his absences by continuing with my article, he takes the time to explain that his fruit and vegetables are sourced locally, that they are genuinely organic and that he takes great pains in the kitchen with their preparation. He speaks with confidence and passion and my libido can’t help but respond. When we discuss the taste of tomatoes, the throb between my thighs becomes unbearable.


Service concludes and he sits down and relaxes finally. I’m still eating. After a few minutes, I pluck up the courage and ask the all-important question. It’s one that all vegans anticipate having to answer:


‘So’ I wonder aloud ‘where do you get your protein from?’ 


We discuss the virtues of legumes, beans and hummus while I enjoy dessert. It’s some coconut and salted chocolate concoction. The mixture of sweet and savoury gets me throbbing even more. After a little more sighing, moaning and licking of lips, I wash everything down with a refreshing cup of peppermint tea.


I came to this place looking for nutrition and inspiration and I’ll leave with much more than I anticipated. Even though I’m not entirely sure if it’s him, or his food, that turns me on so, I know I’ll be back to find out.


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