Barefoot Confessa part 5

Miguel, still sitting on his hot gooey throne wiggled his Melting Pot 31x34s down to his knees and revealed his impressive manhood through his 2xst y-back thong. Only Ina knew his secret. Miguel had made millions by tricking rich East Hampton women that he was gay and overcharging his clients for his centerpieces. It was hard living the lie at first, but he soon got used to wearing thongs.



Still bent over and facing her oven she peered between the small space between her legs and caught a glimpse of his enormous latino beef snake."Man, I feel like a woman" she said breathlessly. Ina's slacks slipped over her ankles. She loudly shuffled her kitten heals over the cream colored ceramic tiles and moved slowly ass-first towards Miguel's engorged meat monster. I mean geeze, that thing is huge. Her heart raced, and by now the awkward moment with TR earlier was a distant memory and now replaced with a slight aching in her left lower abdominal area, which in all fairness might've been that tub of Green Goddess dressing that went slightly off but had for breakfast anyway.

"Boooop. Booooop. Booooooop" Ina said, sounding like a backing up Whole Food's delivery truck hoisting its sumptuous payload into a loading dock.

Miguel giggled coyly like a nervous geisha on payday. Ina always knew how to get him to laugh. And oh how he laughed. All hard and junk.

Just then, the unmistakable sound of a Saab 9000 convertable parking in the cobblestone driveway.

"Jeffery!" they both shrieked.

Barefoot Confessa part 4

With a gutteral moan she pulled her shirt apart bursting the buttons on her pressed button-down revealing an identical navy pressed button-down which she burst apart with an even more intense gutteral moan. Her womanhood now freed from the confines of the custom made long sleeve polo swayed and jiggled like an aspic covered vegetable terrien on a banana hammock. She stared at Miguel with an intensity she usually reserved a good unsalted butter. God damn she loves butter.
Without losing eye contact she slowly dipped her hamhands into the Outragous Brownie batter mix and smeared it all over her milky-white milkmakers. An ample pantry, indeed.

"Momma made a mess" Miguel said.

Ina, putting one sausage-like index finger to her pouty bottom lip flatly replied "How embarrasing".



Miguel, like a lynx in heat, bounded over the counter and landed ass first into a hot plum cake tatin. The carmel burned his sensitive man-ass, but he never felt so...so alive.

"Momma made you a big bowl of lemon fusilli with arugila, how bad could that be?... if you know what I mean."

Miguel grinned widely. He knew. Oh good Jesus above, how he knew.

Ina turned around from Miguel and faced her giant double capacity convenction oven. Slowly pulled her elastic slacks down to her knees, bunching over her red kitten heals.

I think you sat in some of your batter". Miguel smirked.

"That's not batter" Ina peered over her left shoulder with a wink.

Miguel licked his chops in anticipation.

Barefoot Confessa part 3

She quickly stripped her button down shirt, put it straight into a silver flip top garbage can, and put on an identical pressed navy button down shirt. She moved quickly as she possibly could to the back garden.

20 minutes later when she got to the back garden there was Miguel, visibly shaking . She stood face to face with him. It felt like minutes of silence before he said anything.

He whispered, "I'm not here to make you a tablescape-" Before he could go on he felt the cold hard sting of the back of her hand across his face. Her wedding ring left a deep cut in the side of his cheek. "You know that word drives me crazy." She pointed with her impeccably manicured (nude translucent polish-- Jeffery's favorite color) index finger with every syllable.


Inside the kitchen the oven timer sounded.

"Miguel, look. Lets just go inside. I've got two plumb cake tatins baking. And I'm about to start today's batch of Outrageous Brownies. So lets not fuck around, 'aight?". She then smiled and caressed his uncut cheek.

"There, there. I wouldn't hurtchya. Now follow me inside"

Inside she watched her three types of good imported chocolate melt slowly over a double boiler. She loves melting chocolate, making it succumb to the heat and the paddle, watching the butter slowly incorperate. It makes her feel, in control. "Ina.... Ina!", Miguel broke her from her revere. "I need to tell you.... that... " She lifted one eybrow as she combined the other ingredients.

"The coffee, miguel, the instant coffee I add gives this a real depth of
flavor."

"Ina this is important", Miguel pleaded. She continued, not looking
up, to add the dry ingredients spilling the mixture on the imported green marble counter Jeffery found in Italy on one of his many business trips. "You know what is important Miguel?" To give your 11x17 pan a rap against the counter it gets rid of the air bubbles".

"This is about Jeffery... " Ina rapped the pan so hard when she heard his name, batter flipped onto her shirt. "NOW LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!", she shrieked.

"Ina... no ... please Ina.. you need to calm down."

But, she couldn't.

Barefoot Confessa part 2 [Chargenda]

“Ina, why can’t I find a guy just like you?” TR had asked her.

“That’s so sweet TR.” Ina said as she licked the cake batter out of a bowl. “There are plenty of guys out there. But, really, there isn’t anyone?”

“Well, there is someone…” TR said and his voice just trailed off.

“Who?”

“Forget about it.” TR said.

As Ina hung up the phone from the conversation, Ina had a funny feeling in the pit of the stomach, but she wrote it off being due to the large plate of shrimp cocktail with her homemade cocktail sauce that she had earlier. She walked through her empty house, missing Jeffrey as she always did during the week



She decided to give him a call and check in on him. But, she got a busy single. Oh well, he would be home later that night.

Ina walked into her large walk-in closet full of pressed muted colored button-down shirts, collars already popped, and as she reached for one of the oversized shirts, she heard a loud noise from outside in the garden.

Barefoot Confessa

Chargenda and I are writinga novella about Ina Garten. Here is the first part and we'll keep posting it until we get bored or stuck or something.

So, without further ado, the first installment of Barefoot Confessa.



It was another typical East Hampton day. Ina stared out towards the
ocean, a warm breeze flowing through her Vidal Sassoon bob and her
popped collar on her (now sandy, wrinkled, and blood stained) navy
button-down caressed her ear lobe. She wasn't sure how long she has
been on the beach. She stared down at the sand and noticed TR's
square-toe Berluti remained half buried. "Shame to do this to such a
good shoe" she thought to herself and covered the rest of it with sand
and an overturned Chinese carry out box.
The sirens started to be more and more audible in the morning air.
"They'll be here soon", she muttered. She slowly removed her .40mm
from her beach tote.

To think that something simple, like surprising Jeffery with chopped
liver in good silver bowl would lead to all this. It was just two
days before her big beach party. Like school girls, she and TR were
gabbing on the phone, as they always do, every Friday.