Translated from Korean.
With his latest culinary experiment “Seed,” Renowned Chef Dong has done it again! Nestled in the basement floors of an unassuming apartment complex in the Gangnam District, this exclusive eatery aspires to be the most exquisite eating experience that discerning and deserving ladies can find.
I had the opportunity to dine there with three of my friends and I’m so glad I did. My best friend Grace had just turned thirty and we wanted to take her someplace truly special. We left our boyfriends and husbands at home — told them we were going out for BBQ of course — and set out for our 7pm seating.
Interested patrons should note that seatings are offered by invitation only. As you all already know, my father owns one of the largest cosmetic companies in the country, I personally own my own offshoot brand. Even still, I needed to call in a few favors. Then there’s the entrance fee: 11.8 million won per person. Cheaper than I expected for their preferred clientele but enough to restrict patrons to those who truly deserve it.
It feels good to dine without the rabble.
They sat us in our own private room on the second basement floor. The room was dark and windowless but still lit by pink and blue lights that were reminiscent of a night club. The center of the room consists of a large, specialized circular table. The design is fascinating! The center of the table is a cushioned bed that slants in towards the center such that the edges where we sat were higher than the center. At first it seems an interesting aesthetic choice, but it actually helps keep the “dishes” comfortable while also making them easiest for patrons to enjoy.
The four-course tasting menu begins with the East Asian Flight. Each patron is delightfully served with a bespoke carved wooden tray containing six shot glasses. The first set of three glasses contain Chinese baijiu, Japanese sake, and Korean soju. The second set of three contains the ejaculate of a Chinese, Japanese, and a Korean.
Per our conversation with our server, “Seed” has one Chinese, one Japanese, and one Korean in stock specifically for the preparation of the East Asian Flight. Each is fed with the traditional food of its home country to create rich and distinct flavors reminiscent of their particular country.
Oh, and the shots are served hot and freshly squeezed. 🙂
The Chinese load contains hints of Szechuan Peppercorn and Red Braised beef. I like spicy foods so this one was my favorite, but my friends all disagreed and claimed the Korean load, with its notes of kimchi, bulgogi beef, and japchae was the clear winner. If you ask me they’re just used to the tastes of their boyfriends and husbands but who am I to argue? None of us preferred the Japanese load with its heavy accents of Ramen soup broth but we still appreciated its distinct tastes.
All in all, this wonderful starter provided a comfortably familiar taste to prepare us for a meal that took us around the world.
With theee hearty drinks and three tasty loads down, we embarked upon the second course. This is where “Seed” really begins to shine. Four handsome young dishes entered our private room and each lay down on the angled cousins on the table in front of us. With their legs extended out at our sides, the upward slope away from the center of the table gave us the PERFECT angle to access our meals.
Our first dish was the Indian. Curried cauliflower and lentils served on the pelvis of a virile young Indian. My dish wasn’t much of a looker above the waist but thankfully I didn’t need to see its face, only its hips.
Before continuing, I want to point out “Seed’s” excellent health and safety standards. When I heard that chef Dong acquired dishes from indebted Korean and foreign migrant workers I was more than a little apprehensive. Everyone knows dirty people like that can carry all sorts of plagues and diseases. Thankfully all my fears were put to rest. Before we sat down, our server gladly provided us with up-to-date health screening results for each and every dish.
Being a good girl, I ate my vegetables before moving on to the meat. After being stuck with my boyfriend’s pitiful penis for years, this delightful dick made me yearn for my days as a single woman. I had seen longer, but where it fell short in length it made up in girth. My jaw was aching just getting the first few centimeters into my mouth. Since I couldn’t fit the whole thing, I thought I would be deprived of the best part of the dish, but as soon as I started licking the tip, the dish started shaking and a torrent of cum ejected into my mouth. I could swear my cheeks inflated there was so much.
There is something unique about the delivery of flavor from the tip of a hot throbbing cock. The Indian load with its deep bitter musk and accents of tomato and curry danced on my tongue, the effervescent aroma glided through my nostrils. In a single mouthful, I had been transported to a wonderfully distant land. By the time I loosened my lips and released the meat, I could swear I had actually traveled to India.
After each of us finished our dishes, a new dish representing a new cuisine was brought out to us: Peruvian pollo with penis, German Wiener schnitzel with wiener, and Siamese spring rolls with schlong. Each flavor was delivered with the same proficiency as the Indian dish. The four of us agreed: We hadn’t just sampled cuisines; we had travelled together on a spiritual journey to new and exotic places, got to taste and smell and breathe the same way women from these quaint cultures had for thousands of years. We didn’t just sample those places, we inhabited those places.
We also agreed we hadn’t sucked so many dicks in ten years LOL. Four dishes for four ferociously fine young ladies meant sixteen total, and we hadn’t even reached the main course!
Unfortunately, the entrees are where our meal hit a bit of a snag.
Everything started out great. Chef Dong himself came to tell us about the scrumptious snacks he had in store. For each patron, a manly muscular meal made from only the freshest locally-sourced ingredients.
“We took our trip around the world,” chef Dong told us. “Now it was time to come home.”
When they brought in the entrees I almost fainted. They weren’t kidding about locally sourced. Each of our dishes were definitely Korean but each had thick arms, toned muscles, and a monstrous cock. All except for one. The one given to the birthday girl. The one given to Grace.
I want to be clear my best friend is THE NICEST girl in the world. Her dish wasn’t as hot as she wanted but she didn’t want to send it back or complain. The thing is it was supposed to be her big day and she deserved better than to get some perfunctory pitiful prick. It wasn’t super small or anything but Grace wasn’t getting to suck the nice sized dicks the rest of us got. We told her she should send it back but she’s just too nice of a girl to complain.
Sadly, I wish she had.
So we’re all talking, eating our food, gently sucking on these dicks every now and then. (Astute diners will note that you get more juice at the end if you pace yourself rather than suck it all out quickly) Grace is slowly nursing hers while listening to our other friend tell a story. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, with no permission or justification AT ALL, her dish…… moaned.
Like, actually moaned.
Like, actually had the nerve to interrupt our PRIVATE CONVERSATION with its gross, pathetic. unwanted noises.
It was so inappropriate. Again we asked Grace to complain to the server and have a fresh one sent out and again she blushed and told us she was fine with it and didn’t want to make a scene.
Still, it gets worse.
A few minutes later she’s gently sucking on that poor excuse for a dick and intently listening to the rest of our friend’s story WHEN SUDDENLY THE DISH RAISES ITS HAND OFF THE TABLE, GRABS HER HEAD, AND PULLS HER FACE DOWN LNTO ITS COCK.
It all happened so fast. Maybe just a few seconds. The dish gyrated its hips, pushing against poor Grace’s head before yelling something like “oh god damn” and then silence. Dead silence. Silence while we’re listening to Grace’s throat expand and contract, watching her gulp down the juice before she was ready.
When it finally let go of her, we were livid. Grace is entitled to eat her meal however fast she wants. Nothing, and especially not HER DISH, gets to force her to eat faster. Once again Grace insisted that it still tasted good and that she didn’t want to complain, that her husband does it to her all the time.
You better believe I complained. I didn’t pay top dollar for Grace to get the same pathetic experience she gets at home. I didn’t pay to have my bestie’s birthday ruined.
As soon as I pressed the call buttons to speak to our servers, the dish TRIED TO SPEAK TO US. I didn’t pay top dollar just to be spoken to by low class trash either. It cried to us about how poor it is, how it’s in so much debt, how it needs this “job” to survive, how it didn’t mean to fuck Grace’s face but couldn’t control itself because she is so pretty.
No one in our civilized modern society should have any sympathy for this behavior. If someone is poor, it’s because they are not willing to do the hard work necessary to be successful. My own father gave me *very little* help when I spun off my own brand and I managed to persevere through hardship to make it on my own. I could do it. Why couldn’t they? Also, working at a top tier establishment like “Seed” is a privilege for these people. If not in the employ of their betters, they wouldn’t dare set foot near such an exclusive establishment. If one is removed, a hundred will compete to take its place. With such privilege comes the responsibility of good service. Grace just wanted to suck and lick that little dick at her own pace. Instead she got some filthy hand on her head and a premature load straight down her throat. She didn’t even get to savor the taste!
Now, as those who frequent top-tier restaurants know, the very best aren’t just evaluated on food, they’re also evaluated on service. I’m happy to report that, in the service category, “Seed” demonstrated that they belong in the top of the top tier.
As soon as our servers heard the commotion from our dining room, they rushed in, removed the offensive dish from our table and from the menu and offered Grace the most exclusive item on the dessert menu to compensate for her trouble.
Shy Grace tried to refuse again and again and insisted to the server everything was fine. This time we didn’t let her. We weren’t going to send her back home to her husband until she had the best damn birthday money can buy. We told the server that their exclusive dessert better be worth it.
Then the server whispered in Grave’s ear exactly what it dessert was.
Grace’s eyes lit up, his lips arced upward into a smile as she said “I want that.”
We asked her to tell us what it is but she slyly refused, laughing that we would just have to wait and find out. I truly had never seen Grace so excited.
After about another half-hour, our servers brought in the regular, included desserts for all of us: American A La Mode. Back to international foods. Four pale pink and porcelain dishes lay down in front of us. For each patron, two scoops of vanilla ice cream hand-mounded around the most gigantic testicles I have ever seen.
The trick with this dessert is that they don’t give you a spoon. You have to eat it with your tongue and mouth.
I thought it would be difficult for me but it was absolutely delightful! First you lick it and it tastes like regular ice cream, then you lick more and more some of that pale pink starts to shine through. Eventually you reach those naughty nuts that are so big they take up a lot of the space for the ice cream. 🙁 Once you have enjoyed the smooth shaved texture of the sacs, you reach very conclusion of the meal, the crescendo of the cooking, the coda of the courses: the extra salty load of pale white American cock.
Prospective patrons should be aware that white American cocks are thicker and veinier than the usual domestic cocks one can typically find in Korea. The paleness provides a clear view of muscles and veins can be off putting for some. I will say it was kind of exciting for all of us to relive our promiscuous college days studying with Americans before we had all settled down with our local boyfriends and husbands. As for the taste of the loads themselves, the super salty States’ semen serves as a superb counterpoint to the sweetness of the ice cream, a colorful contrast of flavors that danced on our tongues and marked the end of our meal.
At least for three of us.
As I mentioned earlier, the service at “Seed” is second to none. Chef Dong returned to our table, sat down with Grace and profusely apologized again for the earlier incident. He made it clear that the earlier dis’s atrocious behavior was so outrageous that it would never be served again. Grace, always so kind, polite, and understanding, thanked Chef Dong and reassured him she wasn’t upset but that she was looking forward to her exclusive dessert.
When they finally brought in Grace’s final course, I understood why she had kept it a surprise.
For my bestie, the most exclusive dessert at the most exclusive restaurant: American Double Chocolate Cock.
This dish was absolutely massive. Bulging muscles, arms thicker than most guys heads, at least 180cm tall. And every square centimeter dripping in chocolate sauce. It was all dark, So deliciously dark.
Unlike the other dishes that lay on the table facing the ceiling, this dish was served upright with its knees on the table, leaving a monstrous member, at least 20cm, pointing like a dark arrow right at little Grace’s face.
You gotta love a place that serves good food in big portions.
My favorite moment of the evening was seeing the beaming smile on Grace’s face when she realized that entire cock was hers alone for the taking. She ecstatically glided her head around inspecting every centimeter before slowly sitting back in her chair.
Grace placed her hands on the dish’s hips and leaned forward until her lips were on the tip. In her excitement, she clearly hadn’t thought about how she was going to eat this thing.
It ended up being so big that she just couldn’t work it into her mouth on her own. The rest of us were more than happy to assist, moving our chairs next to Grace and taking turns gently guiding her head forward and back so she could close her eyes, relax, and enjoy her meal. Her subtle satisfied moans as we melodically rocked her head back and forth were all I needed to know I picked the right place for her.
I almost felt bad for the dish. Grace’s small black-haired head practically vanished into its hips and well-toned quadriceps. We struggled to get her head even a third of the way down the shaft. Grace would need four heads with four of her tiny little pink-lipped mouths to maneuver that monster properly. Nonetheless the dish knew its place. Smiling… and silent.
We sat there for a good ten minutes taking in the atmosphere of our private dining room, the distant chattering and slurping of other patrons, the occasional faraway moan of a satisfied woman’s mouth filling with flavorful seed, and, of course, the wet sucking inhalations of air Grace could manage around the dripping edges of her prize.
Grace eventually raised her hands up to her head and gently removed our hands, allowing herself to move freely again. I was worried that she was tired and didn’t want to finish. But when she pulled her head off the dish, the long silky strand that connected her tongue to the tip of that steaming throbbing cock told a different story.
I’ll always remember how she giggled. “It’s about to burst.” Never change, Grace. 🙂
We told her she better put it back in her mouth. She didn’t. Instead, she used both of her hands to rhythmically tug the cock up and down, all while the tip was exposed and pointed at her face! We warned her she was going to spill her expensive dessert but she ignored us, stroking like crazy until the literal floodgates opened.
Remember when I said you get more juice when you take your time?
Creamy webs burst forth from the slit, flying in gravity-defying arcs through the air before splattering all over Grace’s face, hair, and blouse. After the fifth or sixth pump. there was so much that Grace raised her arm in front of her face to block it. When that monstrous cock finally softened, Grace looked like she had just come in from a storm.
Now, just to show how much of a boss my bestie Grace is: we asked her why she didn’t swallow it all like she was supposed to and instead decided to make a huge mess. (!!) She told us that she had greatly enjoyed her special birthday meal and wanted to share her dessert with her best friends. After all. she couldn’t share if she took the explosion straight down her throat. This way, we could all have some.
I’m not above licking my bestie’s face you know. 😉
The rest of us each scooped up a glob or two onto our tongues, leaving the rest for the birthday girl. I’ll gladly say once again that “Seed” nailed the flavor AND the texture. Thick, fortified, sweet but somewhat bitter, an overall gratuitous ganache that bookended a fanciful feast at a spectacular spot.
By the way, Grace had more than enough dessert left over on her to take home. Her husband is a big fan of sweets.
Final grade:
Overall I give “Seed” a solid 9/10. Six cocks and ten loads is a steal at the price point. With the one notable exception, the dishes were delightful, remained quiet, and understood that their place was on, and not at, the table. “Seed’s” top attention to detail and dining experience more than compensated for the incident during our meal, cementing “Seed” as an eminent erotic experience that you won’t want to miss.
If you can afford it. 🙂
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