Flour and icing sugar are sprinkled liberally on the counter and floor, I survey the chaos we’ve left in our wake. I should care, I don’t. My skin sticky from smears of jam and scatterings of icing sugar licked from my breasts. My whites lay carelessly on the floor.

It started off innocently, as these things often do. A cheeky comment, a flirty phrase, heightened tension in the air as we worked. Staying late to finish the cakes we had to ice I could feel the anticipation in my stomach. Of being together alone. Of being in the dim kitchen, just us.

The pretence was there, dust the counter with the icing sugar, roll out the fondant. Ignore the flirting, ignore the butterflies in my stomach. It had been so long since anyone touched me with the amount of care he used to stroke the fondant icing around the sides of his cake. He catches me watching.

“Learning from a pro?”

He raises an eyebrow teasing me, throwing down the gauntlet he laughs that infectious carefree sound I’ve come to love.

“You wish, the only pro in this kitchen is me”

I smirk back at him as I deftly trim the fondant from the base of my sponge. Feeling smug with my quick reply I fail to see the impending threat as he daubs my face with melted jam on his pastry brush. I gasp as he paints a line down my cheek.

“Bastard!” I exclaim laughing, I grab a handful of icing sugar and throw it into his dark hair. He grabs me round the waist to stop me getting more and I squeal with laughter. Suddenly we’re pressed together. Far too close. Our eyes just inches apart and the air crackling with electricity, or was that just my need?

Before I have chance to think his lips are on mine, warm and soft. Feeding the hunger, I’ve been feeling for so long. I kiss him back, my white powdery hands wrapping in his hair as he begins to pull my whites off. Frantically undressing each other, concern for being caught is lost in the haze of lust which has been threating to engulf us for weeks.

Finally stood in front of him naked, exposed to him. His eyes travel over my body and I shiver, he lifts me onto the counter and picks the pastry brush back up. Painting warm sticky jam across my naked breasts I moan at the sensation. Satisfied with his masterpiece he begins to kiss and lick his artwork away. His mouth hot and hungry, my skin aching for his touch. He pushes me back and parts my thighs.

My heart hammers in my chest as he slowly paints the brush up the inside of my thigh. I hold my breath as he gets closer and closer to my neglected clit. Catching our reflection in the dark windows, the strip light above me illuminating us like a spot light in the darkness. Captivated, I watch in the window as he traces the brushes path with his tongue.

“Please don’t stop”

Breathlessly I moan as finally, agonizingly he hovers over me. I feel the wet sensation of the pastry brush swirling jam across my clit. Moaning hard as my whole body begins to tingle, like he’s thrown a switch and my nerves remember what they’re meant to do.

His mouth closes over my swollen clit, finally giving it the attention it craves. I look down and see my icing sugary handprints in his hair. This feels like a dream… am I really being eaten out on my chefs table? Sensation crashes over me and I grab the sides of the table, as if the peaks and waves of pleasure might throw me off.

I lay there glowing whilst he kisses a trail up to my mouth, satisfied now I want to meet the challenge. And show him there is only one pro in this kitchen. I pull him up into my place on the table and push him back. Pouring the icing sugar into a large sieve I begin delicately coating him in the softest of powders. I watch him gasp as the sensation of the snow like coating begins to play on his skin. Travelling across his body I swiftly turn this vision of naked male beauty into the perfectly coated top of a Victoria sponge.

Teasingly I trace my tongue through the sugar. Leaving sticky trails on his skin and my face. Travelling ever closer to his cock, stood proud into the air like a candle on the cake. I watch his hips buck as I draw it out, making him wait, making him beg.

Finally, I settle between his thighs and dust the tip of his glistening cock. Watching the powder blend into his precum, icing his cock ready for me to devour. I slowly slide my tongue across his balls, enjoying his tormented pleasure. Zig zagging my tongue up his shaft, tasting the icing sugar on his skin I can’t wait any longer and swirl my tongue around his head, licking the cum laced icing.

His groan is enough for me to let go. I plunge his length deep into my throat. Need taking over as I suck him deeper and deeper. I feel his hands in my hair and glance up to watch myself in the window. The chefs table acting like a stage in this private show.

I reach my sticky fingers down to stroke my fingers between his arse cheeks and gently cup his balls. He rewards my attentions with a deep moan and thrusts his cock deep into my throat, making my eyes water and my stomach lurch. I hold him in place as his cock spurts hot, sweet icing infused cum straight down my throat. Hungrily swallowing every delicious drop.

We lay together on the destroyed chefs table, naked, sticky and sated. I eye the unfinished cakes on the side.

“Looks like another late finish tomorrow?”


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