Bake Day 2

He took me by surprise. I had just lifted the fruit cake out of the oven and was about to ladle the sponge cake batter into the second tin I had prepared when he came into the kitchen, stood behind me and held my wrist, not roughly but firmly enough to stop me working.

“Sinful Sunday tomorrow” he said. “I’m going to take a pic of you as my cake lady. But before I do…”

He reached under my skirt and pulled down my panties.

After a quick application of margarine from the tub his finger began exploring my cunt.

“Not now” I said half resisting “I am trying to bake.”

“You have baked. How many cakes do we need?”

“Charity bake day at work on Monday” I replied, the upward inflection in my voice betraying my uncertainty of my own arguments as two fingers propped deeply. I was wet.

“The second cake won’t need baking. I have always liked uncooked batter. Did you lick the spoon as a child?”

I gasped as he probed deeper and began to stimulate my clit with his other hand.

“Stop it, I’m trying to work, I’m trying to…”

He worked my clit harder and began to nibble my earlobes.

“Stop it…seriously I need to

He pushed his finger deeper into my wet cunt.

“Actually just fuck me.

I leant forward so that my hair dangled in the wet batter and he lifted up my skirt and I felt him go in. Our kitchen quickies are always hard and rough which is just  how I like them and he was soon finished finishing with a hard thrust that nearly pushed my face into a kitchen cabinet. I came with a moan and he stepped back spent and panting, fumbling to move his foreskin back into place. I stood up and felt his come seeping out of me and running down my leg.

“Get on the table”

I took my clothes off and lay on the table. He spooned the rich batter over me, massaging the mixture deliciously around my crotch, then kneading my breasts  with sticky cakey hands before standing back admire his handiwork. He washed his hands in the sink then took his phone and took a picture of me, lying there in batter, desperate for more of him.

He showed me the picture he had uploaded onto our blog, with the Sinful Sunday logo beneath it, inviting us to click and see the other sexy pics our fellow bloggers had posted..

Then he stripped, and came down on me licking the batter if my tits, off my stomach before burying his face in my crotch, working me with his greedy tongue. He moved his mouth towards mine and we kissed, the sloppy batter passing between us. .

Then he fucked me again until we were both a mass of batter and sweat and come and pussy juice.

I had a feeling we were going to enjoy showering together. And then I thought how thoughtful it had been of me to bake two cakes.

“I bet the fruit cake will be cold by now won’t it?” he said. “I’ll put the kettle on. I’m dying for a cuppa.”

Sexy Summer Book Club

I am pretty undisciplined when it comes to reading. I usually have seven or more books on the go at any one time, read on the loo, on the bus, while stirring porridge, often just a page or two at a time, before I put the book down and move on to something else. I do plenty of reading but seem to take ages to finish individual books.  It is not unusual for a book for a book to lie untouched for several weeks and, when I pick it up to resume reading, I find I have lost the thread.

For this reason, I am great joiner of book clubs. I regularly attend the Birmingham Feminists Book Club and have read some wonderful books by the likes of Sarah Waters, Maya Angelou and Angela Carter. Book clubs make you read to a deadline and think about what you are reading so that you can contribute to the discussion.  In short, it gives you discipline.

Strange as it may seem, I don’t read nearly as much smut as I ought to.  So I thought that the Sexy Summer Book Club might be an opportunity. We began with the sexual reminiscences and reflections of Girl on the Net. Now I have known GoTN for a few years, having originally met her at Eroticon. I got to chat to her quite a bit as we were often to be found outside the building with the smoking crew. And bonding over a cigarette is a great way to bond, at least with people you are probably never going to go to bed with.

But I had never read very much of her writing. Partly this is because I don’t read a lot of blogs and things online. After a day in the office mired in Excel spreadsheets I just don’t like spending much time reading from screens in the evening. Book Club seemed like a good opportunity to make good the omission.

And I totally loved How a Bad Girl Falls in Love. The GoTN who came off the page was  the same GoTN I love smoking and drinking with. Witty and clever, with a sharp eye for the detail or observation that saves five hundred words, forthright in her opinions, a big personality.

Yet there is more here than opinion, humorous asides and fab sex (although there is plenty of all those). She also writes about her struggles with anxiety and low self-esteem and this, too, is something I can relate to.  I sometimes think it goes with the territory for those of us who became aware, possibly at a young age, that we were different in terms of our sexuality.  The journey away from shame and self-loathing towards an acceptance of who you are and the confidence to simply be yourself is a long one. And even when you find soul mates, in the kink scene or the sex blogging community, for example, the black clouds never quite leave you. Maybe life would be untroubled if all my sex was vanilla, if I didn’t know what a spreader bar was or a dildo?

But ultimately we are who we are. And in my darkest moments  I know that they are people lime GoTN  who will get me, will not judge, will give me love. Which I will reciprocate. Because that is one of the great things to come out of the book for me, the realisation that GoTN is not just a companion in nicotine and cider, but, in all her complexity, a soul mate.

I also understand where she is coming from sexually and why she likes the particular pieces of writing of mine that she does. And some of the writing in this book is hot. I read the book in the gym and had to interrupt my workout on one occasion to go to the Ladies and play with myself. And that, dear reader is the acid test, isn’t it?