Consequences of Baking

The rain was teeming down; my coat kept some of it off me, and my umbrella did an okay job of shielding me from the rest. I was standing by the side of the bus stop; the shelter itself was full of people waiting for their bus. There just wasn't room for me. Hopefully there would be room on the bus. If not, then I would just have to wait half an hour in the shelter for the next bus. Buses were always incredibly busy on rainy days like today. I would expect people to stay at home when it is raining, but it seems those were the days that people wanted to go out. Just like me, I was out, but I didn't want to, I had to go to the opticians to have an eye check.

"Mica, Mica is that you?" A voice called through the noise of the rain and the vehicle tyres swooshing through the puddles on the road. I looked around to identify who it was, and I caught eye contact, it was Bill from over the road from me.

"Oh, hi Bill, yes, it is me."

"Are you going back to the estate, only I can give you a lift if you are, saves you waiting for the bus."

"Oh, yes Bill, thank you, that would be brilliant."

"Come on, the car is in the car park just the other side of the precinct."

I followed Bill through the precinct, passed the opticians that I had just been to, and yes, I needed new glasses. My sight had changed for near vision, and down the steps at the far end and into the car park. As we approached his car, he pressed the key and his car blipped unlocked. I opened the front passenger door, furled my umbrella and quickly dived in out of the rain. I put my umbrella between my knees, hastily pulling the car door shut behind me.

Bill got in the driver's door and pulled it shut and started the engine.

"Bloody Nora Mica," he exclaimed, that is some weather."

"Tell me about it, Bill," I said, "when I looked at the forecast this morning it said possible rain showers, nothing about a monsoon."

"Oh well, at least we are dry in the car."

"Yes, thank you, I am sorry, but my wet coat will be dripping all over your seats."

"No worries, Mica, they are leather, they won't mind."

His wipers were going max and still didn't really clear the wind screen. I am glad I wasn't driving. Paul, my husband, had the car, our only car. He drove it to work, parked it in the company car park and it sat there all day until it was time for him to drive home. Anything I wanted the car for had to wait until the weekend or, like today, I caught a bus.

I had suggested that I drive him to work and then pick him up later, but that didn't meet with acceptance, it seems that he sometimes had to go out on behalf of his job and so needed the car. It occurred to me that they could always get him a hire car, but it was obvious that Paul wasn't going to entertain the notion of me using the car during the day and there was no point in discussing it further.

Bill pulled his car up onto my drive and I turned to thank him.

"Bill, you are a life saver, that was brilliant, thank you. Look, if you are doing nothing, come over and I'll make coffee and you can try a piece of my Madeira Cake, I only made it late yesterday, so it is still fresh."

"Mica, that would be great, thank you, yes I will."

"Well, give me twenty minutes, I am absolutely soaked to the skin, I need to change all my clothes. I will leave the front door on the latch so you can come straight in."

"I think I am the same, right then, see you in twenty," Bill said and I smiled and got out of the car and ran to my door. I stood in my porch unlocking the front door so that I could get out of the weather.

I left my coat on the banister, my umbrella I would open in the kitchen to dry, and I rushed upstairs and stripped. I wasn't quite soaked completely to the skin, but whilst the coat had kept the rain out, the humidity had permeated all my clothes. I felt damp. I stripped, and not wanting a shower, I wiped myself all over with wet wipes. Then feeling much more comfortable I simply slipped some knickers, a bra, and a dress on. Decent and presentable. I was just putting a comb through my hair when I heard the front door.

I forwent the lippie and went down to greet Bill.

"Hello, right, you survived the monsoon then?" I laughed as I walked to the kettle. I have no fancy coffee machine; it is instant coffee or tea bags in our house.

"Yes, I was quick running over the road, and I am only mildly moist."

"Right then, tea or coffee, Nescafe or Yorkshire, Paul doesn't agree with fancy drinks, so we only get the basics. I think if he ever actually went into a supermarket, he would discover their own brand stuff." I shuddered at the thought.

Bill laughed, "Nescafe is fine, thank you, and I think that you may have mentioned cake?"

I pointed over at the cake in its protective dome that was sat at the end of the worksurface. As the kettle was boiling, I got two side plates out of the cupboard and the bread knife from the drawer. I took the dome off the cake and cut two wedges, putting one on each plate.

"Do you want a fork?"

"You know, I may just be okay with my fingers, they evolved to make cake, and they are perfectly fine at eating cake."

"Good choice." I put spoonfuls of Nescafe in two mugs, added the just off boiling water and added milk from the fridge. Standard instant coffee. I slid a mug along the work surface to Bill and picked up my cake and coffee. "Come on, let's sit in the lounge," I said.

I sat on the sofa, Bill chose to sit opposite in the armchair, putting his mug of coffee on the little side table next to it. I had my coffee balanced on my lap and took a sip of coffee, ouch, I wished I hadn't done that, I should know better, it was too hot, my tongue would feel furry for ages now.

Bill took a bite from his cake, and after a moment's chewing he smiled and nodded.

"Good cake Mica, good cake."

"Thank you," I said, one thing my grandmother taught me was how to make cake. When I was a girl, I used to go to Grannies whilst Mum was doing the shopping, and we would make cake together. Gran has long gone, but I think that she lives on in my cakes."

"What a lovely story, thank you, yes, this is an excellent cake. Well done you and well done to Granny," he said and then taking another bite.

It is shame that Paul doesn't seem to appreciate my cakes, perhaps he does, he certainly eats them, but he never says that they are nice or even asks when I am going to make another one, he simply eats it if it is there. Oh well, perhaps he doesn't feel the need to make appreciate comments.

"Does Pauline bake?" I asked Bill as I took the last mouthful of my portion, Pauline is his wife.

"Sadly no, she doesn't do a lot of cooking at all. She is out at work during the week, and as I work from home, I tend to do the meals, getting them ready for when she gets home. And I have never tried making a cake, I suppose it is just so difficult."

"Gosh, no, I don't think so, but I have been doing it since I was a little girl. You just need some cake tins in terms of equipment, and then the ingredients are standard, self-raising flour, sugar, butter and eggs."

"Well, yes, nothing tricky there. I don't have the cake tins, but I can get those easily enough, I might have a go."

"Do, and then you can invite me over for cake. You will need some baking paper or parchment to line the tins, and when you buy the tins get eight-inch tins with a loose bottom, they are cheap enough."

"Okay, that is a date then, I shall make you a cake."

I smiled, it was pleasant just having a chat with someone, it so rarely happens these days. Paul is often tired when he gets home from work, and even though he tells me what is happening in the office, it is boring as I don't know any of the people involved. I see no one during the day and so have no conversation to feed back. We do talk about the TV programmes that we watch, but that is about it. Goodness, I just realised that Paul and I hardly talk anymore.

"You know," Bill said cutting into my introspection, "we could start a cake club, you know, take it in turns to make cake. Once I have got one right, you could suggest a different cake recipe for me to try."

Gosh. "Yes, well, once you have done the Victoria, I suppose a Madeira cake next and then a chocolate cake, those are the three basics, I bet Pauline will appreciate them."

"You know, I have no idea, I don't know if she likes cake or not. She never mentions wanting cake, so I don't know."

What a funny world that we live in, it seems that we are all so busy with our lives that we don't know the people that we live with. I suddenly found that quite sad. I was having more of a conversation with a neighbour than I have with my own husband. I looked across at Bill and was a little taken aback, his trousers were quite tented. Goodness, I wonder what had brought that on.

Sometimes I must work on Paul to get his dick hard, and here was a man I hardly know sitting opposite me with what seemed to be a hard on all ready. Goodness me.

"Pauline must like coming home to a cooked meal, you guys can snuggle on the settee and she can unwind," I said trying to take my eyes off the bulge.

"Yes, she is, and sadly too tired and wound up from work to even contemplate cuddling. Oh well, the pressures of modern life I suppose" Bill said and as he spoke his tent twitched. Goodness me, I got up and went across and picked up Bill's plate and mug. From closer his tent seemed impressive.

"Another coffee?" I asked.

"Please."

"More cake?"

"I better not, otherwise your husband will wonder what has happened to all the cake."

I didn't care what Paul thought. I went back to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on to boil. I turned to cut more cake and found myself face to face with Bill. I hadn't heard him follow me. There was one of those moments so beloved of film makers, our faces mere inches apart.

Bill stepped back.

"Sorry," he said, "I was just going to change my mind about the cake, I didn't mean to be in your face. I just seemed to forget to stop walking."

"I didn't mind Bill," I said taking a step closer.

Bill stepped closer, the gap between us now gone and I felt his dick as it nudged into my stomach.

"My cake seems to have had an effect," I said as I reached between us and held his dick. Bill shuddered and his eyes briefly closed as he gasped.

"Yes," he said softly, "but not quite as much as the view I had of your knickers stretched tightly over your fanny."

"Oh, well perhaps you would like a closer view?"

"God, yes," Bill said.

I released his dick and stepped back, hardly knowing what I was doing or why. Perhaps it was simply having some attention paid, who knows. I put my hands to my hem and pulled my dress up and over my head and dropped it onto the work surface. I stood before a man I hardly knew in my knickers and a bra. Bill stepped back and his eyes rove my body from head to toe, and he smiled.

"My God Mica, you sure have a gorgeous body."

He closed the gap and then fell to his knees; I could feel his breath through my knickers. My body trembled; my breath held in my throat. I gasped as I felt his tongue run over my knickers and press the fabric into my crease. God I was glad I had clean underwear on. His fingers went inside the waist of my knickers and gently he pulled them down, easing them over my knees down to my ankles. He tapped my left ankle, I lifted the foot, and he pulled the knickers off, they no longer constrained my legs.

His tongue eased between the lips of my crease, my legs automatically parting. He slipped between my oyster petals and my knees felt as if they would collapse. My breath came as a single gasp, and my pleasures began flowing so thickly that my whole body felt involved. I felt a finger beneath me, sliding along my perineum and circling my entrance.

"Stop, Jesus, Bill," I gasped, "please, let's go upstairs, it will be more comfortable."

And of course I would be less in danger of suffering from a knee collapse. The way my body had reacted to his touch made that a serious possibility. I turned away from him before he could go any further and headed out of the lounge and upstairs. I expected Bill would follow, I mean, how could he not.

In my bedroom I pulled back the quilt letting it fall to the floor. It mattered not; I would be washing the bedding later that was for certain. I put my hands behind my back and undid my bra, throwing it to my chair and missing, it too fell on the floor. Bill was standing just inside the doorway undoing his shirt. He let his shirt fall to the floor, it seemed there was a floor theme today. He undid his trousers and pushed them and his underpants down, stepping out of them and joining me on the bed.

I lay back letting Bill take the lead, his dick hard and pointing more upwards than Paul's did and looking very ready. His balls were huge, quite the largest I think I have ever seen. He lent over my groin and blew along my crease, my legs parted and I closed my eyes. Bill moved and settled between my legs, bending forward and his breath moving along my crease before his fingers gently eased my lips apart.

"Your fanny is utterly fabulous," he said before plunging in.

His tongue slipped between the folds of my sex, my oyster lips as Paul once called them, telling me that my fanny reminded him of a plate of oysters. Bills fingers once again found my entrance and as his tongue pressed at my nubbin. Bills fingers circled my entrance, gently pushing in a little with each lap. I was lost in the moment, what was I doing for goodness's sake?

I had never cheated on Paul, in fact, I had never even thought about it. What was it about the otherwise unremarkable man that had me naked on my marital bed with his tongue working my fanny? I gasped as two fingers eased into my fanny, pushing apart my walls. His other fingers laying backwards along my perineum, a slight tickle of pleasure emanating from my crinkle as his fingers began to widen inside me.

My pressures grew; I was feeling things I had not felt in a long time. Pleasures flowed along like flood waters in recently barren and dried out riverbeds. I was gasping, my back was tightening, my body arching, heels digging in in ways that I had forgotten. I was at risk of getting heel burn. I screamed, his teeth nipped at my nubbin and an orgasm erupted, exploding through my body.

This was not me simply cumming, this was an overwhelming blast of mind shattering pleasure. It was a sensation long forgotten, rarely experienced. I was left panting, my body bucking, my insides a raging mass of delights and pleasures. He let my nubbin go, simply licking it as I bucked beneath him. His fingers left my fanny which felt bereft, gaping, voided.

He sat up and then rolled to lay beside me. I gulped in air, my breasts heaving on my chest as I slowly began to land. I knew what was expected and I sat up and bent to his crotch. I licked the end of his dick, holding his balls in my right hand, pulling his foreskin down with my left. I licked around the small hole at the end of his dick. I then kissed it before running my tongue around the rim of his glans.

I could feel him twitching. I could hear his gasps of pleasure, far beyond the experiences that Paul seemed to experience. Perhaps it wasn't ineptitude by me then, perhaps it was something more. Had our marriage run its sexual course? I bobbed up and down on Bill's dick, shagging him with my mouth, my fingers softly squeezing at his balls even though they could barely contain them.

"Oh fuck," Bill gasped and his dick thrust into my mouth, spunk jetted from his dick.

Unprepared, it was all I could no not to cough, I sucked and swallowed and leant back. Bill looked at me and laughed.

"You have spunk dripping from your nose," he cried, "I have never seen that before."

I put a finger up to my face, and yes, there it was, his gloop dripping from my nostrils. I pulled a pillowcase from one of the pillows and blew his spunk out of my nose as if it were snot. I lay down beside him, he would need time to recover, and he put an arm over me. He was laying slightly on his side, a cuddle, I hadn't had a post coital cuddle in a very long time. Not that Bill and I had coitus, not yet. I reached down with my hand and found his dick, running my fingernail around his rim, Bill was breathing heavily, and his dick was growing, firming, getting hard and ready. It seemed his recovery period was short.

He pushed me onto my side and his dick nudged at my arse, and then further under and he was parting my petals, his dick entering me, coitus finally. He pushed in, my fanny widening, opening, accommodating, my breath again lost somewhere, my eyes open wide, staring ahead, focussed on nothing. He began to push harder and harder, his stomach pressing against my buttocks, parting them.

"Get on your knees Mica," he said slipping out of my fanny.

I rolled away from him and lay on my knees and elbows, my boobs hanging like pendulous fruit from my chest. I felt him settle between my legs and then his dick was between my buttocks, pushing against my crinkle, but that was not his target, his dick moved down, slid along my perineum. He crossed my fourchette, parted my petals and slowly eased back inside my waiting fanny.

Trembles in my fanny as his foreskin rolled back, his rim crossing my bumps and ripples. He was pushing deeper inside my body, stretching me, not thrusting in, but slowly and gently consuming me. I felt his balls between my thighs, and I felt his dick at my depth. He was totally inside me; he paused, filling me, letting me experience his girth and his length. My fanny felt as if it were simply and extension of him, and then he slowly pulled back, voiding my fanny, an emptiness where I had been full.

His dick slipped from me, danced between my petals and then slowly filled me again. His rim sliding along my soaking fanny walls, my walls offering no resistance. My fanny walls parting allowing his dick full access, and again I felt him at my depth. His balls were at my thighs, my buttocks stretched apart. He eased back, moving slightly faster, his dick once more leaving me. My fanny gaping open, gulping, my petals flapping, and then he pushed in, again not fast, but faster than before.

No sooner had he filled me than he was pulling back. I could feel his foreskin rolling along his dick. I could feel a pulse ticking in his dick, and then he was gone, playing at my entrance for a moment, and then pushing back in. Each movement slightly faster than the one before and then, hardly before I knew it, he had a rhythm and he was shagging me. My breasts were swinging, my mouth gasping as he bottomed out. A slap echoing around my bedroom and through the open windows as his stomach cracked against my buttocks.

His speed was increasing, faster his dick moved within me. His foreskin was an indiscernible blur inside me, the slaps almost a solid sound, my gasps hardly able to keep up. My pleasures a constant stream of delights flowing from my groin, pinching my nipples, tweaking my ears. My fingers clutching at the bedding, electrics fizzed and popped between my thighs and my pressures grew so that I could hardly breathe.

"Oh fuck" he gasped and thrust in harder, holding, pressing my buttocks wide apart and his dick spurted, his spunk jetting inside me. He was flooding my fanny, filling my uterus, spunk squeezing out along the shaft of his dick. I hardly noticed as my pressures releases as his spunk released and my second orgasm erupted.

I shrieked, my fanny clamped trying to wring out every drop of his cum. I was draining his dick, my orgasm scream echoing around the room replacing the silenced slaps. I was gasping, my back arching and my body bucking. I pushed back and then fell forwards, Bills dick falling from my fanny with a gurgle. As I fell forward, I twisted and rolled and lay on my back, legs apart, fanny wide, gaping and oozing spunk which dribbled down between my thighs.