Pink Cock Cake

I celebrate my birthday with family on one day and celebrate separately with my friends on another day. This keeps my two lives separate.

In the town I live in, there's a wonderful baker that makes simple sugar cookies to the most intricately designed wedding cakes.

Each and every time I've been in the bakery the baker comes out to the front, smiled at me, nodded, and said hello.

I frequent this establishment twice a week. Mondays for donuts at work, and Friday after work for the thumb print cookies for my mom. The large yellow bell above the door indicates a customer entering the bakery.

I have been doing this routine for eleven years.

My 45th birthday party was planned by my friend Judith, and she insisted we go to the bakery and have the hot baker make my birthday cake for my party.

Judith sat down with the baker face to face to stress on the main points for my cake. "No flowers. Just a simple chocolate cake with white frosting around the edges for thirty people."

I continue to nod my head yes, agreeing with her description. A bit taken in, because I've been creaming over the baker for eleven years. The baker smiled at his notes and shook our hands. "I have the perfect cake for you." He grinned.

I was born in January and during this lovely month the weather sucks big time, and that year wasn't any different. A winter storm came in at three in the afternoon. This bad weather caused traffic accidents and delays in driving time.

Judith messaged me that she was running late and still needed to pick up the cake. I, on the other hand was on time and the first one to arrive to my own party. I was dressed in my sexy gold dress, high heels and feeling ecstatic.

At seven o'clock, my guests began arriving and my birthday party began. Delicious food, great friends and strong drinks, create a fabulous celebration.

"Bring out the cake!" Judith chirped from her birthday planner throne.

A waiter brought the cake out on a platter. I instantly noticed the odd facial expressions on the waiters. With candles blazing, a waiter gently placed my birthday cake before me.

The gasps of every guest at the table were a blend of ewwwws and awwwws. Mine was a blunt response of, "Judith!"

"What?" She stood up and walked over to my end of the table and glared at my cake. "I said no flowers!"

She drunkenly sneered. "That's not the cake I ordered."

"Do you see anything else that shouldn't be there?" I glared at the cake.

All of a sudden, three of my friends began yelling at me. "BLOW IT, BLOW IT!" This creating an amusing round of laughter.

So, being the person I am, I blew. The candles went out with one blow, and I examined my 45th birthday cake.

The cake was a massive perfectly shaped pink skinned cock, resting on a bed of lavender colored flowers.

"He got my favorite color right." I chuckled.

"I didn't order you a giant cock cake." Judith declared.

"I know you didn't order me a big pink cock cake." I laughed because how many times will one person say big pink cock cake in their lifetime?

"It was that baker!" Judith flopped into the chair I was sitting in. "I knew there was something up with him. He's giving you very hints."

The chants in the restaurant went from 'blow it' to 'cut the cock.' So, following the instructions from my drunk and dear friends, I held up a knife above the tip of the cock.

Moans come from the men at the party. "No, not the tip." Creating another wave of laughter in our little room at the restaurant.

I slowly slice through the soft cock cake with the knife, and a white creamy filling trickled out of the chocolate cake.

My friends roared with laughter. "Is the cream only at the tip?" Judith asked.

I make several cuts along the shaft. Each cut causes a wave of painful moans from my male friends. "Not the balls." Mark shouted. I stop cutting at the balls.

"Not the balls." I laugh, and dip my fingertip into the creamy filling, and lick the sugary cream off my finger. "Almost orgasmic." I giggled again.

The cock cake was deliciously sweet, moist and filling. Almost as good as a real cock.

The party ended with a wonderful climax, and I made a personal note to give the baker a special thank you.

Monday morning, I stood in line waiting for my donut order, the baker walked out to say hello.

I whispered, "Are these hung donuts?"

His eyebrows wrinkled at me. "No, they are normal donuts."

He shifted his stance and asks. "How was your party?"

"My party." I tightened my Kegel muscle at the thought of the pink cock cake.

"Was a big success. Every drop of cake was gobbled up. Every inch was swallowed with delight." My mind was racing with every erotic word I could plug into my description of the cock cake, and at the moment when I believed the baker and I were having a moment, the yellow bell jingled loudly.

"This isn't the cake I ordered; my name isn't Kaycee." The man plopped the cake box on the counter and glared at the baker. "You said you'd make me a special cake."

The whiny voice of the man sent my gay-dar into overdrive, I looked at the baker, and there it was: the 'look'.

The baker had the look of an ousted bitch. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I made your cake. I designed it from...me." he pointed down to his zipper.

The irate man pointed to the cake. "That isn't what is in there. I have seen that, and the cake is not... that!" Both men continued pointing to the baker's zipper.

I slowly strolled over to the register, paid for my donuts and left.

I know the cake wasn't made for me, but I sure did enjoy my luscious big pink cock cake.

How many of you have had a pink cock cake?