I took the trays from the refrigerator and put them on the counter, and then pulled up a stool and sat down to start my work. First, I carefully placed a 10-inch marzipan cock on a chocolate cake destined for a bachelorette party. Once that was done, I moved on to arranging little candy tits around the edge of a sheet cake whose icing read, "Happy Birthday Bob!"
I was dressed in my usual outfit for working in the kitchen - what Jake liked to call the 'naughty baker': black bra and panties, fishnet hose with garters, and heels, covered by a ridiculously short black lace 'apron'. My long red hair was up in pigtails, and I was wearing glasses which I didn't need, but which Jake assured me added to the look.
Jake would watch me from the corner as I worked, quietly stroking his real man's cock as I arranged suggestive sweets on the top of various cookies and cakes. I would invariably find myself getting wet, knowing that he was watching, deliberately dropping something on the floor so I could bend down and show him my ass. When I had finished preparing the day's orders, he would take me right there in the kitchen, bent over the counter, my eager pussy taking every inch of his cock and draining every drop of cum.
Perhaps I should explain how I went from innocent college girl to back-room slut at the local erotic bakery? I think the best encounter to share is our very first.
"Help Wanted: seeking young woman for bakery assistant, no experience necessary."
That was the sign that caught my eye as I walked from my apartment to campus, trying to figure out how I would pay my next month's rent after losing my job as a waitress. I realized I had passed by this little bakery every morning on my way to school, but never stopped in. Desperate as I was to find another job quickly, I thought to myself 'what the hell' and walked through the door.
I was immediately hit with both the heat of the air and the wonderful smells from the kitchen - bread, cinnamon rolls, chocolate chip cookies, all of the aromas filled the air, a confused but pleasing potpurri.
"What can I get you, sweetie?" said the 40-ish man in a baker's hat from behind the counter. Any suspicion I may have had about the help wanted sign specifying a young woman immediately washed away when I began talking to this obviously gay man.
"Actually, I'm here about the sign in the window - are you still looking for someone?"
"Oh, yes, thanks for coming in. I'm Jonathan, the owner of this little establishment. What's your name?"
"Kaylie. I'm a student at the university, and in desperate need of a job - I was working as a waitress at that Italian Restaurant downtown that just went out of business, you know the one?" He nodded, and I continued, "I've never worked in a bakery, but I do have quite a bit of waitressing and customer service experience."
"No worries, dear. We need someone to start right away, and you're the first to ask about the job, so, consider yourself hired!"
We went over schedules, and it turned out my availability - a few hours early each morning and then again late in the afternoon after classes - was exactly what they needed. Jonathan explained that he and his partner Jake, who I'd be able to meet that afternoon, were starting to fall behind now that the bakery was becoming more successful. They needed someone to work with customers in the front both early and late in the day as they handled things in the kitchen.
When I first met Jake, his piercing blue eyes and five-o-clock shadow immediately began to melt me, before I reminded myself that he was Jonathan's partner, and pulled myself together. I'd been burned enough times before - how did that saying go, all the best guys are either married or gay? Anyway, it was immediately obvious that these were very nice, hard-working guys, and I was glad to have the job. That first afternoon, they showed me around the place, made sure I knew what they expected, and after helping a few customers, I went home.
I quickly settled into a routine with the new job. Jonathan and Jake appreciated my punctuality and work ethic, and I enjoyed their sense of humor and the laid-back work environment. It was a nice clientele, too - lots of foot traffic off the street, but also many regular customers who came in to pick up pre-ordered cakes and cookies. I didn't even get to see what was in the boxes, because Jonathan was a stickler about tying things up with ornate bows.
I had been working there about three weeks when the guys left me alone and in charge for an afternoon while they were out running errands. "Don't worry, you'll be fine - it should be a quiet afternoon, and we trust you!" was what Jonathan said quickly as they left, the door shutting quickly and leaving me alone in the quiet warmth of the bakery.
They were right, it was a quiet afternoon. I had actually pulled out a book to do a little studying when Mrs. Smith came in - one of the regular customers I mentioned earlier. "Hello, Mrs. Smith, what can I do for you?"
"Hi Kaylie, nice to see you again! There should be a box waiting for me?"
"Oh, hmm... I'm alone this afternoon, and they didn't mention anything, but let me go in back and see if I can find it."