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You don’t play with food! I don’t know how often I do this sentence from mine in my childhood Mother heard. Regardless of whether I let a tomato speak, kept a banana in front of my mouth like a microphone, drummed with carrots on the table, or nibbled from bread slices of fantasy figures. The maternal guiding principle always followed, which I reluctantly followed. So after a short time the food was hardly a pleasure, because I could no longer deal imaginatively with him and thus deal with it.
I only led my body to my body listlessly and without a special appetite. Later I secretly steal fruit or vegetables from the kitchen to satisfy myself behind closed doors. I introduced myself to a minigle and moved it enjoyably in me. I let a banana wet with the body oil slide with the full length of the outer curvature along the labia and so often brought myself to the climax. I never threw the food away afterwards, but ate it with a special appetite.
Fortunately, my mother didn’t notice anything from all of this. She would probably have given me more than just a lecture. Certainly it was neither fate nor coincidence that at the beginning of my 19. Years of life started training as a baker. With this step, I probably compensated for the playful handling of foods that were withheld and so loved. The small bakery in the heart of the old town was known for its traditionally baked sourdough bread and the incomparably delicious spray biscuits. Especially in the afternoon at coffee time, this specialty was always very popular.
Tom, the handsome master baker, who already continued the family business in the third generation, was a humorous and mostly well -fermented young man. At almost 28 years, he was already responsible for the bakery business of his Family. In the very well attended shop he always had an open ear and friendly words for the problems and concerns of his regular customers. Usually the customers left the bakery with a smile. I liked Tom from the first moment.
His charisma, his humor, his dealings with people and, last but not least, his well -built strong body made the picture perfect for me. At 2:30 his working day started in the bakery and mostly ended around 8 p.m. with the bureaucratic madness that such a small craft business brought with it these days. Tom Sister Standing on sale in the morning, so that he usually found time to sleep for a short time. Then he filled the dough of the popular pastries that was already prepared in the morning in the piping bag and artistically distributed it to several large sheets.
When the spray biscuits came out of the oven with a scent, a queue quickly formed to the sidewalk in front of the bakery. The recipe was a well -kept family secret that was only passed on in an oral way within the family. As a trainee and therefore cheap baking aid, I was welcome and was welcomed in a friendly manner. I was quickly integrated into the structures of the small family business and felt very comfortable there. I liked my youthful uncomplicated and unbiased nature.
I got used to the inhumanity of early up and the physically exhausting work in the bakery. Traditional manual work was the figurehead and was practiced as a matter of course. Betting machines were absolutely taboo. Dough was kneaded and shaped by hand with pure muscle strength. The sore muscles in the arms was a loyal companion of my everyday bakery. From 3 a.m. to 8 a.m. I stood together with Tom in the bakery. I quickly learned the art of baking from him.
After just a few weeks, our work processes went hand in hand. We understood and trusted ourselves blindly and, despite the strenuous work, had a lot of fun. Early in the morning, however, when preparing the spray biscuit dough, I had to leave the warm bakery every time to decorative the expenses of the sales room. My curiosity grew more from week to week. How was this “magic” only prepared? What was the strictly kept secret of these little treats?One night when kneading the bread dough I asked him about it.
Smiling he looked at me from the side, gently stroked my cheek with his floury hand and said: “Ok, I think you are so far and can keep a secret to you. You practically belong to the family. “Excitedly my heart knocked. I would finally get to know the secret recipe. I was aware of this honor and yes, I would take care of this secret responsibly. We stocked the expenses in the shop together in the morning and then went back to the bakery.
I watched Tom carefully how he prepared his workplace and put all the ingredients on the large table. He made a mysterious face. Tom looked deeply into my eyes. “You have to feel every ingredient and every step of the preparation physically. This is the only way to taste the devotion and passion of your pastry creation later. Without a word, he completely took off his white work clothes in a few seconds. The sight of his muscular body and half -level masculinity made me freeze like the rabbit in front of the snake.
A feeling of fascination and uncontrollable lust drove through me and captivated me in his spell, brought me to follow his example. So a short time later I lay naked on the large silver shiny metal table and let my master baker be used as a living and feeling work surface. All ingredients for the preparation of the spray biscuits stood around me. Lying on my back I saw Tom’s view of the curves of my body hiking. Be tail had already set up steeply and confirmed the sexual willingness of his eyes impressively.
He raised his strong hands deliberately and began with the artistic work of dough production. “Butter is an important flavor carrier, so it never saves!“With both hands, he distributed two large cubes of brand butter on my body and massaged me from the neck to his feet. First my front, taking a lot of time with my plump breasts. Then I was turned and my back buttered. For a long time he kneaded my little round ass cheeks, which he caught with an additional piece of butter.
After a short time a thick shiny fat layer passed over. Tom’s eyes looked like in a trance, he was completely in his world. “Now the good quality flour comes into play. “With these words, he took the big heavy flour bag into both hands and poured the wheat flour generously over me, so that it can then be distributed evenly on me. I watched his gentle hands several times through a dense meal cloud, which completely covered me with flour.
The flour was stuck evenly on the butter layer of my skin. I was turned again like a schnitzel in his breading and showered with flour. My inner heat gave me the feeling of frying myself for a short time. I had to smile briefly about this absurd thought. Through my smile, Tom felt confirmed in his work and replied slyly. Then he reached to the honey glass. “Actually you’re sweet enough. “Various, he created grid -like patterns in the butter -flour layer of my breasts and then over my whole body.
The honey of the white of the flour lifted off in gold and ran down my breasts in small rivulets. Indescribable! Practice he hit half a dozen eggs and considered me with big yellow dots. A handful of salt and the abrasion of some lemons completed the dough mass before he overgown me with lukewarm water. Grinning, I had to think of my mother briefly, who would have probably fainted with this wasteful handling of food. “Soulful kneading has a positive effect on the consistency and quality of the dough.
“Tom kneaded with strong hands – his dough mass. This unusual treatment left visible and invisible traces. Indescribable feelings fulfilled me. I let myself go, adapted to the movements of his hands, became his dough entirely. I felt a cozy goosebumps, the tensioning of my breasts, how they became firmer, felt like the moisture between my legs. Cunt juice ran out of my wet shiny column in small rivulets, mixed with the dough and let them lumps.
Tom miserably noticed these faux pas. “Under no circumstances may the dough clump!“He skillfully opened another egg and distributed it with a casual movement over my pubic bone. Cold I felt the egg white run over the inside of my thighs. The shiny round egg yolk slid a little deeper and only stopped on my flour crumbled pussy. “And very important: Don’t forget to stirsty stirring after kneading!“With these words, he unexcitedly positioned his hard cock to the egg yolk, which rested like a small sun on my heated labia.
With large eyes and open mouth I looked impressed with his large dark red glans, which stood in perfect contrast to the white of the flour and yellow of the yolk. Smart, the egg yolk splashed on all sides when his hard cock pushed into my slightly open cunt adamantly into my slightly opened cunt. With circular movements, his stiffer “mixing spoon” worked in my wet trembling column before he started fucking her with small bumps. I groaned lustfully in the rhythm of his careful movements.
I felt like dough, not through baking powder, but through limitless lust. Tom fucked me slowly and soulfully. He worked my honey glued breasts. “Sense! You have to feel the dough completely! That is the real secret of this pastry. “He pulled his dripping cock out of my egg yolk -lubricated fuck hole and climbed on the worktop. The egg, butter and honey dripped from his stiff strap, which has long since regarded his work as ended.
He followed his very own destination. I willingly spread my dusty dusty long legs apart. Tom’s well -defined muscular body lay on me. As if by myself, I closed my legs and his hips, clutched him and pulled him to me. His strong hands grabbed the baking of my little butt and raised him a little. Between my legs I felt the impatient knocking of his hard hard erection, which emphasized for admission. Without resistance, my damp labia only liked to grant his urge.
Tenderly but determines Tom’s cock again deep into my fucking cunt. My overwhelmed vaginal walls stretched while his full testicles clapped against my ass cheeks, which were held by his strong hands and kneaded at the same time. “The dough has to be pushed well with it …” Kichering and breathing quickly I kept Tom’s mouth, so that his words went into a loud moaning. His abdomen now hammered wildly on my middle of my body with advance and crashed movements.
My hands wandered deeper, clung to his tense Knackpo and adapted his wild bumps. So I pulled him even closer to myself and supported the depth and intensity of his fucking movements. I was flinched by a wave of lust and screamed loudly orgasm Through the bakery. “Turning the dough while kneading is elementary. “As from afar, I heard Tom’s voice, who granted me a little break and was now in front of the table again.
He lovingly turned me on the stomach and pulled my bottom up, so that I now knelt in front of him wide -legged. A little exhausted I put my upper body on the floury work surface and put my little firm ass provocative to him. The moist shiny invitation between my legs was gratefully accepted by Tom. The next few minutes I felt his intensely licking tongue and his kissing sucking lips, which spoiled my labia on the most beautiful.
His nose pushed lustfully against my anus, which made my body shiver. Every now and then one or two fingers slid into my cunt that seemingly insatiable and increasingly wetter again. I greedily moved my back and purred comfortably like a cat. Tom licked incredibly well. His tongue drove along my labia in a playful way, hit my pleasure pearl with the tip. His hands stroked my cheeks in a soul, spread them apart and kneaded them like solid dough into a bread loaf.
I felt his excited breathing on my skin. Shortly before the next wave set off in me, Tom interrupted his wonderful oral game. “A change of perspective always gives you new knowledge. “With one sentence he jumped onto the table, stood over me wide -legged and penetrated from behind into the cunt he spoiled. His hands fixed my ass cheeks. Completely unrestrained, he rammed me, birded wildly on me, lived out his previously held upholstery.
In the flour fuck we fucked as if it were forbidden tomorrow. He the baker – me his dough. Shortly after I shouted out my second orgasm, Tom pulled his pulsating penis with a deep moan from my ecstatic cramping fuck column. He hastily put me on my back and knelt over my breasts wide -legged. “The handling of the piping bag requires a lot of tact. Every single spray biscuits is an artistic ornament and individual trademark of a good baker who … “I did not let him talk, with one hand encompassed his full bag and directed the twitching spray nozzle on my face with the other.
He moved his lower body uncontrollably and groaned like a roaring lion. The announced individual ornament was not long in coming. I felt the unstoppable pumping of his heavy testicles and supported his piping bag with kneading fingers, which contracted himself. My other hand rubbed the thick pulsating shaft of his cock evenly and faster and faster. gossip! The first sparrow load splashed on my upper lip, closely followed by the second, which my nostrils climbed.
I opened my mouth reflexively, grabbed to air and then to Tom’s splashed tail. I gently put his glans on my outstretched tongue and wrapped them in with my lips. Moaning he pushed his dough -smeared penis until he completely disappeared into my mouth. He held my head tightly between his hands and fucked into my oral cavity with small thrusting movements. Thrust around thrust splashed his pent -up cum further into my mouth and filled it very quickly.
Warm and viscous, Tom’s whitish silly juice ran down my corners of the mouth. I tasted the magical mixture of his sperm enriched with food. I greedily swallowed the sweet creamy porridge, sucked on toms to the cock smeared in concrete and finally licked dreamy over his red plump, from which the last drops ran. 18 years later Tom grabbed the Volvo in the entrance in front of my parents’ house. Hand in hand, we ran to the house through the accurately maintained front garden, in which I had spent most of my childhood.
Whenever I walked along this garden path, I remembered many beautiful moments and situations that I had experienced here. Warmly opened mine Father We received the door and received us with the ambiguous words: “Well get everything baked?“Laughing he gave Tom hand and I on his cheek. “Your mother and Karla are still at dinner. “With a concern, I thought of my mother’s strict meal rules when I entered the cozy dining area of the kitchen with Tom.
Karla, our four year old Daughter knelt on the dining table and handled around with her little hands on my mother’s face. When the little one saw us, she dropped everything and beamed all over her face. “Mom, Papa looks at once! Grandma looks like a crocodile with red dots. “Slowly my mother turned around the chair. On tiny curd blobs, green cucumber pieces and small red carrot slices glued on tiny curd blobs. Between her eyebrows she was decorated with a round liver sausage blob, which looked like a bindi married Indian women.
Tom put his arm around the waist with a laugh while my mother and I looked deep into the eyes. Layer and a little ashamed she lowered her gaze. I lovingly smiled at her gratefully and relieved.
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