The Bake Sale


I love to bake, Diary, I really do, but I’m more of a Saturday afternoon potterer than a true baker. I will whip up a cake or a few dozen cookies just on a whim no problem but I don’t do well under pressure.
I know my darling daughter meant well and I should take it as a compliment that she was boasting at school about how lovely my cakes are, but when she came home and excitedly told me about the bake sale my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.

“You can do us some cakes right, mum, for Friday.”

“Yes, dear, of course.” I smiled. I didn’t want to disappoint. With just over 24 hours’ notice I knew I was going to be hard pushed to bake. I had to buy ingredients and fit it in around work. I decided to do a never fail recipe I knew inside out and calmed my fears. However, I didn’t anticipate the worst ever traffic jam on my way home from the office or the longest queue at the supermarket when I had worked out my timings.

“What are you doing?” Mr Divine asked as I pulled items out of kitchen cupboards in a flurry.

“Cakes for the bake sale.” I mumbled, “I promised.”

“But it’s almost eleven o’clock.”

“I know,” I snapped, “but I promised. If I bake the cakes tonight I can ice them in the morning.”

“Oh, okay dear.”

Mr Divine backed out and left me to it. I told you, I don’t do well under pressure and just thirty minutes later I broke down and sobbed.

“I forgot the eggs.” Mr Divine hugged me, dried my tears and pulled me back together. He’s a good man. Between us we restarted the process, remembering the eggs and getting the two dozen sponge buns in the oven just this side of midnight.

“Okay, twenty minutes and they can come out.” I sighed, looking at the clock.

“Okay,” Mr Divine echoed then pulled me in for a scorching kiss. I must admit I was a little less than turned on at first, worried about burning the second batch of cakes. I had no ingredients left if I messed up this batch. But Mr Divine is a damn good kisser and soon I melted into him.

He closed the kitchen door and hefted me onto the still dirty kitchen side.

I wasn’t too worried – I had flour all down the front of my skirt, it wouldn’t make much difference to have it all up the back too. He split my thighs, knelt before me and licked me until I shuddered and moaned out in ecstasy.

“I think it’s time to check your cakes.” He wiped his hand across his mouth and looked up to the clock. It was indeed time so I hopped off the side and pulled out the perfectly risen, golden domed cakes.

“You go to bed, I’ll clean up,” he said as I let out a mighty yawn.

“Are you sure, I mean, you’ve not – you know – but I have.”

“It’s okay, darling, I’ll get mine soon enough. You needed calming down and I don’t know any better way than making you come.”

He was right, Diary, it calms me down every damn time. I went to bed contented. In the morning I iced the cakes and sent girl-child off to school with them in tow. I just hoped there’d be no more bake sales for a while. Although an excuse to get Mr Divine to calm me down again wouldn’t go amiss!