I usually prefer masturbation phone sex to a quiet night in, but the Food Network was putting on a masterclass in decadent chocolate lava cakes. I scoffed, crossing my arms while I watched the chef fumble with a whisk. “You’re doing it all wrong, sweetie,” I muttered to the screen, my voice a playful drawl. I stood up, my blonde hair flouncing, and marched into the kitchen. I didn’t need a professional to tell me how to make something sweet and messy.
The kitchen filled with the heavy, cloying scent of melted cocoa and browned butter. I whipped the batter until it became a glossy, dark river, humming a pop song under my breath. After the oven timer dinged, I pulled out a cake that looked like a dark, steaming mound, the edges crisp and the center still molten. I let it sit; the warmth radiating through the room, making my own skin feel tight and sensitive. I felt a familiar tingle between my thighs, a hunger that the cake alone could not satisfy.
Once the cake cooled to a searing, tolerable warmth, I slapped on a thick layer of vanilla buttercream frosting. I stripped off my clothes, and hoisted the cake onto my lap. I compared the heat of the sponge to the thrill of masturbation phone sex, finding the physical warmth far more intoxicating. I began masturbating, my fingers sliding into my soaking wet pussy and I moaned. I pressed the warm, soft cake against my clit, the spongy texture vibrating against my nerves as I started fingering myself with a rhythmic intensity. “Oh, this is way better than a phone call,” I gasped, my back arching as the sugary heat merged with my own lubrication.
I reached for the frosting, scooping fingerfuls of the white cream and smearing it across my breasts. The cool vanilla contrasted with the heat of my skin; and I began licking the frosting off my own nipples, my tongue swirling around the hardened peaks. I felt the build-up peaking, a sudden, crushing weight of release that made my toes curl. I imagined the voice of a past call, a ghostly echo of masturbation phone sex, as I drove my fingers deeper into my wetness. With a final, shuddering moan, I came hard, my body shaking against the cake, leaving a mess of chocolate and cream across my thighs, breasts, stomach, and pussy. I lay there for a moment, breathless and sticky, deciding that baking was a superior hobby.
