I am a baker by nature and I work at a daycare by trade.
I am a single mom and I get lonely sometimes. Every once in a while I fantasize about what I am missing in my life.
I miss being with a man.
I miss how being with a man feels.
I miss how being with a man makes me feel...
Since you're all deprived sex-crazed maniacs like I am, this following tale should be right up your alley (I was working in my kitchen, elbow-deep in dough when this vision came to me... oh, and since this is my fantasy, I get to play the heroine, so nah-nah):
I'm working in my kitchen, hands covered in dough, when the man of my dreams sneaks up behind me and tightly wraps his arms around my waist.
He's desperately, almost violently kissing my neck. As I close my eyes, he runs his hands up and down my arms.
I'm virtually shocked into a passionate state - so shocked that I just stand there waiting for the next thing he does to me.
He unties my apron and I help - and I can't help myself when I gasp for air.
He spins me around to face him, knocking the bowl and other utensils onto the floor. With the strength of a stallion, he gently lifts me up and places me onto the counter.
He asks with a whisper, "What's under your skirt?"
I whisper back, "Nothing."
(Hey, its my fantasy and I'll bake pantiless and in a short short skirt if I want to)
We kiss - tenderly at first, then increasingly passionate. I can hardly breathe.
In one swift move he pulls off my apron and shirt. I am in nothing but a bra and the tiny skirt.
Kissing me on his way down, he hides his face under my skirt. I run my flour-covered fingers through his hair, biting my lower lip in pleasure.
I feel alive.
I feel energized.
I love this.
When he's had all of me that he can handle, he stands up, looks deeply into my eyes and gently caresses my face.
It's my turn as I pull him in and undo his pants. A moment before his pants crumple to the floor, he moves in, slamming me back into the counter.
For hours we heat up the kitchen so much, we don't need a stove to bake anything...
