Baked Goods

He sat on the couch, casually flipping channels.

And watching her.

She was more interesting than any infomercial anyway.

He could see the curves of her body through the bathrobe she was wearing as she padded barefoot around the kitchen, pulling out flour, sugar, eggs and honey. His eyes took in the ripe swell of a breast as she bent over in front of the refrigerator, pulling out two red apples.

She stood back and smiled at him, tugging the robe shut. He smiled back and then pretended to go back to watching television. He watched as she measured out and sifted the flour, beat the eggs and butter together.

"Apple muffins," she told him, tucking a long brown strand behind a delicately curved ear. "For the bake sale at work tomorrow."

He nodded and watched as she hefted a knife and began peeling and slicing the apples. He watched her fingers. They moved efficiently, slicing through the white flesh. She took a large wedge of apple and walked over to him, feet slapping quietly against the tile floor.

"Here," she smiled teasingly and brought it to his lips. "I wouldn't want you to feel left out."

He allowed her to place it in his mouth, licking the traces of juice off of her fingers.

Going back to the kitchen, she finished dicing the apples. Small white cubes littered the chopping board.

He watched the silhouette of her legs, long and lean, lit against the white cotton of her robe. In one step, he was behind her, hands curving around her waist, face against her hair, taking in the scent of floral shampoo, mingling with the clean cotton of her robe.

His hands ran up and down her body and let out an unconscious sigh. Without warning, she turned around to face him, arms around his neck in an instant, with her soft, pliant lips against his. Her hips bumped up against the counter as he pressed his body into hers.

Reaching behind her, he grabbed a bottle. He chuckled a little as he broke the kiss. He reached down, swiftly untying the knot that held the robe shut. He kissed her again as one hand found purchase on a smooth, rounded breast, skating his thumb teasingly across the hardening nipple.

Pressing her body tightly against his, he deepened the kiss, sliding one hand downward to confirm what he already knew: she wore no panties beneath the robe. She gasped into his mouth as his finger slid into her wetness. He growled in his throat, breaking the kiss to guide her body downward to lie on the cool tile, with only the thin cotton of her robe between her hot skin and the chilled bare floor.

He stood there for a moment, enjoying the view; flushed skin and parted lips, sleepy eyes half-closed in pleasure, before taking action. He knelt down, putting the bottle in his hand to good use.

He started with her left breast, anointing the pert nipple with a glimmer of honey, before stretching the trail of stickiness across to her right, and then down the soft plane of her belly. Slowly and delicately, his tongue worked its way across her flesh, taking in the sweetness of the honey with the salt of her skin. He felt her heart beating, the rhythm strong and steady through every cell of her body. He took pleasure when he heard her moan softly beneath his touch.

Working his way downward, his mouth finally reached the sweet, wet spot between her legs. Her hips rose up to meet his mouth and her pulse rose, thudding in her chest as he licked and sucked, teasing her to climax. Her breath came faster and whimpers became screams, her fists wrapping themselves in the cotton of her robe as her body convulsed in release, arching her back as pleasure took every fiber of her being.

She lay, panting on the robe and he watched the rise and fall of her chest, breasts pulsing up and down.

He smiled down at her and reached down a hand to help her up. She met his eyes.

"We're not done," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him down.

He landed on top of her, the hardened tips of her nipples pressing insistently against his chest. Her hand reached downward, feeling his insistent, throbbing member. She ran her fingers up and down its length, lightly stroking, taunting him with the lightest touch.

She grinned up at him and he didn't expect it when she flipped him over, the heated skin of his back against the cool tile. Suddenly, she was on top of him, wetness against his stomach, beautiful breasts hanging above him like ripe fruit. He reached up, unable to resist cupping one, stroking his fingers against the tight little nipple.

She let him hold on to it as she slid downward, picking up her hips. Slowly, torturously, she slid herself down onto him, letting him feel every millimeter as she allowed him to fill her up. And just as slowly, she lifted herself upward, until just the tip remained inside her. And, smiling, she lowered herself again, picking up the pace, her warm muscles opening up to him as he sheathed himself inside her. The friction mounted to a climax as he watched her breasts, bobbing above him. He watched her face, enjoying the blush and the contortions as she gasped and moaned above him.

His member tingled, and he knew that he was close. She smiled and increased the pace for a few moments, before remaining utterly still, meeting his eyes when he was completely sheathed in her flesh. He felt himself pulse into her, could feel as her muscles clenched around him in orgasm, her breath coming fast and her face contorting with pleasure.

She allowed herself to collapse on top him, her cheek against his sweaty chest. His fingers tangled in her long dark hair as he stroked a finger down the length of her body.

He kissed her, savoring the moment.

"You know," she said, breaking the kiss. "I really should bake more often."