Short Stokes: Molasses Makes Me Horny

I wrote this as part of my writing class with Rachel Kramer Bussel on LitReactor.com (next class starts February 12 if you are interested).  I am working on turning others into multiple part stories but this one was somewhat of a one off.  If you enjoy it please let me know.  If you weren’t impressed let me know that too.  And if you are wondering yes, molasses based since can make me kinda moist lol.

Molasses Makes Me Horny

For the first time in a very long time she was going to be spending the holidays alone.  While it might have depressed her in years past, this year it was a gift that she couldn’t possibly begin to express gratitude for.  Her brother and his family were heading off for a skiing vacation.  Her mother was going to a family gathering out of state and that meant when she got home tonight Denise Jacobs would be thoroughly, wonderfully alone, with no plans to do anything but cook and enjoy the next few weeks of silence.  She was naturally introverted when she wasn’t in “go” mode at work.  It didn’t help that she felt very out of place socially with her coworkers most days.  She was a single thirty-something, almost forty-something, round in most of the right places woman with no actual plans to settle down or do more than enjoy her life as it was and they generally were settled and overrun with children. Being able to really rest from all the family and work things and let her mind recharge was on the top of her list of things to do. 
She had been envisioning the time alone throughout the last day of grading, meetings, impromptu parties and other pre-winter break minutiae.  Denise had grabbed enough supplies to be well stocked through whatever cooking binges she went on for at least a few days so there was no need to get out into the rush of last minute shoppers.  She hated the press of people looking over the last bunch of celery, always a sad ingredient which smelled oddly of wet pungent grass.  The fact that it was slick to the touch whenever she grabbed a bunch to make dressing for the family always turned her stomach.  Denise might like a slick stalk in her hand but it definitely wasn’t coming from the veggie section at the grocery store.  The thought of slick stalks made her smirk to herself and then release a deep sigh. Her current paramour, Steven Morris, was tied up with family and work obligations so they would not be hooking up for rug burn, full bellies and Batman related viewing.  They’d see each other next month and the time alone would allow her to keep working on her recipes before they saw one another again.

Denise cranked up the volume on the radio and headed for home.  She fantasized about which dessert she wanted to make first.  Imagined the taste of one creamy confection after the next making her moan with delight as she swallowed it.  Gingersnap crumble cupcakes or gingerbread ice cream?  The ice cream base needed more time to set up but baking several dozen cupcakes after that detailed recipe would be a pain.  Either way she could smell the scent of molasses invading her kitchen.  Strong and woody, it made the whole house feel more warm and homey to her.  Tasting it was always delightful for her even though others didn’t get her fascination with the flavors.  Biting into one of the unusual cookies always produced a tangy sharp sweet mouthful before tossing it into the food processor or ice cream maker.  The scent would linger long enough for her to let her mind wander.  She’d be able to close her eyes and be transported to her grandmother’s kitchen, not measuring a thing but being able to visually gauge what should be in her mixing bowl.  She hadn’t paid much attention to her grandmother’s directive that the way to a man’s heart was his stomach.  For Denise, the way to a man’s heart had always been multiple orgasms but the cooking most definitely helped.  She smiled again and decided to wear the Santa Vespa apron over her pajamas when she began the baking ritual.  
By the time she pulled into the garage and lowered the whisper soft door behind her, she was almost giddy that no one would be around to watch her overindulge in goodies and roasted duck and pasta and rolls and whatever else she could think of while she was on her own.  She might hit the gym during the gluttony but her plan was solely to enjoy every bit of food that entered her mouth.  She had been so completely enthralled with her plans that she didn’t immediately notice that lingering scent of molasses in the air as she entered the house.  It hit her completely when she rounded the corner and was greeted by a most unwelcome sight.  There was her boyfriend of the last two years with her recipe book out on the counter and her kitchen was totally and completely wrecked.  He smiled at her and tried to look optimistic about whatever monstrosity he had been arranging but all that could be said for certain was a bag of gingersnaps was destroyed.  Her unsalted real butter was hacked to bits and there was flour nearly everywhere.  Her smile vanished.  She wasn’t angry, necessarily, but overtaking her kitchen was a major violation for Denise.  Especially when he clearly didn’t have a clue what he was doing.
He tried to explain what his plan had been.  “Honey before you get upset, well more upset, let me say that I knew you would be tired and hungry and maybe lonely so I wanted to surprise you.  I was going to grab takeout after you got here but wanted the house to be smelling like a bakery when you walked in the door and you could start with dessert while I ran out to grab dinner.”  He paused trying to asses her mood before he continued rambling. 
He was going to have dessert waiting for her and then he was going to grab some take out from P.F. Chang’s after she got settled in from work: crispy honey shrimp, shrimp fried rice, plain lo mein and chicken lettuce wraps for them to share.  He went to the recipes she had mentioned several times over the last few weeks and didn’t realize how much work was involved in making ice cream or making cupcakes that didn’t taste like crap.  He was on batch number two as the first had been inedible.  He was pulling out the first pan of the second batch and they didn’t look any better than the first had been.  She stopped Steven from talking and dropped her bag on the sofa.  She rubbed her fingers against her temples briefly and then took inventory of what was now missing from her holiday food festival.  She made a quick list and sent him off in the direction of the closest store and offered to call in the order for takeout but he agreed to do it all while she restored her kitchen.  She cleaned up in silence and tried to find the humor in a six foot two inch computer programmer attempting to navigate a fairly detailed cupcake recipe on his own.  However, she wasn’t laughing and couldn’t bring herself to even smile.  She sighed deeply as she dumped the remains of his efforts into the garbage in the garage.  She went inside to shower and get ready for the unexpected company.  While she was underneath the water, an idea came to her and she decided to run with it.  A brief nod to grandma’s wisdom but with Denise’s spin on it, of course.
She appreciated that he had arranged to sneak in and surprise her for a few days.  She knew he had probably observed her moving around the kitchen easily as they chatted and watched tv that he assumed it would be a simple process to prepare something for her.  Turns out he was great at sneaking but bad at baking.  She smiled for the first time that evening at the thought of him trying to measure a teaspoon of anything and a generous helping of something else.  He meant well and she had to recognize that but oh no more kitchen violations.  She’d work on that later though.  After so many years together, he thought he knew her tastes and desires even better than she knew them but she was still capable of surprising him.  Another of those surprises was awaiting him when he returned to her place in full mea culpa mode.
She had slipped into one of her vintage shapewear pieces.  If it hadn’t been so form hugging one may have called it a slip but it was essentially a full body girdle that pushed her breasts up, flattened her stomach and made her bottom a lacey round mound that he struggled not to touch.  She had loosely pinned her hair up into curls with a few tendrils falling loosely around her neck.  She smelled of lavender body wash and Daisy Dream by Marc Jacobs.  Her feet were in a pair of black Mary Janes and that Santa Vespa apron was wrapped around her torso.  With her cat eye glasses, she was the perfect fifties seductress and he hopped to follow her commands.  The food was placed on the table waiting.  The replacement ingredients were all assembled on the countertop and she was slipping an apron around his waist.
“First things first, if you want to bake in this kitchen you need to be covered up so that you don’t make a mess,” she winked at him and then walked over to the recipe book she had propped up on a stand.  “Follow my instructions and we’ll make something sweet together tonight.”
He relaxed as he saw the warm smile light up her face.  He melted the butter slowly in the microwave, as directed.  It smelled less like the oily goo that melted margarine put off.  It reminded Steven of waffles and that fresh light smell the butter would have when it melted quickly against the sugary crust.  It slid out of the dish and into the mixing bowl in a plop. “Is that alright?” he asked, hesitant each step of the way after the earlier fiasco. With another smile, she assured him it was. Before he knew it she had added the sugar and eggs and whipped up a nice frothy base that looked like frosting but she warned him not to taste, since it did not have much flavor yet.  She poured in vanilla without attempting to measure it, inhaling deeply a few times like she was trying to coat her lungs with the nutty flavor.  She turned the mixer back on to blend the ingredients and he watched as her behind moved in time to a beat only she could hear. 
“Maybe I should more time with you in the kitchen from now on.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen your butt sway to whatever beat you are rocking to now.  I like it.” 
“You may be allowed to as long as you are a good student tonight.  Now on to your next task Mr. Morris.  Grab the bag of gingersnaps and crunch them up with your hands.”  He looked at her waiting for her stamp of approval at his now full bowl of broken cookies.  She kissed him on the cheek and gave him his next step, “See the black machine at the end of the counter?  Dump them in there and keep hitting the pulse button until they are nice and crumbly like the brown sugar sitting there next to the bowl.”  
“Are you sure this is right,” he asked concerned about the amount of crumbled up cookie was in the machine as he watched her while she added flour and made sure the stove was at the right temperature.  
She smiled and nodded as she lined the freshly cleaned muffin tin with paper cups and, after removing the oversized glass bowl from the mixer she gradually worked in the crushed cookies with a wooden spoon.  When the concoction looked ready, she stuck a finger in and slowly closed her eyes as she sucked the molasses tinted cupcake batter off her digit.  He must have been staring harder than he realized, because she giggled as she repeated the procedure, her gaze on his, then mimicked that she would be handing a taste to him before smearing it on her neck.  
She worried that the scents on her body would overwhelm the taste of the cupcake batter but she didn’t get long to dwell on that fact before he had latched onto her neck and was sucking for dear life.  For the first time since she saw her kitchen destroyed her body was happy to see Steven.  Being tied up in his arms as his nibbled on her neck was intoxicating.  They could leave the baking for later but the batter would be useless.  She prepared to push him away and finish the dessert before he hit her sweet spot.  Her giggle broke her concentration long enough to get them both to focus on the task at hand.
She stated that she never had such a willing kitchen assistant and she had to think about how to reward his patience and his dedication.  He replied that if she couldn’t think of anything he had a few suggestions of his own.  “I could just cover you in the rest of the batter and see how long it took you to become soft and creamy.”  They briefly paused as their words settled in and then were back to work with renewed purpose.
The pans were filled in record time thanks to the scooper and her motivated assistant.  There was always a tiny bit of extra batter left and she figured they should put it to good use while they waited for the cupcakes to finish baking.  “Sit down in that chair,” she demanded, and as he now always planned to do when in the kitchen with Denise, he immediately obeyed. Her soft fingers brushed his skin as she helped him take off that apron, his shirt and pants.  She’d assumed he’d be nude underneath both and was surprised by his boxer briefs, but didn’t dwell on the needless obstacle.  She slid the briefs down quickly and straddled him so that her breasts were pressing into his chest.  Denise was sure he hadn’t noticed that she was sans panties but eventually she’d tell on herself if things went as planned.  She dipped her free hand into the batter and trailed a deep v pattern onto his neck and chest.  His voice caught as her tongue made contact with the trail of sugary goodness and then suckled onto his skin.  Her tongue repeated the pattern over and over again until he was sticky but mostly clean, his rumbling noises getting deeper the more she licked. Those sounds were music to her ears.  
His resolve to let Denise rule her kitchen melted when she was done tracing the path of frosting with that hot pink tongue. His aggressive side took over as he murmured in her ear, “You do know how much I love being catered to but I kind of have to devour you now.” He pinned her arms behind her back with one hand, then untied and removed the apron so he could get to her body before freeing her breasts from the binding material.  There wasn’t enough batter or room between them to dip her breasts into the bowl so he coated her nipples with dollops of batter and fastened his mouth to the dark thick buds.  She gasped as her body gave in to the sensations his mouth was sending through her body.  Her head fell back and her eyes shut tightly.  Her molasses dreams entwined with the feeling of a hot wet mouth on her breasts and the scent of honey and soy and sautéed rice and noodles.  All of which were sitting abandoned on the table.  Well she wasn’t hungry for Asian confections at the moment anyway.
Any need to be in charge had vanished, replaced with the need for him alone.  Had he not been such a bad baker they would be enjoying dinner now and settling in for a round of movies.  She guessed it was an even trade off at this point.  She had worn lingerie like this more than once.  He was often frustrated trying to pull it all off and he had no patience for that this evening.  He pulled the fabric up over her ass and let it rest on her hips.  He was preparing to pull off her panties when he noticed she wasn’t wearing any—even better.  He grinned at her as he stood up with her wrapped around his waist and planted her in the seat.  He slowly plastered the remaining batter on her inner thighs completely avoiding her pussy.  His mouth licked and prodded her thighs until she was trembling and trying to pull his tongue into her wetness.   He only obliged because he was wondering if the sugary goodness on his tongue would pair well with her juices.
She was grinding against his face, making slow circles with her hips, when the timer beeped on the oven.  They both paused long enough to look at one another as if to ask, what now?  He didn’t want another batch of cupcakes to be thrown into the graveyard of baked goods that was her trash.  She didn’t want to move, either, but he broke free first.  He stood up and started walking towards her bedroom.  
“Take everything out of the stove and meet me in bed.  Oh, and just wear the apron and heels to bed okay, dear?”
She giggled again as she haphazardly arranged three pans of cupcakes on the top of the stove.  One press of the button and the oven was turned off.  She wiggled out of the girdle slowly so as not to rip it.  She paused long enough to tie the apron around her waist.  The familiar scent of molasses suffused her nostrils as the cupcakes came out of the oven.  However, when she closed her eyes, this time there was no hint of grandma’s kitchen.  There was only one person on her mind tonight. She made it back to the bedroom and smiled at her naked companion.  He was laying on his back on her bed and signaled for her to resume her position on his tongue.  She happily obliged but turned to face his toes.  She moaned as his tongue immediately got to work, diving right into her center as if no time had passed. She reached down to stroke his dick and smiled again.  She had gotten that slick stalk in her hands after all.
© red velvet 2014

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