The tray

The rolls were out of the oven and the shop still smelled like butter and heat. I am 23, a grown woman, and the tray in my hands was work. Black hair in two buns, striped tee, flour up my wrists. Max and Sable knocked on the alley door at the time we had set. We had agreed on Monday, wide awake, that if I wanted them after the bake I would leave the alley light on. The light was on. I let them in and locked the door behind them. Cases filled, hands needing a wash before any romance got ideas.

I said I still wanted them. Max said he had wanted me since he saw the light. Sable said she had brought her yes and also two coffees. They did not touch me until the tray was down and my hands were clean. I like that. Praise started there, before the sex, Sable telling me the rolls had a good skin and Max saying he could tell I had not rushed the proof. Specific. I felt it in my chest and in my cunt. I told them the back room, not the bench, because food stays food.

In the back room Sable kissed me like she had been patient on purpose. Max kissed my neck and asked if he could lift the tee. I said yes. Sable said my stomach was soft and strong and she wanted her mouth on it. She went down from there and licked my cunt until I had to hold the shelf, and praised every sound. Max stroked his cock and told me I looked like a woman who knew her own mind. I do. I sucked his cock and let the head fuck into my mouth only as far as I wanted, while Sable fucked two fingers into my cunt, slow. I came with my hand braced on his hip, muffled, happy.

He asked where. I said cum in my mouth if he warned me, our agreement. He warned me. I swallowed his cum. Then I put Sable on the closed storage chest and licked her cunt while Max kissed her and told her she was beautiful when she let go. My tongue stayed on her clit. She came laughing, one hand on my buns. I let her.

We ate a torn roll that would not have sold. I told them I wanted them back on Thursday. They said yes before the coffee cooled.