Baker’s Dozen 1

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The night was quiet as I baked. Baked isn't as glamorous when I use it. By bake I mean, I placed frozen dough on pans lined with wax paper, sprayed with nonstick stuff, and put them in an oven. There's no sifting or measuring for me.

I work in a grocery store. I don't mind it, though. My night starts at midnight, when I put my finger on a small device that clocks me in, grab a cart, and begin removing out of date product from the shelves. All the while I make a list of what I need to replace said stock.

All in all, pretty dull, but I don't mind it, though. The night goes as usual, put the pies in the oven, get the French breads and sweet goods in the queue, and then comes the raw dough products. This routine is used every night, and it makes the time pass quickly, since I can lose myself in space and let the mind wander while the body performs the work on its own.

'Hi Mike. How you doing tonight?' startled me a bit when I was traying up some Italian loaves. The voice was high and familiar. It was Marsha, the overnight clerk.

She was attractive in the non-traditional way. She wasn't pretty, really, but she wasn't ugly. She was pretty average all around, except she was half Cherokee and it showed in her skin color. 'I'm good, Marsha.

Same shit, different night, ya know?' 'Yeah, same here. Whacha makin?' 'This?' holding up a long, white, doughy roll of what passes for Italian bread. 'Your favorite. Italian.

Why is that?' 'Just me' I said, holding back that I was wondering what she looked like naked, darkly tanned lags wrapped up in mine, and my hand in her hair. 'Besides, what are friends for?' She smiled her average smile and I watched as her average ass bounced away. The hours passed, Marsha took her bread, and when I got home I slept after masturbating with an image of her in my mind, ass in the air and filled with my cock.

Being a shy guy, I would never approach them and if I could Marsha's taken. So are the other women I work with. Just once, I wanted what happened in my head to come to life. Little did I know, things were about to change.

This was late night, and though it wasn't a dangerous neighborhood but I rolled by slowly anyways, and I stopped when I saw the older woman in the driver's seat. I pulled up next to her and stopped. 'Do you need help, ma'am?' She looked up and smiled. 'Why yes.

Yes I do. It seems I've broke down and my phone is dead. Could I use yours?' 'I don't have one, but I can give you a ride to somewhere to call a tow truck. ' 'My hero.

Older for sure, how much older was anyone's guess, but definitely a cougar. I hadn't really seen many of those. Fiery red hair pulled back in a bun, glasses, and a business suit that could be called borderline slutty but mostly suggestive. The suit was dark with a very boxy low cut top.

A belt in the middle and a knee length skirt below showing nice legs and high heels. You could she the age in her face, but it was more maturity than anything. A woman who had been places, seen things, and had a good time of it. 'So.

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