When the La Vie en Rose replaced the old Dixie Bakery, no one took much notice, at first. But when the heady aroma of savory and sweet croissants, scones, tarts, and fine Italian coffee began to waft out of the small building every morning, noses took interest. Feet, mouths, and wallets soon followed.

After four years of study and apprenticeship in Paris, Rose had returned to the American south. She took over a tired, declining bakery in Charlotte from the retiring owners and quickly transformed it. Her Dilworth neighbors, and soon many from other surrounding affluent ‘hoods, made a point to speed past Starbucks in favor of her shop every morning. Her patrons embraced the rich sensual pleasure of a true French bakery, along with the ripe beauty of its young, South Asian owner.

Logan and Sydney walked through the screened porch and peered through the glass-paned door. A rose-shaped, hand-painted sign that read, “Closed until tomorrow. Cakes by appointment,” hung from a small nail on the door trim. They knocked. And then, they knocked again. At last, a beautiful, young Indian woman welcomed them in, with a sunny, sweet smile.

“I’m so sorry,” Rose said, pulling her long hair from its loose bun, “I was distracted in the back, and my assistant is up to her armpits in dirty pans at the moment. I’m Rose, the owner,” she said.

As they completed their introductions, Logan struggled to maintain eye contact. Rose was in a traditional, double-breasted, white chef’s jacket. She had undone the top two buttons, however, causing it to fall open in the most delicious way. Rose’s large, round, milk chocolate décolletage was delightfully on display. A sprinkle of white powder, presumably flour or sugar, lay seductively on one of her delectable breasts. Rose noticed Sydney’s eyes, rather than Logan’s, and quickly buttoned up. “Shoot. Look at me. Sorry. Baking is a hot business,” she explained with awkward embarrassment.

She was in tightly fitting cuffed short, that Rose herself had tailored from a re-purposed pair of checkered chef’s pants. Her thick, toned, brown thighs strained against the cuffs. When she turned to lead them back to her office, Logan’s eyes locked onto the full globes of her ass and followed her warm molasses-colored legs to their conclusion at her cherry Crocs. Sydney took note of Logan’s gaze and smirked.

“We’ve heard amazing things,” Sydney said with a syrupy Carolina accent as they sat down at the old oak desk. “And, we read the story in The Observer.”

Logan smiled to himself as he thought of the only thing he had really noted about that article: A shot of the lovely twenty-three-year-old proprietor in a low-cut rose print apron, smiling broadly and leaning forward with a tray of pastries. The girl knows how to market, he had thought at the time, and her tits are amazing.

Rose appraised her potential customers. The man was in his mid-forties, with dark hair, graying at the temple, and mesmerizing, violet eyes. He was tall and sharply dressed in a light blue, linen blazer and cotton candy pink shirt. He was every inch her type, and Rose knew she’d be rubbing one out thinking about him later.

The woman was younger than he, somewhere in her early thirties. She was pretty if a bit fake. Her perfectly highlighted blonde hair probably cost her four hundred dollars a month. Her face was flawless. So flawless, in fact, that Rose assumed that a very expensive dermatologist was actively involved. She had style, though. She was in a flowy, abstract print dress, that Rose recognized as that of an expensive French designer. They were, as one says, “a handsome couple.”

Rose asked the usual questions about their wedding colors, the number of guests, the food they would be serving, their preference for sponge and buttercream flavors, among other things. Along the way, they casually revealed that this was a second marriage for both of them. They mentioned that the ceremony would be in the back yard of “his” house in affluent Myers Park. They looked like money when they walked in, but that confirmed it. Rose sensed a trophy-wife situation.

After forty or so minutes of conversation, Rose said she would sketch up some ideas and they should come back in a few days. As they parted, Logan’s handshake lingered a tad longer than normal, as did his brilliant eyes, when they locked with her own big, dark chocolate pools. Rose felt her nipples stiffen into little Hershey Kisses in response to Logan’s attention.

~~~

Logan brought up the wedding cake and the pretty baker many times over those next few days. This was in sharp contrast to his utter indifference to every other wedding planning detail, and Sydney was certain that was entirely due to that ripe, brown berry of a baker. She was gorgeous, and exuded an innocent, but abundant, sexuality that Logan clearly relished.

Sydney worked hard not to be jealous with Logan. Jealousy was among the issues he had with his first wife. He liked women. He liked to admire them. And he liked to fuck them. She accepted his desire. Indeed, that was, after all, how they had gotten together. She’d met him on a plane, on a business trip. She saw his ring; he saw hers. And yet, they were fucking within an hour of landing. A long affair followed. And then, their divorces. Now, nearly two years in, Sydney sensed Logan starting to drift. She needed to feed Logan’s hunger, rather than deny it — at least before the prenup was signed.

When Logan mentioned the voluptuous baker, once again, Sydney swallowed her pride and made a strategic decision. She set his martini aside, hiked up her dress, and straddled Logan’s strong thighs. As she undulated against Logan’s growing bulge, Sydney kissed his neck and whispered in his ear.

“You like that little baker girl, don’t you? You like her curvy body? You want to hold onto her long black hair while she sucks you? While you fuck her? You want to bend her over that desk of hers and fuck that round, brown ass?” Sydney teased. Logan chuckled, but his breath had shortened, and Sydney could feel his cock harden underneath her. She was encouraged.

“You want to watch us, together? You want to watch me eat that chocolate tart?” Sydney continued.

“Yeah, baby,” Logan whispered. “I want her to spread those full, gingerbread cheeks and sit right on your face. I want to watch you tongue her pink pussy and puckered asshole while I fuck you.”

Sydney was taken aback but surprisingly turned on by Logan’s lewd words. She kissed Logan, deeply, as she moaned into his mouth. He picked her up, carried her straight to their bedroom, and tossed her roughly onto the bed. Then, he proceeded to manhandle her. Sydney’s Veronica Beard dress and Bordelle lingerie did not survive the experience, and neither did her skinny white ass. Logan was on fire as he described the dirty things he wanted to do with her and the sexy baker. It was the best sex they’d had in a while. As she lay curled next to Logan, listening to his heart beating at an excited clip, and enjoying the feeling of his thick spunk leaking from her satisfied holes, she realized that this was unlikely to remain just a fantasy.

~~~

They arrived at the bakery at the appointed hour, and this time Rose was ready for them. Logan’s pent-up expectations were more than met by Rose’s appearance. She had once again put her seamstress skills to work, this time on a highly modified chef’s jacket. She had transformed what had been a man’s extra large, into a form-fitting, sleeveless, squared neckline, mini-dress, that showed off her lovely legs, and generous cleavage, to great effect.

“Wow,” Sydney said in a flirty tone, as she laid a hand on the flute of Rose’s hourglass waist, “This is sexy as hell! Where do I get one!”

Rose blushed but was also clearly pleased. She wanted to be sexy for these people, for some reason. Who was she kidding? She worked constantly and had no time to date. She was horny, and this rich older man and his flirty fiancé turned up the flame inside her to the highest her dial would go.

She led them to the kitchen. They had it to themselves. Rose’s assistants were gone for the day. Rose had arrayed sketch paper and photographs on one of the high butcher block tables. With animated passion, she described her vision for their wedding cake. Logan found her especially delectable in that moment. Her long, shiny licorice hair swung as she gestured, her dark eyes sparkled, and her lovely breasts bounced, as she sold her vision. It would be starkly modern, in four suspended tiers. Vanilla sponge would be covered in peach-flavored buttercream, with edible jasmine flower garnishes. Logan and Sydney were very pleased and said that they loved it.

“Now, hold on! Don’t be too easy. I have samples!” Rose protested. She pulled a plain sponge cake from a locker, and then a pastry bag from the fridge. She carved a large slice from the cake, and cut it into bite-sized portions. Her hands caressed the pastry bag like a breast as she gently twisted and squeezed a swirl of buttercream onto the small servings. And then, finally, she placed jasmine petals on each piece.

As Rose bent to perform these tasks, she displayed even more of her tasty chest, while at the same time her tiny dress rode up in the back to hint at her warm, cocoa-colored butt cheeks. Logan’s mouth watered, but he wasn’t sure which enticing morsel induced it — the cake or Rose herself.

Rose produced a bottle of champagne and filled three plastic cups. “To the happy couple!” Rose toasted. “Now, with the taste of bubbly still on the back of your tongue, please…,” she said, gesturing to her samples.

“Oh my god!” Sydney moaned through a full mouth. “It’s amazing.”

“Truly. Magical. You are an artist, Rose,” Logan said, staring deeply into her eyes. Rose blushed.

“More?” Rose asked as Logan and Sydney nodded vigorously.

Rose repeated the sequence, but this time grasped the treats between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and offered them directly to her sexy customers. Logan and Sydney glanced at one another and took Rose’s offering directly into their mouths as if taking a sexual communion. Sydney grabbed Rose’s hand as she withdrew it, and pulled it back to her. Sydney had noticed buttercream on Rose’s index finger. Locking eyes with Rose, Sydney wrapped her lips around the finger, removing the buttercream with a prolonged suckle. Rose’s knees quivered.

“Hey! No fair! Why is she so special?” Logan protested.

Rose attempted to squirt a dollop from the pastry bag onto her finger, but with just one hand holding the bag, she ended up spurting a large amount over all of the fingers of her left hand. She alternated between Logan and Sydney, giving them turns to enjoy the sweet mess. The couple seemed to compete with each other as they sucked, licked, and even lightly bit Rose’s fingers until they were clean. Sydney elaborately licked her lips whenever Rose approached her, implying she was hungry for more than cake cream. Logan’s molten eyes burned right through her like a desert torch, making her clit buzz. When the tongue lashing of her sugary fingers was complete, Rose’s nipples had turned into hard caramels and her muffin was weeping buttery honey.

“Let’s have some more champagne,” Rose said, attempting to catch her breath. She nervously gulped half a glass down and then re-poured. 

“That is so tasty, I think I could just eat it straight from the bag,” Logan said with a sneaky smile. “You mind?” he said as he stuck out his tongue suggestively. Rose complied, lifting the bag and embracing it with her hands until a dollop swirled onto Logan’s tongue. 

“I think Rose should get a turn, Logan,” Sydney suggested. 

Logan gently grabbed Rose by the waist and leaned into her. Rose froze with anticipation until Logan’s lips finally met her own. After a moment’s hesitation, she opened her wine-colored lips to accept his mouth and tongue and enjoyed the creamy peach flavor. Logan pulled her closer, and Rose felt her breasts press into his firm chest, as his hands moved along her lower back to the curve of her ass. Rose, for a second, almost forgot Sydney was even there and startled when Sydney cleared her throat. 

“Hchmmp-hmmm. O.K., ya’ll. Let’s not forget about me,” Sydney said with a smile in her voice. Rose turned to look at her and found Sydney had rid herself of her button-front shirt dress and was standing in burgundy lace panties and bra. At the same moment, Logan expertly released Rose's voluminous breasts from her white bra. They each set upon her, one on the left, the other on the right, sucking her curant-colored nipples into their mouths and fondling her every curve like a four-handed, lusty animal. Rose threw her head back in pleasure.

"Best ... clients ... ever," Rose joked.

Logan lifted her from the high butcher block and lay her down on a lower stainless steel table, nearby. She squealed slightly as she felt the cold table against her back, and then squealed louder as Sydney squirted buttercream onto her nipple and sucked it off. Logan removed Rose's Crocs, and then slipped her white thong over her toasty legs.

"Great idea, Sydney!” Logan laughed, as he quickly shed his clothes. Why don't you fully decorate our dessert for us!"

Sydney drew a long line of piping from Rose's thighs up to her lovely brown boobs, taking care to create florettes and extra swirls on her nipples, around her belly button, and over her smoothly shaved mound. Logan followed one of the piping lines, dragging his tongue from her hip to the delicate undercurve of her left breast. He swept up a fair amount, and then kissed Rose, transferring the sweet cream from his tongue to hers. The lewd inference was obvious, and Rose squirmed with excitement. Sydney followed Logan's lead, likewise sharing her harvest with Rose. They combined forces when attending to her mound, one flicking away the buttercream while the other flicked at her wet lips and oozing hood.

"Fuck! Y'all are making me crazy!" Rose cried.

"Here, let's turn her over," Logan said once they had licked Rose, mostly clean. "I need to check out that curvy ass." He adjusted Rose so that her legs were spread wide and hanging over the edge of the shiny table. He kissed his way from her hamstrings to the globes of her prodigious butt.

"Want some of this?” Sydney asked, holding the mostly drained pastry bag.

"No," answered Logan, "I think I want to sample this tasty cake just on its own, right now."

Logan pressed his face fully into the cleavage of Rose's ass; kissing the silky smooth skin as he explored her inner cheeks. When he kissed Rose's puckered starfish, she broke out in goosebumps, and he could feel her body shudder. Rose was no prude, and she'd had plenty of adventurous sex in Paris, but no one had ever done that before. And she loved it. Logan pulled Rose further back on the table until the tippy-toes of her pretty arched, bare feet touched the tile floor. Logan crouched between her legs and intensely dove into the chocolate delight before him.

"Uhhhh," Rose moaned when Logan's tongue snaked into her dripping pussy, and then “Aaaaargh," when he drilled her asshole. Then, "Fuuuuck meeeee," as he alternated between her two holes. He delved ever more deeply.

"Noooo," Rose groaned. "I mean, really, fuck me. I need cock!"

Logan stood and did as she asked, thrusting into her warm center in just a few thrusts. Rose clutched the cold steel as if bracing herself.

“Hard. Harder. Please.” Rose gasped in little more than a whisper. Logan gave Rose’s ass a swat while he deepened and quickened his thrusts. He wound Rose’s hair into his fist and pulled her head back until her tits nearly left the table.

“Ooohhh,” Rose’s mouth opened like a donut as she writhed, prone on the cold, hard table. She opened her eyes to see Sydney sitting on the butcher block. She had pulled one of her small tits from her bra and was squeezing and pinching her nipple. Her other hand was between her spread legs, gushing in and out of her small, wet pussy.

“Fuck her, Logan. Fuck that beautiful, brown slut,” Sydney encouraged.

“Aaaah!” Rose groaned as Logan suddenly withdrew. He lifted Rose’s legs and returned her to her back.

“I think I’d like to watch those juicy melons bounce while I fuck you,” Logan growled.

He re-entered Rose, to the hilt, in a single long thrust. She looked up at Logan, admiring his muscled, hairy torso, and strong arms. When she made eye contact with his hungry wolf eyes, she felt her first tremor.

“Yes! Fuck!!!” Rose screamed.

Suddenly, Sydney was once more at her side. She drained the rest of the pastry bag over Rose’s torso in a buttercream Jackson Pollack and commenced licking up her work.

Logan thrust into Rose at a slightly upward angle. His thick head pressed firmly against Rose’s g-spot with every pass, and it induced a sensation Rose was not sure she had ever felt before.

“Ugh, ugh, fuck, yes!” Rose babbled.

But the sensations rose tenfold when Sydney slid her tongue down Rose’s body and flicked at her swollen strawberry. She arched on the table, feeling her entire body contract with ecstatic tension. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her orgasm began somewhere far away. And then it was upon her. It was like a dull knife, pushing through a seven-layer cake, the sponge resisting and then giving way, with each layer thicker than the last.

“Eeeeeeeh!” Rose screamed through gritted teeth.

She spasmed and twisted involuntarily away from Logan’s cock and Sydney’s tongue. Logan wasn’t having it, however, and held her firm to the table as he continued to fuck Rose hard, building to his own nut. Tears ran from the corners of Rose’s eyes, and saliva dripped from her mouth.

“Ah! Ah! Argh!” Logan groaned when he at last pulled out. He fired four or five long ropes across Rose’s belly and still quivering tits. Sydney swept in, gathering a mixture of Rose’s sweet peach buttercream and Logan’s briny icing, onto her tongue. She offered it up to Rose, who met her with a hungry, open mouth. They French kissed, so long and so passionately, that Logan almost felt left out.

Sydney pulled away from Rose, stood, and smiled, proudly, at Logan. Yes, he thought to himself, Sydney is the marrying kind. Rose curled into a ball, caressing herself and savoring the ecstasy she had just experienced. She too gave Logan a smile. And this is not the last time that I will sample the wares of this sexy baker.