STORY 22- BANANA AFTERNOON
I was flipping through my recipe box when I found it-the perfect recipe. My mother’s banana cake recipe was my favorite recipe of all time.
I used to make this cake at least twice a year-leaving my bananas to ripen until they attracted fruit flies. After they were perfectly ripened, I’d carefully mash them in a dish, the scent filling my nostrils.
The smell reminded me of summer and winter all wrapped into one. I could almost picture myself prancing around in my mom’s kitchen in my old red bikini with the smell of banana cake in my nostrils. Making this cake was the only real time I ever could relax in the kitchen.
And I hadn’t done it in so long.
The day I rediscovered the recipe I was wandering around without a bra because of the hot summer weather. I needed to wear next to nothing to survive in the 105-degree heat. It was a Sunday, a perfect day for baking, and I didn’t have air conditioning.
The sun was seeping through my screens, attacking everything in its path. The sweat dripped down my forehead as I closed the recipe box and walked over to the kitchen counter. Setting the card down, I heard a noise in the other room. Marcus was taking a nap. He’d had a long night.
As a musician, he often had gigs that lasted until the early morning. It was noon when I began to cook. I could hear him rustling the covers.
I climbed up onto the counter to sort through my cake pans. I wasn’t sure what one I wanted exactly. I had inherited a variety of pans from my mother. I tried to be quiet as I clanked through all the pans, but I knew I was making too much noise.
Marcus would awaken at any second and wonder what was going on.
As the oven preheated I started to sweat even more and the curls from my long, black ponytail stuck to my moist neck. I had always cleaned the house naked and the heat was so unbearable it was time to experiment with nude cooking.
I stripped off my white tank top and little cotton shorts and was left with my favorite panties, white lace with little black bows along the top border.
My theory that I was being too loud was confirmed as I heard Marcus awaken and slam the bathroom door while I was humming and mixing in the baking powder. I sipped my iced tea and continued my mixing.
My entire kitchen felt like the center of the sun as the oven heated up, anxiously awaiting the cake to be inserted into its hot center.
“What are you doing in there?” Five minutes after entering the bathroom, Marcus stepped out of the bathroom clad in a fluffy green bath towel. His semi-long, blond hair dripped onto the floor.
“Baking, why?” I bent over, assed up in the air, and picked up a piece of banana that had fallen to the floor.
“Ahhh,” Marcus said, still standing in the same spot. “Can I watch you?”
I sucked the banana off my finger as I stared at his damp face. “Yeah, sure, why not?”
The cake batter smelled good as I finished mixing it. “Shit, I forgot to flour the pan!”‘
Marcus was now sitting in his towel on a barstool in the doorway of the kitchen. “Why don’t you just make cupcakes?” he asked and shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re a genius,” I said as I climbed back onto the counter to dig through my pans once again.
I could smell Marcus sitting on the stool. He had just shaved and his aftershave was floating around the kitchen, up my nostrils and into my little bowed undies. The flour I had carelessly spilled on the countertop stuck to my shins as I dug through the pans.
The sweat had made my body sticky, and the flour was clinging and hardening into my damp legs.
“Eureka!” I yelled as I found my two cupcake tins. I couldn’t even remember the last time I used them.
Lining the tins with multi-colored paper cups, I asked Marcus about his gig. “So, did you have groupies all over you last night?”
“Of course,” he answered, “would you expect anything less?”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” I said, finishing up with a blue paper cup. “No, there weren’t many groupies there,” he said, “and I only though about your sweet ass all night.” Marcus ran his fingers through his hair and wiped his hand on his towel.
“Why don’t you take your towel off?” I asked him as I spooned the batter into the cups.
“Just because you’re naked doesn’t mean I wanna strip down completely,” he said, smiling. His eyes lit up as he stood and folded his arms across his chest.
My eyes shifted down as his towel loosened and fell to the floor.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.
“Join the club,” I said as I sucked the batter off of my fingertips, one by one.
I finished filling the paper cups and put the pans into the steaming oven. They had to cook for twenty minutes-no more, no less. I carefully adjusted the timer. I would be devastated if my cupcakes didn’t turn out perfectly.
When I started to clean the counter, I heard Marcus approaching. He put his arms around my waist as I wiped down the bits of flour, sugar and banana from the tile. I turned the water on and filled the mixing bowl as Marcus ran his fingers up and down my sides, tingles of pleasure ripping through my body.
I grabbed the sponge and started to rinse all the spoons as his fingers grazed my bare back and went down to the white lace panties I loved so much. My back arched and I moaned as he grabbed my ass and began to lick the sweat off my neck.
“Mmmm,” I said softly. “I’m trying to clean up.”
“So am I,” he said as he hooked his fingers into my panties and slid them down to the floor.
I moaned and switched the water off. I felt his warmth on me as his fingers found their way to the front of my body. The scent of his clean hair and aftershave filled my pores as he stroked my wet center.