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?Gay Cake? row rumbles on! The headline was plastered over half the front page of the Belfast Telegraph.I drop the newspaper onto the counter along with the morning post. The Asher?s bakery story is still the main talking point. I scan the first paragraph, shaking my head that people in the 21st century would refuse to make a cake with the icing saying ?Supporting Gay marriage? as it is against their religion.I scroll through my phone, reading the newspaper?s Twitter feed as I boil the kettle for a cup of tea before beginning work. There seems to be a lot of gay people looking for cakes I think to myself as I read the comments in support of the man who was told he couldn?t have his cake. I look up at my shop sign and then pick up the phone and take a picture.I retweet the? gay cake? story with a picture of my shop and the message ?Patti?s Cakes can bake you a cake, gay, straight or anywhere in between.?By the time I cleaned down the worktops that evening, I had seventeen orders for designer cakes with a gay or Pride twist.I was just putting the mixer back together when the shop bell rang. I walk out, drying my hands to see a young woman standing looking around the shop. She was admiring the photos of previous cakes I had been commissioned for. I make cake sculptures really. A sponge cake leaning tower of Pisa, a chocolate ganache set of books or, and this photo wasn?t on the wall, a Swiss roll cock and balls.She nervously turns, already blushing before she Beşevler escort even starts to speak.?Are you Patti???Yes. Well, I?m Patricia, but it seemed too good a sales gimmick to miss.??I saw your tweet. You timed that rather well. I love your work.?She looked around the walls again, before turning back to me. She was cute and really attractive. She looked like she had come from work. I could see glimpses of skirt and blouse under her coat. She was elegant, with long blonde hair. Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked at me.?Do you work from photographs or real life?? She paused. ?How realistic can you be???I guess that depends.? I walk over to some of the pictures. I was intrigued by what she wanted.?Something like the Leaning Tower of Pisa was from a photograph. But this one,? I pointed to a wedding cake with a marzipan couple; the bride in her gown and the groom in a football strip. ?This one was done from a mixture of photographs and I modelled the bride and groom?s faces from life.??I need you to make me a cake,? she blurts out, ?but it has to be a perfect likeness.?I smile, wondering what sort of cake she would want that would cause her such embarrassment.?Come into the kitchen,? I suggest as I lock the door and turn the sign round to CLOSED.I offer her a seat while I boil the kettle to make a pot of tea. As the kettle boils, I look at her again. She had taken her coat off and I can see her figure properly. While Çankaya escort bayan she is slim, her boobs are ample and she carries them well, the blouse stretched tight across her chest.As `I place the mug of tea on the table, along with milk carton and sugar bowl, I sit down opposite and begin.?What sort of cake are you looking for?? I ask gently, opening my notebook and getting ready to take notes.?I want a perfect copy of my boobs.? She states, looking up at me, unsure how I?d respond.?When you say perfect, as in size???Size, colour, texture of nipples, I want an edible pair of my tits.?She sits, looking at me. She?s smiling, but it isn?t a joking smile. This girl is perfectly serious.I smile back as my mind races. Practically it isn?t a problem. I can sculpt a cake into any shape, nipple texture probably marshmallows and colour was just a case of matching her skin tone. It was just the whole perfect sized thing.?Well?? she enquires??Yes I can do it, but I will have to take some measurements etc.??Of course,? she replies, standing up and beginning to unbutton her blouse.As I watch this girl begin to undress, I realise I don?t even know her name. The thought of her revealing herself to me begins to excite me. I couldn?t have explained why it excited me. I?d never really been attracted to women, beyond an appreciation of a good-looking girl?s beauty and yet I had found this girl attractive from the moment she entered Escort Cebeci my shop. Now, I sit transfixed, pencil in hand, staring at her as she unveils herself, the wait between buttons seems to go on forever.She removes her blouse and stands in a blue polka dot bra. She suddenly seems unsure, as if she realises I?m not who she thought I was. Then with a deep breath, she reaches behind and unclasps the strap. I watch as the breasts drop by the tiniest amount as their support is removed. This girl has young firm boobs. As the material slips away, I can see the twin globes of the most perfect pair of breasts I had ever seen. The skin is flawless. A smooth expanse of white is topped by two glorious pink nipples. I watch them hardening slightly in the cool air.She stands, hands on hips, looking at me. One eyebrow raised, as if in defiance.I stand and slowly approach. I can feel my hips begin to sway as I move, cat-like towards her. My hand reaches out to caress her flesh, to feel the curve of the twin globes. As I slide my finger over her nipple, I whisper, almost breathlessly,?Do you want the nipples hard or soft??She closes her eyes and sighs. Her nipple responds to my touch. I can feel it grow as I run my fingertip over the areola. The nub growing, the pinkness flushed as I press my finger and thumb against it, feeling the texture. She groans as I roll it.My hands move over the breasts, feeling the fullness, their weight. I crouch down to take a closer look. My eyes moving over the nipples, my breath held as I look. But then, inextricably, my mouth is drawn to it. Without thinking, my mouth opens and I take her nipple into my mouth. My tongue circling the nipple, swirling over it as my lips close around it, suckling. Feeling the heat of her in my mouth.