After washing all the remnants of pie from his bountiful pecs with my mouth, he groans, "thank you for the worship, what else can I sample"? He stands up straight and smiles at the look of my face, covered in cream and crust.

I take his hand and lead him away from the counter area, pull up a chair and motion for him to have a seat. Before sitting down, the delicious man pulls off his boxer briefs and tosses them to the floor. Just before sitting down, I place a thick, double cream pie on the chair He grins and slowly, carefully places his hot ass over the contained creamy mess and sits down.

The cream oozes out from around his balls, erect cock and his legs, he has a questionable look on his face and I respond to it, "first time pie sitting, eh? You have that look".

"It's messy, sticky, yet incredibly arousing", he replies while rubbing his butt into the creamy dessert. "I want more pie", he says aloud, almost surprising himself.

Without missing a beat, I pick up two more pies, more banana cream, and approach him. He leans back in his chair and watches me mannveour toward him with the pies. I pass a pie to mister handsome and ask him to hold it for a moment, he grins again and follows orders.

With my other hand, I place my hard dick into the pie, swirling it around to coat it in thick cream. He watches closely, licks his lips and looks up at me standing over him. I motion for him to move forward so that his face is directly in line with my cock and then I swing it and the cock and cream splat loudly onto the side of his face. I dip my member again and slap him with it on the other side of his face, he moans.

He then gently takes hold of my throbbing manhood and smears it with pie and begins to paint his face with it. His tongue tickles my shaft, slurping up cream and then his mouth devours my cock.

I'm holding a pie, he has a pie in his lap, he's giving me the best blow job ever and I'm floating in ecstacy from receiving his erotic expression.

Suddenly, I hear a tap at the door. Then another tap. I pull out from his face and wonder who could be at the bakery shop door at this hour?

A voice, though muffled by the glass, says, "I'm here for my special order, sorry I'm late". The lights are out, the windows are covered, and all is quite for a moment.

I look at the door, then back at the manly creamed customer sitting down and ask, "I thought you were the special order guy, who are you?"