Chapter 1

Now that her two grown children were a half continent away, Millicent March had taken up a new hobby in a long neglected room of her luxury penthouse. She had seldom ventured into her "top-of-the-line" kitchen ever since the messy divorce from her cheating spouse a decade ago and her offspring's departure for university. Now that she had time on her hands, it seemed like a good idea to put the equipment into use and see if her mother's old recipes were still apropos for modern-day consumption.

She had tired of the sweaty hours in the well-used exercise room sitting on top of the exercise bike working hard to make her thighs and buttocks trim and shapely for male enjoyment. In all honesty, she was disappointed with the response from the immediate male population because she knew her figure was easily in the top ten percent of feminine bodies regardless of age or economic circumstance.

Millicent would be the first to admit that she was a bit of a prude.

She had never taken drugs of any type and stayed away from cigarettes and booze because she had seen what they had done to her mother. Her mother Millicent the First was a top-notch cook and had won prizes in contests for several decades before her untimely demise in a boating accident involving the over-indulgence of gin long before the traditional "Happy-hour".

Her ex-husband Randy, may he rot in eternal damnation, was a philander of the worse sort but she never suspected it until she found her best friend Rhonda's panties in his trouser pocket on an early Saturday morning on her way to the cleaners.

Her initial outrage was further added to when she found out that her teenaged children, Little Millicent and Michael, both knew of their father's disgusting habits long before she had inadvertently discovered them on that fateful Saturday morning. It upset her when they both seemed to accept it as normal and that she was "over-reacting" to the lack of faithfulness.

Her ex-husband was now contending with a has-been, phony-boobed screen actress with Botox issues and a reputed mother-in-law from hell. She wished them every calamity imaginable on the road to perdition. The fact that her children visited their father and his new bride each summer was a sore spot but she was more accepting of this familial betrayal of late since they were no longer in residence in her home. Her daughter, Little Millicent, was a mini edition of her mom right down to the unusually large bosom that naturally blossomed right after her eighteenth birthday.

Her beloved son Michael was most likely gay judging from her close daily observations, but he had not "come out" as yet and she was in no hurry to hear the long-suspected news. He was a darling boy with complete lack of mean-spiritedness and in her opinion too willing to accept things at face value. She certainly didn't like most of his friends who were sticky-fingered and ready to take advantage of him in any situation. Anyway, both of her children were out on their own now and she was totally resigned to the inevitability of the situation.

The cooking project started when she was asked by the new pastor to bake a cake for the church bazaar which would then be sold at an auction for much-needed funds to service the food bank and the home for unwed mothers. Millie agreed merely because she did not want to seem too detached from the many plights of the common man.

She knew she had all of the equipment necessary along with a fantastic gas oven designed for professional use and she remembered all her mother's lessons about baking so she was reasonably confidant she would not make a fool of herself in front of the church elders.

Millicent had actually become more attractive in recent years because she tended to take quite good care of her body and had done the work necessary to fix her silly chipped tooth that make her look like a floozy when she smiled. She had gotten into the habit of shaving her pubic area and followed a strict diet to keep her metabolism on a steady course. Her disproportionally huge boobs were naturally perky and had not yet begun to sag.

Even with her efforts at physical improvement, she was not getting any action lately and she figured it was because she was not into the whole texting, networking, social media thing that made her ashamed to be a member of the human race. In fact, the last time she had gotten laid it was by mistake about six months ago when she went to a friend's daughter's wedding and got nailed by a drunken "best man" in the pantry thinking she was the bride's mother. She never mentioned it to her alcoholic friend because her suspicion was that the sly thing had substituted her as a "fill-in" piece of ass for the young man's pleasure not wanting him to see how badly her rear end had surrendered to the laws of gravity.

She never had gotten the boy's name but he was easily the tallest and most muscular of males at the wedding and she had to admit the experience was welcome because it reminded her of her first boyfriend who was a crude footballer with a macho attitude that suited her to a tee. She often wished her own husband would have been more assertive in the bedroom and made her do some of the nasty things she didn't mind being forced to do by a demanding partner.

Millicent had carefully hidden a huge dildo at ass-height inside the walk-in closet in her bedroom suite and generally used it to exercise her internal needs on a nightly basis. She particularly had become accustomed to taking it full length into her rear door because she had become terribly addicted to the stretching sensation when it was fully buried. She was thoroughly ashamed of her habit and hoped that no other person would discover her dreadful depravity. Her orgasms had progressed to the point that she was forced time after time to fall in a shuddering heap on the white fluffy carpet right after every completed session.

She remembered her mother who was prone to soaking up the gin early in the day becoming disturbingly aroused by the cooking of special treats. She would often run to her bedroom and lock the door making fearful noises after she finished a tasty dish. It wasn't until she was older that she realized the cooking and baking of treats stimulated her libido to the breaking point and she needed release more often than not.