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A couple of years ago life showed me the middle finger. At first I lost my girlfriend – we had been dating for about five years back then. I had to move out of our apartment that now became hers. Then, to make things even worse and to prove that life loves to kick you when you are down, I lost my job.

Luckily I got laid off after I had already moved into a new place. But I needed a steady influx of money to pay rent, to keep lights on and to put something to eat in my belly. So I needed a job fast.

When I went buying some bread – there was an awesome and affordable bakery one block away from my new place – on my first day being unemployed a piece paper hanging next to the counter: Help wanted. No qualification necessary. Eager to get up early. Eager to work hard and to learn. Payday, okay. Starting date: Yesterday. Just apply in store.

Not even a minute later I was applying for the job. I told the woman behind the counter that I was interested in working for them. After hearing those words coming over my lips she checked me from tip to toe: “Yes, she might like you.”

Then she called for the manager. I had to wait a few minutes until he showed up. He excused himself for letting me wait, then he politely asked me to follow him into his office. There he told me what the job was about: “His wife, the main baker, needed help baking bread in the morning. Her previous help came up with the great idea to open up his own bakery. And so far we hadn’t found a suitable replacement.”

I listened, I nodded with my head. The manager kept on going: “Tell me something about your previous work experience.”

So I told him about about my professional side. What jobs I had worked – with an approximate date, because remembering precis numbers on the go, just not doable for me – my education and so on, and son. He was pleased with what he heard. He also checked me from tip to toe: “Yes, that could work. She might like you. Wanna give it a try?”

Normally I am not the best in decision making, but back then, I just said yes. It felt like the right thing to do. Then we shook hands and then he told me that my first workday would be tomorrow. And that it will kick off at two o’clock in the morning. I had to take a deep breath in and out when he told me the last thing, but well, I had been through worse.

After we had agreed on me working for him he showed me around. He introduced me to the others that were currently working. He showed me the massive oven, the storage room and everything else. When the tour was finished he showed me the back door: “Just knock here tomorrow. She will open up and let you in. And then we see.”

In the next morning, or let’s say in the following night, I was able to drag my body out of my bed before two o’clock. I quickly brushed my teeth, then I put on some clothes, then I went over to the bakery. Luckily I didn’t had to commute through half of the city I was living in to reach my workplace.

After arriving at the bakery I went to the backside of the building. Lights were already shining out of the bakery windows. Then I knocked at the backdoor. I did as the manager – as I later found out was the owner of the place too – told me on the day before. It took a few minutes and she opened up the door.

She was an about fifty four year old women. She was wearing a tight fitting deep cut top, some tight sitting, but comfy looking pants and a pair of work shoes. She checked me out from tip to toe. I did the same. And I asked myself, why is she wearing next to nothing while being at work?

Without wasting to many words she, the baker, called me inside. And as soon as I was inside the bakery, I realized why she wasn’t wearing that many clothes: The massive probably a century old gas fired oven was heating the place more than just well. It didn’t took long and I was working with as less clothes on as anyhow efficient.

The work itself, wasn’t mentally demanding at all. At least not on the first day. She mostly made me carry around things. She made me clean things. And she made me brew some fresh coffee for the two of us. And, she gave me more than one opportunity to look down her cleavage or to stare at her ass while bending over. She had caught my eye.

The second day at work was more or less the same as the first one. With one minor difference: The baker wasn’t politely asking me to do something for her, she was commanding me to things for her.

And I must admit, when she was using her harsh commanding voice a shiver went through my body. And my dick might have gotten a little bit harder as he already was, because as mentioned above, she was showing off her curves at every possibility.

The work itself, it was okay. It was physically exhausting, I was really tired on my second day at work, because I wasn’t used to get out of bed about and hour and a half after midnight, but I liked the job. It had something full filling helping the baker turning flour into some delicious bread. It gave you the sense of having accomplished something, and that every day.

On the third day it happened for the first time. When the baker gave me an order, she used her commanding voice, I gave her a “Yes, ma’am” to confirm that I understood what she had told me to do. A massive smile appeared on her normally pretty stoic face.

And also on my third work day, we both more or less figured out that the two of us working together had potential. We were functioning as a team, sort off. She was calling the shots, I did as I was told.

During our breakfast break, normally around five o’clock in the morning, we had some chit chat. We talked a little bit about ourselves. Our past, things we like and the weather. We got along with each other. We even had a couple of laughs together.

It was also on work day three that I told the baker that I was single. It came up in a conversation, it slipped out of me and it put a nothing but pleased expression on the bakers face. Then she was thinking out loud: “So you are single. What a pity. With your looks, women must be chasing after you. Maybe you don’t know how to behave yourself. But that can be changed.”

I listened to her, processed what she had said and quickly forgot about it. But she for sure did not. She probably made the decision to educate me, to turn me into a better man during that conversation.

The forth work day four went over without any particular incidents. Then the weekend came by. I probably spent it drinking with some friends and chasing after some women. Without any success, if I remember correctly.

On Monday morning, work day five, I showed up a two o’clock in the morning again. Still a little bit hungover and more than just a little bit horny. You know, that post alcoholic horny that drives you nuts. So working with the baker, whom was running around in more than just revealing clothes, was a very hot thing to do.

The baker behaved as all the time. She bent over a lot. On that Monday there was a constant hard one between my legs. I did more than just checking her out, I lusted for her. I undressed her with my eyes. I caught myself starring at her while forgetting about everything else.

She ignored my behavior as good as she could. She barked out her commands – she had a more then satisfied expression on her face while she did so – in an even harsher way. I complied. I did everything that she asked me to do. But I struggled. I wanted nothing but her. To bend her over the counter top, to pull down her pants and to stick my needy and rock hard dick inside her.

After working for about two and half hours, she probably had enough of my behavior. She called me out for it: “How about getting some work done instead of undressing me with your eyes?”

A shiver went through my body. She had caught me. I froze. I wanted to open up my mouth to say something. To excuse myself. But I failed horrible. It was the baker that did the talking: “But I appreciate that you like me, that I am a that huge turn on for you.”

Then she checked me from tip to toe: “And to be honest, I am more than just tempted to help you with your boner problem. But…”

She stopped in mid sentence. One question popped up in my head. And to my surprise it came out of my mouth: “But what?”

A smile appeared on her face: “But you have to promise me something in exchange.”

Horny as I was, I would have done everything she asked me. All I wanted was a relief. A little cum shot to get horny out of my mind. So I nodded with my head: “I will do everything you ask me to do.”

The biggest smile so far appeared on her face: “Glad to hear. I am asking one simple thing of you. I bet you jerk off a lot. Doing something like that is nothing but filthy and disgusting. So when you promise to stop doing something filthy and degenerative, I will help you with your boner problem.”

Not even a second later the following came out of my mouth: “Yes, we got a deal. Now, please.”

With a more than just satisfied expression on her face she ordered me to drop my pants. The moment I set my boner free she liked her lips. Then she pulled me closer to her. And then one of her hands began to go up and down on my rock hard dick. The baker, my only coworker for the bigger part of my work day, was jerking me off.

She knew what she was doing. She hit the right pace. She grabbed my dick not to gentle, but not to hard either. She clearly had some experience on that field. And she ordered me to look her in the eyes while she took care of my hard wood. I moaned out a “Yes, ma’am” and did what she asked me to do.

Every time her and went up and down my dick it felt better and better. I began to drift off elsewhere while my intense moaning was filling the bakery. It felt so fucking good. I involuntarily closed my eyes. The moment it happened she stopped. Then she slapped my rock hard dick: “Open your eyes. Stay with me.”

Again I moaned out a yes. Then I looked her in the eyes again. The moment we made contact her hand went up and down my pre cum spitting dick again.

I was already more than just close to on orgasm. Just a few more thrusts then my balls would unload themselves. But it didn’t happened. She knew how to keep me on the edge. She was playing with me. My desperation for a relief grew with every stroke she gave me. I begged her to let me cum.

She ignored my begging. She kept on going. Until, until she gave me one last stroke and then my balls unloaded themselves. She caught my cum with her hands. She caught every last drop of it while my body was trembling. While I was still looking her in the eyes. It came nothing but good.

She gave me a couple of seconds. Then she lifted her cum covered hand up and in front of my face: “Lick my hand clean. Now.”

Once more I did what she told me to do. I licked my cum off her hand. I swallowed every last drop of it. And then I opened up my mouth to show her that I had obeyed her order. A satisfied smile appeared on her face when she saw my empty mouth.

Then she reminded me off the deal: “That was your last orgasm until I allow you to cum again, understood?”

I nodded with my head while a “Yes, ma’am” came out of my mouth. I promised her to keep my hands off myself. To stop jerking off. And again, a smile, a more than just satisfied expression appeared on her face: “So far, you stand to you words. I like that.”

After she had drained my balls we went back to work. The rest of the day went over without anything out of the typical happening. The upcoming days were the same, besides one minor thing: I got hornier and hornier with the day. Something that would have consequences one day. Pretty damn hot consequences.

NSFW: yes

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