There it is. The bread--my bread--sits on my bed awaiting me.
Carefully I remove its protective layers. It tries to hide itself from me but I know I have to let out its beauty.
It gives me a message of love, nestled in its layers, to encourage me to consummate our love. I will cuddle you darling, cuddle you and more.
Finally the light of its beauty shines through the barriers. There is a pause as I stand awestruck by its beauty, which it takes as judgment and tries to hide itself but I will not have that.
There it lies on my bed, almost naked. Look at that bun. That sexy bitch.
I hold it in my hands, marvelling at it. I can scarcely believe this is happening, finally after such a long wait. I just--I have to--
I have to lick it, taste the--oh god. It's just so good, I--
Oh god it feels so good. Oh--oh cinnamon.
How do you like these buns, boys?
The bun does things to me I've never felt before. It all feels so incredible. Now it's my turn to return the favor.
I bite into it, breaking the flesh as the taste of cinnamon and raisins flood my mouth, driving my teeth deeper. It encourages me, begging for more--
I never knew raisins could be so kinky.
Gently I lick the wound, stemming the flow of cinnamony raisin blood and allowing the sensation to flood over me. I lubricate my mouth as much as I can with the taste, preparing myself for what will come next.
It's so big and hard, and it's in my mouth--I tell myself I can't handle it but I can feel the bread urging me on, to take in farther, deeper--
I bite down, relishing the renewed flow of cinnamon and raisins in my mouth, and the bread can't handle it, it's too much--
Oh cinnamon, you naughty little bun.
And Chadalepou?
Chadalepou watches.
