2002-12-13 � Dirty & Delicious: Both at Once

Birthdays are taken very seriously here in the chambers. Nary a one passes without an official party. I have noticed that for the more pleasant of our co-workers the parties are more extravagant and therefore more effort goes into the planning and execution of the festivities. That's why I was so excited to hear that our beloved Ilene's birthday was coming up.

Ilene, as you may recall, serves a vital function for all the judges in our office in that she mans the door in a quasi-receptionist's capacity, but in actual fact she's a part of Judge Selma's chambers. Because of her position, my judge actually employs two secretaries and Ilene handles matters as they overflow. However, because she is part of our chambers, we felt responsible for the birthday festivities and gladly took them on.

Ellen, who makes the most wonderful baked goods, volunteered to make a cake and we all cheered. We should have recognized the glint in her eye as evil, but at the time it looked like party planning excitement.

On Ilene's birthday, Ellen brought in a covered cake plate and put it on the file cabinets near her desk. No one took much notice of the cake plate, nor thought it out of place as a birthday celebration was to be had later that afternoon. We all went about our work, gleefully ignorant of what lay below the cover. I honestly don't know how Ellen could resist telling anybody about it.

When it finally came time for the party we all gathered around the conference table. There were highly respected jurists in party hats and the table had been festooned with confetti. There were brightly colored balloons and a modest pile of gifts. The smell of fresh coffee filled the room as the twenty or so of us milled generally. In the middle of the table stood the cake plate, still covered.

Once it was decided that everyone had been assembled. A toast was made to Ilene. "There isn't a day that passes where we don't benefit from having known Ilene," one of the judges said. "Her winning smile, her bright sense of humor, her unwavering dedication to her co-workers make all of us the better for having had the very unique opportunity to have worked at her side. I speak for all of us assembled here when I raise my cup to Ilene on her birthday and wish her a year filled with happiness, health, and success. To Ilene!"

We raised our cups dutifully and repeated "to Ilene!" Then drank heartily of our ginger ale.

Ilene blushed a little and thanked us all. "Let's have cake!" she enthused. A cheer went up and Ellen approached the table. She put her hand on the handle of the cover. She paused briefly to ensure everyone was watching and with great flourish she removed the lid to reveal the cake she made.

An audible gasp came from the group of party goers. We stood transfixed while we took it all in. I felt my jaw drop a little and I think I put my hand over my mouth. I heard a hushed "oh my God" from somewhere to my left.

On the plate was a cake shaped like an enormous cock. It was completely three dimensional and looked like it might rock back and forth if the table were jostled.

Ellen was basking in the silence. She took the opportunity to point out a few of the highlights. "The icing is a standard white icing which I mixed with cherry juice to give it this distinctive flesh-like color," she began. "If you look closely, just under the pink icing, I piped in lines of blueberry puree which I strained so I could get a really smooth consistency. That's the veins.

"Here on the head of the penis I've used generous quantities of red jimmies. I wasn't exactly sure how to communicate that this dick was engorged, but then I thought of an impressionist painting and I think this really works. If you're really close, like Judge Patterson here, then it looks like this cock is just sugar encrusted. But if you stand back from it a bit," she stepped back to admire her work, "the red blends with the icing to give the head a darker hue than the rest of the cock."

I took two steps back and cocked my head to the side. "She's right," I said.

"See!" Ellen beamed. "See how that works! Now, I've encrusted the balls in toasted coconut flakes. I bought a fresh coconut and grated it myself so I could get shavings that were long enough to really give the impression of hair. I know some of you are allergic to coconut, so everyone needs to make sure that those with allergies get a piece of the shaft.

"But the best part," she continued, "is the inside. I hollowed it out and filled it with creme anglais, which should be nice and drippy now that the cake has reached room temperature!"

During the course of her presentation, Ellen had taken a single white candle and stuffed it in the cock cake's urethra. She lit the candle and waited for a little wax to melt. As the candle was parallel with the plane of the floor, white wax dripped unceremoniously onto the plate an inch or two from the tip of the cock cake.

Ellen turned to Ilene and maneuvered her to the head of the cock cake. "Put your face down there and blow your cake, Ilene!"

Ilene looked around nervously, but then took a deep breath and blew the candle out, which had the ancillary and wholly unexpected effect of sending an additional splatter of hot wax across the plate. This caused Ellen to clap. "OOOH!" she said. "Look at all that hot juice!"

Ellen removed the candle leaving a hole in the tip, further enhancing the effect. "Well," she said. "Dig in. Have some cake."

We all sort of stood around a little dumbfounded. "What are you waiting for?" she asked. "Have some! Ilene, it's time to cut your cake."

Ellen put a cake knife in Ilene's hands and pushed her up to the table. We all watched as Ilene tried to decide exactly where to cut the cake. The kinfe hovered over the tip of the cock, and then moved down toward the base. She seemed to consider that for a moment, and then blushed as she withdrew the knife and turned her head.

"It's just a cake," Ellen said. "Go on, now. You're the birthday girl, you get to cut the cake."

Ilene turned back to the cake and allowed the knife to hover over the balls before she finally decided the first cut should be right between the testicles. She looked uncertain as she allowed the knife to pass through the cake. I heard a groan from a male originate from somewhere behind me. She twisted the cake knife a little to separate the two sides and creme anglais dribbled slowly out of the incision. Ilene dropped the knife and pulled away like she'd been bitten.

"Ok," Ellen said. "Who wants the first piece?" She held the knife at the ready. "George, you want a piece? Cake, Mary?" And then her eyes settled on me, the only gay male in the office. "Come on, Brian," she said. "You know you want some. You know you do. What'll it be, cock or balls?"

I blushed a little but said, "balls. I guess balls. No, wait. Cock. I don't want any coconut."

Ellen gleefully severed the cock from the balls and cut me a piece from the middle of the cake. "Cock it is, then," she said. "But not the head. The head is for Ilene because it's her birthday."

All eyes were on me as my plate with a slice of cock cake arrived in my hands. I don't remember picking it up, but I do remember that everyone wanted to see me eat it. I took a tentative nibble and nodded my head as if to say "so delicious!" And truth be told, it was very good. Rich and moist and everything a birthday cake should be. Still, I couldn't help but feel so very dirty while I ate it. I retreated to my desk with my largely uneaten slice of cake. "Thank you" I muttered as I left the conference room.

I'm not sure who else had cake.

Posted at 11:21 a.m.

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