/ck/ - Food & Cooking

Hey /ck/ I have a quick question that I am trying to answer:

Is it better to weigh by weight or by volume when cooking? I figure weighing by weight for backing but what about cooking?

She stared in absolute bewilderment and dismay. She angrily tore the Milk Duds box in half, her jowels swaying with her shaking anger.

How, HOW could someone have taken her Milk Duds? Who was it? What kind of sicko would do such a thing?

At that moment, I was in the bathroom chuckling to myself. Mint-flavored floss threaded on a large needle in one hand, a brown chocolately knoll in the other. I worked deftly, my member growing rigid as I threaded the Milk Duds on the floss.

She was in tears when I entered the room, and looked hysterical when she saw what I had done to her pre-dessert snack.

As I jammed my homemade edible anal beads up her enormous keister, she moaned with plesure in between her yells at taking her Milk Duds. I assured her she could still have them and, after pushing a box of them up her ass, gave a firm tug.

She howled with delight as each Dud came popping out of her absurdly large ass. She could hardly eat them faster than I could pull them out, and after a dozen she remarked that they seemed more chocolately from her brown box than they normally do.

She forgave me, but only after I filled her gullet with a few vanilla custard loads from my engorged pastry bag.

For the first time, she skipped dessert. A small step on the road to healthy eating.

She stared in absolute bewilderment and dismay. She angrily tore the Milk Duds box in half, her jowels swaying with her shaking anger.

How, *HOW* could someone have taken her Milk Duds? Who was it? What kind of sicko would dare do such a thing?

At that moment, I was in the bathroom chuckling to myself. Mint-flavored floss threaded on a large needle in one hand, a brown chocolately knoll in the other. I worked deftly, my member growing rigid as I threaded the Milk Duds on the floss. Both my anticipation and my veiny kielbasa grew with each passing second.

She was in tears when I entered the room, and looked hysterical when she saw what I had done to her pre-dessert snack. She would be choking back more than sobs when I was through with her.

As I jammed my homemade edible anal beads one-by-one up her enormous keister, she moaned with plesure in between her angry yells, still mad at taking her Milk Duds. I assured her she could still have them and, after pushing a box of them up her ass, gave a succession of firm tugs.

She howled with delight as each Dud came popping out of her absurdly large ass. She could hardly eat them faster than I could pull them out and after a dozen she remarked that they seemed more chocolately from her brown box than they normally do.

She forgave me, but only after I filled her gullet with a few vanilla custard loads from my engorged pastry bag.

For the first time, she skipped dessert. A small step on the road to healthy eating.