I'm not exactly why my cake was particularly slutty. It didn't even taste particularly good, but I suppose it did look like a hot mess covered with cum AND THAT'S NOT WHAT IT ACTUALLY WAS HONEST
I knew from the moment I started baking that it wouldn't be a normal cake. I knew this because there weren't any eggs, so I chose to substitute them with milk. But, you know, I thought that would be okay, because I'm a maverick like that. I did grease the cake tin, and I thought that was enough, but clearly it wasn't. I also made half the mixture, because there are only two of us, and that will be enough cake for two. I thought this too. All of these I thought.
I even added shavings of chocolate - that is to say, chocolate through a cheese grater - because I wanted to add chocolate drops and didn't have any. I believed myself to be genuinely resourceful.
Also, I didn't want to bother walking to the shops to buy the ingredients I actually needed. It's cake and cunnilingus day, not walk and shell out money day.
So into the oven went the cake tin and I set about making the buttercream icing. For this I actually did have the correct ingredients, so when it ended up incredibly watery, white but translucent and resembling a bowl of semen (there is no other description, that is what it looked exactly like) I was slightly concerned, but managed to console myself by fooling whoever wasn't listening (there was nobody else in the kitchen) that it would get thicker over time, because apparently that happens.
Then the cake was ready. So ready, in fact, that it refused to come out of the very tin that I'd so carefully greased beforehand. I tried cutting it out with a knife, getting under it with a fishslice, asking it really nicely, and telling it I'd let it lick my stamp collection... but it still wasn't budging. Eventually I tried whacking it really hard from the other side of the cake tin and, in one glorious rectangular action, a glorious rectangle of cake fell directly out of the tin.
Except it wasn't really cake... it was more like biscuit. And it was only half the mixture; the rest had remained in the tin, like a limpet. But I was halfway there.
That's okay, I thought. I can cover this half with buttercream icing, get the other half out somehow, and put it on top, so it's sort of a cakey biscuity icingy sandwich. That'll be easy. I can save the day after all. So onto the top of the cake went the translucent white buttercream icing.
I then proceeded to attempt to extricate the second half from the cake tin incredibly carefully. It obliged by disintegrating into little pieces, so I ended up crazy paving the top half over the bottom half, trusting that my icing would hold it in place. It kind of did, and when it didn't look so bad after all, I decided to spread the remaining icing over the top of the cake. The result was something that looked like I'd ejaculated over it. I wasn't sure what to do, but after a few minutes I decided that breaking down and crying wasn't going to be a useful way to spend my time. I made a small coffee, sliced off a slab of cake and took both through to my bedroom.
"So, uhm, this cake I made..." I ventured. My girlfriend, who was in bed, assured me she'd try it. I carefully placed both coffee and cake on the side, and then went to my grandparents' house as an excuse for something to do so as to not witness her eating it and whatever her reaction might be.
A few hours later and we've eaten all the cake (hence the lack of picture). The general consensus that it was so sweet, soaked with icing that neither looked nor tasted like icing, and full of milk and chocolate but nothing of any particular consistency, that it was totally irresistible. As my girlfriend put it, it was a very slutty cake. I'm not sure what that means, but I'll take it as a good thing.
There's been no cunnilingus... yet. But I hope that, when it does happen, it's just as messy.