Two men writhed happily on the kitchen counter, their birthday cake-turned-sexcapade afternoon messily spread before them. Andrew sank to his knees, eagerly taking in Xander’s jutting cock. Andrew’s own stiff member bobbed proudly. Their clothes, flour-caked and sticky with batter, lay in a heap on the floor. Lost in pleasure, neither heard their visitor until he was nearly at the door.

"He’s home early! What should we do?" Andrew squealed. They eyed the pile of unwearable crusty clothes. They grabbed the next best thing as Giles entered.

"Good lord, gentlemen! I don’t think oven mitts are supposed to go *there*!"