Caked

I be done in. I haven't lost an ounce all week and it's the fault of all those swanky skeleton whores in the community room of my apartment complex.

Minding my own business riding my rascal along the cement walkways when this delightfully beguiling smell assaulted my nostrils. It was coming from the community room. Esther, Ethel and Marge were playing Canasta and had a coffee cake sitting on the side board. Those hateful skinny whores had only taken a few slices out of it, that seductive temptress was calling my name, white icing oozing like milky white ropes of cum while the cinnamon innards begged me to lasciviously tongue it. 

Before I knew what had happened I had rolled over Esther's foot, knocked over the card table and grabbed that cake, all dozen slices or so and make my gooey escape. Too bad about Marge, she hit the floor, something about a heart attack I heard later. Ethel told the police I barged in and stold their cake and beat up on all of them but couldn't prove a thing.

Tried to get the nice young officer to stay and pet my pussies but he said he was too busy. He left after warning me to stay away from other peoples food and feet. Everyone at the apartment complex is treating me like I'm a criminal.