Messy Fun In the College Kitchen

— by Anonymous —

The truth is, I should have never listened to Kathy when she suggested we crash the boy’s stag party. Especially when it was held right in the big culinary kitchen area of the college, for the fraternity. But crash we did, lovely brunette Kathy leading and me following along as usual. I was dressed in a long flowing white dress to accent my long blonde hair, white pumps, the whole nine yards. Kathy looked good in a blue jump suit.

As soon as I saw the guys, I knew we should have never come. They were all pretty drunk and some of the bigger ones started making comments and the like. It got uglier and some of the guys were grinning and really kind of moving in on us.

Kathy turned to me and whispered “Let’s get out of here!”

Too late! One of the big galoots grabbed my arm, and it hurt! I shouted to Kate, “Run!” and breaking free, I sprinted to the door with her!

And with a shout, they were after us, chasing us through the huge food processing part of the college!

Slipping on tiled floor, I wanted to shed those shoes but there was no time. I had never been in this part of the college, and I was completely lost. But I followed Kathy, hoping she would lead us into some labyrinth of rooms we could lose our pursuers in. Instead, we blundered into a large room filled with kettles, each easily large enough to hide two people. I remember thinking hurriedly that they must mass produce the soups or something in here…Kathy grabbed my arm and pulled me toward one of the chromed kettles.

“In here!” she hissed and obediently I tugged the heavy lid back far enough to slip inside the huge pot.

But we were in for a surprise! Inside the kettle was some kind of marshmallow substance, thick and gooey. In desperation she climbed in after me and quietly we sank into almost four feet of the thick, sticky goop. My dress floated on the surface and I could feel the warm goo flowing sluggishly into my shoes, between my toes and between my legs. My new shoes, I thought! But there was no help for it, and we squatted quietly in the mush, waiting for the chase to catch up to us.

All was quiet for some time. Kathy and I had slid close to each other, warm and sticky. Irritated, I slowly pushed my dress under the surface of the mess, covering my hands and forearms with a thick layer of the sticky frosting. Kathy laughed at me quietly.

When ten minutes or so had gone by, cautiously we raised the lid of the kettle. No one in sight. But what a sight we were! In the reflection of the kettle I saw a creme-covered woman in a gooey white dress, liberally smeared with sweet sugary frosting from head to open-toed shoes. My dress clung moistly to me at odd angles. Kathy was scooping some of the glop from her chest and arms, and it fell with a soft plop onto the tiled floor, lightly splattering my shoes.

“Well,” I whispered, “I’m getting rid of these shoes”. I tugged each one off and stood in my ruined dress, gooey bare feet on the cool tile floor. How had this happened? I could feel the warm ooze still slipping down my chest. Kate tugged off her shoes, and wiggled her toes.

“I like it,” she said simply. I shook my head in wonder and was about to reply when suddenly-

Shouts in the hallway! They were coming back!

Kate looked panicky. We look around again, grabbed our shoes and then looked at each other in messy resignation. We couldn’t get back in the same kettle; too obvious. So we picked one at the far end of the kitchen, pulled back the lid and hoped for the best.

This one was some kind of mushy cereal, soft and slippery. Oatmeal, I realized, thick and very lumpy. Probably for tomorrow’s breakfast; what an odd sensation to be bathing in it! My feet oozed through the thick cereal and I pulled Kate in after me. At least it’s warm, I thought. Kathy sploshed down beside me, sliding next to me because of the curvature of the kettle’s bottom. The shouts grew further away. We waited cautiously.

“I can’t stand being in this dress,” she whispered, wiggling a bit in the oatmeal.

“What are you going to, a strip-tease?” I muttered sarcastically while the soft, slippery oatmeal began oozing quietly into my soaked panties. It was invasive and unpleasant.

“Yes,” she said to my surprise and slowly unzipped her jumpsuit. The thick oatmeal flowed greedily into her dress, and I could just imagine it splashing moistly around her panties, if indeed she was wearing any… I could see her cereal-soaked bra slip off in the dim light of the kettle, and I watched her breasts bob and quietly splash in the warm creamy goo. She reached below the surface and seemed to be adjusting something.. and I remember the feeling of disbelief I had when finally she smiled with satisfaction and brought her dripping panties to the top of our sloppy pool, dangling them in front of my face.

“There,” she said with sensuous satisfaction. Almost smug. “I’m completely naked. Naked in the warm, oozy oatmeal.” And then as though to prove her point, she smiled mysteriously and slipped completely under the thick gooey surface, only to rise again in a second or two, saturated with the thick lumpy mixture. Laughingly, she massaged the mush into her breasts.

“Lighten up, kiddo. It feels good. I’m leaving my clothes in the vat – let some frat-brat have my panties for breakfast!”

Then she looked at me again, laughed at my gooey blonde hair and frown. “Might as well strip,” she said. “Feels great and you look silly in that dress.” I must have looked pretty upset because she wiped my face with her panties in a protectively helpful way and I closed my eyes.

What logic compelled me to agree with her? But agree I did, and I slipped out of the sodden dress, mashing it revengefully to the bottom of the kettle with my feet. It felt good to be naked in the warm thickness. But the probing feeling of invasion from that thick lumpy slop was a bit disconcerting.

Sitting next to her was, I think, what finally did it, but when she put the panties down and held me in that soft warm soup, I relaxed a little. It was such an absurd situation. I turn to her to say something and because of the proximity our lips bumped.

And that’s when it happened.

“Sorry,” I whispered and in answer she kissed me lightly, sweetly, then licked the oat meal from my lips sympathetically. I saw in her eyes the humor of the situation. I looked at her for a second and then gently kissed her back, licking her cheeks and mouth curiously. I felt her hand stroke my breast and then my sex, and then suddenly I lost myself in it all. I licked at her fingers timidly, then gratefully, and we kissed and explored each other in the warm soft slop. It was comforting to be so messy together. I suppose if our bodies weren’t half submerged we would have had to do more to each other, but as it was were we satisfied to cuddle naked and kiss and kiss. I was happy with her, happy with her mouth and lips and tongue on my face, happy to be in the mush with her..

It went on and on.

It was excellent.

“Let’s go” she finally said after about an hour. I was reluctant to leave our sexy bath, but I followed her, gooey and happy. I forgot about the boys. We walked naked, covered in oatmeal, except where we had licked our face thoroughly clean, looking for an exit, leaving oatmealy footprints and hoping to reach our car undiscovered.

It had rained we discovered and in the total darkness we walked through the soft mud of the campus football field towards the car. I felt so liberated I wouldn’t have cared had we been discovered. Some times we had to stop and kiss in the mud, and then we would be okay for a while to walk until we needed to stop again, which was often.

And by the time we reached the car?

I was glad I we crashed that party after all.