She looked at me from across the room with a knowing smile and walked confidently over to me. “Do you find the way I look attractive”, she asked looking directly into my eyes. I managed a weak nod of my head … but no words. “Let me help”, she offered. “Could it be perhaps my luxury fluffy purple mohair jumper that’s setting your pulse racing? Maybe my long straight shiny blonde hair that stretches down to my slim waist? Of course it could be the soft angora leggings I’m wearing … I know its all of those things. But the real thing that’s going to get YOU going is that pretty Belinda is yearning to be smeared in thick cream pies.” She whispered this secret desire into my right ear. As she placed a suggestive arm around my shoulder, I could feel the sensual mohair of her sleeve against my neck.

“I have a room upstairs” I offered, having only checked into the hotel an hour previously. I hadn’t counted on running into this vision of a woman when I dropped down to the bar for quick beer. I continued … “we could continue our conversation in more relaxed surroundings … although I’m not sure how we could satisfy your desire for ‘dessert’!”. “That’s something my friend can help us with”; her friend Becky walked over towards us, sporting a huge grin … she was ready for fun. “Lets go. Becky will bring our cases up to your room.”

Belinda followed me closely up to the room and as soon as we were inside she threw down a large black canvas overnight bag. “I’ve got some goodies in there if you’re a good boy – but first, lets get acquainted.” She led me to the edge of the bed and began to undress me. As she did, she made sure to brush my skin with her beautiful mohair clad body – it felt divine. She looked stunning. Her breasts were large and fluffy … when I was fully naked, she asked me to sit on the edge of the bed … and then she sat astride me, pushing her full fluffy breasts into my face. I rubbed my hands over her firm buttocks – the sensation of the softest angora ripped through my body. Eventually, she lifted my head, and brushed her long blonde hair against my face before kissing me deeply with her shockingly pink lips. “I afraid this is going to be the most pleasurable night of your life”, she mocked … I knew already that this would be true, but I had know idea of the extent of the pleasure she had in store for me.

Becky arrived, and Belinda let her into the room. She had two very large cases with her. Out of one, Becky tool a large pink fur blanket and spread it across my bed. “Lie back on that”, she said, “it’ll keep your back warm”. I needed no weak excuse – and lay down onto the fur, almost coming with the sensation on my skin.

Belinda continued, “Now, you look a little excited. So before we begin, why don’t I help relieve a little of that?”. Why not indeed!

Belinda opened her canvas bag and showed me a pair of fur mittens and a fur bonnet – matching her sweater perfectly. “These are for me” she announced as she put the mittens on her hands. Immediately she placed my cock between her mittened hands and began to rub me gently. She moved her head closer and blew softly over my erection. “In a moment, I’m going to put you into my mouth and suck ’till you come. But this time, you’re not to watch … not yet.” She took the fur bonnet and reversed it …. soft fur on the inside. She knew instinctively that I’d love to have it tightly over my face as she sucked me off …. I could only last a couple of minutes before exploding into her luscious mouth.

Belinda removed the fur bonnet from my face and told me that I’d need to look closely at the special preparation that Becky was making for us ……

On the other side of the room, on the large table were twenty or so huge cream pies. Becky had been making them whilst I had been losing my mind with Belinda. Also out of one of the cases came three enormous containers full of custard. Becky began, “This looks very exciting Belinda, I’ve plenty of your favorite treats in store”, and Belinda smiled broadly. “But first, we’d better secure him.”

With that, they took two soft angora scarves each and secures my arms and legs to the corners of the bed. Belinda moved into position, straddling me on the bed. She sat upright, her mane of long hair brushed over to one side covering the right side of her face and down the right side of her body – it glistened …. and she smiled with expectation. Belinda spoke. “Now wouldn’t it be a terrible shame to spoil all this beautiful mohair that I’m wearing?”. She rubbed her fur mittens across her breasts and breathed deeply. “But I’m no longer in control now – Becky is the Pie Mistress … and she’ll do whatever she likes”.

Becky moved towards us with two very large cream pies in her hands. Slowly, she pushed the first pie into Belinda’s face who squealed with excitement. She gently rotated the pie, ensuring that the thick cream had been pushed into every contour of Belinda’s lovely face. The second pie landed on Belinda’s furry chest and was massaged over her large breasts. This was pure delight to watch … all the time, Belinda squirmed with ecstasy above me …. gently rubbing her angora covered crotch over my pulsing hard-on. If only I’d had a camera at that very point, Belinda’s face was 100% pied and the front of her soft jumper was well pied too, whilst her long blonde hair still cascaded down to her waist untouched ….. not for long though.

“Do you want some more Belinda?”, asked Becky. “Oh yes, oh much more – we’ve only just begun!”, cried Belinda through the mass of cream on her face. Pies started to fly at Belinda’s hair until eventually she was completely smeared with the luxurious cream pie. Belinda stroked her hair with her fluffy mittens until they too were laden with the pie mixture … “That’s better …. much better. But I hope that dessert is going to be served with some custard, Becky?”.

Of course it was – and plenty of it too. Becky lifted the first of the containers full of custard above Belinda’s head and started to pour it slowly. The thick yellow custard rolled down Belinda’s face and hair, over her breasts and down onto my stomach. Belinda’s hands reached down and began to guide the pool of custard on my stomach down to the stiffness of my prick. The custard felt cool against the heat of my cock … soon I would explode again.

“Oh, how greedy of me”, Belinda observed after the second container of custard had streamed down her body … and eventually reaching my prick. “I didn’t offer you any cream pie.” Becky hadn’t forgotten …. “I’ve saved some especially for him. And since he really enjoyed having his head in your fur bonnet – he can put it over his face and head once again …. this time filled to the brim with cream pie mixture.”

She wasn’t joking. Becky offered the bonnet to Belinda to push over my begging face. Belinda remarked on just how lucky … and I knew it too! At that moment she tugged down her custard covered angora leggings and guided my penis inside – I smiled at her. She moved up and down on my shaft for a few moments whilst teasing me with the huge cream pie in front of my face.

Finally she slowly pushed the mega-pie into my face, at and that instant I exploded for a second time; this time deep inside her. What a feeling – I’d been tied up and dominated like this for seemingly hours – surely it would have to end soon?

After a short while, Belinda took the bonnet off my head revealing my pied face. “I’m sure you know that you’re still hard … and I’m going to have to do something about that, aren’t I?”. She changed position on top of me so that she was on all fours – her face above my cock, and her pussy over my face. “How about a couple more pies, Becky?” pleaded Belinda, and Becky obliged – the first was smeared into Belinda’s face again providing a thick fresh coating of pie – the second was smeared over her pussy and buttocks, just inches away from my face.

“Let’s do it then!”, Belinda exclaimed as she opened her mouth and brought her lips down to the base of my penis, cupping my balls in her well pied mittens. As she became more aroused, I sensed the inevitable ….. her cream pie pussy was moving towards me … I had seconds before my face was covered in creamy heaven again. At that instant Becky added a little extra to our play ….

I felt loads of thick gloop running over the head of my prick, and then Belinda resume her oral treat. And then I knew what it must have been, as I saw piles of chocolate sauce appear over Belinda’s firm buttocks and roll down onto my face from between her legs.

Eventually, as I had yearned for it, Belinda’s cream laden pussy was being rubbed firmly into my face and I could return some of the pleasure that she had spoiled me with. Her orgasm was wild and violent, putting the finishing touch to the sundae on my face. Then for a third and final time I climaxed …. inside the mouth of the exquisite pie maiden.

I remember feeling as excited as I’ve ever felt, being caressed by the soft mohair clad Belinda, her fur mittens and angora covered legs …….. but that was before the ecstasy of the luxurious cream pies!!! If this is the dream of other sensual women out there ….. I’ll be your ‘victim’.

Mark March 1996

Pergola of Gunge, by SpinyNorman (SpinyNorman_and_Frilly@compuserve.com)

Gill looked up at the bamboo framework above her with its array of paper bags hanging above her. She shivered with excitement as the bags swayed gently in the warm breeze. She was lying on her back in a small inflatable pool. Her body clad only in a red shiny bikini which glistening after pouring several bottles of corn oil over her skin, her hair fanned out in a pool of shiny, slimy liquid.

She wriggled in the oil feeling it flow under her head, shoulders and buttocks. She had come up with this idea while she was at work and it had become difficult to think of anything else since then.

The mechanics were simple, a small framework of bamboo canes out of the garden lashed together, with paper bags full of jam, custard, rice pudding and other assorted gunges suspended from them. This was then placed over the pool to form a lattice work tunnel. Then a quick scramble underneath the bags and into the pool before the bags began to split.

Gill lay there looking up at the bags as they swayed gently in the warm breeze. Beads of sweat built up on her forehead as her anticipation rose. The oil had begun to seep into her bikini bottoms and a golden slime was beginning to creep up the red material in between her legs. She reached down with her hand and massaged the slickness into her mound with gentle circular movements. She sighed softly, and slipped a greasy had underneath the cup of her bikini top, stroking her nipple.

SPLAT! Suddenly one of the bags broke and a large dollop of custard landed onto her stomach, smothering her navel and splashing over the lower part of her breasts. She jerked wildly at first with the shock, then both of her hands were rubbing the custard over her stomach and up over her bikini covered breasts.

Gill glanced up just in time to see another bag begin to split allowing small amounts of strawberry jam to escape.. The bag was hanging directly above her chin but she wriggled up just in time to allow the contents to hit her directly on her breasts with a satisfying thud. Her custard covered hand came up to her chest and spread the jam over her bikini top. She smoothed the jam over the material feeling the dampness penetrate through to her skin. Gill lifted up the left cup and scooped jam underneath the material massaging it into her breast. Her hands explored the sensation of the sticky mess both inside and outside of her bikini. She scrapped the jam up towards her face and lifting her chin she spread the jam over neck and cheeks.

She had just inserted four sticky fingers into her mouth tasting he sweetness when another load of gunge exploded onto her thighs. With her chin grinding the jam into her upper chest, her hand went down to her thighs to find out what the latest offering was. She lifted her legs slightly still keeping the soles of her feet flat down in the corn oil. She began to rub her thighs and soon realised that they were now coated in porridge. She spread the mixture to the inside of her thighs and up towards her crotch. As she drew the mixture closer she pulled the gusset of her bikini bottoms to one side and rubbed the porridge into her exposed pussy.

Gill began to heave and writhe as she gathered up more of the mess and forced it into the crotch of her bikini. She then let it snap back into place and worked at her mound with both hands. Her hands became more and more frantic. She reached up and gathered a handful of jam from out of the top of her bikini and thrust it down the front of her pants. She ran her fingers up and down the crease of her vulva occasionally slipping two fingers into her soaking wet pussy.

Gill arched her back a little as the pleasure mounted and then she settled back into the pool with a slight squelch. She opened her eyes and watched mesmerised as a bag full of thick dark treacle slowly gave way and a huge tear shaped mass of treacle landed right in the middle of her bikini bottoms. She placed a finger in the sticky pile, stirring up the treacle. She parted the two halves of her top exposing her jam covered breasts and scooped two generous helping of syrup onto each of her nipples. Suddenly the wind gusted a little and she noticed that another bag was at breaking point and about to empty its contents over her left breast. Gill managed just in time to get her face under the bag and was rewarded with a face full of thick whipping cream.

She licked her lips as she rubbed the cream into her face and hair. She was laughing now and writhing about in the pool, her hand massaging quickly all over her body.

Gill reached down and began to work her panties down her thighs as another bag burst, a generous portion of ketchup landing on her upraised knees and cascading over her face and breasts. She finally got her bikini bottoms down and spread her legs wide. “Here it is” she called to one of the bags above her. She opened her legs as far as they would go, rubbing her clit as her legs bounced up and down slightly as she tried to force her legs as far apart as possible. “Hit my pussy now” she shouted as a bag split and rice pudding splattered straight onto her wide open crotch. “Oh yesss” she cried, and then as she settled back to work the pudding into her mound she whispered “nice shot”.

Gills fingers left her clit for a while and she worked a finger inside her pussy. With her other hand she massaged the multi coloured goo into her face and breasts. She was breathing faster and more deeply now, and a second and third finger took up the rhythm inside her.

She removed her fingers and bought her knees up towards her breasts, she tried to reach past her pussy, but while she could manage to stroke her butt, she couldn’t penetrate herself.

Pulling the last part of her bikini off she rolled over and raised herself up on to her hands and knees. She looked down into the goo at the bottom of the pool, and licking her lips she plunged her face into it. She slopped her face from side to side, her hair spraying the mess everywhere. She burrowed down into it making the most wild snorting noises as she laughed and giggled.

Suddenly another bag burst and something very thick and gooey landed squarely on to her butt. She groaned as she reached behind and worked one finger into her small tight hole. She continued to work the finger around inside her as wallowed her face in the goo.

Gill reached between her legs, her face to one side , as she once again found her pussy with her fingers, both of her entrances now being worked frantically. Her legs almost gave way so she flipped over on to her back with a splash. She still worked away at her pussy, whilst her other hand roved over her body. Another bag burst and then another. Treacle and more custard exploded on to her body as she bucked and jerked with each impact. Gills back arched as her fingers once again concentrated on her clit. She began to stroke her nipples softly before the whole thing subsided and she settled back with a sigh.

She looked up. All of the bags had burst. She stroked her body gently and closed her eyes. Clouds had begun to gather and as she lay there it started to rain. “What a perfect climax” she mused to her self.

I’ve seen all the new story postings here etc etc etc.

Peanut Butter Betty by MessyBoy

***

Betty stared at her friend Cindy with disbelief. “What?” she asked. “I said,” Cindy repeated, “that I read that you can use peanut butter to improve your complexion.” She pointed at the piece of paper in her hand, which appeared to be a computer printout, but which Betty could not read from across the room.

“Peanut…butter?” Betty said incredulously. To her, peanut butter had always been merely something to toss between two pieces of bread. Certainly, she liked peanut butter. When the school menu for the next day appeared to be less-than-appetizing, she usually went with a peanut butter sandwich as a backup choice. But as a skin treatment?

“That’s what it says,” said Cindy. “Since you’re going to try out for the cheerleading squad this year, I figure you should try whatever might work.”

Betty nodded. It was a little strange, but cheerleading tryouts *were* going to take place at the beginning of the school year, and she *did* want to look her best. Not that her skin really needed anything, or any other part of her for that matter. Her golden curls were just long enough to turn heads, while not so long that they would get in the way during complicated routines. Her legs were smooth and firm, the work of many an hour spent running and cycling, two of her favorite hobbies. And of course her breasts were the envy of half the school—just the right size, they fit comfortably into her bra—while some of the girls in her grade still didn’t even need bras. But back to her skin—it was tanned slightly, just enough to create that warm, sunny tone. And not a single mark—no dimples, no moles, and of course no pimples—marked its smooth, silky surface. But still…she had heard that the tryouts were awfully difficult….”All right,” said Betty, “I’ll give it a try, when I get home.”

“Okay,” replied Cindy, secretly pleased, “and you can let me know how it goes?” Betty nodded. Cindy was no beauty, but they were good friends and they always shared beauty tips.

The conversation turned to other matters, and while it wasn’t in her mind constantly, Betty had not forgotten the peanut butter. When she finally got home that night, she headed for the pantry to check on the peanut-butter supply, holding Cindy’s computer printout in her hand. Betty lived alone a lot of the time—she was an only daughter and both her parents worked full time, and often went out to long dinner parties on some nights. This was one of those nights, so Betty could be guaranteed privacy to experiment. She read the printout, which had some technical gobbeldygook about skin textures, which she ignored. It went on to state that the best brand to work with would be Jif, and of course to use creamy, not chunky.

The printout also said that it could be done either clothed or naked. Betty pondered that. Of course it would probably be best to try it naked, but somehow the idea of being covered in peanut butter with her clothes on attracted her. She shrugged and decided to give it a go. She had, after all, many old outfits which she would never dream of wearing again. She walked out of the kitchen and into her room. Pulling off her shirt, she undid her bra—which was still usable—letting her ample chest out into the air of her room. She pulled off her jeans and panties, exposing her entire smooth body to the house. Walking up to the mirror, she examined herself, either found or imagined a few faults in her skin, and walked back to the dresser. For her experiment she chose a rather old but still wearable pair of pink panties, a pair of jeans which was a little bit too small for her and had a small stain on it from when they painted the garage, and a faded tie-dye t-shirt which had just gone out of style. At last she was ready.

Walking back to the kitchen, she pulled open the pantry and somehow managed to find three whole unopened jars of Jif peanut butter. She grabbed two and walked to the bathroom. She shut the door, for no real reason—as stated above, there was no one home—and sat down in the large bathtub which was all her own. In fact, most of the upstairs floor, except a storage room, was all her own—her parents made a good bit of money. She sat up against the back of the tub and opened the first jar, setting the other one down on the floor of the tub.

She smelled the slight aroma of the peanut butter and felt a twinge of what felt like arousal. She shrugged it off as nervousness and prepared to get messy. As she brought her right hand to the top of the jar, her mind flashed back to a childhood desire to push her hand down into a jar of peanut butter, and decided that this was the time to indulge it. She reached down into the thick, gooey stuff, and felt a rush of pleasure. She moved her hand around under the surface, felt the peanut butter becoming less resistant and allowing her hand to slide around in its wonderful embrace. After a minute she pulled out her hand and saw it covered completely with the peanut butter. With a slight effort she pulled her fingers apart and saw that the coating extended even across the area where her fingers had been together. Deciding to get on with it, she set the jar down, reached over, and began to rub the peanut butter up her left arm. Unconsciously following the printout’s instructions, she began smoothing it out, making a thin, obscuring coat over every bit of her arm. As she completed this she found herself aware of a warm wetness at her crotch and began to wonder just what effect the peanut butter was having on her. She decided she would find out soon enough, and again reached into the jar. This time she just grabbed a big glob of the stuff, and held it over her right leg. In a few seconds, the glob fell out of her hand and impacted into her knee with a wonderful “plop,” leaving a good bit still attached to her hand. She began rubbing it all up and down her leg, getting more from the jar when necessary, until her legs, like her arm, were completely coated. She brought her legs together and slid them against each other, not without effort. The slow sliding, almost slimy sensation, made her feel very, very good. Now unable—or unwilling—to deny the effects of the peanut butter on her sexual chemistry, she decided to go a little further. The feeling of the “filth” on her jeans was pleasureful, yes, but she wanted more on her bare skin. Seeing that the first jar was almost empty, she tossed it aside and picked up the second one, then opened it. Setting it down, she used her messy hands to pull off her jeans. Getting them unbuttoned with her sticky hands was no easy task, but she managed, in the process getting little streaks of the peanut butter all over her t-shirt and waistline. She then stopped.

She had gotten the jeans messy before taking them off—why not the t-shirt and panties as well? She noticed as she thought this that her panties were indeed quite damp and her crotch quite warm. Feeling very, very naughty, she reached into the second jar, again enjoying its sensual pleasures, and pulled out an enormous glob of the stuff. Placing her hand on her breast, she smeared off most of the peanut butter, and then sent both hands to work massaging her mammaries through the fabric, in the process ruining her once-almost-beautiful shirt, and also making herself very hot. Finally she gave up on the shirt and pulled it off, leaving only her pink panties.

Deciding to take a different angle with the panties, she gathered up some of the peanut butter sitting on the floor of the tub, as well as some from the jar, and placed a big glob on the floor. Raising herself up, she then sat down, right on the small pile of peanut butter. She felt it smoosh up around her and a wave of indescribable anticipation struck her. Practically ripping the panties off, she made another pile and sat down again, this time with nothing between her and the peanut pleasure pile. She moaned as she felt her firm, naked ass, sink into the peanut butter, and moaned even harder as she felt the peanut butter come up into her ass. Trembling, she reached over to the now-half-empty second jar and pulled out most of its contents, bringing them up to her beautiful, naked chest, and smeared the sticky, gooey goodness all over herself. Her nipples had been hard before—she had barely noticed—but now they were like rocks. She smeared long and hard, covering herself in that wonderful, sensual coating of peanut butter. Finally she orgasmed, shivering in intense pleasure. As she came out of her wave of delight, she realized that she had yet to do her face, crotch, and naked legs, and she was practically out of peanut butter. Standing up, not caring what sort of mess she might make, she stepped out of the tub, tracking peanut butter as she went. She opened the door, leaving peanut butter all over the door handle, and stepped out into the hall.

Now, while Betty had chosen to stock up from the downstairs kitchen, she had a small pantry of her own upstairs for curing the munchies during late-night study sessions. It was to this that she went, in the process leaving little blobs of peanut butter all over. She reached the pantry, pulled it open, and evaluated its contents, breathing rapidly. She saw one half-empty and one unopened jar of peanut butter, grabbed both, and set them on the floor. She wanted more. Completely oblivious to the mess she was making of the wooden and tiled floors, she made her way downstairs, and opened the pantry, only to find—Cindy, standing next to the pantry and scanning the printout which Betty had left there. Cindy looked up, gasped, and giggled. “How’s it working?” she asked with a blush.

Betty could only blush and moan, “It feels….so….goood…I need moooore…”

Cindy giggled again and took off her backpack. As she opened it, she explained, “I came over to see how you were doing and to get that makeup you were going to let me try. Since my dad works in a peanut butter factory we always have a bunch of it around the house, so I grabbed a few jars on my way out. I thought that I could try it with you, maybe.”

Betty gasped as Cindy pulled out of the backpack not one, not two, not three, but four beautiful cans of Jif peanut butter. Without a word, Betty grabbed them and raced upstairs, not seeing Cindy pull out several more jars and start slowly following her.

Back in the bathtub, Betty opened all six cans, four of them Cindy’s and two of them her own, and sighed in sheer happiness as she pulled out the contents of one jar after another, making an *enormous* pile on the floor of the tub in front of her. Spreading it out a little, she sat up, took a deep breath, and pushed herself downward, face-first, into the peanut butter.

That gave Cindy the opportunity to slip into the bathroom without being noticed and take up a silent observation post next to the bathtub, as Betty smeared herself around and around in the peanutty mess. She was always good at holding her breath for a long time and for a good minute she wallowed in the sticky mess, enveloping everything that wasn’t already enveloped—except her hair—in the wonderful, tasty, fantastic peanut butter. Finally she drew herself out. Her eyes still covered, she didn’t see Cindy slipping out of her clothes, revealing her attractive, if not outright sexy, figure. She did, however, feel Cindy reaching over to wipe the goo out of her eyes, and gasped at the sight of her friend’s nakedness. They had of course seen each other naked before but given the circumstances, it was a bit of a surprise. However, Betty was too close to another orgasm to be in any way fazed by this, and simply leaned back, leaving goo all over the back of the tub and giving Cindy room to step in and sit down in the pile which until then bore a vague impression of Betty’s body. As Cindy got in Betty saw that she was carrying six more jars of peanut butter, and moaned as Cindy opened two of them to go through her own pleasures. Cindy orgasmed there in the peanut butter, while coating her ass, and after the wave of pleasure subsided, she silently took the remaining four jars, opened them all, and dumped their contents in her now-brown lap. She slowly slid her way closer to the entranced Betty, and suddenly was lying in her arms. Betty expressed some surprise but as Cindy began massaging her clit with the wonderful peanut butter she forget everything, and simply grabbed more globs of the peanut butter to further goo-ify their gooey embrace. They slid around each other in the sticky mess, feeling a pleasure which neither had ever felt the like of before. As each mouth found its way to the other person’s body, they simply moaned in delight and indulged the wonderful pull of the sticky, sensual peanut butter. They orgasmed simultaneously, in a final burst of supreme pleasure, and then, feeling spent, they both collapsed away from each other and into the mess.

Ten minutes later, still lying there, Cindy admitted that she had constructed the whole situation to give her a chance to experiment with messy substances—she had written the printout herself and there was no real benefit from peanut butter on the skin, although she had made sure it would do no harm. Smiling, Betty said simply that she didn’t mind at all, and that if Cindy ever had any more experiments she wanted to try, she was available. After a moment, she added that she might have some experiments of her own…

The End

***

*MessyBoy*

“Out of the closet, and on to…” (F/F Mud)

By Messy Muddy Michael

The events, places, and persons portrayed within this piece are complete fiction. Any similarity is strictly by accident. This story is 100% public domain. Please feel to distribute this to all your friends and family, and post to any and all homepages that desire such subject matter. I only ask that you do not change any part of the story (except for spelling errors).

Joe has been married to Joyce for about 3 years. Joe has been WAM fan for many years, and Joyce has been very open minded about this, but had never really embraced the concept. Joyce never complained when Joe decided to purchase the latest WAM tape, and would even record news clips about wet and messy eventsfor him. Once in awhile, Joyce would watch these WAM tapes with Joe, and although she was never disgusted by them, she never really showed much sign of enjoying them either. Joe has always had a feeling that Joyce wants to try being messy, but denies it if she is asked. So Joe never pushes her.

A few weeks back, Joyce was at work talking to her friend Mandy. She mentioned that Joe had just received another video tape in the mail, and that they had watched it last night. Mandy noticed a little smile play around on Joyce’s face as she described some of the scenes from the tape.

“You enjoy watching those tapes don’t you?” inquired Mandy.

“Don’t be silly.” retorted Joyce.

“So you really find them digusting, right?”

Joyce hesitated, then said “They don’t disgust me.”

“Then you do like them”.

“Yeah, I guess I do, a little” Joyce was blushing.

“Admit it, you would like to be covered in mud, or some other messy material, right?” Mandy coaxed. “It would turn you on as much as it would Joe”

“Well I might like it, but …. I don’t know..”

“I think you should give it a try. Sounds like fun to me. Hey, I have to get back to work. Talk to you later.” Mandy leaves the break room, leaving Joyce to think.

Recently, Joyce was at work when she checked e-mail. She had a message titled, “Your lucky day”, from Mandy. The message was about a mud volleyball happening at the ball field near her home this afternoon. Mandy suggested she go have a look, just watch, and see what she thinks. Joyce’s heart started to beat a little faster. She knew taht she had to go. She thiught to herslef that she didn’t have get muddy, just see things up close, and decide if she would like to try it one day or not. It was decided, she would stop by after work, and see what happens.

Joyce arrived at the field as things were nearing an end. The four volleyball courts were nothing more then large pits of ankle deep mud with nets streched across the center. The semi-finals were going on as she arrived, so only two of the courts were in use. The other two were vacant, with exception of a few people wrestling around, and throwing mud at one another. Joyce watched as a college girl dressed in blue shorts, x-large white t-shirt and white ankle calf length socks walked toward one of the pits. She gently stepped into it, and her feet sank right in to just above her ankles. The girl continued to walk, moving a few feet forward, then she slipped and fell butt first intot the mess. As Joyce watched this, her heart was pounding at a furious pace. She was dying to see what it was like to, but she was still a little embarassed about doing it. Just then a gentleman came up to, and said “Looks like fun, don’t you think?” Joyce was surprised by the man. She said “yes, it does look like fun.”

“Why don;t you join in?’ The man said.

“I don’t have a change of clothes” Joyce replyed

“Just take around aorunf the pit. It’ll be fun”

“I don’t know…” Joyce said.

“I’ll give you $100 dollars to just walk across the pit, and back again.”

Joyce thought about this for moment. She thought to herself “I could just wash my feet off, and Joe will not know” So she told the man “o.k., I’ll do it.” Joyce looked carefully at the man, and asked him “Have we met before?”

“No, I don’t think so”

Joyce just shrugged her shoulders, and set about to her task. She kicked off her flats, walked towards the pit. She was dressed in a white blouse, black skirt, and black panyhose. As she walked towards the pit, she admired the feeling of stepping on the many bits of mud that had been thrown about. When she reached the edge of the pit, she paused for a moment. “Well here goes” she thought, and stepped forward. As her right foot sank into the mud, Joyce was overwelmed by the feeling of mud oozing around her nylon covered foot. Without much hesitation, she quickly brought her other foot forward, and there she was, standing ankle deep in the mud. She started to slide her feet around, just enjoying the feeling, before continuing across the pit. Each step caused her to become more and more aroused. She would never have believed that this could feel so good. When she reached the opposite edge of the pit, she had a look of disappointment on her face, as she knew that her fun was already half over. She turned around, and headed back. As she got about half way across, two kids jumped in front of her, and started to wrestle around. She didn’t want to ruin their fun, so she started to walk around them, and that’s when it happened. As she walked around, the ground under her feet seemed to dissappear. Suddenly Joyce sank up to her waist into a large, deep mud hole. She her nylon and cotton cover crotch hit the mud, she let a groan of pleasure. When Joyce opened her eyes, she looked down, and saw her skirt floating on top of the mud. Everything else from the waist down was buried in mud. Joyce started to move around, but the going was slow. Then all of the sudden, the man who offered the $100, came up to the edge of the deep mud hole, with microphone in hand, and said “Smile, your on Candid Funny Practical Joke Videos” It was then that Joyce recognized the man, he was the host of a nationally televised program that catches people on hidden caerma as pracical jokes are played on them. Joyce couldn’t help but start to laugh.

“Would you like to know who played this joke on you?”

Joyce just nodded yes. Then from the crowd that had gathered, out stepped Mandy, dressed in a white jogging suit, and white socks. She trotted across the pit, and jumped in to the hole with Joyce. Mandy, being shorter than Joyce, sank almost up to her tits. “See, I told you you would like it.” Mandy bragged. “You little shit!!” Joyce said, as she started to throw mud at Mandy. Then the wrestling began. Within no time, both them were covered in mud. To get back at Mandy, Joyce reached down below the mud, put out the waistband of Mandy’s jogging pants, instantly filling them with mud. Joyce let the waistband snap back, and crawled out of the pit.

“Just try to get out of there now” Joyce laughed.

Mandy tried to move, but it was no use. There was no way she would be able to move with her pants filled with so much mud. But, having very little modestly, Mandy simply slipped the pants off as far a she could, and slowly crawled out of the pit. There Mandy stood, in her muddy Sweat shirt, ankle socks, and panties, all covered in mud.

“I’ll have to make sure Joe and I watch something else on Sunday. If he see’s this program, I’ll never here the end of it.” Joyce exclaimed.

“Oh I don’t think that will be a problem” Mandy said, as she went back to the pit to retrieve here pants.

“Why do you say that Mandy?”

“Because I recorded the whole for myself”

Joyce turned around, and there was Joe, with camcorder in hand. Joe gave Joyce a big hug, and said “I knew you had it in you”

Just Another Day at the Office

My secretary is the world’s biggest tease. She insists on being called an “administrative assistant” and this truly is a more accurate description of the nature of her job. I still call her my secretary because it pisses her off. Carla is about 5’7″ and has thick black hair that hangs down to her shoulders. Sometimes she wears it in a frizzy perm and other times in soft gentle curls. She has big dark eyes and long lashes . She can get anything she wants with her smile and she knows it. She has a body that bespeaks several hours a week of aerobics and the stairmaster. If she wasn’t so good at her job my partner and I would have fired her long ago. Carla has evolved from secretarial work to administrative assistant in a very short time. I have gotten to the point where I actually encourage her creative input. She also has a talent for flirting that is truly exceptional and she seems to know exactly how far she can go with any given man. I hate to admit it but she has gotten us a lot of business with this skill.

I am part owner of an advertising agency. We produce commercials for the local television station for businesses here in town. This is a stressful business that requires one to think creatively under enormous pressure. This pressure sometimes leads to behavior that is somewhat less than mature. Take our annual practical joke war. Each year in the springtime Carla and I play a series of practical jokes on one another involving a common theme. Two years ago the theme was plastic spiders (she didn’t speak to me for a week after I hid a real tarantula in her desk drawer) and last year it was water. The water war was fun. It started with small squirt guns and the standard water bucket on top of the door gag and ended at a lawn party with both of us fully clothed in my neighbors swimming pool.

I thought long and hard about this year’s theme and decided to approach the subject in a way that would appeal to Carla yet not make her so mad she would quit her job. Susan, my partner, would kill me if that happened. Each year we all go out to lunch at our favorite restaurant during secretaries week. (We call it “Carla Appreciation Week” at our office.) I volunteered to make the reservation this year. I went to the restaurant the day before and explained to our waitress what I had in mind. Her eyes got big and she said, “Are you sure you want me to do this?” When I said yes she said “I’m going to enjoy this more than your secretary!”

So the next day we’re sitting at the table in the restaurant waiting for Carla to finish her cigarette (this is one of the many ways she gets back at me for calling her a secretary) . As usual, Susan and Carla were dressed at exactly opposite ends of the spectrum. Susan was wearing a perfectly tailored business suit while Carla was wearing a black leather vest over a white blouse and her tightest jeans. The waitress came to our table carrying a dozen roses which she ceremoniously handed to Carla.

I said, “Carla, Susan and I just want to thank you for being such a great secretary.”

The waitress picked up a large cream pie from a nearby dessert cart and pushed it into my face. She twisted the pie slowly back and forth and said, “She’s not a secretary she’s an administrative assistant you moron!” I could hear Carla howling with laughter along with everyone in the restaurant.. Everyone but Susan, that is. I let the pie slowly drop into my lap and looked over at them. Carla was still laughing uncontrollably while Susan’s face had the pained expression it always has when she thinks Carla and I are acting childish.

Susan is your typical Nordic ice-queen. She has long blond hair, high cheekbones, a small perfectly turned up nose, and impossibly deep blue eyes. She also has no sense of humor at all. Needless to say, she handles all of the financial aspects of our business while Carla and I handle the creative part.

I wiped some of the pie off my face and said, “So what do you think our theme for this year’s practical joke war should be?”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” said Susan.

“I think it’s a great idea!” said Carla as she drew her finger across my face and tasted it. “What kind of pie is that? It’s perfect for plastering someone.”

“Buttercreme frosting. Just go down to Carol’s bakery on Fifth street and tell her I sent you.”

We both agreed wear clothes that we didn’t mind getting pie on for the next two weeks. Susan also made us agree not to hit each other with pies while our clients were in the office. Carla and I both rolled our eyes at this request.

The next day Carla and I watched each other very carefully and Susan watched us both with a mixture of disdain and amusement. Carla was wearing a black blouse and a tight black leather skirt. I always watch her carefully when she wears that outfit. Later that afternoon, as I was coming out of the copy room I noticed Carla putting on her black leather gloves and jacket as she left the building. I rushed into the office and grabbed the pie I brought. I quickly went out the door Carla always takes when she goes on a cigarette break and sure enough, there she was, standing with her back to me telling a group of people about our “pie war”. I snuck up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and I slowly pushed the pie into her face and held it there.

I said, “Okay folks, how many of you think Carla is way over matched in this contest of wits?” This resulted in a chorus of applause and laughter. I released the pie and Carla stood there with her hands at her sides and listened to everyone laughing while the pie slowly slid down her face. Then she took a puff on her cigarette and said, “Very good. I can see I’m up against a pro here.”

Carla left before I did that day and as I walked to my car I congratulated myself on outsmarting her on the first day. I got in my car and just before I turned the key I got a pie in the face. Carla held it there and spoke directly into my ear. “You should always check your back seat before you get in a car. You never can tell who might be hiding back there.” She got out of my car and said, “See you tomorrow sweetie”

This went on for a week. One of the best times I got her was while she was on the phone. She was talking away while staring out the window. I snuck up behind her and waited for her to finish talking. She was saying something like, “Okay, I’ve gotta get back to work … Ohhh ” as she turned to get a facefull of buttercreme frosting. “No, I’m allright. Remember that pie in the face thing I was telling you about? Well, I just got one right in the kisser…” . She sat there with the phone in her ear and her face up turned so that the pie just sat there. “How does it feel? It feels like a facial with crust. You should try it sometime.” I squeezed her shoulder and left, laughing.

One night right after I got home from work there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and there was a beautiful blonde in a cheerleader outfit. “Hi, my name is Shelly and I’m selling cookies for my cheerleader squad.”

“That’s great, what kind do you have?” I asked.

She quickly took a pie from behind her back and let me have it. “Oh, wait. Actually I’m selling pies. I can never get that straight.” she said while she twisted the pie back and forth. I could hear Carla giggling in the background.

“That’s not fair,” I protested. “You can’t let other people hit me!”

“Okay. Here.” Carla pushed a pie into my face while the blonde laughed.

Well two can play that game.

The next day Carla put on her long black leather trench coat and left the building for her afternoon smoke break. She sensed something was wrong as soon as she stepped out the door. “Why aren’t any of you smoking?” she asked. She quickly turned around to check behind her. There was no one there. As she turned back around one of her fellow secretaries gave her a pie in the face. This was quickly followed by one on either side of her head. I emerged from the building just in time to put one on top of her head. She stood there in stunned silence while everyone had yet another laugh at her expense.

I ceremoniously drew my finger across her face and tasted it. “Allright, breaktime’s over. Don’t you have some filing or typing to do?”

Carla tentatively touched her hair with her gloved fingers and winced noticeably when she realized what a mess she was. “I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to top this,” she said.

The next few days were uneventful since we were in the process of negotiating for a series of commercials for one of the biggest auto dealers in town. We would all be significantly wealthier if we won this account. We decided to close the deal at our usual restaurant over lunch.

In addition to the money, I was really hoping to get this account because the client, Amanda Jacobs, has an excellent sense of humor. I just knew she would really appreciate the funny commercials Carla and I could come up with. As it turned out, old Amanda had a better sense of humor than I realized.

After lunch we presented Amanda with the contract and she announced, “Everything looks great but before I sign there is one small service I want you partners to provide to demonstrate the depth of your commitment.”

Susan and I looked at each other and then Amanda with no small amount of suspicion. Then I noticed that Carla had stood up and was motioning to our waitress who was wheeling a dessert cart loaded with pies to our table.

“If you want me to sign this contract you’re going to have to let Carla and I give each one of you four pies in the face or wherever we deem appropriate,” Amanda said. “Carla and I have been holding some additional negotiations that we decided not to tell you about.”

Susan groaned.

I said, “Good one Carla. I’m going to have to concede victory here.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Susan.

“Trust me Susan, I’ve never been more serious,” Amanda said with equal parts conviction and bitchiness. Then she picked up a pie and said, “I’m going to count to three …”

“Allright, allright I’ll do ohhhhh…” was all Susan got out before Carla pushed a pie into her upturned, disbelieving, pretty face,.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for 3 years!” Carla said as she slowly twisted the pie back and forth. The restaurant erupted in loud cheers and laughter.

“Amanda, I’ll really owe you one if you let me give her the next pie,” I implored.

“Yeah, I think he deserves this,” said Carla as she handed me a pie.

“If you do that I’ll never speak to you again,” snapped Susan.

“Promises, promises,” I laughed and then I carefully plastered her hair. Amanda took over and gave her the other two pies, taking great care to get as mush as possible on Susan’s business suit.

“Now it’s your turn sweetie,” said Carla, holding up a pie.

I stood up and gave her a long kiss, “Lemme have it, partner!”

Carla stopped, “You mean it?”

I looked at Susan. “Is that okay with you, Susan?”

Susan looked up at us wearily under several ounces of frosting and a ruined business suit and said, “Sure, why not. I’ve already got one immature loon for a partner, why not have two?”

That was the last civil thing she said to either of us for a month.

Subject: WAM — Story: Messy Torture

Steve peered through the brush ahead and adjusted his goggles silently. Silence was all around him. He could feel the presence of the enemy—somewhere. In his admittedly poor camouflage—jeans and a green t-shirt—he was an easy target. No need to make himself an easier one. He reviewed his orders mentally, went over what Roger had told them all before dispatching them on the day’s patrols.

“This is the largest capture-the-flag game we’ve ever played, and it has the broadest rules. Run your patrols, learn what you can, but don’t get captured—a two-man team in Sector Five:B was taken down last night while you were asleep. One man was taken, the other escaped to tell us that, on-the-spot, the enemy was just barely within the limits of the rules on torture, and promising to do more. That is all.”

Steve sighed inwardly and continued to observe from his designated station. An all-female army was out there, just trying to capture him and the rest of his team, scattered around Sector Four. Even if, in reality, he was a twenty-three year old magazine writer, with a nice little place to stay and a cool car and no real troubles, here in the field he was a man at war, in constant danger. He was ready, able, and—alert? He thought he saw something move in the clearing a few bushes away from him. He adjusted his scope, but made a little too much noise and felt the presence of three women around the bush. “Come on out, Green scum,” said one of them. Steve was trapped. “Don’t make us have to use force,” said another voice.

Reluctantly Steve realized that he had no choice, and slowly rose out of the bush. “Hands UP!” barked the attractive brunette who was now a foot away from him. Steve brought his hands up and felt hands from behind taking his water pistol and all his spy equipment. “Looks like we caught ourselves a Green SPY, girls,” said the brunette. “Step out of that bush, and don’t try anything funny.” Steve stepped out of the bush, and he never considered trying anything funny—being face-to-face with such a pretty woman tends to destroy a man’s thoughts of escape. “Let’s MOVE, girls, it’s daytime here,” ordered the brunette, and two strong hands forced Steve’s hands behind his back, where a pair of cheap handcuffs was applied, and a shove from the rear got Steve moving. After a second or two of getting a decent view of the brunette’s shapely rear, a blindfold was wrapped around Steve’s face, and he proceeded in darkness and silence.

Finally they reached a building of some sort; Steve heard a door open, then close behind him. The blindfold was removed and he saw that he was in an old shed, remodeled the month before during the preparation period for the war. The whole building was probably camouflaged in some way, Steve reasoned, like the men’s base. Windows were boarded over, and a chair was attached to the floor, which Steve was forced to sit in and be attached to with a chain attached to the handcuffs. Finally he got a good look around, and saw that whatever treatment he was going to receive, it would be at the hands of the brunette. He doubted there was much chance of escape at this point—the door was locked and he felt sure there might be other nearby stations with enemy operatives nearby. He was caught, and it was up to the Browns to make the first move.

The brunette spoke. “My name, Green, is Sylvia. You will answer only when spoken to and you will tell me what I want to know or there will be consequences for you. Understand?” A subdued Steve nodded. “Well then, Green,” said Sylvia in a slightly less authoritarian voice, “what is your name, so that I can address you more specifically?”

“Steve,” Steve said quickly. He had received training, after all, and he knew that the best way to go was to answer such questions quickly and to the point, and to hold one’s lips only on those things which were of key importance. It was always possible that he might not even be asked about such matters—although it was doubtful.

“All right, Steve. We may begin. First, what were you doing in that bush when we found you?”

Steve replied obediently, knowing it wasn’t important, “I was running patrol for my side, as per my orders.” Sylvia looked impatient. “And what were you patrolling for?”

“Signs of enemy activity.” He avoided the specific phrasing, which included “…to be reported back to base” as that would bring up the topic of home base. Sylvia did not seem satisfied, however. “Who gave you those orders?” “My commanding officer.” “Where were the orders given?” “At my regional base.” “And where is that?”

Steve simply replied, “I don’t know,” which was the appropriate response. “I don’t belive you,” was Sylvia’s icy reply. “Where is your regional base?”

“I don’t know.” Sylvia walked behind Steve and apparently rummaged around in a box. She walked around to face him, and he got a good look at her, dressed in an outfit much like his, only with a brown t-shirt instead of green. It was a tight fit and he couldn’t help getting hard, watching her watching him. Then he noticed what she was holding—a labelless brown bottle, which he recognized as a chocolate syrup bottle. Steve was a bit surprised, but kept his straight face as Sylvia said, “Do you know what this is?” He nodded. “Good.” Sylvia walked up to him and he got even harder looking at her body, so caught up in his view that he didn’t think to try and kick her. Then he saw her pull the cap off the bottle and bring it up over his head. He could only close his eyes reflexively as the stream of warm, thick syrup dropped onto the top of his head and began pooling outward. Soon the first drip ran over his face, and he felt the flow increase—no doubt Sylvia was squeezing harder. Harder was what Steve was getting as the goo slid down his neck in several places and began to stain his green shirt. “Soon you will be a brown too, little Green boy,” Sylvia said, and it was true. Abrubtly the flow cut off. “More direct method,” said Sylvia, and she brought the bottle down, right in front of his face, and squeezed so that it went directly on to his shirt. It travelled slowly from the feel of it, but it was gradually covering his front. “Once I’m done, Green boy, it won’t take much for you to be mistaken for one of your own in the night, and be shot down. Do you want that to happen, Green boy?”

Steve realized the fiendishness of their plan. If he wouldn’t talk, they’d simply make him up to be a Brown, and release him at night. He’d be shot down by his own men, and as the water pistols packed a neon-colored paint there would be no way to pretend it hadn’t happened. Still, Steve said nothing as the bottle was emptied, his shirt not yet completely covered. “Hm, looks like we need something more,” said Sylvia, again walking behind him. With the bottle out of his face Steve was able to see that his shirt was indeed quite brown and that he was indeed in trouble. But he was still hormone-charged, and he realized that it had to do with the glop Sylvia was pouring on him as well as her figure. Ooh, how he’d like to get her in chocolate syrup, he thought. Sylvia came back around, holding now a bucket of something brown. Looked like cake batter, maybe brownie batter. It was obviously a lot thicker than the syrup, although a bit lighter. Without further warning Sylvia tipped the bucket over onto Steve’s front, and it quickly spread all over his shirt and down over the crotch of his pants, bringing Sylvia’s attention to his hard-on. “Hm, what’s this?” she said teasingly. “Answer me!”

Steve mumbled something. “Speak up!” “Well, ah, Sylvia, it’s just you’re so beautiful, and this stuff feels good..”

Sylvia blinked. This was not what she had expected. This torture was supposed to disgust her captures, and if it failed, force them to be gunned down by their teammates. But turn them on? Still, she could use this to her advantage. “Speak freely, Green. Tell me about how beautiful I am.”

Steve’s reply got jumbled up with moans of pleasure, but Sylvia got an idea. “Steve, there are armed guards outside every exit to this room. You cannot escape. So, I propose a deal. If you tell me the secret of your base, I will allow you to treat me as you will with these foods.”

Steve’s already hard cock reacted as if tossed in liquid nitrogen—it hardened another notch. His sense of duty crumbled under the possibilities. “All right!” he cried. “By the fork in the stream where there is a tree stump low down on the river bank—there is an old building covered by vines and weeds and buried in mud so that it looks like a hill—the entrance is down on the river bank!”

Sylvia spoke a few words through a slot in the wall to the next room, then there was a long waiting time before a response came back. Sylvia looked over to her captive. “Good work. They’ve found something. I am an honourable woman, so here goes.” She walked over and uncuffed Steve. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but she may have singlehandedly won the war for her side, and the prospect of being covered in gunk herself was actually turning her on as well. Steve stood up, rubbed his wrist and wiped the chocolate out of his eye. “All right,” he said, and he set to work. After handcuffing Sylvia as he had been handcuffed, he looked in a box behind the chair to find all manner of goo. First a bottle of chocolate syrup. Walking around, he brought it over, rested it right on top of Sylvia’s right breast, and squeezed, hard, sending a beautiful thick pool of goo all over her sexy chest. It soaked the tight fabric and outlined Sylvia’s braless breasts perfectly. He could see that her nipples were hardening up—was she enjoying this too? He looked up to see a broad smile on her face as he brought the bottle to her other breast and repeated the process. The bottle was soon discarded, and Steve reached over and began to rub his hands—and Sylvia’s breasts—in the chocolate. It felt…good. Sylvia let out a moan, and Steve could only grin and rub his crotch a bit as he walked around to grab a bucket of the batter. Sylvia’s eyes widened and her breath quickened as Steve brought the bucket up and emptied it over Sylvia’s head, instantly obscuring her features beneath a veil of sexy chocolate. Steve set the bucket down as the batter flowed down Sylvia’s neck and onto her shirt, and placed his lips on hers for the tastiest kiss he’d ever received, which only got tastier as Sylvia’s tongue worked its way into his mouth. He withdrew, though, to fetch a big bucket of chocolate pudding. He licked his lips as he pulled Sylvia’s jeans away from her slightly and tipped the bucket into her jeans.

Sylvia moaned and wiggled her hips back and forth to feel the pudding squish around her. In went Steve’s hand, which happily smooshed the pudding around and got a feel of Sylvia’s panties. “Next!” said Steve aloud as he took from the box a bucket of dark, liquid fudge, which of course went straight into Sylvia’s panties, with appropriate “handiwork” from Steve. By now Sylvia was moaning full force and approaching orgasm, which Steve could see, so he quickly unzipped her pants, releasing the pudding, and stuck his face into her panties, licking frantically, tasting the sweet, rich taste of fudge, and Sylvia’s womanhood. She came in seconds, and as Steve was extremely close to doing so himself, he pulled off his pants and shorts, unhooked the handcuffs, and brought himself into a gooey embrace with Sylvia, who was apparently quite willing, and as they rocked back in forth, his cock inside her, she grabbed at the various buckets and bottles and emptied them onto both of their bodies, creating a wonderful sexy chocolate fuck which neither of them would ever forget.

Finally, though, the fun was over, and each of them had come three times. They sank to the slimy floor and looked at each other. “Well, Brown,” said Sylvia, all of her previous contempt gone, “that’s the most fun I’ve had torturing someone, ever!”

Steve looked at her and said, plainly, “That’s the most fun I’ve had being tortured, ever! Can we do it again?”

And they did—but that’s another story.

END

—MessyBoy

A Messy Makeup, by shoksy@aol.com (m/f, messy play, pies, sex)

Part 1

Jake checked his cart one more time. Did he have everything he needed? He wanted to make sure that this night was something Sara would really love. He felt so bad about forgetting their anniversary, even though Sara had said it was okay. So he decided to makeup for it by setting up a night of messy play. He had planned it all out, was buying the suppyies now, and would go back to their place and set it up. It had been a couple months since he actually had surprised her with a good gunging, and she always loved it when he did.

Jake picked up one more can of whipped cream before he checked out, then went back to the apartment. He put the chocolate cream pies and whipped cream he had boughten in the fridge, to keep them cool till Sara got home, and placed the rest of the materials on the kitchen counter. Three cans of chocolate frosting, three cans of vanilla, 5 bags of brownie batter, 2 french vanilla cake mixes, plus the 4 pies in the fridge, and 2 cans of whipped cream. “Ya, this is enough to get Sara dripping in goo” Jake thought with a big smile on his face.

He went to work covering the kitchen and dinning room floors with the clear plastic painters tarps they kept around for these occasions, making sure to lead a trail off to the bathroom for afterwards. Looking down at his watch Jake realized time had slipped away from him, and Sara should be home any minute now. He quickly arranged the supplies on the counter so he would have easy access to them, then hurried into the bedroom to get himself ready.

Sara’s key jiggled in the lock, a second later she opened the door to the apartment and walked in. As she hung up her jacket she felt those oh so familiar arms wrap around her waist, and those soft lips she loved so much gently kiss the back of her neck. She felt something else too though, something slick touching the top of the back of her legs. Sara turned around to find Jake wearing nothing but a pair of black, tight, plastic briefs, and a big grin on his face.

“Got something planned hmmmmmm?” Sara asked with an inquisited look on her face.

“You bet I do!” Jake quickly responded. “I know our anniversay was yesterday, and you said it was okay that we didn’t do anything, but it’s really not. I wanna celebrate our love for one another… and have some fun doing it too.”

Sara looked at Jake with a smile spreading across her face, “wanna help me with my zipper? I know you already have my outfit waiting”

Jake let out a little chuckle, then *very slowly helped Sara take off her clothing, and even got in a few gropes as they headed back to the bedroom to put her outfit on. Jake dressed her in a white plastic tunic top and clear plastic panties. They stood in the bedroom for a bit, hugging and kissing. Letting their plastic outfits rustle against one another. Jake finally pulled away from the kiss and took Sara’s hand in his, then lead her out to the dinning room.

Sara lay on the plastic covered dinning room table, waiting for Jake to return from the kitchen. Jake finally appeared in the entry way to the room, holding a very large bowl. “So, is there a theme to this night?” Sara asked.

“Well, most couples share some kind of cake or dessert for their anniversary, so I figured we could just make each other into some instead” Jake grinned as he replyed back to her. “Oh goodie, does this mean I get to get you back good?” Sara asked with a gleam in her eye.

“Yup” Jake answered with a smile. “I got enough stuff for you to have your way with me.”

Sara giggled at that, but her giggling turned into a gasp when Jake poured the contents of his bowel, the french vanilla cake mix, down her tunic. Slowly he spread it around her chest and stomach with his hands on top of the plastic. Sara closed her eyes and just consitrated on the goo running over her erect nipples, and slidding down her back. She just laid there, eyes still closed, for a while, until she realized Jake was gone. She opened her eyes again to see him re-entering the room, carring 3 containers of frosting. He placed them on the table and opened each one. Then grinned down at Sara before he placed a hand in one jar and scooped out almost all of its contents. Slowly, mathotically, he spread it across the white plastic covering her chest, gentely playing with her nipples through the plastic. While scooping up another handful of frosting, Jake leaned in and softly kissed Sara then before their lips parted, he smeared the contents of his hand all over her plastic clad crotch. Sara broke the kiss, letting out a moan as she did so. Jake moved down her body more and carefully finished spreading the frosting on, till she had a nice layer covering all of the plastic. Then giving her a quick kiss, Jake said he would be right back.

When he returned both his hands were behind his back. He leaned down and placed something on the ground, but Sara coun’t see what. When he stood back up, she could very clearly see the whip cream can in his hand. He popped the top, and slowly spelled out “Happy Anniversary” on top of the frosting. When he was done he smiled big, leaned in and kisssed Sara very passionately. When their lips finally parted he whispered to her “Happy Anniversary Sara, I love you” and then grabbed his camera and stood up to take a picture.

“Oh I knew you couldn’t resist” Sara laughed.

“You know it.” Jake replied. But after taking only one picture he put the camera down. “Wait, somethings missing.”

“What?” Sara asked with a puzzled look on her face.

At that Jake leaned down and picked up the object he had placed on the floor earlier. Sara got just a glimps of the chocolate cream pie before Jake smeared it into her face, and very slowly removed the tin. Carefully, Sara cleaned off her eyes and mouth, then a big grin spread across her face and all she said was “Cheese!!” at that Jake clicked off a few more pictures, then helped Sara off the table… it was her turn now.

Part 2

Jake laid impatiently on the kitchen table, blindfolded. Sara had covered his eyes with a scarf to keep him in a bit more suspence since he already knew the supplies she had to work with. He heard her squishy footsteps approach from the kitchen. Next thing he knew he could feel the coolness of the brownie batter flowing into his briefs. Slowly inching its way down around his erect member. Sara smiled at the low moans that were coming from Jakes mouth as she finished pouring. She smiled big at her work, and trotted off to the kitchen for more supplies. When she came back into the room, Jake was still squirming on the table, brownie batter ozzing out of the plastic briefs. She popped open the three containers of chocolate frosting, and scooped out all the contents onto his chest. Then, with both hands, she *very slowly spread it all over. Carressing and massaging his chest as she did so. Tracing over his nipples with her chocolate covered fingers, sliding her palms down across his belly button. Turning his chest into a layer of milk chocolate frosting.

Jake heard the lid to the other bottle of whip cream being popped off, as Sara slowly started writing with it on his chest.

“It was our anniversary Jake.” She said to him. “So I want everyone to know your mine.” Right after Jake stopped hearing the can spraying, he heard the click of the polaroid camera they had… then felt Sara’s soft lips press to his and he eagerly contributed to a deep, passionate kiss. When she parted from his lips, she removed his blindfold and handed him the polaroid. He could see what she had written on his chest, and laughed as he read the word “Taken! Boy Toy! Sara’s Sex Slave!” And the writing on his crotch read “Sara’s binki” A huge smile spread across Jake’s mouth when he saw that, he looked up and saw Sara smiling too. He only got a to see her beautiful smile for a second though, before Sara planted one of the pies into Jake’s face and rubbed it in before removing the tin. He waited a few seconds before cleaning off his eyes and mouth. When he was done he opened his eyes just in time to see Sara disapear into the kitchen again.

Sara turned around from the fridge with one of the last 2 pies in her hand, and found Jake standing right behind her. “Got plans for that?” He asked as he placed a finger in it and sucked the contents off.

“Ya I do, I was gonna smear this one all over your head, unless you have a better idea.” Sara grinned at him.

“Actually, I do.” Jake replyed and took the pie in Sara’s hand, and the other one from the fridge, and placed them on the counter. Then he placed both of his hands on the neck of Sara’s tunic, and with one quick motion, riped it from her body. Before she even had a chance to say anything, Jake had her pressed to him, lips locked to one another. Just as Sara got really into it though, he pulled away.

“All the frosting was on the plastic.” He said. “Now that its gone, your chest needs something more.” At that he picked up both of the pies, and with a huge grin planted both onto her chest, rubbing them in. After throwing the tins to the side, he laid Sara onto the kitchen floor and stradled her as he slowly rubbed the pie contents around a bit. Sara moaned as he massaged her chest with his hands. The coolness of the pies caused her nipples to get errect quickly, and upon feeling them Jake leaned down and began to suck softly on her right breast. After cleaning that one off, he moved over to her left. Then slowly up her neck to her lips where they engaged in another passionate kiss. By now both were quite turned on, so when the kiss broke this time, both knew what the reason was for. Sara leaned down and ripped Jake’s briefs on. Quickly, she went to work on licking all the brownie batter off of his hard member. When she was done, slowly, she licked her way back up to his lips and softly kissed him. Now it was Jakes turn. He made fast work of her panties in the same maner the he had done her tunic. And in a minute his tongue had her crotch pretty well clear of the vanilla cake mix. He looked up at Sara, her wanting eyes were all the sign he needed. Jake slide back up her body, wrapped his arms around her, and slid himself inside. Both let out moans in unison, and made passionate love there on the kitchen floor, coming together. Slowly, Jake slid off of Sara’s body, and lay next to her cuddling.

Sara rolled over and softly kissed Jake, then looked deep into his eyes. “I love you”

“I love you too.” Jake replyed smiling at her. “Happy anniversay darling.”

Sara smiled back “This was a great makeup hon. But what are you gonna do if you miss another anniversary?”

“Well, guess I’ll just have to think of something better then this to make up for that then.” Jake said.

“Hmmmm… I’ll decide in the shower if you forgetting our anniversary is really a bad thing.” Sara giggled. Then she took Jake’s hand and they walked off to the bathroom, the gunge that had dripped its way down to their feet squishing on the plastic as they went.

The End

Leaving Day Present ===================

Samantha had worked at the same office for well over three years and decided that it was time for a change. Thoughts of her leaving day and well deserved break before starting her new job filled her mind. She was a pretty girl, standing about 5′ 5″ tall with a neatly cut long, blonde bob and piercing blue eyes. Although her face was rounded she was none the less attractive and always made the boys heads turn when she wore her favourite short skirts. On her leaving day Samantha was smartly dressed in a ribbed, white bodysuit which did nothing to hide her ample chest and lacy white bra beneath, a way-above the knee, wrap-around lime green skirt and matching jacket. Her lovely long tanned legs were set off rather nicely by a sytlish pair of black suede high heels. Much to Samantha’s disgust she had heard rumours about what happened when people left the company. Apparentlty one girl had a bucket of custard tipped over her and another had been assulted with a rather large cheesecake! The thought of this made poor Samantha quivver all over…

Come late afternoon everyone in the office had gathered around Samantha’s desk in order to give her a really big send off. After all she was a very popular girl. However, her boss, a rather plump middle aged woman called Linda, asked if everyone would like to step outside the building to watch her recieve her leaving present. Poor Samantha feared the worst…

It was a warm summer’s day outside so she felt rather comfortable just standing their in the cool breeze. Her worse fears, however, were confirmed when Sarah, one of the typists, walked from the building carrying what looked like a huge white cake. As Sarah approached Samantha became aware of the fact that it was not a cake, but indeed layer uopn layer of thick oozey white icing. Samantha shivvered with anticipation of what might happen to her. The cardboard plate that the huge cake sat upon must have been about 10 inches in diameter and maybe topped with cream filling a foot deep. Suddenly Linda spoke…

“Well we’d all like to thank you for all of the effort you have put in over the last three years Samantha, as as a token of our gratitude we love to present you with this lovely whipped cream pie”

Much to her amazement she was mearly handed the pie by Sarah.

“Why don’t you have a carefully look at it”, quipped Linda.

With that Samantha peered right in close to the surface of the pie. In tiny letter the following words were etched in icing.

“Ha! Ha! Got you!”

Without any warning Sam felt a hand raise the pie’s dish and before she could even screw up her little button nose the pie made contact with her face. Due to the depth of the pie it felt like an eterntiy before the thick cream stopped squeezing all over her face and hair.

“Emmmmruph…..”

She gasped as the sweet, sticky filling mashed and oozed all over her pretty face and shuddered as a huge lump of soft cream broke away from the mass of goo covering her face and plopped silently over her chest and deep womanly cleavage. Just for good measure the person pieing poor Sam began to rub the pie dish, first all around her face and then over her shiney blonde locks. By the time the dish had lost it’s adhesion pretty Samantha’s head was nothing more than a creamy wasteland of fluffy, white pie filling. Very softly and femininely she raised her fingers to her face and gently wiped the cream from her eyes. All she could see was a lot of blurred collegues laughing at her. Poor Samantha turned bright red, but this was not really evident beneath her white creamy face pack. She felt humiliated, but the fun was far from over…

It just so happened that the company she was leaving made cosmetics and soap. One bright spark in the warehouse struck upon the idea of using one of the huge plastic container to gunge her with! But, with what? Evetually it was decided that the contained was to be filled with 5 gallons of very thick, green shampoo! After the vesel was filled it was placed next to the slightly weary looking Samantha. Linda piped up again.

“Sorry about that Samantha, what say we give you a nice hair wash to get all of that pie out?”

Samantha, screamed with shock as suddenly a huge bucket of freezing water was hurled mercilessly at her. It managed to drench her tight bodysuit and skirt, but did little to clean her cream face and blonde locks. Poor Samantha was beginning to wish she’d choosen a darker colour bra and top than white as her busty outline began to push through the sodden tight material.

“No, it’s not working!”, sighed Linda “We’ll have to use the shampoo!”

The whole of the office staff went deadly quite as two of the warehouse men picked up the heavy looking container full of stiff green goo and began to raise it just above her head.

“Ready for your hairwash?”, laughted Linda

Poor Samamtha let out a tiny little squeal as the cold, gooey liquid started to poor thickly all over her head. With her eyes and mouth tightly shut her whole head very rapidly began to become emerced in the flowing wave of green ooze. It wasn’t long before the shampoo had found a natural path down Samantha’s once beautiful blonde locks and then over her shoulders. If she had fears about the bucket of water exposing her breasts through her tight top and white bra, then she’d have been twice as shocked to see what her male collegues were feasting their eyes on. The slippery shampoo was now starting to engulf her bodysuit, thickly rolling down the outline of her ample chest. The clingy white bodice and bra was now nearly transparent.

Eventually the flow of cold gooey liquid above her ceased and Samantha slowly reached up with her hands to slick back her long blonde hair. Again she wiped the goo from her eyes with her fingers and peered out to see people laughing and pointing at her. What was even worse was the fact that although her gunging had finished the flow of shampoo running down her body was beginning to engulf her short skirt. Samantha wiggled her legs slightly in order to shake some off, but her lovely lime green skirt was stuck fast to her thighs and bottom. Resinging her self to the slippery mess she just remained still as the runny goo effortlessly made it path down her shapley legs, forming a large puddle of green liquid around her shoes.

“Are you OK?”, asked Linda quietly.

“I don’t know…”, sobbed poor Samantha looking up mornfully. “How am I ever going to get cleaned up?”

“Don’t worry!”, replied Linda. “It’ll all wash out and we have some spare clothes for you to change into afterwards.

Samantha now felt a little better about her leaving present, but was still fearful about what was next to come.

“So, what happens next?”, she equired

“We have to show you off to everyone. It would be a shame for everyone to miss the fun!”, smiled Linda.

Samantha felt a little confused at this, but all became clear as one of the warehouse men approached her pushing a large wheelbarrow. To her shock it was filled to the brim with even more green, mushy liquid soap.

“Climb in!”, ordered Linda

Very slowly Samantha lowered her lovely little bottom towards the soft, green mess and pushed it firmly down. Steadying herself she grabbed hold of the side of the barrow and got herself as comfy as possible. All of the time she could feel the wet liquid soap squeezing around her legs and skirt. Quite a lot of it oozed past her fingers as displacement forced a great wave of the stuff down the sides of the barrow. Eventually, after a bit of squirming about she was ready.

How everyone cheered as she was wheeled around the office complex squeling and kicking her legs with embarrassment. Many of the people there couldn’t believe what they were seeing. A smartly dressed office girl completely smeared in pie and soap having the ride of her life. By the time Samantha climbed out of the barrow the back and bottom of her outfit was just a wash with the soft, green liquid.

What a day it had been!