The Bathing Beauty, by Oliver

The Bathing Beauty (f, swimwear, an unbelievably stick concoction of mess!)

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Hi, my name’s Vanessa! If your intrigued by the title of this article then your probably just as confused as I was to start with! This was perhaps the most fun assignment I’ve had for a long time and certainly the stickiest, so read on…

As you’ve probably guessed from the introduction I’m a model. I’ve being doing this now for about three years, ever since I was eighteen. Maybe if I describe myself to you then you’ll understand why. I’m about 5’8″ with long, shoulder length, curly red hair. My eyes are greeny-blue and I measure 38-26-32. As you can see I’m very fortunate in the chest department. The way things always seem to work out mean that I get a lot of lingerie and swimwear assignments. I feel very proud of my body and am not shy of stripping off for the camera. You won’t be surprised to hear that I have entered quite a few wet t-shirt and bikini contests, some of which I have won. But none of this was enough to prepare me for the outrageous situation I was about to end up in.

It all started one rainy October morning. I was just staggering out of bed when I heard the phone ringing. It was my agent calling to see of I was interested in a modeling assignment on the South Coast. This location, to say the least, is a very strange one, but I was reluctant to turn it down for fear of not being able to pay the mortgage that month. A company were making an adult video and wanted a young lady to pose for some sexy shots wearing just a tiny string bikini. I was told that I would not be required to strip any further than that, but there was a good chance I was going to get wet whilst filming. However, they failed to tell me exactly how drenched I was to become. I wasn’t too worried at the time about the fact that my bikini might get soaked, after all I had been in several wet t-shirt contests and they were great fun. So, off I set in my little red car, all the way down to the South Coast to find out more about what exactly would be required of me.

Upon arriving it wasn’t long before they had coaxed me into wriggling into a skimpy, bright pink bikini and patent black high-heels. It was at that point when I finally discovered exactly what was required of me. The producer explained that they were making a messy swimwear video. Basically it was a fetish shoot for guys who liked to see girls in bikinis get covered in custard pies and sloppy mess. I did not mind so much, but they could of told me just what I was letting myself in for! I found it quite amusing that some men would actually get turned on by looking at a girl in a bikini having mess tipped all over her. However, I was quite prepared to be on the receiving end of the goo as long as it wasn’t too cold and squishy. My set was going to consist of me standing in a small rubber pool whilst two guys poured lots of smooth gloop all over my bikini clad body. Oh well! The hourly rate was good! So that’s exactly what they did and videoed everything right down to the very last detail. I just had to writhe around a bit and pretend I was getting really turned on by it all. Just for all of you ‘dripping bikini’ fans here’s a pretty graphic account of what I can remember about the occasion.

The part of the video I was to be cast into was called “Bikini Gunge Fantasy”. Mind you, it wasn’t just my bikini that disappeared beneath the runny slop, my hair, face, shoes etc. You name it – it got ‘Gunged’. Once the camera crew decided that the lighting looked just right something resembling a children’s paddling pool was placed exactly where the action was to be shot. If you’ll pardon the expression a couple of ‘dry’ runs were shot with me standing in the pool, shoes and all, so that they could practice me modeling my rather tight, pink bikini. Once both make-up and the crew had decided I looked ‘sexy’ enough to start filming, the systematic destruction of my bikini clad body was to begin.

The first thing they wanted to do was coat me in cooking oil. As the music began to play I was asked to start dancing as provocatively as possible. So as I began to wiggle and rub my hands over my thighs two eager looking guys began to tip a bottle each of what smelt like sunflower oil all over my bear shoulders. It wasn’t so much cold, but very slippery and the flowing lakes of oil rapidly turned my tiny pink bikini bra a dark, glossy colour. They poured the stuff everywhere, including over my hair, which I was not too pleased about, but nevertheless I tried my best to giggle as I stroked my wet and very greasy body with my palms. The reminents of the oil flowed into the pool making standing in a new pair of heels very difficult indeed. If you thought that patent leather high-heels were shiney, then try pouring oil onto them!

So there I stood, drenched in cooking oil, my bikini wet and very glossy with my now flattened, maine of red hair falling around my shoulders in gooey strands. What more could they want? But they were far from completely sludging me down. The next shot would involve another guy walking up behind me and emptying a two litre urn of warm gravy all over my head. Trying not to grimace I prepared myself for the shock. As the camera rolled the guy carefully raised the large white jug just above my head. For full effect I was asked to lean forward and place both hands on the tops of my legs, my forearms gently squeezing my firm boobs together. The guy with the urn couldn’t contain himself with the sight of my glossy, oiled cleavage and started to empty the vesel in good, thick waves over my hair and face. It was soft, warm and very slippery as it oozed it path over my nose, chin and then dribbled smoothly all over my heaving chest, submerging my bikini bra in a sea of brown sludge. The warm goo seem so inviting that I began rub both hands up and down my belly, smoothing it all in. I freely admit that the sensation of being totally smothered in gravy was rather lovely.

I bet myself earlier on that at some point whipped cream would feature and I was far from wrong. Having only just wiped the gravy from my eyes they wanted to completely ‘cream’ me from head to foot. When I was a little girl I so desperately wanted to be a ballet dancer, who’d of thought ten years later I’d be dancing in a plastic pool, covered in food! However, the idea behind the next shoot was to get me to dance so that I was twirling around in the pool. Obviously, the guys (and viewers) could get maximum coverage and a view of my poor body being smothered in that sticky canned cream. So as I began to turn around as sexily as I could two steady jets of fluffy cream were directed up and down. This smothered my torso, bikini and legs in a thick film of white splodge. This didn’t do a lot for me until it started to melt, leaving trails of milky liquid trickling onto my high heels. So much for whipped cream! This was until one of the guys produced a litre carton of double cream, the stuff you can pour into coffee. He raised the tub just above my tummy and working from left to right began to slop the thick white mess all over my bikini bottoms. Once finished the clingy, lycra pants were totally submerged in soft cream. This felt squelchy, cold, but strangely moist and pleasant as the white mess spilled onto the tops of my legs.

The crew were very insistant for the next cut that my gravy covered face be wiped clean and the make-up girl apply fresh mascara and lipstick. In passing the make-up girl asked me just how I managed to bear what they were don’t to me, thinking about it neither do I! The reason they wanted my face clear was for pies. Not just shaving cream on a paper plate though, very sticky deserts and cakes. What they had in mind was a ten inch lemon merangue in the face, a cheesecake on each boob and then a chocolate gateaux smeared across my bottom. Biting my lip I took a huge deep breath and grimaced. It wasn’t long before the pie connected with my poor face. The feeling was indescribable, a kind of cool, almost suffocating sensation that left me gasping and flapping my arms in disgust. Lemon curd was everywhere, most of it dropping in great lumps onto my chest. I was just rubbing the curd and merangue from my eyes when I felt a rich, sticky mess cup my left boob. It was the cheesecake! Seconds later I felt the second pudding smear its way over my sodden bikini bra, only to find both plates then being massaged gently over my bust so as to evenly work in the stodgy mixure. By this time I had given up caring what they did to me. Submissively I bent over, pointed my bottom toward the camera in anticipation of the gateaux. With a soft, crumbly splat the rich chocolate sauce covered cake met with the firm resistance of my backside. The brief bikini bottoms were pulled up fairly snuggly, which left a lot of buttock to get covered in chocolate cream. However, the tiny triangle of pink lycra rapidly dissapering up the crack of my bottom got its fair share of stodgy sauce smeared down it. What a way to ruin a bikini!

At this point in time was was in two minds. One half of me wanted laugh out loud at the ridiculous situation I was in and the other was in complete disgust of the sticky mess smeared over my half naked body. However, I thought it best that I remained smiling sweetly at the camera. After all, at this hourly rate who was I to complain? Unfortunately, if I’d of known what they wanted me to do next then maybe things would have been a little different. One of the guys was staggering over to the pool carrying a green, plastic washing up bowl. From the way it wobbled from side to side I could just tell that there was something nasty lurking inside. More to the point, it was going end up plastered over me! As the bowl was set down next to me in the pool it all became clear. The large plastic vesel was full to the brim with chocolate syrup, the runny kind you’d normally squirt over ice-cream! I could not believe my ears when they told me what I had to do. The idea was that I was going to have to submerge my poor bikini bottoms in it by sitting down in the bowl. As the camera zoomed in on me I smiled a cheeky grin and dropped to my knees in the pool. With a deep breath I began to lower my backside into the thick, brown mess. God, it was cold! The huge vat of gloop was so rich I had to push my bottom very firmly into it, wiggling slightly, before it finally gave way with a strange sucking noise. As I pushed my buttocks slowly under two waves of chocolately muck started to spill from either side of the bowl. I just couldn’t believe what I was doing and started to break out in a fit of giggles, which the crew absolutely loved. Finally I hit the bottom of the bowl, causing the deep sludge to pour over the top of my thighs, engulfing the front of my bikini bottoms too. The tight, lycra pants were right under, just what they wanted to see, so just for the hell of it I grabbed two great handfuls of squidge and streched my long, glossy legs out straight. The two guys looked like they were going to explode as I sensually began rubbing the sauce onto the tops of my legs. What I didn’t see was one of the crew sneaking up behind me. I was busy showing off my long, gunged legs to the camera and completely off my guard. The next thing I felt was the complete horror of something cold and gooey touching my shoulders and back. Yelping with surprise I looked down only to find a similar liquid to that I was sitting in being poured carfully over my shoulders and back. However, this smelt lovely and sweet, just like caramel. I asked the guy pouring the tub if I could taste a little of the sauce. Big mistake! He moved round to the front of me as I provocatively closed my eyes and licked my lips. Splat! He tipped a hugh blob of the goo all over my face and continued pouring. My face and the rest of my bikini clad body were totally submerged in sugary slop. Now completely smothered in really heavy ooze, I never felt so eager to jump into a hot shower and get cleaned up.

One advantaged about being a model is that you, for the best part, are treated with kid gloves. Studios and Agents usually bend over backwards to ensure your welfare, however, today seemed just like a hazy blur of glaring lights and freezing gunge. To calm my nerves and sooth my tired body I headed for the shower in order to get ready for lunch. Two bars of soap later I emerged from the cubical all clean and fresh, ready for the next onslaught of cold, replusive mess to get tipped over me. Still in my dripping, pink (yes, the chocolate and toffee did wash off!) bikini I wraped myself in a fluffy towel and headed back to the studio floor for a buffet lunch. Strangely I did not feel all that hungry as we dicussed the plans for the afternoon and although they complimented me on my performance, I could tell that getting my skimpy bikini smothered in slime was high on the agenda. Drying my body and long, red hair as best I could I tried to image exactly what they were going to ask me to do next. The thought made me shivver with anticipation!

The first bikini splattering of the afternoon did sound like fun. A deep pool has been erected on the studio floor, probably about 6ft square. Inside the pool was gallons and gallons of jelly. All they wanted me to do was jump in and frolic around in the stuff. Simple I thought, but not so! Next to the pool they had placed a minature diving board that was about four feet away from the jelly. I clambered aboard and posed for the camera rolling and stretching my body on the board whilst they line up the shot. The camera man found my clinging, wet bikini facinating! Next it was off with my shoes, but unfortunately for me my feet were still a little oily from the first gunging. I let out a high-pitched shriek as I stumbled over backwards, landing flat on my back, right in the centre of the wobbly red mess! I was not amused, but the crew found it hilarous and they had it all on video! I disappeared into the jelly for a second as I turned just as red! Take two found me having to be rinsed down again so that I looked like this was a totally virgin jump. This time I flaunted my body infront of the camera for a minute or so and then gracefully plummeted into the mire below. Maybe I will make a Balerina after all! The soft ocean of jelly was wet more then anything else and left my skin all slippery, soaking and shiney. I spent ages wriggling, writhing and general getting myself really plastered in the stuff. The feeling of having all of that gelatinous mess rubbed all over was a cold, but pleasing sensation.

I was just standing in front of the camera, showing the world my cold, stiff nipples through the wet jelly covered bikini bra when I was confronted by a guy carrying a large plastic bucket full to the brim with steaming porridge. Half expecting to have my body thickly coated in the warm sludge, I closed my eyes and placed my hands in matted, slimey hair and posed, waiting for the warm mess to start flowing all over my vunerable boobs. However, he seemed more interested in retrieving my shoes for me. Yes, you’ve guessed it! He wanted to film me steping into the bucket of sloppy oatmeal in my high heels! I hastily slipped my dainty feet into the now wet, shiney shoes and prepared to treat the crew. I love to tease, when I can, so I made a point of prolonging the agony for as much time as possible. They were dying for my shoes and legs to go under, but I had other plans. I let my long, curly hair fall around my face and peered up at the camera as sexy as I could. With one finger gently touching my lower lip I smiled cheekily, gently dipping the toe of my right shoe under the soft porridge. I know! I’m a terrible tease, aren’t I! I could tell it was all getting a little to much for the crew so I bit the bullet and firmly pressed my right foot down into the contents of the bucket. The oaty slop spilled out of the sides as my shapely leg dissapered under the porridge, almost up to my knee. I repeated the performance with my other leg and stood looking coy and cute as I wriggled around just to make sure my shoes were in a total mess. I can only describe the contents of the vesel as very soft and warm! Just to satisfy their thirst for messy clothing they ask me to step from the bucket and parade my mucky shoes by walking around in them. This I did as the white, lumpy trail of goo spilt from them into the studio floor. You would not believe how squidgy porridge feels between your toes, when its all inside your shoes! I got to about my third lap of the jelly pool when the enevitable happen. Obviously a five gallon bucket of porridge is too good to waste and it wasn’t long before my large boobs met the same fate as my high heeled shoes! Once again my poor bikini was submerged in the thick film of gooey, smooth sludge. Poor little me!

As warm and dreamy as fresh porridge is rolling down your half-naked body, there comes a time when it starts to cool off and dry up. The crew had the perfect solution to this, amazingly wasteful, but nevertheless very wet. Two of the guys approached me carrying large 3 litre plastic bottles of fresh, full-fat milk. The screw-on caps were duly removed and I closed my eyes as the cool milk ‘glugged’ it way from the bottles. This did an excellent job washing the sticky oatmeal from my body, but left me white, wet and very shiney! This rinsing off now left my gloop splattered bikini open to some really serious thick mess and me standing, heel deep, in a slushy puddle of goo.

Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve always be cursed with boyfriends that seem to have an unhealthy obsession with car repairs. On second thoughts, you probably don’t because you’re male! Silly me! Well, you know that rich, solid green soapy stuff they always wash their oily hands in?! (I just can’t quite remember its name). You can guess what I’m going to say next, can’t you! With the help of a porter’s trolley the most enormous plastic bucket of this stuff was wheeled into the studio, and the lid removed. I was then asked to perch myself on a bar stool. Two of the crew then set about the task of trying to decide how best they were going to smooth the stodgy, green ooze all over me. It was too thick to pour so they did the most amazing thing. Lifting the plastic tub above my head they teased me by holding it about an inch away from my scalp. I was very surprised that it didn’t start to seep over my hair, but hung procariously in its up-side-down container. Without warning the two guys slowly started to push the bucket down over my head as I took a sharp breath of air. To describe having your whole head submerging in liquid soap defies belief, I must of had about 3 or 4 inches of the stuff completely smothering my face and hair. Wiping the soft mush from my eyes and mouth I gasped with horror as the crew proceeded to massage the rest of the green slop thickly over my chest, tummy and legs. It was everywhere! in my ears, up my nose, inside my bikini. Especially the pants, which felt very strange between my legs, being all coated in thick green slime. Again, in the true tradition of ‘gunging’ a girl both shoes were removed, filled with soap and then wriggled back on to my feet. I could not believe how heavy it all was, but relished the fact that it felt lovely and smooth against my skin. As a finale they got me to stand in the rubber pool and start dancing as they hosed me down with warm water. You can probably imagine what kind of a foamy mess I turned into with all of that creamy soap plastered over me.

Because gunging me was taking a long time to video and get the shots just right, it was felt that it would be a shame to spoil the action by hurrying it along. Therefore the decision was made to put me up in a local hotel for the night, all expenses paid of course. You should have heard the offers I got when the crew found out I would be staying for the night! I know I sound boring, but I was just too tired to be any fun. Modelling is so stressful at the best of times, so all I was fit for was a nice hot bath and bed!

Day two saw a surprising change of outfit. The skimpy, shiney pink string bikini that I had been glooped in was discarded in favour of a very low-cut, stretchy, lycra swimsuit. A very daring costume, even by my standards, in a delicious canary yellow. As I wriggled my body into this ‘second skin’ it felt wonderfully tight, leaving the outline of my weighty boobs clearly defined. To top this off I was also supplied with a matching pair of yellow high heeled shoes. Cute huh! In the best of ‘swimsuit gunging’ traditions I just had to have the full wet-look coating of goo before any further mess could begin. To do this they decided it would be a nice idea to smother my body in sticky raw egg. About 12 dozen, grade 0 ones were cracked into two large water jugs and liberally stired. As you can imagine the runny yoke mixed smoothly with the gloopy white made the most unbelievably sloppy mess which the guys were itching to pour all over me. As I posed seductively for the camera the two crew members began the unenviable task of tipping the raw egg all over me. First they started with my shiney, red hair, much to my displeasure (it takes me hours to dry it!). As the mess began to trickle its way over my flowing locks I ran my fingers through it. I have never felt such slippery goo in my life! However, not just content with coating my head in the glossy liquid, attention turned (surprise, surprise!) to my heaving, swimsuit clad bust. Squidgy egg was poured thickly over my cleavage and boobs, leaving the flimsy costume ridiculously wet and clingy. The feeling of the smooth mixture oozing down the skin-tight lycra felt rather sensual and, without realising it, my nipples were beginning to stiffen. Just image what they looked pushing thru my soaking outfit, the crew seemed to notice anyway!

After being fully ‘egged’ all over you can probably image how I looked. I was soaked to the skin and glistening brightly, especially my swimsuit, which felt a bit wet and clammy now, but I didn’t mind too much. Now that I was a looking suitably wet and sexy the crew began to prepare for the first of the sticky sludgings that I was about to receive. The first of the messy sets they were going to tape looked particularily gooey. It was to be called “Girl In The Cake”, but instead of me bursting from it I was going to be jumping into it! The cake basically consisted of a huge polystyrene tub filled with custard, semolina and rice pudding, all nicely decorated with whipped cream and coloured icing. I had to climb up a few steps next to the cake and on the count of three throw myself in. This was a little frightening for me as I was not quite sure just what was going to happen, although I had a pretty good idea! As I stood on the makeshift diving board waiting for the word to jump in I did feel a little vulnerable. I wasn’t quite sure if they were going to be nice enough to warm the gunge up for me. I wasn’t dissapointed! At the count of three I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and lept for all my might. It seemed as if I was suspended in mid-air for ages, until I finally felt the very sloppy, deep, warm goo starting to engulf my legs. “Yes!” I cheered to myself “It’s warm! It’s warm!”. I finally came to rest as my feet touched the bottom of the cake. I was still disbelieving of how the gallons of splodge actually broke my fall, but I certaily did feel safe. Finally I opened my eyes and looked down. I was emerced, right up to my boobs, in a gloriously warm white and yellow, creamy liquid. What a delightful mess, it was gorgeous and I just couldn’t resist sinking myself right under to my neck and then pulling out. My brief little swimsuit, as you can imagine, was completely smeared in the thick ooze and the crew were loving it. For them it was totally ‘Mission Accomplished’. They had wanted to see a young lady having mess plasted all over her tight costume and I think this had exceeded their wildest dreams! Just to make thing a little more exciting I started to grabbed large handfuls of the creamy pudding and rub it sensuosly (I use that term a lot!) over my arms, boobs and through my hair. Unless you have ever been sunk deep into warm desert you’ll probably never understand how smooth and lovely it feels against you skin.

After my little pudding romp it was time to pull myself from the cake and get my swimsuit hosed off. Again, the crew took great delight in standing me in that little rubber pool and rinsing away the gallons of sticky pudding. As I let the torrant of water soothe away the splodge plastered all over me I couldn’t help noticing the facination the crew had with soaking my shoes. The little pair or yellow high-heels did look rather shiney soaked with warm water, but I couldn’t really see the turn-on. Oh well, maybe that’s just me! Soon, I emerged from the ‘wash pit’, as they called it, all gleaming and wet. My long hair was all slicked back and my drenched swimsuit hugging every curve of my body. By the way, if you’re masterbating over the thought of me soaked with water then stop it! Not that I mind, I do feel very flattered you find me attractive, please don’t get me wrong. It’s just the fact that you’ll spoil the story if you miss the next unbelievable ‘sliming’ me and my poor costume are about to endure!

If I asked you what you’d most like to splatter all over my body, what would you say? Custard? Chocolate? Even Cream perhaps? These guys had very different ideas. They wanted to do something very extravagant with tomatoes! Now, I’ve always hated the things so, as you can imagine, I wasn’t to endeering of the idea. Basically what they wanted to do to me was sludge my swimsuit clad body down with everything tomatoey they could lay their hands on. Baked beans, soup, spaghetti hoops and ripe red tomatoes were all destined for a thick, even squashing all over me. Again for full effect yet another large rubber pool was placed in front of the camera. This time the 8ft in diameter tub was completely jam packed with ripe fruits, just waiting to be splattered under my weight. How disgusting! Climbing into the pool, swimsuit and shoes inclusive, took a lot of will power. However, after a great deal of persuasion I took my first tentative steps into the squishy bath. Putting my dainty, yellow high-heel clad foot in first caused 5 or 6 ripe tomatoes into burst and a horrible sloppy, red liquid, full of pips to squelch its way over the pretty shoes. It was no good holding back they just wanted my body writhing around in thick tomato pulp and after a great deal of lip biting I evetually plucked up the courage to sit down in the pool. As I did I could feel the sickly fruits splitting and pushing their gooey wet contents all over my bottom. I finally gave in and bent over to show the camera the benfit of the sloppy red mess plastered all over my lycra clad buttocks and then falling onto my tummy for some real mess making. The more I writhed around the more runny mess got plasted over my body. Despite my hatred for tomatoes, I endeavoured to put on as erotic a show for them as possible. I wriggled, writhed and slithered for ages in the mess, making sure that my hair, swimsuit and heels were well smeared in pulpy, red slop. As I knelt down, provocatively showing off my mush covered body to the camera, the rest of the tomato related gunge was liberally applied for maximum effect. So there I was, hands on hips and sexily pouting at the camera, my long curly hair matted to my checks with red splodge. Could I possibily get any messier? This was the point when one of the crew members decided it would be a great idea to completely deluge what could be seen of my skimpy swimsuit in thick ‘Cream Of Tomato’ soup. I almost passed out as he began to pour the oozey, orange mess, straight from the tin, initially over my shoulder straps and then down onto my cleavage. However, they weren’t content with just cans of soup, despite the slimey mess they were making of my swimsuit. As predicted their favourite 5 gallon bucket was filled to the brim with the smooth orange liquid. As they tilted the heavy vessel just above my head I closed my eyes and grimaced, waiting for the soft goo to thickly coat my shivering body. Suddenly I felt the deluge beginning to run over my head in sloppy waves, until I was submerged in a cold film of mushy sludge. I was so unrecognisable you couldn’t even have told what colour hair I have or what I was wearing. What a mess!

Unfortunately for me it was decided that I still hadn’t been punished enough in my slippery, saucy bath. They had one more gooey act to perform and it was very messy indeed. I was told that in order to finish off filming of sticky ‘tomato’ romp I was going to have my swimsuit filled with baked beans. Now its bad enough having them tipped over you, let alone having great bucket loads crammed inside such a tight fitting costume. Needless to say, however, I did let them have their way and, believe me, it’s one of the strangest sensations I’ve ever felt. The bucket was once again reloaded to the brim with beans. One guy carefully aimed the bucket just above my cleavage and asked me if I would pull the wet, stretchy lycra away from my boobs. With a sticky sucking noise I managed to prise the sodden swimsuit open, leaving a gaping hole in which to pour the sloppy beans down. I just tilted back my head and shut my eyes tight as the eager chap slowely poured the thick, lumpy stodge all inside my costume, until it could hold no more. The tomatoey mess then started to spill from every direction, most onto the tops of my legs. The feeling of this was absolutely weird and my swimsuit bulged comically with the weight of the mucky sauce. The same ritual dunking of my outfit was performed down my back as the low-cut area of swimsuit aroung my bottom was treated to an equally large helping of soft beans. To help proceedings I took great delight in squidging the stuff all over by trying to rub the material flat against my skin. As you can guess my high-heel shoes were also crammed with beans and squashed onto my dainty little feet as even more of the stuff was tipped to liberally coat my legs with mush.

I suppose, all along, that most of the action had been centred around totally smothering me in sticky food. I would have liked the next part to have been known as ‘Synthetic and Natural’, but I’m afraid the rather uncultured crew insisted on ‘Shaving Cream and Mud Delight’. Oh well, it had the desired effect anyway! For this section of the video they wanted to see me in slightly different atire to the usual bikini or swimsuit, but I’m sure if you like this kind of thing you will be as equally delighted. Now steady yourself! Are you ready? They wanted me to dress up in aerobic gear! Yes that’s right! I was about to be totally sludged in a leotard! To be a bit more specific I was given a lovely, skimpy, bright pink number and equally skintight, white cycling shorts. So after hosing all of the tomatoey gunge off my body, I stripped out of the swimsuit and into the dry, sporty outfit. To look the part I tied my long, red hair back into a pony-tail and asked the make up lady to pretty up my face for the next shot. Being the concerned type she asked my exactly what they were going to smother me in this time. When I quite calmly replied ‘shaving cream and mud’ she looked so disgusted. Mind you I can’t say I blaim her either!

So, what kind of excuse would they come up with this time? What plausable scene could they invent that would lead a young lady in a leotard to get plastered in foam and mud? But seeing me wearing the clingy keep-fit wear was just a little too much for them. As I lay on an exercise mat on the floor, I tried my best to go through some good routines that would really show off my big boobs wriggling around inside the leotard. I am sorry to say at that point the crew lost it, and with the camera still rolling, all four picked up a can in each hand and began to squirt. It smelt lovely and soapy as all eight streamers of the stuff began to rain down on me. Unfortunately, as the mat and myself became progressively smothered in shaving cream the more slippery I was starting to find it. Shaving cream is lovely and soft, so I had no hestitation rolling around on the mat as can after can was added to the creamy mound of mess building up. Of course my shiney lycra leotard and shorts were getting nicely ‘creamed’ as I writhed around as sexily as I could. The object of the video was to show off skimpy outfits getting really soaking wet and thickly covered in sludge and mess. So it was decided that one of the crew members would be elected to come and rub me down for maximum leotard coverage in foam. The lucky chap took what seemed like a decade to smooth handful after handful of shaving cream thickly over my costume. By now I was just a complete wet and soapy mess. However, the shaving cream was so smooth and sticky I really didn’t mind. My leotard was also very clingy indeed, emphasizing every curve of my wet body as I writhed around sexily on the mat. Quite surprisingly, the next part of the shot was refreshing novel. I knew that one way or another my skin-tight outfit was going to be thickly annointed with sloppy mud, but how was anyones guess. Briefly we stopped filming whilst the crew adjusted the set. A large bench table was set out behind the foam mat, over which was draped a white, plastic table cloth. To my shock about 40 to 50 pies were wheeled in and set out neatly on the table. These certainly weren’t for eating though! They were mud pies! Yuk!

At this particular moment I was wondering just how these slightly unsavoury looking tarts were going to be administered. I certainly didn’t fancy having the crew’s wandering hands fondling me again, so I was pleased to here about the fact that a ‘special guess’ was going to help me all sludgy in the mud. It was at this point that I was introduced to ‘Natalie’. She was a bright eyed, pretty looking girl with long, almost black, hair cascading in ringlets down to her shoulders. Feeling slightly exposed and a little cold and sticky in my wet leotard I could only manage a kind of half-smile at her. Undetered she enthused about how lovely it was going to be strip off and get all sloshy in the goo with me. Obviously a professional, unlike myself! So off she wiggled in her red mini-dress and high heels to slip into something a little more skimpy. Now I guess, if you have been turned on by what I have been wearing then you might just go pop when I explain what Natalie managed to squeeze into! About 15 minutes later she reemerged from the dressing room, not as expected, in a swimsuit, but in some very sexy lingerie. I couldn’t help thinking what a waste it would be to smother the gorgeous lacey outfit in sloppy mud, but who was I to interfer? After all I was only the star of the video! Would you like to know just what Natalie was wearing? Silly question, uh! Well, where do you want me to start? She had a very tiny white lace g-string, a low-cut patterned basque/suspender belt, patterned white stockings, white high-heels and a pair or those frilly lace gloves. I felt very jealous indeed as I love to romp around in my underwear as much as possible. However, now it was back down to the sticky stuff and time to get filthy with mud.

Basically the idea was that Natalie portrayed the ‘evil’ Madam Mess, who had been praying on a poor keep-fit student, with every intention of ruining her leotard with creamy gunge. So far she had done a pretty good job by soaking me with sticky foam, but now it was almost time for my revenge. However, just before I got to smear mud all over her ligerie ‘Madam Mess’ was planing a very messy punishment indeed. Without telling me what was going on they gave Natalie a hosepipe. I had no idea what was going to be squirted from it, but the crew certainly captured the moment of surprise very well indeed. I gave a squeal of shock as the hose burst into life and Natalie grinned from ear to ear, covering me thickly with it’s contents. I didn’t know what to make of the stuff spurting in gooey waves over the front of my clinging leotard. It looked like a mixture of yellowy-green shampoo and wallpaper paste, but probably best described as gunge! As she stood there piping sloppy mess all over me a tried very hard to continue my ‘work-out’. It was so slippery I didn’t have too much luck keeping my balance, but the crew did get some really great shots of the glossy mush oozing over my lycra clad cleavage. Suddenly the flow of sludge came to an abrupt end as Natalie gasped in horror, she was now totally unarmed! Quickly and without to much thought I picked up one of the mud pies. It was so heavy! Undetered I lunged towards her and planted the cold, wet plate of slop square on her tiny lace g-string. Natalie just closed her eyes, pouted her glossy red lips and gently cooed for me to rub the mud all in. Her knickers were plastered, but she didn’t care! I couldn’t help thinking how much more professional she looked than me, or should I say how much she looked like she was enjoying it. However, before I had any more time to ponder she had already pick up two bulging pies and was thrusting them towards my chest. These splattered thickly all over my leotard clad boobs and were massaged in by her prying hands. This left my hefty bust smeared with rich clay making the sodden lycra cling to them perfectly. My nipples felt ready to burst straight through the costume.

Over the next 15 minutes we managed to smear about 50 plates of sticky mud over each other. As you can well imagine both Natalie and I were well plastered in mess. Just the shapely outline of two busty, young ladies standing there in a slippery, brown coating of smooth, wet goo remained. As Natalie was acting as ‘special’ guest they devoted a small segment of the video to her getting cleaned up from the mud pies. Quite unsurprisingly the cameras were well and truly focused on her showering the now almost see-thru basque and stockings. I felt so jealous that she was receiving end of all the attention, I was almost quite bitchy towards her. However, being the professional young lady I am I managed to restrain myself from being too unpleasant. My clean-up session was a little less glamourous and happened all off stage. Basically I made the mistake of trying to strip out of my mud-soaked leotard before hosing it off clean. It was stuck so tight to my body I thought that it had turned into a second skin!

Finally, it was announced that the crew had most of the shots they wanted and the day was just about to draw to a close. However, there was just one more thing that they were going ask me to do for them. When I heard the plan I must admit that I did breathe a sigh of relief. No more mess this time, just good old-fashioned water and warm as well! Yes, for my grand-finale I was going to be ‘Costume Dunking’ to my heart’s content! Basically, the idea for this scene involved me climbing in and out of a large pool of warm water wearing all kinds of skimpy costumes. I just couldn’t wait to get soaking wet! First off I was asked to wear just an ordinary pair white of bra and knickers. What do you mean? ‘A bit tame’! Leading down to the pool the crew had erected some steps leading down into the water so that I could slowly emerce my body right under. As I cautiously entered the pool I could sense the angst of the guys as my knickers got progressively closer to being soaked. They were going to be dissapointed for long! Within a couple of seconds I had the skimpy garments completely submerged. As I climbed from the hot tub I could hear the crew groaning with excitement as my now dripping, sodden undies came into full view. I had been provided with a lovely selection of garments to soak and if you love the look of the feminine form clad in revealing, wet, figure hugging clothes then I would imagine that you’d enjoy watching this part very much. Next I was asked to slip into a white silk camisole top with matching, skimpy panties. I don’t need to tell you what happened when these were suberged below the swirling warm waters! Needless to say the crew got some amazing ‘wet’ shots of my boobs pressing firmly against the sodden, silky top. Compared to being smothered in raw egg and porridge this was heaven! I was finding it very sexually exciting soaking my outfits, which surprised me a great deal. I love to swim and play in water, but never realised until that moment how nice wet clothes feel against your skin. Strange girl, arn’t I?!

As the scene moved on I was really getting into some nice things to soak. Everything from a black, shiney unitard to a blouse, miniskirt, shoes and tights got dunked into the pool. Dresses, underwear, uniforms, you name it – it got splashed! One interesting costume that I enjoyed soaking was a riding outfit comprising of knee length boots, jodphurs, white blouse and a short jacket. This was duly dunked, so I was right up to my neck in the water. Just imagine what skin-tight, white jodphurs look like freshly dripping from the pool and without any knickers underneath! Believe me, they were twice as skin-tight after the soaking than when they were dry! To finish up I finally agreed, after a lot of coaxing, to swim in the pool nude. I don’t usually do nude modelling, but the moment felt right for it so I was happy to oblige. It’s wonderful swimming around being completely unhinder by a bathing suit. I felt so free and uninhibited, but wouldn’t advise doing a strip like this at the local baths!

“Well, that’s that!” I thought to myself steping nude from the pool into the warmth of a fluffy bath towel. I really had to the draw the line here as the producer was suggesting that I be ‘tied and pied’ completely nude for the credits. Sometimes a girl really has to put here foot down…

I hope you enjoyed the experiences I have shared with you. It was a really gooey mess, but I suppose I would be lying to say that I didn’t think that wet and messy isn’t fun.

Addicted to WAM, by Loon

Path: news.infi.net!news.infi.net!solaris.cc.vt.edu!news-out.internetmci.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!169.132.11.200!news.idt.net!ix.netcom.com!news From: Loon Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.wet-and-messy Subject: WAM: New Story – Addicted to WAM, Part 1 (1 of 2) Date: Fri, 31 Oct 1997 15:40:50 -0500 Organization: Netcom Lines: 434 Message-ID: <345A4252.26FC@spam.please> NNTP-Posting-Host: syr-ny1-17.ix.netcom.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-NETCOM-Date: Fri Oct 31 2:42:34 PM CST 1997 X-Mailer: Mozilla 3.01Gold (Win95; I) Xref: news.infi.net alt.sex.fetish.wet-and-messy:110048

Addicted to WAM by Loon

M/F, wet, story

This is the first in an intended series of stories about a couple and their WAM adventures. This first section contains a good amount of setting material, so the WAM and sex action is pretty limited. This is a story of fiction.

Part I The Beginning

Though this is not really a story about me, I guess I had better begin by introducing myself. My name is Bill, and I work as a systems engineer for a software company – I won’t say which one, but you are probably using one of our operating systems to read this right now. Anyways, I live out near the coast, and the money I make lends itself to a pretty nice lifestyle. I’m not rich, but I have money in the bank, a budding stock collection, and enough left over to enjoy things. I mean, what the hell? I’m single, right? That’s what being young is for.

Anyways, this story is about my neighbor, Julie. She and I have the top floor apartments in a two story garden apartment. Julie is about two years younger than I (so, not quite thirty, nosy), and is just a babe; knockout hardbody on a 5’6\” frame, wavy brownish-blonde hair down to her shoulder blades, just a perfectly sculpted face, and these bubbling blue-grey eyes. As it turns out, Julie also works for my company, but in a different division, so we see each other at work only occasionally. A nice person, college educated, a career-minded young woman on her way up.

Well, so this isn’t a story about what a humanitarian she is. I got to know Julie soon after she moved in. Neither of us knew many people in the area, she was a long ways away from home, and her boyfriend was having problems adapting to a long-distance relationship. You know how it is. She and I actually met during a fire alarm; one of our downstairs neighbors burned his toast, and his kitchen drapes. I had noticed Julie when she moved in, but I hadn’t had a chance to actually talk to her, so I sidled up as we watched the fire department scurry around.

“Kind of exciting for your first week here, huh?” I asked.

“Really!” She looked at me kind of sideways. “Don’t you live there?” she asked, pointing to my living room window.

I nodded, sticking out my hand. “Bill.”

She took it, finally turning to face me. “Julie.” Here we were in the middle of the night, me in some old sweats and a pair of raggy shoes, her in cut-off shorts and a stupid “GUESS!” t-shirt, hair mussed, no makeup, looking none-the-less perfect. Her breasts stood high, and she clearly was not wearing a bra. I tore myself from the view to catch her watching me watch her, and blushed.

We stood there watching the fire crew for about fifteen minutes before they agreed, almost reluctantly, that the whole building was not about to burst into flames, and we could return to our apartments. We went upstairs, and neither of us was ready to go to sleep, so we sat in her dining room, drinking beer, as we watched the firefighters pack up their equipment, and a dumb-ass local TV crew show up to do a report. We learned that we worked at the same place, but that car-pooling couldn’t be a regular thing, as she was in sales, and traveled around alot. Well, that suited me fine. I have enough senority to kick out early when the work load is light, and waiting around work for an hour or so just because I was supposed to drive someone home, even Julie, was uninteresting to me.

Look, I know how these stories are supposed to go. We get a little drunk, we start making out, we hit the sack. Sorry. It was getting late, the beers made us both sleepy, and I went home. We agreed that neither of us had good plans for Friday night, so we might as well do nothing together, and that was it.

In fact, it was the start of a really good friendship. How many of us secretly wish that we had friends like on Sienfeld or Friends, where we leave the doors open, so they can come in and out as they please? I know I did (and so did she, because we talked about it once). Well, that’s what happened. I am not saying we are funny like those people (even if they were real), or that there is anything really significant about it, but it is very nice. Julie became my drinking buddy, a few months passed, and we were regulars at the corner bar. (Is there anything better in the world than a bar you can walk to? I haven’t found it.) We had seperation, we were not dating (the boyfriend even made it up, once), but we were close, and relaxed with each other. It was a hoot.

But, there was some tension. I mean, I couldn’t likely forget about her looks, which kept haunting me late at night. I felt all sick to my stomach the weekend Rick (ugh) was up to see her, and I didn’t know why for the longest time. I mean, I have lusted after friends before (haven’t we all), but I know the difference between sexy friends and sex with friends. Julie has a killer body, and it would make for a few fun filled days to go up one side and down the other, but it wouldn’t be worth the possibility of losing her as a friend to make a proposition that she would not like. And, it was my assumption that she wouldn’t like my proposition.

But worse than that was the direction our talk had taken us. After the first few times out, it became clear that there would be no holds barred in our conversations. We talked about relationships, about sex, and about seduction. We took turns scoping the bar for each other, pointing out choice morsels for the other’s attentions. I learned alot about her; her sexual past (pretty active), her preferences (tall, muscular men – not me), what she hates (moustaches, hair on the back, bad breath). But there was stuff she left out – I mean obviously left out. But I couldn’t figure out what.

At the same time, I was editing my own contributions. I have not been too sexually active; career, insecurity, whatever. I don’t think I am bad looking; 5’8″, not fat though no muscle man, blonde hair/blue eyes, outdoorsy. But, I am not the greatest catch either, at least in looks. At any rate, my fantasy life had always been more active than my real life, and I was not about to let on that I had a fetish. Yep: WAM, all my life. I was into it long before I read the name on the web, or saw the videos. And now, I am in to it deep (pun intended). I don’t think of it as dirty, necessarily, and I don’t think of it as taboo, just something I don’t want to shout out in a crowded room. I wasn’t sure how Julie (or anyone) would take it, and I wasn’t prepared to gamble on the outcome. So I just left it alone. But it was eating at me.

So, one night we are in the bar, and on the TV there is one of those rediculous made-for-TV movies, starring the bimbo of the week, and named something like “Another Time Around the Block: The True-Life Story of Sarah Jane Betty, Child Prostitute to the Stars,” where the first thing you see is a screen telling you that the events, while based on a true-life story, was fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Crap. So, we were not-really watching, on our fourth or fifth beer, and Julie, who had figured out there was a major part of my sexual makeup missing from my stories, was once again trying to brow-beat it out of me.

“What is it, bondage?” I shook my head, and ordered another beer. “Animals?” I cringed. “Incest?” I looked horrified.

“I don’t have any sisters, and if you even are beginning to imply my mom .. . . ech!” I pretended to throw up at her feet. She grinned. “So, maybe it’s your brothers.” She smiled sweetly.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” I sat up haughtily and looked at the screen. Sarah Jane whatever was talking with some frizzed out reject who was supposed to be her boyfriend, standing near to a pool. As any true WAMmer knows, directors do not shoot scenes by pools unless they have a reason to have a pool there, or they are directing Melrose Place. I covertly turned my full attention to the television, wishing I was home with my VCR. I even wondered if there was someway I could duck out for a minute, and go home to tape this, but if something were to happen, I would never get there in time.

Julie was not to be ignored, or put off. She grabbed my shoulder, and tugged me to face her direction. “So what?” She thought for a second, then cringed. “Someone showed me these sick pictures of some guy peeing on a girl. That’s not it, right?”

“Blech!” I said, twisting back towards the TV. “Never in a million years! Look, it doesn’t matter, ok?” I took a pull of beer, and looked back up. The two people on TV were now sort of pushing and slapping each other to suggest they were being playful and carefree. Another great sign. I was getting pretty excited, just at the thought of sitting in a bar, next to someone who I thought very highly of, possibly watching a wet scene on TV.

But Julie was still persistent. “So, I think I have guessed enough. Tell me now, or I am going to start telling everyone you like to get dressed as a baby.” She looked pretty pleased with herself. The man on TV was starting to back up the woman towards the pool, a devilish look in his eye.

There was no way I was going to miss this, so I glanced at Julie, and without thinking, I said, “Listen, leave me alone for a minute, this is getting good.” I gestured towards the TV, and she looked at it for the first time. As I looked back, the guy went to give Sarah Jane the final push that would send her in, but she danced aside, and the guy went in headfirst instead, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. “Arrgh!” I thought. Another WAM cop-out by the television networks! The female was in a tight light-green party dress, cut to show a certain swelling in the bosom, and an ample amout of leg. It was not an “appropriate” outfit for the water, by the network’s standards (women who are thrown into the water can only be in oversized sweatshirts and baggy jeans – men can go in anything), which was one of the things that had captured my attention.

“I can’t believe it!” I exclaimed. Julie looked over at me quizzically, but patted my arm.

“Keep watching.” she advised. The guy on TV swam to the edge of the pool, where the woman was standing and laughing. She bent down as the guy rose up, and gave him a kiss. But then he grabbed her by the head and yanked her in. The scene went on to show them splashing around for a few seconds, and there was even a shot of her coming out of the water to sit on the side. The green fabric glisened in the lights, and her breasts and nipples poked out of the front of the dress. Her beautifully styled hair plastered to her head. It was one of the best wetlook shots I have seen on network TV, and believe me, I try to make it my business to see them all (cliptape trading is a wonderful thing). By the time they went to commercial, I was rock hard, and almost visibly panting.

Then I came back to reality. It had happened! I was at the bar, with my sexy close friend, and we had watched a WAM scene. I was almost in shock. I carefully looked over at Julie, expecting her to be glaring over at me by now, or else looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. Instead, her eyes were glued to the set! She was gripping the bar with one hand, holding very tight by the look of it, while the other hovered over the neckline of her dress, lightly touching the skin underneath her neck. And, she was breathing heavier than me.

This time, when she looked back, it was her turn to blush. She attempted to regain her composure by turning the tables on me.

“So,” she said, “you have something you’d like to share with me?”

I looked at her, stunned. “Huh?” was all I could manage.

“You said that if I left you alone for that,” she gestured towards the screen, “you would tell me what it was that you were in to.” She folded her hands, and waited expectantly. Damn her, she had regained her composure faster than me.

That wasn’t how I remembered the convesation going, but it was no use. I tried squirming out of it, but she wasn’t going to have any of that. She had locked her sights on, and was just waiting to fire. Finally, I had no choice, so I blurted it out.

“Fine, I like what was on TV there.” I pointed up. The movie was on, but of course, they had not returned to the pool.

“What exactly did you like?” she asked, still looking very innocent.

“The water stuff. You know, getting wet, like a wet t-shirt contest?” I just wanted this to be over, but Julie was really dragging it out.

“Hmm. Are you telling me that you are interested in, no, excited by seeing women get their clothes wet?” She looked at me curiously, like she was some kind of shrink discovering a new psychosis. I decided to just go for it, figuring that if she was really opposed to the whole thing, the damage was done.

“Yes,” I said, rapidly regaining my composure now that I had made a choice. “Although, sometimes it is fun to see people in whipped cream, or mud, or something else gooey and sticky.” I leaned on the bar like we were talking about who at work was getting a promotion. “And sometimes, I like it when women are wearing jeans, and sometimes when they are wearing business suits.” I fingered the sleeve of her dress, just to be obnoxious, and grinned.

“And do you ever do this yourself, or is it just a voyeurism thing?” Her right hand was still playing with her neckline, and I was starting to get fascinated by how it moved up and down. There is such a thing as too much beer, and I could tell this had spun completely out of control, and I should be worried about what Julie would think of me from now on, but all I was really paying attention to now was her hand, and her cleavage. Which was bad, because I was answering her questions like I had been hypnotised.

“Yeah, I’ve done it some times.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve taken showers with my clothes on, or swimming around in a pond, and rolling in the mud. I even took an oil bath one time.”

“And what do you think of when you are doing that?”

She really had me going now. “I think of someone being there with me, and enjoying it as much as I do.” Does the floor always move like this?

“Who do you think of doing that with you?” Her eyes bore in for the kill.

“Different people.” I suddenly got very reckless. “You.”

Julie let out this little sigh, and closed her eyes for a minute. I was sure I was dead. She opened her eyes, leaned in towards me, and murmured, “I think we had better go now, Bill.”

We paid up, and headed out of the bar without saying a word. We walked towards our apartments, up the walk, and up the stairs without saying a word. I would like to think that neither of us wanted to break the mood that we had set, but the truth was I was scared to death that she had already written me off.

At the top of the stairs, she turned to face me, her back against her door.

“Well,” she said, “you could just go on to bed . . .” Her expression said she obviously had another alternative.

“Or . . .” I prompted.

“Meet me over here in ten minutes, and wear something . . . old.” She turned around and entered into her own apartment.

Well, I am not a rocket scientist, but Mama didn’t raise any dummies, and I could see where this was heading, if not why. I scurried into my apartment, into the bedroom, and shucked off my work clothes, putting on a pair of jeans, an old long-sleeve shirt, and my mucking shoes, an old pair of sneakers, with socks. I grabbed my keys, but left my wallet, and everything else that would be damaged by water behind, and made it out the door in time to see Julie emerge from her own apartment.

Do you know any women who have different looks at different times, all of which are attractive in their own way? Julie is that type of woman. At work, she appears professional, competent, and lovely. At a company formal we went to, she was elegant and sophisticated, a completely different person than I was used to, achingly beautiful in a straight black gown with soft curls in her hair. We have gone for groceries in her around-the-house getup, a loose shirt and sweats that tug in all the right places, and played football, where she was the darling of my friends in a tight t-shirt and jeans. But, I had never seen her before like that night; tight sweater and pleated skirt, bobby socks and saddle shoes, hair in a pony tail. The complete cheerleader.

She must have seen my jaw hit the floor, and grinned triumphantly. “Not bad, huh?” she asked as she whirled around, letting me see a fair expanse of thigh. There was a button-down oxford under her sweater (which, by the way, wasn’t a real cheerleader sweater, but rather one of those pull-over knit things, in yellow), and she even had time to throw on a little makeup, not that she needs it. I leaned in close, and took a breath. Yep, she had freshened her perfume as well – Tommy Boy, and boy does it smell good on her.

“It . . . ah, looks good,” I stammered out, then halted. How do you describe a sunrise, a rainbow, or a star in the sky? Julie was all those things and more, and I had it so bad for her at that moment that I could hardly stand up straight.

“So . . .” I said.

“So.” she agreed. She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the stairs. “Come on.”

We walked out of the building, and she led me around back. Behind our apartments is a partking lot, and beyond that is a border of trees, with a little path down it. We had both gone down there before, and I knew it led to a golf course on the left, and a small inlet off of the river that runs near our community, to the right. I thought I knew where we were heading (towards the inlet), but I was wrong, as Julie set off across the golf course, still towing me behind her.

As we were walking, I decided to end some of the mystery. “So, what do you think?” I asked.

“About you?” I grunted. What else? “Well, it’s what I always thought.”

“Huh?” Now I was back to being shocked. “What do you mean?”

She giggled (very sexy). “Well, there was always certain things that you didn’t talk about, but were eager to have me talk about to you. After a while, it just became obvious.”

“Huh?” My vocabulary was not improving.

“Well, remember how I told you about babysitting, and what happened?”

Did I? Before she graduated high school, she had sitted a couple of kids for a wealthy doctor on a weekly basis. The family had a pool, and when she would show up, the kids would usually be swimming. So, one day, according to Julie, the boy told her that they couldn’t go swimming because their mother had put their swimsuits in the wash. Juile asked him why he didn’t go swimming in his shorts, and the boy replied that people couldn’t swim in their clothes. So, on a bet, Julie had dived in to the pool in her school clothes; jeans and an Izod shirt. She said the kids had been amazed. I was too; I made her go through a complete description of what she had on, and what had happened. Yes, she had left her tennis shoes on. No, she wasn’t worried about what the shirt would look like, because it was only a couple of kids. Yes, she was wearing a bra, but it wasn’t very heavy and her nipples had stuck out pretty clearly. Yes, she got out of the pool several times, and then dived back in when the kids asked for more. I must have grilled her for about twenty minutes before I was sure I had a complete mental image of the event stored away for later reference.

“Oh yeah.” I said, reluctant now to admit my interest.

“Well that was pretty obvious. And, there were other things too.”

Julie had been in a sorority at school, and the sorority had a charity car wash every year. Well, someone there had a camera, took some pictures of the event, and put together a sorority scrapbook. She had shown it to me. I had almost burst. There were Julie and eight or ten of her sorority friends, standing in a line wearing sopping t-shirts and shorts, whooping and holloring at the camera, while a group of guys looked on. Mostly, there were bathing suits and bikinis on under the wet clothes, but a couple people, Julie included, aparently had not planned on getting wet and were wearing skimpy bras, or nothing at all under the shirts (Julie had on a lace bra, and you could see all the details in the picture). There were a couple other shots from the carwash, all of which showed plenty of sorority skin, and wet outfits. I had told her that the scrapbook was wet-dream heaven, and that if she was worried about someone stealing it, I would gladly keep it under my protection, in my apartment.

So, I hadn’t been quite as discreet as I had thought. Big deal. In some ways that was better, because it meant that she had some time to get used to the idea. But, despite the fact that we were almost certainly on our way to some sort of wet or messy adventure, I still fealt a need to make her come right out an admit that she was not disturbed by my preferences. (Look, guys don’t always think rationally, ok?) Caught red-handed (or whatever), I could only grunt in acknowledgment. But she still hadn’t answered the basic question.

“OK, it makes sense. But still, what do you think?”

“You don’t know?” she asked, then made a noise as she recognized something on the golf course that she was looking for, and we headed off in a different direction.

“Well, let’s just say I want to be absolutely sure.” As we came closer (it’s dark out, remember?), I was now able to place a sight with a noise that I had begun hearing a minute ago. There, next to one of the greens, was a sprinkler set, throwing water over the grass. It was one of those automated things with two long arms holding three or four sprinkler heads each, moving along its hose slowly. The arms threw water to each side, covering an area about 20′ distant from the sprinkler. They were pretty common in the summer on this course, and we had just walked along the fairways until Julie heard the noise of this one. We stopped near the radius of the water, and she dropped my hand for the first time since taking it at the apartment building.

“I have been waiting for you to fess up about it for a while now,” she said, answering my question. She was standing near to me, and I could look in to her eyes. The half-moon gave our eyes plenty of light now that we were adjusted to it. “I don’t have any problem with it. In fact, just the opposite.” She was now running a finger along my chest, raising goosebumps whereever she touched.

“And that is what this is about?” I asked, nodding towards the sprinkler, then plucking at her clothing.

“Watch!” she whispered, and backed off from me.

She walked a few feet, and stood still, legs slightly apart, hands by her sides. The sprinkler cycled through, water hitting her calves and spraying her socks (not that I could see very well, but I knew exactly what was going on). She gave a little yip, and shivered. The sprinkler cycled again, and she gasped as the water hit her a second time.

Julie put out her hand, and beckoned me to join her. I timed it so that I could walk out when the sprinkler was somewhere else, and took her hand as I joined her. She gave me this playful look and asked, “Aren’t you going to get your jeans wet?” grinning all the while.

I grinned back at her. “Not if you keep blocking the spray.” I grabbed both of her arms so she would stay where she was. “I’ll bet I can make it all the way to the sprinkler without getting really wet.”

“Really?” she asked. “And what about me?”

“I’m afraid one of us will have to suffer.” I pushed her lightly, and she stepped a couple steps back, just as the sprinkler came through again. Despite my predictions, some of the spray was hitting me, and I could feel it now well above my knee, to the point that on her, it should just about be hitting the bottom of her skirt.

“This is a very nice outfit you have on,” I shifted topics. “Where did it come from?”

“Well, I was a cheerleader in high school,” she answered, “and we wore outfits that were similar to this. But really, I got it to tease the guys at the sorority picnics, the skirt and the saddle shoes, anyways. It got me alot of attention . . . uhgh!” she exclaimed. “The water is hitting me on my butt!”

Julie was definitely starting to breathe faster now, and I was reaching the limit of my endurance. It was one thing to think about getting her in exactly this situation, it was something totally different to actually be here. I could hear my heart pounding, I could feel the blood rushing through my ears, and I could feel every detail of the clothing I was wearing, where I was touching her, and the cool air around us, all at the same instant. Hyper-sensitive, but still wanting much much more.

Almost panting, I brought her closer to me. “Is your skirt getting wet?” I breathed, ignoring that she had just told me so.

“Yes.” she gasped, clearly as excited as I was.

“Turn around and let me see it.” I practically forced her around myself. I steadied us both, then dropped to one knee. Her exquisite ass was right in front of my face. I had actually massaged it a few times for her, and knew exactly how firm and well-defined it was. But, for the first time, I was seeing it exactly as I had in all my fantasies. The skirt on her was visibly wet, and one side clinged to her right thigh, curving to the shape of her ass cheek. The other side was still dripping water, and the point where the spray stopped was clearly visible on the dark blue fabric. I couldn’t resist running my hand down the skirt, feeling it getting wetter and wetter, until I reached her bare leg, then slid up underneath the fabric. The water had soaked through to her panties, and they clung to her skin.

I was now gasping for breath, as I dealt with the visual and tactile images before me. The sprinkler cycled again, and Julie gasped as the water hit the front of her skirt. Her hands came down and grabbed the skirt hem, lifting it up to her waist. We stayed frozen in that position until the spray came back through again, this time hitting her panties and skin directly. Julie shuddered with excitment, and my hands were shaking.

I stood up, and whirled Julie back to facing me. “So, I am not the only one with a secret, huh?” I asked her, looking into her eyes.

Her breath was coming in great gasps, moving her breasts in a most intoxicating manner. But, I was more interested in her answer.

“Yes!” she panted. “I love this. I can’t get enough.” She bucked as the water passed by again, spraying her back side. “Push me in further, please.”

I took a step towards her, but instead of pushing her on, pulled her to me and kissed her hard. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around me, pulling my head down to hers, and making little squeaking noises in the back of her throat. The water cycled through three or four times as we stood there, battling with our tongues. Finally, I broke the kiss, and shoved her backwards.

“Do you think you should get your sweater wet?” I asked her. I was feeling dizzy, almost beyond myself, like I was actually standing about five feet behind me, watching us both. “Well?” I demanded.

“No,” she replied in a very small voice.

“Will people like it if you get yourself all wet?” I asked, now really getting in to this sort of disapproving personality that I had always heard in my own mind when I was doing this on my own. Apparently, she was too.

“No they won’t. It is wrong.” She was almost completely gone now, her eyes only a quarter of the way open, her lips open and her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“So I had better not do this, then.” I whirled her around, and pushed her even farther forward, so that the oncoming spray hit her square in the chest.

That did it. She convulsed, doubling up, as a shriek issued from her mouth. She lurched forward, closer and closer to the sprinkler, until she was close enough to be constantly in the water. She stuck her head down, letting the spray hit her in the forhead, as she clutched her hands to her crotch. She shuddered again and again, crying out loud as a strong orgasm overtook her. The water matted her hair, soaked the back of her sweater, and came dripping down her front. Her butt was up in the air, the skirt half up, showing the wet panties she was wearing, and the motion of her hands down the front of them.

I had followed her in, keeping body contact with her, but not intruding on her moment. Julie was completely overcome by the situation, by my presence, but mostly by the act. While I participated, and we had kissed, I wasn’t sure how much of a shared sexual thing this was. For the moment, I was willing to wait and see what would happen next.

Finally, she gasped one last time, and stood up to face me. The sweater still his most of the details of her breasts, though as I passed my hand over them, I could feel the nipple pointing through. She was running her hands down her body, making smoothing motions over her skirt, and still trying to catch her breath.

“That was very good,” she panted, flashing a deep smile at me, as she pulled me down and kissed me again, this time, more tenderly.

“Umm,” I breathed into her mouth, as I enjoyed the kiss. This was the fantasy realization of a lifetime for me, and I savored the moment. Just to have my arms around her, kissing her seemed this afternoon an impossibility. To be standing with her on a golf course, fully dressed, immediately after she orgasmed from getting wet in her clothes was a possibility unexistant to the realms of reality.

Finally, a lifetime later, the kiss ended. She looked up at me, still leaning on my chest, and said simply, “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” I agreed. “Does this show have an encore?” She smacked me lightly with one hand.

“Can I rest first, please?” She grinned, and pushed away, heading out of the spray. Nearby was a sandtrap, and she went over and sat on the edge, her feet dangling down. “Something like that can really take it out of a girl, you know.”

I sat down next to her. “You don’t say.” I assessed myself. The water had hit me somewhat, though not directly. Still, I was damp, and the air was cool, so I could only imagine how she was feeling. I put my arm around her and pulled her close, to share our warmth.

“Hmm,” she sighed, setting her head on my shoulder. “That’s nice, Bill. Thank you for doing that with me.”

“I don’t remember doing very much.” I wasn’t planning on hinting on how I hadn’t yet got off, but these things have a way of popping out. But, Julie took it without criticism.

“Well, I liked having you here. It isn’t the same if there isn’t someone to watch.”

“Is that what you like?” I asked, intrigued.

“Uh-huh, or at least in part.” She pulled back, and looked at me, impishly. “Is that interesting to you?”

Duh. Still, was that all there was to it? “So, how did this come about?”

“Well, I have known about what I like for a long time, ok?” It most certainly was. “I think when I was twelve or so, I found that water fights were more than a little interesting to me, particularly when it was out where everyone could see.” She looked at me like she thought I might think she was a little crazy now. “I’m not sure why things turned out that way, but they did.”

“So, you like WAM, and you’re an exhibitionist?” She nodded, a bit reluctantly it seemed. “And you want to know if I am ok with that?” She nodded again, looking directly at me.

“Honey, that is so ok with me, I don’t know how to say it.”

Julie laughed. “Well, I thought so, but you can never be sure. . .” True enough. We were both definitely getting cold by now, but neither of us wanted to moment to end. We snuggled some more, though now kissing again seemed a little forward.

In fact, I wasn’t sure what would happen next. I stood up, and gave her my hand. She rose up. Apart from her hair, you really couldn’t tell that she just had a soaking. My pullover was damp, but it wasn’t really clinging to me any more. Our teeth chattering, we started to walk back towards our apartments, arm in arm.

“So . . .” I began.

“So?”

“What . . . ah, what is this?” I sort of gestured around.

“A golf course.”

“Thanks. No, I mean what we did. What happens next?”

“What do you mean?” She was being purposely obtuse. I hate it when women are obtuse. They know what we mean, usually better than we do. They just want US to tell THEM what we mean, so they can see if we have got it right. It’s like some kind of a test, for God’s sake.

“This was a once in a lifetime experience for me, and I loved every second of it,” I began, after a few moments to plan strategy. “Thank you too, for sharing this with me.” What was I after, actually? I wasn’t sure.

“Well, you’re welcome.”

“To find out that you have a similar . . . uh, interest, is very exciting for me, and I cherish the gift you have given.” OK, sometimes I lay it on pretty thick. But, since most guys are hesitant to lay it on at all, it usually works in my favor. Still, what did I want out of this? I was still unsure.

“Hmm.” She leaned in to me a little more. I took the opportunity to stop, bring her around to face me, and took her hands.

“Julie, I don’t know if this is the right thing to say, or if you will think I am moving too fast, but I want to do this again with you. Please? It doesn’t have to be a sex thing, and if you prefer, I won’t lay a hand on you, but I don’t think I could stay your friend if we didn’t do this any more, and I have to stay your friend, because you are really important to my life, so please don’t make me choose because it would kill me to think of loosing you, or loosing this, but I . . .” I sort of ran out of steam as Julie pressed her finger to my lips, hushing my stream of babble.

“We will have plenty of time to talk this over,” she said, in a very definite tone. I’ve heard that tone before. It means that she is laying down the law, and there will be no nonsense about it. “This is a part of my life, and I am not going to stop it. And you are a part of my life, and I want that to stay the same too.” I let out a sigh.

“So, can we do this again?” I asked expectantly.

“Who says we are finished now?” she shot back. That raised my eyebrows. I had assumed we were heading home. It was pretty cold, and she had already had her jollies. But, I should have known Julie better.

“Wow!” I said, as she pulled me towards the inlet.

“Babe, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

End Part 1

Mon, 14 Mar 2005 18:00:00 +0000 Messy Always Room For Jell-O

Always Room For Jello, by Messy Muddy Mike (Michael.R.Howes@CDC.NET)

This story is completely fiction. Any of the persons, places, time, portrayed in this story relating to any such in real life is 100% unintentional (See epilogue). The story contains some instances of sexual arousal. If this offends you, please do not read any further. This story is completely public domain. Feel free to distribute to all your friends.

Hey there, it’s Tanya again. I have got to tell you what happened to me the other day. I was walking through the mall, to pick up some new tights for an aerobics class I had later that day. When I got to the main concourse of the mall, there it was; a huge vat of red jell-o, with a huge pool slide set-up next to it. I had gotten messy many times since my cousin’s graduation party years ago, but it had always been in the mud. Never in anything else. Julie has suggested a few times trying something different, but we never did. Seeing all that jell-o just got the juices flowing.

I asked a woman what was going on. She indicated that a charity event was about to happen. For a donation, people got slide into the vat of 500 gallons of raspberry jell-o. Oh, I had to try this. But wait, what about my clothes? How was I going to get home? Then it came to me. My gym bag with my workout stuff was in the car. Perfect. I could just change into them when I was done.

I ran over to the registration table ( I really ran. In fact I nearly knocked an elderly woman on her but.), and paid $25 dollars, the minimum donation. The woman at the desk took my name, address, and all that stuff, asked my to sign a liability waiver, and gave me my number. #45. She said that they will call the numbers in lots of 10, so I should listen for 41 through 50. She also indicated that the local fire department would provide showers in the parking lot after I was done. I nodded, and ran back to get a good spot to watch the first person slide in.

That day I had worn a blouse, skirt, pantyhose and high heels, all in white. Things started to get under way. The first few people to slide in were kids. The jell-o was still clumpy, so the kids hardly sank into jell-O. Next were a couple to high school girls, wearing shorts and t-shirts. They sank easily into the jell-o, however little to none of the Jell-O stuck to them or their clothes. Their clothes didn’t even become stained. This was not looking good. I just kept hoping that the jell-o would melt some, so that it would be gooey, and slippery.

I watched person after person slide in . Things were going slow, mainly because to p.a. system they were using wasn’t working right, and they would have adjust it every very five minutes. This extra time gave the jell-o a chance to melt some. I was getting excited. I couldn’t wait to plunge my body into the stuff.

Finally, they called my group. They had us line up in numerical order. The woman in front of me caught my eye. She was about my age, and was not dressed like the rest of the people. All the others were jumping in wearing old jeans or shorts and t-shirts. Nothing on there feet, no socks, shoes, tights, etc. Not the woman in front of me. She was wearing a light blue leotard and powder blue tights. I stuck up a brief conversion with her. She said that this was her first time doing this, and that it had been a fantasy to doing something like this. I confided that it was the same for me.

She was next. She went up onto this small stage, gave her name, the amount of her donation, and proceeded up the steps to the top of the slide. When she got there, she just sat there for a minute, and pushed off. She slid down quite quickly, and splash! Pieces of jell-o flew in different directions. When the jell-o settled, there she was sitting chest deep in to red Jell-O. She got up on all fours, and crawled to the edge of the vat, where she was helped out. When she stepped out, her tights and leotard had turned a reddish purple color. As she walked away, little pieces of the red stuff would fall off of her. This was just to much to take.

I was next. I walked up on stage, and gave my name and donation amount, then walked towards the slide. I stopped when I got there, and started to kick off my shoes. But I changed my mind at the last minute. I carefully climbed up, and stopped, sitting at the top. Everyone in the crowd started to shout for me to go in head first, as they had done with other others. None of the others did. But I was going to be different. I pointed my head forward, and slide down. Just before I hit the jell-o I closed my eyes. I hit jell-o, and all I could hear was the squishing sound of the jell-o passing around my head. When I stopped, and I was completely submerged below the surface. I swam around the jell-o briefly.

I sat up, and shook some of the jell-o off my head, wiping my eyes. I looked down, and I saw that my blouse and bra were completely red, and fairly transparent. My nipples were as hard as rocks, and most of the people around the vat could see them poking though my blouse. I stood up, only to find out that I had lost both of my high heels. I got down on all fours, and started to look for them. Suddenly, the girl who had jumped before me, jumped back in, and helped me find them. We both looked at each other, smiled, and dove under the surface. We each swam around, looking for my shoes. We each found one. She handed me the one she found, and we stepped out of the vat. Each my shoes was filled with jell-o. I set each on the floor, careful no to spill any of the jell-o, and stepped into each one. Jell-o oozed out around my feet, making a weird squishing sound. As we walked away, I left a trail of jell-o from my shoes.

As we walked along the path towards the exit of the mall , we passed a store with a full length mirror. What a sight, two grown women covered in red jell-o, clothes sticking tightly to our slim torsos. We both just burst out laughing. As we cleaned up outside, we talked a little more. I found out her name was Janet, and that she had been dying to do this for years, but could never get up the nerve. After we hosed off, we changed, and went back to her place. I told her about the fun I had playing in the mud, and she expressed a real interest. Another convert. We promised that we would have to enjoy future experiences together.

Epilogue: This story is fiction. The idea for it came from an event that really did happen. Every year, they have a jell-o jump for the Children’s Leukemia Foundation of Michigan. The event takes place at the Universal Mall in Warren, Michigan, and usually happens in July or August. If you live in the area, check it out.

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Back to Shokolada’s Messy Stories archive

Mon, 14 Mar 2005 18:00:00 +0000 Messy Bake Shop, by SirMarhalt

Bake Shop (pies, m/f, leather)

This is the first story I ever wrote. I’m reposting it because I’m sort of out of ideas. Those of you who remember the old “Love American Style” pie fight episode may see where I got my inspiration.

None of this would have happened if my girlfriend could control her sugar tooth. Stephanie is one of those people who can pretty much eat whatever they wants and still look perfect. And I do mean perfect. Steph is a willowy brunette who moves with the grace of a dancer – even though she doesn’t dance or partake in any kind of physical activity that resembles exercise. She has big brown eyes with long lashes and a great smile. I never get tired of looking at her, even when she’s dressed casually, as she was that day in a dark brown leather jacket and tight blue jeans over cowboy boots. She was wearing her long brown hair swept up in back and had her sunglasses perched on top like women do when they’re more interested in making a fashion statement than seeing clearly.

It was a cool fall afternoon and we had been driving around town running errands when Steph decided we would have coconut cream pie for dessert that evening.

“Oh, great,” I grumbled. “Remind me to run 5 miles instead of 3 tomorrow morning.”

“If you stop whining maybe we can engage in some other form of calorie-burning activity this evening so you won’t have to run at all,” Steph said with a smile.

“Hmmm, coconut cream pie is starting sound pretty good all of the sudden.”

“Well, hurry up then, the bakery closes early on Saturdays,” Steph commanded.

We got to our (Steph’s) favorite bakery 15 minutes before it was supposed to close and we were the only customers in the store. The girl behind the counter was completely absorbed in a phone conversation and totally ignored us for a long time. I’ve become quite used to the poor service that is pretty common everywhere these days but it just drives Steph nuts. She paced back and forth while the girl prattled on about her latest visit to the hairdresser.

“Wait ’till you see my hair, Carol, I look great! It cost me a hundred dollars but it was worth every penny…”

Despite my impatience I couldn’t agree more. She was your basic college age beauty with big blue eyes and long blond hair that was tousled and coifed to perfection. She was standing behind the counter in profile to me so that I could fully appreciate how her well tanned body barely fit unto her white bakery uniform. I put my elbows on the counter, sighed theatrically, and stared at her. I knew this would get Steph’s attention and sure enough I immediately felt a rough tap on my shoulder.

I turned and saw Steph holding one of the cream pies that was sitting on the counter. “Do you really want to piss me off in a room full of pies?” she said with mock anger.

“Yikes,” I responded quickly. “EXCUSE ME miss, would you mind waiting on us now?” I said in a loud voice.

“Gotta go Carol. See you at the club tonight. What can I do for you sir?” she said in a slightly too friendly tone.

“We’d like a …” Steph began.

“I’ll get to you in a minute,” the girl interrupted as I winced and stepped back.

“If you hadn’t been on the phone when we came in you would have noticed we’re together,” snapped Steph.

At that moment the door opened and beautiful, richly dressed woman came striding in quickly. She wore an unfastened black leather jacket over a white silk blouse, a tight black leather skirt that went to her knees, and expensive-looking black leather gloves. Her shoulder length thick black hair, high cheekbones, and lovely olive/tan complexion suggested Italian or Spanish heritage. She looked like she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue magazine.

“Hello, my name is Jennifer Bonnaro and I’m here to pick up my sister’s birthday cake.”

“It’s right here, Ms. Bonnaro,” the girl responded as she bent down under the counter. She put a large cake with thick white frosting on the counter.

“Excuse me, but you were waiting on us,” snarled Steph.

Jennifer looked at us like she had just noticed us and said, “I hope you don’t mind but I’m in a terrible hurry.”

“We do mind, and we’re in a hurry too!” snapped Steph.

Jennifer rolled her eyes and motioned for the girl to wait on us.

“We’ll have a deep dish coconut cream pie,” said Steph. “Make sure you put lots of coconut sprinkles on top.”

“If we have any coconut cream pies left they’re in the back,” the girl said indifferently. “Why don’t you just take one of the banana cream pies here on the counter?”

“Why don’t you kiss my …” Steph began.

“Would you mind looking back there for one?” I interrupted in as friendly a tone as I could manage.

The girl shrugged, gave Steph a dirty look and went into the back room.

“Remind me to call and complain about this on Monday…” Steph said as I suddenly noticed the aroma of cigar smoke. I turned and looked at Jennifer. She took a puff from a long thin cigar and regarded us both with amusement.

“Don’t you see that NO SMOKING sign?” I asked.

She walked up and stood right in front of me. Just as I was beginning to enjoy the smell of her perfume she took a deep drag and slowly blew a large cloud of smoke into my face. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t see it with all the smoke in here.”

“That looks like a nice cigar. How much did you pay for it?” I asked.

“I don’t know, ten dollars, maybe,” she said indifferently.

I pulled a ten dollar bill out of my wallet and handed it to her. Then I snatched the cigar out of her hand and extinguished it in one of the pies sitting on the counter.

“I guess we’ll have to buy one of these banana cream pies now,” I said to an open mouthed Steph.

Jennifer pulled another cigar out of her purse, lit it, and looked at me reflectively. Then she walked over to the counter and picked up a pie. Using the gloved hand with the cigar she held it up in the air like a waitress and walked back over to me. As she slowly pushed the pie into my face and twisted it back and forth she said, “I guess I’ll have to buy one too.”

I stood with my head tilted back slightly so the pie and crust stayed on my face and I listened to my girlfriend laughing hysterically. She seemed to be enjoying my humiliation so much that I held that pose while I considered how to respond. I decided to have a sense of humor about the whole thing and let these women have a good laugh at my expense. I can never stay mad at Steph very long and Jennifer was so drop dead gorgeous that I found myself wanting to please her too. The pie consisted of a layer of very thick whipped cream and a deep layer of banana pudding with the consistency of a mousse. I just let it stick to my face and stood there with my hands behind my back looking like a fool while Steph laughed on. Jennifer didn’t make a sound but I could sense she was still standing in front of me. Finally, I wiped just enough pie out of my eyes so that I could see and then let the crust slide slowly down my face and on to my shirt and jacket. I opened my eyes to see Jennifer’s sensuous red lips just inches from mine. She slowly blew a stream of cigar smoke into my face and said, “So what do you like better, pie in the face or smoke in the face?”

Steph walked over and picked up a pie and said, “Nobody does that to my boyfriend,” she said as she glared at Jennifer, “except me.” Then she pushed the pie into my face.

Once again, I stood there with my head tilted back, letting the pie stick to my face while I listened to them laughing at me. Then I heard Steph say something that made me start to lose my sense of humor.

“Hey, could I bum a cigar off of you? I’ve never tried one before.”

Steph will sneak the occasional cigarette but only when she thinks I don’t notice. She knows it pisses me off. I wiped the pie off my face just in time to see Jennifer give Steph a light.

The girl emerged from the back room saying, “Well, you’re in luck – I found a coconut cream pie back there. Here’s a box of sprinkles – put as many on as you… ” she stopped when she saw me. “Hey what’s going on?” she said with a giggle.

I ignored her and picked up a pie. “This is for lighting that cigar!” I huffed.

“Not so fast, sweetie. You hit me with that pie and you can forget about having sex for a long, long time!” said Steph.

Her tone was convincing enough to stop me just before I let her have it. I held the pie in front of me and looked at the two of them. Steph took a defiant puff on her cigar and stared straight ahead. Jennifer looked at me with amusement as she stood with one hand on her hip and the other holding her cigar up by her face like a fashion model. I knew what I had to do.

“I never answered your question Ms. Bonnaro. I actually prefer pie in the face much more than smoke.”

With that I pushed the pie into my face and slowly twisted it back and forth. I held it there while I listened to all three women laughing at me. I let the pie slide down my face and looked at them.

Jennifer said, “Wherever did you find such a cute, well-trained male? What’s his name?”

“Wade. He was easy to train,” laughed Steph as she slowly drew her finger across my face and tasted it.

Jennifer said, “You know, Wade, you have no one to blame but yourself for this gooey mess you’ve become. I bet you’d like cigars much more than pie if you gave them a fair chance. Here, try one.” With that she stuck her cigar between my lips.

Big mistake.

“You know Jennifer, I bet you’d like pastry much more than cigars if you gave it a fair chance.” As I spoke I walked around behind her and put my hands on her shoulders. I gently turned her around and pushed her face deeply into the cake sitting on the counter. I slowly rocked her head back and forth, carefully making sure she got plenty of icing in her thick black hair.

I have to give her credit. I expected her to quickly emerge from the cake and scratch my eyes out. Instead, she showed that she had a sense of humor too. She kept her face stuck down in the cake with frosting up to her ears while she listened to all of us laugh at her. Finally, she carefully placed her hands on the counter and slowly extracted her face out of the cake. Her face looked like it had been plastered with a thick layer of white paste. None of her features were visible. She stood there for a moment with her head held high while the frosting dripped all over her leather jacket and silk blouse. She carefully wiped the frosting out of each eye, taking care to use only one finger so as to keep her gloves as clean as possible. She looked at Steph.

“Would you mind getting a cigar out of my purse?”

Steph laughingly complied. She placed the cigar between Jennifer

Tina’s Birthday Sur-Pies

— by Anonymous —

Tina awoke the morning of her 18th birthday, and she thought of the cheerleader practice scheduled for later in the day. Her friends on the squad were nice, she thought, but some of them seemed jealous of Tina. She was the prettiest of the cheerleaders, with a perfectly proportioned body, not skinny and not fat, an angelic face with adorable pouty lips and clear, cool blue eyes, and a head of soft honey blonde hair that extended nearly to her waist, which she usually wore in a ponytail. Tina’s real trouble was, she knew just how pretty she was. She was a prima donna, and in her heart, she knew it. She was beginning to realize that it was her own attitude that kept her from finding the kind of boyfriend she wanted. She had her pick of the football heroes, but they bored her.

Tina did her makeup and her nails, and wondered what awaited her at the end of the school day. She had heard vague rumours about a secret tradition among the senior cheerleader squad, but as she was the first in her squad to turn 18, she had never actually experienced it. Still, how bad could it be? This was a fairly straitlaced little high school, nothing really crazy ever happened there.

Resolving to take the day as it came, she donned her red cheerleader sweater and white pleated skirt over her white panties and bra and white stockings. Bright red boots completed the ensemble. She glanced at the mirror, but it told the same old story. Perfect, as usual. All the money Daddy spent at the orthodontist showed as Tina smiled at herself in the mirror. “It’s just hard to be humble when you’re this gorgeous”, she said laughingly.

School came and went, and the mischevious twinkle in some of her pretty friend’s eyes as they wished her “happy birthday” made her a bit wary, but she resolved to stop worrying. “I’m a good sport, and anyway, if they do something to me, I’ll get ’em back when it’s their birthday.”

Cheerleader practice began, and Tina went through the routines with her friends, all the while wondering what they had in store. They were trying to be nonchalant, but Tina was still suspicious. Then, practice was over.

“Gather ’round, ladies!” said Veronica, the head cheerleader. “It’s Tina’s 18th birthday, and we have something special for her!” Veronica beckoned toward the girls’ locker room door, and the girls all headed for it, with Tina behind. As Tina passed through the door, her world went white for an instant, and then black. She couldn’t breathe for a moment, and she was confused and panicky until she tasted the lemon cream pie filling. A pie in the face! The shock and embarrassment paralyzed Tina. The girls began singing Happy Birthday, and with each verse they took turns smashing cream and mousse pies of every variety in her stunned face. Then, as the song ended, Veronica spoke up again.

“Girls”, I think Tina’s still a bit too clean!” “Uh huh!” came the reply, and Tina’s best friend Sue grabbed a large cream pie from the seemingly endless supply on several card tables. “You’ll just love this, Tina” she said, and Tina was too shocked to protest, or even move.

Sue lifted Tina’s pleated white skirt, pulled the elastic waistband of Tina’s panties forward, and slid the coconut cream pie into the top of Tina’s white panties. She then smushed the pie between Tina’s thighs. Tina sighed as the sweet creamy goo mushed all over her private parts. Tina felt so humiliated, but oh, so good at the same time. Before she could regain her composure, pretty red-haired Jenny lifted the back of her skirt, and slid another coconut cream pie down the back of her panties, and pressed firmly. More cream squeezed into Tina’s tender folds, as she felt the first stirrings of impending orgasm.

“Oh, look girls! Tina’s getting hot!” short, sweet Sarah squealed, and it was true. Tina’s face reddened under its coating of creamy goo. Sarah yanked Tina’s sweater out from her skirt, and with her other hand she thrust a chocolate mousse pie under the sweater and smushed it into Tina’s frilly white bra. Sarah grabbed another pie, and as one hand pulled Tina’s messy bra away from her breasts, squished the pie into Tina’s cleavage with the other. Tina couldn’t believe how exquisite the cream felt on her nipples. While Sarah was massaging the pie filling into Tina’s breasts, blonde green eyed Donna grabbed two lemon cream pies and stood behind Tina. Donna then smeared one pie over Tina’s long, straight, silky blonde hair, and followed with the other pie. She bent the pies into a C shape as she slid them down Tina’s pretty ponytail, so as to coat it completely with mess. By this time, Sarah had applied two more pies under Tina’s sweater, and Jenny readied another pie for the back of Tina’s panties. The pie squashed into Tina’s butt, but she had no chance to react, as Sue was ready with a chocolate cream pie for the front of Tina’s panties. Tall, slender Alyssa stood ready with a chocolate cream and a coconut cream pie, and she plastered both in quick succession into Tina’s reddening face.

“Don’t you think Tina’s a bit overdressed?” said Veronica, her green eyes flashing as she laughed. The squad quickly agreed. At once, soft feminine hands with prettily painted nails were slipping Tina’s thoroughly messed up cheerleader uniform off of her quivering body. Tina stood in her bra, panties, and white stay-up stockings, totally humiliated and degraded, and yet enjoying every second. Next, Veronica stood facing Tina, and she gazed into Tina’s blue eyes teasingly, yet almost lovingly, and she unhooked Tina’s bra, and slowly peeled it off of Tina’s sticky breasts. The rest of the squad paused in their laughter when they saw how lovely Tina’s breasts were. “Now, your panties come off” said Veronica. Tina gasped softly and tried to protest, bu the words caught in her throat. She felt her panties slide down her legs, and she enjoyed the liberating feeling of nakedness, along with her helpless embarrassment.

Each of the squad took a cream pie in each hand, and with a colossal SPLUSH the pies were thrust into every square inch of Tina’s body. She stood, the prettiest dessert creation ever, with cream and goo of every color of the rainbow stuck to her body. The orgasm finally came, wracking her body. Her giggling tormenters were struck silent at the intensity of Tina’s reaction. Few of them could remember ever having had such intense pleasure. Each could hardly wait for her own birthday celebration.

Veronica took the lagest and thickest pie, which she had saved, and placed it on a chair. “Here, Tina, sit down. You look beat!” Tina, having no dignity left to lose, and actually looking forward to the sensation, sat down hard on the pie, and squirmed around, feeling the cream press into every nook and cranny. She had never ever been so humiliated, but at the same time, she had never felt so alive.

Her birthday sur-pies was complete, or so she thought.

Tina’s Birthday Sur-Pies Part II – Love among the pastry

Tony walked down the corridor in the school’s athletic complex, holding a piece of paper, and scratching his head. The note simply said “Be at the cheerleader’s practice area at 4:10 PM sharp. You won’t be sorry!”

“Cheerleaders?” he wondered. What could they possibly want with him? Tony was afraid it would be some “geek party” or something similar, but his curiosity outweighed his fears. That pretty girl Tina was a cheerleader, he knew, but he knew that stuck-up prissy prima donna couldn’t possibly be interested in him. She was always being asked out by those football players, and Tony was sure she was going out with one or another of him.

Tina. Yes, she was stuck-up, (or as the British would say, “Toffee-nosed”. Tony chuckled, thinking of the Pythonesque image that phrase suggested) but she sure was pretty. “I’ll bet she’s really a nice girl, deep down,” he mused, “But she’s one of those girls who’s absolutely gorgeous, and knows it.”

Despite all this, Tony was attracted to Tina, and he often spent hours fantasizing about her. “Oh well,” he thought, “Whatever this is, it’ll break up a boring day.”

He turned the corner and arrived at the door to the cheerleader’s practice room. He began to knock at the door, but it swung open. Veronica spotted him from the locker room entrance and, holding a finger to her lips, she beckoned Tony toward the locker room. Now Tony was really confused. What could possibly be in store for him in the cheerleader’s locker room? And what was that white stuff on Veronica’s hands that also seemed to be splattered on her legs?

The sight that greeted Tony when he arrived at the entrance to the locker room literally sent him reeling. He staggered back and leaned against a wall for support. It took him several seconds to regain his breath, but his pulse rate maintained its breakneck pace.

It was Tina. The girl he secretly admired was sitting on a chair in the center of the room, absolutely saturated and inundated with whipped cream and cream pie filling of every description. She was so messed up, it was a wonder he recognized her at all, but he did. Perhaps it was a sixth sense, but he instantly recognized her without a doubt.

“Here’s your birthday present, Tina!” said Veronica, with a smirk. Veronica had seen Tony’s eyes follow Tina’s body many times throughout the school year, but she thought of Tony as a hopeless nerd.

Tina blinked the cream away from her eyes, and stared at Tony. If she thought she couldn’t be more humiliated, she knew differently now. There she was, naked save for a pair of red cheerleader boots and white stay-up stockings, and covered with pies, and still feeling the orgasm that only moments before had wracked her body. “T-t-tony?” she finally gasped. “Tina! you, you’re naked!” “Oh my God!”

Veronica’s cruelty was too much for the rest of the cheerleading squad, and they filed out of the room, eyes downcast. Veronca savored the humiliating scene she had orchestrated for a moment, and then left, saying “I’ll just let you two get acquainted, ok?”

Tina and Tony stared at each other for a long while, both speechless. Finally, Tony regained his senses enough to grab a towel and offer it to Tina. “No, I… I don’t need it. Come here” Tina said, surprising herself. Before her absolute humiliation, she wouldn’t have given a nerdy guy like Tony the time of day, but her personality was changing by the moment. She had always admired Tony’s intelligence, in an odd way, and she now realized that she was attracted to him, even though he was rather fat and didn’t have a fancy new car.

“Tina, I… I don’t know what to say. You look so beautiful with all that cream all over you!” He caught himself, wondering what had made him blurt that out. It was true, though. He had never stopped to think, before, about why he got vaguely turned on watching a pie fight in a funny movie, while everybody else just laughed. He did own a copy of The Great Race, but it was because of the cool cars in that movie, or so he thought.

“I do? Well, I don’t know why I’m saying this to you, but it feels great all over me. Would you… would you think I was weird if I asked for a hug?” Tina said, and Tony opened his arms, finally realizing that rational thought was becoming useless in this utterly fantastic situation. He held Tina’s gooey body in his arms, oblivious to the mess she was making of his white shirt and pocket protector. She looked up at him, and her eyes closed and her lips parted. He bowed his head and kissed her. They stood for quite a while, lips smacking against lips, and then Tony felt a moist probing. This almost caused Tony’s knees to give way once more. She was slipping him her tongue! The most beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed ponytailed cheerleader in the whole school was slipping him the tongue! “Oh, no! What should I do?” thought Tony, frantically. “Enjoy it, dummy!” came an unknown voice in his head.

They kissed for quite a while longer, and finally stopped to catch their breath. Tina, all inhibitions gone by this point, said “Your clothes are getting all messed up. Here, let me undo your shirt.” Tony was beyond resisting at this point, and obediently allowed Tina to remove his shirt. She immediately began undoing his pants, and he didn’t protest. Soon they were both naked. One of the folding tables stood nearby, and it still held several cream pies left over from the barrage. Tina walked over and grabbed one. “You’re going to find out what this feels like!” said Tina, as playfulness overtook her embarrassment. “But…” Tony tried to say, but the first pie was thrust firmly in his face with a twist.

Before he could react, a cool, creamy smooth mousse pie was thrust directly into his manhood. Tina squished the pie around, and felt his rock-hardness in her hand. This was fun! She grabbed another pie, and treated him to a second helping. She then stuffed a lemon cream pie into his butt, as he stood, stunned. This was almost more arousing than seeing Tina covered with pie, he thought. He found himself asking Tina for some more pie. She obliged, with two more to his face, one over the top of his head, one in his crotch, and one more in his butt. “Now me!” she said. Tony grabbed two large pies, and mushed them simultaneously in Tina’s face, sandwiching it between them. Grabbing two more, he thrust them into Tina’s ample breasts, slowly twisting and squishing them, enjoying the firmness of her bosom. Taking two more pies, he squashed them into her crotch and butt, forming a cream bikini bottom. She grabbed another pie, and placed it on the chair. “You first”, she said, and Tony sat down on it. He could barely believe how good it felt. Tina then placed another pie face-up on his lap. She sat on his lap, and he felt the pie filling squish out from under her and all over his erection. She put her arms around Tony’s head, and pushed his face into her creamy breasts.

“This must be what heaven is like!” thought Tony. His adventure wasn’t over, though, by a long stretch.