Dear Hayley...

 

 

Wow! The new site has got you thinking up stories for me already (goody!). This one comes from a regular e-mailer who calls himself Messypockets (you'll soon see why!) and features a lot of my faves (satin suits, filled boots and gallons of mess). I hope you enjoy reading it as much I as did!

 

 

Hi Hayley

 

You are tired after a long day working on the new SPLOSH! website. and you've come to my special restaurant for a bit of splosher's therapy. You're wearing a navy blue satin suit (jacket and pencil skirt( white silky blouse, stockings and high heeled, knee-high boots. You sit down and order the ‘Splosher's Delight‘.

 

First I bring out a bottle of white wine. I pour a bit into your glass to taste. It's good. You place the glass back on the table. While you still hold it, I begin to pour the wine. Soon the glass fills and overflows. I then pour wine over your hand, over your sleeve and up your arm. Then gently holding open the back of your collar I pour wine down your back. While you enjoy the wine I ask you to stand and hold open your skirt. I pour the melting ice bucket inside.

 

After the wet ice is poured down inside your skirt, and after you have a moment to relish the experience, I ask you to hold open the left pocket of your jacket. This you do. Into the wonderfully soft satin lining I pour tinned pears and tinned peaches. The fruit flops into your pocket, sliding and slipping. The pocket bulges magnificently and the fruit juice seeps slowly through the lining, dripping out of the bottom of your jacket onto your boots. I do the same to your right jacket pocket. Then I add thick pouring cream. I drizzle it all over the fruit inside until the pocket is full of fruit and cream. It all looks amazing, all nestled in your pockets. Then I ask you to mash up the contents into a pulp. The fruit and cream slurps and squeegees about, some over flowing and running down the outside of your jacket to splatter on the toes of your boots.

 

While you are having fun in your pockets, I place a large gooey, chocolate gateau on your seat. I ask you to sit. Slowly you lower yourself down, your jacket pockets hanging heavy at your side. You wriggle your bottom as you come into contact with the gateau, almost as if you're teasing it. Then you put your full weight back and sink down into the cake which spurts out across the floor.

 

As you wriggle in your seat I hold open the top of your boot and pour some custard inside. I do the same to the other boot. Both boots soon fill and custard is cascading over them, spreading out over the floor. Still wriggling in the gateau I upturn a trifle over your head. The trifle spills over your head and jacket, landing with a satisfying splat in your lap.

 

Time for champagne. You hold open your jacket and trust out your bust. I shake the bottle vigorously and spray your blouse. Soon it is soaked, transparent and very clingy. As you enjoy the sensation of the champagne I gently hold open the collar of your jacket at the back. I pour melted ice cream inside. First chocolate , then strawberry, then vanilla and finally cookies and cream flavour.

 

Asking you to stand, I take a huge floppy paint brush and I paint you all over with custard. I slap custard all over you bottom and up the back of your jacket. I paint inside your jacket and apply liberal amounts of custard to your breasts. The rest of you is soon covered and the excess custard, of which there is quite a lot, is poured into you jacket pockets. They overflow and custard runs down your legs.

 

You sit back down. I place your briefcase on your lap. I open it and pour in a huge trifle. You look inside and I slap the brief case shut. Trifle splatters into your face.

 

Next I get you to bend over the table in front and to stick your bum in the air. I begin to spank you with pies. First a strawberry cheesecake. WHAP!! Now a Banoffee pie, SPLOOSH!! A lemon meringue pie, SPLATT!! A chocolate gateau, SHULUMFF!! Then a good old fashioned custard pie attack, SPLATT!! SPLISH!! SPLOSH!! SQUELCH!! Too few pies, I need more pies. A dolly with a trolley enters. The trolley is pack with pies. I start splatting pie after pie into you bottom with wild abandon - WHAM BAM SLAM SLISH SPLASH SPLOSH!!!! You turn over so we can do the same to the front of your skirt…

 

Then a final pie in the face.

 

While you catch your breath buckets of custard are brought in. As you stand there I chuck the custard all over you. Over your head, at your bottom, up your skirt, down your skirt, at your boots, at your breasts, and more in your pockets. Soon you are dripping from head to toe with custard.

 

Finally I take you through to a back room and push you into a huge, body sized custard and cream pie. I leave you there to wriggle and slide around. A nice relaxing evening...

 

After sometime you emerge.

 

“How would you like to pay Madame?” I ask…..

 

THE END

 

A bit short and sweet (very sweet!), but I wanted to get one to you as soon as possible.

 

Last night I had a SPLOSH! dream. I think it must have been because of the story writing. WAM ideas floating in my head....

 

I get an invite to the opening of the SPLOSH! Studios. I put on my best Dockers pants and head off. I turn up expecting hundreds of people to be there but it seems I've been lured there under false pretences. You greet me and before I can return the greeting you've dragged me inside, into the main studio.

 

You stand there in black trousers, hands thrust deep in slanted hip pockets, white blouse, big black kipper tie and black ankle boots. Around the out side of the room are tables crammed with food.

 

“Its been ages since we've e-mailed," you say. “So I thought we should make up for lost time.”

 

I'm speechless.

 

“Oh," you continue. “ I've got some of your friends in to help. Come on out. girls.”

 

I am overjoyed to see Helen, Kath and Yvonne enter the studio. They are all dressed the same as you.

 

“What do you want to do first?” You ask.

 

“Get her, girls!” I shout.

 

I sit back and watch as my three friends pie you all over, throw buckets of custard over you and stuff gooey cakes in your pockets.

 

After that the four of you huddle together conspiratorially. Then you approach, hands full of cake. You start to fill your pockets in a very provocative way. You stuff food into each others' pockets and squidge inside. I am so hard at this point that I think my trousers are going to burst.

 

Then you invite me to fuck your pockets. As we writhe on the floor the other throw food at us as well as each other. Soon it a frenzy of food fighting and pocket fucking. Soon I'm shagging every ones pockets. Then swapping clothes with you, I'm fucking my own pockets.

 

All in all a jolly good time was had by all.

 

Messypockets xxx

 

Hmmmm...now that's what I can a wet dream! But no guy should have to fuck his own pockets, not when my satin lining is all squishy and waiting!