The Writing Was On The....Fridge!

[Squelch]

Hope some of you like this one...



‘SWIMSUIT’ and ‘RICEPUDDING.’ The moment I read those words on the fridge door I wanted to jumble up the letters, pretend I’d never read them. But I couldn’t. I just stood there, checking them over and over again. In that instant, I felt like our little game had gone too far. But then, inexplicably, an overwhelming, almost sickly sensation of anticipation gripped me.

Paul and I had only bought the magnetic alphabet letters as a game for our six-year-old twin nephews. Great fun it was too. We had plenty of ‘CAT’, ‘DOG’, ‘AUNTY JULIE’ and ‘BATMAN’. But then, we kind of adapted it a bit.

‘I’m going to leave a few interesting words on the fridge tonight’ Paul said. ‘Just be ready for me getting back yeah?’

‘WEAR’ ‘SOMETHING’ ‘WHITE’ said the fridge. I guessed what he wanted. When he came home I was waiting in the warm bedroom in my wedding lingerie, night lights flickering and dancing around the walls. The sex was crazy hot. A week later I left him: ‘10PM’ ‘SHOWER.’ That evening we had the slipperiest, soapiest fuck ever.

But ‘SWIMSUIT’ and ‘RICEPUDDING’? That seemed borderline, even for broadminded adults. I had just picked up my two young nephews from school that evening for my older sister, so I called them:-

‘Boys!...boys!....have either of you been in the kitchen…..?’

I just hoped they hadn’t seen the fridge. But they were gone. Spiderman or something had started on the telly.

I sat down with a strong coffee. After dropping off my nephews back at sister’s house, I headed for the supermarket. I’d make sure Paul got a ‘Hiya honey I’m home!’ moment he would never forget.

‘Upstairs! In the bathroom’ I called when I heard the front door closing. He came straight up to see me, pushed open the door…and froze. I’m not sure who got the biggest surprise. For me, it was the toe-tingling shock of tipping half a pound of supermarket-shelf-cold rice pudding between my cleavage and feeling it slide into the crotch of my one piece. But that was nothing though compared to the expression on his face. Before he could scrape his eyeballs off the floor I picked another can from the side of the bath, pulled open the front of my swimsuit again, gave him a good flash of creamy boobs and poured the contents inside.

‘Want a go?’ I purred.

I held out another can of pudding for him, turned around and wiggled my red spandex covered bottom at him. I felt a single finger tug at the low-cut of the costume and pull it away from my back. Then a cold wet dollop of slop hit my skin and slid down between my bum cheeks. He stood back, empty can in hand.

‘Wow! Blown away! C…can I just have a minute’ he said, and he was gone. In the mirror I could see the costume fabric darkening around my crotch and a funny little bulge had appeared where there wasn’t one before. A single trail of cream tickled its way down the inside of my left thigh.

Thank God. I could hear him laughing downstairs. Then he was back, just in his underpants this time, with a jar in his hand. His demeanour had changed completely.

‘You…are just the kinkiest bastard ever!’ I blurted. ‘But for one minute there, you seemed …’

‘Like I knew nothing about it?’ he interrupted.

‘Well…’

He started laughing.

‘Always like to keep you on your toes Julie. And anyway, does it look like I don’t like the idea?’

I glanced down at his pants.

‘Guess not…Mr Ambrosia-big-boy’

‘Hey! Don’t get all cocky with me Mrs creamy-crotch. And anyway, you forgot a vital ingredient.’

‘You set the ingredients Mr Pudding Balls….rice pudding and swimsuit.’

‘Yeah….but whoever heard of serving rice pudding without…strawberry jam!’

He whipped the big jar of jam out from behind his back.

‘Jam my arse!’

‘Can I? Can I? Can I jam it now please?’

He was giggling, moving towards the bath. Boy, I was enjoying this.

‘And what did the staff think when you pulled up at the checkout with your trolley full of this…?’ he asked, pointing to the rows of opened tins of rice pudding neatly lined up along the bath shelf.

‘Told them the truth didn’t I. Told them my kinky husband was going to smother me in it and fuck the daylights out of me. Impressed they were!’

And then he did. Starting with enough rice pudding to feed a works canteen he filled the poor swimsuit until it couldn’t take any more. Bulging in all the wrong places, its contents began splattering onto the shiny plastic bath floor, helped by indiscreet hands smooshing the lycra between my legs.

‘Why don’t you take a seat?’ he said. It was mock politeness.

I wiggled my bottom down for him and with my hands taking my weight on the side panels I sunk those final few inches into the bath. He heard my little squeal. A little squeak of pleasure as a pound of rice pudding compressed into the tight space between bum hole and pussy and squeezed into places it had no right to be.

‘Tell me you didn’t enjoy that?’ he teased.

I just sat there, slowly rocking my hips. His question didn’t need an answer.

A rice pudding shampoo was next on his ‘to-do’ list. I could have looked down when those first two cans of pudding were held above my head. I could have looked away. But I didn’t. Getting that face-full felt so deliciously wicked, rude and unladylike that I begged him for more. Through cream-glazed eyes I glimpsed him in the mirror across the room, standing over me, poised to pour again. With another face-full, my sight was gone. A relentless shower began, broken by the occasional clank of empty cans tossed in the direction of the bin bag in the corner of the room.

Utterly covered, his slim fingers began working the cold pudding through my hair, into my ears and nostrils and round my neck. I kept my eyes closed. Thick gooey handfulls were smeared over my shoulders, down my arms and under my armpits. Then he laid me on my back in the slop and raised each leg in turn, lovingly smoothing rice pudding across every square inch of flesh. Or so it felt. Even between my toes.

‘You should take a look’ he said.

‘At what?’

‘Sit up and look’

I slid upright. The low mirror on the left revealed all. Aside from the slightly blurry vision and milky complexion it was the hair which stood out. Shoulder length locks now resembled a Mohican! A cream-and-rice-pudding-stiff Mohican. It felt strangely humiliating to have had that done to me and not realise it.

‘Kinky bastard!’ It was my stock response for the evening.

And then he got in the bath with me. It wasn’t designed for two. The romance of the ‘Cleopatra-like’ pudding bath was over. I sat up and faced him and we exchanged handfuls of goo. I really wanted to give him the same treatment he had given me, but there wasn’t room. And anyway, there was no rice pudding left to pour. We were sitting in it! Next time, if there was ever going to be a next time for this kind of thing, it would be different.

He leaned forward, stuck his hands into my swimsuit and fished out my tits. I recoiled, creamy breasts jiggling outside the stretched costume.

‘Hey! Manners to be asked please!’

But I could see from his glazed expression and pant-bursting erection that he was almost past the pleasantries. No cock sucking or cunnilingus tonight!

He took me kneeling down, bottom up, back arched and face pressed into three inches of rice pudding by the plughole. I imagined how the authors of ‘Joy of Sex’ might have included a chapter on this. Just as he pulled aside the gusset of the swimsuit to plug me I stopped him.

‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’

I raised my head and our glances across the room picked out the big jar of strawberry jam looking lonely by the door.

‘Ahhh…yes!’

He climbed out, dripping rice pudding over the tiles and grabbed the jar.

‘What was it you said earlier?’ He was teasing again. ‘What was it? I can’t hear you.’

‘Jam my arse…please!’

‘That’s better.’

Back in the bath he pulled, half tore, the costume over to the side of my bum, nudging his dick end between my pussy and bumhole as he struggled to remove the jar lid with slippery hands. Strangely, the jam felt warm spread over my bottom. He couldn’t resist chucking some at the back of my head. It smelled sweet.

‘Look!’

I turned my head. He proudly had his cock buried to the hilt in the jam pot. I stuck my face back in the pudding sump as he prized open my cunt with his strawberry flavoured bell-end. One shove and he was home…..



.............................................................................

Two nights later, back in the real world, I was on school duty again. As I made tea, I watched Josh playing with the magnets on the fridge. I glanced away, looked back and he was putting the finishing touches to ‘MEATBALLS’. Next to it was the word ‘SHINPADS’.

‘Ohh…that’s wonderful Joshy’ I cooed. ‘What are those words for?’

‘Well.’ he began innocently. ‘This week Mrs Jones has asked us to practice words for something we had for dinner and a word for something we did in games.’

‘All week?’ I replied. Would Josh be able to see the colour draining from his auntie’s face?

‘Yes.’ Nephew and aunty stared at each other.

‘Joshy…that’s absolutely marvellous.’ More silence. ‘Remember Wednesday’s words?’

He nodded.

‘Well’…..a sudden lump in my throat threatened to choke me, ‘‘RICEPUDDING’ is actually two words right. And Joshy…boys don’t wear ‘SWIMSUITS’, they wear trunks. Okay?’

He nodded again.

‘Thanks Aunty Julie’. And off he went.

I picked the phone off the hook, and began dialling Paul’s mobile. I’d been had…big time! How had I not seen through his initial surprise? Maybe, subconsciously, I hadn’t wanted to? My finger hung over the last digit but I pressed cancel and put the phone back on the cradle. I needed another strong coffee now. My mind spun its way to a conclusion. I would sleep on it. Maybe there was a bit more mileage in this game just yet.

[PleasePieMeMistress]

Great stuff Squelch Loved it.

[OZwammer]

Great story you have combinded my two fave things swimwear and WAM