Part V
(Hi guys. Me again with my little editorial comment which I've put here after I finished writing this Part. Well, as I warned in my post in this forum above this one, this story, in Part V, is now going to take a pretty filthy and disgusting turn. Just to warn those of you up front who are possibly bothered by it. Of course, if you've stuck with my story this far, that probably isn't a problem for you.
I'm pretty sure I only have one last Part to tell in this story. And there's a reason why I know, of course, why there's only one Part, even though I haven't written it yet, because except for Part II, which I explained in the editorial section there why it wasn't 100% accurate, all the other Parts of this story have been EXACTLY how they happened. So I already know how this story ends. I hope you continue to enjoy it. And "karnut" a/k/a Bob's Freudian analysis of the crazy little squirrels running around in my head will never prove more accurate than in this Part of my story. Weeelllll, maybe until you see Part VI, that is! Tee-hee.
Smooch and luvs yas all! Christina)
Christina quickly assessed the situation around her as she sipped a little more of her giant gin and tonic which was still more than half-full. Booty shorts stuck to Christina's mid-thigh, almost her entire body from the waist down was pretty much covered in a nice dark chocolate glaze, except for a handful of tiny bare spots on the right side of her thigh and the rear of both her calves. From the waist up, however, there were only a few tiny streams of chocolate down her stomach.
To this stage of the evening’s activities, Christina had pretty much followed the pattern of wamming she had used in the past, with roughly the anticipated results. Her first orgasm almost always came within the first five bottles of syrup. Of course, tonight’s results were a little extraordinary. Orgasming before the first two bottles were done, with quite possibly the most powerful cum in her life. Unquestionably, the most powerful by far without being substantially more submerged in mess.
And the second orgasm within the first dozen bottles was also a little quick to arrive. But that only meant there was more of the nasty stuff left than usual to fuel the subsequent orgasms to come.
As in her prior wammings of this type, Christina, however, had not scripted anything for the remainder of this session past this point. She preferred to go with her instincts and her emotions once she had filled her undies or skimpy clothing sufficiently to bring on her second cum of any session.
“I know I want more of that gloppy mass of chocolate syrup down my shorts again as I feel it convert to a liquid against my warm skin,” Christina decided silently to herself. “Plus, I need to decide what I want to do with my bra,” her thought process continued.
Certainly, the syrup would be a good choice, transitioning from solid to inky black goo sliding down between her tits, would feel delightful. But the previously hypnotic effect of the brownie batter was beginning to entrance Christina once again.
It just sat there in the huge mixing bowl, looking like something murky, swampy, muddy, unstable, living creature with a mind of it's own. Christina began thinking it was inviting her, no, daring her to enter.
As a result of her riveted staring at the massive blob of goo, Christina had made another strange observation about the mixture. A thousand tiny bubbles had percolated to the very top layer of the brownie mix. Those bubbles absolutely weren't there when she mixed the batter up with the electric beater probably over an hour ago by now. Maybe the incredible increase in humidity that had developed in the bathroom since Christina's wamming session started tonight had some effect on the consistency of the portion of the batter that met the air at the very top of the bowl.
Christina instinctively knew, however, that whatever she would decide to do, that she was only moments away from making very good use of the contents of that bowl. But first, it was necessary for her crotch and ass to return to the status of being completely encased in the thick, gooey syrup.
Pulling her booty shorts back up was far more exciting than what she had felt just a few moments ago when she violently yanked them down. Then, she was in the throws of a rapidly approaching deep, nasty orgasm. Christina took absolutely no mental note then of how it felt on her skin to have the spandex-polyester fabric slide seductively down her body.
But now, Christina had nothing else to distract her from enjoying the very lush experience she felt by guiding her shorts back over her butt and cunt. She wanted to take a little time and enjoy it.
“Ooohhhh,” Christina audibly reacted when she first moved the fabric up her thighs. It had unravelled slightly on the short trip up her legs, and Christina immediately recognized that the chocolate syrup that had soaked into the short’s fabric had cooled a bit after so many moments away from her body. The cooler crotch section of the shorts had just reach the edge of her labia which caused the audible reaction Christina had just verbalized.
Christina realized she was beginning to take a walk down the very twisted, very masochistic, very dirty path of the inner workings of her darker self. Realizing this, Christina decided at that precise moment the theme she would pursue for the rest of the evening’s sploshing. She committed herself to fully embrace that desire to reach the ultimate depths of her perversions.
As experienced a splosher as Christina was, despite the lapse in time since her last opportunity, she immediately knew the component parts of the formula she required to create the kind of environment in which she could best explore these darkest areas of her sexuality.
The first part of the formula starts with the little teasing steps she must do to herself to make her torture last as long as she could possibly bear it. And the circumstances around her were currently perfectly in place to make such a long slow torture a reality. Christina’s eyes transfixed on the deep pool of batter in the bowl immediately below her.
Christina began putting her mind in such a state, that she truly believed that the brownie batter in the bowl was calling to her, inviting her to become one with it. To bond with it. And Christina made the conscious decision that very moment that she would unequivocally bond with the disgustingly thick brownie batter and become one with it.
The second part of the formula was to do what was necessary to help artificially alter her current level of perception, so that she really could morph into a world where she felt compelled to become one with the filth that was calling out to her.
Christina had rested her large mug of gin and tonic on the soap dish jutting out of the wall to her right. It was time to get seriously wasted.
Christina was glad to see that the mug was still a little more than half full with liquor. She had originally filled it with a far greater proportion of Tanqueray than one uses in mixing a typical gin and tonic. And she did it for this very obvious reason. There would come some point during this evening’s festivities that it would do Christina a world of good to remove any lingering inhibitions that might exist in her brain.
So now came a very slow and long gulp of the tart liquid that remained in the mug. In one swallow, Christina consumed at least half of what was left. It would be several seconds before that collection of consumed alcohol would have any true effect on her. But Christina was already exiting the universe that exists for most “normal” people on this planet. In her alternate reality, Christina truly convinced herself to believe that the Tangueray she just drank had already taken hold of her. The pool of brownie batter’s call to her was getting louder and more demanding.
Christina returned her drink to the soap dish below. She was swaying slightly side to side, partly out of her believed spiraling downward toward total inebriation, and partly because the chocolate syrup that was lining the bottom floor of the bathtub was beginning to play havoc with Christina’s footing.
Before she had dropped her shorts just prior to her second cumming, the majority of the syrup that had escaped through the bottom hem of her shorts had exited from her left leg. The reason for this was obvious. Since she was right-handed, that was the hand she most frequently used to pour the syrup over her cunt, meaning her left hand was doing most of the masturbation. That was until it was time for Christina to finger-fuck herself, when her right-hand dominant side took over because that was her most coordinated hand and would be the hand to most effectively plow her cunt to orgasm.
So until moments before her second orgasm, it was her left stocking that was predominantly drenched in slippery chocolate syrup, and her right stocking that was far more untouched. Hence, Christina had used her drier, unaffected right foot to anchor her in the tub while she was standing and filling her shorts with the nasty black sauce. The fact that the solid wall of the shower was also to the right further made this the logical foot to use as the anchor.
But since she pulled her shorts down, both legs were completely drenched. Both stockings soaked in chocolate. And the silkened soles of both feet had very little friction left with the tub floor. This made standing significantly more precarious, and added to the illusion, at least in Christina’s head, that she was quickly losing all touch with the reality of her everyday existence.
And, as most inebriants do (at least those who truly are), Christina began talking to herself but in the third person. “Hmmmm, you need to get those sexy little shorts back up your dirty little pussy and ass, girlfriend.”
Christina began sliding them back up to their proper location quite slowly, acting all drunky-sexy. “Ooooooh, that feels so nasty. You are such a dirty little cunt.” Sloshed or not, the movement of the shorts back to where they belong was awfully sexy. She even gave them an extra strong tug. A wedgie up her ass and pussy of syrup-drenched spandex was the perfect symbol of just the naughty little bitch she had become.
What followed was an elaborate dance into self-perversion. Either dumping clumps of solidified syrup, or pouring in the ones that were liquid. Not all the bottles, not yet, but enough to return her crotch and ass to that very nasty relationship between the syrup and the spandex. And all the while regularly getting further and further along toward emptying the mug containing the booze and getting further and further in saying the nastiest possible things to herself.
The time was rapidly approaching when Christina had to decide what part of her would first submit to the brownie mix would be. In reality, it took virtually no time at all to decide, for there really was only one choice for the disgusting slut she had turned into.
Christina got on her hands and knees immediately above the large mixing bowl. The shifting back of Christina’s trunk and the stretching of her back and butt, tugged the rear of her shorts even further up her ass, driving a huge wad of that thick, greasy, oily tar-like sundae syrup deeper into her cunt.
Christina began hyperventilating again, and there was no hope of stopping it this time. She was almost panting like a dog in her drunken stupor. Her breathing was getting louder, shorter, quicker. Christina knew she wanted this and wanted it more than just about any sexual experience in her life to this date. The only effect this self-imposed delay had on her was to simply elevate every sensory receptor in her body, amped up several levels by adrenaline, by her gin-soaked synapses, and by just sheer plain fucking lust.
“C’mon, you motherfucking whore, slut. You digustingly dirty little cunt. DO IT NOW!” she screamed aloud. No more waiting. Christina plunged her face as deep as she could into the bowl.
Split-seconds before her nose and chin first crossed the boundary into the dark netherworld of full penetration, it dawned on Christina that she had never used any kind of cake batter that had been whipped by a beater. It had always been spoon-stirred. And this batter had been beater-whipped for half-an-hour.
In that nanosecond prior to entry, a question formed in the deepest, darkest corner of her brain. “Oh my god, Just how is this ever going to fucking feel?” The answer would turn out to be far better than she could have ever imagined.
Christina’s head hit the contents of the mixing bowl not with a “splat,” as if she had just been hit by a cream pie. It was more like a nearly silent “whoooooo.” The batter had simply absorbed her head, consumed it, and then embraced it fully.
The moment she felt her face penetrate the upper layer of the matter, Christina immediately knew three things. One, she was going to hold her breath and stay under as long as she possibly could. And that was because of number two – she had never experienced anything like this ever before and needed every second available to analyze what she felt on this first visit to beater-whipped batter. And that was also because of number three – this was the greatest fucking thing she’d ever felt in her life.
The first aspect she noticed once she was completely submerged was that absolutely nothing splashed up when she hit the mess, an experience she never felt before, and Christina had certainly dipped her head into a number of different things in her life. There were times during her college years playing mud volleyball that she would repeatedly wind up submerging her head completely into the mud pit. That was closest she could compare this to, but even that wasn’t too perfect an analogy.
This brownie batter was silky, perfectly smooth, and as dense a substance as she had ever been in. The mud in the volleyball pits in college, even at the start of the day, before all the water was pumped in to hose off the people at the end of each match, was never this solid and absolutely never this smooth.
Christina was nearing the breath-holding capacity of her lungs. She started to back out of the bowl, but discovered both a pleasant and unpleasant surprise. The batter did not want to release her face. Christina loved the sense that this wam was practically glued to her face, but she did encounter a moment of sheer panic.
She lifted both hands off the bathtub floor and grabbed each side of the mixing bowl. Pushing down quite forcibly and lifting her head as hard as she could, there was an enormous sucking sound as Christina literally lifted about one-fifth of the batter out of the bowl as she extracted her head.
And this batter went absolutely nowhere. It had to be the heaviest mudpack in the history of human civilization. No dripping, no sliding in globs down her face. Nothing!
As Christina caught her breath, and she had better because she was probably close to passing out, she was finally able to wrap her brain about the effect being this filthy was having on her sex drive. Until now there had been so much confusion, so many new sensations, so many fears, Christina had momentarily forgotten why she did this in the first place. THE SEX! She made sure not to forget any longer.
Christina needed to get back under immediately, because she was getting incredibly turned on by all of this. Returning her hands, palm down to the bathtub floor, Christina drove her face back into the bowl.
This time she reached in with her right hand and swept a large handful of the mix over her head, attempting to fully cover her hair. This simply added a dreadfully heavy amount of the cement-like substance to Christina’s head.
All of the excitement and exertion in carrying that much weight around on her head meant this stay in submersion was a short one. A disappointingly short one. Still, the feel of the suction created by the wam’s unwillingness to let Christina escape was having a miraculous effect on the waterworks operating inside her cunt.
With her face now lifted out of the grasping, clawing brownie batter, Christina felt compelled to check on what was going on down there. She slid her right hand down into her shorts, and received a wonderful jolt of electricity up her central nervous system. It almost felt like some had turned her electrical switch on.
Christina wondered for a moment if the intense sexual feelings had always been there but ignored by her brain momentarily, because it temporarily had more important things to worry about, like if Christina might drown in about 6 or 7 inches deep of brownie cement.
Whatever the sequence of events, it made absolutely no difference right now. Christina was determined to orgasm with her face submerged in the smoothest, thickest substance she had ever experienced.
Back in Christina went, this time keeping her right hand on her cunt. And then she discovered another amazing trick. She began rocking her head forward and back and side to side, which generated an enormous amount of pleasure as parts of her face and head emerged to safety while others in turn had to suffer the punishment of submersion.
But there was even a greater benefit to this discovery. She found a way she could continue breathing and yet never have to fully remove her head, if she didn’t want to. Nevertheless, Christina did at one point or another pull her head out as she wandered closer and closer to her third orgasm of the night, because the sensation of having all that thick morass clinging to her hair and face while being assaulted and hardened slightly by the open air, just built on her need to feed her thirst for degradation and humiliation.
But Christina knew that her greatest humiliation and degradation would be to cum with her head buried in the bowl, like a little piggy running her snout into the mud while being fucked by her boar from behind. And that was her next move.
One more time back down into the bowl until orgasm was reached. In some shocking unexpected moment of clear thinking, and where the fuck did that come from and why now, she kind of laughed to herself, “Boy, I wonder what Joe would think if he took me up on my offer and decided to walk in right now. You know what? He probably just shake his head and think, ‘And I should be fucking surprised by this?’”
The little laugh, however, introduced another fascinating aspect to this portion of her wam play. She could blow mud bubbles through the brownie cement when her mouth was at least partly submerged. Christina couldn’t understand completely why but even this got her hornier. Maybe it was the childishness of it.
Whatever the reason, the combination of effects – face literally buried in this sweet, intense and most degrading of substances, her ass waiving high up in the air, still dripping in chocolate sundae syrup, which continued to drive the bottom hem further up her ass, and the deliciously wicked feeling of having her right hand reach under her body, inside the front of her shorts and both finger-fucking and masturbating herself simultaneously, was probably her greatest messy sex experience of her lifetime, at least until now.
Christina knew now that the orgasm coming her way was going to be very close to the first one she had earlier tonight. The same sensation, the same mental experience of surfing the crest of a wave, building up higher and ever higher, her muscles spasming, exquisitely more noticeable due her incredibly awkward position. But just as the human instinct of self-preservation can sometime override the most amazing of sexual pleasures, the reverse can sometimes be true.
And that reverse was completely true at this moment. Christina understood that her body would be all aching tomorrow from this semi-gymnastic move she was currently executing. But her mounting orgasm completely blocked those painful feelings out. All Christina wanted to do was cum.
“Oh fuck it, will you come already?” Christina yelled to herself through the mud-like mess. “Stay focused, girlfriend,” she said to herself. “Don’t get anxious, it will come.”
Then Christina took a gamble that she could pull something off without completely losing her balance. She lifted her left hand off the bathroom tub floor, relying on her face driving into the bowl of brownie mix as her only contact with the tub’s floor and her only means of maintaining her equilibrium, and began using her left hand to smear the batter forcefully into her face and hair. She knew she wouldn’t have long to hold this position, but it was probably worth the risk.
And this time, Christina made the correct choice. The feeling of her hand assaulting her face by smearing the mud into her head, all over her head, brought her back to her playful days of college, when her mud volleyball teammates would gang up on her and smear her all over in mud. Reliving that memory of ecstacy was all she needed.
There was nothing intelligible to be understood what was emitting out of Christina’s mouth now. Just the most guttural of sounds. Grunting noises as she convulsed violently once more. Her orgasmic spasms completely upset her balance and her body slid flat down onto the bathtub floor, her face sliding out of the brownie batter bowl. The right side of her head sank about half an-inch into the mass of chocolate syrup that had pooled together on the floor.
And then that sensation of diving face first into the totally different viscosity of the chocolate syrup sent Christina off into a second round of intense cumming. She was half-laughing, half-crying, she was cumming so hard. And the laughing and the crying was also in celebration because this was Christina’s first multiple orgasm since she last wammed over four years ago.
She just felt so fucking dirty, face down in the wet syrup, mixing the syrup in with the cement brownie mask on her face.
Once again, Christina had no sense how long she lie there as one orgasmic bowl of quivering jelly. All she knew was that after several minutes, she finally allowed herself to extract the three fingers out of her cunt. They had stopped thrusting long ago, but she was completely incapable of making the movement necessary to pull them out til now.
Christina lie face down in the tub for what seemed like an eternity. She wasn’t completely sure whether she could go on any more tonight or, if she could, when.
Finally, she realized there was something rather hard leaning against her left side. It wasn’t hurting her, and she was still too exhausted to get up and see what it was. She moved her left arm down from where it had never moved from the position of rubbing the brownie cement on her face and hair, and felt the item fully tip over and thud onto the bathtub floor.
Christina finally found the energy to turn over onto her right side, causing her to slide around slightly in all the slippery gunk filling up the bottom of the tub. She started laughing hard. Even though her eyes were too cemented shut by all the gunk on her face, she figured out the mystery of what was the object next to her. It was the pitcher of brownie batter. And its top was still sealed in place. Not a drop had fallen out.
Christina’s truly sick, sick, demented mind and dirty, completely perverted sense of humor simply could not get out its own way. She actually looked in the direction of the pitcher, even though she could not see, and spoke directly to the it in a bit of a snotty manner. “Now what are we going to do with you, young man?” Christina was just about to figure that one out for herself.
