Okay, sorry for the minor delay, here's the conclusion to the story. Thanks to everyone who left comments...
PART 7 - THE NEW TEAM
The next day Chloe arrived a little earlier for work than usual, around six.
There were a few cleaners there and rock music could be heard at a gentle volume, but otherwise the place felt empty. Chloe walked past and knocked on the manager's door.
His office was filthy with discarded paper and liquor stains, and there were pinups of messed up women all over the walls, but Chloe had been used to the decor for a long time. Now the room felt almost homely to her.
The manager grinned at her as she sat down. "Ahh Chloe. Been expecting you. How'd the excursion go?"
"Pretty good," said Chloe. She'd been debating with herself how much she should tell the manager, partly because she now felt a little embarrassed by her role in the affair, partly because her story might lead the manager to assume too much about Audrey's willingness to perform.
In the end she'd decided to just stick to the bare facts. "I put the proposal to her yesterday, and after she'd asked a few questions she agreed to a trial performance. I asked her if she'd be ready as early as next Saturday, and she said yes."
"Excellent," said the manager, nodding. "Will she need a rehearsal before then, with me or some of the girls?"
"I don't know," said Chloe. "We talked a little about that, and she said she'd prefer to improvise a routine. If it was too practiced it wouldn't look right and she wouldn't enjoy it."
"Right, right," said the manager, still nodding.
"Also," said Chloe, "she has two friends."
The manager stopped nodding. His brow furrowed. "Two friends? What do you mean 'two friends'? Two friends who are willing to perform as well?"
Chloe nodded.
Now a grin was creeping back into the manager's expression. "So how'd you find out about the two friends? Did you ask, or did she tell you, or-"
Chloe swallowed. "They were there when I floated the proposal," she said.
"I'm sure they were," said the manager. "I'm sure they were." The manager leaned back in his chair. "Care to tell me the story in a little more detail?"
"I'd rather not," said Chloe, and she just knew her face was red. "It's private."
"No worries," said the manager. He leant forward and started shuffling through the papers on his desk. There wasn't anything important on them, it was just a habit he had when he was doing 'real work'. "So, we need some kind of act for three newcomers. Do you wanna be a part of it?"
Chloe nodded quickly. "They'd probably feel lost on stage without some experienced girls to guide them."
"Okay. I think I know what we should do. The Great Debate - remember that format?"
Chloe nodded again.
"Our three newcomers on one team, three of the regulars on the opposing team, and you can moderate."
"Sounds fine," said Chloe.
"All right, the rest of the details are up to you. Pick three girls for the opposing team and let me know by the end of the night, okay? Thanks."
That hadn't been as painful as she'd imagined, although the leer on the manager's face had been a little hard to take. Chloe didn't want to know what he imagined, although she consoled herself with the thought that it probably wasn't as outrageous as what had actually happened.
She walked back out across the stage, through the wings on the right, and down a set of stairs into a low-ceilinged, smoky room. This was the girls' lounge, the room they used when on break or otherwise unoccupied. There were two tables in the centre of the room and fabric benches all around the walls. The lighting was dim and red. There was even a small minibar in one corner, although it usually only stocked vodka and beer.
Chloe felt like a drink, and having arrived this early she'd expected the lounge to be empty, but to her surprise there were three girls already here. They were seated at one of the tables, drinks in hand, chatting about some party they'd been at a few nights back.
Sam, Alice and Marie. They'd all been working here about two or three months and while Chloe'd never really socialized with them, they'd always been friendly and open with her.
They were good performers, too. Chloe made a quick decision.
Sam was the first to notice her. "Oh, hi Chloe. Early to work for you too, huh?"
"Had to see the manager," said Chloe. She crossed to the minibar and got a beer from the fridge. "And it may concern you, actually. Care to hear a proposition?"
The three girls looked at each other. "Sure," said Marie.
Chloe popped the top off her beer and sat down opposite them. "We were gonna run the Great Debate format a week from now. I thought you three might like to make up a team."
"Great Debate...?" said Marie, puzzled, but Sam and Alice were nodding. "Sure, I remember that one," said Sam. "What's the occasion? The manager doesn't usually like to tie up seven girls in the one act."
"We've got three newcomers who'll be here Saturday, and he thought this'd be a good first act for their debut."
This was news to all of them. "Three new girls?" said Alice. "Nobody said anything to us about new hires."
"They weren't hired the usual way," said Chloe. "One of them's that woman who showed up a few days back, the one we all thought was a journalist."
She watched them react to this news. Sam's eyes went wide; Alice laughed; Marie smirked and nodded knowingly. "I thought she looked a little too comfortable being messy that night. Knew she'd had practice."
"Well, not quite," said Chloe.
"So what was she doing there that night?" continued Marie. "I mean, that was the weirdest session I've ever done."
"And what's your role in all this?" said Sam. "Okay, so you ended up in the custard with her, but why's the manager getting you to pick teams and come in early for meetings?"
"Who are the other two newcomers?" said Alice.
Chloe took a long swig of beer. Just tell them, she thought. Unburden yourself, and tell them. "You're all asking the same question. What happened was, that night after she left the stage and I got her cleaned up, the manager tried to hire her. She begged off, but he managed to get an address from her. He called her a couple of times but she brushed him off. So he thought I might have more luck."
"He sent you out there to hire this woman," said Sam.
"Yeah. And when I got there... when I got there..." Chloe took another swig of beer, and reluctantly told them what had happened to her the day she set foot in Audrey's house. She expected the derisive laughter to begin at any moment.
They did WHAT? And you GOT OFF ON IT??
But this didn't happen. The others listened respectfully, and as her tale got more and more outrageous, their eyes began to widen. Chloe fancied one or two mouths were hanging open. And their apparent interest in the story gave her confidence. Her voice, which had been soft and halting, became more confident, and she began to go into more detail on her story, describing the events from moment to moment.
The other three sat still, faces rapt, occasionally making small gasps of astonishment. They weren't judging her. They were honestly involved in the story. And there was something different about their posture, too, their bodies more open and welcoming. Audrey felt like she was being invited into their circle.
Finally Audrey finished the tale, unable to quite believe she'd been discussing strap-on dildos, double penetration and group sex in a vat of chocolate with this three semi-strangers. Ten minutes ago she'd have been mortified, but with all that off her chest she now felt euphoric. There was an idiot grin on her face she could do nothing to hide.
The others were also smiling.
"Wow," said Sam.
"That really happened? I mean, I'm not saying you made that all up but... that really happened?" said Marie.
"It happened," sighed Chloe. In a way, talking about the experience with these three had almost been as good as actually doing it. She rubbed her legs together.
"They sound like a group of hardcore fetishists," said Alice wonderingly.
"Audrey might be," said Chloe, "although she seemed normal enough to me, and I got the impression she hasn't been doing this long. It was definitely Michelle and Donna's first time."
"First time, huh," said Marie wistfully. She looked at her friends. "You guys remember your first time outside work?" They both nodded.
Chloe wasn't sure she was hearing things correctly. "Wait... Guys - you get messy outside work? What, for pleasure?"
Now they looked at her in surprise. "Well, of course!" said Sam.
"You're a one to talk," said Alice.
"It's just..." said Chloe. "I thought I was the only one here who had an interest in messy play. I was feeling rather lonely about it, to tell you the truth."
"Well, sounds like we've got some stories to tell you!" said Marie. "I'm guessing, but I reckon you weren't into messy play when you first joined here, right?"
Chloe nodded.
"Us neither. Sam was probably the first of us to get turned on by mess. Sam, you wanna take over?"
"Sure," said Sam. "I reckon it started with a customer I had about three weeks after I joined..."
===
I was on the floor waitressing when a young man asked for a private room. Now I've been here for a bit, and I'm already used to the outlandish fantasies our customers wanted us to enact. But this guy had simple tastes. He wanted us both nude, and then I'd rub butter all over his body, and he'd rub butter all over mine, and we'd fuck. Pretty simple fantasy. He probably could have gone to a regular brothel and gotten the same service.
So we get in the room and I take his clothes off, and start rubbing the butter into him. He was pretty well built and he kept on making noises of appreciation as I rubbed him over, so I was starting to get into it. I started giving him a handjob, and with the lubrication between us it was no effort at all. Then he took over.
You're always a bit nervous when it's a customer making the moves on you... you're always expecting him to start some kinky shit he hadn't mentioned before, or even try and overpower you. I was at ease with this guy though. He was gentle. His hands weren't clumsy so I just stood there while he took my uniform off. Then he took the butter in his hands and started on my body. His hands felt like gloves of silk gliding over my skin. I lay back passively and let him tell me what to do. He'd tell me to roll over and I did. Then he told me to draw my legs up and he rubbed butter into my ass. He told me to sit up.
As he rubbed the butter into my pussy I felt hot and wet. I looked into his face, then glanced down at his erection. I felt like a john. It wasn't bad.
So we were both covered in butter and my ass was sliding around on the plastic bed sheets and at last I drew him to me and we fucked. He just seemed in plain missionary position, so I pulled him inside me and wrapped my legs around his and our bodies pushed against each other. I think I came earlier than I ever had before.
He came a couple minutes later. And he seemed to think that was it, but I'd enjoyed the experience so much I actually offered to let him fuck me in the ass at no extra charge. He went for that and I sat on his lap and bounced up and down, our bodies squelching together, me squealing and gasping.
Even that wasn't enough for me, so before he blew I got off him, lay down on the bed, and got him to titfuck me. He was leaning over me thrusting back and forth, and I pressed my buttery breasts together, letting them glide over his penis. He ejaculated over my chin and throat, and since I think he was expecting it I ran a finger through the buttery semen and licked it. Frankly the odor was so thick at this point I couldn't even taste it.
We stopped there and I think he was pretty happy with the service he got. Never seen him back here though.
The next day I couldn't stop thinking about the encounter. My boyfriend was at work and I was home alone. I knew I'd enjoyed that fuck differently to any fuck I'd had before. After a while I started to think that working here was affecting me. Maybe it wasn't the guy that had turned me on... maybe it was the butter.
There was one way to test this theory. I went to the pantry. I came out with a bottle of vegetable oil and went up to the bathroom.
I didn't know what was going to happen. I was just wearing a white t-shirt, leggings, and panties. I thought about stripping off, but none of them were very good. I got in the bath and sat down. Then I started pouring oil into my lap.
It leaked through my leggings, and onto my panties. I pressed one hand into my groin and rubbed the leggings around. They were pale pink and starting to turn transparent; I could see the lacy outline of my black panties underneath. And they felt different. Softer, more pliable in my skin. The fabric glided smoothly over my skin and I could feel oil trickling its way down my legs. I poured more in and the leggings went more transparent. They were tightening around my legs. I kept pouring and by now my black panties stood out so clearly I may as well not have been wearing anything.
Now I wanted to see the effect on my shirt, so I started pouring oil onto my shoulders. It felt cool and smooth as it seeped through the fabric and ran down my skin, but it didn't seem to be having much effect on the shirt. I poured more oil over my breasts and rubbed my hand over the liquid. Now I could feel the fabric getting heavier, clinging to my breasts. My nipples were two red fuzzy dots underneath my shirt.
The smoothness of my hands on my skin, and the heaviness of the clothes hanging off my body, were turning me on by now. I worked over the remainder of the shirt, making sure it was all wet and oily. Then I stood up in the bath and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked messy, bedraggled, and very sexy. The sight made me want to take care of myself immediately, so I lay down in the bath, knees in the air, legs spread, and pushed my hand into my panties. As I masturbated I poured oil onto my belly and let it run down over my hand. Thin trickles of oil ran down my sides and dripped from my shirt. Finally the oil ran out, and with my free hand I pulled my leggings down, ripping them down the middle.
When the orgasm came it must have lasted a minute. When I was done my panties were in shreds.
I lay there for another five minutes, then I remembered the time. It was four o'clock now, so my boyfriend would be back in three hours. There was a lot to do before then, and I got busy.
When he got back I remember I didn't say a word, just took him up to our bedroom and showed him the plastic lining I'd put down, the clothes I'd picked out, and the two gallon-sized bottles of vegetable oil.
He gave me this look - what, you're bringing your work home now?. But he was game. He left his bag at the door and together we undressed. I was excited because I knew what was coming, and my mood started to rub off on him. He didn't know what was coming, but this was something new, and therefore exciting. By the time we were both naked he was already hard.
The clothes I'd picked out were all old and tatty, and also about a size too small. For him I'd found an old, torn pair of black denim shorts and a yellow short sleeved shirt. For myself I'd chosen an old white shirt I hadn't worn in five years and a pair of silk undershorts.
I dressed first, my boyfriend watching closely, then he did the same. I told him to lie back on the bed, and picked up the first bottle of oil.
From that point it was like the previous night, only we were using oil instead of butter, and we kept our clothes on. I don't know why: maybe it seemed kinkier that way. Anyway, I poured the oil all over him, and got his shirt all wet and see through and it stuck to his chest. His shorts were tougher and took a lot of oil to soak them thoroughly. When I pressed my hand against his crotch his cock felt larger than ever. He got me tug the zipper open and I poured some more oil inside and stroked him for a bit. My other hand I put underneath his back and slipped inside his shorts, cradling his buttocks. He was wet all over and I already had a few stains on my shirt.
Suddenly he reached up, grabbed my arms, slipped out from under me and threw me down on the bed. My back splatted in a pool of oil. He knelt above me dripping oil, took the remaining oil and poured it over my front. I followed the path of the oil with my hands, rubbing and touching. The shirt got even tighter on my skin and my breasts stood out sharply. I pulled open the top two buttons of my shirt, and sat up so he could pour more oil down my front. Then he got me to turn around and did my back.
My undershorts felt like they were disintegrating in the oil. I spread my legs and he felt my pussy through the fabric. Then he pulled the crotch to one side, and stuck two fingers in. He poured the last of the oil out over his hand and pumped in and out.
Now we were both ready, and I turned around and opened my legs. He was going to enter me from the top but I pushed him back and straddled him. As he pumped me I took the second bottle of oil and began pouring it over myself. I let it run out much faster than before, so it was like a waterfall of oil running down my front, cascading from my breasts and raining on his chest and groin. He was groaning and shuddering and pumping faster. My breasts had jiggled themselves free of my shirt.
I wanted even more intensity. The bottle was still half full, and I took it in both hands, raised it as high as I could, and poured it over my head.
Immediately I gasped loudly. It felt like a warm shower. I held the bottle steady, gasping with each breath, and let the oil pour down over me.
We came together.
===
"So we both agreed this had been a good experience," said Sam. "The cleanup was a real problem though, so much oil had ended up leaking through my plastic sheeting that I had to get professional carpet cleaners in. We found a good solution for that, though."
"What was that?" said Chloe.
"We come here instead," said Sam, grinning.
That answer was so far from what Chloe had expected that she didn't hear it at first. "What... you come here? I mean, your boyfriend comes here? I never knew that!"
"I've tried to keep it quiet - didn't want the manager finding out. Apart from Marie and Alice here, you're the only one who knows. We don't do it that often. After all, I'm not actually charging him for the time."
"It's a pretty sweet setup," said Alice.
For a moment nobody spoke. None of the other employees had shown up while Sam had told her story, and the atmosphere was incredibly close. Chloe felt like she could ask anything of these three women.
"So what about you?" she asked Alice. "Your first time, I mean."
"My first time? Yeah, okay," said Alice. "It's a pretty funny story really. Remember the photo shoot?"
"Oh, yes," said Chloe. She saw the other two nodding and knew just what they meant. Management were very picky about the photos of their girls showing them not just posing, but messy and posing. So the first task she'd had when joining the Messy Club was to do a messy photo shoot, and they'd print up the best pictures. For Chloe, and practically everyone else, it was the first exposure they'd ever had to getting messy. The photographers they used tried to make the experience as painless as possible, offering suggestions on what to try and taking things slowly, but it was still a confusing and stressful couple of hours for Chloe. She felt uncomfortable in the mess and was sure all the photos of her would look absolutely terrible. It was quite a surprise when they showed her a few snaps the next day and she saw she looked, if not glamorous, at least sexy.
"Well, I'd gotten it into my head that I'd do my own photo shoot. At first the manager tried to talk me out of it, said it'd be much easier on me in a studio, all expenses taken care of, a very creative photographic team etc. I stuck to my guns and said I wanted to do an outdoors shoot because I'd look at my best in the sun. He agreed after that, although I reckon he'd probably already quietly penciled me in for a shoot the day after..."
===
The plan was to go to a secluded park, find a nice sunny piece of grass, set a camera on a tripod, and just have some fun with food. The manager had shown me a few photo shoots before I left, so I had a fairly decent idea what was required. The camera and tripod I had on loan from a student friend. For food I packed a hamper with anything that looked messy enough. That just left the wardrobe. This was for a strip club, so I couldn't really wear jeans or anything practical. I eventually went with miniskirt, shirt with plunging neckline, stockings, lingerie... you know, the usual.
So I'd wanted to do the shoot that day, to have something to show the manager when I showed up that night for my first shift. It was getting on in the afternoon by now, and it was a little chilly even though there was still plenty of sun. I threw everything in the car and drove to the park.
The park I'd had in mind was out of the city, included a number of walking trails, and also it was a workday and it was off-season. So there shouldn't have been many people there. When I pulled into the carpark I saw two or three cars there, but I figured I'd find somewhere private and it wouldn't be a problem. Now I'm getting out of the car, and suddenly realizing that high heels might be fine for my costume but they're not exactly practical for lugging heavy loads around. I ended up pulling them off my feet and walking there barefoot, camera bag over one shoulder, heavy as hell hamper in both hands.
I didn't really know where I was going but after a while I found a quiet patch of lawn. It sloped gently down to a creek, and there were trees on all sides. I couldn't see any walking tracks so I put everything down and set up the tripod. It went on the lower end of the slope, so that even if I got down on the ground I'd stay in frame. If I needed more detail on a shot, I could zoom in.
Now I had to get messy. The camera was on ten second delay and I had enough film for fifty shots in there. That worked out to about eight minutes before the film ran out. I quickly put on my heels, set the hamper down at my side, and neatened my clothes as best I could. Then I started the camera.
I posed for a couple of generic sexy shots, pouting at the camera, and after the second I thought that maybe ten seconds was too short a delay between shots. Nothing to be done about it now, so I reached into the hamper and pulled out a pack of custard.
It wasn't open. There's a nice photo of my trying to pull it open, and when I'd finally gotten it open I'd lost track of the timing and just started pouring it onto my shirt. That's when I learnt it's a good idea to keep your food at a nice warm temperature. There's another very funny shot of me eyes wide, gasping in shock at the coldness of the custard. But I had to keep going and I kept pouring it over my shirt, then down over my breasts. It was too difficult to time the pours with the camera shots, so I'd chuck a whole lot over me then smile at the camera.
After four or five of these shots the custard was gone and I had a yellow front. My nipples felt like bullets and I had goosebumps all over. I reached into the hamper with sticky hands and pulled out a bottle of pancake batter. At least the top twisted easily off this. I was starting to get into the rhythm of this now, so I got a few shots of me pouring the batter over my skirt and legs, then one of me opening my shirt and pouring it over my bra, then another of me rubbing the mixture and smiling. It still felt cold as hell but I was getting comfortable with the process now. I turned around, bent over and poured batter over the my back and down over my skirt, again smiling at the camera.
Then I heard some noises on my left.
It wasn't speech, if I'd heard that I might have just run for it. But they were definitely steps, and a moment later, they stopped.
I reckon I was being watched. I missed a couple shots from being flustered and looking at the trees, but I couldn't see anyone. Then I remembered the countdown and pulled something else from the hamper.
It was a tin of baked beans. I thought that if the manager had seen all the photos to this point he'd undoubtedly say they were too tame, so I pulled open my shirt and tugged my bra below my breasts. The idea that someone was in the bushes watching made me feel warm and tingly. I poured the baked beans down my front, then held open my skirt and panties and poured them over my crotch. There was still more left so I poured the last of the beans over my head. Sauce dripped down my face, my clothes were heavy and sagging, and my skin was red all over. I felt humiliated. But I didn't stop. Somehow performing for the camera wasn't much different to performing for this stranger in the trees.
I reached for something else in the hamper, and suddenly realized my pulse was skyrocketing. It was a tin of rice pudding. I pulled my shirt off and poured it over my head. I picked clumps out from the tin and smeared them on my arms, then rubbed my hands up and down my skirt. I imagined the guy in the woods watching, and suddenly my breath came hard.
The next thing in the hamper was a tin of syrup. I pulled my skirt down to my thighs, dipped my hand in the syrup, and rubbed it into my panties. I took more handfuls and rubbed them over my thighs, brushing my skirt down to my feet. I stepped out of it and lay down on the ground, legs spread apart, and poured syrup over my panties. I pulled the crotch aside and let the syrup slowly roll down over my cunt. And the camera caught it, although I had to zoom in a lot later.
I felt more compromised than ever, and also more turned on than ever. I shut my eyes and imagined the observer leaving the woods, now standing above me and watching. One hand massaged my clit while the other reached into the hamper and pulled out a can of cream. I sprayed it all over my face while I masturbated. Then I thought that maybe I wasn't presenting enough to the camera, so I got on my knees, turned around, and, still masturbating, took another packet of custard and poured it over my ass. I felt it over my fingers and came.
That was the point when I realized I couldn't hear the camera anymore. I wiped some cream out of my eyes, looked at the camera and saw the 'film stock empty' light on. It felt like a letdown. I sat down and looked around for the observer. There was nobody in sight.
So the whole observer thing was probably just a bit of momentary panic. At least I'd gotten the shots. I went down to the creek and washed myself clean as best I could. The clothes were unrecoverable, but at least I'd prepared myself for the journey back: I took a blanket from the hamper, wrapped myself in it, and walked back to the carpark: hair streaky, feet bare, camera bag over one shoulder.
===
"I'm surprised that didn't put you off mess for life," said Chloe.
"It's definitely done something unusual to me," said Alice. "Nowadays when I get messy at home, it has to be outdoors. Doing it inside where nobody can see does nothing for me."
"You must have some very understanding neighbors," said Chloe.
"Oh, the fences are quite high, and there's thick vegetation all round," said Alice. "But there's always the possibility that they might look."
"How'd the photos come out?" asked Chloe.
"The manager had a good laugh at them," said Alice. "Then he said they were overlit. And then he picked one of me pouring beans into my panties."
"What about you, Marie," said Sam. "Seems you're the only one who hasn't told us a story yet."
"Trust me, you'll want to hear hers," Alice said to Chloe.
Marie smiled sweetly as they looked at her. "Okay, if that's what you all want. I came to it later than these two. In fact it wasn't originally my idea at all..."
===
You probably don't need me to tell you, Chloe, but I'm a pretty confident, outgoing sort of girl. When I started working here, I didn't feel like I needed to keep it a secret, and so I told two or three of my friends. After that it more or less was general knowledge what I did. And my friends are all like me, so nobody was too scandalized.
Unfortunately they also like to play practical jokes. A few of them (I don't even know who the ringleaders were) decided they were going to get me at my twenty-fifth birthday, which was a few weeks away - and my descriptions of what went on here provided the perfect inspiration. We usually went out for these things, so they booked a private room at a cooperative restaurant, and put a dozen close friends on the guest list. Naturally everyone else was in on the secret.
I had no idea anything was up. We all ate and drank and had a great couple of hours, and occasionally I'd see some of the other guests exchanging some 'meaningful' looks. They made me a little curious but I soon got into the spirit of the occasion and forgot all about them.
It was when we were finishing up our dessert that one of the guests, Judy, stood and tapped her glass for silence. She thanked us all for being here, gave me a very complimentary toast, and then she smiled rather oddly at me. "And we've got a special birthday surprise for you," she said.
I opened my mouth to say something, and somebody slammed a pie in my face.
She must have crept up behind me while Judy was giving the toast - everyone else had hidden their expressions well. And while I'd taken plenty of pie hits here, this one was so unexpected I nearly gagged on the cream in my mouth. Then I realized what had happened, smiled, and wiped my eyes clear. "Haha, very funny guys," I said, acknowledging the laughter and the grins of my friends.
"Oh, the surprise isn't over," said a voice behind my ear - Tulla, the pie thrower. She turned my chair around, so that I was facing a curtain at the back of the room. Two girls got up and pulled the curtain back, revealing a plastic chair in an inflatable kiddy pool, and a table laden with messy foods.
I think I just laughed. I was wearing good clothes, so normally I would have been terrified at the possibility they'd get ruined, but with pie on my face and splatters of cream down my front that didn't seem like an issue anymore. Besides, the amount of food on that table must have seemed excessive to my friends, but I'd taken a lot more working at the Messy Club.
Most importantly, we'd all had a bit to drink.
At this point I was grabbed at both arms and marched over to the pool, although I'd've happily walked there. I looked down at myself; there were splatters of cream on my tube top, and some had started falling onto my black miniskirt. I was also wearing nude pantyhose and high heels - I'd been expecting us to go out afterwards. My friends weren't dressed any more conservatively, so maybe they'd had the same idea.
They sat me down in the chair and two hands planted themselves firmly on my shoulders. I guess they'd thought they'd need to tie me to the chair or something. Everyone was crowded around the pool and so Judy started directing traffic, lining the girls up one after the other. "You take something from the table, chuck it on her, then back to the end of the line!" She turned to me and grinned wickedly. "Ready for the most memorable birthday of your life?"
I nodded. "Bring it on," I said.
Judy picked up a pie dish from the table. Most of the table was taken up with pie dishes full of various substances, although there were also cans and bottles and even some buckets. She held the pie dish in front of my face, showing me the mound of guacamole inside, then splatted it on my face.
"Careful," shrieked Tulla, "you're getting some on me!"
Judy smeared the pie up and down my face then pushed it up onto my hair.
Next in line was Shawna, another old friend. She seemed fairly apologetic about all this, but at the same time had an excited smile on her face. She took a tin of custard and poured it up and down my legs. It felt cool and sticky.
After Shawna came Tasmin, and she was obviously very drunk. She picked up a bucket of baked beans, almost spilling it on herself, then tossed it at my head. I just had time to shut my eyes before my face was covered in beans and orange sauce. Behind me, Tulla shrieked again as more mess splattered her. The bucket was still half full, so Tasmin poured the rest down my front. My chest and belly were sticky with sauce, and beans dripped down into my lap.
"Someone give Tasmin a little less next time," I heard Tulla say. I grinned. Part of me was really enjoying being such a spectacle in front of my friends. I wanted them to keep going.
After that it got a little harder to keep track of who was doing what. I remember someone taking a can of Dairy Whip and spraying lines of cream up and down my arms, and a mound in my lap. Next someone took a coconut cream pie and planted it on my chest. After that came a can of tomato sauce over my head. While it was still dripping from my chin I got another pie of whipped cream in the face.
The messes were coming faster and faster. The first few had been a little nervous and hesitant but now people were really getting into the spirit of the affair. There was a loud buzz of excited chatter: everyone was looking forward to their turn.
Tulla's hands were firm on my shoulders. I could smell the bean sauce dripping from her dress, and her hands were messy to the wrists.
Someone took two whipped cream pies and sandwiched my head. A bottle of pancake batter was poured over my head. By now all sorts of substances were puddling in my lap, and I rubbed my hands in the mixture, wiping it up and down my dress. Next came another tin of custard, poured over my thighs. I squirmed in my seat. I wanted more.
"Her back's pretty clean," I heard someone say. "Can we get her to lean forward?" Tulla pushed my shoulders forward, so I was leaning down over my legs. A can of pumpkin soup was poured all over the bare skin of my back.
The line in front of me had spread out a bit; people wanted to get a good vantage point and watch. I decided it was time to kick things up a notch. "Well, if you're after areas that are clean..." I said, and stood up. Tulla kept her hands on my shoulders but let me stand. Then I turned around and stuck my ass out. My skirt was so short I was probably showing everyone my black panties, but that didn't seem to matter. They weren't clean, either: there was a moist patch between my legs.
I smiled at Tulla, her hands still on my shoulders; she smiled back at me. There was a large patch of orange sauce on her dress, and splatters of cream and custard all over. Her arms were streaky with mess up to the elbows. "Don't worry, we'll get them back," I whispered, and she grinned.
There had been some scandalized shrieking at my impromptu ass flashing, but not much. Sharelle stepped up to the plate with a whipped cream pie. She whacked it onto my ass with a loud 'splat', and I felt my cheeks redden with the impact. Cream sprayed out and over my torso, even splatting Tulla again. Sharelle rubbed the pie around over my panties and skirt, then let the dish fall to the bottom of the pool.
"Excellent work, Sharelle," I said, turning back round and sitting down in the chair. I felt cream oozing up between my legs and squirting up my back. I felt so good I wriggled around in the chair, trying to force it up more crevices.
I'd also noticed as I sat down that the entire pool was now covered in a thin layer of sauce, cream and custard. And since it was a fairly large pool, people would have to lean forward dangerously if they wanted to keep out of it and pour stuff over me. Which meant they'd have to stand in the pool to do so.
The next girl, Fiona, solved this problem by taking a can of creamed corn and tossing the contents over me. She was a fairly accurate throw, so most of it ended up on my chest and throat, but some still splashed the unfortunate Tulla.
"Grr," said Tulla. "No throwing!"
Next up to the plate was Judy. She had a strangely deliberate look about her. She took a tub of yogurt and stood in the pool, right in front of me. "So you want us to cover the clean areas," said Judy. "I can think of a couple."
As she stared at me she pulled my tube top away from my body and slowly poured yogurt over my bare breasts. I fought the urge to react and just stared back, the girls behind her shrieking again, as Judy took her time emptying out the yogurt. It was cold and sticky and I could feel my nipples hardening. Some yogurt was pooling at the bottom of my tube top, and more was dripping down between my breasts and streaking my belly.
We were like two hawks, our faces just inches apart. Judy's eyes were steady and clear, and there was a smirk on her lips. When the last of the yogurt dripped out, she tossed the tub aside and let go of my tube top. It snapped back into place, if a bit lower on my body with the weight of the mess. For a finishing touch she rubbed her hand over my tube top, pushing the yogurt around my breasts.
"Satisfied now?" she said.
I smiled sweetly at her. "Why, Judy." I said. "That's exactly what I wanted. How did you know? In fact, allow me to say thank you."
And I reached up, took Judy's face in both hands, pulled her forward and kissed her.
The look of surprised outrage on her face was priceless, but she was on slippery ground and unbalanced. She tried to wriggle free, but I held her face tightly to mine, rubbing it in the layers of muck and mess. Her body nearly fell against mine as well but she straightened her legs in time.
I felt her hot breath on my face. She wasn't reciprocating the kiss, which I thought a little ungrateful. I twisted my leg behind hers and let her go.
Immediately Judy recoiled, her face now looking like a makeup artist's nightmare. Her legs tangled in mine and she overbalanced, falling on her side in the pool next to me. She'd been wearing a skirt and white blouse, and both were immediately stained in the mess of food. One of her heels had come off and she was slipping around, trying to find purchase.
As Judy screeched and tried to regain her footing, I nodded to Shawna, next in line. "Go on." She didn't need another invitation: she ran to the table, took a bucket of porridge, and stood over Judy. Judy glared up at her. "You're not..."
"Oh, yes I am," said Shawna, and tipped the porridge over Judy in a massive torrent. Judy flailed around but couldn't escape being messed. It ran over her head, down her front, over her legs, even down to her feet. When Shawna was done Judy was totally covered, her hair in ruins, her shirt hanging loosely from her body.
Judy didn't take it lying down. She stood up, grabbed Shawna before she could move back, and wrestled her into the pool. Shawna tried to fight back at first, but once she was in the pool she started fighting back with surprising intensity, the two of them rolling around in porridge.
The line had broken up and all the remaining girls were crowded around the pool. Chaos was threatening to break out and it was Tasmin who started it. As Judy and Shawna wrestled, she jumped into the pool, ostensibly to break up the fight. But within seconds she was messy herself and naturally she started wrestling back.
Tulla let go of my shoulders and I saw her staring at Tasmin, smiling. Revenge time. She took a bucket of spaghetti and waited till Tasmin was uppermost in the group, then poured it all over the three of them.
It was at that point that everyone else realized - pie or be pied. The group of seven mostly clean girls left over made a mad dash for the table. A couple came at me with pies in each hand. I stood and let them throw their pies at my body, then grabbed the arm of the nearest and hugged her to me. She squealed as I pulled some of the mess off my face and patted it in her hair.
I dropped her into the pool and waded into the six remaining girls. Someone pied the back of my head, and in front of me I saw Fiona pieing Sharelle. Sharelle already had a couple of tubs of custard in hand and she tossed these over Fiona's front. I got a cream pie from the table and pied Melissa.
There were just three clean girls now, and they had terrified looks on their faces as they ran to the far end of the room. We advanced on them, a group of six girls with pies in hand. Kelly was the first to break; she ran to the left and was caught by two girls and given a pie sandwich. This seemed to resign the last two girls to their fate, and they stood still, grimaces on their faces, as we walked up to them and then pied them.
It nearly ended there, but then we remembered there was still more mess on the table. Again everyone ran back. Judy and Tasmin and the others were climbing out of the pool, a total mess, food covering every inch of their bodies. They each took a bucket from the table, and they weren't glaring at each other anymore; they were glaring at me.
Before I knew what had happened two girls behind me grabbed me and lifted me up. I struggled, but they carried me over to the pool and threw me in. By now there was enough of a layer of mess on the bottom of the pool to cushion my fall. Food splatted over the floors and the walls. We'd be leaving the place with a large cleaning bill.
Judy didn't say anything: she just lifted the bucket over me and tipped it over. Inside was actual slime. I writhed underneath the torrent of slime, my clothes rucked up and ragged. I wanted more. I wanted the level inside the pool to rise until I was covered in it.
Tasmin tipped the next bucket over me; it was tomato soup. I sat up in the slime and let it fall down over my head. It was warm and sticky. I could feel the weight pulling my tube top down further.
But I wasn't the sole centre of attention now. A few of the pied girls were struggling with each other, and I soon realized they were trying to throw someone in. A moment later they got Kelly off her feet and tossed her in screaming. I rolled aside to avoid her, and as she tried to climb up I grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back into the mess.
Kelly wasn't having much fun in the mess, but she gave up fighting after a moment and sat there. She glared at her tormenters. "Wimps."
I heard more struggles on the other side of me and moment later Tulla was thrown in. Her dress may have been streaked and stained already but I lost no time in grappling with her and forcing her into the slime. She wriggled and fought me, and so I didn't notice Fiona creeping up behind us with a bucket of semolina pudding.
Fiona poured the pudding over us and more splatted on Kelly, who squealed. Naturally Fiona switched focus and threw the rest of the semolina over Kelly. To follow this indignity Melissa took a custard pie and splatted it on Kelly's breasts.
But Kelly wasn't going to take this lying down. She grabbed Melissa and with surprising strength lifted her clean off her feet. Melissa screamed but Kelly tirelessly bore her back into the slime and rolled her on her back. A fiery expression on her face, she rubbed Melissa's face in the slime.
With more bodies, and more slime, the level in the pool was rising and rising. Next in was Lisa, thrown in by Tasmin and Shawna, and immediately drenched by a bucket of custard. Her white dress bobbed around in the mess, one strap hanging off her shoulder.
I looked at the others standing around the pool. "That makes five," I said. "Reckon we can make it to twelve?" I could see they already had the same idea. Tasmin was standing closest to the pool now, and the two girls behind her gave her a good shove forward. I caught her arms and pulled her in. She collapsed on top of me, giggling, and Tulla and I immediately rolled on top of her. I realized then that my tube top had slipped completely off my breasts, although you could barely tell under all the mess.
That left six girls standing, two of which (Shawna and Judy) were already messy from head to toe. And indeed these two immediately grabbed Jamie, lifted her up and tossed her in among us. We immediately laid hands on her and pulled her down into the mess. So sudden were we that her whole head went under. She rose, spitting out slime and wiping her eyes clean.
The next girl to fall was Karen. She'd been mostly quiet throughout the whole fight, taking her pies with good grace and not fighting back. Now Judy and Shawna were advancing on her, and she suddenly leapt forward, into the pool. I fancied I saw her smiling. She landed butt first, her legs striking Tulla in the back, and then seven pairs of hands and arms were all over her, pushing her into the slime, pulling and stroking at her.
Now just four remained. Sharelle realized we were staring at her, and broke for the table. There were still a couple of buckets on the table, and she picked up one and walked to the edge of the pool. I don't know what she was thinking, but she suddenly lifted the bucket over her head and said, "Don't make me do this."
"DO IT!!" we shouted in unison.
And she tipped the bucket over herself. It was full of cake mixture, and ran in thick slow runnels down her body. Large gobs fell inside her top and pulled it open. Then Fiona stepped behind her and pushed her in. Our arms were already outstretched and we lifted her bodily into the slime.
By now it was getting too crowded for wrestling. I'd felt more than one set of heels strike me in a painful area. Instead, the nine of us sat up in the pool, each of us totally covered in mess, our hair streaked, our clothes in tatters. I wasn't the only one topless. And nobody seemed to care. We gave the remaining three girls a challenging stare: gonna chicken out on us?
Fiona looked like she wanted to, but Judy and Shawna were having none of it. Judy grabbed Fiona as she tried to run off, and Shawna took her from the other side and hugged her tightly. Together they lifted Fiona into the air and we raised our arms to her, like she was a singer about to crowd surf. Judy and Shawna threw her in and we pulled her down. Now there were nine of us in the pool Fiona got a more extensive treatment than anyone previous. Her top was ripped and her skirt pulled down. A minute later I saw her bra top floating in the slime.
Don't ask me why we did it. At the time, it felt like something primal.
Fiona struggled for a bit but then she saw Sharelle's face and immediately grabbed it. She pulled Sharelle on top of her and they began kissing. Fiona began to pull down Sharelle's top.
We began to feel a bit unwanted so we turned our attention back to the last two girls: Judy and Shawna. I could see they both wanted to join us, but at the same time neither wanted to be pushed in first. They pushed each other, trying to get each other to the front. Judy was the stronger, and after a while she had herself behind Shawna, pushing her inexorably over the slippery floor toward the pool. Shawna leant back but it was no use; her feet got in arms reach and immediately we lifted her into the air. Judy pushed her forward and Shawna tumbled into the pool.
We set on her but Shawna seemed to determined to beat us to the punch. She threw herself forward, letting her front fall totally in the slime, then rolled over and ducked her head back. By the time our hands were on her she was already covered.
Judy stood and smirked at us.
"Well, is this what you expected the night to turn out like," I said to her.
"Not exactly," she said. "Tell the truth, I didn't really believe those stories you told."
"Now you know better," I said. "Come on, jump in: we're getting lonely here." I looked at the other girls - they all wanted the same thing.
"Not yet. The mixture's not quite right," she said. She walked to the table, which still held two buckets and one pie. She picked up the buckets and walked back to the pool. And though she came within grasping distance we held back, waiting to see what she did.
"This one's slime," she said, and threw it all over us, a bright green coat of muck on our skin. A couple of girls looked like they were going to seize her, but she stayed where she was. "And this one's pudding mixture," she said, and likewise threw it into the pool."
She tossed the buckets aside. "That's better," she said. "Although I don't want to get my clothes messy." She was messy all over, so I didn't see what she was driving at. Then she leant over, pulled her one remaining heel from her right foot, and threw it aside.
She straightened and began to unbutton her blouse. It was wet and stained and hung stiffly from her shoulders, and the buttons slipped around in her fingers. After a minute she'd wriggled out of it and threw it aside. Her skin had splotchy stains on it and her bra was transparent.
Then she unclasped her skirt, pulled down the zip, and stepped out of it. Underneath she was wearing pantyhose, and she rolled it down to her feet and threw it aside.
This wasn't a striptease, or anything. She wasn't trying to be sexy. She was just undressing.
Next came the bra. She unclasped it at the back and let it fall down her front. Her breasts were plump and firm. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and pulled them down. I saw little matted patches of slime and porridge in her bush.
Now she stood plainly before us, nude and gunge streaked. Everyone had gone silent, though the arms stretched out as they had before. We all still wanted her with us, strange as this behavior was.
"Nearly done," she said. "There's just one pie left." She picked up the last pie, a simple whipped cream pie. She pied herself in the face, then ran forward and jumped in. We grabbed at her and pulled her into the slime, but with no clothes to tug at it felt a little awkward. I noticed Kelly rub Judy's shoulders, and Tulla caress her breasts.
But Judy's eyes had been fixed on me the whole time, and I knew she wanted my touch. I wriggled through the bodies and leant down above her. "I believe I owed you a kiss," said Judy, and she pulled my face down to hers.
We pressed lips to lips, open mouth, and even with the mess on our bodies and the pies on our faces I fancied we could taste each other. I could feel one of Judy's hands at my waist and so I rolled fully on top of her. She got her thumb inside the waistband of my skirt and pulled it down my legs. We kept on kissing and I could feel our breasts pressing together. Her hips moved under mine and now her thumbs were hooking into my panties. She pulled them down to my knees. We rubbed up against each other, grinding pelvises together. She stuck one knee up between my legs and rubbed her thigh on my pussy.
Around us some of the other girls were also making out. Fiona and Sharelle were both topless, and kissing each other hungrily. Others were climbing out of the pool, laughing at the total mess they were making.
I was coming and I knew I had to do more for Judy. I rubbed one hand on her breasts while the other massaged her clit. She began to move more energetically underneath me. Her response excited me and I rolled over, pulling Judy on top. The sudden bath of slime made me orgasm. With her body out of the slime she moved and pumped even harder than before, her eyes alight as she saw me come. Her breaths came loud and hard. Finally she gave a long moan. She rolled off my body and lay by my side in the slime.
===
Messy Friendships - Part 7 & 8
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by ghilton » 28 Nov 2007, 13:13
(cont)
Marie stopped speaking.
The others were looking at her, but Chloe didn't know what to say. It was quieter than she'd ever known the Messy Club to be.
"Woah," she said at last.
"We had quite a job explaining ourselves to the restaurant staff later," said Marie. "Luckily that wasn't my problem."
"Kinda got out of hand there in the end, didn't it?" said Chloe.
Marie smiled. "If you knew my friends, you wouldn't find it so difficult to believe."
"Why'd Judy strip off at the end?"
"I think she just wanted to know what it felt like," said Marie. "Getting messy in the nude, I mean. And she knew she could trust the rest of us totally."
"You haven't... you know, since-"
"That depends," said Marie. "If you mean have we had sex, then no. If you mean have we got messy again, then yes."
"With Judy?"
"A few times, yes. Also with about six other of my friends at different times. There's even been talk of making my birthday into an annual gunging affair. Although it'll need to be quite different next time!"
"So tell us," said Alice, "what was your first time like?"
Chloe thought about her own prosaic beginning. "Oh no, I couldn't. It'd be so anticlimactic after everything you three have said."
"Well, at least talk about your usual messy routine," said Sam.
Chloe didn't think that was too exciting either, but she wanted so much to fit in with these girls that she nodded. "Okay. I'm usually getting messy every week or so. This is how it typically goes..."
===
It takes me several hours to prepare.
I start with the food. There's three pies in the fridge, bought from the bakery yesterday. I take them out and set them on the bench. Then I take six pie shells and fill them with cream. One of the cans is strawberry flavored; the cream comes out the nozzle a pale pink. Another can is banana flavored. I finish with two vanilla pies and set them all aside.
Next I start work on the slime. I haul out the mixer, put in the largest bowl, add the ingredients from my own private slime recipe, and start mixing. A teaspoon of green coloring goes in. After five minutes the slime's reached a smooth enough consistency, and I pour it out into a bucket. Then I put the bowl back and start again.
I've got more flour and emulsifier than usual this morning, and I do another five bowls of slime, each one a different color. I run out of buckets and pour the remainder into bowls and cartons. This looks like being a big day.
With the slime done I inspect the pantry. I spot a tin of diced fruit in syrup, pull open the top and put it alongside the slime. I also spot cans of diced tomatoes, potato soup, tomato soup, and condensed milk. To these I add packets of custard, yogurt and mayonnaise. There's a packet of instant gravy, I mix this up with some water and toss it in the microwave.
This batch of food just keeps going. It's going to be a big one today.
Finally I'm satisfied. I put it all on a small table and push it to one side.
Sometimes I use the bathroom for getting messy, but this time I feel like the space of the kitchen. I pull out plastic sheets and spend the next half hour covering every surface, every floor tile and bench. When I'm done I'm sweaty and already imagining the messing to come.
Now it's time to get myself ready. I take a long shower and wash my hair. I blow-dry it, brush it straight again, and tie it together. Some days I do it up in a bun; today it's just a ponytail. I paint my nails and apply makeup to my face.
All that remains is the outfit. It's the same clothes each time. I wash them thoroughly for hours afterward, but they've started to pick up remnants of my messy sessions. There's a certain smell they have. Some of the stains resist all washing and scrubbing. Most importantly, the fabric has a different feel to it. It's pliable somehow, slippery and oily. Just that sensation on my skin gets me excited.
On go the panties, then pantyhose over the top. The pantyhose are the only items of clothing I replace after each messing. I step into my pumps, then pull on my brown skirt. I tighten and straighten.
Next comes the bra, and over that the slip, and then the white long sleeved shirt. I button it to the neck. I put on an orange vest, button this tightly as well, then finally comes the brown suit jacket, the color and fabric matching my skirt. This I also like to button up tightly, so you can't see the vest at all and can only catch sight of my shirt down the middle of my torso.
I smooth down my arms and look at myself in the mirror. You look a smart businesswoman, I tell myself. I notice that I'm breathing deeply and that my pulse is up.
It's time to head to the kitchen.
I take a plastic stool and set it down in the centre of the plastic sheeting. Sometimes I like to imagine that I'm being watched as I get messy, so I take a video camera and plant it on a bench. I start it rolling. Later the tape will go into a locked box. The table I pull over carefully so everything's handy. I study its contents.
Every week it begins differently. Today my eye is caught by a yellow cream pie. I pick it up in one hand, it's almost weightless. I swish it around in the air experimentally, then slowly push it against my chest.
Yellow cream sticks to my chest in tufts. I hardly feel anything. I rub the pie around my chest then let the shell drop. I take a pink cream pie and add it to my chest, likewise pushing it around over my breasts. Next I take a white cream pie, stand up, and push it against my ass. I sit down and let the cream spread out over the stool.
I reach for the table and take a jug of gravy. I pour it over my arms, doing my best to coat the jacket thoroughly. There's more left over so I hold my arms up and pour it over my hands and wrists, letting the gravy slowly run down my arms, over the sleeves of my shirt. When the jug's empty gravy is dripping from my fingertips.
Next I take a packet of custard and pour it on my skirt, until the whole of my lap is yellow. Custard drips from the hem of my skirt onto my thighs. I pour my custard on my legs, and feel the moisture through my pantyhose.
Most of my suit is still too clean. I turn around and present my back to camera, then take a packet of custard and pour it over the back of my jacket. I feel the jacket begin to sag down with the weight. When it's mostly covered I stand up and lean forward, and pour the rest of the custard over the back of my skirt. Custard drips down onto my thighs and calves.
When I sit back down there's a satisfying squelch. I can feel moisture between my legs.
Next I lift up a bucket of gunge. It's heavy and I have to hold it with both hands. I lift it so that the top of the bucket is level with my neck, then tip it forward. A torrent of slime runs down my front. It presses my clothes against my skin, pools in my lap, drips noisily onto the floor. I see the outline of my legs clearly in my skirt. My jacket takes most of the damage, and is now a dripping green, but some of the slime tips inside, over my vest and shirt. I feel the fabric sticking to my chest.
Now I want to feel something against my skin. I take a bowl of raw eggs, stand up, and pull my skirt up to my waist. Underneath regions of my pantyhose have gone thin and transparent. I pull the pantyhose away from my waist, slime dripping from my skirt, and drop the eggs inside. They run down my legs, leaving sticky trails on my thighs.
I shudder at the sensation. My hands press into my skirt, knuckles kneading my groin.
Next thing from the table is the can of potato soup. I lean forward and pull the back of my jacket away from my neck. Inside I pour the soup. It cascades down my back, staining my vest and shirt. I feel the clumps of potato settling in the small of my back.
Looking at my front it's all the same color. I take a jar of mayonnaise and empty it over my chest. I rub it into my jacket with my bare hands, pressing the layers of fabric together over my breasts.
After that I pick up a strawberry flan from the table.
It's one of the bakery bought pies. For now my face and hair have remained clean. I feel my breath catching.
Quickly I push the pie into my face. I taste strawberry on my lips. I rub the flan from side to side then push it up my face and onto the top of my head. It stays there a moment then falls to the side. I feel sticky streaks all on my cheeks and forehead. Globs of syrup stick to my eyelashes.
Now the barrier's been broken I just want to mess my head. I grab the tin of canned tomatoes and pour it over my hair. I'm covered in tomato pulp and juice. It's a heavy wet mass on my hair, and my ponytail drips red. The stink is overpowering and I want more. I take the can of tomato soup and add it to the tomato pulp. Soup runs down over my eyes and ears. I see it dripping down onto my shirt.
I've got the rush going and I need more. I take another bucket of slime and hold it up above my head. This takes effort; there's no way I can let this come out gently. It's gonna be a big rush. I shut my eyes tight and let the slime fall.
It covers my head in an instant, and falls in a heavy sheet onto my jacket. The front sags open and large amounts of slime run inside. My vest and shirt are streaked purple. It pools up at my waist, runs down inside my skirt. I feel streaks of slime all down my back. To be drenched by slime, while totally dressed: it's heavenly.
I look down at myself, already messy all over. I let my hands play over my body, feeling the messy fabric, rubbing it between my fingers. The jacket is redundant now - I unbutton it and let it drop to the floor. Underneath my shirt and vest have a V-shaped streak of slime down the middle, and the sleeves are gravy stained. I see my body clearly outlined underneath.
Now I take a carton of custard and open it over my shirt. I use my free hand to rub in the custard as it falls, over my arms, my chest, my belly. The top of my shirt (buttoned at the neck) is still clean, so I take a strawberry cream pie and plaster it on my neck.
My vest still isn't totally messy, so I take a bowl of slime and run it up and down over the fabric. Then I toss the rest over my shoulder and coat my back.
I reach my hands into the mess of cream at my neck and undo the top button of my shirt. I keep going down until I've reached the level of my vest. I take another bowl of slime and pour it inside my shirt. I feel its weight drag down my slip, the slime running over my bra and dripping into my lap. There's more slime and I stand, hold my skirt away from my body and pour slime over my pantyhose. I unzip my skirt but hold it where it us.
My clothing is starting to slip. Already I want my hands on my bare skin. I take a bucket of orange slime. I want this stuff to hit hard. I hold it above my head and look up, shutting my eyes tightly.
I pour it over my face. It hits me like a slap, but an equal amount has fallen directly down my front. I feel my skirt slip down my thighs. My shirt flaps open, both shoulders slipped off. Only the vest is holding it in place.
I toss the bucket aside, and blink my eyes open. I'm so exhilarated I snatch a whip cream pie from the table and smash it into my face. Then I blink my eyes open again and look down. I'm a sodden dripping mess. My breasts rise and fall, my groin warm and quivering. I unbutton my vest and let it fall. My shirt slips down to my waist. I pull my arms out of it and let it also fall to the floor.
My slip is already stained and sodden. Through it I can see my bra clearly outlined. I cup my breasts and feel the moisture on my fingers. My skirt's at my knees by now and I kick it clear. There's quite a pile of clothes on the floor now, all piled up in the middle of the slime.
I take the can of condensed milk, and hold my slip open. I pour the milk inside, let it run from side to side to coat my breasts. When I press the slip back, it sticks to the skin. Next comes the tin of diced fruit, and for this I stick my groin out, pull out my pantyhose, and pour the fruit and syrup over my panties. It runs down my legs and seeps through my panties. I already feel the backside sticking tightly to my buttocks. I take the pantyhose and roll them down to my knees. Then I remember I'm still wearing the pumps. I step out of them, kick them aside, and place my feet deliberately in the slime. I let it soak through the pantyhose, rising up between my toes. Then I pull the pantyhose completely off and add them to the clothes pile.
Right now I feel I've been neglecting my groin. I take a banana cream pie and splat it onto the front of my panties. I rub the cream over my panties with both hands, pushing it up onto my belly and in between my upper thighs. I also want more mess on my bare legs, so I take a bowl of slime, press my thighs together, and pour it over the them. There's more left over and I pour it down my front. As slime runs down my slip I hold my panties open and let it drip down into my cunt.
An idea strikes and I pull my panties off. I take a lemon meringue pie and sit forward on the stool. I spread my legs as much as I can manage. Then I take the pie with both hands and whack it into my groin.
Cream shoots out over my thighs, and the weight of filling and base pushes it up my pussy. My eyes go wide and I shriek. I put my hands into the heavy mass between my legs and start to fondle myself, and my body's shuddering.
We're gaining acceleration. One sticky hand goes to my back and undoes my bra. It sticks to my breasts, so I brush it down to my waist. As my fingers move through the meringue, pressing into my clit, I take a jug of yogurt and pour it into my slip, over my breasts. When it's done I let the jug fall and I caress my breasts.
I've started to move up and down on the stool. I remove my hand from my breasts, stick a finger in my mouth and suck on the moisture, and nearly bite it off as orgasm brings a rush of sensation. Meringue pie falls from the stool to the floor as my hips buck. As I'm rocking on the stool I take my hand from my groin, pick up another bucket of slime, and tip it over my head.
The slime pulls my slip down to my waist, sends half the meringue crashing to the floor, coats my front and my back and my legs, my whole head submerged in the stuff, and I'm rocking back and forth on the stool even harder. I grasp my slip in both hands and nearly rip it pulling it over my head.
This orgasm is like a nuclear reaction: it's starting to go out of control. The stool falls from under me and I collapse awkwardly on the floor amongst the slime and my sodden clothes. Even the sudden wetness on my back and legs excites me further. My hand's back at my groin, masturbating furiously, and my other hand reaches for the last bucket of slime. I snatch it somehow and tip half over my breasts, which runs down to my chin. The rest I hold tip over my groin, which thrusts and shudders under the blue rain.
The pleasure is reaching new pitches of intensity. I want to keep it going but there's only one thing left - an apricot cream pie. I take it and slam it against my face. My vision goes black. As I press both hands to my groin I hear my breath muffled by the pie over my mouth and nose. And I come again.
It takes a minute before my blood begins to settle. I let my hands fall to my side. I lie there in the slime, face coated in pie, my hair ruined. I think to myself that I've just behaved most undignified and unladylike, and I smile to myself.
===
Chloe watched the faces of the other three for their reaction.
"I'm gonna have to try that one day," said Sam.
"You say you've got tapes?" said Marie?
Chloe's face reddened. "Yeah..."
"Ever watch them over?"
The red in her face deepened. "yeah..."
Alice looked at her sympathetically. "Next time you do, you should invite us over."
Chloe was a little surprised to find herself saying, "I'd love that."
"That sounds like something we should shake on," said Sam. "Shake?"
They shook hands.
"Well, so, anyway about those three newcomers..." said Alice.
"Of course!" said Chloe. "I'd totally forgotten the reason I came over here. You're all interested?"
They all nodded. "After all this talk, more than ever," said Sam.
"Good. Well, what I wanted to really talk about, if you guys were gonna do this, was strategy. These guys are decent performers, but they're not naturals. They won't know how to appeal to a strip club audience. So I want you guys to take them out of their natural responses. Provoke them. I want this to turn into a big fight, because when these girls get uninhibited, they go all the way."
The other three smiled at each. "Sure," said Alice. "How about we do it like this..."
Marie stopped speaking.
The others were looking at her, but Chloe didn't know what to say. It was quieter than she'd ever known the Messy Club to be.
"Woah," she said at last.
"We had quite a job explaining ourselves to the restaurant staff later," said Marie. "Luckily that wasn't my problem."
"Kinda got out of hand there in the end, didn't it?" said Chloe.
Marie smiled. "If you knew my friends, you wouldn't find it so difficult to believe."
"Why'd Judy strip off at the end?"
"I think she just wanted to know what it felt like," said Marie. "Getting messy in the nude, I mean. And she knew she could trust the rest of us totally."
"You haven't... you know, since-"
"That depends," said Marie. "If you mean have we had sex, then no. If you mean have we got messy again, then yes."
"With Judy?"
"A few times, yes. Also with about six other of my friends at different times. There's even been talk of making my birthday into an annual gunging affair. Although it'll need to be quite different next time!"
"So tell us," said Alice, "what was your first time like?"
Chloe thought about her own prosaic beginning. "Oh no, I couldn't. It'd be so anticlimactic after everything you three have said."
"Well, at least talk about your usual messy routine," said Sam.
Chloe didn't think that was too exciting either, but she wanted so much to fit in with these girls that she nodded. "Okay. I'm usually getting messy every week or so. This is how it typically goes..."
===
It takes me several hours to prepare.
I start with the food. There's three pies in the fridge, bought from the bakery yesterday. I take them out and set them on the bench. Then I take six pie shells and fill them with cream. One of the cans is strawberry flavored; the cream comes out the nozzle a pale pink. Another can is banana flavored. I finish with two vanilla pies and set them all aside.
Next I start work on the slime. I haul out the mixer, put in the largest bowl, add the ingredients from my own private slime recipe, and start mixing. A teaspoon of green coloring goes in. After five minutes the slime's reached a smooth enough consistency, and I pour it out into a bucket. Then I put the bowl back and start again.
I've got more flour and emulsifier than usual this morning, and I do another five bowls of slime, each one a different color. I run out of buckets and pour the remainder into bowls and cartons. This looks like being a big day.
With the slime done I inspect the pantry. I spot a tin of diced fruit in syrup, pull open the top and put it alongside the slime. I also spot cans of diced tomatoes, potato soup, tomato soup, and condensed milk. To these I add packets of custard, yogurt and mayonnaise. There's a packet of instant gravy, I mix this up with some water and toss it in the microwave.
This batch of food just keeps going. It's going to be a big one today.
Finally I'm satisfied. I put it all on a small table and push it to one side.
Sometimes I use the bathroom for getting messy, but this time I feel like the space of the kitchen. I pull out plastic sheets and spend the next half hour covering every surface, every floor tile and bench. When I'm done I'm sweaty and already imagining the messing to come.
Now it's time to get myself ready. I take a long shower and wash my hair. I blow-dry it, brush it straight again, and tie it together. Some days I do it up in a bun; today it's just a ponytail. I paint my nails and apply makeup to my face.
All that remains is the outfit. It's the same clothes each time. I wash them thoroughly for hours afterward, but they've started to pick up remnants of my messy sessions. There's a certain smell they have. Some of the stains resist all washing and scrubbing. Most importantly, the fabric has a different feel to it. It's pliable somehow, slippery and oily. Just that sensation on my skin gets me excited.
On go the panties, then pantyhose over the top. The pantyhose are the only items of clothing I replace after each messing. I step into my pumps, then pull on my brown skirt. I tighten and straighten.
Next comes the bra, and over that the slip, and then the white long sleeved shirt. I button it to the neck. I put on an orange vest, button this tightly as well, then finally comes the brown suit jacket, the color and fabric matching my skirt. This I also like to button up tightly, so you can't see the vest at all and can only catch sight of my shirt down the middle of my torso.
I smooth down my arms and look at myself in the mirror. You look a smart businesswoman, I tell myself. I notice that I'm breathing deeply and that my pulse is up.
It's time to head to the kitchen.
I take a plastic stool and set it down in the centre of the plastic sheeting. Sometimes I like to imagine that I'm being watched as I get messy, so I take a video camera and plant it on a bench. I start it rolling. Later the tape will go into a locked box. The table I pull over carefully so everything's handy. I study its contents.
Every week it begins differently. Today my eye is caught by a yellow cream pie. I pick it up in one hand, it's almost weightless. I swish it around in the air experimentally, then slowly push it against my chest.
Yellow cream sticks to my chest in tufts. I hardly feel anything. I rub the pie around my chest then let the shell drop. I take a pink cream pie and add it to my chest, likewise pushing it around over my breasts. Next I take a white cream pie, stand up, and push it against my ass. I sit down and let the cream spread out over the stool.
I reach for the table and take a jug of gravy. I pour it over my arms, doing my best to coat the jacket thoroughly. There's more left over so I hold my arms up and pour it over my hands and wrists, letting the gravy slowly run down my arms, over the sleeves of my shirt. When the jug's empty gravy is dripping from my fingertips.
Next I take a packet of custard and pour it on my skirt, until the whole of my lap is yellow. Custard drips from the hem of my skirt onto my thighs. I pour my custard on my legs, and feel the moisture through my pantyhose.
Most of my suit is still too clean. I turn around and present my back to camera, then take a packet of custard and pour it over the back of my jacket. I feel the jacket begin to sag down with the weight. When it's mostly covered I stand up and lean forward, and pour the rest of the custard over the back of my skirt. Custard drips down onto my thighs and calves.
When I sit back down there's a satisfying squelch. I can feel moisture between my legs.
Next I lift up a bucket of gunge. It's heavy and I have to hold it with both hands. I lift it so that the top of the bucket is level with my neck, then tip it forward. A torrent of slime runs down my front. It presses my clothes against my skin, pools in my lap, drips noisily onto the floor. I see the outline of my legs clearly in my skirt. My jacket takes most of the damage, and is now a dripping green, but some of the slime tips inside, over my vest and shirt. I feel the fabric sticking to my chest.
Now I want to feel something against my skin. I take a bowl of raw eggs, stand up, and pull my skirt up to my waist. Underneath regions of my pantyhose have gone thin and transparent. I pull the pantyhose away from my waist, slime dripping from my skirt, and drop the eggs inside. They run down my legs, leaving sticky trails on my thighs.
I shudder at the sensation. My hands press into my skirt, knuckles kneading my groin.
Next thing from the table is the can of potato soup. I lean forward and pull the back of my jacket away from my neck. Inside I pour the soup. It cascades down my back, staining my vest and shirt. I feel the clumps of potato settling in the small of my back.
Looking at my front it's all the same color. I take a jar of mayonnaise and empty it over my chest. I rub it into my jacket with my bare hands, pressing the layers of fabric together over my breasts.
After that I pick up a strawberry flan from the table.
It's one of the bakery bought pies. For now my face and hair have remained clean. I feel my breath catching.
Quickly I push the pie into my face. I taste strawberry on my lips. I rub the flan from side to side then push it up my face and onto the top of my head. It stays there a moment then falls to the side. I feel sticky streaks all on my cheeks and forehead. Globs of syrup stick to my eyelashes.
Now the barrier's been broken I just want to mess my head. I grab the tin of canned tomatoes and pour it over my hair. I'm covered in tomato pulp and juice. It's a heavy wet mass on my hair, and my ponytail drips red. The stink is overpowering and I want more. I take the can of tomato soup and add it to the tomato pulp. Soup runs down over my eyes and ears. I see it dripping down onto my shirt.
I've got the rush going and I need more. I take another bucket of slime and hold it up above my head. This takes effort; there's no way I can let this come out gently. It's gonna be a big rush. I shut my eyes tight and let the slime fall.
It covers my head in an instant, and falls in a heavy sheet onto my jacket. The front sags open and large amounts of slime run inside. My vest and shirt are streaked purple. It pools up at my waist, runs down inside my skirt. I feel streaks of slime all down my back. To be drenched by slime, while totally dressed: it's heavenly.
I look down at myself, already messy all over. I let my hands play over my body, feeling the messy fabric, rubbing it between my fingers. The jacket is redundant now - I unbutton it and let it drop to the floor. Underneath my shirt and vest have a V-shaped streak of slime down the middle, and the sleeves are gravy stained. I see my body clearly outlined underneath.
Now I take a carton of custard and open it over my shirt. I use my free hand to rub in the custard as it falls, over my arms, my chest, my belly. The top of my shirt (buttoned at the neck) is still clean, so I take a strawberry cream pie and plaster it on my neck.
My vest still isn't totally messy, so I take a bowl of slime and run it up and down over the fabric. Then I toss the rest over my shoulder and coat my back.
I reach my hands into the mess of cream at my neck and undo the top button of my shirt. I keep going down until I've reached the level of my vest. I take another bowl of slime and pour it inside my shirt. I feel its weight drag down my slip, the slime running over my bra and dripping into my lap. There's more slime and I stand, hold my skirt away from my body and pour slime over my pantyhose. I unzip my skirt but hold it where it us.
My clothing is starting to slip. Already I want my hands on my bare skin. I take a bucket of orange slime. I want this stuff to hit hard. I hold it above my head and look up, shutting my eyes tightly.
I pour it over my face. It hits me like a slap, but an equal amount has fallen directly down my front. I feel my skirt slip down my thighs. My shirt flaps open, both shoulders slipped off. Only the vest is holding it in place.
I toss the bucket aside, and blink my eyes open. I'm so exhilarated I snatch a whip cream pie from the table and smash it into my face. Then I blink my eyes open again and look down. I'm a sodden dripping mess. My breasts rise and fall, my groin warm and quivering. I unbutton my vest and let it fall. My shirt slips down to my waist. I pull my arms out of it and let it also fall to the floor.
My slip is already stained and sodden. Through it I can see my bra clearly outlined. I cup my breasts and feel the moisture on my fingers. My skirt's at my knees by now and I kick it clear. There's quite a pile of clothes on the floor now, all piled up in the middle of the slime.
I take the can of condensed milk, and hold my slip open. I pour the milk inside, let it run from side to side to coat my breasts. When I press the slip back, it sticks to the skin. Next comes the tin of diced fruit, and for this I stick my groin out, pull out my pantyhose, and pour the fruit and syrup over my panties. It runs down my legs and seeps through my panties. I already feel the backside sticking tightly to my buttocks. I take the pantyhose and roll them down to my knees. Then I remember I'm still wearing the pumps. I step out of them, kick them aside, and place my feet deliberately in the slime. I let it soak through the pantyhose, rising up between my toes. Then I pull the pantyhose completely off and add them to the clothes pile.
Right now I feel I've been neglecting my groin. I take a banana cream pie and splat it onto the front of my panties. I rub the cream over my panties with both hands, pushing it up onto my belly and in between my upper thighs. I also want more mess on my bare legs, so I take a bowl of slime, press my thighs together, and pour it over the them. There's more left over and I pour it down my front. As slime runs down my slip I hold my panties open and let it drip down into my cunt.
An idea strikes and I pull my panties off. I take a lemon meringue pie and sit forward on the stool. I spread my legs as much as I can manage. Then I take the pie with both hands and whack it into my groin.
Cream shoots out over my thighs, and the weight of filling and base pushes it up my pussy. My eyes go wide and I shriek. I put my hands into the heavy mass between my legs and start to fondle myself, and my body's shuddering.
We're gaining acceleration. One sticky hand goes to my back and undoes my bra. It sticks to my breasts, so I brush it down to my waist. As my fingers move through the meringue, pressing into my clit, I take a jug of yogurt and pour it into my slip, over my breasts. When it's done I let the jug fall and I caress my breasts.
I've started to move up and down on the stool. I remove my hand from my breasts, stick a finger in my mouth and suck on the moisture, and nearly bite it off as orgasm brings a rush of sensation. Meringue pie falls from the stool to the floor as my hips buck. As I'm rocking on the stool I take my hand from my groin, pick up another bucket of slime, and tip it over my head.
The slime pulls my slip down to my waist, sends half the meringue crashing to the floor, coats my front and my back and my legs, my whole head submerged in the stuff, and I'm rocking back and forth on the stool even harder. I grasp my slip in both hands and nearly rip it pulling it over my head.
This orgasm is like a nuclear reaction: it's starting to go out of control. The stool falls from under me and I collapse awkwardly on the floor amongst the slime and my sodden clothes. Even the sudden wetness on my back and legs excites me further. My hand's back at my groin, masturbating furiously, and my other hand reaches for the last bucket of slime. I snatch it somehow and tip half over my breasts, which runs down to my chin. The rest I hold tip over my groin, which thrusts and shudders under the blue rain.
The pleasure is reaching new pitches of intensity. I want to keep it going but there's only one thing left - an apricot cream pie. I take it and slam it against my face. My vision goes black. As I press both hands to my groin I hear my breath muffled by the pie over my mouth and nose. And I come again.
It takes a minute before my blood begins to settle. I let my hands fall to my side. I lie there in the slime, face coated in pie, my hair ruined. I think to myself that I've just behaved most undignified and unladylike, and I smile to myself.
===
Chloe watched the faces of the other three for their reaction.
"I'm gonna have to try that one day," said Sam.
"You say you've got tapes?" said Marie?
Chloe's face reddened. "Yeah..."
"Ever watch them over?"
The red in her face deepened. "yeah..."
Alice looked at her sympathetically. "Next time you do, you should invite us over."
Chloe was a little surprised to find herself saying, "I'd love that."
"That sounds like something we should shake on," said Sam. "Shake?"
They shook hands.
"Well, so, anyway about those three newcomers..." said Alice.
"Of course!" said Chloe. "I'd totally forgotten the reason I came over here. You're all interested?"
They all nodded. "After all this talk, more than ever," said Sam.
"Good. Well, what I wanted to really talk about, if you guys were gonna do this, was strategy. These guys are decent performers, but they're not naturals. They won't know how to appeal to a strip club audience. So I want you guys to take them out of their natural responses. Provoke them. I want this to turn into a big fight, because when these girls get uninhibited, they go all the way."
The other three smiled at each. "Sure," said Alice. "How about we do it like this..."
Last edited by ghilton on 28 Nov 2007, 13:18, edited 1 time in total.
by ghilton » 28 Nov 2007, 13:15
PART 8 - THE CLUB PERFORMANCE
A week later, Donna and Michelle and I were backstage at the Messy Club.
We were in one of the change rooms, which was basically just a narrow hallway with a mirror and some lights. Girls were coming in and out all the time, changing costumes, moving equipment around, all business. Nobody paid us any attention as we sat in front of the mirror and adjusted our clothes.
I felt a little intimidated, and nervous as all hell. As I combed my hair I thought back to that Saturday afternoon one week ago, when Chloe had first broached the idea.
I'd known the pitch was coming, but I was surprised at Michelle and Donna's reaction. They'd been more receptive to the idea of performing messy than I might have thought. Instead of laughing Chloe off, they seemed uncertain - but curious.
I was quite uncertain myself. While I did have to admit that I'd gotten a kick out of my public performance earlier in the week, the idea of doing it as a matter of course, as if it was my profession, gave me pause. But I didn't quite get around to saying it out loud, and looking at Chloe's ready grin, in that warm atmosphere of steamy satisfaction, I didn't feel like saying 'No'.
Neither did Michelle or Donna. They were noncommittal, but receptive, making vague noises of interest. Chloe seemed happy with this, and we sat back in the chocolate for a few minutes more, relaxing in the warmth.
Finally we got out, one by one, and cleaned ourselves off. I pulled a whole bunch of clothes out of my closet and laid them out for the other three, who soon came in, pink and naked. Soon we were all dressed again and sitting in my living room.
Chloe explained what she was on about. Since I already knew about the Messy Club and their sales pitch, I kept quiet, while Michelle and Donna asked questions.
Watching the three of them talking together, I felt uneasy. While I was undoubtedly closer to my friends right now than I'd ever been before, I was having a hard time not seeing them as sexual objects. Donna wore a pullover top of mine that was too tight for her and her breasts strained at the fabric. I looked at the warm curve of Michelle's neck and wanted to caress it. Chloe was wearing a blouse and short pants, and she looked good enough to eat up.
Part of me wanted to go back to a time when things were simpler.
On the other hand, all three of them looked damn hot.
Chloe had finished describing the Messy Club by now, and was extolling the virtues of working there. "Performers are allowed to set their own comfort level. If you only want to expose a certain amount, that's fine. If you don't want to work the tables, or the cages, that's fine too. All that's asked of you is that you get very messy."
"But I've never done anything like this," said Donna. "And all the interaction with men..."
"There's actually not too much of that if you're not a waitress," said Chloe. "There have been times I've been on stage or up in the cages and I've completely forgotten an audience was even there. Just think of it like staging a play."
Then Chloe proposed the idea she'd had for our debut performance. It sounded good to me. Donna and Michelle liked it too, and Michelle asked if we could use a certain substance. Chloe nodded, and said that messy performances were best when they were thrown together, improvised and freeform. And what followed was a half hour brainstorm of ideas for mess, lines of dialogue, surprise tricks and outfits. Steadily our ideas and suggestions got more explicit, and by now I was very turned on. Michelle and Donna looked as excited as I felt.
There was no longer any question of whether we'd be doing this. Even when Chloe told us we could be performing as early as next Saturday, nobody had second thoughts.
In a few minutes Michelle and Donna left; their suggestions had become steadily more focused on each other and they obviously wanted to get somewhere more private. Chloe and I smiled uneasily at each other. I didn't know what to say and she didn't either. Eventually Chloe came and sat beside me and wrapped me in her arms. Her hands moved gently over my body, and I returned the favor.
Chloe's expression was sleepy, eyes half closed. She looked like she was in a dream.
Our mild makeout session lasted a few minutes more, then Chloe seemed to perk up, and said she better go now. I was too tired to protest, and just sat there and waved her goodbye.
That week, I met up with Chloe a couple of times, and I knew Michelle and Donna were hooking up too. We discussed further ideas, and even had an extremely hot messy session midweek, but we never met as a foursome to rehearse. Somehow we all knew that the performance would be most natural, most enjoyable... and hence most believable, if it was improvised and sloppy.
And now it was Saturday night.
I studied myself critically in the mirror. I was wearing a thin floral pattern summer dress, and nothing else. Even my feet were bare. My hair was brushed back over my shoulders. The dress had some room in it, so it wasn't displaying my body too prominently, but that'd change the moment the mess came out.
And absolutely anything could happen out there.
Donna was sitting next to me. She'd just about finished with her costume - she was wearing a white tank top over a pink bra, a very short pair of ripped denim jeans (supplied by Chloe), knee high striped socks and white boots. She looked calm, although maybe she was hiding her nerves like I was.
At the end of the row was Michelle, looking dangerous in a leather cap, fishnet stockings, black heels, leather miniskirt, and a leather vest over a sheer black transparent chemisole.
Our costumes were exaggerated versions of not just our Saturday gunging wear, but our overall personality. Thus Michelle was a badass, vicious sex beast, Donna girlish and sweet, while I was seemingly plain and guileless but hot and voluptuous beneath the surface.
A waitress stuck her head around the corner. "You're on in two minutes," she said, and left.
We all got up and headed down the passageway, Michelle and Donna exchanging nervous glances. I'd at least been here before and so I led the way, around a turn and through a doorway. We could hear music from the club and the low hum of conversation seeping through the walls.
The stage area was bare and dark, the main illumination light seeping from underneath the curtains at the front. There were six chairs, three in a line, facing each other but angled out a little so the audience would get a better view. Between them, at the back, was a chair on a small stand, and in front of that a podium. Around all of this, arranged in a U with the open section at the front, were tables packed with food and pies. We'd given them a long list, and I was pleased to see that most of what we'd specified was visible.
We weren't alone on the stage. Some of the cleaners were still fussing around the edges of the stage, and most of the floorboards were still wet and soapy. More importantly, the three waitresses who would also be taking part in this performance were already here, and seated in a row.
We took the seats opposite theirs. The expressions on the waitresses faces were difficult to read. They were just sitting there looking bored, which you might expect given this was their job, but since we were newcomers I'd expected a friendly smile or two, maybe a word of encouragement. They kept quiet, and so did we.
Finally Chloe came in. She took the chair behind the podium and gave us a small wink as she passed. It made me feel better, though I don't think Donna or Michelle even saw it. Michelle in particular looked almost green with worry.
I leaned over to them and whispered, "Don't worry about a thing. If you get the lines wrong, they won't care. If you mess up some action, they'll like you even more. You really can't do anything wrong. Besides, I'm the one seated closest to them so they'll be ogling me mostly."
Michelle managed to smile at that. "Well, someone's got tickets on themselves," she said. I glanced at Donna, who was seated between us, and was reassured at the look of concentration on her face.
Another minute passed. I made a conscious effort not to twiddle my thumbs or tap the floor. Suddenly the music cut out. We glanced to the curtain, and lights began to turn on above us as we heard the manager's voice.
"For your entertainment: the latest in a series of Messy Club debates!"
The curtains parted. I looked out into the audience nervously but you couldn't see much. There were spotlights at the ceiling, and the dark shapes of waitresses moving through the crowd, but I couldn't make out individual faces.
You can do this, I told myself. The worst has already happened; now we get to the fun part.
Chloe stood up behind the podium. As moderator, she wore the same clothes as the waitresses, and over them a black dinner jacket, and a top hat.
"Evening, ladies and gentlemen," she said, gripping the podium with one hand. "Tonight we shall be debating the topic: are pies the greatest messy substance?"
She extended one arm toward the waitresses. "Taking the yes side, are three of the Messy Club's regular performers: Sam, Alice and Marie." She paused for the audience to cheer its approval. The waitresses stayed where they were, only acknowledging the applause with little nods of the head.
Chloe now pointed at us. "And taking the no side, are three Messy Club newcomers with a voracious natural appetite for mess. Put your hands together for Audrey, Donna and Michelle!"
The audience cheered again, and it sounded even louder the second time. I nodded and smiled.
"Each speaker has three minutes," said Chloe. "The first speaker for the affirmative, please." She sat down as Sam got to her feet.
"Thank you, Madam Speaker," said Sam. She looked out at the audience. "My name's Sam. I'm sure many of you know me - I've been working this club for two years. I've had every variety of food and mess thrown over me, dropped on me, rubbed into me. By myself and others. And of all the different foods I've worked with, pies are by far my favorite. They truly are the greatest messy substance. But I'm not just going to tell you that tonight. I'm going to show you... with the help of my two lovely team members."
Alice and Marie smiled sweetly and turned in their seats. The table behind them was stacked with pies of every variety, and they each picked up one before turning back, grinning wickedly.
Sam continued, "Historically, messy play has been all about pratfalls and slapstick. There's really nothing funnier than some unsuspecting fall guy getting it right when he least-"
Suddenly Alice stood up and slapped her pie right over Sam's face. Sam froze as Alice, grinning, rubbed the pie into her face before releasing it. Sam's face was coated in crust and cream, some of which slowly fell to the floor. Little spots of cream dotted the front of her waitress uniform, and there were large globs of it on her shoulders. Sam held the moment a little longer then blinked her eyes open, and wiped them out with one hand.
"Point number two," she continued as if nothing had happened. "Getting pied feels very enjoyable. Marie, if you would...?"
Alice and Marie swiveled to face each other. Alice, smiling, stuck her head out. Marie hefted her pie and slowly she ground it into the face of Alice, who responded with little muffled moans. Marie's hands were getting right into the mess, her fingers moving through the cream, and Alice moved her head underneath her touch.
"Almost as enjoyable as getting pied is getting to pie someone," said Sam. Marie pulled her hands back and Alice, blinking her eyes open, quickly picked up another pie from the table beside them and pushed it into the face of a willing Marie. They both leaned forward in their chairs, Alice's chest moving up and down as she breathed hard. Pie mess dripped down between them, onto their uniform, their thighs, and the floor underneath. Alice had both her hands in the mess of Marie's face, and she cradled her head. They bent their heads so the messes touched.
"A pie is not just for the face," said Sam. "You can plant one anywhere." Marie pulled back from Alice and stuck out her chest, tugging down her uniform to emphasize her cleavage. Alice took a pie and smushed it all over her breasts, moving her hands through the mess and squishing it underneath her clothes. I could see the cream falling down to her waist and making the front of her uniform sag. The valley between her breasts was full of cream and Alice pushed her breasts together, sending cream shooting up and coating Marie's chin and mouth.
Marie stood up and turned around, bending over so her ass was in Alice's face. Her skirt was short enough that she didn't even have to touch it to show her panties. Alice grabbed another pie and planted it on her tush. She rubbed it in firmly, and then Marie sat down in her lap and wriggled around, coating the front of Alice's skirt in pie. Alice entwined her arms around Marie.
"And lastly," said Sam, "in a food fight the pie is the most reliable and deadly weapon to hand." Immediately she whipped around and grabbed two pies. But before she'd turned back Alice and Marie were ready for her. A quick throw from Alice got her on the back, and with her other arm she hit the side of her head. Marie was closer and as Sam twisted away she got her on the neck. Marie still had another pie, and suddenly she turned and splatted it on Alice's head. Alice, still seated, was a perfect target, and Sam got her in the face with both pies. Alice, reaching out blindly, snagged a pie tin and managed to push it into Sam's groin. Marie got another pie and planted it over Sam's face, and as Alice reached out for another she fell over and overturned her chair. All three of them were laughing and giggling now. Alice face was totally covered and she couldn't reach the pies anymore, so she sat back, resigned, and pulled her top open. Sam pushed a pie over her bare breasts, and Alice squealed, while Marie dumped a pie on Sam's head.
Chloe, seated behind the podium, rang a bell: thirty seconds.
All three of the waitresses were on the floor now, rolling around in what was a surprisingly substantial amount of mess, grabbing whatever they could and smashing it into people's faces and torsos. Alice's top had a rip in it and you could still see her breasts. However the pace soon slowed and shortly they all stood up, rearranged their chairs, and sat back down.
Sam stayed standing. Like her fellow team members, she was messy all over with cream and crust, her hair standing out in spikes, her uniform rumpled and heavy, her face hidden beneath chocolate and custard. "I think we've shown why pies make the best messy substance," she told the audience. "And in conclusion..." She lifted her skirt away from her butt and sat down.
Onto a pie Alice had snuck in beneath her. Cream shot out from around her ass and oozed between her legs. Sam wriggled around in it, stuck a finger between her legs, licked the mess off it, and smiled at the audience.
Chloe stood up. "Thank you," she said. "And now, the first speaker for the negative team."
Our first speaker was Donna. For a second I thought she wasn't going to stand, and then she rose and faced the audience, nervous but game.
"Thank you, Madam Speaker," said Donna. "And a good evening to everyone in the audience." She bowed quickly, which got a cheer from some of the audience members. "First of all I would like to acknowledge some excellent points from the affirmative team. However, as that song goes, anything you can do, we can do better."
She still looked a little stiff standing there, so Donna started to walk around. "Pies are rather samey, aren't they? Once you've seen one pie hit, you've seen them all. Whatever happened to variety?"
Her wandering had taken her behind us, so that she was walking up and down the table of messy foods. Now she held up a handful of eggs. "For instance, what about eggs?" she said. "You can throw them or smash them against someone just like a pie."
She transferred two eggs to her right hand and crushed them in my hair. I sat still and felt the yolk and white running down my scalp.
"You can just use egg yolks on their own, for a stickier, more liquid mess," continued Donna. She picked up a jug full of stirred egg yolk, all gloopy and yellow, and poured it over Michelle's head.
Michelle gasped, I think from the unexpected cold, as egg poured over her face and cascaded down her front. The yolk made a sticky puddle in her lap and slowly dripped from her shoulders. Her leather cap drooped down over her face.
"That's not all," continued Donna. "Whip up some egg whites, and soon you've got a meringue." I knew what was coming, and shut my eyes a second before Donna dumped a bowl of meringue over my head.
I'd had this coming since I'd done the same to Michelle last Saturday. The meringue was warm and light, like sticking my head in cotton candy. I felt Donna's hands in the meringue, spreading it down over my shoulders and farms. She rubbed me gently and I licked the meringue from around my mouth.
Donna withdrew. "And that's just one substance. Now take slime. Clearly as classic a substance as the pie." She turned to the table and picked up a large bucket full to the brim with green slime.
"Slime has its own virtues," said Donna. "It allows a more cooperative experience, since you need a more or less willing victim. A messy session with slime isn't as aggressive or one-sided. Audrey here will help demonstrate."
She stood behind me and held the bucket over my head. "Here I have Audrey at my mercy, slime ready to drop." I looked up and mimed shock. "Now she knows I'm here, she can run." I stayed where I was, lowered my head and smiled. "But she's not running. She wants to be slimed. Over the head?" I shook my head, and held my dress out. It was loose against my body to begin with and now you could see my breasts completely. "No - she wants it over her chest. Very saucy." Donna slowly tipped over the bucket until slime began to drop down onto my bare skin. It splatted thickly over my boobs, and piled up in wet mounds against my dress and my lap. I felt the fabric sagging in my skin as slime dripped down over my lap and ran down my legs. I could feel the liquid spreading until it was like I was sitting in slime. Still it ran down my breasts. The sensation brought a flush to my skin. Slime worked its way into the crevices of my body, into my naked crotch. I rubbed my legs together.
Soon I heard slime dripping onto the floor, and Donna tilted the bucket back. I let the dress fall back against my body.
"There's still more," said Donna, more to the audience than to me. "Where do you think she wants it next?"
Several suggestions were shouted from the audience, which I ignored. I stood up, sending a further sheet of slime over my chair and onto the floor, and turned around, sticking my ass out. I bent over further, the slimy front of my dress hanging more than a foot below my chest.
Donna started at my neck. She tilted the bucket, and coated my whole back in slime. First my bare skin, then the thin fabric of my dress, tugging it inexorably downward. When she'd reached my butt Donna lingered, moving the bucket from side to side, making sure every inch was covered. The dress clung to every curve of my skin and I half felt I was naked already down there.
When the back of my dress was completely covered in slime Donna stopped. "Still more slime," she said. "Where do you want the last of it? No wait, don't answer that."
She lifted my dress up from my butt, revealing my bare ass. It was wet with slime, and with my legs slightly parted I knew some of the audience members could see my genitals, but that seemed entirely irrelevant at the moment. I just felt the bliss as Donna poured the last of the slime over my butt. It ran in streaks down my legs, and dripped between my legs. Tiny droplets ran with exquisite slowness over my genitals.
At last Donna was done. She tossed the bucket aside and I sat back down, hearing some cheers from the audience as I did so.
Donna was addressing the audience again, and all signs of her nerves had gone. "Pies limit you in volume," she said. "Choose another substance and you can have as much you want." She turned and picked up an even bigger bucket, one I knew was full of condensed milk. She held it over Michelle's head and tipped the lot over her. Michelle sat still at first as the milk ran down her body, then began to slowly rub her hands up and down her torso. Donna tipped the milk so that it ran out faster and faster, until it was splashing off her body and gushing out over the stage floor. I smelt the sticky sweetness of it. Michelle was becoming more animated, her body writhing and her hands moving up and down her thighs. She tilted her head back and let the milk cleanse her face. Her cap clung soddenly to her head.
Soon the milk ran out and Donna tossed that bucket aside, but it didn't stop Michelle, who kept touching herself, her hands exploring the messy clothes on her body.
Donna sat down beside her. "But I haven't touched on the biggest drawback of pies yet," she said. "Namely, that messy play is a solo pursuit most of the time. Pies just aren't suited to it."
I sat back in my chair, so Donna could be seen better by the audience. I knew what was coming.
Apart from her hands, and some of the milk and slime that had splashed on her chair, she was still clean. "When you do solo messy play," she told the audience, "you want to explore and take things slowly." Without looking she reached one arm behind her and picked up a jug of gravy. Looking intently into the audience, she began to pour it over her top. Occasionally she looked down at herself, as she coated her top, then drizzled gravy down her arms and onto her shorts.
"You want to mess things individually," she told the audience, as she moved the jug over her legs. She drizzled gravy over her thighs, and then opened her knee high socks and dumped some gravy in each. She rubbed the socks against her legs, squelching the gravy inside, then drizzled some more over her white boots.
"You want to work inward to the body," she continued. All the gravy was gone now so she took a bottle of chocolate syrup, pulled open her tank top, and started pouring it inside. Chocolate syrup stained the inside of her tank top and ran down her belly. After a short while she pulled the strap of her tank top down one arm, exposing her pink bra, which she covered in chocolate sauce. She then tugged down the other strap and exposed the other cup of her bra, which she also covered in chocolate sauce.
"This way you allow your excitement to slowly build," she said. Putting the chocolate syrup down she took a can of dairy whip, pulled out one cup of her bra and filled it with cream. She patted it back against her breast then cupped her breast hard, squelching out cream over her chest and neck. She did the same to her other breast, putting in even more cream. When that was done she took both breasts in her hands and rubbed them around and around in a circular motion, opening her mouth and letting us hear her moan. One hand went to her lap and opened the zip on her shorts. She pulled it down halfway, took the can of dairy whip, and squeezed out a large white clump over her groin.
"And you eventually want to act on this excitement," she said. Donna reached behind her and took a bottle of strawberry syrup. She shook it up and down and dumped it in with the cream. As it still fell down her left hand went into the mixture and began kneading, working with the knuckles. I saw her joints tightening, and her fingers moving in the mess, and soon from the position of her hand it was clear to everyone that she was masturbating. Her groin moved forward and her head tilted back, breathing hard and loud. Cream and syrup squelched between her fingers and spattered her thighs. Her unoccupied right hand reached back and took a bottle of cherry syrup. She popped it open, held it over her head, and her body was moving faster and faster. Cherry syrup began to drop down over her hair and face. Donna squealed. "Oh God Oh God Oh God," she moaned.
Finally her pelvis stopped thrusting back and forth. She raised her head, blinked syrup out of her eyes, and took her hand from her groin. It was covered in a pink mixture of cream and strawberry syrup. She brought the hand to her mouth, stuck her middle finger in, and sucked it clean.
"Mmmm," she sighed.
It was obviously the conclusion to her performance, and Chloe was already rising behind the podium. "Thank you," she said. "Now, the second speaker for the affirmative."
Alice stood. She was the messiest of the three waitresses, her top sagging down her chest and ripped down the middle, so that you could see her cream-covered breasts swaying as she moved. There were splotches of pie all over her body, and a thick sticky mound in her hair.
She nodded, slightly stiffly, to Chloe and then to us. "Thank you, Madam Speaker. And thanks also to the speaker for the negative, for her wonderfully demonstrated argument. However, I believe I can illustrate some flaws in her reasoning."
Alice walked around behind her chair and looked over the pies on the table. "Donna made the claim that pies lack variety - but, you can put anything in a pie dish." Her hands, moving over the table, stopped at a pie and picked it up.
"An example." She stood in front of Sam, who sat passively, and pushed the pie tin into her face.
Honey ran thickly down the sides of Sam's face. The tin was full of it, and as honey ran down Sam's neck Alice rubbed the pie tin around Sam's face. Heavy droplets of honey rained down on Sam's uniform, and trickled through her hair. When Alice threw the empty tin aside Sam's face was a golden mask. She sat perfectly still, eyes shut, as honey slowly slid down her front.
"And another example." I'd been focusing on Sam so intently I hadn't seen Alice get another pie. This one, I could see, was full of peanut butter. Alice pushed it into Sam's face, over the honey, and rubbed it up over her hair. Sam opened her mouth, letting honey trickle over her lips, and licked them. Her nose and eyes were hidden in the peanut butter, and she wiped them clean.
Alice was facing the audience again. She had a pie in one hand. "Also," she continued, "Donna would have you believe pies are no good when you're getting messy on your own. Which is obviously false, as otherwise I would take no pleasure in this." And she took the pie and pushed it double handed over her face. Cream oozed out around the edge of the tin as she slowly ground the pie into her face with one hand. She let the tin go, and it dropped slowly to the ground, revealing a face covered by an inch and a half of sloppy pie filling.
Alice didn't even blink her eyes clear. She stood there as Sam and Marie rose beside her. They each turned to the table, picked up a pie, and handed it to Alice. Both pie tins were full of a green paste that looked to me like guacamole. "And I wouldn't take any pleasure in this," she said, a pie in each hand, and smeared them over her torso and shoulders. One pie she moved from side to side over her collarbone, the other she rubbed in between and over her breasts. The uniform was sagging down at her waist.
"Or this," she said, her chest a thick mass of green paste, and she stuck a hand up her skirt and pulled her panties down to her knees. Sam had another pie which she slipped onto Alice's chair, and Alice sat down in it. Cream oozed up between her thighs, and tickled her ass. She wriggled from side to side, and said to the audience, "Donna discounts the intimate nature of pie messy play... ohhhhhh god," she moaned, and she pushed the knuckles of one hand into her crotch, pushing her skirt between her legs. "The way it feels so good against bare skin," she said.
At last she wiped her eyes out with one hand and blinked them open. Beside her Sam was standing facing the audience. She pulled down her panties and stepped out of them, then turned around and flipped her skirt up to her waist. She bent over, legs spread, giving the audience a full view. Alice got to her feet, picked up a tall creamy pie, and planted it firmly on Sam's ass. Sam moaned. Alice rubbed it in, first pushing against the pie tin, then dropping it and rubbing Sam with the palm of her hand, smoothing the cream over her ass. After a few seconds of this Sam straightened, turned around, and pulled her top down to her waist. Her breasts were full and pink, the tops frosted with cream, the undersides clean. Alice took a key lime pie and planted it across one breast. Then she took a banana cream pie and splatted it across her other breast. Sam pulled her top back up over the thick creamy mixture clinging to her breasts and running down her torso. She rubbed her hands over the fabric, pushing in and cupping her breasts, then rubbing the pie mixture around beneath the top. She sighed. As she kept on rubbing Alice took a chocolate pie and planted it over her right breast and hand. Then she took a strawberry cream pie and covered the other breast and hand. Still Sam rubbed and cupped, sighs becoming moans. Alice stepped closer, and put her hands into the sweet mass. Their hands linked. Sam pulled Alice in, their bodies pressing together, guacamole and strawberry and chocolate squelching together. Alice's hands rubbed Sam's shoulders, while Sam moved her hands down her back. Their heads moved close, and Alice stole in for a kiss. Sam's fingers brushed the top of her ass. They moved back and forth in a slow rhythm, and I felt sure Chloe was going to ring her bell for time right there and then. Then Alice pulled back, and Sam, fire suddenly in her eyes, gripped her top with both hands and ripped it off her body. Even with all the pie on her body, her breasts still stood out clearly.
"Another possibility Donna has neglected," Alice said, once again facing the audience, "is that of using pies directly on the genitals." She sat back down in her chair. Her panties still hung soddenly at her knees, and she pushed them right down. She spread her legs, and while we were directly in the field of view the way her skirt sagged with all the cream on it meant her cunt was still hidden from view.
Marie, who must have been jealous at all the attention Sam had been getting, was the one who stood up. She picked up a custard pie, lifted Alice's skirt with one hand, and as Alice looked down she briskly pied her crotch. Alice smiled and put one hand into the yellow mixture, fingers slowly playing with her wet lips. With her free hand she reached behind and took a pie. Marie, standing in front of her, lifted her skirt, revealing mostly clean white panties. Still fingering herself, Alice pulled her hand back and pied Marie's panties, hard.
Alice turned to the audience again. "Another weakness of Donna's argument," she said, fingers still playing in the mess and her voice wavering slightly, "is that she says pies are limited to a particular size and shape."
She stood up, as Marie sat beside her, and bent over the table behind them. She spread her arms wide and gripped something. When she turned around again we all saw her holding a rectangular pie dish, which must have been at least three feet by two feet. It was full of white cream.
"Not so," said Alice. She lifted it up to Marie and tipped it right over her. The top of the tin engulfed her head, while the bottom was planted in her lap. Her arms disappeared - in fact her whole upper body was hidden behind the tin. Great thick globs of cream splattered all over the floor, dripping from Marie's chair, making a silhouette on the floorboards.
Alice slowly pulled the pie tin back from Marie's body. She was covered head to waist in white, like someone who'd been held by the ankles and dipped in a vat of meringue.
Marie's eyes blinked open and she immediately pulled Alice to her, squashing her body in the cream. They kissed and Marie toppled backward, her arms around Alice. Her back was on the chair and Alice moved above her, her clothes sopping wet, cream dripping from their limbs.
As they fondled each other Sam stole up behind them. The pie tin still had a large amount of cream in it, so Sam picked it up, and whacked it onto Alice's back, covering her in cream from her hair to her butt.
It got difficult to see what was happening, there was so much mess. Certainly I saw clothes pulled off and thrown aside. Sam wasn't going to be left out of al the attention, so she pulled the pie dish off Alice's body, and pressed her head into it, running it around to pick up all the last traces of cream. When she lifted it out it was a white ball.
Chloe rang a bell for thirty seconds.
Alice and Marie continued kissing for a little longer, then at last they separated. As they sat back down, it was all I could do not to shake my head in disbelief. Apart from their legs, none of their bare skin was visible. Marie's top was gone, and her breasts rose and fell with her breathing. Alice's skirt was somewhere around her ankles, and I fancied I could see her pubic hair poking out of the cream.
Sam wasn't covered quite so extensively, but her head was wrapped thickly in chocolate and caramel, she was creamy all down her front, and her top was gone too.
"I hope you all see why we think of pies as a very versatile messy substance," Alice told the audience. "But there's one more use our opponents don't seem to have thought of."
She stood up, revealing that she definitely was naked below the waist, and picked up one last pie. She weighed it in her hand, then suddenly looked up at Michelle, and threw the pie.
The pie didn't spin once. With unerring accuracy it struck Michelle flat on the face. The pie exploded over her, and her head rocked back with the unexpected blow.
Michelle was too shocked to do anything at first. Then she wiped her eyes clean and glared at Marie. There was a red heat in her eyes and I felt sure she was going to get to her feet and pummel Marie to a pulp. But she restrained herself, and sat there and took it while the audience cheered and applauded.
Chloe was on her feet again. "Thank you," she said. "Now, second speaker for the negative."
Our next speaker was Michelle. She stood, leaving the rest of the pie on her face. Strangely, she didn't stay there, but walked to the front of the stage and faced the audience directly, legs apart, hands on hips. Milk still dripped from her clothes, and the leather was tight over her body. She ran one finger up her leg, licked it, and smiled at the audience. I knew that smile. It was the smile she had when she knew she was going to win.
"What I enjoy most about messy play," she said to the audience, "is the sensuality." She turned and walked behind me and Donna, one trailing hand caressing our shoulders and faces as she passed.
She picked up a tub of warm butter and scooped a hand in. She bent over Donna and rubbed the thick pat of butter onto her face. Donna tilted her head, and lifted her hands up to touch Michelle's face. Michelle steadily worked her way downward, the oily butter sliding slickly over Donna's skin, and running down the nape of her neck. Michelle's head got lower and lower until she was right over Donna, who extended her tongue and licked Michelle's lips. Michelle returned the favor and their tongues flicked against each other.
As this was going on I got out of my chair, came up behind Michelle and picked up a saucepan full of spaghetti and sauce. Donna was sliding down in her chair, her upper body almost horizontal. Michelle was bent down right over her, and I tipped the spaghetti over her butt. As it ran down her leather skirt I lifted the saucepan, bringing it up her back, coating her leather vest in tomato sauce. There was more left over and I kept on going, pouring spaghetti onto her wet hair, then onto her leather cap. It ran down her face and dripped onto Donna but they just kept kissing and fondling, not even reacting to me. I tipped the last of it in a gush over Michelle's head and slapped her leather miniskirt, grinning.
As the sauce rained down on them Michelle was tugging Donna's bra down to her waist. Red droplets landed in the mounds of cream over her breasts. I put the saucepan down and Michelle came around the front of Donna's chair, sitting down on her thighs. Donna was pulling at her vest, trying to take it off, and Michelle wriggled her shoulders, shrugging out one arm then the next. As she dropped the vest to the floor Donna cupped her breasts through the thin wet fabric of her top, Michelle's nipples clearly visible. Michelle arched her back and moaned, then suddenly dropped down to her knees in front of Donna. She lowered her head to Donna's groin, pulled the zipper of her shorts open and tugged them down to her knees.
I picked up a tub of yogurt. Michelle's mouth was in the creamy strawberry mixture on Donna's groin, and since her back looked relatively clean I poured the yogurt over it. As I'd done before I started at the butt and moved up, leaving a thick trail of yogurt up her spine, before dropping it into her hair. Michelle's tongue was extended, probing deeper into the cream, her face right in it. Donna moaned heavily, her head tossing. I had more yogurt and I kept moving upward, dropping it onto Donna's belly, then up to her breasts.
Like it was an instinctive reaction, Donna's arm shot out and grabbed mine. I was helpless in her iron grip as she pulled me to her. Somehow I found myself pressed directly against Donna, while Michelle's head bumped up against my butt. My dress, already slimy on the inside, got sticky and white with the yogurt. It stuck to Donna's body, held away from my body, and I was conscious of my green slimy breasts moving freely. Donna's hands moved inside and cupped them. I sighed and wanted to return the favor, but I still held onto the tub of yogurt.
I raised it above us, and tipped it over. A thick mound of yogurt splatted onto Donna's head. She sighed and tilted her head back, tongue licking at the yogurt as it fell on her face, her hands still moving inside my dress. I wanted some too so I pulled the tub back and tilted my head up. The last of the yogurt fell onto my face and into my hair.
As yogurt matted my hair I could feel Donna's body melting below mine, and Michelle's head moving back and forth at her groin. I threw the tub aside and moved against Donna, my face pressed to her, her body warm and vibrating beneath me. My hands moved over her breasts as we tongue kissed. Donna's hands were still inside my dress, and she tried to reach further down. Sodden from the mess, my dress ripped all the way down the front. Our breasts pressed together
I felt Michelle's head pull back, and she stood up behind us, her mouth and chin covered in syrup and cream. Immediately we transferred our attention to her: I shifted over to ride in her lap while Donna took a bucket of porridge and tipped it over us. I felt my dress falling in the shower of porridge and Michelle ripped it down more. My hands moved under her groin and cupped her ass, while Michelle's tongue licked at my breasts. I rubbed her through her leather skirt. Porridge dripped from our heads and ran slowly down our chests. I moved back and hooked my fingers into her leather skirt, tugging it down her thighs. She wasn't wearing panties. Donna tipped more porridge directly onto her bare groin, and Michelle rubbed her hands up and down in it.
Donna tipped out the last of the porridge and picked up a bucket of slime. She handed it to Michelle. Michelle tipped it over my head. I moved up and down on her, thighs pumping.
Then she set the still half-full bucket down on the floor. I could hear Chloe ringing for time and I reluctantly got up off Michelle. Donna and I sat down, both topless and covered in a rainbow of mess.
Not bothering to adjust her skirt, Michelle stood up and picked up the slime bucket. "I think that was a very illustrative demonstration of sensuality in messy play," she told the audience. "But I couldn't leave you without one last reason why non-pie mess rules."
She took one step forward and tossed the bucket of slime at Alice.
There was a gap of about seven feet between our chairs, and Michelle had twisted her wrist so that the slime spread in midair, and so it splashed all over Alice. Her face disappeared beneath the slime, eyes pressed tightly shut, and her front was green to her waist. Slime splashed off her breasts and shoulders and struck Sam and Marie.
Slowly, deliberately, Alice wiped her eyes clean. All three of them glared at us. Michelle smirked and sat down.
"Thank you," said Chloe. "Now, the final speaker for the affirmative."
We waited for Marie to stand up, but she didn't. They'd sat still, stony-faced, as we went through the previous performance. The three of them made an interesting lineup: Sam was topless, her skirt still on but no panties underneath. Alice still had her top on, which was smothered in slime, and was naked below the waist, her groin smeared with pie. Marie had her panties on, and nothing else.
At last Marie stood. But instead of giving an opening address, she turned silently and picked up a pie from the table behind them. She stuck her hand into the pie and scooped out a thick wedge of filling and cream, and suddenly I got where this vibe was coming from.
These three women were professional adult entertainers. We'd just spent over three minutes showcasing messy play as a sensual thing - that was what they did every day. If the battle was going to be decided over who could make the most enthusiastic demonstration of arousal, they were going to whip our asses - and the serious looks on their faces told me that's just what they intended to do.
Sure enough, Marie took her pie-covered hand and jammed it into her panties. She sat forward and spread her legs, so that we saw every movement of her fingers through the lacy fabric of her panties. Pie squelched out and ran down her legs as her fingers pushed up and down. She panted heavily and shook her head, hair straggly with pie and cream. Her free hand she brought up to her chest and she pinched one nipple, rapidly jiggling it up and down.
As her hands moved Sam and Alice stood up and took some more pies. Sam pied Marie in the face with a chocolate pie while Alice sandwiched her head with two more pies. Marie's muffled moans could be heard throughout the club. Sam sat down beside Marie and extended her arms to Alice, who sat down in her lap and turned her head so that their mouths met. As they kissed Marie wriggled up beside Sam and pressed her body into Sam's back, one hand still masturbating furiously, the other reaching to the table for another pie. She pied Sam on the top of the head, then took another pie, pied her on the side of the head, and one more pie, which went on the other side of the head. Then Marie reached for the mounds of pie filling stuck on Sam's head, grabbed whole handfuls of them, and massaged them into Sam's breasts. She hooked one leg between Sam and Alice's, her hand still at her crotch. With her free hand she took another handful of cream and moved down to Sam's cunt.
Sam and Alice still kissed, Sam's hands rubbing up and down Alice's slimy top, Alice's hands rubbing her groin. Sam suddenly tugged Alice's top down and brought her head around to lick at the side of her breast. Alice moved to one side to give Sam better access, and quickly brought her hands up from her crotch and grabbed two more pies. She slammed them onto her breast, then put a hand on the back of Sam's head and shoved it into the mess. As Sam licked and sucked, swallowing little pieces of pie filling, Alice grabbed another pie, and hit Marie in the face.
Marie was kneading Sam's groin, and trying unsuccessfully to lift her skirt. Now she grabbed the waistband with both hands and ripped. It came apart in her hands and she tossed it aside. She ran her hands up and down Sam's butt, then let her fingers glide underneath. She lifted Sam up and pulled her legs apart.
This caused Sam to move forward. Alice twisted around and then lay down on the chairs. Sam collapsed forward and now they were in a sixty-nine position. Immediately they dove their faces into each other's messy crotch, slurping and sucking. Mess ran down their legs.
Marie picked up a pie and slapped it right down the middle of Sam's ass. Cream splatted thickly across Alice's nose and forehead. Marie took another pie and moved to Alice's crotch. She lifted Sam's head up and pied here full in the face. Sam reached out, and pulled down Marie's panties. She took a pie and planted it onto Marie's pristine bush. Marie handed her another pie, and Sam pushed it down between Alice's spread legs, smearing cream into her cunt. Then Sam reached for Marie and pulled her close. Marie stepped inside Alice's legs and rubbed her bush against Alice's cunt while Marie and Sam kissed, Alice still slurping between Sam's legs.
Their bodies were now wound tightly together, moving and writhing like a three part machine, squelching and panting. It was hard for them to pick up more pies but Sam managed to snag some, more or less by touch, and she pied Marie's head and back, and then her butt. She fondled her ass crack while Alice pulled her legs apart and fingered her. Marie had handfuls of pie filling in her hand and she rubbed it over her breasts, then over Sam's. All three of them were moaning in unison.
At last Sam got up off Alice and they all separated. As a final touch, Marie picked up two pies, smiled blissfully, and slowly ground the pies into the motionless, placidly willing faces of Sam and Alice.
In turn they each picked up a pie and sandwiched Marie's face.
Their heads had practically disappeared beneath pie. Marie turned to the audience, and said, "We rest our case." Only when she sat down did they all wipe out their eyes.
I could feel moisture between my legs.
Chloe stood. "Thank you," she said. "Now, the final speaker for the negative."
My dress was open all down my front, and if you were close you could probably see my pubic hair, but I didn't care. I looked at Donna: her top and bra were around her waist, her shorts were gone. Her genitals obscured by mess. She still had on her striped knee-high socks. Michelle was practically naked in her dark gauzy top, fishnet stockings, heels and damp leather cap. I smiled at them.
"Madam Speaker, thank you," I said loudly, and turned to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, our argument is simple. Messy play is all about getting totally messy. And we're going to prove our case by showing how much messier we can get than the team for the affirmative."
A week later, Donna and Michelle and I were backstage at the Messy Club.
We were in one of the change rooms, which was basically just a narrow hallway with a mirror and some lights. Girls were coming in and out all the time, changing costumes, moving equipment around, all business. Nobody paid us any attention as we sat in front of the mirror and adjusted our clothes.
I felt a little intimidated, and nervous as all hell. As I combed my hair I thought back to that Saturday afternoon one week ago, when Chloe had first broached the idea.
I'd known the pitch was coming, but I was surprised at Michelle and Donna's reaction. They'd been more receptive to the idea of performing messy than I might have thought. Instead of laughing Chloe off, they seemed uncertain - but curious.
I was quite uncertain myself. While I did have to admit that I'd gotten a kick out of my public performance earlier in the week, the idea of doing it as a matter of course, as if it was my profession, gave me pause. But I didn't quite get around to saying it out loud, and looking at Chloe's ready grin, in that warm atmosphere of steamy satisfaction, I didn't feel like saying 'No'.
Neither did Michelle or Donna. They were noncommittal, but receptive, making vague noises of interest. Chloe seemed happy with this, and we sat back in the chocolate for a few minutes more, relaxing in the warmth.
Finally we got out, one by one, and cleaned ourselves off. I pulled a whole bunch of clothes out of my closet and laid them out for the other three, who soon came in, pink and naked. Soon we were all dressed again and sitting in my living room.
Chloe explained what she was on about. Since I already knew about the Messy Club and their sales pitch, I kept quiet, while Michelle and Donna asked questions.
Watching the three of them talking together, I felt uneasy. While I was undoubtedly closer to my friends right now than I'd ever been before, I was having a hard time not seeing them as sexual objects. Donna wore a pullover top of mine that was too tight for her and her breasts strained at the fabric. I looked at the warm curve of Michelle's neck and wanted to caress it. Chloe was wearing a blouse and short pants, and she looked good enough to eat up.
Part of me wanted to go back to a time when things were simpler.
On the other hand, all three of them looked damn hot.
Chloe had finished describing the Messy Club by now, and was extolling the virtues of working there. "Performers are allowed to set their own comfort level. If you only want to expose a certain amount, that's fine. If you don't want to work the tables, or the cages, that's fine too. All that's asked of you is that you get very messy."
"But I've never done anything like this," said Donna. "And all the interaction with men..."
"There's actually not too much of that if you're not a waitress," said Chloe. "There have been times I've been on stage or up in the cages and I've completely forgotten an audience was even there. Just think of it like staging a play."
Then Chloe proposed the idea she'd had for our debut performance. It sounded good to me. Donna and Michelle liked it too, and Michelle asked if we could use a certain substance. Chloe nodded, and said that messy performances were best when they were thrown together, improvised and freeform. And what followed was a half hour brainstorm of ideas for mess, lines of dialogue, surprise tricks and outfits. Steadily our ideas and suggestions got more explicit, and by now I was very turned on. Michelle and Donna looked as excited as I felt.
There was no longer any question of whether we'd be doing this. Even when Chloe told us we could be performing as early as next Saturday, nobody had second thoughts.
In a few minutes Michelle and Donna left; their suggestions had become steadily more focused on each other and they obviously wanted to get somewhere more private. Chloe and I smiled uneasily at each other. I didn't know what to say and she didn't either. Eventually Chloe came and sat beside me and wrapped me in her arms. Her hands moved gently over my body, and I returned the favor.
Chloe's expression was sleepy, eyes half closed. She looked like she was in a dream.
Our mild makeout session lasted a few minutes more, then Chloe seemed to perk up, and said she better go now. I was too tired to protest, and just sat there and waved her goodbye.
That week, I met up with Chloe a couple of times, and I knew Michelle and Donna were hooking up too. We discussed further ideas, and even had an extremely hot messy session midweek, but we never met as a foursome to rehearse. Somehow we all knew that the performance would be most natural, most enjoyable... and hence most believable, if it was improvised and sloppy.
And now it was Saturday night.
I studied myself critically in the mirror. I was wearing a thin floral pattern summer dress, and nothing else. Even my feet were bare. My hair was brushed back over my shoulders. The dress had some room in it, so it wasn't displaying my body too prominently, but that'd change the moment the mess came out.
And absolutely anything could happen out there.
Donna was sitting next to me. She'd just about finished with her costume - she was wearing a white tank top over a pink bra, a very short pair of ripped denim jeans (supplied by Chloe), knee high striped socks and white boots. She looked calm, although maybe she was hiding her nerves like I was.
At the end of the row was Michelle, looking dangerous in a leather cap, fishnet stockings, black heels, leather miniskirt, and a leather vest over a sheer black transparent chemisole.
Our costumes were exaggerated versions of not just our Saturday gunging wear, but our overall personality. Thus Michelle was a badass, vicious sex beast, Donna girlish and sweet, while I was seemingly plain and guileless but hot and voluptuous beneath the surface.
A waitress stuck her head around the corner. "You're on in two minutes," she said, and left.
We all got up and headed down the passageway, Michelle and Donna exchanging nervous glances. I'd at least been here before and so I led the way, around a turn and through a doorway. We could hear music from the club and the low hum of conversation seeping through the walls.
The stage area was bare and dark, the main illumination light seeping from underneath the curtains at the front. There were six chairs, three in a line, facing each other but angled out a little so the audience would get a better view. Between them, at the back, was a chair on a small stand, and in front of that a podium. Around all of this, arranged in a U with the open section at the front, were tables packed with food and pies. We'd given them a long list, and I was pleased to see that most of what we'd specified was visible.
We weren't alone on the stage. Some of the cleaners were still fussing around the edges of the stage, and most of the floorboards were still wet and soapy. More importantly, the three waitresses who would also be taking part in this performance were already here, and seated in a row.
We took the seats opposite theirs. The expressions on the waitresses faces were difficult to read. They were just sitting there looking bored, which you might expect given this was their job, but since we were newcomers I'd expected a friendly smile or two, maybe a word of encouragement. They kept quiet, and so did we.
Finally Chloe came in. She took the chair behind the podium and gave us a small wink as she passed. It made me feel better, though I don't think Donna or Michelle even saw it. Michelle in particular looked almost green with worry.
I leaned over to them and whispered, "Don't worry about a thing. If you get the lines wrong, they won't care. If you mess up some action, they'll like you even more. You really can't do anything wrong. Besides, I'm the one seated closest to them so they'll be ogling me mostly."
Michelle managed to smile at that. "Well, someone's got tickets on themselves," she said. I glanced at Donna, who was seated between us, and was reassured at the look of concentration on her face.
Another minute passed. I made a conscious effort not to twiddle my thumbs or tap the floor. Suddenly the music cut out. We glanced to the curtain, and lights began to turn on above us as we heard the manager's voice.
"For your entertainment: the latest in a series of Messy Club debates!"
The curtains parted. I looked out into the audience nervously but you couldn't see much. There were spotlights at the ceiling, and the dark shapes of waitresses moving through the crowd, but I couldn't make out individual faces.
You can do this, I told myself. The worst has already happened; now we get to the fun part.
Chloe stood up behind the podium. As moderator, she wore the same clothes as the waitresses, and over them a black dinner jacket, and a top hat.
"Evening, ladies and gentlemen," she said, gripping the podium with one hand. "Tonight we shall be debating the topic: are pies the greatest messy substance?"
She extended one arm toward the waitresses. "Taking the yes side, are three of the Messy Club's regular performers: Sam, Alice and Marie." She paused for the audience to cheer its approval. The waitresses stayed where they were, only acknowledging the applause with little nods of the head.
Chloe now pointed at us. "And taking the no side, are three Messy Club newcomers with a voracious natural appetite for mess. Put your hands together for Audrey, Donna and Michelle!"
The audience cheered again, and it sounded even louder the second time. I nodded and smiled.
"Each speaker has three minutes," said Chloe. "The first speaker for the affirmative, please." She sat down as Sam got to her feet.
"Thank you, Madam Speaker," said Sam. She looked out at the audience. "My name's Sam. I'm sure many of you know me - I've been working this club for two years. I've had every variety of food and mess thrown over me, dropped on me, rubbed into me. By myself and others. And of all the different foods I've worked with, pies are by far my favorite. They truly are the greatest messy substance. But I'm not just going to tell you that tonight. I'm going to show you... with the help of my two lovely team members."
Alice and Marie smiled sweetly and turned in their seats. The table behind them was stacked with pies of every variety, and they each picked up one before turning back, grinning wickedly.
Sam continued, "Historically, messy play has been all about pratfalls and slapstick. There's really nothing funnier than some unsuspecting fall guy getting it right when he least-"
Suddenly Alice stood up and slapped her pie right over Sam's face. Sam froze as Alice, grinning, rubbed the pie into her face before releasing it. Sam's face was coated in crust and cream, some of which slowly fell to the floor. Little spots of cream dotted the front of her waitress uniform, and there were large globs of it on her shoulders. Sam held the moment a little longer then blinked her eyes open, and wiped them out with one hand.
"Point number two," she continued as if nothing had happened. "Getting pied feels very enjoyable. Marie, if you would...?"
Alice and Marie swiveled to face each other. Alice, smiling, stuck her head out. Marie hefted her pie and slowly she ground it into the face of Alice, who responded with little muffled moans. Marie's hands were getting right into the mess, her fingers moving through the cream, and Alice moved her head underneath her touch.
"Almost as enjoyable as getting pied is getting to pie someone," said Sam. Marie pulled her hands back and Alice, blinking her eyes open, quickly picked up another pie from the table beside them and pushed it into the face of a willing Marie. They both leaned forward in their chairs, Alice's chest moving up and down as she breathed hard. Pie mess dripped down between them, onto their uniform, their thighs, and the floor underneath. Alice had both her hands in the mess of Marie's face, and she cradled her head. They bent their heads so the messes touched.
"A pie is not just for the face," said Sam. "You can plant one anywhere." Marie pulled back from Alice and stuck out her chest, tugging down her uniform to emphasize her cleavage. Alice took a pie and smushed it all over her breasts, moving her hands through the mess and squishing it underneath her clothes. I could see the cream falling down to her waist and making the front of her uniform sag. The valley between her breasts was full of cream and Alice pushed her breasts together, sending cream shooting up and coating Marie's chin and mouth.
Marie stood up and turned around, bending over so her ass was in Alice's face. Her skirt was short enough that she didn't even have to touch it to show her panties. Alice grabbed another pie and planted it on her tush. She rubbed it in firmly, and then Marie sat down in her lap and wriggled around, coating the front of Alice's skirt in pie. Alice entwined her arms around Marie.
"And lastly," said Sam, "in a food fight the pie is the most reliable and deadly weapon to hand." Immediately she whipped around and grabbed two pies. But before she'd turned back Alice and Marie were ready for her. A quick throw from Alice got her on the back, and with her other arm she hit the side of her head. Marie was closer and as Sam twisted away she got her on the neck. Marie still had another pie, and suddenly she turned and splatted it on Alice's head. Alice, still seated, was a perfect target, and Sam got her in the face with both pies. Alice, reaching out blindly, snagged a pie tin and managed to push it into Sam's groin. Marie got another pie and planted it over Sam's face, and as Alice reached out for another she fell over and overturned her chair. All three of them were laughing and giggling now. Alice face was totally covered and she couldn't reach the pies anymore, so she sat back, resigned, and pulled her top open. Sam pushed a pie over her bare breasts, and Alice squealed, while Marie dumped a pie on Sam's head.
Chloe, seated behind the podium, rang a bell: thirty seconds.
All three of the waitresses were on the floor now, rolling around in what was a surprisingly substantial amount of mess, grabbing whatever they could and smashing it into people's faces and torsos. Alice's top had a rip in it and you could still see her breasts. However the pace soon slowed and shortly they all stood up, rearranged their chairs, and sat back down.
Sam stayed standing. Like her fellow team members, she was messy all over with cream and crust, her hair standing out in spikes, her uniform rumpled and heavy, her face hidden beneath chocolate and custard. "I think we've shown why pies make the best messy substance," she told the audience. "And in conclusion..." She lifted her skirt away from her butt and sat down.
Onto a pie Alice had snuck in beneath her. Cream shot out from around her ass and oozed between her legs. Sam wriggled around in it, stuck a finger between her legs, licked the mess off it, and smiled at the audience.
Chloe stood up. "Thank you," she said. "And now, the first speaker for the negative team."
Our first speaker was Donna. For a second I thought she wasn't going to stand, and then she rose and faced the audience, nervous but game.
"Thank you, Madam Speaker," said Donna. "And a good evening to everyone in the audience." She bowed quickly, which got a cheer from some of the audience members. "First of all I would like to acknowledge some excellent points from the affirmative team. However, as that song goes, anything you can do, we can do better."
She still looked a little stiff standing there, so Donna started to walk around. "Pies are rather samey, aren't they? Once you've seen one pie hit, you've seen them all. Whatever happened to variety?"
Her wandering had taken her behind us, so that she was walking up and down the table of messy foods. Now she held up a handful of eggs. "For instance, what about eggs?" she said. "You can throw them or smash them against someone just like a pie."
She transferred two eggs to her right hand and crushed them in my hair. I sat still and felt the yolk and white running down my scalp.
"You can just use egg yolks on their own, for a stickier, more liquid mess," continued Donna. She picked up a jug full of stirred egg yolk, all gloopy and yellow, and poured it over Michelle's head.
Michelle gasped, I think from the unexpected cold, as egg poured over her face and cascaded down her front. The yolk made a sticky puddle in her lap and slowly dripped from her shoulders. Her leather cap drooped down over her face.
"That's not all," continued Donna. "Whip up some egg whites, and soon you've got a meringue." I knew what was coming, and shut my eyes a second before Donna dumped a bowl of meringue over my head.
I'd had this coming since I'd done the same to Michelle last Saturday. The meringue was warm and light, like sticking my head in cotton candy. I felt Donna's hands in the meringue, spreading it down over my shoulders and farms. She rubbed me gently and I licked the meringue from around my mouth.
Donna withdrew. "And that's just one substance. Now take slime. Clearly as classic a substance as the pie." She turned to the table and picked up a large bucket full to the brim with green slime.
"Slime has its own virtues," said Donna. "It allows a more cooperative experience, since you need a more or less willing victim. A messy session with slime isn't as aggressive or one-sided. Audrey here will help demonstrate."
She stood behind me and held the bucket over my head. "Here I have Audrey at my mercy, slime ready to drop." I looked up and mimed shock. "Now she knows I'm here, she can run." I stayed where I was, lowered my head and smiled. "But she's not running. She wants to be slimed. Over the head?" I shook my head, and held my dress out. It was loose against my body to begin with and now you could see my breasts completely. "No - she wants it over her chest. Very saucy." Donna slowly tipped over the bucket until slime began to drop down onto my bare skin. It splatted thickly over my boobs, and piled up in wet mounds against my dress and my lap. I felt the fabric sagging in my skin as slime dripped down over my lap and ran down my legs. I could feel the liquid spreading until it was like I was sitting in slime. Still it ran down my breasts. The sensation brought a flush to my skin. Slime worked its way into the crevices of my body, into my naked crotch. I rubbed my legs together.
Soon I heard slime dripping onto the floor, and Donna tilted the bucket back. I let the dress fall back against my body.
"There's still more," said Donna, more to the audience than to me. "Where do you think she wants it next?"
Several suggestions were shouted from the audience, which I ignored. I stood up, sending a further sheet of slime over my chair and onto the floor, and turned around, sticking my ass out. I bent over further, the slimy front of my dress hanging more than a foot below my chest.
Donna started at my neck. She tilted the bucket, and coated my whole back in slime. First my bare skin, then the thin fabric of my dress, tugging it inexorably downward. When she'd reached my butt Donna lingered, moving the bucket from side to side, making sure every inch was covered. The dress clung to every curve of my skin and I half felt I was naked already down there.
When the back of my dress was completely covered in slime Donna stopped. "Still more slime," she said. "Where do you want the last of it? No wait, don't answer that."
She lifted my dress up from my butt, revealing my bare ass. It was wet with slime, and with my legs slightly parted I knew some of the audience members could see my genitals, but that seemed entirely irrelevant at the moment. I just felt the bliss as Donna poured the last of the slime over my butt. It ran in streaks down my legs, and dripped between my legs. Tiny droplets ran with exquisite slowness over my genitals.
At last Donna was done. She tossed the bucket aside and I sat back down, hearing some cheers from the audience as I did so.
Donna was addressing the audience again, and all signs of her nerves had gone. "Pies limit you in volume," she said. "Choose another substance and you can have as much you want." She turned and picked up an even bigger bucket, one I knew was full of condensed milk. She held it over Michelle's head and tipped the lot over her. Michelle sat still at first as the milk ran down her body, then began to slowly rub her hands up and down her torso. Donna tipped the milk so that it ran out faster and faster, until it was splashing off her body and gushing out over the stage floor. I smelt the sticky sweetness of it. Michelle was becoming more animated, her body writhing and her hands moving up and down her thighs. She tilted her head back and let the milk cleanse her face. Her cap clung soddenly to her head.
Soon the milk ran out and Donna tossed that bucket aside, but it didn't stop Michelle, who kept touching herself, her hands exploring the messy clothes on her body.
Donna sat down beside her. "But I haven't touched on the biggest drawback of pies yet," she said. "Namely, that messy play is a solo pursuit most of the time. Pies just aren't suited to it."
I sat back in my chair, so Donna could be seen better by the audience. I knew what was coming.
Apart from her hands, and some of the milk and slime that had splashed on her chair, she was still clean. "When you do solo messy play," she told the audience, "you want to explore and take things slowly." Without looking she reached one arm behind her and picked up a jug of gravy. Looking intently into the audience, she began to pour it over her top. Occasionally she looked down at herself, as she coated her top, then drizzled gravy down her arms and onto her shorts.
"You want to mess things individually," she told the audience, as she moved the jug over her legs. She drizzled gravy over her thighs, and then opened her knee high socks and dumped some gravy in each. She rubbed the socks against her legs, squelching the gravy inside, then drizzled some more over her white boots.
"You want to work inward to the body," she continued. All the gravy was gone now so she took a bottle of chocolate syrup, pulled open her tank top, and started pouring it inside. Chocolate syrup stained the inside of her tank top and ran down her belly. After a short while she pulled the strap of her tank top down one arm, exposing her pink bra, which she covered in chocolate sauce. She then tugged down the other strap and exposed the other cup of her bra, which she also covered in chocolate sauce.
"This way you allow your excitement to slowly build," she said. Putting the chocolate syrup down she took a can of dairy whip, pulled out one cup of her bra and filled it with cream. She patted it back against her breast then cupped her breast hard, squelching out cream over her chest and neck. She did the same to her other breast, putting in even more cream. When that was done she took both breasts in her hands and rubbed them around and around in a circular motion, opening her mouth and letting us hear her moan. One hand went to her lap and opened the zip on her shorts. She pulled it down halfway, took the can of dairy whip, and squeezed out a large white clump over her groin.
"And you eventually want to act on this excitement," she said. Donna reached behind her and took a bottle of strawberry syrup. She shook it up and down and dumped it in with the cream. As it still fell down her left hand went into the mixture and began kneading, working with the knuckles. I saw her joints tightening, and her fingers moving in the mess, and soon from the position of her hand it was clear to everyone that she was masturbating. Her groin moved forward and her head tilted back, breathing hard and loud. Cream and syrup squelched between her fingers and spattered her thighs. Her unoccupied right hand reached back and took a bottle of cherry syrup. She popped it open, held it over her head, and her body was moving faster and faster. Cherry syrup began to drop down over her hair and face. Donna squealed. "Oh God Oh God Oh God," she moaned.
Finally her pelvis stopped thrusting back and forth. She raised her head, blinked syrup out of her eyes, and took her hand from her groin. It was covered in a pink mixture of cream and strawberry syrup. She brought the hand to her mouth, stuck her middle finger in, and sucked it clean.
"Mmmm," she sighed.
It was obviously the conclusion to her performance, and Chloe was already rising behind the podium. "Thank you," she said. "Now, the second speaker for the affirmative."
Alice stood. She was the messiest of the three waitresses, her top sagging down her chest and ripped down the middle, so that you could see her cream-covered breasts swaying as she moved. There were splotches of pie all over her body, and a thick sticky mound in her hair.
She nodded, slightly stiffly, to Chloe and then to us. "Thank you, Madam Speaker. And thanks also to the speaker for the negative, for her wonderfully demonstrated argument. However, I believe I can illustrate some flaws in her reasoning."
Alice walked around behind her chair and looked over the pies on the table. "Donna made the claim that pies lack variety - but, you can put anything in a pie dish." Her hands, moving over the table, stopped at a pie and picked it up.
"An example." She stood in front of Sam, who sat passively, and pushed the pie tin into her face.
Honey ran thickly down the sides of Sam's face. The tin was full of it, and as honey ran down Sam's neck Alice rubbed the pie tin around Sam's face. Heavy droplets of honey rained down on Sam's uniform, and trickled through her hair. When Alice threw the empty tin aside Sam's face was a golden mask. She sat perfectly still, eyes shut, as honey slowly slid down her front.
"And another example." I'd been focusing on Sam so intently I hadn't seen Alice get another pie. This one, I could see, was full of peanut butter. Alice pushed it into Sam's face, over the honey, and rubbed it up over her hair. Sam opened her mouth, letting honey trickle over her lips, and licked them. Her nose and eyes were hidden in the peanut butter, and she wiped them clean.
Alice was facing the audience again. She had a pie in one hand. "Also," she continued, "Donna would have you believe pies are no good when you're getting messy on your own. Which is obviously false, as otherwise I would take no pleasure in this." And she took the pie and pushed it double handed over her face. Cream oozed out around the edge of the tin as she slowly ground the pie into her face with one hand. She let the tin go, and it dropped slowly to the ground, revealing a face covered by an inch and a half of sloppy pie filling.
Alice didn't even blink her eyes clear. She stood there as Sam and Marie rose beside her. They each turned to the table, picked up a pie, and handed it to Alice. Both pie tins were full of a green paste that looked to me like guacamole. "And I wouldn't take any pleasure in this," she said, a pie in each hand, and smeared them over her torso and shoulders. One pie she moved from side to side over her collarbone, the other she rubbed in between and over her breasts. The uniform was sagging down at her waist.
"Or this," she said, her chest a thick mass of green paste, and she stuck a hand up her skirt and pulled her panties down to her knees. Sam had another pie which she slipped onto Alice's chair, and Alice sat down in it. Cream oozed up between her thighs, and tickled her ass. She wriggled from side to side, and said to the audience, "Donna discounts the intimate nature of pie messy play... ohhhhhh god," she moaned, and she pushed the knuckles of one hand into her crotch, pushing her skirt between her legs. "The way it feels so good against bare skin," she said.
At last she wiped her eyes out with one hand and blinked them open. Beside her Sam was standing facing the audience. She pulled down her panties and stepped out of them, then turned around and flipped her skirt up to her waist. She bent over, legs spread, giving the audience a full view. Alice got to her feet, picked up a tall creamy pie, and planted it firmly on Sam's ass. Sam moaned. Alice rubbed it in, first pushing against the pie tin, then dropping it and rubbing Sam with the palm of her hand, smoothing the cream over her ass. After a few seconds of this Sam straightened, turned around, and pulled her top down to her waist. Her breasts were full and pink, the tops frosted with cream, the undersides clean. Alice took a key lime pie and planted it across one breast. Then she took a banana cream pie and splatted it across her other breast. Sam pulled her top back up over the thick creamy mixture clinging to her breasts and running down her torso. She rubbed her hands over the fabric, pushing in and cupping her breasts, then rubbing the pie mixture around beneath the top. She sighed. As she kept on rubbing Alice took a chocolate pie and planted it over her right breast and hand. Then she took a strawberry cream pie and covered the other breast and hand. Still Sam rubbed and cupped, sighs becoming moans. Alice stepped closer, and put her hands into the sweet mass. Their hands linked. Sam pulled Alice in, their bodies pressing together, guacamole and strawberry and chocolate squelching together. Alice's hands rubbed Sam's shoulders, while Sam moved her hands down her back. Their heads moved close, and Alice stole in for a kiss. Sam's fingers brushed the top of her ass. They moved back and forth in a slow rhythm, and I felt sure Chloe was going to ring her bell for time right there and then. Then Alice pulled back, and Sam, fire suddenly in her eyes, gripped her top with both hands and ripped it off her body. Even with all the pie on her body, her breasts still stood out clearly.
"Another possibility Donna has neglected," Alice said, once again facing the audience, "is that of using pies directly on the genitals." She sat back down in her chair. Her panties still hung soddenly at her knees, and she pushed them right down. She spread her legs, and while we were directly in the field of view the way her skirt sagged with all the cream on it meant her cunt was still hidden from view.
Marie, who must have been jealous at all the attention Sam had been getting, was the one who stood up. She picked up a custard pie, lifted Alice's skirt with one hand, and as Alice looked down she briskly pied her crotch. Alice smiled and put one hand into the yellow mixture, fingers slowly playing with her wet lips. With her free hand she reached behind and took a pie. Marie, standing in front of her, lifted her skirt, revealing mostly clean white panties. Still fingering herself, Alice pulled her hand back and pied Marie's panties, hard.
Alice turned to the audience again. "Another weakness of Donna's argument," she said, fingers still playing in the mess and her voice wavering slightly, "is that she says pies are limited to a particular size and shape."
She stood up, as Marie sat beside her, and bent over the table behind them. She spread her arms wide and gripped something. When she turned around again we all saw her holding a rectangular pie dish, which must have been at least three feet by two feet. It was full of white cream.
"Not so," said Alice. She lifted it up to Marie and tipped it right over her. The top of the tin engulfed her head, while the bottom was planted in her lap. Her arms disappeared - in fact her whole upper body was hidden behind the tin. Great thick globs of cream splattered all over the floor, dripping from Marie's chair, making a silhouette on the floorboards.
Alice slowly pulled the pie tin back from Marie's body. She was covered head to waist in white, like someone who'd been held by the ankles and dipped in a vat of meringue.
Marie's eyes blinked open and she immediately pulled Alice to her, squashing her body in the cream. They kissed and Marie toppled backward, her arms around Alice. Her back was on the chair and Alice moved above her, her clothes sopping wet, cream dripping from their limbs.
As they fondled each other Sam stole up behind them. The pie tin still had a large amount of cream in it, so Sam picked it up, and whacked it onto Alice's back, covering her in cream from her hair to her butt.
It got difficult to see what was happening, there was so much mess. Certainly I saw clothes pulled off and thrown aside. Sam wasn't going to be left out of al the attention, so she pulled the pie dish off Alice's body, and pressed her head into it, running it around to pick up all the last traces of cream. When she lifted it out it was a white ball.
Chloe rang a bell for thirty seconds.
Alice and Marie continued kissing for a little longer, then at last they separated. As they sat back down, it was all I could do not to shake my head in disbelief. Apart from their legs, none of their bare skin was visible. Marie's top was gone, and her breasts rose and fell with her breathing. Alice's skirt was somewhere around her ankles, and I fancied I could see her pubic hair poking out of the cream.
Sam wasn't covered quite so extensively, but her head was wrapped thickly in chocolate and caramel, she was creamy all down her front, and her top was gone too.
"I hope you all see why we think of pies as a very versatile messy substance," Alice told the audience. "But there's one more use our opponents don't seem to have thought of."
She stood up, revealing that she definitely was naked below the waist, and picked up one last pie. She weighed it in her hand, then suddenly looked up at Michelle, and threw the pie.
The pie didn't spin once. With unerring accuracy it struck Michelle flat on the face. The pie exploded over her, and her head rocked back with the unexpected blow.
Michelle was too shocked to do anything at first. Then she wiped her eyes clean and glared at Marie. There was a red heat in her eyes and I felt sure she was going to get to her feet and pummel Marie to a pulp. But she restrained herself, and sat there and took it while the audience cheered and applauded.
Chloe was on her feet again. "Thank you," she said. "Now, second speaker for the negative."
Our next speaker was Michelle. She stood, leaving the rest of the pie on her face. Strangely, she didn't stay there, but walked to the front of the stage and faced the audience directly, legs apart, hands on hips. Milk still dripped from her clothes, and the leather was tight over her body. She ran one finger up her leg, licked it, and smiled at the audience. I knew that smile. It was the smile she had when she knew she was going to win.
"What I enjoy most about messy play," she said to the audience, "is the sensuality." She turned and walked behind me and Donna, one trailing hand caressing our shoulders and faces as she passed.
She picked up a tub of warm butter and scooped a hand in. She bent over Donna and rubbed the thick pat of butter onto her face. Donna tilted her head, and lifted her hands up to touch Michelle's face. Michelle steadily worked her way downward, the oily butter sliding slickly over Donna's skin, and running down the nape of her neck. Michelle's head got lower and lower until she was right over Donna, who extended her tongue and licked Michelle's lips. Michelle returned the favor and their tongues flicked against each other.
As this was going on I got out of my chair, came up behind Michelle and picked up a saucepan full of spaghetti and sauce. Donna was sliding down in her chair, her upper body almost horizontal. Michelle was bent down right over her, and I tipped the spaghetti over her butt. As it ran down her leather skirt I lifted the saucepan, bringing it up her back, coating her leather vest in tomato sauce. There was more left over and I kept on going, pouring spaghetti onto her wet hair, then onto her leather cap. It ran down her face and dripped onto Donna but they just kept kissing and fondling, not even reacting to me. I tipped the last of it in a gush over Michelle's head and slapped her leather miniskirt, grinning.
As the sauce rained down on them Michelle was tugging Donna's bra down to her waist. Red droplets landed in the mounds of cream over her breasts. I put the saucepan down and Michelle came around the front of Donna's chair, sitting down on her thighs. Donna was pulling at her vest, trying to take it off, and Michelle wriggled her shoulders, shrugging out one arm then the next. As she dropped the vest to the floor Donna cupped her breasts through the thin wet fabric of her top, Michelle's nipples clearly visible. Michelle arched her back and moaned, then suddenly dropped down to her knees in front of Donna. She lowered her head to Donna's groin, pulled the zipper of her shorts open and tugged them down to her knees.
I picked up a tub of yogurt. Michelle's mouth was in the creamy strawberry mixture on Donna's groin, and since her back looked relatively clean I poured the yogurt over it. As I'd done before I started at the butt and moved up, leaving a thick trail of yogurt up her spine, before dropping it into her hair. Michelle's tongue was extended, probing deeper into the cream, her face right in it. Donna moaned heavily, her head tossing. I had more yogurt and I kept moving upward, dropping it onto Donna's belly, then up to her breasts.
Like it was an instinctive reaction, Donna's arm shot out and grabbed mine. I was helpless in her iron grip as she pulled me to her. Somehow I found myself pressed directly against Donna, while Michelle's head bumped up against my butt. My dress, already slimy on the inside, got sticky and white with the yogurt. It stuck to Donna's body, held away from my body, and I was conscious of my green slimy breasts moving freely. Donna's hands moved inside and cupped them. I sighed and wanted to return the favor, but I still held onto the tub of yogurt.
I raised it above us, and tipped it over. A thick mound of yogurt splatted onto Donna's head. She sighed and tilted her head back, tongue licking at the yogurt as it fell on her face, her hands still moving inside my dress. I wanted some too so I pulled the tub back and tilted my head up. The last of the yogurt fell onto my face and into my hair.
As yogurt matted my hair I could feel Donna's body melting below mine, and Michelle's head moving back and forth at her groin. I threw the tub aside and moved against Donna, my face pressed to her, her body warm and vibrating beneath me. My hands moved over her breasts as we tongue kissed. Donna's hands were still inside my dress, and she tried to reach further down. Sodden from the mess, my dress ripped all the way down the front. Our breasts pressed together
I felt Michelle's head pull back, and she stood up behind us, her mouth and chin covered in syrup and cream. Immediately we transferred our attention to her: I shifted over to ride in her lap while Donna took a bucket of porridge and tipped it over us. I felt my dress falling in the shower of porridge and Michelle ripped it down more. My hands moved under her groin and cupped her ass, while Michelle's tongue licked at my breasts. I rubbed her through her leather skirt. Porridge dripped from our heads and ran slowly down our chests. I moved back and hooked my fingers into her leather skirt, tugging it down her thighs. She wasn't wearing panties. Donna tipped more porridge directly onto her bare groin, and Michelle rubbed her hands up and down in it.
Donna tipped out the last of the porridge and picked up a bucket of slime. She handed it to Michelle. Michelle tipped it over my head. I moved up and down on her, thighs pumping.
Then she set the still half-full bucket down on the floor. I could hear Chloe ringing for time and I reluctantly got up off Michelle. Donna and I sat down, both topless and covered in a rainbow of mess.
Not bothering to adjust her skirt, Michelle stood up and picked up the slime bucket. "I think that was a very illustrative demonstration of sensuality in messy play," she told the audience. "But I couldn't leave you without one last reason why non-pie mess rules."
She took one step forward and tossed the bucket of slime at Alice.
There was a gap of about seven feet between our chairs, and Michelle had twisted her wrist so that the slime spread in midair, and so it splashed all over Alice. Her face disappeared beneath the slime, eyes pressed tightly shut, and her front was green to her waist. Slime splashed off her breasts and shoulders and struck Sam and Marie.
Slowly, deliberately, Alice wiped her eyes clean. All three of them glared at us. Michelle smirked and sat down.
"Thank you," said Chloe. "Now, the final speaker for the affirmative."
We waited for Marie to stand up, but she didn't. They'd sat still, stony-faced, as we went through the previous performance. The three of them made an interesting lineup: Sam was topless, her skirt still on but no panties underneath. Alice still had her top on, which was smothered in slime, and was naked below the waist, her groin smeared with pie. Marie had her panties on, and nothing else.
At last Marie stood. But instead of giving an opening address, she turned silently and picked up a pie from the table behind them. She stuck her hand into the pie and scooped out a thick wedge of filling and cream, and suddenly I got where this vibe was coming from.
These three women were professional adult entertainers. We'd just spent over three minutes showcasing messy play as a sensual thing - that was what they did every day. If the battle was going to be decided over who could make the most enthusiastic demonstration of arousal, they were going to whip our asses - and the serious looks on their faces told me that's just what they intended to do.
Sure enough, Marie took her pie-covered hand and jammed it into her panties. She sat forward and spread her legs, so that we saw every movement of her fingers through the lacy fabric of her panties. Pie squelched out and ran down her legs as her fingers pushed up and down. She panted heavily and shook her head, hair straggly with pie and cream. Her free hand she brought up to her chest and she pinched one nipple, rapidly jiggling it up and down.
As her hands moved Sam and Alice stood up and took some more pies. Sam pied Marie in the face with a chocolate pie while Alice sandwiched her head with two more pies. Marie's muffled moans could be heard throughout the club. Sam sat down beside Marie and extended her arms to Alice, who sat down in her lap and turned her head so that their mouths met. As they kissed Marie wriggled up beside Sam and pressed her body into Sam's back, one hand still masturbating furiously, the other reaching to the table for another pie. She pied Sam on the top of the head, then took another pie, pied her on the side of the head, and one more pie, which went on the other side of the head. Then Marie reached for the mounds of pie filling stuck on Sam's head, grabbed whole handfuls of them, and massaged them into Sam's breasts. She hooked one leg between Sam and Alice's, her hand still at her crotch. With her free hand she took another handful of cream and moved down to Sam's cunt.
Sam and Alice still kissed, Sam's hands rubbing up and down Alice's slimy top, Alice's hands rubbing her groin. Sam suddenly tugged Alice's top down and brought her head around to lick at the side of her breast. Alice moved to one side to give Sam better access, and quickly brought her hands up from her crotch and grabbed two more pies. She slammed them onto her breast, then put a hand on the back of Sam's head and shoved it into the mess. As Sam licked and sucked, swallowing little pieces of pie filling, Alice grabbed another pie, and hit Marie in the face.
Marie was kneading Sam's groin, and trying unsuccessfully to lift her skirt. Now she grabbed the waistband with both hands and ripped. It came apart in her hands and she tossed it aside. She ran her hands up and down Sam's butt, then let her fingers glide underneath. She lifted Sam up and pulled her legs apart.
This caused Sam to move forward. Alice twisted around and then lay down on the chairs. Sam collapsed forward and now they were in a sixty-nine position. Immediately they dove their faces into each other's messy crotch, slurping and sucking. Mess ran down their legs.
Marie picked up a pie and slapped it right down the middle of Sam's ass. Cream splatted thickly across Alice's nose and forehead. Marie took another pie and moved to Alice's crotch. She lifted Sam's head up and pied here full in the face. Sam reached out, and pulled down Marie's panties. She took a pie and planted it onto Marie's pristine bush. Marie handed her another pie, and Sam pushed it down between Alice's spread legs, smearing cream into her cunt. Then Sam reached for Marie and pulled her close. Marie stepped inside Alice's legs and rubbed her bush against Alice's cunt while Marie and Sam kissed, Alice still slurping between Sam's legs.
Their bodies were now wound tightly together, moving and writhing like a three part machine, squelching and panting. It was hard for them to pick up more pies but Sam managed to snag some, more or less by touch, and she pied Marie's head and back, and then her butt. She fondled her ass crack while Alice pulled her legs apart and fingered her. Marie had handfuls of pie filling in her hand and she rubbed it over her breasts, then over Sam's. All three of them were moaning in unison.
At last Sam got up off Alice and they all separated. As a final touch, Marie picked up two pies, smiled blissfully, and slowly ground the pies into the motionless, placidly willing faces of Sam and Alice.
In turn they each picked up a pie and sandwiched Marie's face.
Their heads had practically disappeared beneath pie. Marie turned to the audience, and said, "We rest our case." Only when she sat down did they all wipe out their eyes.
I could feel moisture between my legs.
Chloe stood. "Thank you," she said. "Now, the final speaker for the negative."
My dress was open all down my front, and if you were close you could probably see my pubic hair, but I didn't care. I looked at Donna: her top and bra were around her waist, her shorts were gone. Her genitals obscured by mess. She still had on her striped knee-high socks. Michelle was practically naked in her dark gauzy top, fishnet stockings, heels and damp leather cap. I smiled at them.
"Madam Speaker, thank you," I said loudly, and turned to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, our argument is simple. Messy play is all about getting totally messy. And we're going to prove our case by showing how much messier we can get than the team for the affirmative."
by ghilton » 28 Nov 2007, 13:16
(cont)
I looked meaningfully at the table behind Donna and Michelle, so the audience got a chance to see just how many buckets were on it. I walked behind Michelle, and picked up a bucket full of chocolate batter. I lifted it over Michelle and tipped it over. Batter slowly ran down Michelle's face, pooling thickly in her hair and on her shoulders and breasts. Michelle looked annoyed but sat still as her face disappeared behind a brown curtain of batter. I moved the bucket from side to side, making sure to cover her arms in batter, and kept pouring until her whole front was a sheet of brown and batter piled up in her lap. It was dripping from her chair and making a puddle on the floor.
I tossed the bucket aside and picked up the next: ketchup. This I poured over Donna's head. She sat patiently as I doused her breasts in sauce, and ran ketchup down her legs. It slopped rapidly onto the floor.
When the ketchup ran out I tossed that bucket aside, and suddenly Donna and Michelle were standing. They grabbed me by the arms and forced me, struggling, onto my chair. "No please, allow us to demonstrate," said Michelle, and they both picked up buckets. Immediately treacle began to rain down on my head while Michelle tipped her bucket of golden syrup down my front. The treacle weighted down my head, lowering my gaze so that I saw the syrup turning my breasts golden. I ran my hands over them while the weight of the syrup pulled my dress completely off my body. Some fabric remained trapped under my legs, but I was otherwise nude. I was hardly aware of it, as my head was being submerged in black, thick sweetness in my nostrils.
I made a grab for Michelle's top, and got it in one hand. The fabric ripped as I pulled it back, and it fell to the floor in one motion. Her chest was streaked with gunge but in comparison to everything else looked clean.
Donna already had another bucket. She brought up over my head but Michelle let me up and we grabbed it off her. I set the bucket down on my chair and we forced Donna's head down into it. It was full of raw eggs. After a second we let her up and as she gasped for breath, spitting out white and yolk, we picked the bucket up and doused her front in eggs.
Donna grabbed for Michelle's breasts and the two of them wrestled over each other, rolling in the mess on the floor. I picked up a bucket full of noodles and sweet-and-sour sauce, and dumped it unceremoniously over the two.
I reached for another bucket and this one was full of peanut butter. As they kept wrestling and grabbing each other I took handfuls of peanut butter and threw it at them. I splatted peanut butter onto they bare buttocks, on their necks, their legs, throwing faster and faster, coating their faces and their arms.
This at last got them disentangled and they rose, turning on me. The bucket of peanut butter was still half full and a frenzied battle ensued, everyone grabbing as much peanut butter as they could and hurling it at each other with terrific force. I got a double handful and slammed it onto Michelle's head. I felt someone grinding peanut butter into my groin. Donna had her eye on Michelle's bare chest and kept throwing into it. I realized that we were all laughing.
At last we were out of peanut butter. We stopped wriggling over each other and stood up.
I faced Chloe, naked as the day I was born, my ass pointing at the audience, stained and sticky with whatever I'd been rolling in on the floor. Our bodies actually looked heavier, there was so much food stuck to us. "I think we've made our point," I said. Michelle stepped out of her heels and pulled off her fishnet stockings. Donna rolled down her socks. "But there's one final demonstration to be made."
We were all naked now, and we each picked up a bucket. We held them below our breasts.
I looked at the waitresses and said, "I don't think they look messy enough."
And we rushed them, buckets raised. I ran at Sam while Michelle took Alice, and Donna went for Marie. My bucket was full of tomato pulp. Michelle's was full of a rich pungent bolognaise sauce. Donna's was full of dark borsch.
The waitresses weren't expecting this and they shrieked, but they didn't have time to move before we threw our buckets over them. I splashed tomato pulp all down Sam's front. Michelle emptied her bucket over Alice in one throw and kept running. Donna rained borsch down over Marie's head.
Sam was rising to her feet as I poured tomato pulp over her head. Beside me Michelle crashed into Alice and carried her backward, her chair tipping beneath her. They fell on top of the table. With a loud crack one of the legs went and pies slid down to the floor at the feet of the waitresses.
I stood there and poured tomato pulp over Sam as she reached down for one and suddenly there was pie in my face. Marie grabbed Donna's bucket and pushed it back, pouring borsch down her front. Alice and Michelle wrestled on the floor, Alice pieing Michelle in the face, Michelle pieing her back and rolling her over more pies.
The fight had been joined. Sam grabbed another pie and hit me in the face again, and I threw the bucket aside. None of us were wearing any clothes so the only way we could retaliate was with more pies. Donna flung the last of her bucket at Maria and then made a grab for a pie. Marie already had two and she pelted them at Donna's body. As I looked I felt a pie explode over my groin. Michelle knelt above Alice and pied her chest, and Alice picked up two pies and sandwiched her head.
I pulled Sam down to the floor where the pies were and now it was impossible to tell who was doing what to whom. We hit each other with the last of the pies, and then picked food off the floor and smeared it on each other's faces and breasts. I saw someone get up from the mass of bodies and moments later someone was pouring custard over my head. My hand was between someone's legs. I felt lips on my cunt.
I was totally disoriented now. Someone's groin presented itself at my face and I sucked at her clit. Someone else's warm body pressed down on mine. There was a pat of butter in my hand somehow and I smeared it over the bare, gunge-coated breasts of Alice. Those lips were still sucking at my cunt.
Michelle had someone's head between her breasts and Donna poured a bucket of pumpkin soup over them. The waitress wriggled free, and I saw it was Marie. She pulled Michelle forward and splatted her head flat into a honey pie.
Now someone pulled at my legs. I wriggled around and tried to get on top of whoever it was. Her body slid smoothly over mine, it felt like she'd been dipped in oil. I couldn't see any mess to hand, so I looked at her - it was Sam - and grabbed her arms. Sam's movement was as violent as ever, but she wasn't fighting me any more. I saw a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. I bent forward and sucked at her breasts. Sweet cream coated my tongue.
Alice and Donna were fingering each other, while Michelle and Marie sucked at the food on each other's body. My tongue worked up and down Sam's breasts, while she rubbed her hand over my groin and occasionally licked her fingers. I felt the muscles at my groin loosening, fluid seeping out through the mess.
Gradually, I became aware of the fact that Chloe had been ringing the bell for at least a minute. The cheers of the audience were at fever pitch.
We slowly, reluctantly, pulled apart from each other. Sam smiled gently at me. We'd overcome their resistance and the six of us felt like a team now.
As we struggled to our feet we got a better look at the carnage. Most of the chairs were overturned. The table behind the waitresses was a splintery wreck and pies were piled up in stacks. The floor was smeared in food from one side of the stage to the other.
"Well," said Chloe, "it's been a very entertaining, hard-fought debate."
We were returning to our original positions, but we weren't sitting down. I reached for a bucket. Sam knelt down and picked up two pies.
Chloe looked nervously from left to right, her eyes flicking rapidly. "Of course, there can only be one winner," she said. All of the waitresses had pies now, and Michelle and Donna had buckets too. We turned and advanced on her.
Chloe swallowed, and you could see she was realizing she couldn't declare a loser without being gunged within an inch of her life. In her spotless waitress uniform, dinner jacket, and top hat, she looked a ripe target.
"However, this has been such a special night," she stammered, "I'm happy to announce that the result is-"
We were surrounding her, the waitresses with their pies at the ready, our buckets raised and looming over her head.
Chloe blurted out, "It's a tie!"
Then she squealed and ducked her head as we attacked her simultaneously from six angles. Marie sandwiched her head, Sam slapped pies on her crotch and her ass while Alice got her breasts. I threw chocolate sauce down her front as Donna and Michelle poured batter and syrup onto her head. She was covered instantly and even as Donna and Michelle continued to pour two of the waitresses had gone for more pies. Her top hat was buckling under the weight of the gunge and I batted it off her head, syrup and batter plastering her hair to her skull. Still she shrieked as her face disappeared under a pie, and Marie held open her top while Sam pied her breasts. Michelle knelt down and pulled her skirt, heavy with cream, down to the floor. She grabbed Chloe by the legs and lifted them up, Donna holding her messy head. Alice had two more pies and she ground them into Chloe's groin, then we flipped her over and I poured a bucket of syrup over her back. Her lacy panties had gone transparent and I pulled them down. Maria pied her butt.
Michelle was still on the floor and now she reached up for Chloe's jacket and pulled it off. We gradually lowered Chloe down on top of her, and Sam pied Michelle in the face. We were all collapsing inward, on top of Chloe, rubbing at her skin, caressing the mess, spreading it over her body.
Now a cord dropped from the ceiling and dangled above us. Chloe still had one hand free and as a final gesture she tugged at the cord.
A three-by-three grid of gunge nozzles, embedded in the ceiling, opened above us. Nine streams of gunge rained down on our bodies, each a different color, and Chloe fell back and let us fondle her. I felt the gunge raining down on my hair, and as I knelt forward it splashed down my back, warm and thick. The gunge slowly built up between our bodies, a sweet pool we splashed and writhed in. My eyes were shut and gunge blocked my ears - the audience simply didn't exist any more. Our bodies were a mass of arms and breasts and genitals and legs tumbling and rolling over each other, in a pool of gunge that just kept on piling up and up.
Somehow, in the middle of everything, I found Chloe, lying back with her head half submerged in gunge. I cupped her head in my hands and her eyes flicked open, as if she knew my touch.
She looked up at me, gunge dripping from my hair, and she smiled. "Thank you," she said. I lowered my face to hers, and as we were submerged in the gunge we kissed.
THE END
I looked meaningfully at the table behind Donna and Michelle, so the audience got a chance to see just how many buckets were on it. I walked behind Michelle, and picked up a bucket full of chocolate batter. I lifted it over Michelle and tipped it over. Batter slowly ran down Michelle's face, pooling thickly in her hair and on her shoulders and breasts. Michelle looked annoyed but sat still as her face disappeared behind a brown curtain of batter. I moved the bucket from side to side, making sure to cover her arms in batter, and kept pouring until her whole front was a sheet of brown and batter piled up in her lap. It was dripping from her chair and making a puddle on the floor.
I tossed the bucket aside and picked up the next: ketchup. This I poured over Donna's head. She sat patiently as I doused her breasts in sauce, and ran ketchup down her legs. It slopped rapidly onto the floor.
When the ketchup ran out I tossed that bucket aside, and suddenly Donna and Michelle were standing. They grabbed me by the arms and forced me, struggling, onto my chair. "No please, allow us to demonstrate," said Michelle, and they both picked up buckets. Immediately treacle began to rain down on my head while Michelle tipped her bucket of golden syrup down my front. The treacle weighted down my head, lowering my gaze so that I saw the syrup turning my breasts golden. I ran my hands over them while the weight of the syrup pulled my dress completely off my body. Some fabric remained trapped under my legs, but I was otherwise nude. I was hardly aware of it, as my head was being submerged in black, thick sweetness in my nostrils.
I made a grab for Michelle's top, and got it in one hand. The fabric ripped as I pulled it back, and it fell to the floor in one motion. Her chest was streaked with gunge but in comparison to everything else looked clean.
Donna already had another bucket. She brought up over my head but Michelle let me up and we grabbed it off her. I set the bucket down on my chair and we forced Donna's head down into it. It was full of raw eggs. After a second we let her up and as she gasped for breath, spitting out white and yolk, we picked the bucket up and doused her front in eggs.
Donna grabbed for Michelle's breasts and the two of them wrestled over each other, rolling in the mess on the floor. I picked up a bucket full of noodles and sweet-and-sour sauce, and dumped it unceremoniously over the two.
I reached for another bucket and this one was full of peanut butter. As they kept wrestling and grabbing each other I took handfuls of peanut butter and threw it at them. I splatted peanut butter onto they bare buttocks, on their necks, their legs, throwing faster and faster, coating their faces and their arms.
This at last got them disentangled and they rose, turning on me. The bucket of peanut butter was still half full and a frenzied battle ensued, everyone grabbing as much peanut butter as they could and hurling it at each other with terrific force. I got a double handful and slammed it onto Michelle's head. I felt someone grinding peanut butter into my groin. Donna had her eye on Michelle's bare chest and kept throwing into it. I realized that we were all laughing.
At last we were out of peanut butter. We stopped wriggling over each other and stood up.
I faced Chloe, naked as the day I was born, my ass pointing at the audience, stained and sticky with whatever I'd been rolling in on the floor. Our bodies actually looked heavier, there was so much food stuck to us. "I think we've made our point," I said. Michelle stepped out of her heels and pulled off her fishnet stockings. Donna rolled down her socks. "But there's one final demonstration to be made."
We were all naked now, and we each picked up a bucket. We held them below our breasts.
I looked at the waitresses and said, "I don't think they look messy enough."
And we rushed them, buckets raised. I ran at Sam while Michelle took Alice, and Donna went for Marie. My bucket was full of tomato pulp. Michelle's was full of a rich pungent bolognaise sauce. Donna's was full of dark borsch.
The waitresses weren't expecting this and they shrieked, but they didn't have time to move before we threw our buckets over them. I splashed tomato pulp all down Sam's front. Michelle emptied her bucket over Alice in one throw and kept running. Donna rained borsch down over Marie's head.
Sam was rising to her feet as I poured tomato pulp over her head. Beside me Michelle crashed into Alice and carried her backward, her chair tipping beneath her. They fell on top of the table. With a loud crack one of the legs went and pies slid down to the floor at the feet of the waitresses.
I stood there and poured tomato pulp over Sam as she reached down for one and suddenly there was pie in my face. Marie grabbed Donna's bucket and pushed it back, pouring borsch down her front. Alice and Michelle wrestled on the floor, Alice pieing Michelle in the face, Michelle pieing her back and rolling her over more pies.
The fight had been joined. Sam grabbed another pie and hit me in the face again, and I threw the bucket aside. None of us were wearing any clothes so the only way we could retaliate was with more pies. Donna flung the last of her bucket at Maria and then made a grab for a pie. Marie already had two and she pelted them at Donna's body. As I looked I felt a pie explode over my groin. Michelle knelt above Alice and pied her chest, and Alice picked up two pies and sandwiched her head.
I pulled Sam down to the floor where the pies were and now it was impossible to tell who was doing what to whom. We hit each other with the last of the pies, and then picked food off the floor and smeared it on each other's faces and breasts. I saw someone get up from the mass of bodies and moments later someone was pouring custard over my head. My hand was between someone's legs. I felt lips on my cunt.
I was totally disoriented now. Someone's groin presented itself at my face and I sucked at her clit. Someone else's warm body pressed down on mine. There was a pat of butter in my hand somehow and I smeared it over the bare, gunge-coated breasts of Alice. Those lips were still sucking at my cunt.
Michelle had someone's head between her breasts and Donna poured a bucket of pumpkin soup over them. The waitress wriggled free, and I saw it was Marie. She pulled Michelle forward and splatted her head flat into a honey pie.
Now someone pulled at my legs. I wriggled around and tried to get on top of whoever it was. Her body slid smoothly over mine, it felt like she'd been dipped in oil. I couldn't see any mess to hand, so I looked at her - it was Sam - and grabbed her arms. Sam's movement was as violent as ever, but she wasn't fighting me any more. I saw a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. I bent forward and sucked at her breasts. Sweet cream coated my tongue.
Alice and Donna were fingering each other, while Michelle and Marie sucked at the food on each other's body. My tongue worked up and down Sam's breasts, while she rubbed her hand over my groin and occasionally licked her fingers. I felt the muscles at my groin loosening, fluid seeping out through the mess.
Gradually, I became aware of the fact that Chloe had been ringing the bell for at least a minute. The cheers of the audience were at fever pitch.
We slowly, reluctantly, pulled apart from each other. Sam smiled gently at me. We'd overcome their resistance and the six of us felt like a team now.
As we struggled to our feet we got a better look at the carnage. Most of the chairs were overturned. The table behind the waitresses was a splintery wreck and pies were piled up in stacks. The floor was smeared in food from one side of the stage to the other.
"Well," said Chloe, "it's been a very entertaining, hard-fought debate."
We were returning to our original positions, but we weren't sitting down. I reached for a bucket. Sam knelt down and picked up two pies.
Chloe looked nervously from left to right, her eyes flicking rapidly. "Of course, there can only be one winner," she said. All of the waitresses had pies now, and Michelle and Donna had buckets too. We turned and advanced on her.
Chloe swallowed, and you could see she was realizing she couldn't declare a loser without being gunged within an inch of her life. In her spotless waitress uniform, dinner jacket, and top hat, she looked a ripe target.
"However, this has been such a special night," she stammered, "I'm happy to announce that the result is-"
We were surrounding her, the waitresses with their pies at the ready, our buckets raised and looming over her head.
Chloe blurted out, "It's a tie!"
Then she squealed and ducked her head as we attacked her simultaneously from six angles. Marie sandwiched her head, Sam slapped pies on her crotch and her ass while Alice got her breasts. I threw chocolate sauce down her front as Donna and Michelle poured batter and syrup onto her head. She was covered instantly and even as Donna and Michelle continued to pour two of the waitresses had gone for more pies. Her top hat was buckling under the weight of the gunge and I batted it off her head, syrup and batter plastering her hair to her skull. Still she shrieked as her face disappeared under a pie, and Marie held open her top while Sam pied her breasts. Michelle knelt down and pulled her skirt, heavy with cream, down to the floor. She grabbed Chloe by the legs and lifted them up, Donna holding her messy head. Alice had two more pies and she ground them into Chloe's groin, then we flipped her over and I poured a bucket of syrup over her back. Her lacy panties had gone transparent and I pulled them down. Maria pied her butt.
Michelle was still on the floor and now she reached up for Chloe's jacket and pulled it off. We gradually lowered Chloe down on top of her, and Sam pied Michelle in the face. We were all collapsing inward, on top of Chloe, rubbing at her skin, caressing the mess, spreading it over her body.
Now a cord dropped from the ceiling and dangled above us. Chloe still had one hand free and as a final gesture she tugged at the cord.
A three-by-three grid of gunge nozzles, embedded in the ceiling, opened above us. Nine streams of gunge rained down on our bodies, each a different color, and Chloe fell back and let us fondle her. I felt the gunge raining down on my hair, and as I knelt forward it splashed down my back, warm and thick. The gunge slowly built up between our bodies, a sweet pool we splashed and writhed in. My eyes were shut and gunge blocked my ears - the audience simply didn't exist any more. Our bodies were a mass of arms and breasts and genitals and legs tumbling and rolling over each other, in a pool of gunge that just kept on piling up and up.
Somehow, in the middle of everything, I found Chloe, lying back with her head half submerged in gunge. I cupped her head in my hands and her eyes flicked open, as if she knew my touch.
She looked up at me, gunge dripping from my hair, and she smiled. "Thank you," she said. I lowered my face to hers, and as we were submerged in the gunge we kissed.
THE END
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