The Painting Party

[Richard]

This is the first story I posted on my Yahoo Group
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/saucystories/
It takes the form of a 'letter' from a young female acquaintance.
_
Hi there! Its Susan here with another of my adventures. Those of you who haven’t met me before might like to know a bit about me before I start. As my friends out there already know, I am twenty-two years old, about 5’ 6” tall and fairly slim. People sometimes ask what size my bust is but I’m afraid I can’t give you an accurate answer to that, as it’s a secret known only to my current boyfriend (whoever he happens to be at the moment). Everyone says that I have very nice tits though; small, but perfectly formed, firm and just made to be handled, and since I never wear a bra, they often are! Anyway, I’ve often heard it said that anything more than a mouthful is wasted. I would agree with that, although my favourite mouthful is usually further down the body (and on a body of a completely different gender to my own.)

That’s enough about me, now I must tell you about a party that I went to the other day. One of the guys that I work with, (his name is Peter, and he is quite a dish) had just moved into a new flat and needed to get some decorating done. He had the brilliant idea to throw a ‘flat painting party’, so he invited his mate Brian, also my friend Joanne and me, and told us to wear some old clothes in case they got splashed with paint.

Well Joanne and I had a chat and decided that we should look a bit smart if we were going to a party. After all you don’t want to let yourself down in company, do you? So I chose a short, yellow, wrap-around skirt and a white blouse with lacy bits round the top and buttons down the front. I also had on a white suspender set, holding up my pale lemon coloured stockings. The fastening of the skirt at the waistband was a bit dodgy but I thought that it would probably be all right. Joanne put on a white, knee length dress decorated with lots of little red flowers. It looked very pretty and had quite a low neckline to emphasise her cleavage. She has bigger tits than me, but still manages without a bra. The rest of her outfit was white stockings and suspenders and tiny white lace tanga briefs.

When we arrived at the flat we were both very impressed. It was huge and all open-plan with no individual rooms as such, as it had been converted from an old warehouse. There was a shower in one corner, set in a large tiled area, but no sign of a curtain, then a loo, which was concealed behind a partition. Peter’s bed (a very impressive king-size job) was in another corner, but apart from that there was hardly any furniture except for a large trestle table laden with drinks and all sorts of delicious looking foods including jellies, trifles and cream cakes.

Brian was already there and was sorting out numerous pots of paint in the middle of the floor. Us girls hadn’t met him before so Peter introduced us. As we were shaking hands, I couldn’t help noticing Brian looking down the top of Joanne’s dress, and eyeing up my somewhat smaller breasts. I know my top was slightly see-through but I didn’t think it was that obvious, but I expect it was just the bumps made by my nipples that he was looking at. I’m always having that trouble!

After the introductions we had a few glasses of wine, then set to work. There was quite a lot of exposed pipe-work, dating back to when it was a warehouse, and I was told to paint it a deep red colour as it was to be a feature of the decor. I got so absorbed in this task that I became oblivious of everything else, until I noticed that instead of a pipe, I was painting an arm! Peter had been leaning against one of the pipes and I had carried on painting the sleeve of his green shirt. Oops!

He wasn’t really cross with me, but a glint came into his eye and he said that I had to be punished. I was led over to the table and made to stand on a wooden box so that my waist was on about the same level as his head. After announcing that he was going to fill my knickers with custard, he started to lift the hem of my skirt. I thought that this was going to be very funny, as I knew something that he didn’t, so I let him carry on. When he had raised the skirt to the level of my waist he discovered that his fiendish plan was thwarted.

No knickers! Just my slit with its attendant patch of black hair, all framed tastefully by my white suspenders. Both of the lads seemed mesmerised by the sight and just stared at my pubes as if they had never seen a woman’s cunt before. Joanne broke the spell by starting to giggle at them and Brian also thought that it was hilariously funny but Peter was not to be denied his revenge. Grabbing a handful of cream trifle from one of the bowls he smeared it all over my pubes and rubbed it in to such effect that at least two of his fingers slipped past my lips and into my pussy. Joanne then came to my aid by handing me a paper plate laden with Black Forest Gateau, which I promptly upended onto Peter’s head and smeared it down over his face. That stopped him in his tracks and he ceased to rub my crotch with the cream, but as he staggered back he took my skirt with him, (damn that faulty catch!) and leaving me in just my top. Meanwhile Joanne had passed up to me a big pink cream pie, laden with cherries, to add to the chocolate on Peter’s head. But I thought that enough was enough (and he was out of range anyway), so I tipped it up onto Joanne’s head instead. She has blond hair and it made a super mess. I’ve heard of a strawberry blond but never a cherry cream one.

Just then I felt a strange sticky, tickling sensation on my buttocks. Wondering what was happening I looked over my shoulder, only to discover that Brian had a large brush in his hand and was busily painting my bum the most horrible shade of orange! Well, really! Orange is simply NOT my colour.

I just had to do something about it. Fortunately he had just emptied the paint from the brush by running it along the crack of my arse so that a large quantity of the slimy orange stuff ran down the inside of my thighs and the backs of my legs. I say fortunately because he had to turn his back on me to refill the brush and this gave me my opportunity. Peter had also noticed his friend’s lack of taste, (Peter is an artist and has a good eye for colours) so he handed me an open can of blue paint. As I was holding this in one hand and had grabbed the back of Brian’s shirt collar with the other hand, I poured the whole contents of the can down inside the back of his white shirt. Some of it spread in a big blue patch across his back, (quite pretty actually) but most of it gathered in a puddle around his waist. It was unable to get any further due to the waistband of his trousers, but I soon fixed that by pulling the back of his pants so that it could run freely over his arse. Let’s see how he likes it, I thought.

Satisfied with my work there, I turned back round but collided head-on with a large cream pie which was wielded by Joanne in revenge for the one I had put onto her head. This caused me to totally lose my balance and I fell on top of Brian in a confusion of paint, cream and flying limbs. Brian recovered quickly and very gallantly helped me to my feet, but I did wonder why it was necessary for him to put his hand between my legs in order to steady me. I was still a little unsteady, maybe because of Brian’s wandering fingers, but Peter took charge and, taking me by the shoulders, he sat me down firmly on the box. Don’t worry, there was no chance of splinters in my delicate bits as Joanne had very thoughtfully positioned a sticky toffee gateau as a cushion for me to sit on.

Now ladies, those of you who have had the good fortune to sit in a sticky toffee gateau whilst knickerless, will know what I’m talking about when I say that it is an incredible experience which should be enjoyed by everyone. Just the memory of that moment causes me to become quite damp and I’m squirming in my seat as I write this! That reminds me, I must go to the supermarket and stock up on cream cakes as some friends may be coming round tomorrow, and you never know what might happen, do you?

Where was I? Oh yes, Peter thought that Joanne’s action was excessive (I didn’t) and on my behalf, he emptied a jug of liquid cream down her cleavage, then used his hands to rub it all over her tits, no doubt copping a good feel in the process! Brian also joined in on my side and lifted her dress up, revealing her little lacy panties.

At last Peter had his chance to fill a pair of knickers with custard. He set to work with a will and soon had emptied about four pints of the gooey liquid into them. Although much of it escaped through the leg holes and ran in rivulets down the insides of her thighs and down her white stockings, I began to wonder how long her pants would stand the weight. Good old Brian came to the rescue by supporting the custard sodden gusset, and trying to relieve the pressure by massaging with his fingers so that the goo was dissipated into all the crevices of Joanne’s cunt. Unfortunately he was a bit overenthusiastic and ended up with just a handful of ragged lace while poor Joanne was left as naked below the waist as I was.

By this time I had managed to recover my composure, but was unable to prevent Peter from grabbing the front of my blouse and tearing it open, buttons flying everywhere. Picking up a plateful of spaghetti, piled high with a red sloppy concoction which I assumed was Bolognese sauce, he proceeded to smear it over my bare tits, causing my nipples to become hard as I found it quite a turn-on.

Now, apart from the chocolate on his head and the painted sleeve, Peter was still quite clean. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans with quite a promising bulge at the front, so I undid the button of the waistband and pulled the zip down an inch or two so that I could pour some maple syrup inside. After doing so, I was just about to readjust his clothes, when Joanne grabbed the waistband from the back and pulled sharply, so that she could shove an oily pizza down the back of his jeans and rub it in all over his arse. This caused the zip to fly open all the way down. I was worried that it might have caught and hurt his cock so I put my hand inside and felt around. However, apart from being sticky with the syrup, all seemed to be in working order,(it was getting firmer by the second as I held it), but I was quite cross with Joanne and she came to have a look for herself. She pulled his dick right out of his jeans and after satisfying herself that it was ok she took some raspberries from a bowl, stuck them along the shaft, then proceeded to eat them one by one by licking them up with her tongue. What a pervert, I thought! But maybe it was just jealousy on my part, because when she offered me a turn I accepted with alacrity and was soon chewing happily on not just the raspberries but the end of his tool as well!

Joanne obviously liked this activity because, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that she had turned her attention to Brian and had relieved him of his trousers and underpants. They were white boxers except where my earlier efforts had stained them with blue paint. (Peter had not been wearing any pants; he’s such a bohemian artist type.) As a variation, Joanne was now using chocolate sauce as an adhesive and gluing halved strawberries along Brian’s dick. She can be quite inventive when she tries. It looked so delicious that I had to have a taste, while Joanne returned to munch on Peter’s goodies.

Although by this time we were all laughing hysterically and all thoughts of decorating had evaporated, I was feeling very sexy, so I gave Brian a long sloppy kiss. We were both nude, and we soon found ourselves locked together on the floor, writhing in a sea of food and paint, with his hard cock probing at the lips of my cunt. A little adjustment and it was inside me, and there it stayed for ages, with just the minimum of movement, just the inner walls of my vagina gently milking him until we could hold out no longer and both came in a shattering climax.

Joanne and Peter were similarly engaged, and afterwards we all joined together in a group hug. Eventually we adjourned to the shower and helped each other to clean ourselves up. Plenty of opportunities there for some mutual groping, before we all drifted away into the huge bed and spent a very satisfying night. The night was not entirely uninterrupted, as various couplings took place before the morning, and we all took the following day off work to continue our lovemaking.

Peter eventually called in a firm of decorators to finish off the flat.


There are plenty more if you join the group. OK, so it's a blatant plug!
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/saucystories/

[DecadentDoll]

not such a blatant plug, cos you did share a story with us!

i liked this, i like your writing style got me a little excited i have to say hehe

dd x x x

[Richard]

Thank you for your kind comments, DD; we writers appreciate feedback, good or bad, as it can improve the 'product'. Regarding 'style', I am very particular about spelling and grammar as I believe that it makes the story more intelligible. In the plotlines I like to give my characters some sexual satisfaction during or after their messy abuse!

I don't want to sound pretentious but I like to think that I have been influenced in some small way by the 'Greats' of literature whose works I was forced to study whilst at college and only now appreciate fully.

Richard.

ps. Read 'The Trial', it features you!

[danoweb]

Great story, this is really one of my favorites!