Nancy's Surprise

[Marion]

This will make sense as a stand-alone, but it’s going to be more fun if you have read my other stories first.
For those in a hurry: two pages of talking then 11 pages of fucking. Scroll on down.

Nancy slips back into our bed carefully cradling two mugs of tea, and props herself up on pillows beside me. I smile at her as I wrap my fingers around the warm mug and she leans in delicately to be kissed. We manage not to spill the tea.

“Melissa…” she begins, and suddenly she has my full attention. She only uses my whole name when she’s going to say something important.

“I read your stories. I’m so sorry: the window was open on the laptop and I’d read most of first one before I realized you must have written it yourself. I’m really sorry.”

It takes a few seconds for my stupid brain to process exactly what she’s said. Stories? Oh: wet and messy sex stories. About 50 pages worth. Oh my god. This is awful. Those stories were total and utter filth. Kinky filth. Kinky filth I’d written about she and I fucking in the…

“Oh god Nancy I’msosorry…”

“Don’t be. I knew I shouldn’t have looked without your permission. I shouldn’t have started to read them; but then I just couldn’t stop - because it was so fucking HOT – then I saw my name and realised that this wasn’t just something you’d been browsing.”

“Oh Nance I’m so, so sorry. The profile is totally anonymous, I promise, no one can link it to us. But I shouldn’t have used your name at all. I was just..”

I trail off hoplessly. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears and I’m not taking anything in. What have I done? I can’t even look at my girlfriend. This is not how I would have like to introduce her to my… to my Fetish. Oh god – the things I wrote! Shame bows me down like a physical force as my vision clouds with tears. Oh shit I cannot be crying. This is too much. Damage limitation – that’s what I should be doing. Imagine what Nancy’s feeling and here I am starting to fucking cry and…

And she slips her arms around me and holds me close, my cheek against her soft neck.

“It’s ok Liss. Liss, look at me.”

I lean back to look up at her face but I can’t meet her gaze. Bizarrely, she’s smiling. She strokes her fingers through my hair and then tenderly lifts my chin, bringing us eye to eye.

“I loved them, Lisss. Your stories. The mud, the mess – no, look at me, it’s OK – I got soaking wet reading them.”

I feel my eyes widen, but I don’t realise that I’m literally staring open-mouthed until her finger, still under my chin, gently shuts it.

“I think I get why you didn’t tell me. But now that I know, I want to know everything. Have you always been into messy sex?”

I nod mutely and she nuzzles her body even closer to me, stretching her warm leg to rest next to mine under the bedclothes.

“Have you ever tried it? With your exes I mean…”

I cut her off with a definitive shake of the head.

“No. I’ve never told anyone. I’m so ashamed.”
“You shouldn’t be you know. The things you wrote! My god, I couldn’t make it all the way to the end without touching myself. Oh god, the bit where we’re just sliding naked all over each other in the mudbath: Oh god!”

She shudders and bucks her hips into me. She’s aroused. But that’s impossible, isn’t it? I’ve been caught. She should be outraged and disgusted. She… She leans in and starts to softly bite my neck.

“I want to try it together,” she whispers in my ear between her kisses. “I want you to get me very, very dirty. I want to fuck you in the dirtiest way possible. ”

Thankfully my body knows what to do next. My mind seems to have floated free of its moorings and drifted away.
***
She’s been planning all week and she won’t even give me a clue. She just tells me that my dirty stories have given her all the inspiration she needed. Honestly, I’m a tiny bit uncomfortable with that. I’ve been watching her take heavy packages down the garden to the shed . Yes, really, the shed. Not the bed or the bathtub or the kitchen table, the garden SHED. Please don’t misunderstand; I’m thrilled that Nancy wants to have a messy session with me. I’m more than thrilled, I’m shell-shocked. Since she read my stories our sex life has become hotter than ever. I let her read the whole lot: all my fantasies both possible and impossible. In bed, we whisper filthy suggestions to each other and plaster each other with ridiculously generous handfuls of lube. The problem isn’t Nancy, you see, it’s me. I’m really scared that I might let her down after all her planning. What if whatever fantasy she’s cooking up down there turns out to be cold and uncomfortable and she hates it? She certainly knows what I fantasise about, but I can’t imagine how Nancy is going to create a warm, slippery mudbath in our garden shed. I suppose I’ll find out on Saturday.
***
I wake up to an empty bed on Saturday morning; Nancy’s side is already cold. Then I notice the package by my bedside. It’s wrapped the way you might wrap a special present for a special six year old girl. Festooned with pink ribbon. I pick the paper apart and white lacy fabric spills across the bed. I hold the dress up against my naked body in front of the mirror. It’s a nightdress: a monstrous confection of white and pink frills, lace, ruffles. Puffed sleeves. It’s going to be very short on me. Where did she find a dress like this to fit an adult woman? I’m going to look like a doll. I let the silky fabric brush across my tits, hardening my nipples. I can feel the first clutches of arousal deep inside me. I hope Nancy is going to enjoy trashing this dress at least half as much as I am.

I try to do justice to the dress, applying careful makeup and smoothing my mop of hair into a neat twist. I examine my reflection critically and decide to re-do my hair in bunches. Nancy wants me to look sweet and innocent? I can manage that. She still hasn’t put in an appearance and I wonder again whether I should go down to the shed and see if she’s in there. She has taped paper over the shed window and from the house I can’t tell. She must be. How will I know when she’s ready for me?

I pad downstairs but stop at the first landing. Pink bunny slippers! I feel a brief pang of anxiety about wearing them out in the garden then realise just how silly I’m being. Normal rules do not apply today: we’re going to be doing something deliciously nasty to those bunny slippers. But what? Hanging at the foot of the stairs is a pink fluffy robe, so I put that on too despite the heat of the summer morning. The garment is weighted oddly and far too heavy. I reach my hands into the pockets with thrilling apprehension. Instead of stickiness or sliminess my hands close over smooth rounded objects, identical and each the size of a small melon. Balloons? Waterbombs?! I raise one to the light, handling it as if it were unexploded ordinance, but the contents are dark under purple plastic. It feels tight and heavy and full. I return it to the pocket, my heart dancing.

Warm sunlight streams into the kitchen through the windows and the open back door. I can smell cut grass from a neighbour’s house. The kitchen shows the unmistakable signs of splosh preparation. Someone has heated up a lot of substances in here this morning. I try not to look at the packaging, not wanting to spoil Nancy’s surprise, but find my eye drawn to the pile of tins in the sink. Syrup tins, and too many to count at a glance. I feel another flutter of arousal.

I look a little silly walking down the garden path in my girly outfit. I’m so busy checking over my shoulder to make sure no one’s watching that I nearly garrotte myself on our clothesline, right myself, then trip over the bunny slippers. Wheeling into the lilac bushes, I feel something cold gush down my bare leg. Oh god. What have I got in my pocket? I sink my hand into a glutinous ball of… Oh! Wallpaper paste! I swirl my fingers through the luxurious gloop. One bunny has suffered in the encounter: its fur slicked in every direction. When I walk it squelches sadly.

I get to the door of the shed and suddenly feel more anxious than excited, despite knowing that this has all been carefully planned by my lover. Sheepishly, I knock.
And then Nancy is there in the crack of the door and she’s grinning. She runs her hands over my fluffy robe while we kiss, teasing me with the silky fabric underneath.

“You look good enough to eat,”

Her grin broadens and her eyes sparkle. Then she casts her gaze down.

“What have you been doing to yourself? Perhaps we should get you into the bed so you can tell me all about it.”

I look around at our humble shed transformed. Nancy has hauled all the junk out of here and made it look like a bedroom. A single bed takes up most of the space in the middle of the floor; piled high with feminine blankets and pillows. I leave one half of a trail of footprints on the way to the bed where I sit down carefully. Wallpaper paste oozes out of my pocket anyway. I watch with excited dismay as it puddles on the pink duvet. ‘ Don’t Make a Mess, Melissa’ I scold myself but I relish this conflict. I want to make such a mess.

Nancy eyes the pooling paste with something like hunger in her eyes.

“Have you made a mess of your dress, Melissa?”

“I fell over the bunny slippers.”

I swing my legs onto the bed and present her with the offending slippers. I follow the line of her gaze upwards from them and recall that this nightdress is very, very short.

“And now you’re soaked through with glue? Shall we punish them?”

I have no idea what she means until she removes my clean slipper and picks up a bucket from near the foot of the bed. She plunges the furry slipper into the bucket and pulls it out dripping with paste. Great strings of it patter recklessly onto the floor. She replaces the slipper and gives my foot a squeeze. It feels so sensuous and I half laugh half moan as it squashes between my toes. Nancy holds up my other slipper and pulls a comedy pout at his damp sticky fur.

“This one clearly started all the trouble. Something worse for him I think.”

Nancy attends to something behind the head of the bed while I remain transfixed by all the squidgy glue in my slipper. I wonder how it would feel to have my knickers filled like this. Nancy returns with an unrecognisable slipper.

“Rice pudding,” she says proudly “and then gravy.”
#
I’m slightly gobsmacked by her revolting creativity. She lets the lumpy mixture plop down onto my bare foot and I nearly jerk back in disgust. But I want it. This gets me even wetter and I allow the ugly mixture to be dripped onto my foot until I can hardly stand it before she engulfs my foot in its total stickiness.

“That’s better” she says.

Nancy tucks me into bed like an attentive nurse, taking care to be gentle with my unburst surprise, then bends down to kiss me searchingly. I Relax into her kisses and enjoy the smooth sensation of clean sheets on clean skin. Probably not for long though, I think, and the thought and the kisses conspire to get me soaking wet. I wriggle my toes to feel the warm mess squish between them.

“Comfortable?”

I nod.

“You know what’s going to happen to you, yes? Lie back on the pillows. This is going to be the dirtiest dream you’ve ever had.”

I can hear her moving behind me, but I do as she asks and snuggle down in my cosy little bed.

“Shut your eyes, Love,” she says.

And she starts to pour. A deluge of gloriously warm, thick, glutinous gunge pours onto my face and I have to press my lips tight to stifle a moan of pleasure. The sensation is spectacular, my cheeks, my lips: all that sensitive flesh at the mercy of this new kind of touch. Warm goo pours over the top of my head and runs down my neck in twin rivers, pooling in my clavicles and covering the pillow. Oh god – the pillows! Is Nancy going to cover the WHOLE BED with gunge? I’m so wet between my legs that I must be soaking the sheet underneath. My hips start to sway involuntarily. Soon I’m going to be begging for her touch and she knows it. The inundation finally stops.

“Want to have a peek yet?”

I clear my eyes and brush thick warm goo back into my hair. I sneak a peek at the bed.

“Oh it’s black!”

Nancy just smiles. I’m tucked under the blankets up to my chin but I can see the black gunge oozing into the lacy neckline of the nightdress. I inspect my gungy hands.

“Back under the covers now please. You can look but you can’t touch. Yet.”

My hands retreat under the covers but I hardly know what to do with them, they’re so dirty! It feels wonderfully weird lying in this comfortable bed with my face and hands and feet covered with mess. Goo is trickling down over my neck to pool behind my shoulders. I wipe my hands on the clean sheets and look up at Nancy.
And then I feel the second balloon bursts. I give a small cry of surprise.

“Are you touching yourself under there with those filthy hands? I know you want to. Your wet pussy must be just begging to be stroked. You are such a naughty, dirty girl,”

“Nancy, what was in the second balloon?”

She catches on and her eyes sparkle.

“Oh! So you’re stroking your pussy with mayonnaise as well as the black slime? I’m going to have to protect you from yourself. You’re not going to come until you’re rolling in the mess and begging me for it.”

Her accusations are outrageous, but Nancy’s words have a devastating effect and I melt with lust for her. Under the bedclothes her hands find mine, but there is something cold and hard in hers it’s –

“Handcuffs.” She says smugly, clipping my unprotesting wrists to the headboard. “You aren’t the only one with secret fantasises you know.”

Now that my hands are held behind my head I’m utterly helpless. I’m also more excited than I thought possible. Even under all the layers of bedding, this position makes my tits feel wonderfully exposed. I surrender completely to my lover. Whatever comes next is fine with me.

Nancy stands in front of me, examining her hands. They are covered in mayonnaise from attaching my restraints. She looks me in the eye and trails her fingers across the front of her black T shirt leaving white lines. She reaches under the covers and walks her fingertips up my leg until she reaches the huge clump of mayo pouring out of my pocket. She spreads a generous handful over her tits; never taking her eyes off mine. She finger paints her breasts, her midriff, the leg of her black jeans. I’m practically fizzing with frustration I want to touch her so badly.

Seeming satisfied with herself; Nancy picks up a watering can. This time she starts near the foot of the bed. Tipping the can she allows a torrent of purple slime to pour down on the bedclothes. She slops great ropes of dark gunge over the bed, working from side to side and totally ruining the duvet. Under the covers my body is on fire. I want to be covered in this mess and not a drop is getting on my skin. Watching helpless as she upends the last of it, I realise I’m making a whimpering sound. Nancy is onto the next can. This time orange gunge pours down on me. I watch, absorbed, as she raises the can high and allows the gunge to fall with a real splash, purple and orange mixing in pools all over the drowned duvet. She walks all around the bed, drawing a line up the centre of my covered body with the falling gunge. I arch my back, unable to resist the urge to lift my pussy closer to the point of impact. I spread my legs for her, under the covers, maddened by the muffled pounding of gunge splashing into my crotch. She holds the can above me unmoving, emptying the whole lot over me where it would feel the best if only she would move the damn covers. Slime flows over the edge of the bed to splatter loudly on the shed floor.

“Is this where you want it Liss? Right here?”

She leans across and brings her hand firmly down in the pile of goo between my legs and I gasp with frustrated pleasure.

“Where do you want it?”

“Everywhere! Cover me!”

“Cover you? Ok. You asked for it.”

She grabs her end of the duvet and tosses it deftly over my head. I’m suddenly trapped in darkness. I close my eyes against the wave of warm mixed gunge that pours over my head, but it’s wonderful. I’m truly covered! I writhe against my bonds and feel heavy fabric stick to my face. I’m mired in my own individual gunge cave and every movement I make just emphasises how impossible it would be to escape. It feels utterly indecent to do this in the neatly made up bed. Nancy draws back the duvet a bit, letting in light and air above my head and wiping my eyes for me.

“Ok Love?”

“I’m going to fuck you until you scream when you let me go!”

Nancy barks laughter and flattens the double over duvet so that I can look down at my clean nightdress and bare legs. The sopping bunny slippers bob ridiculously at my feet. New puddles of purple/orange gunge merge and tip down around my shoulders. The slow flood of slippery warmth makes my nipples hard and tight in anticipation. I want this so, so much.

And Nancy is ready for my need.

“You want to fuck me? Well I’m going to mess you up properly first. I’m going to cover you with more filthy, sloppy mess than you can possible imagine and then I’m going to ride you in it. Liss, I’m going to roll you in it and ride you in it. I’m going to get you DIRTY.”

She pulls a drop-cloth from the trestle table behind her and I can make out all sorts of jugs and bowls. Steam rises from some of them. I hear a crunch and look back at Nancy. She’s holding her hands raised two feet above my belly: the egg she’s just cracked drips through her cupped hands. I’m tied to the bed and helpless with shock and wanton desire. She lets it fall onto my nightdress in stringy drips. Those first cold drops start my hips bucking helplessly. I feel the egg resting on my midriff in a wobbling puddle before it slides coldly down my side and under my back. It spreads and soaks into the sheet under me and I can’t stop writhing. I need another. Nancy is ready with the second egg and, indeed, the third. She breaks them gently on each of my upraised knee caps, allowing cool egg to sluice down over my bare thighs in every direction.

“More, please. More! Nancy? Please?”

She doesn’t reply but she’s holding a huge covered basin when she comes back to the bedside. It looks heavy from the way she’s holding it, but I’ll admit to being sorry that it isn’t another egg. Nancy meets my eye, smiles tranquilly, and then upends the basin above my torso.

Stunning cold hits me first, then the breath taking weight of the cascade of… of eggs! Oh my god the basin was full of raw eggs! Slimy egg rushes out of the basin in one solid string and pours heavily onto my midsection. I stare dumbstruck down the bed at the mess. I’m buried in it: swimming in it! I move very gently and watch as golden yolks pour off me in every direction. They slide over my sides and down between my legs. The slimy, transparent goo is inches deep all around me, eggs sliding underneath me in unpredictable rushes and rivulets. The nightdress is glued to my skin, pasted onto me, and I can feel the puddle of eggs between my legs soaking through the ass of my white cotton underwear. I long to roll onto my belly and feel the slipperiness underneath me as I grind thick slime into the smooth sheets. The thought sends a pang of stiffening anticipation through my clit.

“Good?” She asks, her voice sounding thick with lust.

“Good? This is… OBSCENE!”

This seems to please Nancy greatly. She plunges her hands into the mess that covers me, bursting yolks in every direction. I watch the flicker of surprise in her eyes as she strokes her hand through the frictionless gloop, feeling how slippery it is. I should be grossed out – I’ve never done it with eggs, not even in my fantasies. Which means Nancy thought this up all on her own. As she caresses my ribcage, my belly, my thighs, I can see naked arousal in her face and for the first time I realise that she wants this as much as I do. She wants this mess all over her skin as well. Her touch is magnified a thousand times by the goo, transmitting impossibly soft pleasure everywhere she touches. The raw egg is the slipperiest thing I’ve ever felt. Nancy is covered in it up to the elbow now, lost in the sensation of rubbing egg into my hot, heaving body. I close my eyes and revel in the pleasure, opening them only when I feel Nancy’s slippery hands reach up my nightdress and tug at the waist of my knickers. I meet her gaze as she stretches the elastic and unsticks the fabric from my spread pussy but then the world whites-out with pleasure. Eggs pour into my knickers from the deep pool all around me and I moan loudly. The cool slime is perfect where it covers my hot, hard clit. Nancy lets the waistband ping back then pauses meaningfully before rubbing the mess into my pussy through the sodden knickers. Her touch is casual but expert, torturing me with the grinding touch.

“Do you feel dirty enough yet, love, or do you want to see what’s next?”

I nod meaninglessly as she moves to the head of the bed and throws the covers back over my slimy figure, covering my legs but exposing my top half for her attention. The feeling of lying, restrained, in a bed swimming with eggs and being covered up in the duvet, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, makes my pussy throb. Nancy’s next move surprises me as she throws one leg astride me and kneels up on the bed, pinning me between her legs. Her shifting weight forces the egg mess into continuous slippery contact with my skin and produces several loud slopping and sucking sounds as she finds her balance. The eggs in my knickers slide between my pussy lips and down under my ass. I cry out again, then her lips are on mine. We kiss hungrily and I long to put my arms around her and pull her close but the handcuffs prevent me. When she pulls back I notice how messy this has got her. Black slime smears her face from my hair and her black T shirt and jeans are sploshed with purple and orange gunge from the duvet, the mayo has melted and mixed with everything. She looks so totally, helplessly horny. I wait for what comes next. Wordlessly she reaches down under the bed and pulls out a smaller basin, holding it high so I can’t see. When she starts to pour, nothing happens for a second then… syrup. A gorgeous golden rope stretches down over the front of my nightdress. Then it hits me; moving at a glacial speed the syrup spreads over my breasts and runs over my collarbones into my hair. Nancy can’t wait to get her fingers into it, smearing the stickiness around and covering the lace ruffles on the front of the nightdress. My hard nipples sing for a direct touch, but she drags her fingers in slow circles around them, syrup gluing her them together. Under the covers I twist in the slick pleasure of my egg-bath. Nancy pours a torrent of syrup into my hair and undoes the bunches so that she can shampoo it in.

Nancy reaches down to the side again and returns with a huge cream pie in her hand. She sets it carefully on my belly while she undoes the buttons on the front of the nightdress, exposing my sticky tits. She slaps the pie over them, covering me with cream and custard and grinding the sponge base so that the whole lot mixes with the syrup into a sticky, swampy mess. With my arms stretched above my head my vulnerable breasts feel super sensitive to her touch. She squeezes me between her thighs and strokes the mess all over my tits until I’m panting and gasping with pleasure. Inside my knickerswarming egg yolks burst against my clit.

“Fuck me Nancy, fuck me now!” I moan near her ear, “I can’t possibly get any hornier. I want you now.”

She seems torn. I can tell that it wasn’t her plan to release me so early, but she wants to. She wants to untie me and let me touch her.

“Get naked,” I tell her softly “Slide into this mess and play with me.”

This decides her. With a last, hard kiss she dismounts and crouches to fumble with the cuffs. Her fingers are slippy. When my arms are suddenly freed it feels fantastic. I bring them round to the front to sink my hands in the mess that covers me. I squish it between my fingers and stroke it thickly over my shoulders. I stretch, making a ‘snow angel’ in the mess. Gunge and egg and syrup and cream blend between my fingers and I slide them through my dirty hair. I raise myself on one hip to see where Nancy’s gone.

She has stripped her splashed clothes off and stands behind the bed, her pale skin clean and inviting. Instead of joining me she returns to her still-laden table and shoves it unceremoniously across the floor next to the bed. Various gunge sloshes over the sides of the containers. I don’t bother to look closely at the table: I have eyes only for Nancy. She looks like she’s deciding how to sit down and I can’t blame her. The bed is full of slop and slime and mess. I pat the covers splashily beside me, inviting her to lower her bare ass into the mess.

Nancy kneels first, then just throws herself into a sprawl beside me, slicking one hip and elbow with gunge and cream. Excitement shines out of her face. I take each of her hands in mine and stretch to kiss her, my sticky tits inches away from her soft clean ones. She gasps when I move to take her in my arms but I reach past her to the trestle and grab one of her bowls at random.

“What’s this one?” I ask.

“Chocolate fudge sauce.”

I dip my hand into the sauce and gather as much as I can hold before smearing the gooey liquid over her breasts. She watches, breathless, as I cover her pale skin with thick, brown sludge. Nancy makes a sound of such aching pleasure that it resonates in all the soft, secret parts of my body. It tips us both over the edge and we each take the other into our arms, stroking and writhing with our whole bodies. Nancy lays full length on the gungy duvet, kissing me frantically and getting mess and goo all over herself in the process because it just feels so good.

I want to cover her completely. I reach for the table and grab a large bucket; the first that comes to hand. It’s chocolate cake mix; warm and thick. I upend the whole lot without warning over her head. Warm batter pours over the bed all around us and plasters Nancy from her hair to her belly button. She reaches her hands up into it and spreads it eagerly over her own face and over her tits.


“Oh fuck that feels GOOD!” She gasps, when she can speak. “That feels so, so good. More, let’s do more! Oh god we’re so dirty.”

Nancy slides with me under the duvet…

“Oh Fuck- this feels amazing!”

…and together we half tear, half tug the ruined nightdress off me.

She arches her back and slides her naked body through the egg slime. I stroke her all over, helping her, smearing egg down her back, into the crack of her ass, into her hair. We tease and tickle, mixing the swamp of different substances together. Her soft fingertips linger at my nipples while I slide one slippery leg between hers. She stops me by pressing one sweet finger into my lips. She pulls back the covers so that we can admire our entwined bodies and the outrageous mess in the bed. I’m drinking in the sight of her when she pours the next bucket. Oil. Pale golden oil washes over both of us as she pours without restraint, rinsing off some of the cream and chocolate. She slides her pussy along my greasy leg, eyes shut with pleasure. With the oil and the egg it’s now almost difficult to keep hold of each other. We thrust together and slither over each other but I can’t get purchase on her slick curves. I reach for a container, the biggest of the remainder, and find it’s full of warm porridge. I dump the whole lot between us and start to spread it everywhere. Nancy’s turn. Her container is full of something that looks a lot like cream, but doesn’t move the right way when she dips her hand in.

“What’s that one?”

She smiles a wicked smile.

“Stretch your legs up and I’ll show you.”

I comply, reaching both legs up to point my toes skywards. Nancy smushes the white stuff over my ass, rubbing it in in slow, slow circles and smearing some over my pussy. It’s marshmallow. Has to be: it’s so fucking sticky. I dip my own hand into the bowl and spread it over her, trying to grind it into the mess already on her skin. I side astride her and reach for a smaller, lidded pot.

“Not that one! That one’s last!”
Intrigued, I choose again and grab a bowl of what appears to be peanut butter. When I smear it between her legs she rocks wildly into the touch and meets my eyes imploringly. I remember her words earlier and decide that she’s going to have to beg.

“Does it make you want to come? Me rubbing this thick gloopy mess into your cunt?” Her eyes widen. “Spread your legs for me if you want some more.”
She spreads them so quickly that mess sloshes over both sides of the bed to splatter on the floor. I scoop up as much of the dripping mess from the bed as I can and raise my cupped hands over her pussy.

“Know what this is Nancy? It’s gunge and egg and chocolate and mayo and cream and porridge and oil all mashed up together. Hell, I’ve forgotten what some of it is. It’s disgusting, but the thought of having me smear it into your sopping slit is nearly enough to make you come right now. You want it, don’t you? You want me to cover you with it, you filthy little slut.”

I drop the handful from as high as I can reach and watch her agonised expression of total lust as it splatters her pussy. She grabs her own handful from the mess between her legs and throws it at me. The mess sails over my head to impact on the wall behind in a startling splatter. That’s what starts it. Nancy’s next throw gets me smack across the face and then we’re throwing it at each other, laughing and scrambling through the ruin of the bed. The gravy is thrown. The rice pudding follows. The table still provides plenty of ammunition. I grab a whole gateau and slop it into Nancy’s waiting crotch, rubbing and stroking her hard clit through the crumbling sponge and cool whipped cream. She pushes a paper plate of jam onto my ass. Reaching for something to retaliate with, my hand closes on a tall cylindrical bottle. Poster paint. Nancy’s kneeling at the opposite end of the bed, still smearing herself with the remains of the gateaux, when she sees what I’ve got. She grabs a pillow to use as a shield and springs off the bed, slipping a little, to put the table between us. The hot-pink paint arcs through the air with astonishing speed and reach. It splatters Nancy and her pillow, showing up beautifully against the dark slop that drips from her skin, making its course down her glorious naked body to drip on the floor. She has something in her hand now, something to spray me with no doubt. I grab a pillow for myself and as I press the clean side to my sticky chest I’m struck viscerally by how naughty this is.

We’ve gone so much further than I ever fantasised. Nancy splatters me with a thick jet of shaving foam and reclaims her place on the bed. I join her, having found a can myself, and our ‘food-fight’ takes a temporary respite while we enjoy smoothing the rich foam over our hot messy skin and swirling it around in chaotic patterns. She smushes palmful after palmful of foam into my pussy and holds me down roughly as she rubs it in. There is so much mess in the bed now that every movement generates a chorus of slops and squelches. We’re swimming in a revolting, thick sloppy soup that isn’t really any one colour. Nancy grabs the other bottle of poster paint and we take turns squeezing jets of baby-blue paint to splatter all over each other.

There is only one more container on the table. The last one. I can’t imagine how anything could possibly escalate this mess: we are totally filthy all over. The air itself tastes sweet. I meet her eye as she unscrews the lid of the pot, fingers slipping.

Inside, there is just dust. Fine dust, velvet black.

“It’s lamp-black,” she says “Pure soot”.

I look at her not comprehending, then she tosses the pot high in the air over the bed. A fan of black dust rains down.

“Go on! Touch it.”

I dip my fingers into the mess and scoop up some of the soot dust, floating on the surface of a glistening handful of mess. I draw my hand slowly down her chest between her tits, leaving a stunning streak of the darkest black. Nancy laughs and trails her own fingertips through it. Everywhere she touches turns instantly greasy black. The sprinkle of lamp-black in the goo is enough to paint the skin over half her body. She works it over her hard nipples and smile up at me.

“Want to get even dirtier?”

I do.

We embrace, smearing sooty slime all over me. Even with the mess already on my skin I can see this is going to be dramatic. She lies on her back in the bed, sunk in a deep, deep puddle of the terrible gooey mess. I straddle her and we roll into each other. The total physical contact is overwhelming. Her skin is so hot and so impossibly slippery. The whole bed oozes and squashes as we slither over each other, working in the lamp-black with our bodies and our hands. The mess is transformed into something that looks a lot like lumpy pitch as we roll in it together but feels gorgeously silky and slick on our skin. When I thrust against her my movement forces thick waves of mess to slop over her body and down between her legs. I kiss her, tasting sweetness, and we slide beside each other, cheek to cheek.

“Scissors?” She whispers.

I don’t understand for a second until she slips her thigh between mine and parts my legs, twisting until we touch tenderly: my clit grazes against hers through the mess. Scissors.

We grind against each other with such perfect, exquisite, gentleness that we’re barely moving at all. I slide into a rhythm that makes Nancy’s breath come in ragged gasps and stroke her all over with thick black goo. She returns my touch. Every tiny movement brings such pleasure: the mess slides all over us as we push back and forth. Her fingers find my nipples. The combined pleasure of her squeezing, sliding fingers and her wet warm pussy pressed into mine is perfection. I feel my orgasm everywhere; just out of reach beyond my nerve endings, but approaching. Nancy sobs in a breath and I know from the sound how close she is to coming.

“Yes,” I whisper, “Come on Nancy, give it to me! Fuck me Nancy, Fuck me”.

She moans low in her throat and I feel dangerous pleasure flutter in my clit.

“You love it don’t you? You’re covered in it! Smear it all over me when you come. Slop your pussy all over me! Oh Nancy you are so FILTHY!”

Her trembling tips me over the edge and our eyes lock as we each start to come; huge dizzying spasms that make me press more closely against my slippery lover. She’s bucking frantically, helpless with pleasure, back arched and eyes shut. My orgasm is so powerful I lose myself in it, cresting wave after wave of quivering delight. My bucking hips match hers and the mess slops and squishes all around us as we cling to each other through the final throes.

Usually I’d want to clean up as soon as I came but this is different. Lazing under the sticky duvet, glued to my exhausted lover, I feel so perfectly at peace. Floating. I hold her and we rock slowly together, limbs entwined, an echo of the great storm of pleasure that’s consumed us. Nancy’s eyes shine bright against her grimy cheeks. Complicit in this delicious secret we’ve shared. This filthy, transcendent fuck.

“Nancy, that was-”

"I want to do it again.”

God I love this woman.