From chocmess@wamsat.com Thu May 29 23:29:57 1997 Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-dc-2.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news-in-east.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!208.131.160.208!news.infi.net!news.infi.net!pm4-173.roanoke.infi.net!chocmess From: Shokolada Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.wet-and-messy,alt.sex.stories Subject: WAM Repost - Dessert Glass (m/f, food, pies, sex) Date: 30 May 1997 03:29:57 GMT Organization: WAMSAT Lines: 180 Distribution: world Message-ID: <5mlhjl$9m5$3@nw003.infi.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: pm4-173.roanoke.infi.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Newsreader: Nuntius 2.0.4_PPC X-XXMessage-ID: X-XXDate: Thu, 29 May 1997 03:31:18 GMT Xref: news1.infoave.net alt.sex.fetish.wet-and-messy:44822 alt.sex.stories:201262 Dessert Glass, by Shokolada Cameron looked up from the chess game. He'd finally gotten a pawn across the board, and the introduction of another queen had saved his game at the last minute. He let an evil grin spread across his face, and said, "You know what this means, don't you?" Linda knew very well. The loser of the game would be submitting to the winner's ministrations that evening; until tonight, she'd won every game for the last week. It would be interesting to see how Cameron indulged his fetishes this time; the last time, they'd fucked all night on a plastic-coated bed that had been turned into a giant birthday cake with lemon frosting, expressions of love and lust written in red gel, and white tapers serving as birthday candles (rather quickly blown out and knocked aside.) So what if it hadn't been anyone's birthday? That night, they cleared space in the bedroom, and set out a tarp to protect the carpet. Under his direction, Linda stripped nude, then stepped into a clear plastic tall kitchen trash bag Cameron handed her. Her feet went into two holes cut into the bottom, and she raised the bag until her butt and crotch settled into the bottom. Linda noticed immediately the toy plastic hoop threaded through where the bag's drawstring would have been; as the edge reached her shoulders, Cameron ordered her to bring her elbows down to her waist, and keep them there. Her hands held the hoop at shoulder level. Two strips of duct tape pinched the leg holes slightly tighter around her thighs. "You ready?" Cameron asked. The plastic's friction against her clitoris already had Linda panting slightly. "Give me what you've got," she breathed. He immediately emptied a titanic bowl of warm brownie batter down the back of the bag. The batter crawled down her back, slid into the crack of her ass, flowed slowly over her hips, and settled into her crotch. A bulge of chocolate showed between her legs, and her vagina became invisible beneath the batter. The flow finished a few inches below her breasts, and the warmth against her back ended. Linda's eyes closed, her head tilted back, and her lower jaw protruded slightly. Unable to stop herself, she began rocking her hips back and forth slightly, sliding warm chocolate back and forth across herself. With each stroke, she moaned barely audibly. She realized Cameron's hands were on her breasts through the clear plastic, and gasped, pressing herself against him. After a few minutes of squirming, she orgasmed, adding new traces of fluid to the bottom of the bag. Cameron released her when she could stand on her own again. She opened her eyes to see his member still upright and ready. Linda winked, and said, "That's not all, is it?" "Oh, I was hoping you'd ask that," he said as he reached for another bowl. This one, for the next few seconds, was full of yellow cake batter. He approached Linda from the front, and carefully, methodically, covered her head with the goo. Her dark hair became loaded with the batter, and once it was covered, the rest flowed over her eyes and nose. RIvers of slime coated her breasts, and the bag filled to the edge with a layer of yellow over the base of brown. Cameron cleaned away her eyes and nose. She licked batter from her lips, saying, "And how do I look to you now?" He raised a pocket camera. "Well, you'll know in a week or two, when we get these developed." "No!" she shrieked with a smile. He considered that. "You're right. It needs something." He went behind her for a moment, and with a series of whooshes, five cans of spray cream topped her sugar-flavored hairdo. "I can't wait any longer," she singsonged. Cameron came back around to her front, and delivered two thick chocolate meringue pies to her impatient face. Clearing her nostrils again, he snapped away with the camera from every angle. "You look like a big, walking, chocolate and vanilla dessert," he commented. "Well, then, you know what to do with dessert," she demanded. Cameron immediately ditched the few clothes he still wore, sat beneath her, and tore a hole in the plastic over her pussy. His tongue darted in as the mess flowed over his head, slipping down his back and puddling in his lap. After a few minutes of him spelling the alphabet on her vulva, she howled, and pushed him to his back. "Now!" she growled. He needed no explanation. They wiped as much away from themselves as possible, and she mounted him, dropping the front of the hoop and letting most of the remaining batter flow over him. They didn't last long after that, and they grunted and gasped in time to the sucking, plopping noises from beneath her. After a few moments of recovery, she looked him over, then looked at herself, scooping cream from her hair and meringue from her face. "You are WEIRD, Cameron. You know that, don't you?" He gazed up at her sticky glory, and grinned. "You just haven't managed to outdo me yet." Linda used a finger to scoop batter off her left nipple, then licked it away. "All right," she said with a light in her eyes. "Challenge accepted." Shokolada shokolada@aol.com ----- chocmess@wamsat.com http://www.wamsat.com/chocmess/index.html WAM News needs your submissions! For more info write to: wamnews@geocities.com