This is a fictional story I wrote a couple of years ago. I hope you enjoy it.

A Chance Encounter, by Alan Bass © Copyright 2007, All Rights Reserved.

Ann and I have tickets to see a show at a small Jazz club up in Berkeley on Friday night. While there, Ann runs into a friend from college on her way to the ladies room. When she comes back to our table, she tells me that we’ve been invited to join her friend Vanessa and her fiancé at their table, which is closer to the stage than ours. They are a good-looking black couple. Vanessa is wearing a low-cut, backless cream-colored evening gown and stiletto heels. Her fiancé, Tom, is wearing a conservative dark suit, white shirt, and tie. The suit fits well and he is clearly accustomed to such attire – I peg him as a banker, stockbroker, or some similar financially oriented businessman. It turns out that I am right – he is a branch manager for an Oakland branch of a well-known area bank. Vanessa is a financial analyst for a brokerage firm in the city.

Ann and Vanessa catch up on each other’s lives (they haven’t seen each other for several years…while they were friends in college, they were not that close and haven’t kept in touch). Tom and I exchange some small talk, but mostly we listen in on the women’s conversation. Eventually, the discussion turns to relationships.

“How did you meet Tom,” Ann asks.

“Believe it or not, by e-mail. No, not through one of those dating services or personal adds. We corresponded about some financial matters for some of Tom’s customers. One day, something came up that I needed to resolve quickly, and he hadn’t responded to my e-mail yet, so I gave him a call. Although strictly professional, it had always been a pleasure working with Tom via e-mail, but on the phone he was even more pleasant, courteous, and helpful. He seemed like a really nice guy, in addition to being an intelligent and resourceful banker who actually knew something about his customers and what they wanted (all too rare, let me tell you). I was curious about him, but I figured he was probably 40-something, balding, married with two and a half kids, two and a half cars, you know, the so-called average American male.”

“When I first heard her voice, I was captivated,” Tom interjected. “I’d always had a high opinion of Vanessa from our professional interactions, but there was something about her voice…after speaking with her, I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

“As it turns out, a couple of weeks later we needed some signatures on some paperwork, and it had to be signed originals – faxes wouldn’t do. It was four o’clock and the papers had to be sent out from my office first thing in the morning, at the latest. Tom had gotten the paperwork signed by his customer but needed to get it to me. It was too late to get a courier to deliver before my office closed and the window in the morning was quite small, so I asked Tom if we could meet somewhere to exchange the paperwork. Since I lived in Oakland, his bank wasn’t too far out of my way, although it was a few miles from my house. Tom agreed to stay late and meet me, he said he had some paperwork to catch up on anyway.

I got to the bank a few minutes before six. When I knocked on the door, this tall, handsome black man came and opened the door. My first thought was ‘why can’t I ever meet a gorgeous guy like that?’ When I asked for Tom, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that this gorgeous hunk was Tom. I was also pleased to see that he wasn’t married (or at least probably wasn’t, he wasn’t wearing a ring…you never can tell for sure these days, some guys are just such jerks).

After we exchanged the paperwork, I was pleasantly surprised again, and flattered, when he asked me if I’d like to join him for dinner. Since my plans for the evening had consisted of washing dishes and zoning out to bad TV programs, I gladly accepted. He turned out to be just as much of a gentleman in person, and outside of our normal professional setting, as he was on the job. We had a great time together and started seeing each other regularly.”

“When I first saw Vanessa, I was as taken by her beauty as I had been by her voice,” tom interjected. “When I saw that she wasn’t wearing any rings, I knew that I had to at least try to get to know her better. While I knew it was perhaps slightly inappropriate to ask, I had to ask her out. That was the start of something really special for both of us.”

“Sure was, sweety. So how did you two meet,” Vanessa asked. Vanessa was Ann’s friend, so I let her answer – she’d have a better idea how her friend would react to our story. While we didn’t exactly advertise the wet and messy aspects of our relationship, we’d decided some time back that there was no reason to hide that aspect of our relationship either. If the subject came up, we talked about it. It’s been interesting. While some people have though it weird or disgusting, most either didn’t really care one way or the other or they were curious and asked a lot of questions. How we talked about it usually depended on who we were talking to. Sometimes we’d approach gently and cautiously, sometimes we’d use humor, and sometimes we’d just lay it out plain and simple. Still, Ann would be the better judge of how Vanessa would react (I suspected that Tom would follow Vanessa’s lead here, or else just be quietly courteous regardless of what he might actually think) and could say it in an appropriate way.

“Well, I was up to my waist in mud, actually, when Alan happened along.”

“What?” Vanessa exclaimed. “Oh, this has got to be an interesting story. Girl, how did you end up waist deep in the mud?”

“Easy. I sat down in it.”

The looks on their faces during the subsequent pause were classic. Surprise, mingled with curiosity…and a little bit of something else that I couldn’t immediately identify.

“OK, girl, spill. What were you doing sitting waist deep in the mud? You’re not exactly a little girl playing in the mud.”

“No, I was a big girl, playing in the mud. As it turns out, Alan was a big guy who’d come out to the mudflats where I was to play in the mud too. He was respectful, and went to play in the mud a little way away from me. Obviously, most people don’t go out to intentionally get covered in mud, so we started talking about playing in the mud. Eventually, I went over to Alan and we rubbed mud on each other’s backs while we kept talking about our mutual fascination with playing in the mud.

We had a good time together and started meeting regularly to play in the mud together. We quickly fell in love, kindred spirits, you know, that sort of thing. It’s been wonderful.”

“So why do you two play in the mud?” Vanessa asked.

“Because it turns us on. The feel of soft, smooth mud caressing your body – it’s very sensuous, sexy.”

“Do you play in the mud in your clothes or are you naked?” Vanessa, at least, is curious, rather than put off. I guess from Tom’s face that he’s also intrigued.

“Sometimes we get naked, but we always start out fully dressed,” Ann answers.

“Have you ever made love in the mud?” Tom finally speaks up. Definitely curious.

“Yes, many times. It can be a lot of fun, but you have to make sure the mud is smooth and clean – anything rough or gritty can make it painful, and that’s no fun.”

We talk a little more about mud play, but the musicians soon take the stage, our conversation dies out, and we turn our attention to the music. When they take a break, our conversation turns to other topics and mud play doesn’t come up again.

Ann and Vanessa excuse themselves to visit the ladies room during the break. What is it about women – they almost always seem to go to the restroom in twos or threes.

When they return, Vanessa and Tom whisper to each other for a few moments, then Tom nods.

“Would you two like to come over to our place for some desert after the show,” Tom asks. Ann and I agree. We stay for the rest of the show – it’s really excellent – and we enjoy talking with Tom and Vanessa when we get the chance.

When we get to Vanessa and Tom’s house in Oakland, Tom serves some wine while Vanessa is busy in the kitchen. After pouring wine for all of us, Tom goes to help Vanessa. We are both surprised and suspicious about what is in store for us when they bring out desert. Vanessa wheels out a cart covered with pies and several bowls. Tom carries out a large tray with more pies on it. Ann and I glance at each other. “I knew it!” Ann whispered. She told me later that Vanessa had asked if we’d ever tried playing with anything other than mud – paint, food, and such. “I told her we had, and that we’d liked most of it,” she said.

“I suspect you’ve guessed by now that we’re into messy play too,” Vanessa said. “I love to get pied. I love the feeling of a thick, sugary pie hitting my face, the filling running down my face and neck. I introduced Tom to messy food play, and he’s come to love it as much as I do. We were planning on a messy evening tonight anyway, and thought you might like to join us. We’ve never tried mud, but it sounds like it could be fun. We’d love it if you could tell us where to find a good spot to try it out, or if we could join you for some fun together in the mud.

“We realize that you weren’t expecting this, and may not be dressed in clothes you want to get messy, or may, for whatever reason, not want to join us. Please feel free to turn down the invitation to get messy with us if you want. We will understand, and think no less of you for it.”

“You’re also free to take a rain check if you want,” Tom adds. “We’d be happy to do this another time if the idea intrigues you but the timing doesn’t work right now.”

“So,” Vanessa continued, “we can either sit down and have a simple, normal desert together over a glass of wine and call it an evening, or we can take advantage of all this good food and have a fun evening getting messy together. It’s up to you.”

“By the way,” Tom adds, “we’re not suggesting an orgy, partner swapping, or anything like that. We are voyeurs and exhibitionists, but not swingers. We like to watch and be watched, but we aren’t really into group sex, or anything like that. We’re open minded enough that in the right situation it could happen, I suppose, but that’s not the kind of scene we’re really into.”

Ann and I look at each other, and we both break into big grins. This could be very interesting.

“Who gets to throw the first pie?” Ann asks.

“As our guest, you should choose – both who throws and who receives.”

“OK,” Ann says, as she moves over to the cart to inspect the available options. She selects a cherry pie topped with lots of whipped cream and smashes it into Vanessa’s face. The pie slowly slides off of Vanessa’s face and splatters on her well-endowed chest. She licks cherry filling and whipped cream off her lips and clears her eyes, wiping her hands on her dress.

“That was very nice,” Vanessa says. She picks up a chocolate cream pie and smashes it into Ann’s face. The chocolate pie is much thicker than the cherry pie and is much slower to drop off of Ann’s face and onto Ann’s dress. Ann is wearing a long dress with an abstract, 60’s retro abstract print, which is colored primarily in various shades of red, brown, and orange. Slowly, the pie dribbles off of her face and splatters on her dress.

“A few ground rules are probably in order,” Vanessa says. “Initially, it doesn’t matter who pies, or otherwise messes up, whom, but if and when things get intimate or sexual, we pair off as couples. Like Tom said, we’re really not swingers. A good food fight, with more than two people, can be a lot of fun, but we reserve the right to decide that it’s time for us to pair off and continue the fun as two couples, sharing a supply of food, rather than as a group.

“If either couple wants more privacy, feel free to use the bedroom – it’s just down that hall on the left. Don’t worry about the bed, sheets, or pillows – there are plastic liners under the sheets and pillow cases, and the bedclothes were doomed to get more stains on them tonight anyway. Just don’t sit on the cloth-covered chairs.

“Oh, and the bathroom is at the end of the hall. If you need to get a change of clothes or anything from your car, now would probably be a good time to do it, before we’re all covered in food.”

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

I go out and fetch the change of clothes we’ve come to keep in the car for spontaneous messy occasions such as this. While I am out, Vanessa has pied Tom. When I return, I get a pie in the face from Ann and the food play continues. We all get covered in goo. At first, it is pretty much a free for all, with pies flying and other messy substances being poured over whoever is nearest, although it is clear that for the most part Tom and I are going after the girls and they are going after us. Ann and Vanessa go after each other a couple of times, but I’m not sure that Tom and I ever intentionally gunged each other.

When we start to get turned on, we pair up as couples without even really thinking about it. Its kind of fun watching another couple get really turned on by messy play, watching them coat each other and strip each other down. It’s interesting being watched as well. They’re obviously used to putting on a show; we’re a little more awkward about it, but we relax fairly quickly (or perhaps we just get too turned on to care anymore) and just do what comes naturally to us.

Eventually, when all of the food has been thrown or poured over someone at least once, and we are all mostly naked, we lay down in the muck and watch each other make love to our partners.

Tom and Vanessa insist that we take the first shower while they clean up some. It turns out that the cleanup is just another excuse for them to get each other messy and turned on. When we emerge from the shower, we find that they have changed into sleepwear – pajamas and a night gown – without cleaning themselves up first. They have scooped up most of the muck off the floor, getting themselves thoroughly filthy in the process. Tom’s hard-on is very obvious under his messy pajama pants and Vanessa’s nipples showed clearly through the thin, wet material of her nightgown.

We help them with the cleanup – bringing empty bowls into the kitchen and rinsing them and such, but they soon stop us. “We’ll do the rest in the morning.” They insisted that they didn’t mind – as we had seen, it had become part of their messy play. They would get wet and/or messy all over again in the morning cleaning up the last remnants of tonight’s fun.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

After exchanging numbers and promising to show them some good mud soon, Ann and I headed back to her place for the evening. We tried to take the muck-filled garbage can out to the curb for them on our way out, but they wouldn’t let us do that either.

“We’re not done with it yet,” Vanessa said. Tom wheeled the can into their bedroom instead. “We plan to get very messy in bed tonight,” she said. “We’ll get messy, make love, and fall asleep in each other’s arms in the goo.”

“I know that this much is slimy and slippery when it’s fresh, but won’t it start to dry and get all sticky by morning?” Ann asked.

“Yes, it will, but that, too, is part of the fun. We look like something out of a horror movie when we get up. We peel ourselves out of bed in the morning, pull the sheets off the bed, toss them in the wash, and then head for the shower. Then we spend the next hour or so cleaning each other up and making love. Then we’ll get dressed, usually in something casual, something you’d lounge around the house in, and clean up. Usually we both end up getting wet, and a bit messy, during the clean-up, so that usually ends in a shower and another session of lovemaking.”

“That’s a lot of sex. I admire your stamina,” I comment.

“That’s why we usually only do this every couple of weeks or so,” Vanessa answered. “We probably won’t have sex again for several days, we’ll both be so spent, and sore, afterwards. Although we will share a shower, or have a quick messy session, we won’t have another major session like this for at least two weeks. But they’re a lot of fun. We always look forward to them, and I can’t recall us being able to go for more than a month without another major session like this, not for a long, long time, since the early days of our relationship, I think.”

It was very late, and we were both tired, but I had a feeling that we’d still be up for a few more hours. Seeing Vanessa and Tom messing up their sleepwear, and talking about sleeping in a bed full of food, had us quite horny, and itching to get messy once again.

When we got back to Ann’s house, we quickly changed into our own sleepwear. Following Tom and Vanessa’s model, I dressed in some satin pajamas and Ann dressed in a nightgown and matching panties and we quickly got down to business. We pulled out some instant pudding and made a big batch. It was a mix of flavors, as we didn’t have enough of any one flavor to make a satisfyingly large batch, but we didn’t care. It would feel great, and that was the main thing. We also pulled out all of the pancake syrup in the house, and a bottle of Karo syrup too. We hauled all of it to the bedroom.

We’d covered Ann’s bed with plastic under the sheets long ago so that we could get messy in bed, or have sex there after getting messy, and we took advantage of that now. We’d never covered Ann’s pillows in plastic, we usually just tossed them off the bed, but decided to sacrifice them tonight. It was unlikely that we’d be able to wash out all the muck we were about to cover them with and Ann had been wanting new pillows for a while anyway. The sheets were already stained from previous messy evenings.

We pulled the blanket and top sheet back and sat in the middle of the bed. We had fun pouring syrup and pudding over each other until we were both thoroughly coated. Ann pulled my dick out of my pajama bottoms and massaged pudding and syrup into it then gave me a blow job. I pulled down her panties and rubbed the muck into her pussy. We both stopped short of cumming. We laid down in the muck on the bed, and fucked, sliding around in all the pudding and syrup. By the time we were done, we were both covered head to toe in syrup and pudding, as was the bed. We pulled the top sheet and blanket over us and then rolled around some more in the muck, to make sure the sheet and blanket were well covered, and therefore not sticking to us in an uncomfortable way. We snuggled together, feeling the goo oozing between us and enjoying the sensations.

It had indeed been a long night – it was now almost 4 in the morning – and we soon fell asleep in each other’s arms. When we woke up in the morning, we were indeed a sticky, wretched mess, but it was fun to clean up in the shower together. It was pretty difficult to get the hardened goo out of Ann’s long hair, a problem Tom and Vanessa didn’t have, so we probably won’t sleep in goo again any time soon, but it was fun to try out. After we’d cleaned up and had a late breakfast (at about 2 in the afternoon!), we went out and bought new pillows, and plastic pillow covers, for Ann’s bed and talked about where we should take Tom and Vanessa to introduce them to mud play.