Please excuse a girl a little fantasizing about a guy she will never get!

***
I awoke amidst a wave of orgasmic pleasure this morning. I couldnt tell you what in my dreams sparked such a delicious tingling between my legs, but something certainly had. Half asleep, I revelled in the feel of my clit brushing lightly against my lace knickers, losing myself in the sweet ache spreading up from my crotch. The last thing I wanted was to leave this coil of ecstasy, to get up and face the day. If Id have known then what the day was to hold, Id have been much more willing.

Theres this guy: Chris. Ever since I first laid eyes on him I wanted him. Problem is, I first laid eyes on him at my *church* one Sunday, about two years ago. Now, a girl simply cant sit in church wondering what the delicate auburn ringlets of a guys hair would look like saturated in porridge. Its a sure way to make yourself feel hugely guilty like youre the worst person ever. Which you probably are. But such a curly mop, especially when he flicks it out of his eyes with such an arrogant nonchalance, is just asking for a gunging. Simply begging for it so loudly whenever youre around him. And when the first thing he ever asks you is whether you think he should grow a beard, your mind is simply blown by the image of grinding a huge cake into his face and matting it into his facial hair. Every Sunday, as you slowly become flirtatious friends, you have to sit next to Chris and try to think of anything but indulging in some messy fun with him. But every week it gets harder. Every week you want him more.

But today, this Sunday, something new happens. He asks you to get a hot chocolate with him after the service.

So were there. A capitalist giant of a coffee shop that Id never want my hipster socialist friends to know I frequent, gazing into each others eyes over two mugs of hot chocolate and a slice of carrot cake to share (although, I eat most of it, to be honest. This girl does not share food nicely). His eyes are this insane sea green colour that suits his rusty hair and the beard he did indeed grow more perfectly than anything I have ever seen. The conversation is great. I manage not to garble my words and end up spewing out vowels like I usually do around attractive men, at least I think I do! Then I do something quite naughty; when I take a sip of my hot chocolate, I allow my nose and cheeks to sink luxuriously into the whipped cream and melting marshmallow on top. As I lick one corner of my mouth, I see a flush spread across Chris already rosy complexion.

Youre enjoying having that cream on your face a bit too much, he laughs nervously. Throwing caution to the wind, I scoop some more cream onto my right index finger and wipe it across my cheek. I love how cold it feels against my blushing skin, but what I love more is how uncomfortable my overt messiness is making Chris. I remember that he turned down a game of rugby with me and a group of our friends once because his hair would be a nightmare to wash if it got mud in it. All through the game, as I did indeed get very dirty and enjoyed some light-hearted mud wrestling, the sadist in me couldnt help wishing that he was there so I could totally lather his hair up in the thick muck.

And then, there he is, squirming opposite me as I cover my face in cream. Teasingly, I venture a creamy finger towards his face, feeling my clit harden as he recoils in horror.

You get any of that on me and youre dead, he says, struggling to keep the fear out of his voice. I just love guys who cant bear the thought of getting messy; it makes it so much more fun to fantasize about gunking them up good and proper. I still get wet remembering my first proper boyfriends shudder as I whispered in his ear that I wanted to force him under a deluge of mushy peas. Its no wonder that relationship didnt last, really!

Chris agony over the thought of getting cream on his face is just too good, so I have to lunge at his cheek with my sticky fingers. He dodges me, looking scandalized, before pouring the remainder of my mug of hot chocolate over my head. That I was not expecting. The shock of getting a rise out of such a sweet guy and the trickling warmth of the chocolate makes me close my eyes and drink in the bliss of the moment.

Im so sorry, he gasps, evidently just as shocked as I am at his sudden impulse. I can tell that he is gazing intently at my expression to see if Im angry, and that hes aware that people are looking over at him like hes a massive bastard. I feel awful. Get me back if it would make you feel better, he pleads. I wonder if he noticed the scheming glint in my eyes as I looked up at him from under a fringe sopping with chocolate

Come back to mine with me so I clean up a bit, and well see to your just desserts there, I say, barely able to suppress the triumphant laughter within.

Back at mine, a quick five minute walk of apologetic mumblings later, my whole body is trembling with the electric, expectant pleasure coursing through my veins. The power I hold, the possibilities, are drowning out the guilty voices in my head that are protesting about being so cruel to such a sweet guy.

Take a seat, I smile, failing to keep a stutter of anticipation from my voice. I pull forwards a wooden bar stool for Chris, which he accepts, still looking adorably guilty. Im just going to wash my face.

Spoiler: I wasnt. A quick dash into my bedroom and Id found my handcuffs no explanation necessary I hope. Returning to Chris seated in my lounge, I was struggling not to giggle. I felt so bad knowing that I was going to mess up such a nice guy, a guy Id picked up at my church of all places! He turned to me as I came back into the room, but it was too late to stop me. I had him firmly cuffed to his seat.

You need punishing for what you did, I say, drawing his face up close to mine. But Im going to go easy on you because I like you so much. Heres the deal. I get to smush a pie of my choosing into your lovely face and hair.

At this point Chris winced, and I couldnt help but laugh a little.

Its only fair that you get as messy as I am.

Leaving him squirming in agony, I fetched a pie tin from my cupboard. I waved it in his direction, which only made him squirm more, but to his credit he didnt argue with me yet. Next, I went to my fridge to choose my weapons. I made sure Chris was watching as I decanted thick custard into the bottom of the tin.

No! he whimpered under his breath. I paused to stare at him, before scooping out the remaining porridge from the saucepan Id used to make my breakfast that morning. Looking up again, I found him composing his face into one of stoic resolution. On top of the layers of custard and porridge, I squirted some whipped cream from a can, making sure to get it nice and thick. If he thought I was finished then, I sure wasnt. I topped off my monstrously sloppy pie with heaps of chocolate sauce and honey. The weight of it atop my hand as I carried it towards him sent a shudder of pleasure through my body, and for a second I longed to turn the pie on myself and feel all the cold gloop smashing into my own face. But I resisted the temptation. I positioned the pie on my hand just under Chris beautiful face, so close that the cream was nearly licking his chin. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed.

If you do this, he stammered, Im going to get you back so bad.

I was hoping youd say that, I grinned. You can do whatever you want with me once this glorious mess is all over your head.

I leaned in and kissed him, pressing my lips against his just like Id always longed to. I was surprised by the intensity with which he returned my kiss and lost myself for a moment in the joy of it, before quickly pulling away and smashing the pie into his face while his eyes were still tightly shut.

The sound it made was divine. A heavy, wet thud as the gunk spread across his face and the cream spurted up into his curls. Another wave of orgasmic energy shuddered down my neck and back as I slowly rubbed the tin in circles over his face and pushed it up over his mane of hair, feeling the curls get gummed up in the sticky mess. I left the tin squished down on the top of his head as I undid his handcuffs and stepped back to survey the damage.

Chris sat still for a good minute or so, before raising his hands to wipe his eyes clear. His movements were all slowed down as he took the pie tin from his head and threw it to the floor. For a moment I worried that Id made a huge mistake, that hed truly hated it and that hed hate me. But then I saw him smile under the cream and begin to laugh, and I laughed too as I rushed back over to him to kiss him again. I loved the feeling of the thick globs of custard and oats grinding between my face and his as we kissed, especially where they were all matted into his beard. He tasted so sweet and sticky, and I couldnt resist licking his hairy chin. I was surprised when he eventually pulled away from my kisses, until the warmth spreading through my crotch reminded me what it meant.

You are going to get it so badly, he smiled, unable to entirely pull off the sexy domination voice, but it was enough to get me reeling with expectant pleasure. What I wasnt expecting was for him to force me down onto my knees and rip my shirt open to expose my handsome breasts heaving within their pink lace bra. He cuffed my hands behind my back, and laid me down on my side so he could pull down my skirt, before sitting me back up on my knees in nothing but my pink bra and panties and a tattered shirt hanging loosely around my arms. I felt good. All self-consciousness about my body was gone as I looked up at his deliciously messy face.

I was simply gagging for it as I watched him rummage through my cupboards and my fridge, occasionally pausing to look back at me teasingly. After what seemed like an age, he was back in front of me with a pie tin full of whipped cream and jelly. He set it down on the floor before me and whispered in my ear You shouldnt do things to others that you wouldnt like done to you! With that, he smashed my face into the pie, pushing me down so I was lying on my front with my face buried in the cream and jelly. I loved the feeling of being so powerless and simply having to writhe my face around in the cold, lumpy mess. I was almost bitter when Chris sat me back up on my knees, loathe to leave such a wonderful faceful of muck.

Now, Chris said, kneeling down so he could gaze right into my eyes, even with all the cream gumming them up, I dont think were quite even yet. You are clearly enjoying all of this, and I didnt really like my pie experience all that much. I want to get you squirming like I was. I want to gunge you with something so vile that youll be begging me not to do it.

This was enough to send further shivers of pleasure down my spine as I sat licking the cream from around my mouth. I wished I knew what he was thinking of doing to me, but it felt amazing to have no control over my fate. What was more, he then wrapped my skirt around my eyes, blindfolding me so I couldnt even know what he was getting ready. I listened closely to his footfalls, trying to use the skills I was sure Id acquired watching so many spy movies over the years. I definitely heard the kettle boiling, and the tap running, and lots of cupboard doors opening and shutting. Then all of a sudden, I was being picked up from the ground and held in his surprisingly strong arms.

I thought it was only fair to move this to your bath since this is going to be so horribly messy, he whispered in my ear. I think I let out a groan of pleasure in response. I felt the cold ceramic of the bath against my bare skin as he set me down, and goosebumps rose all over my body. I didnt know what he had in store for me, but I wanted it so badly.

The skirt was removed from around my eyes, and I blinked up at his face, searching for any clue as to what was to come. A smirk of satisfaction sat across his sticky lips, making my clit throb. He kissed me, and then drew back to hold up a huge, black bucket one Id bought purely because of how much gunge it would be able to contain.

Do you want to guess whats in here? he asked. Ill give you this: its vile.

He definitely enjoyed the shudder I gave at that.

Ill give you three guesses, he continued. If you havent got it by then, all of this is going all over you. Your first guess please

Beans? I ventured nervously.

Incorrect, he smiled, shaking the bucket a little so I could hear its contents slopping from side to side.

Gravy?

Wrong again, he laughed. This is your last chance to avoid a truly hideous gunging.

I paused briefly, genuinely worried about what was going to be slopped over me if I got this wrong. At last, I bit the bullet and said Mushy peas?

I knew from Chris face right away that Id been wrong. He looked so pleased with himself, even under a faceful of custard.

Please tell me what it is, I begged, desperate to know what it would be before the gunk hit my head.

Chris simply shook his head and lifted the bucket up even higher. I could sense its presence, teetering above me as I kneeled in the bath, shaking with expectation. I closed my eyes tightly and waited for the first drip to hit my head.

All of a sudden, a deluge of something really thick and lumpy came rolling down me, starting in the centre of the top of my head and slowly crawling down. Its flow seemed to last an age as it caressed my face, then my cleavage, then my stomach and down to my knees. I could feel it running down my back too, engulfing my entire body in its gloopy path. When it finally stopped, I opened my eyes to see what had made such a viscous gunge. It was a strangely dark greeny-brown colour, and congealed in huge globs in the bath around me.

What was that?

Well, Chris smiled. You guessed beans, gravy and peas, and it was actually all three!

I glowered up at him from under my mask of gunk, but he just laughed.

Now lets get you washed off, because Im not going to sleep with you while youre such a mess!

Oh well, Im sure one day Ill find a man who will.