A 4th of July Sequel: Brooke and Bobby Battle at the Pool

"Wow, you really know how to throw a party, Brooke," I said as I picked up a monstrous chocolate cream pie.

Brooke Maddison, my dear friend, had invited me over to her place on this Saturday afternoon. It was a little cool but not unseasonably for a late fall afternoon. Since I parked on the street, I had let myself in by way of her patio.

To my amazement, though, I found just about every square inch of the pool-side patio covered with folding tables. And every one of those tables was loaded down with delightful treats. There were dozens upon dozens of pies and cakes as well as bowls of pudding and even mousses. An entire side of the poolside was loaded down with tables stacked with two-liter pitchers filled with custard, some of which were the ordinary, or yellow, variety while others had chocolate or strawberry flavored custard. There must have been nearly one hundred pitchers of this sweet elixir. And opposite them were tables filled with tall, almost elegant, pitchers full of chocolate and strawberry syrup. Again, there must have been around one hundred pitchers of these sticky, pourable toppings.

In one corner, there was this huge stainless steel bowl. And it was full of . . .

Hmm. Let's see . . . what is that?

"Hmm. It tastes like brownie batter. And there must be at least . . ."

At least one hundred gallons of that stuff. Yeah . . . must be a hundred. But It doesn't look quite right. Hmm . . . oh it looks a little watered down. Almost like . . . cake batter? Maybe? I wonder what it's for.

"Hey Brooke," I called out to my best friend after picking up that huge chocolate pie, "What's this for?"

Brooke Maddison is a beautiful woman. The most beautiful, I've ever known. With her dark, some would say raven-colored hair, and pale complexion, Brooke's body was exquisite. She is a modern-day sex goddess, one who would rival or even surpass Venus, the Roman Goddess of Love and Beauty, otherwise known as Aphrodite to the ancient Greeks. Wearing a very sheer, virtually see-through fuchsia, or pink, colored button-down blouse to go with a black, leather pencil skirt, Brooke was a complete knockout. Her six-inch, stiletto-style, black, patent leather pumps were the perfect accessary for this outfit. She was even wearing those dainty gloves, pink of course. You know the ones high society ladies wear, the ones that go up to the elbow and are absolutely worthless when it's cold. And that hat. All I can say is WOW!

I really don't know how to describe it, but I'm going to try. The hat that resided at just the right jaunty angle on Brooke's head was a perfect match for her blouse. Topped by a pink, low crown, the wide, floppy brim of Brooke's hat, was virtually see-through. Some type of pink flower adorned much of the hat. And the way Brooke wore her headcover, it dipped down and covered most of her face. I don't know how she could see because, from my point of view, both eyes were covered. But it was the exact same color as Brooke's top.

Some people call it a Church hat, others a Wedding hat. I think the proper name is "Tea Party Hat Jumbo Feather Flower Floppy Wide Brim Woman Sinamay Dress Hat." That is, if you have enough time to say all that. Ha! Some women, unofficially, call it a Kentucky Derby Hat. Being from Tennessee I know all about the Kentucky Derby. And having been to a horse race, I have seen a lot of women wear hats like Brooke's Sinamay, but not one of them ever looked as good while wearing her hat, as Brooke did. I said it best at the beginning. WOW!

For a former military man, like me, the nomenclature would be the M508: Hat, Dress, Female, or something like that. For a guy from the south, who doesn't know the first thing about women's headgear, we might call it, 'that pink floppy hat thing.' Ha! All I know is Brooke said it came from MillineryByAnna and cost under $200. And she looked amazing in it.

But now, as I stood there holding that 'oh so gooey' chocolate pie, Brooke said, "Leave that alone, Bobby."

And as the raven-haired beauty from the west side of England hurried over while carrying a big bowl of chocolate pudding, she added, "You leave that alone, Bobby. That's not for you, it's for my next shoot."

"Your next what?" I said in surprise.

As Brooke Maddison, my girlfriend, the woman I had fallen in love with, set down that bowl of brown pudding she reached for the pie I was holding.

"Here, give me that!"

"What," I said, startled as my friend tried to take that huge chocolate pie away from me. "Why? Why should I give it to you. There are plenty of others" I stated while looking around.

"Because . . . I . . . said so," Brooke responded. "That's not for you."

"What do you mean?" I said, not relinquishing my hold on the delightful dessert, "There are plenty of other pies."

"But that's not what they're for," my beautiful girlfriend said. "Now let me have it," Brooke said as she tried to twist the pie out of my hands.

She wanted it, so I let her have it.

Unfortunately, for Brooke, she gave a really hard jerk just as I let go of that pie.

And with a loud SPLAT, that monstrous chocolate cream pie went all over Brooke's beautiful face.

"Ha, hmm . . ." I tried to hold in a laugh, but it escaped, nonetheless.

Brooke Maddison was a mess. When I let go, the pie went straight into Brooke's face and with a resounding splat, all of that mucky goo went everywhere. Whipped cream and brown goo slathered up on top of Brooke's head and covered most of her scalp.

As for the majority of that chocolate glop, though . . . well it landed on Brooke's face and when it did, she underwent a very radical transformation. Brooke Maddison's face was completely covered with chocolate pudding, and she was a mess.

"Oh shit . . ." The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them.

"I'm so sorry, Brooke."

"Sorry. Sorry! OH, you're going to be sorry," my friend said while scraping as much brown muck from her face as she could.

"You are going to be so sorry," my friend said as she reached down and picked up one of the cakes. It was a 'Chocolate Overload' or a chocolate on chocolate on chocolate cake. The cake, a four-layer chocolate fudge monster, had an inch of chocolate mousse between each layer and then another inch of chocolate buttercream frosting on the top and down the sides.

"I'll show you sorry!"

"Now, Brooke, let's don't be hasty," I said as I started to back up. "Why don't you put that cake down and we can talk about this."

"Oh, I'll put it down alright. I'll put it down right on top of your head."

But in the next second, as Brooke walked toward me, I saw her stumble as one of her high heels got caught on an electrical cord running across the patio. And with that, Brooke lost her balance and down she went. And when she fell, Brooke's face landed squarely in that big, Big chocolate cake.

This time, I couldn't hold back my laugh.

As Brooke slowly came to her feet, with scrapes on her knees and the palms of her hands, I got a good look at her face.

WOW! Oh, is she gonna be pissed.

Where the chocolate pudding pie started the destruction of Brooke's impeccable makeup, the cake finished it. As Brook stood there, chocolate glop, which was the only word I could use to describe all the brown muck that covered every square inch of her face, was slowly cascading down over Brooke's overly large boobs.

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed very softly.

"You . . . you," I could see a real storm cloud on the horizon. And that was called Brooke Maddison.

As she pointed a grimy finger at me, Brooke gathered up what little dignity she could muster.

"I am going to . . . arghhh . . . shiiiitt!"

As she headed my way, Brooke stepped into a big pile of that slimy goo. And once again, she found herself falling. And unfortunately for her, Brooke's hand, in reaching out to gain a momentary retrieve, hit the corner leg of one of those tables filled with mess.

And when she did so, the table came crashing down, along with twenty-two very large cream pies of all sorts. And they came crashing down onto Brooke Maddison.

Splat, splat, splat, splat, splat, splat, over and over, splat, splat, splat, splat. As Brooke sat there, dumbfounded, a wave of mucky pies descended down upon her head and torso. There were chocolate cream pies, banana cream pies, cherry and blueberry cream pies, cream pies of all sorts. One was even a caramel cream pie, with all that ooey gooey burnt sugar. When that pie assault ended, Brooke Maddison was . . .

WOW!

"Oh shit. I can't . . . oh shit," I said in a very subdued voice. "She is going to be so fucking pissed."

"Shit . . . FUCK!" Brooke exclaimed at the top of her voice.

As I looked down upon the grime-encrusted woman that I loved so much, my manhood started to come alive.

"You're liking this . . . aren't you, you fucking asshole!"

Boy, she can sure cuss like a sailor when she gets mad.

"WELL, aren't you?"

Oh wow. She is so hot.

"Well, to be honest . . . yes!" And I had a big shit-eating grin on my face as I said that.

"Well, are you just going to stand there Bobby? Will you give a girl a helping hand . . . please?"

Her tone had changed now, one of almost pleading.

And silly me, I felt compelled to help. Wrong answer.

As I reached down to give my love a 'helping hand,' Brooke grabbed hold of my arm with both hands, and the next thing I knew I was flying through the air to land with a splat in about two inches of slimy goo.

"Uh hum," I whispered as I wiped multi-colored glop from my eyes. "That went over rather well."

As I looked over at Brooke, still sitting on her magnificent ass in all that slop, I saw a look of smug satisfaction cross her face.

"Ha! How do you like that, buddy boy?"

As I slowly regained my feet, I found myself looking into that large glass bowl of chocolate pudding. And there must have been at least five gallons of the rich brown muck. Now, that bowl sat on a table half full of pies. And that table was only three feet from the love of my life.

Brooke saw me eying the potential round of messy ammunition and instinctively started trying to retreat by sliding her butt across the slimy concrete.

"No, you wouldn't, would you? You wouldn't do thaaaa . . . Bobby?"

"No, please . . ."

"No, Don't you DARE!"

But I did. I dared. I did it. Ha! And with a big splatting sound, I dumped all of that chocolate pudding over the top of Brooke Maddison's upturned head, catching her squarely in the face.

That mucky torrent of brown mess left Brooke spitting and sputtering as she ingested a fair amount of the pudding and even inhaled some. As that slime ran down her face it congregated on her magnificent breasts before working its way down her stomach and thighs toward the pavement by her knees.

Wow, oh wow. Is she hot. All that chocolate pudding on her boobs. Wow. I would so love to lick them clean.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Brooke growled in a low but very distinctive tone. "You are so dead. If I ever get hold of you . . ."

Her eyes lit up in alarm, and then Brooke Maddison exclaimed, "What are you . . . No . . . don't you dare . . . WAIT!"

For Brooke had seen me pick up two pitchers, each holding two liters of custard. And one of them was the chocolate kind. And before she could do anything, I tilted those two instruments of messy destruction over Brooke's head.

With a loud splatting sound followed by several pitter-patters of liquid custard, as one gallon of slimy mess, half brown and half yellow descended onto Brooke's more than messy face.

This time, though, Brooke was able to close her eyes and mouth in time. But it didn't matter when that new wave of messy slime rolled over her face; Brooke looked like the big blob of slimy chocolate and yellow goo that was still dripping off her head.

I was laughing so hard, having the time of my life, as Brooke finally regained her feet. She wasn't just dripping chocolate goo. It was like she had become a fountain of chocolate and it was pouring off her body. I don't think I have ever seen a human so messy. Even when Brooke and I spent the afternoon playing in the mud, she wasn't this filthy.

Now, as I looked at her, I saw a look of determination cross Brooke's mucky face.

Uh oh. I wonder what that look is . . .

"You're going down, buddy boy," Brooke shouted as she charged me.

Caught off guard, I could only look helplessly as 125 pounds of hard charging feminine, fury swept me off my feet. When Brooke hit me with that lowered shoulder it was like an NFL linebacker had blasted into my sternum. As she kept driving with her muscular, though feminine legs, I felt myself flying through the air and over the threshold. And then with a very loud splash I hit the water of her pool, with Brooke Maddison holding on for dear life.

Shit . . . she . . . she . . . oh hell.

"What the fuck," I laughed as I got a good look at my adversary. As I stood up in four feet of slightly chilled water, I gazed upon the mucky sight that was Brooke Maddison. What had been, just an instant before, a walking blob of chocolate muck, now stood facing me with slimy goo rolling off her in sheets of brown-watery ooze.

And as I stood there, looking at this most delicious of creatures, Brooke started laughing. And then so did I. And there was another thing that happened to me. I got a first class hard-on.

At first it was just some soft chuckles between two very good friends. Then it became a rip-roaring, side-splitting, laughter between two very silly people standing, dripping-wet with brown-colored slime, in a swimming pool.

"Oh Bobby. I love you. Have I told you that . . . today, I mean . . . I . . . love . . . YOU!"

"I love you, too, baby," I replied as I kissed my sweetheart on her lips. We held that kiss for a long time, a very long time. Then we slowly climbed out of the pool.

Now, there were four long tables on the near side of the pool. And each one was covered with pies or cakes of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

And as my feet reached the surface, I saw Brooke eyeing all that mess on the nearest table. Then, with a sideways glance toward me, Brooke was off and running for the table, with me right behind her.

My sweetheart reached that table first and was reaching for a gooey caramel pie. As she reared back to throw it, though, I plopped a big chocolate pudding one into her face. As brown goo flew everywhere, Brooke, now blinded, missed me by a whisker as her pie sailed over my head.

"Ha," I said, "you missed me."

SHIT!

"Fuck, stand still you bastard."

"Okay, I'll stand still," I said while picking up two banana cream pies."

"NOT!" I came back with a snide comment, as I plopped those two pies in a classic pie sandwich on both sides of Brooke's face.

SPLAT!

Although she was dripping water from all over, Brooke was, once again, starting to acquire a healthy load of goo on her head and over her face.

With a quick swipe of her left hand, however, my good friend managed to clear enough of that brown and yellow muck from her eyes so she could see me. And her accuracy was improved this time, as Brooke's coconut cream pie made contact with my face, from a distance of three feet.

With a loud splat, that off-white creamy substance made short order of my newly cleaned face.

"Shit," I laughed, and then I hurled a strawberry cream pie into Brooke's startled face.

And then it degenerated into a knockdown, drag out, tit-for-tat pie fight between Brooke and me. In no time, Brooke and I had gone through the pies on that first table and then started in on the one next to it. In less than two minutes we had taken over forty pies, from four tables, and managed to cover each other in pie glop of all colors. To say we were a mess would be an understatement.

Ha! Look at us. Look at me. Oh Bobby, I love you so much!

"Oh Bobby, I so love you," Brooke said as she smacked her mucky lips against my grunge-covered ones. "I love you baby."

"I love you too, honey. More than life itself."

Then it was on to the next table. And as I rounded the corner of those now empty pie tables, I came up short as I spotted dozens of two-liter pitchers spaced over four tables on the far side of the pool. And to my delight what did I see. Each of those pitchers, a couple dozen per table, were filled to the rim with chocolate and strawberry syrup. Some of the pitchers even had caramel sauce. Hershey's, now, has three different flavors of syrup.

Now, I love Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. I love to pour it over ice cream, to make chocolate milk, for baking purposes. Hell, I even like to add it to my Coca Cola from time-to-time to have a chocolate coke rather than a cherry coke. But now, as all that dark brown slime stared me in the face, not to mention the pinkish-strawberry syrup, I knew what I was going to do next.

Brooke had tried to beat me there, however my longer legs, plus being much less encumbered by muck than Brooke, allowed me to reach my target first. And poor Brooke trying to stop on a dime, had her feet slide out from under her as all that slime on the bottom of her six-inch heels proved to be her downfall.

Now as her right foot slid into my left, I looked down on Brooke's muck-covered face with a sardonic grin. "Ha! You should try out for the New York Yankees, baby!"

"Oh . . . fuck," my sweetheart said through really mucky lips, "I am so screwed."

Shit! He's really gonna trash me.

I grinned. I smiled. Then I upturned two pitchers of liquid chocolate over Brooke's upturned face. In an instant Brooke's face already covered with so much goo, was inundated with a full gallon of dark chocolate, almost black, looking, slime. As the Hershey's syrup hit her face, Brooke gave out a startled scream, followed by a torrent of dirty epitaphs.

"You son-of-a . . . you fucking son-of-a-bitch!"

But her words of wrath were quickly drowned out by the next two pitchers, this time of the strawberry goo, which I had picked up, only to pour over Brooke's upturned face.

"You BASTARD," this time she screamed the word at my retreating back. "I'm going to kill you!"

My retreat ended, however, as I picked up two more pitchers of the messy slime. This time I had one of each, the chocolate in my right hand and the strawberry in my left.

Oh no! Not again. Bobby, you had better hope I don't get my hands on you.

"Shit, Bobby, I hope you know what is in store for you when I can get up?"

I just grinned at Brooke and shrugged my shoulders.

I do, baby, Oh I most certainly do.

Now, as I started to pour that slimy goo, I took my time. As I poured that concoction of liquid mess, I turned those pitchers up enough to get a fine but steady stream of, first chocolate then strawberry syrup falling over Brooke's head. As she sat there by the pool, legs spread out, arms folded across her chest, Brooke had the most stoic look I had ever seen on anybody's face. As I slowly covered half her head in another layer of almost black slime while pink goo flowed down the other side, I could feel extreme fury welling up within the beautiful model who sat at my feet. Brooke's look of dismay turned to anguish. Then it turned dark as Brooke Maddison's anger showed through.

Oh boy, I am so in for it.

"Oh well, better get my licks in while I can."

"What was that, Bobby?"

"Oh nothing, baby. Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

Yeah, go ahead. Keep it up. Go ahead. You just wait until it's MY turn.

When I finished with those pitchers, I made my way to another table that had more mess. They were custard. These were the bright yellow, or original custard.

"What! More custard?"

"Well, I didn't want those to feel left out, baby."

"Don't you baby me, you bastard. OH SHIT!" Brooke cried out in a tortured tone.

Shit, that custard must have been REALLY cold.

As those two pitchers drained their liquid mess upon the top of Brooke's head, I was already eying my next items of messy assault.

"Haven't you finished YET? Don't you think I've had enough"

"Well, now that you mention it, honey . . ."

"What are you talking about . . . NO!"

But I was already raising another two pitchers, this time of the pinkish goo known as strawberry custard. And when I started pouring that thick slime, Brooke started cussing again. But this time, she wasn't screaming at me, at least not at first. This was a more low-key chewing out like only a marine gunnery sergeant could dish out.

In between rants of, "I'm going to kill you," Brooke would intersperse, "you son-of-a-bitch<" or "you fucking bastard." And then there were some terms of not-so-endearment that I did not recognize. I poured another two pitchers of chocolate custard over Brooke's head, followed by another two of the strawberry flavor. By now, Brooke Maddison was a complete trainwreck. But I think what set her over the top was when I picked up four pitchers of the chocolate muck and dumped them over her upturned face all at once.

"YOU SON-OF-A-FUCKING-BITCH! I am so going to kill you!"

Oh, you bastard. You fucking bastard. I will kill you if it's the last thing I ever do.

Having ingested a fair portion of that slimy slop from my last assault, Brooke was gasping for breath, and coughing, while trying to clear her nose and throat of the brown muck.

"You . . . you . . . you fucking . . . bastard!" Still coughing and hacking up brown goo, Brooke Maddison gave me the most evil look I have ever seen.

It would get worse, however, as my eyes turned toward one of the tables that had nothing but Hershey's chocolate syrup on it. These, too, were in two-liter pitchers. And there were an even dozen of them.

"NO, oh no, you don't," Brooke coughed out an almost laughing chortle. "You are NOT, going to pour that shit on me!"

Brooke was scooting backwards on her mucky rear end even as she spoke.

"BOBBY, I swear, I will kill you . . . if you pour all that shit on me." Then, as an add-on, "DO YOU HEAR ME, You son-of-a-bitch! I WILL KILL YOU!"

But I wasn't hearing her. Not really. LOL! I was having too much fun. And there were twenty-four liters or just over six gallons of liquid mess just waiting for me to unleash. And I did!

As I poured the first of those pitchers of black liquid slime over Brooke's head, she was cussing like a sailor. And she was loudly vocalizing her choice of words. By the time, I had dumped twelve liters of Hershey's finest chocolate syrup over Brooke's head, she had grown quiet. And now as Brooke took the last six pitchers of that liquid goo over her head and shoulders, she became a simmering cauldron of built-up rage. When I was finished, Brooke Maddison was so covered in messy slop that she resembled an abdominal muck-monster covered in black goo. There was not a single inch of Brook that did not have that slimy black syrup covering it.

Now, however, as I stood back to gaze upon the masterful masterpiece of mucky maidenhood that I had created with Brooke Maddison, I finally started to realize just how much trouble I might be in. Oops!

As Brooke slowly regained her feet, she kicked off her ruined heels, to get better traction in all the slimy muck on the concrete patio. Never once taking those smoldering eyes off me, my girlfriend, my baby, the woman I loved more than life itself, walked over to me. Stopping one inch from me, Brooke looked into my eyes.

"Sit down."

She said this as Brooke pointed to a nearby chair that had somehow managed to avoid any of the slimy muck that had been unleashed upon Brooke and her patio.

I looked where she was pointing. The chair, only a dozen feet away, was beside a ten-foot by four-foot table to the right of the pool. And on that table were two dozen pitchers of custard. But these weren't the chocolate variety that I had done so much damage to Brooke with. Half of these two-liter pitchers were filled with the yellow, or original custard while the other twelve carried the pinkish-tinted strawberry custard. I knew what was in store for me. And I knew I deserved it.

Oh shit . . . well, the ride was good, while it lasted. Now, it's time to pay the piper.

Again, Brooke repeated those two words.

"Sit down."

She didn't shout, she didn't even raise her voice. Brooke just said, "sit down."

I sat down.

When I started to speak, Brooke said, "Shut up. Don't talk."

So, I shut up. I didn't talk.

Then, Brooke Maddison unleashed her own reign of terror on me. It started with a pitcher of the bright yellow custard, and she poured it over the top of my head, tilting my head so that my face took the brunt of this assault. Next, it was the strawberry custard, followed by more of the yellow kind. Brooke Maddison emptied all twenty-four of those two-liter pitchers of custard over my head, my face, my body, and yes, even over my private parts. Brooke Maddison was going to get her last full measure of revenge.

And she didn't do it quickly like I did. Brooke took her own sweet-ass time. It took right at half an hour for Brooke to finish the dastardly deed. At one point, Brooke covered me from head to toe with the pink slime of strawberry custard. Later, she used six pitchers of the original yellow custard to make me look like a lemon popsicle. During the entire gunging, Brooke never said a single word. Neither did I. I was too scared.

Using my thoroughly trashed tie, Brooke stood me up. Then she walked to a table that still had a few pies on it. There, after taking her time to search for the messiest ones, Brooke picked up two gooey chocolate cream pies and returned to where I stood.

Expecting the worst, I braced myself for what I knew was coming. I was wrong.

Although Brooke did give me a pie sandwich, it was not like I expected. Setting those pies down on that now empty table that I had sat by for so long, Brooke reached over and undid my belt. Then she unbuttoned my trousers and unzipped my fly. The next thing I knew, Brooke had pulled my pants down around my knees.

OH shit. Why is it they always got to go for a guy's balls.

Now, as she picked up those pies, Brooke gave me a big grin. One of those shit-eating grins you hear about. And then she slammed one of those missiles of mess onto my ass and the other into my groin. And she really ground them in good. My tidy whities, which until then had remained pretty clean, were ruined for all time.

Fuck! Might as well throw them away. There is no way I will be able to get that stain out.

"How do you like them apples, Buddy Boy!" Brooke said with a haughty sneer in her voice.

"Uh . . . hmm, okay . . . uh . . . not . . . not too bad. Uh, not bad at all, baby," I said as I slowly pulled up my mucky pants and belted them in place.

"But now, I have something for you." And then I forced Brooke down into that slime-coated chair I had so recently been held prisoner in.

"What are you going to do?" Brooke asked in a timid voice.

Her eyes bulged out when Brooke saw where I was looking.

"NO! No you don't. Don't you DARE!"

But I didn't listen to her. On a nearby table were large bowls of pudding. Most of them the chocolate variety. And I was heading toward the first one, when she spoke.

With a loud splatting sound, I emptied the first of three large bowls of chocolate pudding over Brooke's head.

"SHIT! You Fucking Bastard, I am so going to . . ."

But her next words were cut short as I poured the second bowl, and then the third one onto Brooke's muck-covered head.

Now chocolate pudding is probably my favorite mess. It definitely tastes the best. And the texture of pudding . . . well, it's so creamy. And where most substances will run down, but ultimately off the body, pudding just seems to stick and fill every nook and cranny. And that was exactly what happened to Brooke Maddison.

As I quicky upturned and poured not one, not two, but three of those large bowls of chocolatey goodness over Brooke's head, she just sat there, and dispassionately took it. When the last of those fifteen gallons of chocolate slop had finished running it's course, Brooke looked like a mucky mound of mess. With chocolate goo covering every square inch of Brooke's body, she was so hot.

Wow . . . I can't believe how hot she has become. Brooke, you look like . . .

"Wow, Brooke you look amazing, absofuckinglutely amazing." Then I added, "I want to eat you right now!" This last, I said with a grin.

"Well, why don't you."

As she sat there, in several inches of goo, mucky Brooke spread her legs seductively. Using the back of just her thumbs, Brooke swiped away just enough of that brown muck so she could see clearly. Taking her tongue, Brooke bewitchingly ran it over her pudding-covered lips. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. My dick, which had been flirting, off-and-on, with going full hard-on, now majestically popped up and stood at attention.

"Come here, baby."

She didn't have to say it twice.

As I knelt beside my love, Brooke started unbuttoning her pink blouse. Once she had removed that chocolate-soaked piece of silk, I unhooked the sheer bra that had barely restrained her massive double-D breasts.

Finally freed from the restraint of that pink-lace bra, Brooke's boobs popped out. I quickly grabbed big handfuls of the mucky brown pudding that was all over Brooke's head and body, even from the patio surface, and then started slathering it over her tits. Brooke's boobs, which until then, were mostly clean, were not anymore. Ha! As I massaged that muck onto Brooke's bare boobs, they quickly became brown like the rest of her body.

And she eyed me while I was doing that dastardly deed to her magnificent breasts. As Brooke sat there with her legs spread, I could see up that short black skirt. And I'll tell you what, I got an eyeful because Brooke was only wearing a thong, a pink thong to match her lacy bra. Much more of Brooke's most intimate parts was open to view than what that piece of cloth covered. And I loved it.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Bobby," Brooke said in her most seductress voice. "I thought you were going to eat me?"

"Oh, I am," I said, "I most certainly am."

"Chocolate covered pussy is one of my favorite dishes," I said as I picked up a big chocolate cake from the nearest table. But I think you need a little more chocolate."

"Oh really," Brooke said, batting her eyes at me. "Don't you think I am already covered in enough chocolate?" She laughed a little at her faint humor.

"Nope," I grinned, and then I slammed that chocolate cake right on top of Brooke's boobs.

With a loud splooshing sound that large mound of messy mayhem exploded as it hit Brooke's breasts, splashing chocolate muck everywhere. Some even reached her mucky face, not that you could tell any difference. Ha!

As that gooey cake broke up and crumbled, I slathered it all over Brooke's muck-covered torso and her enormous breasts, all the way down over her belly and to that magic junction where her great legs came together. And as I did this, my girlfriend, the woman I loved more than life itself, cocked her goo-covered head back, and started panting softly. Sucking in air through muck-stained teeth, Brooke Maddison started moaning as her body swayed to an unknown rhythm that only she was aware of. With the edges of my chocolate-soaked 'pinky' fingers, I started massaging her boobs.

OH baby . . . that's so . . .so . . . oh baby. WOW!

"Oh Bobby, that is so . . . keep it up. Please, don't . . . don't stop!"

"Oh baby, oh baby," Brooke's soft chant was barely audible, but I could understand it.

Yes, yes . . . oh yes. That is so . . . yes. Do me baby. Do me good.

"Oh Bobby . . . oh baby . . . that is so . . . good. Let me have it. Please, let me have it all."

So, I let her have it. I picked up a pitcher of chocolate custard and poured it all over Brooke, starting with her face. As I covered her breasts with a layer of chocolate muck, I took my thumbs and forefingers, and continued to tickle her tits. Then, as Brooke's back arched, I took her breasts into my mouth, one at a time, and I started sucking on those messy orbs of delight.

As I sucked and licked all that gooey chocolate muck from Brooke's boobs, she started to get really excited. Some people use the term, horny.

Using my Tom Selleck, or mustache, to good use, I lightly dusted Brooke's bountiful boobs as I swept away layer after layer of brown, messy muck. And Brooke loved it.

As Brooke sat up straight, I started kissing her, first on her breasts, before working my way up her chest, then her neck, before coming to an end at her mucky mouth. While my hands titillated Brooke's gunge-covered breasts, my tongue corralled her chocolate-coated lips.

For several long minutes we embraced like that. My lips on hers, my hands roaming over Brookes' chocolate-covered breasts. While I did that, Brooke' gunge-covered fingers held hold of my mucky ass.

Hmm. OH yes, baby. That feels so good.

Brooke had a certain way of getting the most out of me. And one way was by running her hands over my behind. Even through several layers of brown muck, a pair of pants and even my grunge-coated underwear, Brooke's roaming hands were really getting me excited.

Now it was my turn, as Brooke reached up and started unbuttoning my trashed shirt. What had started the day as a pristine white dress shirt, now had several layers of brown muck on it.

Well, she might as well rip it off. This shirt is trashed anyway.

And then, as if reading my mind, my sweetheart did just that. With a mighty heave and a ripping sound, Brooke gave a great tug. Mucky buttons flew everywhere. Now it was her turn to start playing with my chest.

"Ouch," a soft sound escaped my chocolate-stained lips as Brooke's mucky nails gently pinched my hard nipples. Then she reached in and pulled me to her. I gasped as Brook Maddison started sucking on my nipples.

Oh wow . . . wow . . . that is so . . . Oh, WOW!

Now, as Brooke gently removed the remnants of my shirt, we both knelt there in all that chocolate goo, covered in chocolate slop, with Brooke titillating me by moving her gunge-coated lips across my chest. Then she picked up a pitcher of Hershey's chocolate syrup.

Looking into my eyes, she smiled. Then Brooke Maddison turned that two-liter pitcher of liquid chocolate over my upturned face. As that slimy muck ran down my face, over my chest, and then down to the floor, it covered a large swath of me in chocolate goo. And I loved it.

Using the palms of her hands, Brooke smeared that chocolate muck all over my chest. Then she lowered her head down to where my rock-hard dick was bulging in my muck-covered pants. Then with a quick twist, Brooke Maddison unzipped the fly, again, and my pecker popped out. And when it did, that cock stood straight and tall. And then Brooke Maddison, my girlfriend, my sweetheart, my love, took my manhood into her mouth, and started giving me a first-rate blowjob I would never forget.

After a few seconds of this, Brooke looked up and with a twinkle in her eye, she reached out and grabbed a huge handful of chocolate pudding from a pie that had somehow gone unnoticed. Then she slathered that delightful slop all over my dick, before going back to her mucky work.

Oh, how great it felt. The longer Brooke sucked on me, the harder my dick got. Finally, I could take it no more. White hot jism shot out all over Brooke's lovely, gunge-coated face as she tried to disengage but failed to do so in time. Pulse after pulse inundated Brooke's mucky face, some even going up her nose.

I had to laugh as Brooke started choking on my cum.

Ha! It's your own fault, baby. You're just too good at what you do.

Finally, after almost a minute, Brooke was able to catch her breath.

"Ha! Are you alright, baby?"

With tears streaming down her chocolate-coated face, Brooke responded in a hoarse, raspy voice, "Do I LOOK alright to you?"

But then she smiled, and I knew everything was going to be okay.

Oh baby. That was so amazing. Unbelievable. WOW!

Now I started playing with Brooke's boobs again. But not for long. I slowly slid her tight, leather skirt up, all the way to the waist. Then I reached in, and with a quick twist, I snatched away Brooke's thong, fully exposing her mucky cunt. And without further ado, I started eating Brooke Maddison's messy pussy.

As I chowed down on that mucky treat, Brooke shivered and quivered. Every few seconds I would reach out and grab a handful of chocolate muck to slather on her pussy. Then it was back to lapping away at her most prized possession.

Moving slowly, oh so slowly, I let my goo-covered lips do their work on her gunge-soaked labia, or the outer-most lips to Brooke's pussy. And she would squeal each time my Tom Selleck stroked the inner ring of defense to Brooke's most inner workings.

Gently reaching down with my chocolate-stained hands, I opened wide the doorway to Brooke's most treasured prize. Then like a striking serpent, my tongue darted through that chocolate covered doorway to pleasure. And as I lapped at Brooke's messy pussy, she would let out a soft grown while quivering in anticipation. As Brooke's breath quickened, I reached up to the nearest table and grabbed another of those chocolate pudding pies. Without warning, I slapped it down onto Brooke's pussy.

She reared up as Brooke all but came unglued from the messy deed. Now, using nothing but my grunge-coated face, I pushed the mucky chocolate up into Brooke's pussy. She really squealed when that cold chocolate hit her hot pussy. But Brooke squealed even more when the tip of my tongue darted in and struck her clit.

Oh Bobby . . . Yes . . . oh Bobby . . . YES . . . Do It . . . DO IT!

So, I did it. I ate Brooke out and then she came. I felt it when Brooke released a light, sort of salty, spray that hit my face. Brooke Maddison shivered and quivered as her body was racked by a multitude of orgasms. Five, six, seven, maybe more, I don't know how many orgasms Brooke had.

Oh My God! Don't stop . . . Bobby . . . Don't stop. Please, Do me.

So, I did her. Time after time, my tongue tantalized Brooke's g-spot, or the tip of her clit. And each time, she came just a little bit more. Finally, with a massive shudder Brooke Madden let lose a torrent of chocolate tinged feminine juices. And then she was spent.

Then we laid there, for the longest time, in several inches of cum-soaked chocolate right beside Brooke Maddison's swimming pool. Finally, when our breathing bodies had returned almost to normal, Brooke took my hand.

"Come with me, Bobby . . . please," she added. My sweetheart led me to the corner with the large stainless-steel bowl. The one with all the chocolate in it.

"Baby," I asked as I pointed to the dark mess in the bowl, "what is that?"

"It's brownie batter, but I watered it down with some milk to make it smoother, more elastic. It's just better this way. Trust me, baby. It's better this way."

"Yes, but what are we supposed to do," I said with a knowing grin.

"Why we get in it, of course," Brook said with a twinkle in her eye.

"And then what?" I asked while fondling Brooke's mucky breasts again.

Wow, Brooke Maddison, you are amazing.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I have always wanted to have sex in a big bowl of chocolate."

The way she said it, was just so funny, I burst out laughing. And pretty soon, Brooke joined in. I mean, think how crazy this whole thing had become. For over an hour, Brooke and I had heaped all kinds of sweet muck on each other. She had knocked me over into the swimming pool and then we went right back to getting messy. We were completed covered in messy glop. We stood there, even now, half naked, with only my khaki pants and her pencil skirt separating us from total nudity. Oh, and I had eaten her pussy and she had given me a really great blow job. And then, to top all of that, my baby, my sweetheart, the woman that I loved more than life itself, just announced that she wanted to have sex in a really big bowl full of chocolate.

Brooke Maddison, you are . . . truly . . . amazing!

And now, after our laughter died down, Brooke got all serious looking. I looked at her. And she looked at me. Then I did what came naturally. I gently picked up Brooke Maddison, carried her over to that big bowl of chocolate mess, set her down in the muck, and then I climbed in beside her. Part of that brown goo slopped over the side of the bowl, but I didn't care. I kissed Brook. She kissed me. Then holding our breaths, we both dunked our heads completely under the chocolate slime.

After that, Brooke and I got REALLY messy. We threw that chocolate batter on each other, slathering it over our heads, continuously dunking each other's head in the muck. Grabbing hold of each other, we rolled around and over in the dark brown muck. And finally, as we came up for air, after the last time, Brooke looked in my eyes and then burst out laughing. I followed suit and very quickly our little tit-for-tat mucky adventure turned into something more.

As my chocolate covered hands roamed over Brooke's magnificent muck-saturated body, I felt a reawakening hard-on, or erection start to stir down there, if you know what I mean. And as my fingers gently caressed Brooke's enlarged nipples they seemed to get even bigger. I couldn't see the areolas, under all that chocolate, but I could feel them as they responded to Brooke's passion. With chocolate goo dripping off our hair, our faces, hell everywhere, Brooke Maddison started kissing me, first on my lips, then my cheeks, my chin, and my chest. My dick got even harder when she started tugging on My nipples with her teeth.

Wow . . . oh wow!

But she wasn't' finished. Brooke's tantalizing mucky lips moved down from my chest to my abdomen, and then further south if you catch my drift. As I knelt there, Brooke Maddison's lips quickly engulfed my hardened dick. And then she started sucking on it. Taking her tongue, Brooke would maneuver it over and under, and all around my testicles.

Slowly, ever so slowly, at first, my darling, my love, sucked all that brown grime off my cock, and then she continued by cleaning off my balls, too.

Oh wow, oh wow . . . that feels so . . . so . . . good. Thank you, Brooke Maddison.

But now, I stopped "the love of my life." As I gently pushed Brooke's messy head back, I went down on her, slowly kissing her chocolate-coated lips, then down to her enormous breasts so covered with an ample coating of delicious chocolate. And I loved every second of it.

Oh baby. Oh baby, OH baby . . . that is so, so . . . so . . . so good. Yes! Keep it up. Please keep it up.

After licking her mucky boobs clean of the chocolate, I continued southward, though, and after I reached the treasure junction between Brooke's legs my mucky lips quickly latched onto Brooke's chocolate-filled lips. And as I licked her lower lips a light spray of salty chocolate speared out and settled onto my startled face.

Now I pulled back and looked into Brooke's amazingly clear eyes. I smiled. She smiled. I smiled again. And Brooke smiled again. Then I mounted Brooke Maddison and, very slowly, I started to fuck her.

In and out. In and out. With each thrust of my massive hard-on, Brooke would shudder. Just a little at first, but then more as her passion arose.

In and out. In and out.

Oh yes. Oh Yes. Oh YES!

In and out. In and out. As I kept thrusting my chocolate-covered dick into Brooke's goo-saturated pussy, I looked down upon Brooke's serene face.

Wow. She looks so peaceful. Just lying there. Moving in a slow-motion rhythm to my pace. My rhythm.

In and out. In and out. Brooke's breathing started to quicken. So did mine. In and out. In and out.

Suddenly, Brooke's eyes popped open. The startling contrast of the whites from her eyes compared to the deep rich brown, almost black color of the chocolate that saturated her body was enormous.

Wow. You are amazing, Brooke.

"Bobby, can I get on top?"

"Please."

I didn't have to wait. Or to hesitate before answering.

"Yes, dear . . . of course."

I actually liked it when Brooke wanted to be on top. As she straddled me, I gave up control, but gained so much in return. Brooke could fit me in to suit her. And I got to look up at Brooke, to see her beautiful face, that beautiful smile, all while playing with her boobs. As Brooke went down on me, I could come up to meet her. I could get so much better penetration. And I knew how much that meant to Brooke.

That was the main reason I liked to be on the bottom. Because it made Brooke happy to be on top. The look of pure joy on my angel's face was a measurement of satisfaction that could not be paralleled when Brooke was riding me, and that made me happy.

Wow. Just look at her. Look at her go.

Brooke opened her eyes again, and stared straight at me, with a look of pure joy.

"I love you, Bobby," she mouthed the words. My lips moved and my reply was the same.

I love you too, baby.

"More than life itself!"

"What was that baby?"

"Oh nothing, Brooke. I was just talking to myself."

Now, however, the intensity picked up. Up and down. Up and down. As Brooke ground her lovely, chocolate-coated hips on my legs, and I rewarded her thrusts with a counterjab by my elongated dick, our passion quickly reaching toward a crescendo.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Faster and faster, we went. While Brooke controlled the pace, I kept massaging her mucky boobs. Finally, with one last, deep, thrust, I exploded. White hot cum shut up my shaft and made contact with the sweet spot in Brooke's pussy. As I came, over and over again, so did Brooke. Her climax coincided with mine.

It felt like I had ridden a massive roller coaster which came to a sudden stop, just like an F-18 fighter jet going from 140 miles per hour to a screeching halt as the pilot trapped the number one wire. One second, we were fucking our asses off, the next, nothing.

Oh Wow! Man, what a ride.

"Thank you, Bobby. Thank you so much."

Far fucking out. Bobby's the best. He' the best piece of fucking ass I've ever had.

Brooke all but collapsed onto my messy chest. I could feel her heart beating, it seemed like a mile a minute, as she laid there with her extra-large boobs pressing into my chest. As we laid there, spent like an M-16 round that had run out of steam as it made contact with an enemy in combat, Brooke started licking my right nipple. And, as we laid there, I played with Brooke's messy hair.

Boy is her hair fucked up. And just a short time ago it looked like she had come out of a high-quality hair designer's salon.

As we laid there, more, or less decompressing, I felt Brooke's racing heartbeat slow down to a more manageable rate. As my dick went down, Brooke's nipples, so rock-hard a bare minute before, were softening, returning to a more compliant state.

"Hey baby," I whispered in Brooke's mucky ear, "have I told you how much I love you?"

The look my lover gave me was all I needed.

"Oh yes, baby," Brooke said with a bewitching smile, "every day."

And I love you, too, baby.

"I love you, too, baby."

Now, as I looked at Brooke Maddison's beautiful, but oh so messy face I couldn't help but want to pinch myself.

Thank you, God, for letting this wonderful creature walk into my life.

As we laid there, calming down, returning to normal, I turned over and looked at Brooke's beautiful face still dripping chocolate goo.

"You know, baby, it's a good thing I don't smoke."

"Ha!" with a twinkle in her eye, Brooke responded, "How's that?"

"Well, if I did, this is where we would be laying on our backs in all this chocolate muck, with chocolate goo running down our bodies and we'd be smoking a cigarette and saying, "was it as good for you as it was for me?" And then we burst out laughing.

After we finished laughing, Brooke got all serious like and said, "you know, Bobby, I should be pissed at you."

"What . . . . why? What'd I do to you?"

Now, with a serious look on her face, Brooke looked me dead in the eye and said, "you fucked up my shoot."

"Oh shit," I said snorting chocolate mucus out of my nostrils as I burst out laughing. And as a big grin crossed Brooke's chocolate-covered face, I couldn't stop laughing. In the next instant, Brooke was too. And then, we were going at it again.

Brooke's the one who started it, but I didn't need any encouragement. After she threw a big handful of that chocolate muck on me, I reached over and dunked her head in the unbaked brownie batter.

"Shit . . . shit, fuck. What are you trying to do to me, Bobby? Drown Me!"

But she had a grin on her face, so I knew Brooke wasn't really mad at me.

"No, you just look so much better with all that brown glop dripping off your head."

"Oh yeah. Well let's see how you like it." And then Brooke lunged at me.

But I dodged her impromptu charge, and Brooke did a face plant of epic proportions.

SPLATT!

"Shit!" Brooke said as she came up with brown slop running off her body.

As laughter racked my body, Brooke responded in a querulous tone.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are one mean motherfucker, Bobby."

"Well, now that you mention it . . . NO!" I said while keeping a straight face. "I don't believe anyone ever has."

And then, before she could say or do anything, I did a header, in that brown muck right beside Brooke. As I came up, dripping chocolate goo, Brooke's bewildered face showed her shock. And then, she burst out laughing.

"Oh, Bobby. I so love you," and after a short pause, Brooke added, "I really do."

"I love you too, baby. More than life itself."

But then something caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something so incongruous that it shocked me into total silence. Floating on the water, in the corner of the pool nearest us, was a sight so strange that it boggles the mind. There was that pink hat, barely floating on a miniscule wave, not more than five feet from where Brooke and I sat in all that mucky chocolate batter.

And though, water-logged, Brooke's Kentucky Derby hat was relatively clean. Her stylish headgear was virtually spotless. Despite being knocked from her head by that first pie, Brooke's hat was not marred by a single messy item. Even after everything we went through, and as messy as we got, the most amazing thing about that hat was its near pristine condition. Although wet, there were no tell-tale signs of the pie that had knocked it off Brooke's head.

"Hey Brooke," I said, as I got up to retrieve her water-logged headgear, "Look what I found?"

"MY HAT!" Brooke looked ecstatic. "I don't believe it. I thought that was ruined." My baby, my love, looked so happy at the sight of her Derby hat.

"How did you . . ." Her look of utter joy quickly turned sour, however, as Brook saw what I had picked up. "NO, You wouldn't . . . you wouldn't, would you?"

As I picked up Brooke's pretty, pink, floppy, hat in one hand, I, also, picked up a pitcher of Hershey's chocolate syrup in the other.

"You wouldn't . . . DARE!" Brooke said in a hushed tone.

But I did dare. I did do it. Ignoring the angry look on Brooke's face, I poured that chocolate slime into the upturned crown of Brooke's hat. And I kept pouring as I walked over to Brooke.

When I reached Brooke, I held that no-longer pristine headpiece over her bowed head while continuing to pour that chocolate goo into the hat. By now, however, Brooke's cover, a term we used in the military for a hat, was full of the almost black looking syrup, and it couldn't hold anymore. As I kept pouring the slimy stuff, the overflow of chocolate goo started cascading down and onto Brooke's face. As the chocolate muck hit Brooke's head it parted company like Moses parting the Red Sea. Half of the mucky slop ran down the right side of her head while the rest of the brown goo slithered onto her left side, where it flowed down and over her left breast. It was the most erotic thing I ever saw, and I immediately got a new hard-on.

With a sigh, Brooke took a deep breath and looked at me.

"You Bastard."

Yep . . . guess so. HA!

"Maybe . . . maybe, I am. But if so, what does that make you?"

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED . . ."

"Nothing. But . . ."

I grinned as I saw Brooke's eyes widen n concern.

"No. Don't you . . . DON'T YOU DARE! You Fuckin' BAST . . ."

But it was too late. With a deft twist I took that hat, with its crown full of Hershey's finest chocolate syrup and then plopped it down onto Brooke's head. Dark brown, almost black slime immediately flooded down over Brooke's mucky face.

You fucking son-of-a-bitch. I am going to kill you.

"You bastard. That's going too far. I am so going to kill you."

Yeah . . . well, I could die a happy man.

"What's that, baby? About the four hundredth time that you were going to kill me." After a pause, I added, "Do you think you ever will?"

WHAT . . . are you mocking me, Bobby?"

"No! Oh no . . . no, I'm not . . . I'm not mocking you, baby."

"I'm really not. I'm laughing with you, not at you."

I guess it was my radiant grin that did it. Either that, or Brooke just finally saw the humor in everything that had happened. Either way, her face lit up as Brooke started to chuckle. And then slimy goo shot out of her nostrils as she tried to, but could not, hold back a torrent of laughter. And as my baby burst out laughing, I did, too. And then, we were rolling around in that chocolate slime again.

This time, when we finally came up for air, Brooke looked down at my throbbing manhood, once again hard as a rock.

"Oh baby, what have I done to you. She smiled a quick little sign of pleasure.

"Oh, I don't know, baby, you just bring up the best in me." My eyes dance as I said that, and Brooke, once again, started laughing.

But as I started fingering Brooke's mess-filled pussy and she tickled my balls, a phrase kept coming back to me. "Make-up sex is the best kind." And you know what? It really is!

An unspoken look passed between us and in an instant, we were both completely naked, as Brooke slithered out of her muck covered skirt, while I kicked off my trashed trousers. And before I could react, Brooke dropped to her knees and started sucking my dick.

Oh baby . . . oh . . . yes . . . yes baby. That is so good.

"Oh wow. How do you do it, baby," the words escaped my chocolate-coated lips.

"Oh Brooke, Darling, you are amazing."

I almost came right then, as Brooke took her mucky hand and tickled the bottom of my balls. But I really almost lost it when she slathered a big handful of chocolate gunge all over my dick before returning to her wonderous blow job.

"Uh Brooke . . . if you're not careful, with the position you're in, I may blow your head off. I'm just about ready to . . ."

"Well, don't hold back baby," Brooke said with a bewitching smile, "hit me with your best shot."

Ha! That probably wasn't the wisest choice of word, for in the next instant, I shot my load, my entire load of built-up, hot cum. And that stream of chocolate-laced jism hit Brooke squarely between the eyes.

Blinded by the onslaught of my massive chocolate-tinted masculine juices, Brooke fell back, with a startled yelp, into that chocolate bowl.

"SHIT," Brooke exclaimed as she sat there trying to wipe chocolate and cum from her eyes. "When am I going to learn?" But as she sat there in all that chocolate slime, Brooke gave me a dazzling smile. "Was it good for you baby?"

Again, she carried that bewitching smile, that naughty, mischievous grin.

"Oh yeah, baby. It was good for me. So good for me." And after a short pause, I knelt down in that slimy goo beside Brooke. "Why don't you let me show you how much I appreciated it."

"Oh, will you baby."

"Oh yes. Yes, I will." And with that said, I started eating Brooke Maddison's mucky pussy, again.

Oh yes . . . oh wow . . . yes . . . Yes . . . YES! Do me Bobby. Do me good, real good.

As Brooke laid there, flat on her back, with her head just barely out of all that chocolate muck, I went to town on her. Every few minutes I would slap another handful of that brownie batter into Brooke's messy pussy. Each time, as that cold slop hit her hot cunt, Brooke would yelp, just a bit. And each time my darting tongue slapped her chocolate-covered clit, Brooke would squeal. As her passion flamed, Brooke started to moan. As she shivered and quivered from raw pent-up sexual desire, Brooke started a soft chant. Barely heard, but I quickly picked up on it.

"Do it . . . do it . . . do it, Bobby . . ." Over and over, she repeated thus seven words.

She wanted me to do it, so I did it. As my Tom Selleck tickled her g-spot, Brooke squirted chocolate-tinted feminine juices onto my mucky face. That last time, when my devilishly wicked tongue tapped the end of her clit, Brooke all but exploded just as I had earlier. I received a mouthful of pure nectar as Brooke stretched out to almost her full height. I quickly slapped two big handfuls of chocolate onto her jutting breasts and Brook came again.

Yes . . .Yes . . . Yes! Oh yes . . . What a ride, Bobby. YES!

"Thank you, Bobby. That was so . . . Thank You!"

"You're welcome, baby. You are most certainly welcome."

Then I leaned in closer. And using a small pitcher, I started scooping up that chocolate mess, and I poured it over Brooke's head, then face, and then over her boobs. Over and over, I poured that liquid muck onto Brooke until she was even more covered in chocolate glop. And she loved it.

"Brooke," I whispered.

"Yes," she opened her eyes and looked mischievously into mine.

"Do you . . . want me . . . again."

Her dancing eyes and the way she licked her mucky lips told me all I needed to know as Brooke looked at my hard dick.

Yes, baby . . . yes . . . I want you."

So, I took her, right there in all that mucky chocolate. I took Brooke Maddison. As I slid my slime-coated cock into Brooke's red-hot chocolate-soaked pussy I felt a shiver go through her body. As I started to pump it, she stated moaning again. With each thrust, Brooke yelped, her pent-up sexual tension being relieved with each shot.

In and out, in and out, over and over, in and out. As we reached our sexual peak, Brooke's fingers left their marks on my back. Fortunately, Brooke wasn't one of these women who had miniature daggers for fingernails.

In and out, in and out. Brooke reached up with two big handfuls of that chocolate muck and smeared it on my face. And I loved it. With each thrust, I felt Brooke loosening up. In and out, in and out. Now it was my turn to cover Brooke with more of that chocolate muck as I picked up the pitcher again. Finally, after covering her face and boobs with another dose of mucky mess, I poured an extra pitcher into Brooke's quivering pussy as I pulled my dick out just long enough to fill her pussy. Then, with one massive final thrust I shot my load into Brooke's quivering pussy. And Brooke, who later said she could feel my load all the way up in her tonsils, had her own orgasm, as we came together.

Wow! What a ride . . . Bobby. What a ride.

Wow. You're amazing Brooke. Absolutely amazing.

"Bobby."

"Yes Brooke."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Brooke. I love you, too!"