'Tis the season to get messy, fa la la la la la la la la!

***

"It's getting late," Naomi said, hoping Emmanuel would take the hint, stop playing with his new tablet, and notice the decreasingly subtle way she was invading his personal space, but just got a non-committal grunt. 'I really didn't think his Christmas present through, did I?' she thought, annoyed. She tried a different tack. "I think I might have digested enough dinner to have room for dessert. Are you ready for the pudding? It should be about done and it's dark enough now, too."

"Oh yeah, why not?" was only a marginal improvement on his last response, but it was progress so she pushed on.

"It's just it needs eating. There's so much this year with only the two of us. I suppose I should have quartered the quantities in Gran's recipe, but I was still hoping we'd be able to have some friends over..."

The disappointment in her voice snapped him from the hypnotising screen. "I know, love. Next year. It's nice to have just the two of us though, isn't it?" He gave her knee a squeeze and she smiled weakly.

"Yes, it is nice from that perspective." 'If only you'd take advantage of it -- and me.' She kept her bitter remark to herself and sighed. "Well, I'd better get it ready. Do you want all the trimmings?"

"Have we got all the trimmings?"

"Yep. Unless you had a new one you haven't told me about in mind."

"No, no, just the traditional. All of them, go on. It's at least two hours since we stuffed ourselves silly, and passing out in a food coma is definitely traditional on Christmas Day. I'll just watch one episode of 'Game of Thrones'."

"Oh, very Christmassy, Emmy! Alright, one episode, but remember you have a whole week to binge on it, you don't need to watch the whole season tonight."

Naomi left him to it and went to the kitchen where the Christmas pudding had been boiling for the past hour and took it off the stove. To her great satisfaction, nearly two kilos of steaming fruit cake transferred to the dish she'd set aside for the purpose without immediately collapsing under its own weight.

She poured herself another glass of sparkling Shiraz and got out a large saucepan to make the custard. Deciding to make enough for a few days of leftovers, she used a whole litre of milk and hummed happily to herself as she stirred, watching it gradually thicken, mouth salivating in anticipation of tasting it and feeling it on her tongue. As it approached the consistency she desired, she couldn't resist lifting the spoon to cool a sample and dip her finger in it, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger before taking it into her mouth, tongue swirling through the thick, silky substance.

Satisfied, she turned off the heat and poured it into a jug. She got out a bowl and took the new pot of double cream from the fridge, opting to tip the lot in it might be just the two of them, but damn it, she wanted it to look good. It was only when she had taken the brandy butter that she had made the day before out, set it on a tray to take to the dining room along with a tub of ice cream, and turned to the cupboard to get something to dish it up in, that she hit a snag.

"Shit!" The cupboard was empty. 'Of course! Fucking dishwasher. Why did it have to die on Christmas Eve, of all days?' Crestfallen, she contemplated the piles of dishes surrounding the sink, serving bowls and cutlery helpfully buried somewhere at the bottom. 'Fucked if I'm doing those now.' She turned back to the pudding surrounded by its array of prospective toppings and sighed.

Then she got an idea.

An AWESOME idea.

Naomi got a wonderful, AWESOME idea!

Ten minutes later, Emmanuel's watching was rudely interrupted by her insistent calling.

"Pudding's ready!"

"Can you bring it here? There's another twenty minutes left."

"No-o," she sang out. "Come get it now or forever regret it."

Though her tone was playful, it sounded ominous, so he grudgingly paused his show

"Put the carols back on before you come; let's do this properly."

"Will do."

The Choir of King's College, Cambridge singing 'Once In Royal David's City' filled the air as he followed her voice and opened the door to the dining room. Had he been a cartoon, the only thing stopping his jaw hitting the floor would have been the sudden tenting in his pants. The dining table was now bare but for the three candles, the green tablecloth with the red runner down the centre spread out instead on the tiles next to it. Sat in the centre, holding a small pan of warmed brandy, was Naomi, completely naked, with the large dome of the Christmas pudding covering most of the full-size dinner plate between her open legs, the various accompaniments laid out in a crescent around it.

"Take your clothes off," she ordered before he could recover the power of speech. "I don't want to be the only naked one here."

"Why are we naked?" he asked once his clothes had been discarded in a corner.

"To keep our clothes clean. No more questions until the pudding is on fire or the brandy will cool down too much."

With a flick of the lighter in her hand, she ignited the alcohol, then poured the blue tinged flames over the product of her hard work, filling the room with an eerie flickering blue and the aroma of scorched brandy.

"This was always my favourite part of Christmas," she said watching the flames intently until they petered out. "Well, apart from eating it, of course."

She looked up at him, biting her bottom lip, hesitant to do what she had felt an irresistible need to do since discovering the washing up situation. Slowly, holding him silent with her eyes, she dug her fingers into the soft pudding. The extended preparation time had allowed it to cool down just enough to be bearable on her skin, so before his disbelieving gaze she brought the messy handful to her mouth, but rather than pushing it all between her lips, she hardly took a bite before smearing it over her chin, neck and both breasts, accompanied by the strains of 'In Dulci Jubilo'.

"You didn't do the dishes so there aren't enough clean bowls," explained his naked girlfriend, adding another handful of brandy-soaked fruit to the sticky streaks of moist cake she had already spread across her tits. "I had to improvise. Still hungry?"

His eyes bulged as the russet crumbs were crushed into the black streaks of chopped prune and sultana flesh adhering to her skin. He cleared his throat. "I'm ravenous now."

Kneeling next to the plate, evidence of how much he approved of her choice of substitute crockery already rising between his legs, he tentatively nibbled some crumbs and fruit from her cleavage. Then he straightened and opened his arms. "How about you?"

"Me?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Oh!" she cocked her head, feeling a sudden gush between her legs. "Is this a conversation we should have had two years ago?"

"Maybe. Better late than never, if this is what you want."

She gave her answer in the form of a big handful of warm pudding pressed between his pecs and smeared from side to side, showering his cock with crumbs, sultanas, softened almonds, and mixed peel, never breaking eye contact. Both reached for the plate at the same time, fingers sinking into the collapsing confection and giggling together at the texture of the raisins bursting between their fingers before transferring it to each other's torsos. Soon the plate was empty, the last clump in his hand.

"You want to actually eat some?" he offered, and she opened her mouth giggling as he smushed it across her face, maybe a quarter rolling between her open lips before the last was wiped on her chin. He mashed his lips to hers, tangling his sticky fingers in her hair as their tongues met, churning the cake with their saliva between the two mixing bowls of their mouths until treacly lava overflowed down their chins.

"Mmm," she said, pushing him away. "It's good, but didn't you want some toppings?" She nodded at the selection that awaited.

"What first?" he asked.

"Maybe ice cream?" she suggested. He stood, and picked up the tub, searching for the scoop.

"It's dirty, " she said to answer the question on his lips. "You'll have to use your hands for that, too."

"That's not very hygienic," he said to his partner lying on the floor covered in cake.

"We'll just have to use it all then, won't we?"

"A new one litre carton of Carte D'Or?"

She bit her lip and nodded in answer, clenching her thighs. He popped the lid and plunged his fingers into the semi-frozen cream, letting it ooze between them before scooping it up in his palm and holding it over Naomi. The cold bit his skin as he pondered where to deposit the first load.

"Ooh, it's freezing!" she squealed as it landed right between her tits and slowly slid between them in a slick of its melting self.

With an evil grin, he knelt down and squashed more icy dessert over her right breast, making her grimace. He took the opportunity to knead it in, her nipple as stiff as the tip of her little finger and all the ridges and dimples of her areola standing out like brail under the layers of food. She allowed him to freeze her other tit before quickly digging out a handful of her own and slapping it into the small of his back, making him yelp and drop the container. Laughing, they both scrambled to grab some and plaster it over the other before it completely melted into a puddle soaking into the tablecloth.

When the last lumps evaded her grasp, Naomi upended the tub over Emmanuel, a delighted grin on her face as the dregs trickled out over his hair and face. Throwing the container aside, she knelt up to kiss him as it ran over his lips and pressed her body against his, the contrasting textures of cold ice cream and the pudding soaking it up as it melted, squashed between them, combining to form a slimy paste. Their hands roamed ceaselessly over each other, smearing the goo over every surface to transform the most innocuous places into erogenous zones. There was a fire in both their cores that electrified their whole being like nothing they'd ever done before, together or alone.

Soon their lips strayed from each other's mouths and began exploring the sweetened flesh elsewhere. Emmanuel naturally could not resist sucking on her erect nipples, leaving the left one almost clean before Naomi insisted that she have a go. She licked in a slalom run down his torso, teeth occasional scraping a tasty treat from his flesh and tongue digging a sultana out of his belly button. As the choir in the next room launched into 'Ding Dong Merrily On High', she kissed down his matted treasure trail, his cock so erect it brushed her chin.

"Stand up," she said, eyes ablaze with lust.

He didn't need to be told twice. Just the sight of his love gazing up at him with face and hair peppered with crumbled pudding and vanilla-flecked, thickened milk made him moan, even before she dragged her fingernails up the underside of his cock then retraced their path with her tongue. She teased him, licking the little bits of sweetness that had splattered his shaft and balls, but never touching the more sensitive head, then picked up a stray not-quite-melted lump from the floor and popped it into her mouth.

Trying not to laugh too hard as she showed him the treat on her tongue, she leaned in, guiding his cock to join it. He winced, the shock of the cold on his tip confusing enough to stifle the orgasm he was otherwise sure he would have from the beautiful spectacle of his dick disappearing between her lips. With eyes wide and fixed on his, she enclosed him entirely, ice cream squidging between his hardness and her tongue while the run-off dribbled out of the corners of her mouth. As she started to really suck and slurp at his cock, her hand again disappeared between her legs, shovelling more over her thighs and full bush, sticky from pudding and her own secretions that dripped out of her. She touched her swollen folds and ran her fingers between her inner and outer lips, mixing dessert with her arousal.

Emmanuel, at first mesmerised by this show, had to look away to stop a premature end to the unexpected festivities. The jug of custard caught his eye. Glancing back at his girlfriend lost in the joy of sucking his member, one hand over her crotch and the other kneading fresh mess into the breast he had licked clean, he knew what he had to do. The handle was in reach, so he picked it up, aimed carefully and poured.

Naomi didn't even flinch as the pale-yellow sauce splattered onto her head and flowed over her face, momentarily merging it with the cylinder of flesh protruding from her mouth as her features were obliterated. She just continued to swallow him, then pulled back, leaving his flesh mostly clear but for a trail that trickled from her top lip as she retreated, and then took him in again, swirling her tongue even more forcefully, while more cascaded down her hair to run in slow rivulets over her buttocks.

"Oh fuck!" he exclaimed, and she immediately pulled off with a loud smack, the web that briefly kept them connected a combination of drool and custard that only a strong mental effort on his part prevented it being joined by jizz. Naomi wiped her eyes and giggled.

"Good, was it?"

"Well," he replied, "I didn't expect my Christmas pudding stirring wish to come true quite like this! And we haven't even put half the toppings on yet."

"You really do want them all, don't you, greedy boy?" she teased.

"You don't seem to object."

"No, it feels amazing. Give me more, I want to feel that warm custard over me while there's still some ice cream that hasn't melted."

She leant back, hands gripping her ankles and pushing her chest out for him to decorate. He obliged, sending a stream of vanilla-scented gloop onto her tits, coalescing in a river down the valley between them and over the subtle bulge of her belly, pooling in her navel. It built up briefly in the pudding remnants stuck in her pubic hair until they were overwhelmed and the flood flattened the curls to drip onto the tiles beneath. Naomi closed her eyes and moaned, resisting the urge to spread it around. Cold patches of skin thawed under the onslaught of heated custard, but she shivered from the sensations it brought on nonetheless, until the supply was abruptly cut off.

"Why did you stop?" she asked plaintively, though taking advantage of the pause to truly coat her boobs and thighs with the slick liquid.

"That's half," he replied kneeling back down in front of her. "The rest is mine."

"Oh, you greedy WAM slut!" she teased and he looked at her quizzically.

"WAM?"

"Wet and messy. Wait, didn't you know that was what this is called?"

"No, I... I don't know, I just always got hard around dessert time." She laughed. "So I noticed. I thought it was how obviously aroused I get that caused that. Okay, you can have a turn. Shut your eyes."

He obeyed, and seconds later gave a gasp as warm slime soaked into his hair and streamed down his front and back. Naomi helped by wiping her hand all over his chest and legs as it sploshed down, thoroughly massaging it into what remained of the pudding. As it became more of a trickle, she brought the jug down and let it pour over his cock, watching it spasm as it dripped down the side.

The empty vessel joined that of the ice cream, safely out of the way, as the couple became locked in another even messier kiss, their naked bodies sliding together on the now ruined table covering. An insatiable hunger to feel the food on each other consumed them, so very little found its way into their mouths, but any bodily surface that got licked clean was soon dirtied by another handful of the mixture from the floor being slapped on.

In the frenzy to lick and kiss every inch of each other, somehow Emmanuel ended up lying on his front with Naomi sitting on his legs, kneading goo into his buttocks and then slurping it up from them. She got so into it she went where she never had before, and stuck her tongue into his crack. He jerked in surprise, but she had his legs trapped. Curious, she did it again, feeling the ridges of his star. This time he moaned and push his arse back up towards her. That was all the encouragement she needed to dive in, pressing her cheeks between his and invading his pucker with her tongue, rubbing one hand over her slippery tits as she did so.

He bucked and wriggled from her ministrations until she thought he was getting close, at which point she sat up and scooted forward to sit on his back, her buttocks on his. The sensual massage she had been giving him dissipated as she realised her new position and the feeling of power it gave her filled her with another new thrill. Her hand glided up his back until it tangled in his hair, then she balled it into a fist and pulled back, filled with a desire to dominate him now he was pinned to the ground.

"Are you enjoying this?" she asked. Given she knew his boner was trapped beneath him, it was a rhetorical question.

"Um, yes?" he said, a little confused by her sudden aggressive tone, and shivered as she licked his ear to tell him she was still playing.

"A bit of a waste of food though, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't call it a waste..."

"No? Well, I didn't spend all those hours boiling it twice just for it to all end up on the floor. I think you should eat some."

"I have--"

"More! There's a big pile right under you." She dismounted and stood. Emmanuel began to get up but Naomi put a foot on his back and shook her head. "You can't reach the floor with your mouth from up here."

His cock was still twitching when he gave her a questioning look, and since he could tell it wasn't genuine anger, he played along. Getting on hands and knees but no further, he turned to the pile of crumbs that had fallen off them, soaked in the two vanilla flavoured toppings and squashed into the tiles where their movements had scrunched the cloth aside. He extended his hand towards it but she stopped him.

"Not that bit. There, where you've added a little extra."

The "little extra" was the distinct strand of precum that was still attached to his dick. He raised his eyes to see her grinning. "No hands."

He didn't know why, but her new bossy attitude was turning him on even more than seeing her covered in custard, which he hadn't thought possible, so he obediently lowered his face to the pile and started slurping it into his mouth. Her foot on the back of his head pushed him into it further, and then something cool splattered onto his cheek.

"I think it needs more cream, don't you?"

He mumbled agreement and more landed on her toes. She dug her foot into the fragrant ruins, stirring them together, then lifted it up to him. Looking her adoringly in the eye, he devoured it from her toes in a way that made her stop laughing and instead dip a finger in the bowl, emerging white to circle around her nipple.

One foot's tongue-bath was all she could take. She got down with him and kissed his messy mouth, stealing some pudding from it, and then pushed him gently onto his back. She examined his cock, coated in thick layers that made it appear rough and lumpy, like that of the troll in her darkest erotic dreams.

"You should probably clean that before it goes inside you," he said, reading her intentions as she straddled him. Her eyes narrowed.

"Oh, you'd like that, would you? One blowjob not enough?"

"Well, yeah, I would like that. You give them so well."

The newly awakened mean domme in her overrode her susceptibility to flattery. "Nope. You can just clean me out afterwards. I think we need some lube, though." She tipped the bowl of double cream that was still in her hand, drizzling viscous white dairy over his pole until it was glossy and smooth. Then, gripping the base so the excess crept over her thumb and forefinger, she began to lower herself.

"Wait!" she said suddenly, hovering above his creamy cock.

"What?"

"We haven't put the brandy butter on!"

"Seriously? You want me to fuck brandy butter up your cunt?"

"In for a penny, in for a pound," she answered, and stretched over him for the dish. The blended butter and icing sugar had melted so much it was a shapeless blob rather than the neat cylinder she had made it into. She tipped half of it over his already loaded phallus and put the dish aside. "Now it's lubricated!"

The moment she sensed the goo smoosh into her nether lips, she was gone, the build-up of the last half hour igniting in an orgasm unlike any she had ever experienced. Cream, ice cream, custard, butter, and pudding squelched out of her pussy as she impaled herself on him, her body convulsing so she was barely able to keep herself upright.

"Oh fuck!" she gasped as she came back to earth. She stayed still, internal muscles still contracting around his cock. A couple of small lumps, possibly fruit of some kind, moved their way out, squeezed between his shaft and her walls. Emmanuel lay gasping, but had managed to hold off, the layers on his cock acting as a cushion over his glans.

"You're so beautiful," he said, and she laughed weakly from under her mask of congealing food. "Really."

He pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her slippery body to his. They held each other, lips less than an inch apart, hearts pounding. When he went to kiss her, instead of her lips, he encountered her brandy-butter-coated fingers, smearing the lumps across his mouth.

"You said all the trimmings, love," she told him and then kissed him deeply, undulating her whole body to grind her clit against him. Her pace increased, their lips barely staying connected, but she managed to pick up the cream and upend it above them so it poured slowly through their kiss and onto her tits. Bullet-hard nipples rubbed against his skin through the mush covering them as they writhed, and the bowl rolled away to join the rest of the discarded containers.

The wet squelch and slap of their food covered bodies echoed in the room, rivalled only by their moans and cries, drowning out the Christmas music drifting in from the lounge -- which at that moment happened to be a rendition of 'O Come, O Come Emmanuel'. The song's namesake seized one of her breasts and fastened his mouth to it, sucking, slurping and finally even biting at the nipple, which triggered another vocal climax from Naomi. He didn't stop, kissing and biting his way over her chest until she shook and cried out again from another -- the waves kept coming.

Grabbing his head with both hands, she assaulted his mouth again, involuntarily pulling his hair when he ran both hands down the slime on her back to grip her buttocks and then slid a cream and custard lubricated finger down her crack and into her pucker. She completely lost control as he finger-fucked festive confections into her arse, adding one and then two more fingers. Finally, even though her tunnel had barely moved on him, she felt him pulse inside and she ground hard into him, clenching around his length as an entirely different kind of cream filled her. Gradually, her convulsions subsided and she went still, their sticky kisses becoming less lust filled and more tender.

"Merry Christmas," Emmanuel said when their lips parted, and she started giggling, making him wince as her muscles squeezed around his hypersensitive cockhead. Then she stopped and put a hand on his chest.

"I'm still not done giving you your dessert. Lie back."

Puzzled, he obeyed and watched as his girlfriend scraped the mixture coating his abdomen into a pile at the point their bodies met. Bringing as much up his softening shaft with her as she could, she clapped it in her palm to her opening as she lifted herself off him. She scooted forwards, her knees pushing his arms from her waist and then pinning them to the floor as she knelt over his face, looking down just as she removed her hand. Pudding and cream smacked down on his mouth and he laughed, and then let out an, "Ooh!" at the deliciously obscene spectacle of all the festive delights he'd fucked up her cunt oozing out.

He opened his mouth, meeting her eyes over her gorgeously messed up body as she lowered herself, the combination of dessert and his come dribbling into his waiting maw. His tongue snaked inside, tasting her and everything that had been inside her as she ground on his face, her clit brushing against his nose. Her distinctive flavour soon became the dominant one as more and more of her juices leaked out.

With little control over what he could do, he simply lapped at every juicy bit of flesh that passed over his lips. She shifted forwards, pinning his wrists together and humping his face, with little regard for his ability to breathe, although the vibrations of his moans would have told her he was fine, had she not been too lost in her approaching orgasm to care. Shuddering to a stop as her climax broke, her thighs clamped around his ears, blocking the choir belting out 'Joy To the World' and sparing him her deafening cries that the neighbours be complaining about in the morning.

Somehow, the fire just would not be quenched, even when her clit became too sensitive to bear being sucked on. She lifted herself back up, giving him a moment to pull some oxygen into his lungs while she shifted into a squat, before sitting on his face again, this time with her pucker on his lips so his nose was kissed by her swollen pussy lips, cream-caked curls tickling his cheekbones.

Although he'd also never been there before, he didn't hesitate to push his tongue into her star and taste her flavour mixed with the custard he'd finger-banged into her. He remained in the submissive pose she had been holding him in, wrists crossed above his head, looking up lovingly at her as he rimmed her. She pressed her fingers either side of her clit which was all the touch it could stand, and reached back with her other hand to scoop up the food and their combined come that plastered his fallen dick, bringing it to her mouth to taste.

Squeezing her other fingers together to pinch her clit, though it was close to pain, she came one last time. To both their surprise, she squirted, clear liquid gushing over Emmanuel's face. She gave a few last shudders, and then burst out laughing, sliding off him and landing on her back next to him. Their bodies shook with mirth for several minutes. Neither of them was quite sure what the joke was, though the playlist reaching 'O Come All Ye Faithful' at the exact moment she came may have had something to do with it. Finally, they settled, gazing at each other in silence.

"Okay, now you've had all the trimmings," Naomi said and inhaled the aroma that filled the room. Hints of nutmeg, cloves, ginger and cinnamon combined with the fragrance of alcohol-drenched fruit, woven through with the rich blanket of vanilla and dairy but all overlaid with the scent of semen and female arousal. "Ah, the sweet smell of Christmas sex. We should make it a tradition. I'll make more custard next time."

"And buy more cream."

"Yes! Also, although it's American, maybe we should try eggnog..."

Emmanuel propped himself up on his elbows and surveyed the carnage that had been the dining room. Barely a surface below table level had been spared from the collateral damage of splatters. "I think I know what I'll ask Santa for first, though."

"What?"

"A paddling pool."

"Ooh, good idea! This will take you a while to clean up, won't it?"

"Me?"

"Well, you were meant to do the dishes, so it's only fair." Her sweet smile under all the mess killed any protest he might have had, so he just acquiesced with a kiss.

"First though, we should shower. Or have a bath. Come on."

Leaving a trail of even more cleaning for Emmanuel in their wake, they made their way to the bathroom. But Santa would have to find something else for them next year, as the very next day, they went and bought a blow-up paddling pool in the Boxing Day sales.