I Told You So! Chocolate Heaven

"OH SHIT," Sammy Jean Smith screamed as that ice cold water hit her.

"Fuck you, Bobby Boner! Are you HAPPY, now?" My long-time friend looked anything but happy. As that bucket of icy water ran down her face and onto her fine boobs, there was an instant physical reaction. Sammy Jean's nipples stuck out, almost as if they were a pair of daggers trying to cut their way out of Sammy's soaked t-shirt. My best friend had lost a bet, and now she was having to pay off. Ha!

It all began three weeks ago. Well, actually it started five weeks before her messy comeuppance. You see, there was this bet. Sammy Jean bet that San Diego State would defeat the University of Connecticut, otherwise known as UConn, in the NCAA men's basketball championship game. And she lost. Ha! When the Aztecs, as the San Diego team was called, lost, I got to pick four messy punishments to dish out to my best friend.

Now, it's not like Sammy doesn't like to get messy. In the past, she has really gotten trashed. It's just that Sammy hates to lose, at anything, period! And this time, she lost, BIG! My friend had already taken sixteen pies when her bracket got busted wide open in the first round, and then had to take nine sliming's when she lost nine of twelve games in the Sweet Sixteen and Elite Eight because of the earlier losses by tournament favorites.

You see, Sammy Jean had issued a challenge, at work, to anyone she said that 'had the balls' to put up or shut up. Sammy said that she would take a pie for each of her teams that lost in the first round of the NCAA basketball tournament and then take a sliming from cake batter and green slime for each team that lost in the second week. Though a few of our fellow co-workers did take her up on the offer, I wasn't dumb enough to take on that challenge. I knew there were always some Cinderella teams out there, and I didn't want to get messy. Needless to say, when there were so many upsets in the first week, the referee's outfit that Sammy Jean wore was completely covered in pie slop and then again in slime the next week. Ha!

"Why yes, Sammy Jean." After pausing for a bit, I grinned at my friend. "I am very happy. I tried to tell you, but nooooo you wouldn't listen. You made the bet. You lost. Now it's time to pay the piper!"

"Bobby Boner," Sammy said rather snippily.

"Yes, Sammy Jean?"

"BITE ME!"

But I just started laughing.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

"Okay, the name of the game is," I said with a haughty sneer, "I picked UConn. You picked San Diego State. I won. You lost. And now you have to get messed up . . . I get to trash you with four items, and I just used my first one. HA!"

Sammy was shivering from the soaking I had given her. Her immaculate hairdo was ruined. Sammy's beautiful hair was hanging downward, with water streaming down her face and over her shoulders. The soaked, white, t-shirt revealed her, uh . . . assets, Ha! Sammy's nipples were rock-hard as her boobs strained that soaked fabric to its limits. Some of the icy water had even run down and stained her baby blue, ruffled, mini-skirt. Where that water had landed, made it look like my friend had . . . well . . . like she had wet herself. Ha!

Wow. Those tits are hard as a rock. Ha! I feel a little action downstairs myself. I wonder if that is why Sammy calls me Bobby Boner.

Now, however, as Sammy Jean saw me roll out that cart, loaded with gooey chocolate pies, a look of trepidation crossed her face.

"Fuck!"

Seeing the contents of ten VERY large pies, and knowing where they were going, just about sent her over the edge.

You motherfucker!

"Bobby Boner, if you think you're going to . . ."

"Ah, but I do. I do, Sammy Jean."

And then, I did! I slammed the first of those ten pies into Sammy Jean's startled face.

That monster of muck literally exploded when it hit Samantha Jean Smith's face. Brown goo and white fluff went everywhere as the chocolate filling and whipped cream completely covered my friend's face and most of her scalp. The mop of wet hair that Sammy had spent $250 to have done, just right, the day before was a total wreck as chocolate glop slithered up and over most of her scalp while the white of the whipped cream made a distinct contrast in color.

As far as Sammy Jean's face is concerned, though, WOW! It looked like a muck bomb had detonated on her face. Sammy's face was covered in brown goo. Only the whites of her eyes showed through that slimy muck.

You fucking bastard . . .

"You son-of-a-bitch . . . I ought to . . ."

SPLATTTT!!!

But before Sammy Jean could finish her tirade, I let her have another pie in the face.

Ha! That ought to shut her up for a little while.

"You son-of-a . . . ooh . . . Bobby, so help me. I will . . ."

"What darling. What will you do?" I said in a deceptively mild tone. "What do you want to do?"

"Nothing, you fucking bastard. Just get it . . . ooh . . . just get it . . . it over with. Just get it over with."

I could tell Sammy Jean was really getting steamed.

Shit. I have to take eight more of those. And then . . . oh fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

"Bobby . . . Bobby Boner, just get it over with . . . okay. Please, hurry it up, so I can get cleaned up. Okay!"

"Okay," I said softly. But then I slopped two more of those brown muck monsters onto her face, one on each side, in what some would call a 'pie sandwich.'

Her face was all but obliterated from all that chocolate muck I had plastered over Sammy's impeccable make up. I couldn't tell whether she was laughing, crying or just plain angry.

As chocolate goo slithered down her face, I laughed at the sight of Sammy Jean standing there, flexing her knuckles as if she wanted to punch me out. As more of that brown muck ran off her chin, Sammy's shirt started to acquire a tannish-brown hue.

"You're enjoying this. Aren't you, Bobby?"

"Most definitely," I responded with a shit-eating grin. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun."

Yeah, keep it up, asshole. It'll be my turn one of these days. Then we'll see who has the last laugh.

"You just wait until it's my turn. We'll see who's laughing then."

Now, however, as I slowly crept up to Sammy Jean, I picked up two more of those messy pies. Sammy's eyes got wide, as she saw me precariously balance a third pie in the crook of my arm, as I approached from her right side.

"Uh . . . Bobby, what are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing, Sam, nothing at all," I said with an impish grin on my face.

"Why are you holding three pies?"

"Oh, no special reason."

But then I stumbled, or so it appeared.

And the first of those pies landed in Sammy's face just as she opened her mouth to say something else. And the other two, by some strange coincidence, landed on her boobs, first her left one, then the right. Ha!

SPLAT, SPLAT, SPLAT!

Cute . . . real cute

"You know, Bobby, you're a real jackass. One of these days, one of these days I'm gonna . . ."

SPA-LATTT!!!

"OW!" Sammy Jean screamed half in pain and half in rage. That HURT! You Fucking Bastard. I'm gonna . . ."

SHIT! That hurt!

After my last messy assault, Sammy Jean had stepped into a big pile of the slippery mess and stumbled. Bending over to regain her balance, my best friend provided too tempting a target for me to resist. Sammy has a fine, very fine, derriere, one of the best asses I have ever seen. And with it stuck up in the air with only a thin layer of cloth for protection, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Now, that pie should have provided some level of insulation as it was a real monster, with three full inches of chocolate pudding but no whipped cream in the flaky crust. I guess I got a little excited, though, and over-exerted myself. When that pie hit, it sounded like the crack of a high-powered rifle. Chocolate goo went everywhere. Sammy's skirt was covered with brown muck all over the back. As brown sludge ran its way down her legs and onto the back of her heels, Sammy started massaging her butt in order to lessen the sting.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I am going to . . ."

Oh, you fucking bastard. You son-on-a-bitch, I am so going to make you pay for that.

Now as I stood back and looked at my friend, all covered in chocolate muck and whipped cream, I felt a stirring in my loins, if you get my drift.

Sammy Jean's head looked like World War III, being fought with chocolate muck, as that brown goo had landed all over it. Chocolate gunge covered every square inch of her head. And her formerly white t-shirt was plastered with brown muck, some of which had run down onto the front of her beautiful blue skirt. My girlfriend's mini skirt, which barely covered her magnificent ass, was a thin piece of baby blue cloth, designed more to enhance the view, rather than cover Sammy's womanhood. But now, I lifted the front of that muck-stained piece of manufactured fabric so that everyone could get a good look at Sammy Jean's thong.

I really don't know why some women would choose a thong. I just don't understand. I mean, it looks uncomfortable. But boy is it sexy. And then I slammed a chocolate pudding pie into Sammy's crotch, completely engulfing her pussy. With a loud squeal, she voiced her displeasure.

"How dare you!"

But before my friend could continue, I finished her off with a really, REALLY big chocolate pudding pie to the face. This one was all but overflowing with pudding as I had poured four inches of the brown muck into that pie shell. With a very loud splat, that missile of muck added an insurance layer of chocolate to Sammy Jean's already trashed face.

And with that, my second round of messy forfeitures to Sammy was over. She was a complete mess. And I was laughing my ass off.

As I stood there, watching that chocolate slop ever so slowly run down her chocolate-covered torso, before falling with a splat onto Sammy's once beautiful pair of heels, I could see a new wave of anger cross her muck-covered face.

Oh you son-of-a-bitch . . . you just wait until I . . .

"Great . . . just great," Sammy Jean said as she tried to flick a big glob of that chocolate muck onto me. She missed, however, as I ducked.

"Oh, you just wait, until I get hold of you, Bobby Boner," my long-standing girlfriend said, with a sigh! "Then, it will be My turn."

But now, her eyes got wide, when Sammy Jean saw me bend over and lift up a very large bowl. And then when she saw what was in it, I heard Sammy quietly say, "Oh Shit!"

You see, I had picked up a big, a Really big bowl. And it was overflowing with chocolate pudding. Sammy Jean knew what was going to happen next.

"Bobby Boner, what are you doing?"

"Why, I'm getting ready for your next round of punishment, Sam!"

"WHAT!" Sammy exclaimed. "You can't do that. You already hit me with ten pies."

"Yes, but that was all part of the punishment. Remember, I get to do four things. The first was the cold water, the second were the ten pies. I still have," I paused a bit to grin at her, "I still have TWO more things to do to you. And have I got just the right things. Ha!"

Oh Fuck! That bastard . . . SHIT!

"Fuck!" But after a short pause, Sammy Jean put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chest. "Okay . . . buddy boy . . . Do your best. But get it over with."

And then she added, "but your time is coming. You just wait and see."

For now, however, I pulled up a chair and climbed on top of it. I wanted to do this just right. Ha! And as I looked down on Sammy Jean's chocolate-covered body I felt a very large bulge in my shorts. And I'm sure everyone else could see it.

"Hey Sammy," I said in a soft voice.

"What Bobby Bow-Nerrrrrrrr," she replied, playing the part.

And when Sammy Jean looked up, I upturned that large, very large, bowl of chocolate pudding over her head and onto her face.

SHIT! That's great. Just fucking great. I am SO going to get that bastard!

With a loud splatting sound, followed by a lot of smaller pitter-patter ones, that brown muck first struck my girl's face before falling to the floor. That thick, and yet, gooey chocolate pudding completely engulfed her head. For a full thirty seconds after the bowl had been emptied, chocolate gunge continued to slither down Sammy's face and onto her boobs, before rolling down her taut stomach and then falling onto her once pristine shoes. Once again, Sammy Jean Smith was a thorough mess, some might even call her a trainwreck. And I was laughing my ass off.

OH! You just keep it up . . . you . . . you . . . you laughing hyena. You wait until it's MY turn. Then we'll see who is laughing. HA!

But now, it was time for the grand finale. As I picked up that giant pot, you know the kind restaurants use to boil pasta, I think they call it a stockpot, I waddled my way to that chair. That pot was heavy, with the contents of three giant-sized jugs of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. There were twenty-two and one-half pounds of brown, so dark as to be almost black looking, chocolate slime. And as I stood on that chair and looked down into Sammy's eye's I saw a different look, one of almost longing anticipation. Sammy Jean was licking her chocolate-covered lips. And she was smiling.

Smiling! Smiling, she's actually smiling. WOW!

From the look on her chocolate-coated face, I could see that Sammy Jean was actually getting excited. And then, she did something that really surprised me. Sammy Jean smiled and then winked at me.

Fuck! She's not mad.

And then, Sammy Jean spread her arms out wide, tilted her head to where her face was looking up, very invitingly, at me. Then she said, "Go for it!"

She said it. So, I did it. I went for it. I started pouring that Hershey's chocolate syrup all over Sammy Jean's face. The stream, light and slow, at first, hit my girlfriend right between the eyes just over the bridge of her nose. Sammy, who had her eyes shut against the slime attack, started smiling. And that smile got bigger and bigger as my chocolate barrage quickly enveloped her pudding-covered face. As that sticky 'black' syrup covered Sammy's face and then her entire head, I felt my dick getting really hard. But that was okay. Because I could tell by the way that Sammy Jean's nipples poked out of her slime-covered shirt that she was getting as turned on as I was.

WOW! Look at those tits! I could just . . .

Excited more than ever, I kept up the pour, finally upturning the entire pot over Sammy Jean's head. With a loud splashing sound, the remainder of that chocolate goo engulfed Sammy until she was completely covered with chocolate slime. And as I watched the black liquid flow down Sammie's head and face, then over her boobs, completely soaking her t-shirt, before covering the front of her pale blue mini-skirt and dripping onto her long-since ruined heels, I felt my rock-hard dick straining against the front of my shorts and even my khaki pants.

Oh Wow! Oh Wow! Oh Wow!

Then, in feigned anger, Sammy Jean ripped off her chocolate-soaked shirt and flashed her naked boobs at me.

"Ha," she said, "Take a look, a good look, a good loooongg, look, Bobby Boner . . . because it's the last time you'll ever see them."

Then, she stuck out her tongue, reached down and picked up two big handfuls of the chocolate muck . . . and smeared it all over her boobs. Sammy kept doing this for about a minute, but then slipped (accidentally, of course, HA!) and fell in the slimy goop. Getting hot and bothered by all that mucky chocolate, she started rolling around in it and smeared handfuls of the muck over her face and head and even her boobs. When finished, Sammy Jean perched herself on her knees, kind of like a cat, threw out her messy chest, and with a mischievous grin, said, "Was it as good for you, as it was for me."