Mud on the Water: A Messy Sequel


"Hi Florita," I shouted to my Latino lover as I spotted her entering the carnival from across the concourse. I waived, heartily, in response to the almost frantic beckon from where she paid her entrance fee. Not wanting to miss my sweetheart, I had arrived thirty minutes early.

Now, as my fair maiden all but threw herself into my arms, I twirled her around like a ballerina as she kissed me, long and loudly, on my lips, in front of God and everyone.

"Oh baby, I am so glad to see you!"

I grinned at this beautiful lady who had captured my heart. "Me too, baby. Me too."

Now as I sat her down, I got a good look at Florita. Everything about her was immaculate. From the big-brimmed, yellow floppy hat to her matching heels, my Latino lover was decked out as a golden ray of sunshine. Her Beachside Bunny Carola lace sundress was bright yellow. And from my vantage point, I got a good look at her more than ample cleavage.

Wow, even her underwear is yellow.

Looking at my Latino bombshell, it wasn't her wonderful boobs that always caught my attention, it was her amazing ass, as Florita had the most delectable rear end I have ever seen.

Oh wow! I just love that magnificent butt, the way she shakes and wiggles it, ever so . . .

"WOW," that word just leapt out, escaping my lips even before I realized it was gone.

"What's that, baby?" Florita's dazzling smile could always get a rise from me. And down there, too. If you know what I mean. Ha!

"Oh nothing, baby . . . I was just . . . never mind." But I was grinning when I said it.

Wow, he's looking good today.

As Florita took in my black, designer-shorts and baby-blue polo shirt, she said, "you're looking very, very, sporting today honey."

"Thank you, baby," I replied. "And may I say that beautiful dress shows off your radiance even more than ever."

"Awe, thanks, Bobby. You're too kind."

Though she was blushing, I could see my remarks had made my girlfriend very happy.

Now, as we walked hand-in-hand through the main concourse and onward to all the many rides and displays, shows and gaming booths, Florita and I were, once again, like little kids, enjoying a day at the carnival.

We rode the rollercoaster and soared to new heights on the Ferris wheel. We had our pictures made at one of those silly photographer's booths where you can dress in one of many costumes. In our photo shoot I was dressed as a big game hunter complete with long, though toy, rifle by my side. Florita was looking really good in an abbreviated "Jane" look. You know, as in Tarzan and Jane. Wow is all I can say.

We visited the Big Top. And though, not a circus, per se, this one did have jugglers, trapeze artists and even clowns doing their crazy antics. Then we made our way to the back portion of the festival. There we found a really large tent in the farthest corner away from the hustle and bustle of the main entrance.

As we walked in, Florita's eyes lit up at the floral show. But then again, she always did love flowers. Amazing floral arrangements from all over the region adorned this entranceway to the arts and crafts section of the show. There were dozens of hand-made quilts and tapestries along one side. Fine linens and knittings of all sorts showcased the area to the left side of the tent. While to the right side . . . WOW!

Wow! That's all I could say, as I viewed row upon row of beautifully made cakes and pies.

I don't believe what I am seeing. This is . . .

Turning to Florita, my look of shock must have surprised her.

"Yeah! It's a little overwhelming at first, baby," she said with a wink.

"But people come from all over the country to try for a blue ribbon in many areas. The baking show is probably the most popular of all the shows."

"And," she continued, "it's not just cakes and pies. In addition to the other baked items, like cookies and tarts, there are all sorts of chocolates, including many varieties of home-made fudge."

"But that's not all," Florita continued, "there are meats and cheeses, jams and preserves, breads and rolls. There is even a section for vegetables . . . though I know how much you hate them. Ha!" This last she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Now, as my eyes wandered over row after row of prize-winning cakes and pies sitting upon dozens of tables and even benches . . .

Wow! There must be hundreds of cakes . . . and just as many pies, too.

There were at least thirty-six rows of tables, each piled high with delectable desserts of all kinds. There must have been well over one hundred cakes, and probably twice as many pies. Plus, there were huge bowls of puddings, each containing at least five gallons, or as the people of South America would say, twenty liters. There were all colors and flavors, from plain vanilla to butterscotch with strawberry, or perhaps cherry, mixed in with banana puddings. In addition, there were orange, lemon and even grape or possibly blueberry flavored puddings. Plus, rice puddings were also included as was my personal favorite, chocolate. There were even multiple flavors of mousse along with the puddings.

Then, there were pitcher upon pitcher of custard, from the regular kind, with its bright yellow or golden tint, to chocolate and even the newer strawberry version. Plus, there were homemade candies and cookies of all kinds. This was a kid's paradise.

Now, as we walked down one aisle and back up another, I noticed a disturbance at the back end of the first row. A couple of clowns appeared to have gotten into a little tiff. One was male and the other was a lady clown. I could tell by her extra long hair and big boobs.

I don't know what she said, but the male clown picked up one of those pies and slammed it into her face. And before I could register shock, the lady clown had returned the favor.

Oh Wow! This is so . . .

"Come on, Bobby, we'd better go, NOW!"

"What do you mean, baby?" I said turning toward Florita.

"This always happens. It's part of the show . . . and unless you want to become part of it, I suggest we leave Now!"

Her worried look almost got through to me. But not quite in time. Oops!

Those two clowns, named Jake and June, I remembered from the poster at the front entrance, had made their way down the aisle Florita and I were standing in. Each had pelted the other with at least half a dozen of the mucky desserts and were a complete mess.

Now, as Florita, holding my hand, tried to bull her way through a small crowd of on-lookers, the female clown, after taking an especially gooey chocolate pie in her face staggered back into me and bumped against my left side just as Florita, with a surge, had cleared a path for us. But not quite in time.

Off balance, I bumped into Florita just hard enough to knock her backward to where there was a picnic table with two benches, one on each side. As I said before, there were pies and cakes everywhere. Cakes by the dozens, the same for pies. And unfortunately, there were three very large and gooey chocolate cakes on that first bench. And when my sweetheart hit it with her mighty fine derriere, it tilted the bench with enough force the cakes were tossed into the air.

"LOOK OUT," I shouted.

That probably was not the best choice of words I could have used. Florita looked up, and unfortunately, it was just in time to catch the first cake squarely in her face. And it landed with a very loud SPLAT! The other two found their way down and onto Florita with almost as much of an impact, one landing on her boobs while the last came down with a vengeance onto the top of Florita's head. That one sounded more like a plop when it landed, knocking off Florita's hat. And immediately Florita's hair was inundated with chocolate cake, mousse and frosting. The mess started by the first cake, to her face, was compiled with these other two missiles of mess. Florita, dear sweet Florita, looked like a bomb of messy chocolate had gone off over her head. Florita's entire head was covered in chocolate muck.

"Oh shit," I coughed, trying to hold back a laugh.

"I am so sorry, baby," I said while helping Florita to her feet. "Baby please forgive me. I couldn't stop in . . ."

As I watched Florita wipe some of the brown goo from her face, though it really didn't do much good, I felt a stirring in my loins, if you know what I mean.

Wow, she is Really hot right now.

"Baby, I am so sorry," I repeated myself. Please forgive me.

And I might have gotten out of there unscathed except for a handful of onlookers. Well, maybe it was a little more than a handful, perhaps a dozen or so. I was doing okay until one of them, a big, fat, porcine-looking guy off to our left, started laughing. And that was kind of contagious. Pretty soon another person started laughing, this time a middle-aged woman who looked like she spent half her life sunbathing. And before you knew it, everyone had joined in. As laughter rang out through that large tent, I saw a cloud start forming over my Florita's head.

"Uh oh."

She's not going to . . .

When I saw Florita's eyes light up, I knew a storm was brewing just over the horizon.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," I said as I saw my sweetheart pick up a big coconut cake.

"Oh, you're going to be sorry," she said with a sly chuckle. "You are so going to be sorry."

"Now calm down, baby," I tried reasoning with her, even as I reached for a pink-frosted triple-layer cake that had strawberry halves rimming the top of it.

SPLOOSH!

That monstrous coconut layer cake hit with the force of a mini hurricane. And it left it's mark. My face, the front portion of my scalp, and even a large swath along the top front of my baby blue polo shirt now carried a hefty amount of white muck, interspersed with a lot of coconut.

"Shit!"

"That was uncalled for, Florita. You know what happened was an accident. I didn't mean to get you . . . "

"I don't care," Florita interrupted, only she said it "I . . . don't . . . carrrrreee."

"Good," I said after taking a long breath, "then I don't care either!"

And with that, I plopped that strawberry cake into the center of Florita's messy face. And I ground that mess into her face and scalp. As chunks of red cake along with pink-colored mousse and frosting mixed with the previous chocolate gunge, it kind of made a muddy-colored, mucky paste all in her hair and on her face. To say that Florita was a mess would have been an understatement.

"THERE! How do you like that?" I said with a rising voice.

"Oh . . . you . . . you . . . you just wait until . . . "

As she stood there, covered in muck, I could see a boiling cloud of anger rise over Florita's head. Nearby was a table loaded with chocolate pies, and each pie must have had at least two inches of chocolate pudding. Florita rushed over to one end of that table while I made my way to the other. There were at least twenty pies on the table, all of them with chocolate pudding. Some were decorated with a ring of piped whipped topping along their borders, while others were decorated with yellow glitter-type candy dots. Still others had chocolate shavings as their adornment.

Now, as I picked up one of those chocolate monsters of mess, I saw my girl, pick up one too.

"You wouldn't dare," Florita said as she reared back to throw.

"Wouldn't I" was my reply just as I released my missile of mayhem.

My pie flew with unerringly accurate precision and struck Florita just above the bridge of her nose. With a loud splat, it left its mess to join that already on her head. Exploding with a crack like that of a high-powered rifle, brown goo flew everywhere and completely inundated Florita's face.

Her pie, however, perhaps because she was temporarily blinded by the chocolate goo inflicted by my accurate toss, missed, high and to the right.

"You ducked, you bastard. That's not fair."

"Ha! I didn't duck. You just MISSED! That's your own fault."

"Well, I won't miss this time," Florita said as she picked up two of those gooey missiles of muck and charged me.

Seeing what my beloved was going to do, I picked up my own ammunition and met her halfway. With a resounding THLAAP, those double doses of brown glop completely saturated both of our heads.

Shit, I can't hear anything.

Taking my index fingers, I cleared the muck from my ears so I could hear. And after a swipe of my face, I could see again.

"Ha!" I laughed when I was able to get a good look at Florita. She was a complete mess. My baby just stood there, mouth agape, almost as if in shock. Those two pies had completed a thorough trashing of her head. She looked like a brown gunge bomb had been placed on top of her head and then detonated.

"You Fucking Bastard!"

"WHAT, what did you just call me?"

"Oh shit, Bobby, I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry."

Florita knew how much I hated that word. We had gone round and round over it. I could tell by the look on her face, she knew what was coming.

SPLAT! Followed by another SPLAT!

I had picked up two of those monster cakes. One was a Yellow cake with chocolate fudge frosting, while the other was an especially gooey Caramel cake with a good inch of caramel frosting on the top.

And I ground those cakes in good. I mean, really good. LOL!

"Mmph, mmph. OK . . . shit . . . you . . . you . . ."

Oh . . . you're going to get it, buddy boy. You just wait. I WILL get you back.

But I wasn't done, yet. One of the clowns, it was the female, hard to tell because of the pie glop all over her face, but it was that shapely chest that identified her, gave me a pie. And it was a big chocolate pudding pie, no whipped cream, just a lot of brown muck. And her partner also handed me a pie. This one was a lemon pudding pie. They both grinned so I knew what they wanted.

"Florita, you look hungry."

"What? No, I'm not . . . Nooooooo . . . you son-of-a-bit . . ."

SPLATTT!

So, I gave her a pie sandwich.

"FUCK!"

As she looked at me, Florita's expression said it all.

"Oh, it's on now!"

Florita's beautiful yellow dress, from the waist up, was ruined. A multitude of various colors of muck covered that dress. And her face, WOW, it was thoroughly trashed. Her head looked like some kind of muck bomb had gone off directory over it. Brown and yellow goo flowed down from the devilishly pie-sandwich.

Now, as my baby advanced toward me, pie in hand, I saw a grin stitch it's way across her mucky face.

"Oh no you don't. You don't get away from your just desserts, Buddy Boy."

But instead of hitting me with that extra large banana cream pie, Florita slammed it into the female clown's face.

SPLATTTTT!!

"There, that's for sticking your big, fat nose in our business!"

As yellowish goo slithered down the front of her messy bosom, that clown picked up her own round of ammunition, a large chocolate cake.

And as Florita started to back away from her, the other clown smashed a big coconut cream pie over Florita's head and face.

Blinded by this "unfair attack" Florita stepped into a big bucket filled with chocolate sauce just as June planted that chocolate cake over the top of her head.

Shit, that's just what I need.

As she looked down at her trapped foot Florita cried out in a plaintiff tone, "Bobby, where the fuck are you when I need you."

But I wasn't there. I had stepped behind a large container to get out of the way.

And then I watched those two clowns unload on my sweetheart.

First, she got that chocolate cake over the top of her head. Then , it was a pie sandwich, front to back, as the female clown slammed a custard pie, heavy with whipped cream, into Florita's face, while her counterpart slapped a big gooey, caramel pie onto the back of Florita's head.

And I just stood there.

Now it was time for one of the oldest clown pranks. While the female distracted Florita by brandishing two chocolate cream pies in front of her face, her male friend had produced a chocolate cake, very large in size. It was a double-layer, rectangular shaped cake, at least a foot-and-a-half by one foot in dimension. And it looked like there was a mound of gooey chocolate frosting covering it, probably at least two inches of that muck. But not for long. Ha!

Now, looking to the audience, he grinned as he sat it down on a nearby chair.

I couldn't help but laugh when that lady clown ever so gently forced Florita down onto the cake just by slowly walking up to her.

SPLOOSH

And when her magnificent ass hit that cake, it literally exploded. Brown muck sprayed everywhere. Florita, my darling Florita looked helpless. To add insult to injury, June slapped those two chocolate pies on Florita's head, the first to her face and the other down on top of her scalp. When she stood up and looked back at the picture her rear end now made, the first thing she saw, was me laughing.

That's all it took to set her off. In the next instance, Florita charged me like a member of the famed Fearsome Foursome as the old Los Angeles Rams defensive line of the 1960s was called. And I didn't have time to move before she hit me right in the sternum. It felt like I had been poleaxed with a cannon ball in the chest, and as I gasped for breath, Florita's momentum drove me back and over a guardrail into a previously unseen pit. And with my baby still holding on for dear life, we landed in four feet of the creamiest, gooiest chocolate pudding imaginable. With a loud splat we both went completely under that chocolate slop. When we came up for air, Florita and I looked like a couple of walking blobs of chocolate pudding.

As I looked at the love of my life, all covered with gooey brown muck, my manhood, which had already been stirring, came fully to life. And I could tell by the way Florita's nipples jutted out from that slimy, gunge-covering, her dress had become, that she was just as excited.

"Oh baby," I said as I reached for Florita, "you look so delicious."

And as my lips met hers, Florita said, "I want to eat you, too."

"Oh, if only we could, darling. If only we could," I said sheepishly. And then we both burst out laughing.

But for now, there was more playing to do. So much more. Florita pushed me, and down I went, landing flat on my back with a big splat. But before my sweetheart could seize the upper hand, I tripped her, and she did a header straight into the brown muck.

Coming up and spitting chocolate goo, Florita's eyes danced merrily, and then she came to inflict round two, or should I say round thirty-four, or so. Ha!

Now we started heaping as much of the chocolate goo on each other as we could. As she threw a double handful of glop over my head, I slammed a face full of brown muck into hers. When she threw me down in that brown slop, I rolled out of her scissors hold and rolled her, face-down into the pudding. All the while we were laughing our fool heads off.

Once, while I had most of Florita under the brown pudding, I was able to cop a feel of her enlarged breasts, titillating her boobs with the forefingers and thumbs of each hand, all while massaging her gunge-coated tits. As Florita moaned in ecstasy, the reminder of my gender stood at attention for the whole world to see, but safely shielded by four feet of pudding.

Once, when Florita fell and went completely under the muck, I felt her hands working my zipper until she could grasp my dick, covered with so much muck. As I felt her loving hands stroke my cock, I almost came right then. When I looked into her eyes, I knew she wanted me too.

Oh baby, this is so . . . so . . . oh baby. I want you in me so bad.

"Oh Bobby, I wish we . . ."

"I know, honey. I know. Me too!"

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we got to our feet. Walking in that slop, covered by even more muck, it was really, really difficult.

"Oh wow, baby," Florita said, "I can hardly walk. My dress feels so heavy."

"Yeah, but you look so heavenly. And I bet you taste good, too." And after saying that, I reached over and licked up a big glob of pudding that was threatening to fall off Florita's face. She grinned and then wiped my lips clean with her tongue.

There had been a buzz going on for quite some time. I didn't realize what it was, at first. Partly because my ears were so full of pudding that I could hardly hear anything. But as I looked around, it finally dawned on me that everyone in that tent were on their feet, were watching us, and were applauding. Every single person was laughing, and shouting, and stamping their feet while giving Florita and myself a standing ovation.

Now, as Florita and I started, walking precariously through the crowd of onlookers, acknowledging, good-hearted words and nods, June and Jake, the two clowns that had started all this, came up to us. June was holding something in her hands that looked so incongruous, that I didn't believe what I was seeing, while Jake was behind her and pushing a wheelbarrow full of some dark stuff.

As June stopped in front of me, she reached out with something which at first, I did not recognize because of it's cleanness.

"What's that," I said, before realizing what she held in her hands.

Oh my God. That's Florita's hat.

I was dumbfounded when I saw how clean Florita's Eric Javits Floppy hat was. There were some splotches of dark brown muck, but for the most part that hat was pristine.

How did it survive that cake?

Now, however, as June handed over Florita's prize hat, I saw how the female clown was looking back to where Jake had stopped with his wheelbarrow. And for the first time, I got a good look at what was inside it.

OH shit . . . is that . . . it is. It's Hershey's chocolate syrup!

Jake and June both looked at the hat and then down at that liquid chocolate. I knew what they wanted me to do. As grins split their mucky faces, I took the hat.

"Hey Florita, look what Jake and June found?"

Florita, who had been acknowledging the high-fives and hand waves from our newly acquired admirers, turned, and literally beamed at seeing her hat and its almost spotless condition.

"MY HAT! Oh, thank you. Where did you find it? I forgot all about it."

But as Florita reached for it, I dropped her hat in the wheelbarrow full of the chocolate goo, so dark it almost looked black. Then I reached in and submerged that hat, completely, in the chocolate ooze to Florita's horror, I, then, lifted that hat from that grime and held it in front of her face, black slime dripping from it.

"Whhhyyyy . . . did . . . "

Oh, you son-of-a-bitch!

"You son-of-a-bitch . . . I am . . ."

But before she could finish her sentence I upturned that hat, quickly, and plopped it down on Florita's head.

With a loud, splattering sound, all that black slime rolled off her head, and cascaded down Florita's face.

"Shit . . . fuck . . . you . . . oh, you are so . . ."

If I ever get the chance, I am going to kill him.

Florita stopped, and after several seconds, when all that goo had run its course, she flipped away the remnants that were coating her eyes and then looked crossly at me.

"One of these day, Bobby, I am, AM, going to kill you. If I ever get . . ."

I cut her off by planting my grubby lips on her slimy ones and then gave her the biggest, wettest, sloppiest kiss I could.

"Well," I said, "there are worse ways to go, I suppose."

"Uh huh," she replied, while groping me in front of everyone, and returning my kiss.

"I guess there are. Ha!"


But now, as we walked out of that tent, completely covered in, what felt like a ton of muck, Florita and I saw a much smaller tent to one side and thought maybe we could wash off some of the messy substances that we had accumulated over the last twenty minutes. Little did we know, what that tent had in store for us.

There weren't any lights on, when we walked in, so the tent was very dim, but there was some light coming in through vents in the ceiling and around the sides. Enough light that what Florita and I saw, brought us to a screeching halt. With mouths agape, we turned to each other.

"Oh wow, Bobby. I don't believe it. Is this what they call 'out of the frying pan and into the fire.'" But Florita said it with a big wink.

Inside that tent were more items of messy substances. The front half of the tent was covered with long tables stacked with dozens of pies and cakes. But the tables were pushed so close to each other that we couldn't walk between them. There were, also, large bowls of chocolate, what looked like melted chocolate bars. Then there were the bowls of chocolate pudding, and each of these must have held five gallons of the brown muck. Then there was one table that was covered with two-liter pitchers of Hershey's chocolate syrup. There must have been at least forty or fifty of them.

Hmm. This must be the stuff not judged high enough to be included in the voting.

And last but not least, against the back wall of the tent, in an area so shaded that it was almost too dark to see clearly there was a big round table that must have been at least thirty feet in circumstance. And on that table were what looked like hundreds of cartons filled with custard. And, as we quickly noted, there was an equal amount of the regular, or bright yellow, custard as there were the chocolate and strawberry kinds.

As we walked up to that shiny table and looked down at all that liquid mess sitting there, I got an itch. And when I get an itch, I just naturally have to scratch it.

"Hey Florita, you know when I first saw you in that beautiful yell . . ."

Thinking how ridiculous I was going to sound, I bit off what I was saying. After a little chuckle, however, I continued, "with that yellow dress and your matching hat and shoes, I thought, 'it was as if a golden ray of sunlight had reached downward and touched you.'"

"Ah, thanks, baby."

"I think we should . . . I mean I would like to . . . recreate that moment."

I said this while reaching for one of those cartons of yellow custard.

"Why, whatever do you mean, baby," Florita said with a bewitching smile on her face.

"Oh, just this, honey," I said as I opened that carton of yellow slime, and then with a flourish started pouring it over her mucky hair.

As I poured that custard with one hand, I had removed Florita's hat with the other.

"Ha! You do know that hat is ruined," Florita stated with a sarcastic tone, "don't you, Bobby."

"Ruined hell. That hat is ruined," I replied, "your dress is ruined. So are your shoes and . . . everything else. Hell, everything is ruined, baby. I know my clothes are, too."

"Oh shit. That's so cold," Florita said, but even as she said it, my baby turned her face up to take that yellow flood squarely between her eyes.

Oh wow. That's so . . .

"Oh, that tastes so good, Bobby."

"Well, since you liked that one so much," I said as I picked up another carton and ripped the top off, "why don't I add a little more." Then I poured that one over her head, too.

Now as yellow slime rolled down Florita's face and then covered her breasts, my dick started getting hard again.

"Oh baby, that's so . . . so . . . good. Keep it up!"

She asked for it, so I did. And when I finished pouring that carton, I picked up another, and then another. In fact, I cleared off one entire side of that table. And after pouring somewhere around thirty of those one-liter cartons of yellow custard over Florita's head, she had been transformed into a bright yellow blob of mess. Not one square inch of Florita was spared that mess. She was totally covered in the bright yellow slime.

Oh baby. That was so . . . so . . . oh wow. Thank you, Bobby!

"I love you, Bobby." Florita mouthed the words just before pressing her slimy yellow lips against mine. And as my lover pressed her yellow goo-covered body against mine, I could feel her nipples digging into my chest. Just like I knew she felt my hard dick against her stomach.

But now, it was my turn to get messier. Florita turned toward one of the messy strawberry containers of custard, before setting it down and then picking up one of the chocolate ones.

"I know how much you love chocolate, baby."

And then, Florita started pouring the first of three dozen liters of brown mucky mess over my head and shoulders. And when she was finished covering me from head to toe with that chocolate custard; my beloved pulled back the top of my shorts and started pouring in some strawberry custard all over my balls.

Damn. What is with these women. Always wanting to attack my boys. Ha!

"Shit, baby. That stuff is cold. You're going to freeze my balls."

But though she laughed, Florita continued the pour. And she added another six containers to my shorts before finishing off the last carton over my head.

When she finally finished her mucky pour, I was a mess, with most of my body sporting a coating of brown slime, but with a crown of reddish pink on top of my head. And Florita, while she was carrying the results of thirty liters of yellow gunge over her body, atop all the chocolate gunk from previous assaults, was as big a mess as I was. Ha!

But now, I decided to add to Florita's messy state.

"Well, since you like to mess with my private parts, let's see how you like it when the shoe is on the other foot?"

"What do you mean, Bobby?"

"OH SHIT!" My love cried out as I yanked open the top of her muck-covered dress and started pouring some chocolate custard over her tits.

"That is SO cold, Bobby," she cried out. But that didn't deter me from applying a very liberal coating of chocolate gunge over her boobs. Nor did it stop me from transforming her pussy into a chocolate-covered mess as I lifted her dress high enough to open her mucky panties.

"NO . . . you wouldn't . . . you, OH FUCK!" cried Florita when that cold brown elixir called chocolate custard hit her red-hot pussy.

SHIT! Shit, I shouldn't have . . . oh fuck!

"Bobby!" Please stop. Oh . . . that is so cold."

"You started it, baby."

"I am so sorry, so, so, sorry. Please stop."

Oh shit. It is so cold. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Why don't I warm you up a little, baby." And then I reached down into Florita's gunge-filled panties, and I started feeling her up. First one finger, then two fingers and finally the entire hand, and as I messed around in that messy pussy, my darling, Florita, started to respond.

OH baby. That's . . . oh baby. Yes! YES! Do it. Do me.

Now, as Florita raised her arms over her head, I peeled that muck-covered dress over her outstretched hands and soon my lovely Latino lover was clad in only the briefest of bra and panties to go along with all the gunge that covered her nearly naked body.

While she unhooked her bra, I slid Florita's panties down, and when she stepped out of them, the only article of clothing that remained on her body was Florita's heels. And when she kicked them off, the only thing remaining on Florita's body were layers of mucky gunge, which covered her from head to toe.

Oh wow. Florita, you are so . . . WOW!

As we stood there, all covered with layer upon layer of messy muck, I reached out and started massaging Florita's boobs, first her left one, then her right. Next, I placed my chocolate-coated lips upon Florita's mouth and started kissing the love of my life. I felt Florita come alive as my lips traveled down her chin, then her neck, and finely her chest. As my tongue darted down to tantalize Florita's tits, she started to sway like a young sapling in the wind.

Oh baby. That is so . . . so . . . so good. Keep it up. Do me.

But now, on to round two. I gently lifted Florita up and laid her on that round table, now carrying several inches of multi-colored slime. Then as Florita sat there, with her eyes wide open and staring at me, I bent down and started sucking on her tits.

Oh shit. Yes. Yes. Yes. Do me Bobby. Do me good.

Reaching around her, I picked up a carton of that chocolate custard and started pouring it over Florita's face. As it dripped down off her chin, I would slather it onto her boobs. Then I would lick that delicious elixir off them. Then I laid Florita back and poured an entire cartoon of chocolate custard all over her boobs and stomach. Florita squirmed like a baby as I licked up that messy gunge.

OH Bobby! Oh Bobby! Wow. YES! Do it. Do it good. Don't stop!

Florita squirmed even more as my darting tongue scooped out chocolate custard from the recess we call the belly button. But not necessarily as much as she shivered and quivered when my darting tongue followed her body to that sweet junction where Florita's legs came together.

Oh Baby. YES! Do me! Do me Good!

"You know what?" I said when I stopped to look at my handiwork.

"What, baby?" Florita responded with a sultry look placed on her muck-covered face.

"You look two clean to suit me," I said as I looked at that mostly-white patch, or lighter colored skin where her shaved pussy was. "I mean it looks so weird, here you are covered with chocolate and all kinds of messy items, but your pussy is so clean.

With just the tip of my tongue, I started cleaning Florita's labia, or lips, the outer defense of her most prized possession. And as I did this, she started moaning softly. Every so often my tongue would dart through muck-covered opening and lightly tap the tip of Florita's clitoris, sending her into a frenzy.

Yes, Oh yes . . . Yes . . . YES! Do me Bobby. Do me good!"

After a few minutes, I stood up and looked at my handiwork. And I almost burst out laughing. Florita laid there with almost every square inch of her body covered with multiple layers of muck. That is, all except for the junction where her legs came together. My tongue and mustache action had cleared away a two-inch circle clearly showing Florita's shaved pussy.

"What's so funny, Bobby?" Florita had noticed my smile.

"Oh nothing, really, baby." But after pondering over her question, I came back, "It's just you're completed covered with slime and gunge of all colors, and yet your pussy is so clean.

"I just found that so humorous." It reminds me of a movie once where the girl had fallen into the mud and covered in filth, but then she told James Garner, "You're too clean to suit me."

Florita looked up at me and started smiling.

"Well, we'll have to do something about that, won't we."

Then she reached over and picked up a carton of chocolate custard. Opening it with one hand, Florita deftly turned it upside down and started pouring that brown mess directly onto her pussy.

"Oh Shit . . . what was I thinking," Florita exclaimed as all that cold chocolate hit her hot spot."

I started laughing, and pretty soon, so did she. Florita, then, spread her legs wide so all that torrent of brown muck could flow straight into her most intimate spot. Then she looked at me and looked down there. Then she looked at me again.

I didn't need any more hints. I bent over and started eating Florita's mucky chocolate-coated pussy.

"Hmm, hmm good," I said after coming up for air, "I love chocolate-covered pussy."

That got a laugh from Florita, and a few seconds later, something else. A light chocolate-tinged spray settled on my face as Florita squirted some of her feminine juices.

Wow, That hasn't happened before. At least not while she was on her back.

"Oh baby. That was . . . WOW!"

But then I went back to eating Florita's pussy. Every time I would clean out her sweet spot with my tongue and Tom Selleck mustache I would reach out for some more chocolate. First it was the custard but then, as I started branching out, I would bring back some pudding or Hershey's' chocolate syrup. Once I even smashed a great big chocolate cake into her now dripping pussy, but I could not tell what all was dripping, with just a little salty taste, I knew Florita was having the time of her life.

Finally with one great long shudder, Florita let go. And I mean she really let go. Feminine juices along with all that chocolate was an out-of-this-world experience. My dick, which had been growing ever larger with each second, threatened to burst out of my pants.

"Oh wow, baby that was so amazing," Florita said with a wistful look on her face. "Thank you!"

But now, as she sat up and found herself at eyelevel with my bulging, mucky, crotch, a mischievous look came across Florita's face.

"Oh my, what do we have here, Bobby?"

Ever so gently, as if Florita feared she would break something, my lover unfastened my shorts, and then unzipped the fly.

My cock, throbbing with pent-up fury burst forth and popped to attention. And when that happened, it was only six inches from Florita's face.

The next thing I knew, my Latino lover was giving me a blowjob for the ages. And it seemed like every time she came up for air, Florita would slather some kind of new chocolate muck on my had dick. Somehow, she managed to find a flood of chocolate pudding and she would repeatedly slather it on my dick all the while continuing to suck it. An off-repeated phrase kept coming to mind. Something about, "sucking the chrome off a trailer hitch."

Wow! Oh my God! She is . . . this is . . . is so awesome. Thank you darling!"

And then, finally with no where else to go, I erupted like Mt. Vesuvius did when Pompeii was buried in 79 AD.

Red hot jism struck Florita squarely in her face as she tried to pull-out but not fast enough. Four, five, even six times, I sent chocolate-tinged cum onto Florita's face. After the first, massive round of slimy body juices erupted from my dick, Florita's tried to catch the others in her muck-covered mouth, laughing with each new wave.

Finally, I was spent and Florita settled for tickling my muck-covered balls with the tips of her fingers.

Wow . . . oh WOW! Florita, you are the best!

"Oh wow, Florita. You are so fucking amazing. Thank you!"

Now, as my heart returned to normal, as my breathing was reduced and became more shallow and more regular, Florita removed my messy clothes, first my shirt, then my shorts and finally my ruined boxer-briefs. Then she gently laid me on my back in all that mucky slop. And then getting on her knees, Florita straddled me. While she looked at my limp dick, Florita started blowing in my right ear. Then she started kissing me, first on the forehead, then the nose, and finally on my muck-covered lips. Next, my Latino bombshell traced a path through the muck on my chest and started gently sucking on my nipples. As she progressed further south, my cock started to awaken again. Slowly, but surely, as Florita progressed closer to my South Pole, my penis came to life. And when she reached that pole, I had a full-on erection just waiting its turn.

As my baby started licking the chocolate off my balls my hands were moving, in search. And they found what they were looking for. My right hand had closed in on a chocolate pudding pie while my left closed in on a coconut cream one.

"Hey Florita," I said in a quiet tone.

"What, baby," she replied as Florita looked up from her messy deed.

SPLATTT!!!

Caught between the two pies, Florita's head was now carrying a new layer of muck, half brown, and half white. It was the classic pie sandwich and Florita knelt there, half in shock, before she burst out laughing.

Then Florita picked up a big chocolate cream pie, but instead of slamming it into my face, she placed it down right on the head of my dick. And she ground it in, softly so that my enlarged pecker could transition from clean to messy.

As my dick grew larger, I saw Florita's boobs start to expand, too. I reached out and grabbed a couple handfuls of chocolate pudding and slathered them on Florita's tits. And as I ground that chocolate muck into her boobs, Florita's nipples hardened even while my cock was getting firmer. As she looked down on me, the whites of Florita's' eyes made such a stark contrast to the dark pudding color that the rest of her face had. I laughed softly.

"Florita," I said.

"Yes, baby."

"Do you want me?"

Now she laughed. "Why do you think I've been sitting on you for the last ten minutes?"

Florita snorted brown goo from her nostrils as she tried to but failed to hold in a laugh. "It took long enough for me to get your attention, don't cha think?"

"Ha!" I said. "Well, you certainly have my attention, now."

Than, as I looked at Florita's messy face and into her longing eyes, I pulled my lover to me. And Florita straddled my nether regions. And then, reaching down with hands so covered in chocolate goo, my sweetheart took my rock-hard cock and stuffed it into her gunge-coated pussy.

Hmm . . . oh yes. Do me, baby. Do me good.

"Bobby."

"Yes, baby."

"Take me . . . please take me."

So, I took her.

As my Latino lover rode me, I gave as good as I got.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Gently, at first, we moved so slowly. Almost as if it were instant reply of an NFL football game. But as Florita rode me, our passions grew. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. As we fucked, I gathered great big handfuls of the chocolate muck that was all around us. It was a conglomerate of pudding, custard, sauce, and even syrup. And I smeared it all over Florita. First, it was her face and then her hair. But I didn't stop there. As her head took on the look of some kind of muck monster, I shifted targeting to her breasts and even her belly. Under my mucky onslaught of chocolate, Florita's boobs became so covered with the muck that it was falling off as fast as I could slather it on them. And her nipples got, oh so hard. In and out. In and out.

Now, it was Florita's turn to play me. She pulled up just long enough to grab a big handful of the brown muck and slathered it on my dick. Then it was back in. In and out. In and out. In and out. Over and over. In and out. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, Florita reached down with one hand and tickled the undersides of my balls.

And I exploded. Cum shot up the shaft of my penis like molten lava flowing upward in a volcano, being channeled to go in one direction only. And in the next instant, that white hot jism shot out and into Florita's mucky pussy. Over and over again, until I lost count. But it must have been six or seven times, maybe more before I was completely spent. And at that moment, Florita let loose, too. I felt her flow of juices like those flowing down the sides of a volcano in Hawaii. And then, she too, was spent.

Now, however, as Florita rolled off me, disentangled from my embrace. I reached over and gently caressed her left breast.

"Oh baby," Florita said with a choked voice, "that was so unbelievable. I love you!"

"I love you, too, baby. I LOVE YOU!"

We laid there for a while. Not too, long, just long enough for us to catch our breaths and for our racing hearts to settle down. I played with Florita's boobs while she reached down and scratched my balls with her muck-covered fingers. But the truth is we were pretty well spent.

After we got dressed, Florita in her ruined yellow summer dress and I in my gunge-covered shorts and polo shirt, we started to leave. But there was something about all those delicious and oh so gooey pies and mucky cakes that kept calling us back.

I won't say what we did during our last fifteen minutes in that side tent, but let's just say it got trashed just about as bad as the big tent. And as for our clothing, well, they were much heavier, and we were carrying a lot more muck on our bodies than before. Ha!

As we cautiously stepped out of the tent we looked around to see if the coast was clear, which it was. But, as we rounded the corner, Florita and I almost bumped into two middle-aged women who were fashionably dressed. I don't know about Florita, but I could feel my face heating up underneath all the chocolate muck. Mumbling an "excuse me" I hurried past the women, holding onto Florita's hand for dear life. And as we walked away, I heard one of them say, "well, we know who June and Jake got this year." And then she broke out laughing even as her friend already was.