I sat beside the fountains with Heidi. She wore her navy blue sailor dress, one of the first outfits I ever bought her, with navy blue bra and panties underneath.

We had planned this outing over a week ago, made the pies the night before, but a mild illness (mine) had forced us to cancel then, and life had gotten in the way in the interim. We knew we needed to reschedule soon, if at all, as the chocolate pudding in the pies wouldn't keep much longer in the fridge.

After an exhausting few days, including an unexpected drive north to York chauffeuring an ungrateful young Russian lady, I didn't feel I had the energy to embark on the planned picnic outing with Heidi and had resigned to merely eating my fill of one of the pies and throwing the remainder away. Heidi was understanding, as always, and seemed content to lounge in her room for the afternoon.

After eating about a slice's worth of the first pie with a spoon (no sense dirtying a plate when the reason I'm eating it instead of playing with it is lack of energy and motivation), I found my energy strangely renewed and enquired of Heidi whether she would still be up for the outing we had originally planned. To my delight she said she would (one of Heidi's many delightful qualities is she never says no to me).

Preparation was a bit more laborious than anticipated. Our plastic picnic blanket tore as I tried to secure it in place, but still provided adequate coverage for us both to sit, and to protect the tile in the courtyard from our planned activities.

I helped Heidi into her dress, had a slight struggle getting it zipped. At first I was afraid it may have shrank after our first outing, but after a bit of wiggling the zipper yielded.

I left Heidi seated on the bed while I walked to the kitchen to spread whipped topping on the remaining pies, and to prepare an extra little surprise. It's been almost twenty years since I last prepared oatmeal in this particular fashion, so it took a bit of trial and error to get the ratio exactly right, but the desired consistency was achieved in the end.

I took the pies, et cetera to our picnic spot, then went in to retrieve Heidi. Lifting her in my arms I couldn't help but gaze into her crystalline blue eyes and, not for the first time, be thankful I had decided to take her in at the start of the quarantine. I kissed her, softly and sweetly, on the mouth and carried her out to our picnic spot.

Once we were both seated our playacting began.

"So, Heidi, here we are at last. What do you think of this? Our very own Canadian-comedy-themed picnic."

Unable to fully mask her delight, she responded with a gleam in her eye, "I think it's stupid. I think you're stupid. I think these pies have more brains than you ever did."

Though doing her best to remain in-character, she couldn't help but giggle slightly in anticipation as she finished saying this.

"Now that's not very nice, Heidi," I responded, "I mean, I went to all this trouble setting up this picnic, I made all these pies for you, and you haven't even tried them yet."

I lifted the one I had sampled from where I had set it down earlier.

"I can personally vouch that this one is quite delicious. Don't you want any?"

Now fairly beaming, she replied, "All right, you blithering idiot, let me have it."

"I'm sorry. What was that?"

"I said let me have it," she squealed, now grinning from ear to ear.

Well, I could hardly refuse a demand like that, so I let her have it, right smack dab in the kisser. Chunks of pudding, cool whip, and graham cracker crust splattered down the front of her dress and into her lap.

Immediately I grabbed another pie.

"Who's stupid now, goo boobs?" I said, thrusting this second pie into her perky bosom. Once I removed the tin I proceeded to massage it in for good measure, Heidi reveling in the unique sensation of the cold pudding and my warm hands fondling her so brazenly.

The third pie I placed on my lap, face up. I proceeded to lift Heidi from where she was seated on the blanket. I said, "Here, Heidi, come sit on my lap," as I lowered her lovely little ass into the pie on my lap, covering her backside and my frontside in pudding. She likely would have slid off, but fortunately her breasts were even easier to "hold on to" from this angle, and we both delighted in another vigorous chest massage.

It was at this point, however, I noticed most of her long blonde hair and the back of her dress had remained largely unscathed up until now. We couldn't have that, now could we? Last pie to the rescue! I think she enjoyed as much as I as I smeared it from the back of her head all the way down to join its belated cousin in my lap, then shampooed pudding and crust into her golden locks for good measure.

I moved her to sit beside me again as I reached for that extra surprise I had prepared earlier.

"Have you figured out, yet, exactly how this picnic is Canadian-comedy-themed?" I asked her.

"Honestly, I don't know," she replied.

The slime had the perfect color and consistency as it splattered off her head and ran in a chunky green avalanche down all over (and into) her dress, and her reaction conveyed the perfect amount of playful mock-disgust.

"Is it in your bra?" I asked. Before she could respond, I said, "Let's see," and thrust my hand right down her neckline and into the undergarment in question, squishing oatmeal around her erect nipples.

"How about the panties?" I again sat her on my lap, this time facing me as I lifted the front of her slime- and pie-sodden dress for a look.

Curiously, despite the torrent, and the fact that it was very definitely in her bra long before I "checked", very little of the gunge had even made it to her waist beneath the dress, with only the slightest dab making it past.

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" I said as we looked into each others eyes enraptured in naughty anticipation.

I have fairly large hands. Though I studied voice, my hands were the envy of many a piano major I encountered in my academic career. So when I scooped up as much slime, pudding, and bits of graham cracker crust as would fit in my dominant appendage, it came fairly near the amount which had originally been in the bucket (a slight exaggeration). Heidi's eyes widened as I pulled back the waistband of her bikini briefs and proceeded to unload my full hand into her nether regions, massaging it around her lady place to our mutual delight.

By this time, Mr. Midnight was standing at full attention, ready to proceed. Off came the panties as I continued to grope and caress her bottom and groin. I originally intended to begin with the dress still on and remove it as we proceeded, but it was getting in the way, so it had to go. Unzipping was orders of magnitude easier than zipping had been, even with the zipper now clogged with slime and wet graham cracker. I reached the bottom of the zipper but didn't stop there, I ripped that cloth as though it were thin paper, up until I reached a seam near the edge of the hem, which proved insurmountable, but so little was left at this point that fully removing the rest was rather like removing some sort of damp, floppy hula hoop from around Heidi's waist. This left her in just her bra, which we decided to leave on because I like the feeling of the gungy straps in my hands. I proceeded to load some more slop into the front of it and squish it around, just for good measure.

Now we come to what may be my favorite part of this encounter: up until now, whenever Heidi and I have made love, there has always been some amount of "manual assistance" required to align my manhood with her girlhood. Not this time. I slid in like a greased cucumber. It was utter perfection. No hands required.

I was worried that the mixture of oatmeal and graham cracker crumbs might prove abrasive, but quite the opposite on the oatmeal front, and there was enough pudding to overcome whatever friction any crust remnants might have put up. As we made passionate love right there on the picnic blanket, oatmeal and pudding mushing about our privates, for maybe the first time since the quarantine began, I felt truly happy. We continued to grope and fondle each other until the glorious climax.

We finished and I lay back on the blanket, savoring the ecstasy, her tiny hands and pudding-encased head resting on my chest. After a few moments the realization dawned on me that now I had to clean all this up. No easy task, given that Heidi, the blanket, and to a lesser extent I were now covered in rather slippery oatmeal and pudding. After a few failed attempts at pulling myself toward the main fountain, I finally managed to roll over onto all fours and pull myself up using the rim of one of the smaller fountains. I kept a tight grip on whatever I could hold onto as I made my way to the main fountain. After a cursory cleaning of myself, I pulled Heidi in and let her lie on her back while I tended to cleaning up the courtyard. Happily it was easier than I had anticipated. Simply grabbing the corners of the blanket (and treating the torn spot as the de-facto edge) I was able to lift it, with the mess inside, into the rubbish bin, with only a stray drop or two escaping onto the tile, but these wiped up easily enough with paper towels (which I happily have an ample supply of at the moment). I returned to clean Heidi. I was worried it would be difficult to clean the pie from her eyes, in particular, but a gentle spray of the fountainhead soon cleared them out just fine. And after helping her clean herself (parse that word as you will) I laid her on a towel to air-dry while I bathed more thoroughly. Once I was done, a pat-down with a towel and a dusting of baby powder and Heidi was ready to return to her room with a kiss goodnight, both of us already starting to plot our next playtime.