"You want my hat?" Dan said. The beginning of a grin spread across his face. He shrugged and reach up to remove it from his head. He held it out.

"Not that way up" I said trying to keep my voice even. I think it came out a bit shaky, but can't be sure, it felt like my whole body was shaking. I steadied my voice as best I could, "turn it upside down"

He complied immediately, the inner lining of the hat revealing itself, the white fabric a stark contrast to the black outer fabric, and readopted his military stance. In other circumstances I am sure he would have saluted. I, like him, fought back a grin. My cock was not fighting anything back and I could feel it hard, stretching my jeans taught. Dan was suffering a similar fate, the outline of his cock clearly visible as he spread his legs to shoulder width.

"Better" I said, and reached to the side of the table to select a bucket of custard. Dan eyed the bucket, but remained silent. I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath. Each one a step closer to his fate. I wondered if this was his first time. I had limited experience sploshing with another guy, most had been solo. I had met a few men from from UMD and some had wanted role play. I had done a game show, doctor exam and with one guy, a brilliantly deadpan and gloriously messy fake job interview. If only these guys could see me now, not a role play, but a real policeman, and a hot as fuck one at that in a real uniform, holding out a real police hat. This didn't seem real, but Dan was actually there, and I could feel the electricity. One day I might compose a story for UMD detailing the experience. But that lay way, way in the future. As Dan knows, I have unfinished business right now. And that business starts right here, right now with that hat.

Slowly I raise the bucket of custard in line with the hat. I flick my gaze from the the bucket back to Dan. I want to drink this moment in. Bathe in it. Revel. Dan watches the rise of the bucket, the yellow of the custard in contrast to the black plastic bucket. He seems to want to stay in role, compliant yet controlled. His chest appeared to rise and fall a little quicker though. Small things give you away, Dan, I thought.

Slowly, deliberately I start to tip the custard into his hat. The pour was steady, controlled and luxurious. I congratulated myself silently that I had bought pre made custard so there was no lumpy stop start to the flow. I kept the flow even, checking Dan's face periodically as the level of custard filled the hat. The yellow liquid approached the rim and I reduced the angle of bucket to slow the filling speed. A millimetre or two from the top, I stopped the flow and placed the bucket down. It was still over half full. Dan held the hat out, steady, still. His eyes rose and faced forward. Again they seemed to look through me. Emotionless. Only the quickened rise and fall of his chest gave it away.

"PC Kane, put your hat back on" I said. I tried to keep the command to match his eyes, emotionless. I think it came out a bit too quickly though. He didn't seem to notice and without a word he lifted the hat. He kept the level steady to avoid the custard slopping over the side as he raised it in front his face. Only when he changed the angle did it start to disgorge its contents. Sensing the seepage Dan sped up his action, in one fluid move he spun the hat and placed it on his head. He was too slow to stop a curtain of custard cascade down his face and spatter down his shirt. Droplets specked his trousers, shoes and the plastic covering beneath them, protecting the floor. Rivulets of custard ran from rim of the hat, over his eyebrows, down his nose and coated the stubble that adorned the lower half of his face. Through the yellow liquid I could see the black stubble emerge as the custard succumbed to gravity to form, at first, hanging curtains of custard at his chin and jawline before stretching then breaking to tumble onto his shirt. There, they continued their ooze, losing substance and pace as they streaked his black shirt. He made no attempt to wipe his face, and returned to his military stance. I retreated a few steps to take in the scene. I was hard as I had ever been, but resisted the urge to touch myself. I wanted to keep the role play in character as long as I could. Maybe I should call it a 'real play' as this is a real policeman stood before me. I fought the urge again to masturbate. I crossed my arms instead, and muttered 'Good man'.
Pleased with my ability to remain as stoically in charge as I could, I said "at ease"

Dan shifted his stance immediately, spacing his legs further apart, to distribute his weight evenly. The action encouraged more drops of custard from face to shirt. The custard that had already made that journey, continued its steady crawl down his clothes.

I approached the policeman and fetched the half full bucket, holding it out. "Pour that over your head" I commanded, and thrust it into his chest with some force. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep the atmosphere. He grasped the bucket and waited for me to retreat a few paces back to the previous viewing area. He stood still waiting. After a few seconds of confusion for me, at least, it dawned on me. He's waiting for me to cross my arms. I folded my arms and waited. He lifted the bucket high over his head, and slowly altered the angle. A few seconds later a tongue of custard emerged from the bucket. Dan increased the angle and the flow increased, the flow widening and pouring onto his hat. The custard within the hat had compromised the hats ability to stay on, so started to list. Minutely at first, then quickening as the custard flowed in ever greater speed as Dan raised the bottom of the bucket up beyond the level of the rim. The speed of slide increased, sliding sideways from his head. It tumbled over his shoulder and landed at his feet. A spray of custard spewed over his shoes and the bottom of his trousers. Without a hat, the remainder of custard ran through his millimetre long hair, the small spikes disappearing under the gunge, before reappearing slowly as the custard followed its natural path down his face, neck, inside and outside his shirt, front and back. Once the bucket was empty he returned it to his chest, and help it out infront of him, presenting it to me.

"Well done PC Kane" I said taking the offered bucket. I placed it under the table and picked up a custard pie from the table. Full crusted, filled to the brim. I reached for the cream can and squirted a topping of cream, covering the custard entirely. I turned to him, and approached, the pie held in one hand at chest level. I moved closer, custard soaking my socks as I stood in the custard oozing down his trousers and shoes, to pool at his feet. I didn't care.

I held the pie up. "Do you want this?" I asked, keeping my voice level, conversational.

"Yes please" he said, but not in a begging way, it was almost barked, like a soldier would address his Commander. All it needed was a 'sir!' at the end to be perfect.

"You really want this?" I said. My voice hushed as I lean in closer to him. I could smell the custard, sweet and vanilla.

"Yes please" he repeated a little louder. I wondered if he had military experience before the police. I toyed with the idea of asking again to get the sir, but held back, he would have done that by now, if that was his thing.

I faked a retreat, turning away, before sharply turning back and in one smooth movement raised the pie and pushed it into his face. I rotated my wrist, to and fro grinding the custard gently into Dan's face. The cream oozed out the side of the pie, coating his ears. The crust crumbled into pieces, gentle, messy splats on the plastic as it fell. I released my grip. Fragments of crust gradually slid down his face. I turned to fetch another pie, repeating the cream topping. Dan's mouth was slightly open to breathe, as his nose was totally covered in mess. His eyes were closed, but he made no attempt to wipe them. He would not know of the approach of the second pie, apart from the rustle of plastic as I walked towards him.

I placed the second pie again directly into his face, but this time ground it up, over his face and onto his head. Smears of custard mixed with cream and crust streaked his hair. Thick globules of the cream and custard mix fell onto his shoulders. One made its way down the side of his face, heading for his upper right chest. I reached out and changed its course, running into the chest hair I could see peeking out from the top of his shirt, the top button open and loose. I rubbed it in, the sticky chest hair coating my fingers.

I stood back. Again he didn't wipe his eyes, standing perfectly still. I wanted to see his eyes, to see if they betrayed he was losing himself in this to the level I was

"Wipe your eyes" I ordered. He did. "I want you to watch what happens next"