On a dreary Seattle day of non-stop mist and drizzle, Peter had given up any hope of eating outside and went to the claustrophobic basement cafeteria that served the two adjoining buildings.
He hated the thought of eating the mediocre food he had on his tray, and even more he hated the fact that there appeared to be no seats left. Over in the corner he spotted someone getting up and he walked briskly towards it. A few feet away he saw a young woman homing in on the same seat. He paused. Her thin-waist coupled with an hour glass figure caught his eye first, but her face and hair were her crowing glory. It was hard to tell what her ethnicity was. Spanish? Polynesian? Italian? By then she was poised to sit down he had lost the race, enmeshed in her charms. She looked sheepish as she sat down, since they both realized it was a race. But good fortune struck as the woman across from her stood up to leave. She smiled and said, "You see, it all works out in the end."

He smiled back, sat down, and saw that the end of his silk necktie had landed right in the middle of the candied yams. She saved the situation by grabbing some napkins and wiping his tie off, though it was now ruined. And she was also laughing. Peter responded, "I did look foolish." "No, she replied, "I was thinking about something else."

They had a pleasant talk. Her name was Missy and she was a software engineer in the other building. Peter said, "That explains why we've never seen each other." She put her slim hand to her lips as if to suppress a smile. "Oh, I've seen you before." Peter was pleasantly surprised that she had somehow remembered him.

Just then there was a loud crash and the clatter of plates dropping to the floor. Just like in high school, this was met with cheers. But things were not so cheerful for a young blonde secretary who had what looked like a small river of gravy running down her blouse. Peter laughed, and Missy said as if talking to herself, "So sexy." She then realized Peter had heard that. and she quickly added, "That young blonde is very sexy." Peter kept looking at the blonde and said, "Well, if she didn't want a brown satiny blouse she has one now. She's lucky he didn't spill the whole bowl on her." "Oh, I don't know," Missy replied. "There are worse things than getting a gravy bath." "Like what?" Peter asked. She smiled deviously, "Well, if the gravy is cold it's not as much fun."

Peter was flabbergasted. This young woman had just perhaps revealed a fondness for his favorite fetish. He did not want to ruin the moment, but then decided he needed to find out. "Would the bath have mashed potatoes in it too?" "It depends," Missy replied. "Another person also has to fit."

Then she got up quickly. "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date." Peter got up hastily and followed her. "I need to know if I can see you again." She half turned and said, "Okay. Tomorrow, same time, same spot." She started walking away and turned again, "You'd look good with that syrup all over you." And then she was gone.

The next 24 hours limped by. The next day she was a vision, in a pink silky blouse and pink skirt. The conversation soon turned to their favorite hobby. She talked about things that were on her bucket list. Peter offered to help her. "Unfortunately, I'm taken." Crestfallen, Peter asked, "But you have no ring." Missy responded, "I'm dating someone in the company, which is forbidden. If anyone knew we'd both be fired. But let's continue this flirtation. It's fun."

The months passed, and Peter's infatuation grew. Except there was more. She was highly intelligent, funny, and he noticed she was always polite and talkative with people no matter their station in life, like the cashiers in the cafeteria. Also, she never talked badly about anyone.

A few days later, he met Missy for lunch at the usual time and she clearly was disturbed about something. She poured her heart out. The company had discovered she and her lover had something going on between them, and she was going to be interrogated that afternoon. The ironic thing was that they had broken up a month ago, though on pleasant terms. "I don't know if I'll be working here tomorrow," she said sorrowfully.

They both were silent for a minute or two, when Peter announced his idea. She smiled, and said "Let's see what happens. Meet me at the Starbucks on the corner at 5:30."

That afternoon, Missy had a simple reply to the general counsel. Oh, she and her fellow worker were just friends. Her lover worked in the other building for a different company and in fact she was about to request a week off so they could go to a spa in the Utah desert together. She showed a picture that Peter had given her for the occasion.

The next Monday was Seattle weather at its worst. But the flight to Salt Lake City was above the clouds and the sun blazed.

On the way there, Peter asked her why she had not told him of the break-up before. "Oh, there was so much turmoil in my mind. I was feeling guilty about maybe being the cause of the break up, and then there was the possibility of losing my job. And I still didn't know you very well. I still don't, though I'm pretty sure. I'll see how you act this week. Whether you'll be a gentleman."

"I wasn't planning on being a gentleman," Peter responded with a slight smirk. "Though you will be treated kindly and graciously."

Missy took Peter's face in her hands and kissed him hard. "Perfect answer," she whispered.

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He had chosen a spa in Utah that guaranteed privacy (some of its guests were celebrities undergoing rehab). He knew the bathrooms were spectacular and big. And he also prepared the way with the manager, who he lubricated beforehand with a wad of cash in case things should go awry, like a clogged drain.

He had rented one of the sandstone cabins over by the cliffs. After checking in they entered into the elevator for the short two story trip to the ground. As the door closed, they looked at each other and within two seconds were kissing each other passionately, stopping immediately when the elevator slowed. As they left the elevator, which another couple was waiting for, MSM exhaled deeply. She turned with a smile - "That was a nice start" after which they both laughed out loud. The 200 yard trip out to the cliff was by shaded golf cart, and when they arrived MSM noticed there were two separate rooms in the cabin. "Oh, I just thought you might want some privacy at some point," said Peter. "Also," she replied with a twinkle in her eye, "we may want to keep one room clean if we ever get to sleep."

He lifted her across the threshold, and with a gentle kiss let her down. "I am going to go freshen up, as we girls say," and she walked through the French doors into the other room. Her immediate thought was to take off her heels, and just rest for a few minute after the flight and the excitement. She sat on the edge of the bed and suddenly felt like she was spinning as she saw the ceiling racing by. Then there was blackness, but she was okay, and when she lifted her head up she saw that she was submerged in a pool of molasses. The bed had had a false top, with sheets stretched to make it look solid. As Peter came running in, she had a mixture of feelings. Amazement, joy, shock, and an indescribable feeling of softness between her thighs.

"I hoped you might like it. Sorry about the surprise."

"Sorry? I don't think so. Don't just standing there like an ape. Fuck me, hard, right now." She could see his massive erection underneath his pants. Peter approached, and before he could say anything she pulled him in and he landed face first. She rolled over on him and forced his face into the goo. "Do you need fucking instructions?" She ground her hips onto his ass, and pulled his face up for air and plunged it in again. He raised up a hand, and she knew he needed some air. Her adrenaline was running hot right now. She effortlessly turned him over, pulled down his pants, and sat on him, hard. He was still recovering. She lifted her sodden dress over her head and tossed it away. There was no need to strip her underwear off she hadn't been wearing any something she liked to do before an expected sexual encounter. She ripped off his shirt and got excited at how nice his shoulders and upper chest looked colored in high gloss black. Than she carefully, but firmly, slid his cock inside of her and repeated her undulation, which he responded to immediately. "Reverse cowboy in molasses?" She thought that was funny. She came quickly, shuddered, but wanted more. Then for the first time she noticed the side wall had a large mirror and she could see their black, oily, naked bodies curling around each others, incessantly colliding in the most delicious way. Peter arched his back was he going to come now? No, he just moved one hip up very fast and she was sliding off into the stickiness. Peter was on top of her now, and the thrusting resumed. She felt a second wave of excitement peaking, and she felt the ecstasy of her muscles releasing all the tension Peter held her ever so tightly as he ceased motion and then she wanted more and more. She turned and saw this glowing blackness in the mirror, moving relentlessly.

They had not said a word the entire time. Suddenly, Peter said "now", withdrew, and pushed her face down into the black muck. She felt her hair heavy on her head. Peter's fingers were searching for something, and she felt him rub her anal opening and then her vulva, searching for the door he wanted to open. Suddenly, but softly, he was in. He lifted her head up by her hair and said, "So what are you?"

"I'm a whore."

"What kind?"

"A street whore."

"Come on, You're still not describing yourself completely. Here, maybe this will make you think." He pushed her head into a dark syrup and instead of the slow thrusting he was so good at -- fucking almost like another woman he was now pumping hard, deep inside her. Her face buried, she could not speak. Then he lifted her head and said "Try again."

"I'm a street hoe. I'll do anything for money. I'll fuck anyone any time, in grease, dirt, filth, garbage. I'm am the filthiest fuck in the world. Use me up. Destroy me, I don't care. I just live for money and fucks, fucks and money." As she said those last words, Peter paused, she felt the contraction of his body muscles, and then the smaller thrusts that come from orgasm. She didn't know if she was coming with him she was on a such a high continuous peak of ecstasy that it felt like a permanent cumming. After about a dozen slowly weakening thrusts, Peter was spent. He rolled off her, turned on his side, and now they were just caressing one another, kissing, laughing at their condition. Who were these animals? Cuddling in a molasses swamp. Who would ever imagine this? But they both had the same twisted, grimy minds, and here they were. They sat up and looked at each other in the mirror. Peter was behind her, massaging her breasts, occasionally moving his hands to her pussy, when she realized she was getting turned on again.

"Are you ready for something else?" she cooed.

"Hey, can't you give me an hour to recuperate?"

"You won't need to do anything. Lay down on that white sheepskin. Face up." She got down into a squat over his head and then pressed her pussy into his face. "A little hard to breather? Good. I need to get back at you for making me take a prat fall into this slop." She ground her pussy in circles, than pushed hard against his jaw, as she felt all her muscles coiling back up. "Eat my pussy." He obediently replied, and she felt his tongue against her clit, and then darting into her opening. She was losing control, and even forgot where he was, now rocking violently on his face. The springs uncoiled and this time she moaned some unintelligible words out loud. Then she realized where she was, got off, cradled Peter's head and asked "Are you all right?"

"I think so. But if I had suffocated, what a way to die!" They both burst out laughing. She looked down at his glistening body and noticed his cock was at attention again. "So soon?" she asked as she touched it lightly. She loved to see the way a man's penis came to attention when she touched it. She lifted him up, they both stood and embraced one another, catching each other peeking at the mirror. "God, we look so hot like this." He nodded agreement. Then practicality set in. "I think I need to wash some molasses out of my right ear," Peter said impishly. "It's up my nose and all up inside me. Here, feel." She guided his hand to her vagina and he felt inside. Another long warm kiss, and they were off to the shower together, cleaning, then rubbing their soapy bodies together.

And she wondered. "I came for a break from the grind and some mad, filthy sex. What is this? No, you're just over-excited. She laughed, knowing that was the understatement of the year. Already she wanted him inside her, in any way he chose to take her. The "what is happening" thought came into her head as she slowly brushed her hair.

(To Be Continued)