"Do you mind letting the dogs out and playing with them for a while? I've got an hour's worth of work to do. Just need to check a few emails and get ready to go back to work tomorrow." Katie tossed her purse on the table, kicked off her boots, shed her winter coat, and strode purposefully to her home office.

"Sure," Brett replied. The young couple had been out for a few hours visiting friends during the pandemic. It was the most contact they had with the outside world each week. They both worked from home, and they kept their contact circle small, only leaving the house to do the food shopping once a week, and occasionally getting together with friends outside, gathering around outdoor fireplaces and firepits, new SoloStoves, and the tall propane patio heaters everyone bought up in the fall. It wasn't easy staying socially involved, especially when the cold weather settled in. New England had been walloped by three storms in the two weeks before Valentine's Day.

Brett swung open the dog crates' doors and his two lovable mutts sleepily wagged their tails, happy to be able to get out and move around. He opened the back door--Brett noted pleasingly that it was still plenty light out when last month it would have been dark by now--and let the two dogs into the big snow-covered backyard, where they played chase-the-snowball for a few minutes, then tug of war for a few more. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, the dogs seemed satisfied and Brett was feeling the chill again, anxious to get inside and finally change into his favorite sweats and slippers. Later, Brett planned on making his move on Katie. It was Valentine's Day, after all, and she'd had a fireside mug of hot buttered rum earlier in the afternoon. A drink or two almost always got Katie in the mood.

Moreover, Brett has prepared two bakery pie crusts and defrosted some Cool Whip, in case Katie agreed to get messy with him. His pie-in-the-face fetish was their shared secret; he'd let her know about six months after they'd started dating. He said she was the first girl he ever considered sharing this part of himself with; the intimacy of his confession deeply moved her. When they'd finished their conversation, she insisted they drive straight to the supermarket and buy two cream pies.

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Naked and trembling with anticipation, and each holding a heavy supermarket banana cream pie, they stepped into the shower in her apartment together.

"Are you sure?" Brett asked.

"Absolutely," Katie replied. He smushed the pie into her smiling face and she giggled as cream gushed out of the tin and fell on her shoulders. Through the thick cream, she laughed and cried, "It's so cold!"

Cream and crust and pie filling cascaded from her face and hair, dabbing her breasts white and yellow with sugary dessert. No trace of her gorgeous face was spared the splattering. Her long, thick, so-brown-it's-almost-black hair had collected the pie blow-back from landing on the shower wall, and pie filling and cream now dripped from her ruined hairstyle. A dollop of cold cream landed on the head of Brett's throbbing cock; he gasped and his hand was drawn there, drawn to start fondling himself with his right hand and probing Katie's wet crescent with his left. She was sopping; a slick of juices coated her inner thighs and ran down her legs to the floor of the shower stall. He could smell their excitement; the small bathroom was charged with their sexual energy.

"You're soaking," he said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were into this. Are you sure this isn't your fetish, too?

"No. Before today I never dreamed of doing something like this. I'm just excited to see you SO excited. I've never seen you so charged up before. It's so hot." Indeed, Brett looked down at his penis and found himself uncommonly aroused. His penis felt bigger and harder than it usually was during sex, and like his future wife, he had seemingly sprung a leak. A hanging thread of precum was drizzling from the tip of his erect flagpole of a cock, and the inside of his thigh, too, shone with the slick lubrication of his excitement.

"I can't believe you're willing to do this for me. I'm so lucky."

She laughed. "To tell you the truth, when you said earlier today that you wanted to share your fetish with me, I was a little concerned that it would be something really weird or extreme"

"Like what?" Brett probed.

"Oh, I don't know, like foot worship. I hear a lot of guys are into that. And I had a boyfriend once who wanted me to pee on him."

"Did you?"

"No. That was a little too much for me. Bodily fluids? Yuck. This is much nicer and tastier." She licked her lips seductively, taking in a little pie taste sample. Brett leaned in and kissed her fiercely.

"I can't take this any longer. Let me have it!" Brett pleaded with his mate.

"Hard? I don't want to break your nose"

"Yes! I need to get very messy with you right now!" Katie took the pie she was holding in her hand and thrust it into Brett's eager face as he stroked his penis vigorously. Almost simultaneously with the pie exploding on his face, Brett's ability to contain his excitement failed, and he came, spurting all over Katie's tits and belly as she looked on, amazed by what a couple of cream pies had managed to do to the man she thought she knew, the man she thought she might love.

"Wow. You weren't kidding when you said this got you worked up. I thought the idea was to pie each other and have sex?"

"It still is. Just give me a couple of minutes." Indeed, a few minutes later, Brett was ready to go again.

A couple of hours later, they lounged together on the IKEA couch in her tiny living room, watching a football game. Brett was quiet, thinking about the day's events. A fantasy he had indulged since puberty had been fulfilled. He thought about how well things had gone, how he had bared himself to her and she had responded. He considered how much fun she seemingly had, and how sexually excited she had been. Now, here he was watching Sunday Night Football with her; she was complaining that the secondary was playing too much zone defense. Brett was seriously considering that this was the girl he would marry. He sat thinking on the couch; she lay with a head on a couch pillow and her lower legs across his lap. She'd asked him to rub her feet, and considering what she had just done for him, he acquiesced.

"You're awful quiet. Tired? What are you thinking about?" Katie inquired. "That feels great, by the way."

Brett stirred from his reverie and briefly stopped massaging the strong tendon that ran under the center of Katie's clean, showered foot. It seemed bad timing to admit that he was thinking about asking her to be his wife--that might be moving too fast--so he shifted. "I was thinking about how amazing the past few hours have been."
"You're telling me. I'm gonna be sore tomorrow. If I ever need you to get in the mood quickly, I now know your secret recipe."

"Yes, you do, and that's what I was thinking about, too," Brett hinted mysteriously. "You know my secret recipe, and I want to know yours, too. There must be something that turns you on, something private you've never shared with anyone...or maybe you have. I'm not saying you have to tell me, but if you do want to share, and if you do have a fetish or need that I can satisfy, I'm happy to do so, within reason."

"Within reason? What does that mean? And why did my foot rub stop?" She smiled and nodded to him to resume the massage.

"I don't know. I'd have to hear it first." Brett worked the tender balls of her foot gently and she moaned. "What's the approximate sexual parallel for a pie-in-the-face fetish? You already said you're not into pee, which is great news, because neither am I. I guess I'd be freaked out if you asked me to have sex in public. I don't even think I could get it up in that scenario. There's something about being arrested and labeled a sex offender that I find unattractive."

Katie reached down and touched his hand. "It's nothing like that, but yes, I do have what you'd call a fetish, and in a way, you're satisfying it right now." Brett looked up from her feet and saw her expression of vulnerability and understanding. She continued, "I don't think I've ever been honest with myself, and I've never told anyone about it or asked a boyfriend to do it to me. This is as far as I've ever gone."

Brett's eyes narrowed and a confused expression conquered his face. "Are you saying that you have a fetish for getting your feet rubbed?"

"Not exactly" Katie blushed and stopped meeting his eyes. "It's embarrassing."

"As embarrassing as admitting that you get turned on by a Three Stooges pie fight?"

"Maybe not, but maybe yes. It's not just the foot rub. Haven't you noticed that whenever I ask you for a foot rub, we usually end up in bed together?

Of course Brett had noticed that foot rubs tended to end with sex, but he had not made the connection to the physical aspect of the foot rub being such a turn-on for her. He figured his willingness to give a good foot rub was just a symbol of their growing intimacy, and in his experience, intimacy was often a turn-on for women.

"Yeah, I had noticed that, and I'm not complaining. If you have a drink or two when we're at dinner, and then we go back to one of our places and you ask for a foot rub, I know I'm gonna get lucky."

"I'm that predictable, eh?" Katie jokingly bemoaned.

"Not really, no. What is it about the foot rub that turns you on?"

"It's not even really the foot rub. It's." She thought of sharing her secret with this man who had just opened himself up to her in such an intimate, yet silly and safe, way. She decided. "It's not the foot, though the foot feels good. It's the thought that you don't stop with my feet. When you rub my feet, I feel like asking you to rub higher, to rub further and further up my leg..." She bit her bottom lip slightly as she said this, trailing off.

Never one to miss a cue, Brett began rubbing Katie's tight calves, feeling the fit muscles running and weight training had given her. He pushed up the pants legs of the old sweats she was wearing, exposing her smooth lower legs. He slid out from under her on the couch and now she reclined on the full length of it, on her belly. The sweats came off next.

He kissed her leg halfway between her knee and hip as she revealed herself. "I knew when I was a girl that being touched, especially having my shoulders or feet rubbed, turned me on more than it did other girls. Eventually I ran a search. Yeah, I googled my fetish. I found out it was actually pretty common, and it had a name: erotic massage." She moaned; Brett bent over her backside and kissed its flesh; he slid his tongue under her panties while using his right hand to make long, deep, relaxing strokes on the muscles of her legs.

"So I work my way up, then?" Brett whispered, putting on his love voice. He felt his penis start to move and grow as he fondled her bare calves, looking for knots of tension in need of relief. Again she purred.

"Harder. Stronger," she whispered in return, and Brett did as she wished, pushing his powerful fingers deep into her muscles, rolling the flesh, even pinching it vigorously as she responded sensually to his touch. "Higher now.my thighs and butt." In one swift movement he grabbed the waistband of the sweatpants she was wearing and stripped them off her body, her firm legs and ass naked and inviting on the sofa. The animal scent of her excitement wafted to his nose. He loved her smell, the mix of her tasteful, lightly applied perfume and her natural musk. His senses overwhelmed, Brett stripped off his own pants and boxers. His erect penis was not comfortable confined; it stood hard, pointing at the ceiling. He settled on his knees on the carpet in front of the couch, his hands and face poised over his girlfriend's round buttocks. He rubbed the flesh of the back of her thighs, caressed her strong hamstrings, and occasionally spared a hand to stroke himself pleasurably while fondling the flesh of this beautiful woman.

With no warning, Katie turned over onto her back, sat up, and pulled off the rest of her clothes: a sweatshirt, t-shirt, and finally a bra. Brett took the opportunity to disrobe as well, and he fell to work again over her, now rubbing her breast with one hand as the fingertips of his other hand traced slow, firm circles over and around her hot, wet clit, picking up speed and then dropping off based on her signs, her voice, her moans, and her body contortions.

"We're gonna ruin this couch like this," Brett warned.
"It's old. I've been meaning--" she gasped, "to get a new one anyways. Don't stop." He let the tip of his finger enter her ever so slightly as he continued making his tight circles, rubbing a little harder as she moved against him. Her hips began to buck in rhythm to his ministrations. She drew a very deep breath and held it. He pinched her nipple hard and she let out a squeak; she gritted her teeth and he knew she was about to come; he felt her body spasm rhythmically under his touch. She seemed far away and lost in her pleasure as she finally released her breath, teeth clenched in exquisite pleasure.

"That was incredible," Brett said when Katie finally opened her eyes. "I had no idea you were so, so" He stopped trying to find the words. Katie turned to him, swinging her legs off the couch and to either side of him, and kissed him. His cock ached and pulsed. Katie reached between his legs and gently cradled his balls. She stroked his cock, smiling.

"You seem to think we're all done. Looks like your friend here might have other ideas." She stroked him harder and he responded. "There's some massage oil in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. And there's more good news, because just like your pie fetish, I like to give just as much as I like to receive. Besides, this couch is already ruined...."

Brett had little trouble finding the massage oil in the medicine cabinet.

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That memorable night--what they jokingly referred to as their "fetish origin night"--was now five years in the past. There were yearly milestones: a year later they moved in together, a year after that they adopted a shelter dog and got engaged, the next year they got married (and pawned the dog off on her brother for two weeks while they honeymooned) and the year after that they bought a house. Last year they adopted another mutt. Soon enough, maybe once the pandemic was over, they'd have another talk about kids, Brett supposed, as he came in from the cold with the dogs, who were still covered in snow.

I wonder if she'll delay on the kids if I agree to get a cat, Brett thought, toweling off the dogs before giving them free run of the house. He smiled to himself. Either way, he considered warmly. He kicked off his boots and hung his coat on its doorside peg, happy to know he was in for the evening and finally out of the cold.

"Babe?" he queried down the hallway. "The dogs are all set. I'm giving them their dinner now."

"Okay," she called from down the hall. He presumed she was in the office, answering those emails. "After you put their food down, come see me."

Brett grabbed the dogs' bowls and gave them their evening portion of food, which they fell to devouring instantly. He headed down the hallway, noticing that the office door was closed and no light was shining through the space between the floor and the door's bottom. Their bedroom door was closed too, but a shining light clued Brett to his wife's location. Brett opened the door.

Katie was reclining on the bed, wearing the sexy red and black lingerie they'd picked out together a couple of Valentine's Days ago. Brett greedily ran his eyes over his luscious wife, from her black sheer stockings to her styled hair: unbelievably sexy and fit body, garter belt, corset, painted lips and nails, and full makeup. On top of her crotch, hiding her red and black matching panties, sat a pie heaped tall with white cream.

Brett was dumbfounded, and Katie moved to take advantage. "So I was rummaging in the basement fridge this morning and I found these pie crusts, already baked, in the drawer, along with four tubs of Cool Whip. Naturally, I was surprised, because we didn't make any plans to get messy."

"Uh, yeah. I was going to mention it tonight, or maybe next weekend. It's not like the food is gonna go bad. We're not going to really eat it anyways."

"Well, it's Valentine's Day, and I know what you want," she teased, temptingly spinning the pie covering her pussy. Now he noticed the shine of the painter's plastic under her, covering their bed, the headboard, and the floor beside the bed. He also made note of the second pie sitting on her bedside table. It too overflowed with topping. Sure enough, a third massive pastry rested on his bedside table. Brett felt his heart speed up and his penis grow and shift in his pants.

Brett moved to the foot of the bed and sat. He took her stockinged right foot into his hand and began rubbing it sensually, moving his strong thumb along the bottom and stroking her achilles tendon lightly with his index finger. She spread her legs slightly apart; the pie settled into the hollow between her hips and she breathed deep. He leaned over, kissed the top of her foot and caught the familiar, light, clean scent of their bath soap. She had prepared herself for him

"Clever girl, sending me outside with the dogs." He turned his head so he could see her smiling face and then his gaze cascaded to her chest, her flesh flushed a mottled pink above the corset, then to the sliver of her tight belly peeking out below it, and finally to the pie and the red and black panties beneath. He stirred heavily and his pants grew too tight, so he stood and hurriedly removed his pants and shirt, his growing erection bobbing comically in his boxer briefs. Katie giggled and looked him over. He was in good shape from constant functional exercise: hiking with the dogs and lifting weights occasionally. He tugged off both socks and finally the underwear, standing at the foot of the bed excited, his erection growing still. Taking a moment to savor his wife laid out beneath him, a cream pie in her hands, Brett stroked his cock and moaned. He kneeled on the bed, between her feet, and smiled, looking at the creamy pie hovering over his wife's midsection.

"So, what's your plan for that? Banana cream, is it?" he said, nodding toward the pie. "After all, I'm gonna want access to what's underneath it"

Katie grinned. "I certainly can't set it on the bedside table. Those seem to both be occupied."

Brett leaned over his wife, still on his knees, and hovered his face over the pie. His tongue darted out, sampling a taste of the fresh cream. He ran his tongue over his lips, leaving the slightest trace of cream on his upper lip.

"Tastes pretty good," Brett noted. "Though I bet what's underneath tastes even better." He reached under the pie and felt the damp fabric of his wife's lingerie. He snuck two fingers under the hem and brushed her wet sex gently. She shifted her buttocks and groaned lowly in the back of her throat.

Katie looked down to her beaming husband, his face above the pie she held. She loved him; she loved making him happy. "I'll make you a deal," she said. "I'll put this pie in my face if you put your face in my pie."

Before he had a chance to answer, she took the pie that had been hovering over her crotch and smashed it into her own smiling face, splattering the painter's plastic covering the headboard and wall, coating her face and upper chest, and leaving her a mess of dripping cream, crust, and pie filling. One eye peered through a gap in the shattered crust, which continued to fall and collect at the top of Katie's corset, her cleavage funneling the mess directly between her breasts. Her styled hair was now stiffly set with a tiara of whipped cream and her expensive lingerie was festooned with sweet cream and pudding.

Licking his lips, Brett relished the sight of his sexy, cream covered partner. A trickle of melting cream ran from under her corset to the red bow that adorned the top of her diaphanous thong. He trailed it with the very tip of his tongue, pursuing at as it descended lower, sliding his hand around her to the top of her buttocks, hooking the fabric with a couple of fingers, and removing the tiny garment in one practiced movement, then returning his attention to the sugary drizzle tumbling through her corset and collecting in the tight Y of her crotch. A crumb of pie crust settled in the neatly cropped thatch of pubic hair above her clit; he ran his tongue from the inside of her impossibly smooth right thigh to her vulva, tasting her, needing her every inch of flesh, then delicately up over her clit, only brushing it, and finally plucking the crumb cleanly on the tip of his tongue. He peered up into Katie's devastated-but-beautiful face and though she was buried in pie, he could tell her eyes were closed and she was smiling, enjoying his attention.

She sensed his gaze and opened her eyes. Finding it difficult to see, she did a classic two-handed pie wipe, index fingers only, just the way she knew Brett liked it. This is absolutely ridiculous, she thought as she looked down at her enthralled husband, a crumb of pie crust poised on the tip of his tongue. The things we do for love. He swallowed it theatrically; a wink, and his head bobbed back down between her thighs, the rhythmic strokes of his tongue radiating tendrils of pleasure throughout her body. And I do love him, she thought as she stopped thinking.

Warm juices and cool cream mingled on Brett's tongue, his senses overloaded. His cock throbbed angrily between his legs; he reached down to stroke himself with one hand to the same rhythm as his tongue. Their pleasure synchronized to his probing, darting, kissing lips and tongue. Katie's buttocks began to quiver. She shifted her weight, as if she was trying to draw away from him, but he pushed himself farther into her wet warmth, hungry for her orgasm. She shifted away again, this time more forcefully, pulling her hot sex away from his craving mouth. He looked up, confused.
She sat up a bit, pie crust and cream falling off her face and upper body, reached across her body, and with two hands she lifted the massive cream pie off the bedside table.

He smiled. "Hmmm, what's coming next?" he asked as she shifted it into her right hand and drew it back slightly.

"Hopefully I am," Katie said as she brought the pie forward forcefully, plastering her husband's face. Cream and filling gushed out the side of the tin and splattered all over her thighs. She gave the tin a tiny twist and set it beside her on the bed, revealing Brett's pied face. Half the shattered crust still clung to his face, tiny shavings of coconut were lodged in his hair, and thick cream coated his face and neck. He moaned and licked his lips.

"Now, finish me." she insisted. A mountain of pie had fallen from the tin and Brett's face; it rested atop Katie's wet pussy and between her quivering thighs. Brett pulled the biggest pieces of broken crust from the pile that obscured his wife's hot liquid center and buried his face there, probing through the sweet pie for her clit, finding it, taking his time licking it clean. Katie moaned and bit down hard on her lower lip. Her hand pushed his tongue aside and he looked up again.

"I need you inside me," she gasped. He moved up her body, his lips kissing the trail of melty cream until it disappeared under the corset. He worked a hand inside and pinched her nipple hard. She gasped again. He slid effortlessly into her and they gasped together. He plunged deep inside of her and licked cream from her neck and behind her ear. He nibbled her earlobe as he sped up his thrusts and sensed her orgasm arriving: Katie's breaths were shallow and quick, her left eye was closed, and she was no longer moaning.

"Faster." She spat out the word at the end of a breath and held it. He thrust faster, feeling his own orgasm start to build. He allowed more of his weight to rest upon her, which he knew she liked when she came. Katie tensed, the muscles of her core taut. Both her eyes squeezed shut and she wrapped her arms around Brett forcefully, drawing them together and squeezing warming cream and pie filling out from between their as-one bodies. Warm pleasure radiated from Katie's groin. Delight spread throughout her body, it engulfed her brain, and mind and body were united in ecstasy. Brett, knowing his wife was temporarily lost in joy, slowed his pace, determined not to come, not yet. He hadn't forgotten about that last pie on the bedside table.

Finally she filled her lungs, purring as she exhaled slowly. She opened her eyes and saw Brett moving above her, feeling his gentler and slower movement inside her. Due to gravity and friction, much of the pie on his face had fallen off and he was relatively clean and recognizable. He was obviously about to come; she knew his tells as much as he knew hers, and his cock felt enormous and very hard inside her, as it always did right before he came. She reached for the final pie with her right hand and expertly de-tinned it.

"You tell me when, OK?" she said to her beloved husband.

"OK," he replied, speeding up his thrusts as he saw his wife holding the last pie in her hand. He held the sensory image of the moment in his mind: fucking his pie-covered wife in the remains of her lingerie, pie all over his face, hair, and chest, the taste or pie and pussy on his lips, and one more unsullied pie in his wife's hand.

He withdrew his penis from her and stroked it forcefully, savoring the scene below him, finally allowing his orgasm to overtake him. The pleasure was too much. Brett cried out, "Now!" just as a heavy pump of his seed sprang from his cock, and Katie duly smashed the final pie squarely into Brett's O-face. It covered his face in all its comic, splattery glory. Cool cream rained down on Katie's hot pussy and spattered Brett contracting, spurting penis. His hot cum powerfully erupted from his pulsing, throbbing cock, jetting onto his wife's beautiful pied face and body. Brett's already toe-curling, mind-melting climax hit a next level of psychedelic-drug-trip intensity.

Finally, Brett wiped his eyes, smiled, and began laughing, which is really all anyone can do in such a situation, covered in pie and passion. Katie laughed, too, recognizing the absurdity of their messy sex and the sudden realization of its aftermath.

"Laugh it up, Pie-Boy, because while I'm in the shower, you're on clean up."