All My Christmases at Once Ch. 02

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This is my first attempt at a story, so please let me know what you think of it. Sadly, it is a work of fiction.

(C) 2000, Henry Wilcox Permission to post this on the internet is granted, provided this notice is left attached.


We danced most of the evening, and were among the last to leave the dance floor in the early hours of the morning. I was delightfully happy, and Emma told me how much she’d enjoyed the evening so far.

“So far?” I asked, surprised. “But the evening’s over!”

“But I have a surprise for you, up in the room” she replied. I didn’t need telling twice, and we made our way off the dancefloor, and up in the lift to our room.

Emma unlocked the door, but before she opened it, she turned to me and gave me a smouldering look. She then pushed the door wide, and motioned for me to go in. I did, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The bed, carpet and floor were all completely covered in plastic sheeting. Covered buckets were arranged along one wall, and I was just about to ask what was going on when I felt a warm, wet wave passing over my head and down onto my back. As the liquid began to slide over my face, I realised that a pot of custard had just been poured over my head, and was now making it’s way down my body. I turned to Emma, and she burst out laughing, the litre carton still in her hand, suspended over my head.

“Your face!” she cried, and carried on laughing.

I cleared the dessert out of my eyes. “How did you…” I started, but before I could finish the sentence, she explained.

“I brought the sheeting in the suitcase, and the food was ordered amasya escort in advance. I made an arrangement with the kitchens to have it all brought up here while we were downstairs. I’m glad to see they remembered to hide this carton behind the door” she said.

I was stunned. We’d done a little food-play before, but always in old clothes, in the bathroom at home, nothing in our best party gear, and certainly nothing that required so many buckets… I must have looked a picture, standing there in my tuxedo with custard dripping down my back and over my shoulders. “Don’t just stand there” Emma said, “kiss me!” so I did. A long, lingering kiss that hinted at the pleasures to follow, and coincidentally transferred a certain amount of the pudding onto her. When we broke the kiss, I stepped back and looked at her. A few drips had landed on her shoulders, almost bare as they were, some of the custard that had made it’s way down the front of my shirt had been transferred to her dress, but for the most part, she was still clean. This was going to change.

“So apart from the custard,” I asked, “what else have you brought?” I moved over to the buckets, and lifted the lid off the first one. Over a gallon of rice pudding stared back at me.

“Hold on,” Emma shouted, “we’ll get to them in good time…” And with that, she reached under the bed, pulled out a cream pie and hurled it at me from across the room. I had no time to dodge it, and wouldn’t have, even if I could. Unfortunately Emma’s aim was not as good as she’d thought, and the pie hurtled past me and exploded on the wall behind amasya escort bayan me. We both turned to look at it, and burst out laughing. That didn’t last long, as now I knew where she’d hidden the ammunition, I looked under the bed myself.

I grabbed the first pie I saw, a chocolate cream pie in fact, and stood up brandishing it. She looked at me as though daring me to throw it, as though she’d be furious if I ruined her dress. Sadly for her, I could see her tongue curled over her top lip, the way I knew it did if she was aroused, so I threw the pie.

My aim was considerably better than Emma’s, and the pie landed squarely in her face. The paper plate it had been ‘served’ on dropped to the floor, and lumps of pastry started to follow it. As the filing started to slide from her face, it dripped onto her dress, and continued the work begun by the custard. Emma cleared her eyes, and gave me the horniest look I have ever seen from her. “You are going to pay for that” she said, and I hoped that she was right.

We took a moment to gaze at each other, because we knew this would be the cleanest we would be for the rest of the night. We both wanted to continue this game, but neither of us moved. I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer, and went to look under the bed again. I came up with a bottle of strawberry syrup, a dozen eggs, and an erection that was more than visible to Emma across the room. She raised her eyebrows and then struck a pose that said that I should do my worst to her.

The eggs were first. I put the box and the syrup on the bed, and removed an escort amasya egg. I crossed over to Emma, and using my thumbnail cracked the egg slightly. I held it over her beautiful red hair, and pulled the two halves of the egg apart. As if in slow motion, the white and the yolk fell onto Emma’s head, and slid down over her face and straight down between her breasts, taking a small piece of pie with them. A stain started to spread across her dress where the egg was soaking in. I quickly repeated the process with another three eggs, and then opened the bottle of strawberry syrup and squeezed it over her head as hard as I could. Emma was delighted, she had her eyes closed, a huge grin on her face, and I could see that her nipples were starting to stiffen against her dress. Not one to pass up an invitation, I moved the stream of syrup over her shoulder and down across her right breast, and was rewarded with a gentle moan from Emma. Again she cleaned her eyes, and then walked over to the bucket I had uncovered earlier.

Gesturing for me to join her, she dipped her gloved hand into the gloopy mixture. Her gloves were still almost clean, only a little cake & syrup on the tips of the fingers, but the rice pudding soon saw to that. Emma pulled her hand back out, cradling a little of the dessert in her hand. This she pushed into my face, and started to smear the stuff around. She repeated this a few times, and the sliky smooth feeling of the velvet combined with the slippery feeling of the rice pudding was driving me wild. Emma began to ladle double handfulls of rice pudding out of the bucket and into my pockets – the ones on the jacket first, and then the trouser pockets. I could feel the dampness as it seeped through the material, and I fidgeted, impatient to experience more.

But Emma re-covered the bucket, and led me back to the centre of the room. What would she have in store for me now?


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