Over My Head Ch. 01

"OOOOOHHH!" Barbara screamed, muffled. She raised her hands to her face as Pete kept the pies there, rubbing them into her tanned face and curly blonde hair. Then he stepped back from her.

One of the pies fell off her face, bounced off one of her breasts and broke open on her bare thigh. The other stuck there and only slowly slid off. Barbara's face and hair were a clogged mess of pie gunk and crust. All you could make out of her features were the tip of her nose and her open mouth.

I urged my groin up into hers. I wasn't going to be able to hold it much longer. I had to come. She hung her gooey head forward and rode my cock expertly.

Pete came back. He had a pie in each hand and another balanced on his forearm. He took the one in one hand and balanced it on his other arm, then he stepped up behind Barbara and tugged her by her blonde curls until she was facing up at the light. Then he took a pie and shoved it into her face. He held it there. "MMMMFF!" she moaned into the pie plate.

He let go and the plate fell off, but the pie still hung on Barbara's face. He immediately pushed another pie on top of that one, and she trembled and shuddered and made a muffled, inarticulate scream of pleasure. Barbara was getting wiped out, all right.

I felt myself going to come and I arched my back and Barbara thrashed, her nude body still relatively clean except for the huge sloppy mess that was her head, and Pete came around and knelt next to me and shoved the last pie right down into my face.

That was when I came, jerking my hips upwards and moaning into the creamy depths of the pie. Barbara's pussy clenched around my cock, milking me as I pumped into her. I heard her muffled cry of pleasure. It was the most explosive, voluptuous orgasm of my life. I lay back and had to hold my breath because of the pie covering my face, but then I jerked my head to one side and the plate fell off and I was able to blow a hole in the thick heap of goop on my face and pant, hard.

"Oh God," I sighed as I came down from the pinnacle of arousal they had slowly been drawing me up to. I felt some gobs of slime hitting my stomach and reckoned they must be falling off Barbara's face.

My wrists were untied, first one then the other, and I wiped my eyes.

Barbara was still sitting on me, nude, her body glistening with perspiration, her creamy head hanging down. My cock was soft inside her. She made no attempt to wipe the pie off her face.

Pete circled around behind her with a pie in each hand. He stood behind her and grinned at me, ferociously.

"You fucked my wife, gunge slut," he said, and Barbara raised her head and started to make a noise of protest when he slammed first one, then the other pie into her face. She squealed thickly into the goo.

He took the handcuffs out of his pocket, grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her back, cuffing them together. The pies were sliding off her face and she moaned "Oh no, Pete, please, don't..."

Don't what, I thought, getting worried. Was there still more to this then I'd been able to make out? Was this some private thing between the husband and wife that I was just a pretext for?

Pete dragged Barbara off me, as she struggled feebly, and he sat her down with some force on the plastic sheeting. Her face had vanished behind the thick coating of pie goo, there was just a dark hole where her mouth was. She turned her head desperately from side to side, trying to work out where he was.

Karen had taken the camcorder off the tripod and was using it handheld. She had moved around to get both Barbara and I into shot.

Pete went over to the table and picked up two pies. He walked over to where his wife sat naked and handcuffed on the floor, her head a fluffy mass of white goo, and he pied her on the front and back of her head. Barbara shuddered, the plump flesh on her waist and thighs quivering.

"The gunge bitch can give it but she can't take it," Pete said. Barbara whimpered pitifully. Pete went back to the table and got another two pies, and this time he threw them, hitting first her face with demon accuracy and making her yelp, and letting the other one splatter over her heavy, pear-shaped tits.

"Nooo..." Barbara whined. Pete went over to her and made her lie on her back, her face looking blindly up at the ceiling, her handcuffed arms out to one side, her feet flat on the floor and her legs bent and spread.

Then he started pieing her relentlessly. I had never seen anything like it. He went back to the table again and again, plastering her tanned, nude body with pie after pie while she whimpered and wept for mercy, begging him to stop, please, no more, she couldn't take any more, she was sorry. He left out no part of her, pushing pies down onto her face and smearing them over her breasts and shoving more than one up between her legs to break up and ooze over her naked crotch. Barbara was squirming with humiliation and sobbing with what sounded like bliss.

I realised that Pete wanted me to watch this. For all I could tell, so did Barbara. This was the play they must act out with every partner they got; Barbara did the seducing, the stranger got the first punishment, and then Barbara got punished for doing the seducing.

Which meant that I presumably had more punishment coming to me.

When Barbara was basically a heaped-up mound of fluffy white goo and pie filling, with only a few patches of her naked skin still showing through, Pete forced one more pie down hard on her face and she moved her legs feebly and whimpered. I had seen a man comprehensively demolish his own wife with sadistic glee. I had seen her writhe and squirm and bask in her humiliation. He had already demonstrated to me that he could do what he wanted with me. I was getting scared, imagining what that might consist of.

Pete got up from where he knelt on the floor, breathing heavily. His jeans were soaked in pie cream and gunge. He unbuttoned them and pulled them off. Underneath he was wearing a skimpy pair of jockey shorts.

He felt around in the pocket of his discarded jeans and pulled out another set of handcuffs. Then he walked towards me and said "Hold out your hands, slut."

I held my wrists out. He cuffed my hands in front of me and pulled me to my feet.

I stood on shaky legs and looked at my reflection. I was drenched with the greyish-pink sludge on the floor and my head was still liberally smeared with cream and custard. I stood there, naked, my hands cuffed before me, waiting to see what he would do to me.

He went over to the wall and picked up a bucket. He stepped over his panting wife, almost invisible beneath the thick coating of cream and gunk, and walked up to my side.

"You see how the gunge bitch got hers, you little slut?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"That's what I do to her when she fucks around. But it's nothing to what I'm going to do to you. You fucked my wife. Didn't you."

"Yes."

"Say it!" he snarled.

"I...I fucked your wife."

"You fucked my wife because you're just a filthy little gunge slut who deserves whatever comes to him. Say it."

"I fucked your wife because I'm a filthy little gunge slut who deserves whatever comes to him."

"Say your prayers, slut," he sneered, and he raised the bucket over my head and poured its contents over me.

It smelled of chocolate, but it was black and sticky. It rolled over my forehead and down over my face and ran in thick, sticky trails all over my naked body. I trembled and went "Oooh..."

It went on and on, the flow, pouring over my cock and balls and down into the crack of my behind, and I stood there, feeling myself getting hard again.

When it finally stopped flowing I had little time to get used to it. My eyelids felt like they were glued together. I heard his footsteps, and then another even thicker gunge was being poured over my head. I lifted my face into the flow and let it go all over me, trembling as I stood there, letting him do whatever he wanted to do to me. The gunge was pleasantly cool, but it stuck to my skin so much that I began to feel quite hot.

I stood there for I don't know how many minutes, as he emptied one bucket of gunge over my head, then another, then another. It was like I was standing beneath a constant flow of thick and opaque sludge, deluging my naked body. It was pooling at my feet, the level was already rising to my ankles. I always turned my face up to take it full on, and then I would have to lower my head and open my mouth wide and breathe through it. I stood there, docile, letting him do it.

I started counting the buckets he emptied over me, and I got up to ten when his feet went away and then returned. My body was heavy and stiff with the sludge; I must have been unrecognisable.

The weight of the bucket descended over my head and everything went dark and silent. He had just turned the bucket over and put it on my head. The thick sludge bubbled at my nose and flowed down my chest and over my genitals. I stood, unresponsive.

Then he took the bucket off my head and his hands forced me to kneel down in the deep pool of sludge on the floor. Then, he was pushing me forward so that I was on my cuffed hands and knees. I felt him feeling between my sludge-covered arse cheeks.

"Oh no," I gasped. "Please!"

"You'll take it, slut," he said.

"Please, no," I begged him, feeling the heavy slime clinging to my face, feeling Karen's eyes on me, knowing she was watching him do this to me.

"You know what I do to little gunge sluts who fuck my wife?" he said.

"No," choked and breathless.

"I fuck them," he said. "I fuck them hard. In their little boy-pussies. That's what I'm going to do to you, you slut."

"Oh God," I moaned, as he shoved his finger up my arse, loosening me. Now he would be doing it for real, now he would truly be taking my virginity that way.

"Can you feel me?" he said. "You slut. Every slut has a cunt, right? Can you feel my fingers in your cunt?"

"Yes". I was so desperate, so scared, so wanting it.

"Tell me to fuck you there," he commanded me. "Tell me to fuck you in your cunt."

"Oh God, Pete," I sobbed, "please, please, fuck me in my cunt, please..."

He roughly shoved his swollen cock against my anus, forcing me open unmercifully, and I screamed weakly. My cock was dangling beneath me. He spread my slippery buttocks with his hands and pulled me back onto him, slipping his long, narrow penis up into my arsehole. I shuddered. He began to fuck me, pulling on my cock, holding onto my hips as he pumped into his filthy naked victim, and I could do nothing to stop him, I wanted it so much. I had a brief mental image of Karen, naked and covered in sludge, on her hands and knees moaning as I fucked her arse, and I gasped with lust.

"Don't think you're going to have my daughter," he gasped as he kept on buggering me, fucking my arse ruthlessly, his cock sliding in and out of my rectum. "She knows your kind. She knows the only thing you're good for."

I panted with each stroke. I was dumb with humiliation that he had even seemed to know what I was thinking. I hung my head and took him. Karen was undoubtedly watching me, the filthy naked victim of her father's lust, and she would have nothing but contempt for me after seeing what I let him do to me.

His strokes increased in speed and vigour and I gasped with the pain and indignity of it. Pete began to snort and snuffle like an animal and he hauled on my cock, bringing me closer and closer to my own abject and shaming climax.

He pushed harder and harder, and I felt my knees giving way, and my hands sliding forward, and then with a terrified squeal I collapsed onto my belly on the pool of sludge, him still on top of me, still in me, so that I sprawled beneath him.

He shoved my face into the thick sludge and my breath bubbled around me. The force of his cock up my arse and his hand on me and what he had made me do and how he was making me feel made the heat rise in my groin, and as I lay face-down in the slime I felt myself coming for the second time. I screamed, my voice muffled by the thick sludge. My body stretched, my arms over my head, and I rubbed my cock into the sludge as it spurted uselessly.

Pete was coming into me. I felt the sensation of his semen flooding around his cock in my tight arsehole. I was utterly humiliated; nobody had ever before turned me into quite such a pathetic, whimpering animal.

He pulled out of me, breathing heavily, and got off me. I raised my head and took a deep breath.

"Oh Jesus," I whimpered.

I had been stripped naked, and pied, and gunged, and anally penetrated, and fucked another man's wife, and lastly deluged in slime and sodomised to within an inch of my life. And it was all on tape. I reached up with my cuffed hands and wiped some of the slime off my face and head, clearing my nose and eyes and ears.

When I could see, I looked around. Pete was gone. Barbara was standing up, wiping the pie goo off her naked body. Her mass of blonde curls was now greasy and slicked to her head.

I knelt up. Barbara smiled at me.

"You were fantastic," she said. "We hope you'll stay for dinner. Karen will help you get cleaned up."

She picked up her abandoned bikini and her frock, and walked with dignity out of the room.

I turned and looked at their daughter, who was putting the camera back on its tripod. The red light was off. She looked a little flushed. It was nothing to how I felt.

"Do you want a hand with that?" I said, and felt like an idiot. What sort of question was that?

"No," she said shortly. "You'll get it dirty. Just wait there." This poised, good-looking girl carried the camcorder and tripod over to the alcove.

I sat naked in the pool of thick dark sludge and watched her. She was slim and had a nice figure. As she walked away from me, I glimpsed that her tracksuit trousers were slightly low on the hip. There was a band where you could see her bare midriff. When she had her back to me, I could see the red t-shape where the vertical part of a thong meets the horizontal part, just above the waistband. So, Karen wore thongs.

"You probably think this is really weird," I said as she came back. She shrugged.

"I'm used to it. They've been doing it since forever. They used to hide it from me, when I was a kid. They thought I didn't know, but I could tell. My mum was always buying loads of baking stuff but we never seemed to have any cakes." She smiled, then, and it was a slightly crooked, slightly goofy smile.

"But this is a fucking weird set-up," I said, crossing my ankles and hugging them to make myself seem less naked. "I mean with you and the camera and all."

"Someone's got to work the camera," she said. "And it's paying my way through film school."

"Don't you think it's kind of pervy, though?"

Karen looked at me pityingly.

"What does that make you?" she said quietly.

"Fair point," I said, blushing. I wiped some sludge off my face and shoulders. She laughed quietly.

"I don't judge anyone," she said. "Whatever people are into. I have to say, you're the first one who went as far as that."

"Really?" I said. Karen started to stack the empty buckets.

"Oh yeah," she said over her shoulder. "Most people only get as far as taking their clothes off. Most of them get really scared when Pete starts playing with their bottom." She blushed again.

"Well, I don't really have any hang-ups about that," I said.

"I can tell," she said, amused.

"But you probably think it's just really stupid," I said.

"I told you," she said patiently, "I don't judge people. I don't get the whole gunge thing, but...I like watching," she added quietly.

We looked at each other for a moment. She had just seen me stripped and gunged and fucked by her mother and her father. And something definitely passed between us, at that instant.

"You don't look like them," I said.

"I'm adopted," she said, and went back to cleaning up.

I sat and watched her, as the sludge and goo became uncomfortably sticky on my body.

"You'd better go and have a shower," she said. "Barbara will have finished by now."

"You want me to give you a hand here?"

"No, no," she said cheerfully. "I'm used to it. I'll finish up."

She started to take down the plastic sheets that lined the walls. I got up and walked out of the loft, down the wooden stairs and into the bathroom.

The room was steamy and damp; Barbara had clearly just left. I turned on the shower and got underneath it.

It was hard to get it all off, but my scrubbing my body with soap until I was pink, and washing my hair two or three times, I managed to clean myself up. The water stopped running greyish-brown off my body.

I was washing my hair for the last time when I saw through the frosted glass door of the shower a slender, dark form in the room.

"Who's that," I said.

"It's only me." Karen's voice. I watched the indistinct form reach up and its upper half became flesh coloured, then the tracksuit bottoms were lowered. A blurry white band around the chest fluttered off, and then the red triangle at crotch level was whisked off, and the glass door was opened and Karen was next to me in the shower. She was naked.

She smiled her crooked, goofy smile at me and rolled her eyes slightly. I was relieved that I'd come twice already that day, or I would have instantly had to fight an erection.

"I'm not trying to seduce you," she said. "Just saving water." She was slim, with small breasts and lovely hips that were just the right kind of round. Her pubic hair wasn't shaven.

"I'll get out of here," I said nervously, but she looked at me with interest as she washed the flecks of gunk off her.

"No hurry," she said calmly. "Anyway there's stuff in your ears and on your neck. Let me." I stood still as she soaped my ears, and then I turned and she washed the last of the half-dried sludge off the back of my neck. It was so easy doing this, standing in the shower with this strange naked girl I'd only just met; she was like the sister I'd never had.

When she'd finished, I said "Want me to wash you?" but she just laughed and said "I've been washing myself for a few years now, thanks," and then she closed her eyes and put her face and hair under the spray from the shower, her lips pressed tightly together.

God, she was lovely. Barbara had been sexy, Pete had been dominating and cruel in a way that I responded to. But Karen was just a lovely-looking girl, although maybe in a slightly unconventional way - there was something a little thin about her, and her features were spaced slightly too wide apart for a purist. Still, as she stood and sighed under the spray of water from the shower, her naked body glittering in the light, I caught my breath.

She opened her eyes and looked at me, twisting her mouth quizzically.

"I just should say," she said softly, blinking as the water trickled over her face, "I don't normally get into showers with people Pete and Barbara invite round. In case you were wondering."

"I didn't think so," I said. "Purely a practical measure."

She regarded me for a moment, then she raised her arms, put them around my neck and pulled me into her. Our bodies touched, her breasts against my chest, our bellies meeting, my genitals fitting snugly in the hollow of her crotch. She kissed me, a long and exploratory kiss, her tongue gently tasting mine, then pushing in harder. My arms were around her torso, and I held her tight, then I let my hands drop to her wet and naked bottom. I held her beautiful round buttocks in my hands for a moment.

She broke out of the kiss, smiled at me and twisted her mouth again.

"Steady on, Romeo," she murmured. "I hardly know you. There'll be time enough for that."

"Sorry," I breathed.

"Go on," she said, cocking her head and reaching for the shampoo, "better get dressed. They'll want to wine and dine you."