I looked at the state of the kitchen table and sighed. The aftermath of a children’s tea party is never a pretty sight, and this bunch of eight-year olds seem to have thrown as much jelly and ice-cream around as they’d eaten. But they’d had a good time, and now Alan’s parents had taken all ten of them to the cinema to see a film, which may or may not (I thought) calm them down a bit. Alan and I had stayed behind to clear up; bad as the mess looked, I think we’d got the better side of the deal.

What was I doing at a children’s party anyway? I’d asked myself that question several times during the afternoon, usually when yet another spoilt brat burst into tears when they got knocked out of one party game or another. It was my own fault, really. Alan was my boy-friend, and it was his youngest sister’s birthday party, and he’d asked me if I’d come and help out. I could hardly say no, since he knew I wasn’t doing anything else that Saturday afternoon, and what are friends for if not to go through hell for you? He’d promised to pay for drinks in the pub that evening once the nightmare was over, and I suppose that had tipped the balance. The promise of free booze: how many times had that got me into trouble?

Anyway, once we’d made a start at the clearing up, it wasn’t too bad. At least using paper plates and cups meant that lots of stuff could just go straight in the recycling bin, and although the floor would need a good mopping I decided it shouldn't take us all afternoon. We brought most of the dirty things into the kitchen and stacked them up them up ready to clean.

Looking back, I really should have been more careful. I piled the sink full of the bigger serving plates and trays, and turned on the water. One of the bowls was right under the tap, and the water shot up off the angle of the bowl and went all over my t-shirt – and I mean all over. I screamed and swore, which brought Alan running, but by the time I’d managed to turn the tap off the whole of the front of my white t-shirt was soaked. I was gasping and griping and fumbling for a towel to dry myself off, but all Alan could do was guffaw. He wasn’t at all sympathetic.

“Really, Annie, you’re more of a mess than the kids,” he said.

“Just look at me,” I complained.

“I am doing,” he said, with a sly smile, and I could see why. Of course the water had soaked right into my t-shirt, which was sticking to my skin and had turned totally see-through, showing off my little pink bra underneath.

“Stop staring, you perv!” I complained, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Perhaps we should have had a wet t-shirt contest instead of pass-the-parcel,” suggested Alan, ducking out of the way as I threw a plastic cup at his head. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I followed this with a paper bowl, which still had some jelly in it. This was a much better shot, and hit him slap in the chest, quite a lot of the jelly slopping out over him.

“Oops, sorry,” I said, giggling, not sounding sorry at all.

“Oh really, Annie,” said Alan, although he was trying not to laugh.

I picked up a canister of that squirty cream stuff, and gave it a good shake.

“If I’m going to be a mess, you can be too,” I said.

“You wouldn’t,” said Alan, looking a bit worried and backing away.

“Oh wouldn’t I?” I smiled, and began to edge towards him. He ducked behind the island worktop, and I began chasing him round it, waving the canister. Honestly, we were like a couple of little kids.

I don’t think I’d really meant to do anything with the cream, but then Alan slipped on the jelly on the floor and stopped to steady himself. I caught him up, grabbed hold of the neck of his t-shirt, and before he knew what was happening I squirted cream right down inside it, over his chest. Quick as a flash, I pressed both hands against him and mashed the cream around inside.

“That’ll teach you,” I giggled.

“Jesus, Annie, look what you’ve done,” he said, as if I couldn’t see perfectly well. With a sigh, he pulled his t-shirt off, revealing his well-toned chest, covered in melting white goo.

“Really, Alan,” I said, “Any excuse to show off your six-pack!”

I ran my finger down his chest through the cream and licked it clean. By the look on his face, I think he rather enjoyed that.

“I think you’re the one who needs a lesson now, young lady,” he said.

He picked up the cream and pulled my t-shirt open at the top. He could see my bra, encasing the firm mounds of my breasts. Without hesitating he squeezed on the nozzle, coating the top of my tits in cream, then let go of my t-shirt. I gasped at the sensation of the cold cream as the pressure of my tight t-shirt spread it across the top of my chest. With a smile, Alan put his hands on my tits and squidged the cream around, taking rather longer than was really necessary. Not that I minded: it felt good, and I was starting to get horny. The cream soaked through, leaving the front of my t-shirt sticky as well as wet.

“Look at the state of me,” I moaned, not that seriously. “Help me get this off before it gets totally ruined!”

Alan wasn’t going to turn down an offer like that. I raised my arms as he slowly pulled up my messy t-shirt. Now he had a chance to get a proper look at my bra. I hoped he’d like what he saw. I’d just put on an ordinary comfy one – appropriate for playing with little kids! But it was a nice pink colour, and quite cute. And it didn’t cover up the fact that my little nipples were hard and aroused with excitement.

Alan looked at me with a smile.

“How do you fancy some more jelly, Annie?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, wondering what he had in mind. I soon found out. He picked up a little bowl of fruit jelly in one hand, leant over, and pulled the top of my left bra cup away from my chest.

“Alan!” I gasped, shocked. I could see my pink nipple, poking out like a stiff little peanut.

He looked down, enjoying the view, and then tipped the bowl of fruit jelly carefully into my bra cup over my boob. He then gently eased the cup back into place, encasing my boob in a cool squishy mass. It felt weird and oddly sexy. With a smile, Alan put his hand over my bra cup and squeezed it, mashing both the jelly and my boob. Some of the jelly oozed round the sides and glooped down my body. At his touch, my nipple seemed to get even harder.

“Do the other one too,” I whispered, and he took another scoop of jelly, pulled out my right bra cup, and filled it with jelly as well.

I giggled. “I always like ice-cream with my jelly,” I said.

“You asked for it,” replied Alan. He went to the freezer and took out a tub of Neapolitan ice-cream. Finding the ice-cream spoon, he took a huge scoop of strawberry, carefully eased open my sticky bra cup, and dropped the ice-cream in on top of the jelly.

I gasped. “Oh fuck, that’s cold!” I could feel the goose-bumps on my nipple as Alan put two scoops down my other cup.

He stood back and admired his handiwork. My bra cups were bulging in a bizarrely lumpy kind of way, the ice-cream already starting to melt against my hot body and trickling out of the bottom and down over my tummy in tickly little streams.

I cupped my hands underneath them, and jiggled them up and down. “Isn’t this better than a boob job?” I giggled.

Putting down the ice-cream, he gently ran his hands over the surface of my bra, squeezing slightly to mash up the contents into an even stickier mess. Some of it oozed over the top. My pretty little pink bra was a right state.

“Mmmm, I don’t think your implants are much cop,” he murmured. “They’ve burst already.” He leant over and licked round the edge of my bra, sucking up the gooey mess. I trembled at the sensuous feel of his tongue on my skin: I was feeling as horny as anything by now.

“It’s your turn now,” I said.

I took hold of his jeans belt and began to undo it. Then I undid the button at the top of his flies, and pulled down the zip. I could see the bulge of his penis inside his boxer shorts, not fully erect yet but definitely more than a little aroused. I pulled his jeans down over his thighs, and he kicked them right off.

“I think you need some more of this,” I said, picking up the canister of squirty cream. Grasping the top of his boxers, I pulled them open, catching sight of his tumescent cock curled over tightly inside in its nest of dark hairs. I resisted the temptation to pull it out straight away. Instead, I shook the canister hard, pointed the nozzle down inside his boxers, and squeezed. He gasped as a great gush of cream filled them, covering his cock and balls. I let go of his boxers, and they sprang back, the pressure causing cream to ooze out through the front! I pressed my hand against the bulge of his cock, feeling the cream melt against his hot crotch. As I rubbed gently, I felt his cock start to rise up inside, pushing more globs of cream out of the front. Quite a lot of it began to run out of the bottom, leaving sticky white trails down his legs. I couldn’t help laughing; it looked so funny.

“What a lot of white mess,” I giggled.

“I’m going to give you some more white mess in a minute,” he said.

This was such fun, especially knowing there was no way we weren’t going to end up fucking quite soon. I slipped my hand inside the front of his boxers and felt for his hard hot cock. It was all squishy in there, and as I pulled his stiff member out of his boxers it was all gooey and sticky.

His cock felt really hot in my hand: the blood must have been pumping through it like crazy. His foreskin was already folded right back and his purple knob was smooth and shiny. There were little trails of white semi-melted cream all down its length. I gave it a couple of pumps with my hand, just to keep him hard – not that he needed any help. His boxers were a right mess, what with all the cream, so I just pulled them down. His pubic hair was all covered in white creamy goo, and quite a lot of it had run down over his balls as well.

“Mmm, creamy lolly!” I giggled. “Let’s have some more,” and I squirted a neat strip of cream all down his erection, saving a big dollop for his knob. He winced at the sensation, but his cock was so hot that the cool cream started melting straight away. I had to move quickly - I bent down, opened my mouth and shoved his cock right in.

“Oh fuck, Annie,” he gasped as my lips closed over his erection, my tongue lapping at the cream in my mouth.

From the sounds he was making, I sensed that Alan wasn’t far off coming. Hmmm, did I want his jism now, or save it until later? Decisions, decisions. While I quite fancied a hot salty mouthful, I didn’t want him to go off the boil, so I withdrew my mouth.

“I want more of that cream before I have yours,” I giggled, standing up and leaning against the table, my cheeks pink with excitement and my heart thumping.

“You asked for it,” he said.

He took hold of the right cup of my bra, but instead of just pulling it open, he dragged it right down off my breast, baring my sticky wet tit. The stuff inside my bra had gone all squishy while I was fellating him, and some of it flopped out of my bra cup onto the floor. Quickly, he shook the canister again, and squirted cream all over my tit, covering it in a great white mound. He put his arms around me, and leant over to press his mouth against the creamy mound, spreading the cream over his face. He rubbed his face all over it, feeling the soft flesh of my breast as his lips found my nipple. He sucked and licked the cream off it, enjoying the sweet taste in his mouth as well as the rough surface of my areola and hard bud.

I moaned and held him against me. He put his arms around me, and his hands fumbled at the strap of my bra, trying to find and then undo the clasp at the back. I felt the pressure of the strap give way as he succeeded. I pulled back from him, and carefully clasped the cups in my hands, letting them slide forward off my lovely sticky, gooey breasts. I giggled as I looked at the cups, full of an appetising mixture of squashed jelly and melted ice, while my bare tits were coated in a sheen of goo. A dollop of jelly still clung to the top of my right nipple.

“Fucking hell, Annie,” said Alan. He bent down and carefully sucked the jelly off my nipple, his tongue licking round my tit, cleaning up the sweet mess. I buried my face in his hair and moaned at the sensation of his rough tongue on my smooth pale skin, my nipple very quickly hardening as I got more aroused. He moved to lick at my other tit, cleaning it as well. His hand stroked up my tummy, teasing me by hovering just below the bottom of my right boob, then sliding up over it, cupping it gently. His fingers stroked over my nipple, still moist with a mixture of sticky juices and his saliva.

I let myself melt against him, burying my face in the nape of his neck, sucking hard at the skin to leave a red weal, marking my territory. His hand slid back down over my tummy, as far as the waistband of my shorts. Expertly, he undid them with one hand while holding me against him with the other. With a wiggle, I helped him pull them down over my hips, and kicked them off as they dropped round my ankles. My skimpy panties barely covered my pubis, and he gently massaged my plump little mound through them. His fingers pressed against my slit, pushing my panties between my labia, leaving a wet patch as my juices soaked through. I pushed back against his fingers, forcing my tingling clitoris against his palm, rubbing my bare leg up and down against him.

I felt his fingers slip down inside my panties, rubbing directly now against the sensitive skin of my mound. They flicked across the hard nut of my clit in its protective fold of skin. First one finger then another found the wet hole and slid smoothly inside, lubricated by my copious juices. Gently he finger-fucked me inside my panties, as I whispered the most filthy taboo words I could think of into his ear.

“My cunt’s so wet, Alan; so cunting wet.”

Saying that word made me feel so dirty, and yet it turned me on too. I always felt ashamed of swearing in public, and I think it surprised Alan to hear it from my mouth.

“Oh Jesus, Annie,” he whispered, his fingers pressing deeper inside me. I whimpered under my breath, aroused and wanting him.

His fingers slid out of me, and he began to tug my little panties down. I was ready to take his cock right there, but instead he put his hands on my waist and heaved me up onto the kitchen worktop. The expensive marble felt cool under my warm cheeks. I sat there, naked, and let him spread my legs apart and gaze at my pink and puffy pussy. My labia were sticky with my juices, and he parted them with his fingers to expose the pale pink flesh inside.

“That’s so beautiful, Annie,” he whispered. I though he was going to suck me out, but instead he picked up the canister of squirty cream and shook it hard.

“Are you ready?” he smiled.

“Erm, ready for what?” I asked, puzzled, then gasped as he placed the nozzle of the canister between my legs, right up against my opening.

“Oh Christ,” I said. “I don’t know about this.”

I felt the tip of the nozzle nuzzling against the opening of my vagina, before slipping inside. Alan pressed the button - and then I gasped again as I felt a great gush of cold bubbly cream going right up inside me. Oh wow, that did feel weird! I was used to having hard things inside me, but this was different – it was the cold I felt rather than anything physical. Alan keep squeezing until I was full up, and the cream started bubbling back out of me and over the canister.

“Can you feel it?” he asked, curious.

“Kind of,” I said. “It’s sort of weird.” I squeezed my vaginal muscles, and a little squidgy dollop oozed out of my hole.

“That’s really disgusting,” Alan said, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll show you disgusting,” I said. I slipped down off the worktop, trying not to lose any of the cream, and pushed him down on his back on the cold kitchen tiles. I straddled him, one leg on either side, my pussy positioned over his chest.

There was a pause, then, “Here it comes…” I announced, as a dollop of half-melted cream glooped out of my vagina and splodged onto his chest. We were both trying not to laugh. Some of the cream was running down my leg. He wriggled down until his face was under my pussy, and I squeezed again. My lips dilated as more globs of cream came out, this time splodging onto his face and into his mouth.

He licked his lips, tasting that sweet and musky mixture. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me down on top of him, burying his face in my sticky mound and licking out the last of the cream. He licked over the hood of my clitoris and I let out a moan.

“Suck it, Alan, that’s so good,” I gasped, grinding myself into his face.

He put his mouth over my clitoral hood, and nuzzled against me, his tongue flickering back and forth, feeling the hard little glans nestling inside. I was rocking backwards and forwards, pushing my pubic mound against his face.

“Oh that’s it, Alan, that’s it,” I whispered, urging him onwards as I felt myself starting to mount towards my orgasm. “Just there, yes, like that, don’t stop, that’s it, oh yes, oh yes, I’m coming, ohhh...” and I arched my back and threw back my head, my hair flying, as my climax overwhelmed me. Oh, it was so amazing. I was filled with that wonderful feeling of ecstatic, joyous fulfillment that only an orgasm can provide.

Shaking and glistening with sweat, I slid onto the floor. Alan kissed me on the lips, his erect cock resting against my thigh.

I was still high with desire. “Come on then, fuck me, babe,” I whispered, wanting to feel him inside me, now, straight away, while my clit was still tingling.

He needed no encouragement. Roughly, he spread my legs again and positioned himself between them, gazed at my red, puffy, aroused vulva, my sticky hole gaping, trickles of melted cream running out and onto the floor. His hard cock swung slightly, poised and ready to enter me. Feeling so dirty, I sat up, grabbed the squirty cream again, eased the nozzle into my own vagina, and squeezed, feeling myself filling again with cream.

“Quick, before it melts!” I giggled, and watched as he took hold of his cock, positioned it at my entrance, and thrust right in. There was a disgusting squelch, and cream squirted out of the sides of my cunt-hole, spurting all over the place – down my thighs, over his balls, onto the floor, everywhere. Alan was smiling, and I was trying not to giggle too much. He quickly got into a rhythm, pulling out a long way each time before ramming back inside me. It felt so good to be filled by him, and I pushed back against him, trying to get him as deep inside me as possible, feeling my tight vagina expanding to take him. I could feel cream splodging out with each thrust, as he got faster and faster as he approached his own climax.

With a final grunt and one last thrust, he came, his cock trembling and pulsing inside me as his cum squirted out, hot and sticky. He collapsed on top of me, kissing me sensuously, his cock still resting inside me. We lay together for a while, our bodies flushed and sweaty and messy. At last he let his cock slide out of me, sticky and still half-erect. A mixture of cream and semen trickled out of me and pooled on the floor between my bare legs.

“I guess we ought to clean up this mess,” he said. “We’ve still got a while before they get back, but this place is a bit of a state.”

Both still naked, we cleaned up the kitchen, wiping the food off the floor; and everywhere else it seemed to have ended up. We still kept touching each other, kissing and nibbling, and he stood behind me while I stood at the kitchen sink, one hand with his fingers inside my vagina, the other on my clitoral mound, bringing me trembling to another orgasm. When the kitchen was clean, we retired upstairs to the bathroom and showered together, taking it in turns to wash off the sticky mess from our bodies. Carefully, he directed the shower head at my pussy and I held my labia apart as he aimed the water up inside me, cleaning out the gooey mixture of cream, semen and my vaginal secretions. I coated his cock in soap and masturbated him until he was hard again, then fed him inside me and we fucked until he came again, gasping my name as his cum pumped out, making me messy all over again.

Just in time, we dried and dressed and were back in the kitchen putting away the clean dishes when we heard the car drawing up outside.

I put my hand on Alan’s bum and squeezed his firm cheek. “I can’t wait until next year’s birthday party,” I said.

“I hope we don’t have to wait that long,” he answered. “I think there’s some more cream in the fridge.”