Veronica's Voyage of Self-Discovery – Chapter 1

Welcome to the first of this month's four-part series, featuring the energetic young Veronica and her new-found acquaintance David. It's gonna be messy, kinky, and a heck of a lot of fun!

***

"What are you, some kind of masochist? It's fucking November, girl! You're gonna catch pneumonia, you know–"

But a breezy laugh was all the college sophomore gave her well-meaning friend. "Oh, whatever," Veronica shrugged, with a toss of her dirty blonde head. "It's for a good cause, you know? A bit of water is, like, the least of my worries. It's nothing compared to those folks who got hit by the tsunami…"

And with that, she slipped up onto her perch: a little plastic chair, suspended perilously over the rippling depths of the dunk tank beneath.

"You're fucking insane, you know," Aimee commented amiably, with a pointed glance around her at the assortment of onlookers. "But hey! Suit yourself. I'll be over here, nice and dry, selling cupcakes like a sane person. Speaking of… Hey, professor! Want to buy a cupcake for charity?!"

Veronica just giggled over the thumping music, relaxing back into her elevated seat and letting her grey eyes wander over the scene before her. It was her second year now, and it was starting to feel like home here on campus. With the first year's welter of prerequisites and mandatory experiences and orientations past, she could finally let loose… explore clubs… pitch in for fundraisers like this. Try out Bible studies and sports and student associations… maybe hook up with a cute guy, or girl…

"Dude, what the fuck? We've got Chem in, like, three fucking minutes!"

This guy wasn't listening to his foul-mouthed friend – and maybe it was precisely that resemblance to her ignoring Aimee that drew her gaze. Or maybe it was the guy's calm demeanor. Maybe, too,  the way he was glancing in obvious interest back and forth, between her and the sign below urging him to give it a try…

"Hey, wanna trying making a girl wet?" She yelled out on impulse, knowing full well the double entendre she'd just made. "Do it for Japan – do it for charity!"

The guy shook his dark head, as much in amusement as in rejection. "Got class," he offered by way of explanation. "Sorry, maybe later…" "Aww, come on!" she laughed back, gesturing down at herself – and not quite even fully understanding why her pulse was thudding so quickly. "You wanna see me soaking wet, right? Look, I'm wearing a white T-shirt…!"

She certainly was, though she hadn't completely understood why she'd chosen such a dangerous color. Just as she still couldn't explain why she'd deliberately removed her bra beforehand, either.

"Heh, yeah," came a voice from the cupcake stand – the voice of a guy she knew belonged on the football team. Chase – was that his name? "Don' worry, dude, I'll do it. I'm gonna nail her good…"

Her laughter trailed off, and she gulped silently, her eyes flitting between the dark-haired guy and this muscly challenger. Uh-oh. She- she'd known what she was doing! Of course! This was all… all part of the plan…

"Uuuhhh!!" The first ball whizzed perilously close to the target and pelted, thwack, into the backstop. "Aww, fuck," Chase grunted. "Bit too high."

Rule of three, rule of three, please, let it be a rule of three- But no. The second ball was right on the money – and before she could do more than let out a little yelp of surprise, the world had dropped out from underneath her. Down she tumbled in a massive splash, the water blinding her and filling her nose and ears. But as she rose to the surface, spluttering and panting, she discovered three surprising facts.

First, her now-translucent t-shirt was indeed sticking to her body, leaving absolutely nothing of her C-cup girls to the public imagination.

Second, the shouts of laughter that resounded through this little corner of campus were setting her atingle – in the strangest of ways, and in the most intimate regions.

And third… well, that dark-haired guy was still there. And the captivated look on his face, as she stared back at him through her sopping hair, was unlike any she'd ever seen.

***

She was like no one he'd ever seen before.

David didn't know exactly what it was about her. She wasn't the most supermodelish person ever, sure – and much to his own private anger, he'd even heard some asses last semester describe her as plain. But Veronica just seemed to have something… to be hiding something, maybe… that he really, really wanted to see more of.

Something quite possibly freaky.

He wasn't too proud to admit that he was a bit of a freak himself. Even before he had come of age, he'd known that a bit of bondage was one surefire way to make him hard. And, well… since seeing her like that last fall… watching her spluttering in that dunk tank, laughing and staring back at him so boldly in her drenched, humiliated state…

Yeah. He'd had more orgasms than he could count from that memory alone.

And so it was that, on this warm spring day in the week before finals, his pulse leapt upon the sound of Veronica's familiar, cheery voice. Up ahead stood the latest charity fundraiser: this one on behalf of the war victims in the Middle East. "Pitch a Pie for Peace!" ran the handmade sign, and there beside the table she stood, a lopsided grin spreading across her face as she caught sight of him.

"Hey, you there! Pitch a pie for peace? It's for a great ca-ause!"

His steps slowed. He shifted his backpack, glancing from her bright grey eyes to the table loaded with cream pies, then back to her. "A good cause, huh? So you, like, throw them at someone?"

"At me, silly!" She giggled, spreading her arms wide to showcase herself as the target. "It's easy, promise! Swear I won't move. And, oh, yeah – it's twenty bucks per pie. Not cheap, but hey! Neither is rebuilding Syria, y'know?"

"No. No, I guess not." David smiled despite himself, mind already racing over his finances. Hmm, there was the athletic fee. The tickets to the game next weekend. The Mother's Day gift he was just about to order…

"I'll do it. All five of them you got here." He paused, watching in quiet relish as her eyes grew wide in delight and surprise. "But on one condition: You sit here on the table, and I pie you just like this, nice and up-close. No distance, no throwing. How's that sound?"

"I- uhhhh…" Strange how such an energetic girl could be at a loss for words! "Uh, I mean, that's not really the rules. Not technically? But I mean, well, seeing as, um-" He cut in with a wry smile. "Seeing as I'm buying up every single pie, surely I deserve a bit of a bulk discount. That's what you mean, right?"

"Right! Um… okay! Then, I should, well, I mean, how would you like to pay-?!"

So it was that, heedless of the curious looks of the passersby, the two set their curious arrangement in motion. Onto the table she slipped, the legs creaking under her Lululemon-encased ass. In one hand he hefted the first pie. "Remember, no moving," he cautioned with a polite smile. "Got that?"

"O-okay," she nodded, with a deep breath and a shake of her shoulders. "I'll do my best…" "Great!" He paused – and in that moment, as their eyes connected, he tilted his head and smiled once more. "I'm David, by the way."

"Nice to mee--hhaahhhmhmhmm!!!"

Deep into her face he pressed that first pie. It was a soft thing, all fluff and cream, and her entire face sank deeply in with very little effort. "Number one," he offered, hoping that the tightening in his jeans wasn't visible to the laughing onlookers now gathering around. "I hope it tastes good?"

"Mmhhuummmyy," she spluttered as he gently withdrew the ruined pie. Her splutters drew a laugh from the onlookers and another smile from her pie-wielding assailant. "Yummy, huh? Well, how about a second helping?"

This one was lemon, apparently – at least, judging by the yellow goo that spurted out from amid the cream, and which left her entire face plastered with a sticky golden mess once he withdrew the tin. "Doing okay?" He asked then, and despite her splutters and gasping breaths, she flashed a thumbs-up. "Wow, you're a mess!" He laughed despite himself, and she blinked up at him… then nodded.

Like the masochistic sub in a porno, perhaps. Though she was probably far, far too innocent to know about that.

"Dual wielding!" He chortled – and pies three and four connected with either side of her head, sandwiching her already filthy face and dropping chunks of crumbly, gooey mixture down over her shoulders. She let out a sticky, gurgling squeal – but even he could tell it wasn't entirely in disgust. There was something else there… hilarity, maybe? Elation? Maybe even pleasure…?

"Final one!" And directly atop her head he plopped it: face-down, its massive mountain of cream slowly compressing, spreading, breaking off in chunks to ooze, silent and heavy, down over her unrecognizable face. She reached up with gooey fingers, wiping at her cream-covered eyes… and at that, he let out another chuckle. "Aww, you think you're done?" He reached up once more and slowly compressed the upturned pie further… sending a fresh wave of goo once again cascading stickily down over her spluttering face.

"All good?" His tone belied the aching tension in his jeans.

"Whhaaaalll Bbbgghhhoooodddhhhh!" she burbled, amid the laughter of those standing around. And as he stepped back, surveying his handiwork with a mixture of admiration, embarrassment, and arousal, he knew two things for certain.

First, he'd definitely be reliving this scene for the next three years, at least.

And second? He seriously, seriously needed to get Veronica's number.

(To be continued!)