One day I just so happened to read an article about a messy girl who loved to roll around in the dirt, eat Nutella, and participate in oil and paint sessions.
I was utterly intrigued and did extensive research because I have always had a fondness for anything greasy, filthy, and muddy.
Until I read about the WAM (Wet and Messy) fetish, I had no idea what it was called.
From that point on, my imagination would run wild and I would turn to slave stories in particular for WAM, sploshing, and mudslinging.
But when a fetish dominatrix engaged in the WAM fetish instead of the messy girl playing the lead, I was more attracted to her.
Unfortunately, I didn't find much information on it.
I struck up a conversation with a very attractive latex dominatrix at a fetish party.
She shared my boredom with the party because the club was more about showing off and being seen than about roleplaying or any other gimmicks.
She was a very interesting and well-traveled woman, and after the third cocktail I told her about my preference and we discussed WAM fetish.
She seemed genuinely interested in my fantasy, which only served to intensify my already intense arousal.
She's probably heard a lot of strange fetish requests and slave stories like this one, but for some reason I had the impression that she actually found my sploshing fantasies fascinating.
She had left when I returned from using the restroom.
Nevertheless, she had written "Call me" and her phone number on the beer mat and left it there for me.
Well, you hit the bull's eye! the bartender exclaimed after I couldn't help but grin stupidly.
I agonized over whether or not to call her for two weeks, and as time passed, I began to doubt her sincerity.
But after work on a Friday, I summoned all my courage and called her.
Unfortunately, only the answering machine picked up, and I lacked the courage to discuss it at this point—especially since the idea that an answering machine might pick up completely overwhelmed me.
I again hung up.
Then I went to my favorite pub around the corner and tried to forget about everything by having a few glasses of wine and engaging in some bar conversation.
My cell phone started ringing after midnight, thanks to the cell phone number display.
I didn't even recognize her because of how inebriated I was.
She provided me with her address and the time for a special date at her house tomorrow and asked if I would like to go.
I could hardly believe it when the call ended before I had time to process it (probably also as a result of the wine).
I tried to remember that I actually had a date with the latex lady after I tried to sleep off my little rush.
She opened the door for me when I arrived at the specified time in the evening, and I was utterly shaken. She was stunning in her white blouse and tight wetlook leggings.
I didn't have time to look to see if she was wearing anything beneath her blouse; I didn't want to look at her breasts directly.
I was welcomed inside by her.
After some chit-chat and another cocktail, she asked if I would like to play, and I felt very differently.
Simply nodding, I went in the direction she was going.
She went from being a sweet latex lady to becoming a fetish dominatrix as soon as she shut the door behind her.
She seemed to be under some sort of enchantment because out of nowhere, she stepped forward, bearing a stern expression and a look that tolerated no dissent.
She forced me to sit down, slightly dimmed the lights, turned on some odd electronic music that made me feel like I could see and feel things, and then she covered herself in gallons of oil.
Her breasts—which were actually braless—stood out sharply beneath the blouse in the low light, drawing my attention to her contours as her body started to shimmer under the oil.
I let my eyes follow the oil as a massive puddle developed on the varnished sheet she was standing on, as if I were stroking her myself.
Her eyes sparkled.
Then she added:.
With a nod, he said, "Now you!" and beckoned me to enter the tiny inflated pool that stood next to me.
All around me were various bowls that contained substances that I was unable to even identify.
She yelled, "Sit in!".
She shook her head as I started to take off my shirt.
As a result, I sat down after stepping into the mini pool.
I cast a doubtful glance at her.
She then started pouring oil over herself after grabbing another can.
She gave me a friendly nod.
I then slowly poured the first bowl over myself after grabbing it.
I briefly believed the yellow paint would never wash out of my shirt and jeans as it dripped visciously over them, but then I felt the moisture slowly seeping through my clothing and coating my skin like a film.
She commanded, "Go on!" and I took one bowl after another, feeling more adventurous now, pouring paint, oil, and a sweet-smelling liquid over me, eventually covering my face and hair as well.
I also heard the electro music and the soothing sighs of my lovely fetish dominatrix, who accompanied my WAM session.
I spread the liquids all over myself, rubbed them in, mixed the colors, and played with the sticky mass as it roused me to become wetter and slicker.
To be completely honest, I don't remember exactly what we did when my fetish dominatrix climbed into the pool with me at some point.
Everything inside of me was seething as I rolled around in the mud, moped around, gave in to this brand-new experience, felt like a mud pig, and was purely excited.
Everything I had read about being sploshing, wet, and messy suddenly felt real, and I was overcome by the impressions.
The WAM fetish feeling itself aroused me more than anything else, despite the fact that I massaged the wet breasts of my fetish dominatrix with paint, oil, and honey.
We must have played in the dirt for hours on end.
We eventually found ourselves in the shower, where we let out all the tension and excitement until we were completely spent and exhausted when we finally fell into her bed.
She gave me a set of sweatpants and a t-shirt the following morning so I could go home.
Even days later, I was still giddy at the thought of my first WAM session.
I had four more encounters with my WAM-Fetish Lady, but they weren't as great as the first one.
We eventually split up, but I'll always remember my messy girl and I having our very first sloppy, messy experience.
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