October 6th 2024.
Melissa has a client who is quite fond of a particular kink called "sploshing" with custard. As I feel the fourth litre of custard slide down my face, I can't help but wonder if this is all worth it. The custard is cold, sticky, and has a strange odor. And to make matters worse, I forgot to pack a hairdryer. How inconvenient. I highly doubt this budget hotel, just off the A1, would have one available for me to use. Oh well, I'll just have to deal with the aftermath of this messy adventure. But as I wipe some custard from my eye, I see the pure joy on Nathan's face. This is his ultimate fantasy, something he has been dreaming of for thirty years. How could I possibly ruin this for him? So, I force a smile and give him a thumbs up. He then asks me to turn around so he can pour the next litre of custard down my pants. I oblige, trying to ignore the uncomfortable position I'm in on the shower tray. The bathroom is spacious but lacks any character, not exactly the kind of place one would expect to indulge in such a peculiar kink.
All I'm wearing is my underwear, which Nathan has purchased from me in the past. He has a thing for underwear, especially the humble knicker. The ones I have on today are plain white and not particularly sexy, but I'm sure he will still want them regardless. In fact, he once asked if he could buy my friend's underwear when I mentioned having tea with a vicar. She politely declined, of course. Nathan is 35, handsome and quite hairy. He arrived in a funky purple sports car, dressed in a casual t-shirt and shorts. He smells strongly of aftershave, which adds to his charm. I am getting paid £200 for this two-hour session, plus the cost of the hotel room and all twelve pints of custard, six for each of us. If I end up liking Nathan, I might even let him keep my underwear as a souvenir. They are just from Primark, after all, and I'm not keen on carrying them in my handbag after this.
Nathan first discovered his love for sploshing, also known as "WAM", from watching gunge shows. He blames Saturday morning kids' TV for his fascination with being covered in goo. He vividly remembers watching Anthea Turner getting drenched in green slime and feeling intrigued by the unusual sensations it produced. He soon realized that he was not alone in his fetish when he came across a copy of Splosh magazine on Ebay at the age of 16. Since then, he has been buying custom videos from women like me, spending around £100 every week to satisfy his craving. Unfortunately, he chooses not to reveal this kink to his girlfriends, fearing judgment. It's quite unlikely that he will find a partner who shares his sexual preference, even though it is a big part of BDSM culture.
I have been told that female sploshers are quite rare, making me in high demand for this particular kink. If you are looking for a handsome and charming boyfriend with a side order of sugar, I suggest joining a sploshing site. However, I only have one other client who enjoys this fetish, along with a tummy fetish. He likes covering my stomach in blue gunge, which he buys in bulk from Amazon, and taking pictures of the aftermath. But as a 47-year-old with a not-so-flattering stomach, I don't particularly enjoy this session and only see him when things are slow.
Hello, I'm Melissa Todd - a sex worker and dominatrix. I have been in the business for nearly 30 years, and in my column with Metro called "On Call", I share my insights into the psychology behind my clients' desires. Today, I am meeting Nathan in person for the first time. He is a genuine fan of sploshing and is shaking with excitement. I can't help but feel a bit silly as I watch him eagerly cut open the packaging of the custard cartons. But it's my turn to get revenge, and I gleefully cover him in the sticky mess. Unfortunately, his phone refuses to recognize his messy face for facial ID, which adds to the comical moment. He sits there, like a patient receiving some experimental medical treatment, while I pour the custard over him. He tells me that he has already climaxed three times today just by imagining this moment. I'm impressed, considering the small amount of semen that mingles with the custard. It's not the amount that matters to him, but the feeling of the goo against his genitals.
As we clean up, I hope that the cheap hotel I booked for this experience has decent plumbing and understanding laundry service. Nathan washes himself thoroughly and even cleans the shower, but forgets to take the bin liner of empty custard cartons with him. I toss it in my car and forget about it for weeks, only to be reminded by the flies circling around it. It's a reminder of the messy but delightful afternoon I spent making a young man incredibly happy. Do you have a story to share? Feel free to email us, and don't forget to sign up for The Hook-Up, Metro's sex and dating newsletter, for more juicy stories like this. Thank you for reading On Call with Melissa Todd, and I'll see you in two weeks for my next column.
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