tagHumor & SatireAmy, The Girl Who Drinks Cum

Amy, The Girl Who Drinks Cum

byCyrusB©

Amy wore tight, white, cotton panties on her 18th birthday. No one told her she had to wear them that tight. Rather, she enjoyed the feeling of them cutting into the space where her thighs cupped into her pelvis. She enjoyed the panties pulling across her crotch, constantly rubbing and exciting her. Amy was a wicked girl. Not only because she didn't mind using people for her own means. Truly, she was an equal opportunist, since she would torture herself as much as anyone else. She loved sensation, feeling and excitement.

As a younger girl, Amy played constantly with her hair gel. The sticky, slippery feeling of the gel sliding between her fingers attracted her. She didn't understand it, but she didn't question it either. When she would feel sad, she would retreat to her bathroom. The smell of the gel would remind her of something exciting. Some unknown something, sitting in the back of her mind. Once, when she smeared the stuff into her hair, she tasted a bit off the tip of her finger. Amy didn't much like the taste. It tasted bitter and soapy. Still, Amy, for whatever reason, wanted to like the taste of the gel. She would force herself to taste and eat more and more of the gel. Her face would contort every time she ate the gel. Often, she would have to force it down. Her repeated orders for large tubes of the stuff were explained off by her parents as teen primping.

She went out with a boy named Bobby on the night of her 18th birthday. Bobby. She didn't know him very well. They'd been introduced through a friend of Amy's from the Tennis team. Amy had just turned 18 so she'd never really explored boys. She understood it was against the law to explore boys under the age of 18. So, while she'd been looking forward to this birthday night for a long time, she only had the fantasies she'd built over 18 years to guide her.

After dinner with her parents, Amy met with Bobby. He drove her around, even daring at one point to hold Amy's hand. She'd smile, but they didn't speak very much. The car pulled to a stop at 'The Cliff', the make out spot. 'The Cliff' was a tall hill, that looked over the town. Far below, the twinkling lights of the happy citizens were going out one at a time.

'The Cliff' flattened off into a man-made parking field. Apparently, a sports complex was going to be built up on the hill, but the funds fell through after the parking lot was dug out. Other cars were already on the field, some close to where Bobby has parked. The windows of the cars glistened, even as the full moon was covered in a cloud-ridden sky. The inside of the cars were dark. Whispered squeaks from shock absorbers flew on the breeze that pulled up over the hill. Cars rocked gently, though not in tandem. Bobby looked over at Amy, smiling, suggesting they move to the backseat. Amy agreed. In that same seat, Amy would begin the education that would be a lifelong addiction for her.

First she and Bobby kissed. As they did so, Amy noticed a scent that appealed to her. Her attention diverted to Bobby's jeans, Bobby's condition became obvious to her.

Amy had seen more than one boy "hard". She knew she wasn't supposed to look, but she did anyway. She had seen more than one boy experience that "hardness" around her. After school, dressed in her short tennis skirt and snug, white sweater, Amy asked her English teacher about boys getting "hard" around her. He'd said, "I know how they feel." She didn't understand and the English teacher didn't explain.

In the evening moonlight, Amy could see that Bobby was clearly hard against the inner seam of his blue jeans. Forgetting to keep kissing Bobby, Amy slipped her head lower, closer to the source. The scent got stronger the closer Amy got.

To Amy, the scent was appealing. When Amy was young, her school sponsored reading competitions. She and her mother often found themselves inside the old, used bookstore in the town plaza. Amy would notice the owner of the bookstore would also be hard when he looked at her. She would look, then quickly glance away. The store smelled like old leaves, in its mustiness. When the owner and her mother weren't looking, she'd pick up an old paperback. The old leaves scent would fill her nose as she flipped the pages. She loved it, almost as much as the hair gel. Amy had found a new scent she liked even better. Stronger, but still reminiscent of old leaves.

Bobby didn't make a sound as Amy continued to roam over his jeans. He feared, like many boys his age, that the slightest sound would spook the girl. The little deer might not finish what was promised, and leave him in pain and in need. Unbeknownst to him, he had little to fear.

Amy delved deeper into his scent, stronger as she approached his hardened length. Amy had worn jeans many times, despite her mother's constant complaints. So, her agile fingers flew with knowing purpose. First, Amy's fingers, made narrow and strong by hours of enforced piano lessons, deftly unbuckled the belt. At this, Bobby skipped a breath.

"Damn, this girl really wants cock," Bobby thought to himself.

Bobby was halfway right. He didn't realize that cock would soon become simply a means to an end for Amy.

With an inexperienced sudden yank of youth, Amy unbuttoned and unzipped the boy's jeans. Bobby's hardness was still trapped along the seam of the jeans With the single-minded focus of a predator, Amy reached into the black maw of Bobby's open jeans. Her cool fingers pulled and sucked up the heat emanating from Bobby's cock. Using the long fingernails her parents had bought for her birthday, she pulled on the elastic of his man panties.

Bobby groaned as his cock, freed from its cotton sheath, sprang into the summer air. Amy had to swallow to keep the saliva from escaping her lips. Confronted by the promise of her goal, she took a pause. She needed to think, just for a moment. The tip of Bobby's length glistened in the moonlight that escaped through its cloudy imprisonment.

Amy looked up, with wide, questioning eyes. Her mouth mere inches from Bobby's freed prisoner, she asked, genuinely, "Can I taste it?"

"Yeah!" Bobby blurted out.

So loud, in fact, was Bobby's exclamation that the couple in the car next to theirs stopped their ministrations to look. Realizing it was simply a girl giving a guy head, they went right back to their own funplay.

Amy's tongue snaked from her mouth as she began to taste the glistening snowcap. Amy jerked back for a moment, to the immediate sound of Bobby's dismayed groan. The cream on Bobby's cock reminded Amy of the hair gel she'd tasted all those years. The gel she'd craved, unexplainably, to rub between her fingers and even forced herself to learn to enjoy. She preferred this to the gel. This was warm, even exposed to the night air. It came from a man, which turned her on even more.

With this though, Amy's mind left for a time. There was no need to think now. Her craving filled her arms and body in mighty tension. Like the close-eyed shark, she focused to her task.

Bobby cried out, "Ha!". His yelp came from deep within. From the feelings of danger, surprise and pleasure he experienced all at the same time.

Amy engulfed the entire length, the engorged knob slipped down the back of her throat. One solid downward thrust, spearing her own self on it. Amy's craving was strong. So strong it overrode her natural instinct to gag, as Bobby's seeking hips 'tap-tapped' against her throat..

The musty perfume of Bobby's crotch had all but faded to Amy. Its role of clarion call fulfilled, the scent stood aside in Amy's senses. Smell gave way to touch. Amy sucked on the length of Bobby's pipe, drinking in quickly the paltry coating that had first emerged. She had tasted from the fountain. Now, she wanted a pull from the well.

Bobby's arms had become so rigid with tension, they stuck into the heated, pleather upholstery of the back seat. His legs tensed and relaxed in time with the urging throat muscles pulling between them. Bobby, the person, had disappeared. His mind had fled, the intensity of feeling became too great to maintain a continued sanity. The person had been replaced by the cock. His face shook, then slumped against his shoulder. His wide eyes stared blankly at the car's dome light. The eyes dared not even to blink. As they stared off, Bobby looked into a place seldom ever seen.

Onward, Amy's mouth pulled, the feelings flowing stronger. Her tongue pulled along the entire length. Her teeth were held wide. Her strong, jaw muscles refused to quaver. Bobby's mouth moved wordlessly; a fish pulled from its familiar waters. His fists, strong from holding a football, tore into the folds of the seat. If he'd run his fingers through her hair, he would've pulled whole fistfuls out. Even if that had happened, Amy would've continued on.

Spiritual craftsmanship, that carves and hammers the fate we're all destined to, led Amy here. Her soul's focus, by this spiritual design, allowed her to pull at the source of her craving.

Bobby's breath had become shallower, and eventually stopped all together. Strangled in the intense emotions, he fought for breath, turning paler in the moon's cold glare. All too soon, his legs froze in mid-muscular stride. His entire body became rigid. Amy took a deep breath of the flowered, musty air around her. Her moment, and his, had finally come.

Bobby's body began to shake. Amy backed up on the length, so that only the head of Bobby's engorged cock was still engulfed. Woosh! Amy's mouth filled with the first burst of thick cum. It swam over her tongue, pulled along even as it was being shot out. Bobby, with above-average strength, managed a small howl in his throat. The people in the next car couldn't decide what the sound was. It didn't sound like something generated from a human. Not even something that was a living being. It was a dry rasping sound, painful. A primordial howl that not only came from inside him. It came through time, from something much older than even the act Bobby and Amy were engaged in.

Oblivious to the sound, Amy drank. She pulled, quenching a thirst she hadn't realized she'd had. Her mind flooded with possibility just as her tongue and throat did. She drank the thick shake as a second, a third, and a fourth huge gob of the salty cream rushed into her mouth. Her cheeks swelled trying to keep the youth's spent jism from spilling from her lips. Furiously, she swallowed it all down. Her eyes flared in anger. She battled with her mouth, trying to contain the thick spunk inside. Her cheeks ached as they swelled, and still her lips held firm to the cock.

To Amy, it wasn't about disappointing Bobby. To her, this well wasn't filled with mere water. Amy enjoyed the cream like cooking connoisseurs might enjoy a rare, aged Chianti. The kind that was 18 years in the making. Enjoying it in wads. She refused to spill a drop, and willed her mind and mouth to cooperate.

Finally, after 45 seconds of unmitigated purging, Bobby took his first, real breath. It was slight, the first gasp he could manage, but the air felt sweet in his lungs. Until then, his throat muscles had constricted so greatly that someone passing would've thought he'd been stabbed.

Outside, Bobby heard the leaves rustle half a mile away. He heard the wind flow through the short grass blades of the field. He heard his own heart slow its beat down, the massive flow of blood no longer needed. His senses were on fire, and he felt renewed.

Amy's insistent pulling didn't cease in its intensity, even after Bobby's reserves lessened. As reason returned to Bobby, he spoke gently to Amy.

"Amy, ease off"

Amy, hearing the calm in Bobby's words, listened and slowly, her sucking lessened. Bobby continued speaking, with a wisdom and a tone his years did not possess. Eventually, she was able to comply and stop altogether. Reason for Amy had returned. Returned too late, however, to prevent the change that occurred within her.

She'd found her meaning, her purpose in life. Amy understood a part of her that had remained hidden all her short life. She knew the person she was meant to be. Her destiny, her fate, her life's path, were set now. For the first moment in her life, Amy understood something deeper than the words spoken by people. She laughed, loudly, and tears came to her eyes. Bobby smiled, as he understood, though the people in the rocking car next door did not.

In school, Amy'd been taught Bobby's 'J' was meant to create babies. Amy did not care what she'd been taught. She didn't care about the teachers, about the rules, even about the law. She didn't care what social morays her new cravings would break. The small minds that invented the rules would never understand the Universality she had just experienced. She felt happy now. She felt joy. Her mind, having found its goal, sought only one thing now to experience fulfillment. More cum.

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