Camille Gets the Creeps

Her phone buzzed. He couldn't even wait an hour. She guessed right.

"He's acting like a child." She dropped her phone in her purse. An Indiana Jones lookalike let Monica touch his whip, and Camille suppressed a smile. The beats pounded her head. The drinks dizzied it. Before she knew it, she danced with Monica, belting out Luke Bryan lyrics. Two rum and cokes later, her phone rang again, illuminating the jumble of sunglasses, lip balm, and keys inside her bag. She switched it to silent and turned back to her girls. She couldn't see who was talking in the haze of alcohol and costumes.

"The fuck, Cam, did your boyfriend really run off?"

She sighed. "Yeah, he's... never been very social."

"And you brought him to HOTH? No wonder. I'd have bailed too."

"Luckily you haven't been in a stalled relationship that revolves around your boyfriend's crippling anxiety... then."

She checked her phone, its icons littered with missed calls and texts. 1:27 AM. Shit. Coach would kill her if she cheered tomorrow's basketball game hungover.

"I'm Your Boogieman" blasted from the speakers. Finally a change from country. She took a step toward the parking lot - toward her boyfriend's Wrangler that'd brought her there. He's not here. Duh.

She turned back to the huddle, thinner than before. "Where's Monica?"

A lingerie wearing nun pointed toward the door. "I think she's outside?"

Next to the columns a one-horned devil held back a girl's hair in a ponytail. That time of night. Retching and the sound of another beer bottle shattering reached Camille when the front door opened. She settled against the rail, steeling herself for the danger of her first tipsy steps. After hugging vampires, witches, and ghouls, she walked carefully out the house to the top of the staircase.

She blinked several times, staving off her heavy eyelids as her pupils adjusted to the dark. Fayetteville's wind swept up the 27 stairs, bobbing leaves and forming goosebumps on her bare shoulders.

She reached the step where her and her boyfriend had their fight and stopped. She opened her purse and tapped on her phone for an Uber. These fucking gloves. She slipped one off, finally able to text.

"You're rather stunning."

She flinched. No more than ten feet away, two glassy eyes peered at her from the darkness. Natural grasses and overhanging limbs shrouded the rest of them.

"Thank you."

"I like that dress, what's it look like at your ankles?"

"I'm sure you'd love to know."

"Got a feeling he won't tonight."

"As a matter of fact, I'm going to go see him right now." Why am I disclosing that to a stranger?

"I doubt it. Women don't tend to reward weakness."

She turned back to the man, realizing his forearm was moving up and down. No he wasn't... he couldn't be...

Moonlight glimmered off her pert ass. She tugged her dress down, intent on finishing the Uber request.

"How's it feel knowing a complete stranger wants to fuck your brains out?"

She shivered. His motion quickened, fleshy squelches making it clear what he was doing. His hand extended a ridiculous length from his pale moonlit torso. No way it's that long. Her mind numbed due to the alcohol, she turned to face him.

"I'm used to it, creep. Enjoy your hand."

She was suddenly aware the outfit her boyfriend picked out for her to wear spurred the old leech on.

"That's not all I have to enjoy, doll. If you want to come a little closer." The hottest girl at the U of A stepped toward the doughy, masturbating dump of human breath.

"I could use some amusement until my Uber gets here, since you're an expert on my boyfriend and me apparently, thinking jerking off is going to impress me."

"I reckoned you'd say my dick's small as a baby pecan by now, but..." his smile glimmered in the moonlight. "...We both know that's not true." Her pretty nails tapped against the side of her dress. He really did have a big cock. Finally close enough to see its uncut foreskin sliding back on its veined shaft, she tried to ignore how far his fist traveled to reach the end of its length.

"You're disgusting," she said, clenching her thighs. Her eyes stared at his heaving belly, her complete opposite in every way, his aged flesh covered in mats of hair. Her mind wavered for a moment, the alcohol dulling the filthiness of the situation.

"Just a dirty old man." She breathed deeply, turning away from him. A slick urge between her legs alerted her brain. Camille's mind flashed to her previous sexual partners, all young, fit, handsome. Her age. Why am I considering adding him?

His eyes burned into her, studying every inch of her form, visualizing hiking her dress and slapping her ass until it reddened with his handprints.

"Show me your ass, and I'll show you my cock."

"I've already seen it."

"What do you think?"

"It's big," she blurted.

"Fine, I won't ask again." Milky cream pooled on his foreskin.

Wordlessly, the cheerleader gazed around and flipped the back of her dress up, exposing her flawless ass to him. His jerking speed exploded to a blur.

"I knew you had it in you, if you want to really make my night."

"I think that's enough, you got your thrill."

"But what about yours?"

A breath ripped through her. She flushed when her hips began easing forward, grateful for the shadows obscuring her movements. Maybe the drinks were spiked?

"I'm fine, thanks," she said, checking her phone. Shit. She'd forgotten to click submit on the Uber request due to the pervert's incessant talking.

"What'd you do with my big cock if you had 5 minutes?"

She scoffed. "With you, I'd only need 5 seconds."

"Oooh, and what would that be?"

Her face burned. "I'd... suck your dick."

"Mmm, right between those pretty lips of yours. What's the oldest cock you've had before me?"

"I've never had you."

"That's a decision you're making."

A gaggle of Delta Zetas staggered down the steps, and Camille retreated further into the underbrush, now only a couple feet from his drooling cock. Their laughter and happy chatting passed, leaving him slowly stroking his girth, staring at her. She couldn't have felt more objectified.

The scene gave her the creeps, so she pulled her phone out. Another text from her boyfriend.

Where are you?

She drifted back to the dick yearning for her. She'd never obsessed about dick size. They were only as good as the person they were attached to. But god if her boyfriend hadn't pissed her off. She'd worn these stockings for him, endured his shitty little attitude, and still offered to go to his nerd battles the next day.

Her phone dinged. The Uber countdown ticked under 8 minutes.

"You have a nice dick, and where'd that lead you? You're 80 and jerking off in the bushes."

He laughed. "74 and you woulda left already if it wasn't to your... liking."

"What are you even doing here? This is KD property."

"Ain't heard of Katie. Was she the one horking her guts up there?" He wiped spittle from his lips.

How long had he been watching?

"I was just leaving, 'less you want to share a ride home."

She imagined him walking into the Uber, pants down, cock out. The fleshy tip dribbling its fluid along the door, the back of the seat, her leg...

She didn't know where to place her hands.

"You really think I'd only last 5 seconds? Hell I've been working on it thirty minutes, 'course with these..." he reached out his arthritic fingers, a web of precum spanning between them, "...hardly as good as they used to be."

"I didn't say with my hands."

"With your mouth though? Want to give it a try?"

A girl in heels clattered down the steps, her phone illuminating the shrubs around them. Luckily for Camille she remained unseen, and the girl hurried to a waiting car. Monica?

"Just a kiss then... Make an old man's night, make his life..."

Her boyfriend's text lit her phone. Silent treatment, really mature. Way to be dramatic. Who are you with?

She couldn't help herself. "God, he's a bitch sometimes."

The man's cock twitched, its veins pulsing and moving under the droplets of cum oozing down its length. His eyes studied her, riding the curve of her shimmering dress to her ass she'd shown him moments before. She had to be an athlete of some sort. Girls like her didn't grow on trees.

"We all make mistakes when we're drinking. I ain't a bluenose, swear it. What's it to you, a quick suck for an old man? Give me a little relief?" His hands came off his reddened cock, which didn't dip an inch.

He's hard as fuck for me.

"No. Sorry."

"Just a touch? Please, be nothing for a gal like you..."

"You entertained me more when you didn't beg," she said, checking her phone again. The Uber timer counted down to 7 minutes.

"What'd you wear for him?"

"What?"

"I heard you on the way up. You told him you wore something for him."

Christ, had we been that loud?

"Oh just some stockings..." His cock jumped at the word, rivulets of his fluids draining down his shaft to his balls. He needed a moment to compose his brain, devoid of blood. He searched for words and flicked his hearing aid.

"If you're not going to touch me, hell at least show off for me. That's torture I'm sure you'd enjoy."

The logic aligned in her fuzzy mind. Why not, if I don't touch him, it's not cheating to make an old man beg...

She eased her dress up her thighs, his eyes widening into saucers. His piggish face flushed a purplish red, the color as his angry erection. He might have a heart attack any second. Slickness surged through her core, a growing panging to be filled, instinctual urges flashing louder than the logic and reason numbed by alcohol. The stockings that she'd put on for her boyfriend flashed before his eyes. For a moment, he held every right as her boyfriend, eyeing her body and the rocking of her hips.

She turned away from him, so his view was now of her ass from behind. Her creamy skin begged to be touched, and he couldn't help himself, grabbing a palmful of her perfect ass. The contact broke her out of her daze. If I don't touch him... what's the harm in him getting a tiny feel? He's obviously desperate. Pathetically so.

He pressed his mouth against her stockings and wiggled his tongue against her leg, sucking the drops of spilled beer off her like nectar.

"Mmm pretty..."

She turned to him, his hand trailing the front of her leg and catching on her stocking tops. His fingers, mere bones in the low light, traced the lace down to the sheer fabric that showcased her gams. Both of their breathing quickened, unsure of what to do next, the situation escalating to heights neither expected.

If it was possible, his cock swelled thicker, its veins protruding like blueish ridges. I could never fit that in me...

Her voice caught in her throat. "I - I didn't say you could touch."

She didn't stop his hand from brushing her sheer black g-string, instead reaching for his cock. His jaw dropped as her fingers wrapped around him as far as they could. Even with her nails they didn't come close to encircling his pulsing meat. There was no contest between him and her boyfriend.

The shrubbery blocked out most of the nearby light, and the two groped each other in the darkness. His fingers slipping under the edge of her panties to the silken skin underneath, her struggling to direct the girth in her hand.

In her mind she knew to stop. That it was the wrong thing to do, but the void in her CRAVED what she held, the idea of it pushing into her and brushing all her worries aside, the delicious friction of an oversized cock pumping her, degrading the hottest girl on campus and taking her down a level. Pushing aside all her previous partners, staking its claim to own her pussy, dismantling her whining cunt of a boyfriend with powerful strokes that resized her. That's what she yearned for. That's what didn't stop her when his hand pulled her panties to the side. That's what started the inevitable movement of her hand up his length.

His ragged breathing caught her off guard, the stench of his breath pushing her away. His hand fell off of her, her folds slick and ready. She didn't have to touch them to know her body was prepared for him. To go MUCH further than she'd ever anticipated. Still, she jerked him off, his skin almost searing hers. His fur covered ballsack hung in the dirt, far below she'd imagined they could ever sag.

A milky droplet dribbled down his length onto her nails.

"You're incredible. So pretty, so sexy..." he muttered. His hand soon overlapped hers, the two of them stroking his cock together. His words strummed her like a guitar, hitting all the right notes. The need in her flashed and surged to her legs, which clenched together. She bit her lip. I'm about to make a bad decision.

No one at the party up the hill could've fathomed the queen of the Kappa's crudely jerking off a slob in the darkness.

Her phone illuminated their piece of shrubbery. Are you still with Monica? Babe answer me. The phone's ring pierced their hidden garden before she tossed it in her purse with her free hand. The other caressed and stroked his cock, a surprisingly intimate action with her dress hiked and panties pulled to the side.

"Tell me how it feels, knowing everyone wants you, wants to fuck your brains out."

She hesitated.

"Wearing these little skirts, knowing full well how sexy you look - how all us men jerk off to you."

Her red nails quickened their journey up and down his length, pressing deeply into the turgid ridges of his meat. His veins pulsed, his angry erection bobbing upward.

"Wearing these nylons for your boyfriend... yet showing 'em off for me..."

Her dark eyes flashed into his.

"Is that it? Talking to an old man, jerkin' him off gets you soaked, hmmm?"

She shuddered. She looked down, her dress bunched on her narrow waist, her panties ajar.

"No- of course not..." I can't even convince myself.

He squeezed his hand on hers, precum squirting out onto her perfect nails.

"Then why are you?"

His other hand slipped underneath her dress. She gasped and grabbed his wrist. It's too much. I'm not in control of myself. He can't know. He can't know that I'm... soaked.

He pushed forward, her will collapsing as he brushed her inner thigh. A lightning rod of nerves clenched her legs together, trapping his gnarled hand under her sequins. He wormed it around, gripping the muscle of her thigh, caressing her stocking tops and the smooth nylons below.

She inched her legs open. Her folds parted for a single digit that slipped into her hot, moist depths.

"Ah fuck..." she gasped, biting her lip and squeezing his cock so hard another drop ran down its length. The two continued their groping as cheers rang out above. They probably busted out the keg stand or - He pumped another finger inside her, blanking her mind, her pussy walls conforming to the digits sliding in and out of her.

"So tight for a slut... mhmm... so pretty..."

The shame flushed her cheeks. All her life's choices led her to an elderly creep finger fucking her.

"Or would you rather it be my cock?" He squeezed her hand that was jerking him off furiously. A cold sweat broke out on her brow. His words eased into her mind, the friction of his fingers inside her sparking her hips to a rhythm she couldn't contain.

She could feel him worming deeper inside her, the crooked fingers touching places no one her age ever had. Her thighs no longer clenched around him, now opening and yearning for the old slob's intrusion between her legs. Her pretty face furrowed, thoughts streaming through her head. Fuck... such a filthy old man...

Her lips couldn't help themselves.

"You dirty fucking slob, finger me already!"

He grunted, pulling his thumb out as soon as he'd entered it and sucking it into his teeth deprived mouth, tasting and savoring her flavor.

"Mmm..."

His breathing sank into ragged gasps as she straddled him, her smooth nylons sliding along his hairy legs. He breathed her in, her perfume settling over him, spurring his cock to desperate lurches that nearly hit home. His brain couldn't fathom fucking this girl, her eyes peering into his, his hands slipping down her narrow waist to her ass. Every part of her was sexier than any girl he'd ever seen.

Her perfume swept over him in another wave, the scents of flowers and citrus and femininity nearly erupting his balls.

She flipped her black hair over her shoulder and in a surreal moment on the hill under the Delta Zeta house, their mouths collided, his tongue frantically probing her flawless teeth, shooting through the toothless gap in his mouth. She stifled a gag, her hips still twitching on him. His body odor could've wilted a plant, but his hands squeezed and gripped her ass, admiring how her soft skin absorbed his assault.

The dripping tip of his cock smeared trails of lust on the front of her dress, streaks she didn't see as she pushed her tongue against his. Their making out continued as a group of frat guys descended the steps.

"Having fun over there?" one joked, unaware the girl in the bushes stiffened his cock at the party 30 minutes before. Now she straddled a 74-year-old, her tongue in his mouth, his arthritic hands groping her ass.

"I - I need you to fuck me," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. This pushed her heaving cleavage in Wilbur's face, his lips now covered in her lipstick. He moved in and pulled the top of her dress down, exposing her black lace bra.

"Ugh, god you have some nice tits." He buried his nose in her cleavage, giving her a view of his flaky bald head moving back and forth. It wasn't long before his smelly tongue wormed under the soft fabric, soaking it in his spit.

Fuck he's a disaster. A literal caveman. I couldn't draw up someone as ugly as him. Not wanting him to ruin her expensive bra, she reached behind and unhooked it, the garment hesitating for a moment before falling to the dirt.

His mouth dropped open.

Words couldn't convey what he saw.

The cheerleader's breasts spilled out, gently rippling with her every movement, their weight unaffected by gravity. Her nipples jutted out, begging to be sucked. In decades of perusing dirty magazines, he'd never seen a nicer pair.

"Oh... my... god..." he muttered. His fingers trembled as he reached for them. His eyes widened, drool oozing from the side of his cracked lips.

Her nails brushed his cock and lined it against her slit. His precum filled cockhead pushed against her, his hands finally grasping their prize, mauling her beautiful breasts. He attached his mouth to them, her buds scraping the top of his mouth as he sucked them for all he was worth. The slurping easily overcame the hum of traffic and chorus of chirping crickets.

His foul cock threatened to enter the hottest girl on campus.

She furrowed her brow, unable to gaze past the view of his ridiculous ears that stuck off his head like wings. He could always get a job as a circus freak. What am I doing? Why am I fucking soaked... for such a slob?

She eased her hips downward and closed her eyes, her body squeezing around him. A half an inch went in before she groaned.

"Fuck - it's - it's big..."

He grunted and creeped his way under the hem of her dress, pulling her down by her ass. His bony fingers meandered over her smooth skin like spiders. His cockhead pierced her, pulses of pain ripping through her. She gritted her teeth. He's fucking tearing me apart. Stretching me out in the stockings I wore... just for my boyfriend.

Wilbur couldn't believe the sight above him. The expression on the girl's face slipped from surprise to disbelief as his meat slipped further into her. The heat of her folds relenting around him churned his balls, the loose sack cupping upwards ready to explode.