Secret Creampie Eater

Note from author: This is my first story and so I'd very much welcome constructive feedback. Enjoy :)

It came from nowhere - the thought of it, strange, sudden, and unbidden.

Sarah lay beside me, well fucked, breathless, and sheened with sweat. Her legs were parted, just so, and her pussy lips swollen, oozing pearlescence, wet with her cum and mine. It was then, right then, that I found myself wondering how her creampie might taste.

'What?' she said, with a quizzical half-smile, as if reading my mind.

I rested my palm against her tummy, then to her thigh, wanting to run my fingers through the dark shade of her trimmed pubic hair - I had wanted her to shave bare, but she thought it made her look like a slut.

'And why would you want that?' she said.

I traced with my fingertip, gathering up her moistness and circling the vivid pink of her swollen clit, she shivered at that, and then down along her labia wanting to press my finger deep into our shared juices.

'Don't,' she said, with a half-frown, 'I'm dirty'.

She rose and closed the bathroom door. My finger was still wet, her cum and my cum mingling. I sniffed at it, tasted it with the tip of my tongue, then sucked in my finger savouring the sweet and saltiness and sheer fucked-up dirtiness of it. I reached for my cock: I was rock hard.

Behind the bathroom door, Sarah ran the shower, humming softly to herself.

With Sarah, it was always the same. We'd been together just shy of a year, courting and chaste for that first month, making out like horny teenagers for the second - she was 29, me, at 35, older - and then fucking from the third month on.

And Sarah was an enthusiastic fuck, we did click, but it was pure vanilla: missionary for the week and doggy for the weekend, which made me wonder how much experience she'd had before we met. I once asked her and she replied with a sphinxian smile, 'Oh, I've had one or two'. But I continued to wonder.

Sarah tits were incredible. C-cups and ripe, but little more than the perfect handful. Her flesh was milk-white with a shock-trace of deep blue veins. And her nipples were rich red-brown and hardened and swelled at the slightest provocation. A couple of times I'd persuaded her to fuck me cowgirl, just so that I could reach up and toy with her perfection whilst she rode me. And she fucking loved it as I licked at the beading sweat from the cleft of her chest, she holding me all the while, her hand against my neck, pressing my mouth against her ripe buds as if wishing that I would devour her whole.

But only a couple of times.

'It hurts my knees,' she said.

But I guessed better. It came down to a deeper shame, something that she wouldn't share no matter how I might ask. All of it leaving me to speculate as to the reasons why she was as she was. Imagined crises involving absent fathers, neglectful mothers, and dishonourable boyfriends. Something that held her tight, preventing her from ever truly letting go.

But there were moments. Times when she would lose herself despite herself. Times when she would take over and, in those moments, it was she who was fucking me with all of the passion and all of the wonder of her full 29 years. But then, after, came that strange detachment and sad regret.

One time, I asked her to suck my cock.

'I'm not a slut,' she said.

'Sucking cock doesn't make you a slut.' But she didn't look convinced.

'Any girl who eats cum is a slut,' she said, resolved. 'Everyone knows that.'

I thought to argue, but she was already standing, pulling her nightdress over her shoulders, making her way to the bathroom.

Each time, before we fucked, she'd want me to finger her, but couldn't bring herself to ask. We'd kiss, touch, press our bodies together, each of us becoming more frantic still. Then she would untangle, lie back beside me, part her legs just so, and I'd trace down with my finger, seeking out her wetness, stroking the bud of her clit.

She wouldn't suck my cock, but she would let me go down on her. Not every time, and even then she'd cover her face with length of her arm, as if the act of seeing me eat her out made her complicit in some strange way.

And then we'd fuck, but penetration would never take her over the edge. It needed me to bring her off first, with my hand, or with my mouth.

Sarah was vanilla. Too vanilla to suck cock. Too vanilla to ask for head. And too vanilla to even contemplate me eating her out after.

And if I wasn't such an irredeemable pervert, I would have left it there - in the realm of fantasy. But the idea of it grew, insidious, and that night, it was all I could think of, her cum mingled with mine, still there, right there, the faint scent and taste of it on my fingers, my lips, my tongue.

The next morning, she showered again, gathered her stuff and headed back to her place. The front door swung shut, her car started up with a splutter, and the iPad was already propped against my chest as I searched for 'creampie eating porn,' my cock as hard as it had ever been.

I was late for work that day, wanking like a mad thing, starting first with the crappy staged stuff: the badly dressed set, shitty dialogue, fake-ass porn actress, and the same dupe, video after video, pretending to be the husband, bored, watching some hung black bull turn her out, before then dipping his tongue into their shared cum for half a second or less, face screwed up as if he'd rather be doing anything else.

That night I was at it again, this time searching for 'Amateur creampie eating porn,' which mostly pulled up more of the same. 'Real creampie eating porn,' was better, and 'Homemade creampie eating porn,' delivered the jackpot. Normal looking guys in normal looking bedrooms fucking their normal looking girlfriends. Boyfriend after boyfriend grunting as he pumped cum deep inside girlfriend's fuckhole, and her, sweating, serene, legs spread wide and beautiful, a crook of the finger - 'Get to it,' - and then boyfriend down between her thighs, lapping away as if it were his last meal on planet earth.

For the next two days I fell down the rabbit hole wanking myself sore, but knowing that she would never willingly give me this. I considered the options: should I cheat, find some local skank who'd let me fuck her any which way? But I knew it wouldn't be enough. It was Sarah that I wanted. Her pussy. Our shared juices. Our taste.

And then it came to me. A way I might actually get what I want.

Fast forward to Friday night and Sarah came over as planned, expecting that we might hang out, stream some anodyne reality TV shit, and then fuck.

'Let's go out,' I said.

'Ooh,' she said, surprised, but clearly down. 'Where?'

'Cocktails and dancing,' I said, and she clapped her hands.

'I need to change.'

'Can I watch?' I said, as she headed into the bedroom.

'I've told you before: I'm not a slut.' But she said it with a grin, and then closed the door.

The first step of the plan. Sarah loved dancing, the intensity, the thump of bass, the swell of bodies - one pressing into the other - the tang of sweat, and the two of us at the centre of it all: hands against each other's neck, back, hip, ass. Her tongue in my mouth as the room undulated all around.

We got back to my place at one, Sarah reeling through the door, kicking away her heels with a drunken glee.

'Shhhh,' she said, as I grabbed for her ass. The two of us drunk and horny in equal measure.

Through and into the bedroom, I swung the door shut and pushed her flat against it. She gasped, my mouth hard against hers, thrusting her tongue back with a groan. I pawed her breast through the silk sheen of the dress, the sweat and heat of our night had moulded it tight against her curves, like a second skin. No bra, her nipple sculped in satin blue, now so tight that I could count every pore. I squeezed her between my fingers, distending her nipple away from her body. She winced and then murmured into my mouth.

'Take it,' I said, and pinched again. She blinked and I wondered if I'd pushed it too hard, but then she was against me and murmuring into my mouth.

I cupped her ass, half-lifted, parting her legs with knees, wanting to rough fuck her there, against the door, and, in this frenzy, she would have let me. But that wasn't the plan.

I pushed my crotch against her, the thick length of my cock pressing hard against her stomach, and she humped my leg, dress hitched up, her pussy warm against my thigh, even through my jeans.

I crushed her breast hard and she threw back her head, then into my ear, lips blood-flushed and swollen, she whispered my name, her eyes now little more than half-lids.

I turned her away from the door, her back now to the bed, my hands up under her dress and against the bare flesh of her ass, spreading her cheeks, wanting to tease her darker hole with the tip of my finger, but refraining. Then digging into flesh, wanting to tear, but instead sliding her g-string down over her curves, and then from under her. Her mouth was still against mine, tongue hot, thick, frantic.

She kicked her panties loose as I tugged at the straps of her dress, wanting her tits free and against my hands, needing her full nakedness pressed to mine.

'Don't rip,' she said, as I pushed her dress over her hips, one hand against her breast before pulling at her nipples. 'Fuck it,' she said and then groaned, the two of us falling back onto the bed.

She fumbled at my belt, all fingers and thumbs. I took over, pulled it loose, the buckle clattering against the floor, and then shrugged off my jeans. Her eyes rolled back as I swept my fingers over her mons before pushing two digits, without hesitation or consideration, deep into her warm wetness. And she was fucking dripping.

This was the plan.

'Yes,' she hissed as she arched her pelvis towards me, fucking herself against my hand, the squelch of it over the pant of breath.

I withdrew my fingers, fuck-drunk and wanting to push the wetness of my hand into her mouth to make her taste it. But the plan was working. I didn't want to spoil a thing. I pushed my fingers back into her, curving up, reaching for that perfect spot. Then out before giving her it again, three fingers this time, her eyes widened.

'You can take it,' I said.

'Yes,' she whimpered.

I half twisted, withdrew, and pushed in again.

'Ugh,' she said, stretching her legs.

Again, pulling out and smearing slop over her clit. She grabbed at my wrist as if to pull away, but then pushed my fingers hard against her clit. I stroked at her nub, three fingers, round and round in the laziest of circles.

'Please,' she said, wanting to cum.

But that wasn't the plan. Instead, I pushed back in - toying with giving her a fourth finger, my entire fucking fist, but it was too much, and it wasn't the plan, so I stuck to three.

'Tell me you want it,' I said.

She shook her head, but only for a moment.

'Please,' she said.

'Please what?'

'Please give it to me.'

I pushed my fingers back in, slow at first, out, and then again, now finger banging her with relish.

'Oh, oh, oh,' she said with each thrust, pushing into it, trying to get off. It wasn't enough for her to cum, but now she was sopping, messy, her pussy creaming, her thighs, ass, the sheets under her wet through with her juice.

This was the plan. To get her get her soaked and fuck-frenzied.

I rolled onto her, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, the weight of me causing her to gasp and then pant. I roughly parted her thighs and lined up my cock.

'Fuck,' she said, and then, 'Oh fuck,' as I thrusted hard inside her, watching her face crumple then widen as I gave her my full length with a succession of smooth strokes.

'Fuck. More,' and I pushed hard, full deep, the slap of my balls against her ass. She groaned, turning her head away from me.

'More. Please. More.' She sounded desperate now, and I knew that it was going to work and I knew that I was going to have my way and I could feel the cum insistent. I knew it wouldn't be long and, fuck, I wanted it, I wanted it, I wanted it. But a part of me wondered if I'd really follow through.

But Sarah, Sarah was clinging to my ass, pulling me deep, trying for that friction, that rub against her clit that would take her over and over the edge.

'Harder. Fuck. Harder.' I gave it her full, hips against hips, flesh against flesh, bone against bone. Her tightness and wetness pushing me closer and closer.

'Don't cum yet,' she said, as I began to pound her.

I'd nearly given myself away. My cum face. Instead I slowed, just a little, and settled. But the pressure was there. The pressure to release. The pressure to fill her cunt to the brim and more.

'Touch yourself,' I said, 'Stroke your clit,' and I swear she blushed like a schoolgirl. She chewed at her lip with a slight shake of the head.

I upped the rhythm again, fucking her harder, my face straight, wanting to moan, but keeping it in. Her legs were now wrapped tight around my ass, her hands against my shoulders, nails into flesh. She needed her cum, but it wouldn't. Not like this. And that was the plan.

To get her wet, this wet, sopping wet so that she couldn't tell the difference. And to get her into this state, where the need to cum, the frenzy of it, blinded her to all else.

I pounded her like a wild thing and I could feel it coming, the point of no return, which was the point of all of this. The plan. And for a second, I wondered if I would still want it - the taste, the mess, the nastiness - once I was spent, once I'd cum, would I still want it.

'Touch yourself,' I said, 'Get yourself off.'

Another shake of the head. 'I'm not a slut,' she said, in something like a whisper. Ashamed.

I wanted to take her throat, to fuck her with full violence. But instead, 'I want to see you cum.'

She closed her eyes, hands still on my shoulders, but concentrating, willing herself to cum on my cock, but it wouldn't be enough. She always needed more.

I was jack hammering into her, the sound, the sweat, the smell of two bodies colliding. And I could feel my balls begin to tighten, I was so close.

And this was the plan.

A slight lift of the chin, and clench of the teeth, that was the only tell. And the fact that I exploded, spewing cum deep inside her. But I continued to fuck, she, sloppy before and sloppy now. Fucking her with smoothest of strokes, languid even, knowing that she would not notice, knowing that she was preoccupied with her own cum and little more.

I gave it to her for a few more strokes, feeling myself begin to wilt, knowing what came next, only now the appetite had begun to wane.

But this was the plan, and so I rolled away as she tried to pull me back.

'Have you cum?' she asked, with something like disappointment and with something like desperation.

'No,' I said, and she stroked at my hair with no question, no doubt, because after all, why would I lie about this?

'Mmm,' she sighed as sucked at her neck, nibbled at her shoulder, and down to her breast. I tongued at her nipple causing her to gasp, twist and to writhe.

'Let me get you off,' I said, her hand against the back of my head as I moved lower.

'I'm dirty,' she said, but I was at her tummy, my eyes meeting her.

'It's just you,' my chin against her pubis, my cock shrivelled down to nothing, leaving a slug-trail of leftover cum against the bed sheet.

I could smell her now, I could smell us, the sweat, her tang and something else that I knew was me. I could feel the stickiness of her thighs against my chest, her legs wide and she was gaping, more than before and more than I remembered. Gaping, her lips foamed and angry red, milk-white ooze pooling and trailing along her taint. And a sense of doubt, the smell pungent and provoking something akin to revulsion. The need had now dwindled to nothing and I thought about working my way back up and then bringing her off with my fingers.

Only now her hand was tangled into my hair, pulling me down.

First to her clit. I turned my face, she rubbed her cunt against my cheek, smearing me with her wetness.

'Lick me,' she said, pulling harder at my head, first away and then repositioning me. My nose was up against her clit and she used me for four, five, maybe six fuckstrokes, pushing her cunt hole against my chin, my lips, my mouth so that I could taste her. Then pulling me up, the fat of my bottom lip rubbing against her clit, whether I wanted it or not. And I no longer wanted it. She humped at me again, and so I licked at her nub with the flat of my tongue, thinking to get her off and get this over. She gasped and arched and opened her legs wide, her ankles hooked over my arms and holding me in place. I licked again at her clit, this time with practiced focus, and, up here, the taste was all her - or at least mostly. The thick flat of my tongue against her moist heat and I could taste it, her tang with a trace of saltiness.

'Like that,' she said, and so again, pressing harder with my tongue, attacking this time from the side and flicking at her clit, pushing her harder and closer and nearly over.

'Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,' she said, but loud and quite unlike her - normally so concerned with what the neighbours might think were they to hear.

'I don't want them thinking I'm a slut,' she'd once said.

But now she held my head in both hands, her fingers pressing, almost caressing, pulling me deeper into her, directing me to suck at her clit.

'There,' she said, 'right there.' And now she trembled, her thighs quivering. Her cum was close.

'Ugh,' she said, 'I want to feel you inside me.'

This was new. She tightened her grip on my hair and pushed my face down, rubbing her slickness against my mouth until I was in place, mouth closed tight against the creamy gaping fuck-mess that was her cunt.

'There,' she said, 'Deeper'.

And I didn't want this, her creampie nasty and bubbling against her lips. She pulled harder at my hair, fingers tangled, hard enough to hurt. My face was tight now against her nasty gape so that I was inhaling her: the smell of cum, her cum and mine. I didn't want this, but her legs were now across my shoulders, her full weight pulling me into the bed, into her cunt, into her wetness.

'Eat me,' she said who had never before asked such a thing.

And what could I do - I'd wanted this, I'd arranged this, this was all me.

And so I licked with my tongue and her lips fully parted and she was slick, she was sticky, and she began to ooze slime onto my lips, onto my tongue, against my chin. I could still taste her, but it was now me, mostly me.

'Fuck me deeper,' she said, and now she was grinding against my face. I reminded myself again that I'd wanted this and I pressed deeper with my tongue.

Reading me true she loosened her grip and I pulled away, looked up to her, my eyes wide, my mouth and chin and face covered with slop, smeared with cum.

'I know what you did,' she said.

I blinked stupid, then blushed like a teenage prom-date sucking her first cock.

'Make it count,' she said, 'Get me off.'

She pulled me back into her cunt, holding me tight but tenderly. And I ate her, pushing my tongue deeper, feeling her loosen further, her juices begin to swell. But it was more, the need was returning, my cock again beginning to harden.

'Is this what you wanted?' she asked, and I knew, I knew that this was it. Not the cum, not the taste, not the creampie, not the cunt, but instead, the nastiness, the humiliation, and the confirmation that this was where I belonged. I nodded as I lapped, my mouth now relishing the filthy aftertaste of our fuck. I nodded, but now with desire and something akin to need.

I reached for her tits, and she let me, loosening her grip. I pulled at her nipples and strained as I pushed my tongue deeper.

'Yes. Hold it like that.' She took me again by the hair and jerked my head back and forth, pushing with her hips, fucking my tongue as if it were a cock. My tongue slipped deeper and now I could taste it, not the froth and the sweat and the juice, but the pure creampie. My tongue was washed with it, my mouth was filled with it, and the taste was nasty and sweet, pungent and undeniable.