Message-ID: <33962asstr$1008015002@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <200112101636.LAA31853@sara.asstr-mirror.org> From: "CS" Reply-To: "CS" Priority: Normal MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by sara.asstr-mirror.org id LAA31853 X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Mon, 10 Dec 2001 10:36:34 -0600 Subject: {ASSM} " Creampie Helper" (MF) by Creampie Eater Date: Mon, 10 Dec 2001 15:10:02 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: apuleius, gill-bates DISCLAIMER: This is a story about sex between consenting adults. If you are not an adult, you cannot consent, even to read this story. Therefore, read something else. Note also that my stories may portray sexual acts that are not necessarily safe. Since you are an adult reading this, you know it. Even so, caveat lector. NOTES: This is a story I posted at my club a while ago, but forgot to post onto ASSM. Sorry! Check out my archive at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/creampie/www You should also check out my *FREE* Yahoo club, where we discuss our love of creampies and post stories: http://clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/CreampieStories As always, comments can be sent the old-fashioned way to CreampieStories@yahoo.com. I adore comments, good and bad, but rarely receive them. Why not send comments today to the authors you read on ASS and ASSM, including me? Note too that this story, like all my stories, is Copyright (C) 2001 by Creampie Eater. All Rights Reserved. No commercial posting is allowed. Please drop me a note asking permission to post on your personal web site. No modification whatsoever is allowed. Creampie Helper --------------- My phone buzzed during my meeting. I had set it to vibrate to not disturb the proceedings, and I didn't look at it until the meeting was concluded because we were almost done. The missed call was from my wife, and I called her before packing up. "What's up?" I asked. "What're you doing?" Perra inanely asked. She knew I was in meetings today. "I'm about to pack up and head home," I told her. "Could I convince you to stop by Caren and Mitch's on the way?" she inquired. "On the way?" I responded, incredulous. "They're at least an hour there and an hour and a half back. I'll miss my plane!" "Doesn't Southwest fl y every half-hour?" she pointed out. "Yeah, but..." "She needs help moving some things I told her I'd ask if you could help. If you don't want to help..." Perra's voice trailed off, leading me to the conclusion that if I didn't help I'd be an asshole. "All I wanted to do was get home to you," I told her. "I thought I could get home a little early, get on your good side, and maybe we could have a little romance tonight." We hadn't had sex in almost three weeks, and I was one horny individual. "I don't think so," she put me off sounding somewhat pleased. "We're having five boys over for a sleepover." I groaned. There'd be no chance of sex tonight. "Well, if you put it that way, call Caren and tell her I'm on my way." My forecast to get to their house was not too far off. I was a little later, because I stopped to get some beer. They lived in a dry community, so picking up something to drink was always appreciated. I pulled up to their 10,000 square foot house, noting that only the Jaguar was in the drive. Ringing the doorbell, I was surprised to have it answered by Caren; the Jaguar was Mitch's car and the Expedition was hers. He had her car. "Hi!" I said brightly. As always when I saw her, I took in every detail in a glance and my heart quickened. Caren looked like she was working around the house, in a t-shirt emblazoned with a blood donor thank you logo, khaki shorts, and bare feet. She wore no make-up that I could see, and her chin-length bob was mussed. She was nothing special to look at, but her sexuality was intoxicating and I was madly in lust with her. I regretted that they had moved to Dallas. "Oh, you're so nice," she smiled, taking the beer from me and leading me to the kitchen. I noted that they were almost done with the house. They had moved a month ago, and I had been here a week after that with Perra and the kids. "Place looks nice Caren," I commented. I looked around, appreciating the rich details Caren had added. Accessories were subtly placed to accent the rooms' themes. Her taste wasn't mine, but I could appreciate it. "Thank you!" she smiled at me. God, she was fetching. "Where's Mitch and the boys?" I asked. "He took them to baseball, and then to soccer," she said. "Thursdays are killers." "He came home early to take the kids off your hands?" I asked. Mitch was a busy executive, and I didn't visualize him playing a soccer dad. "Actually, he was gone for two weeks to Europe and Asia, and got back yesterday. He wanted to stay home and spend time with me and the kids today." "That's awfully nice," I smiled at her. I could envision him pounding away at her pussy in a non-stop fuckfest while the kids were at school. Caren loved sex. "Yeah, but it could have been better," she said ruefully. She was opening a couple colder beers from their special fridge kept extra cold. She handed one to me. "He slept all day because of jet lag and overall exhaustion. He didn't wake up until the kids got home." "Wow, that's a lot of sleep." I had never in my life slept that much. Of course, I hadn't spent two weeks in stressful meetings across so many timezones. "And I had big plans, starting with a rose-petal bath," she pouted. I imagined how horny she had been, and then how frustrated she was now. Caren has a very sexual attitude anyways, and without her man as an outlet it often bubbled over in bawdy comments. I would have to be very careful to control my lust for her. I too was very sexual, but I had no outlet since my wife was a frigid bitch. She and I always had a sexual tension going, and the lack of recent sex was going to escalate it. I recalled two Christmas parties ago, when we both got too drunk and let our guard down. It only got as far as kissing in a bathroom, but I remembered the emotion still. "What did you want help with?" I asked, changing the subject abruptly. "Well, I need to move the stuff in our master bath so that the painter can finish the mural. Then I need to move the patio furniture so that the gardener can work there." She had a few extra items, but I was puzzled. Even though the things were massively heavy (she didn't buy light cheap stuff; things that normal people bought to look like stone were actual stone here), I was sure the painter would have moved the stuff, and the gardener's could have moved the things as well. Hell, even Mitch could have helped her. I concluded that she wanted me here for some reason, and Mitch's absence was telling. "Let's get started," I said. We started with the game room, moving the TV from one side of the cable outlet to the other. By the time we were done (Caren is a perfectionist), my beer was gone and so was hers. We had to suffer dry through moving the bunk beds in the kid's rooms before we rewarded ourselves with another cold one. Meanwhile we had talked a lot about little things, and she or I always had an off-color comment. I found myself desiring her greatly, and feeling the urge to tell her. The beer didn't help a bit. We both guzzled a beer and took a third before going out to the patio. We were lifting one of the authentic marble benches when I blurted out, "You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now." Oh shit! I wanted to retrieve those words as soon as I said them. I felt like I'd fucked up a great friendship. She stopped in place, and looked at me with eyes blazing. "You have no idea how much I want you to kiss me," she said. Wow! But the odd thing is that we just continued moving heavy things, and avoiding actually kissing. We had expressed our desires, but we were unwilling to act on them. We went back into the kitchen, now hot from the Dallas atmosphere, and got a fourth beer. "So why don't we kiss?" I asked, savoring the nearly frozen liquid. "We've kissed before." "I think it's because we like each other and are afraid we'll screw up our marriages. It wouldn't be as casual as we want," she said. "Or maybe we are both chicken." She was smiling. I thought about that. She was probably right on both counts. But as we went into the bath to move the last things, the tension was overwhelming. Uncharacteristically, I acted. She went to one side of the drying rack to grab it, expecting me to go to the other. Instead, I followed her and held her surprised face between my hands, pulling her plush lips to mine. There was nothing tender about the kiss after the first three seconds. An hour of tension-- years really--exploded into a passionate kiss. Caren is very Type A. As a consequence, we each fought with our tongues for control, kissing very deeply. We were both moaning. "Fuck me," she panted. I obliged. I backed her up to the marble vanity, and fumbled with my pants while she fumbled with her shorts. Both dropped to the floor and in I pressed immediately into her. I had romantic fantasies about her. Tumbling around on a bed, caressing her supple naked flesh. Kissing tenderly while mumbling words of love. In reality, I pumped her hard while she urged me to do it harder. In reality, she put her legs around me and forced me as deep into her as I could get. There was some kissing, but it was mostly nasty talk and pants. It was fierce and fervent, and short. I warned after three minutes that I was about to cum. "Cum in me, cum in me!" she commanded. Moments later, I did. I whined with need fulfilled as I shot my load into her. As quickly as it started, it was over. We were both panting, and I felt embarrassed to have shot so quickly. But more than that, I wanted to get her off. And taste her. I kissed her before extracting my limp dick, and sinking to my knees. "What are you doing?" she said, turned on and worried, both. "I need to clean up my mess," I smiled. "And I have unfinished business here." I ignored her gasp, concentrating on my first view of her pussy. As I expected, it was nicely trimmed. Her hole was open between two butterfly wings, and I used my fingers to open her up and gave a long slow lick. "Oh my God," she exclaimed. "Are you eating your cum?" "I'm cleaning you up," I smiled at her, beginning to suck her clitoris. "Can't let Mitch find my cum in you tonight." She let that comment ride, and soon was pressing her leaking creampie into my face. I fingered her while licking her clit, then smeared the goo over her bud to kiss away. I often dropped my mouth to her hole, sucking and tonguing the mixture we made together. Caren began to whimper, closing in on a big orgasm. I just kept doing what I was doing, perhaps a bit stronger and in a steady rhythm. She came hard, and I used my thumb against her clit as I captured the ejected cream in my mouth. Standing, I pressed my lips to her gasping mouth, shoving the creampie into her mouth. She moaned softly, her orgasm extended a little as I rubbed her gently. She shook occasionally as we shared the expelled ejaculate. She put her arms around my neck, and we moved into a conventional kiss. Now the passion was over, and the kisses were romantic and soft. "I can't believe you did that," she smiled. "I like doing it," I told her. "I could have douched, you know." "I know, but I wanted to make you cum." "You did, you sure did," she smiled. We kissed more. We were lovers now. "Hey, Mitch is saying we'll fly down for your Christmas party this year," she said, smiling brightly. "Really? That's very cool." I looked at my watch. "Caren, I hate to dump a load and dash, but I need to catch a plane." "That's OK. Call me next time you are in town." I pulled up my shorts, and she pulled up hers. We walked hand in hand to the front door, and I looked quickly outside before kissing her goodbye. "Come to the party and I'll put mistletoe in your panties." She laughed. "Say hi to Mitch for me, and sorry I missed him." "Oh, he doesn't know you're here," she said. That gave me something to think about on the way home. I had been set up, and I was sure glad I was. ----------- Comments appreciated. :) _________________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+