Creampie

Mable offered her friends Jake and Dean to paint their house. She had picked a beautiful shade of mauve to help them. She arrived early on Saturday morning, and noticed they had already begun when she opened the door.

Mable walked into the living room and saw them painting. They both wore T-shirts and shorts. She admired the bodies when they shone with sweat. Dean said to get her started. Mable decided she should move her mind. She had been with Jake, but never Dean. She wondered how he was doing, but she had to help get their house together and not think about sex.

It all started on Saturday afternoon when I came in after mowing the lawn. Mom jumped me from behind the door and started tickling me without mercy.

“Gottcha!” she screamed and put me against a wall. I started giggling and trying to fight Mom’s fingers off their torture. I know if I didn’t get away soon, Mom would make me laugh in tears.

We’ve been doing this since I was seven. ‘Cause Tomorrow she woke me up for school by jumping on the bed What I slept in and she started tickling me until I begged to stop. But I usually even came on the next weekend, because when Dad had to leave for work very early, so Mom slept late. While she was still asleep, I flew out of nowhere and landed on her bed… And I bounced us both high in the sky. In the past we went upstairs to drop ice cubes together, water balloons coming from nowhere and when we trained in the backyard, we sprayed each other with the garden hose (although we were never outside when that happened. What a mess!). We behaved more like best friends than mother and son.

John, that was beautiful. How’s your day going? Still a bad day?" I giggle.

“I’m having a beautiful day,” you mumble gently, a soft breathing colors your voice.

“Wait till you see what night you’re going to have!” I’m giggling.

“UH oh,” you smile in response.

“Oh dear!” I’m sighing. “I forgot. I brought work I have to read by tomorrow. Why don’t I clean this up from dinner, and I’ll start with the work. You can relax, read the paper, take a shower or something. Sorry, honey, it’s just a few hours of reading. I’ll make it up to you later if you’re patient.” You sigh too, but smile when you see the naughty brilliance in my eyes. “The nite is not over,” you think to yourself.

“This man and his wife love key parties” Emily said it. “The boys throw their keys in a pile and the women pull a set and go home with the man who belongs to the keys.”

“What? That’s not how they do it, is it? I asked her. I was intrigued, stimulated, really. I read and dreamed about this, but I never believed they were true. I thought people were just telling stories, wishful thinking, I’d say. My wife, barely 28, let me meet one of those “key” people. Apparently, when I talked to Emily about these things, I made an impression, and since Emily has a nice pussy, I think she was herself excited by the thoughts, especially knowing I’d give her permission to fuck other men.

Mom was shopping with her friends and Dad was working, so I went to her bedroom, like I did before when she was away for a while. I pulled her sexy lingerie, stockings, and her highest heels, about 5 inches. I put her things on and posed in front of her mirror when Mom caught me.

“Honey, why are you wearing my stuff?” she asked. I jumped and said, “Because they look so beautiful and you look so sexy. And because I wanted to wear something that you had worn.”

Angie didn’t like it. There standing in front of her boyfriend Rick and his friend Luke, exposed her breasts, and her voluptuous 36 inch D cup breasts pulled away from their bra and sagging on her chest every so slightly she was not particularly happy. At least she wore pantyhose, naked in color to prevent her from being completely naked, yet her 38-inch hips were clearly defined as the tiny piece of pubic hair on her pussy. From the waist up though her narrow milky white 32 inch waist was exhibited as her big red nipples. Still, it wasn’t too bad that she only had to serve Rick and Luke a few drinks in this half-naked as part of a bet. At the age of 25 and in the bloom of her life, and proud of a body that just drank sex Appeal Angie took it in her step.

My wife and I had another one of our legendary fights and I decided to just go to sleep in a hotel for the night and just relax. The clerk stared at me strangely when I checked in at 9:00 and had no ID. I explained to him the fight with my wife and how I left my wallet at home and the story about my emergency supply of money in the car and, with a $100 tip, I quickly had a room without asking questions with double queens.

The bright light waved from behind and was extinguished as the door closed to the pipe room, and for a moment they stood where they stood, now seeing more clearly what was before them. They were in a small room, with a long narrow corridor right in front of them. There was a dim but clear light shining down, but the smooth lines of the walls were strangely interrupted by hanging shapes, as if horizontal candles were set there that were softened as they burned and folded down, extinguishing their own wicks and now hardened in permanent downward turns.

They were my best friends, but they got carried away, and it cost me a lot. My name is Gloria and I’m 18, brunette, and what I would call a pretty lucky girl. My only problem is I’m terribly shy. I only went out once and it was a disaster. I couldn’t talk to the boy at all. On my 18th birthday, all my friends threw a surprise party at one of their homes. The girl’s parents were out of town, so we had her house to ourselves. I didn’t know it at the time, but this would be a makeover party for me where my friends were trying to make me up and break my embarrassment. They all had boyfriends and they knew I was probably the prettiest girl in school who was a virgin at my age.

I’m turning 23 in three days. This story is about what happened between my brother and me when I was 14. At that time, I was very surprised.

My brother was 18 then. He wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to go out, he was more reserved and a little shy with girls. In December of that year, my mother decided it was time for him to have his own room. The only problem was that we lived in an apartment. I’d always shared room with him, but now I’d share it with my parents. I didn’t like it.