Nisan 19, 2024

Making a Cream Pie

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I had always adored the feeling of being filled up. With dildos, plugs, the occasional green or orange vegetable when nothing else was available or I fancied a change. Knife handles (and once the blade when I was particularly rampant and in need of new satisfaction) and the handles of toilet brushes. If I saw an object that looked like it could fit – and I had fit some shapes! – into my tight but well-stretched little pussy, I just had to try it! Ditto my willing clenching arsehole!

I seldom bothered with men: there was too much else attached to their most important organ, the lovely Dick. I wouldn’t have minded a woman with a strap-on every now and again, but they too had the same mistaken insistence that their pleasure meant something. It wasn’t that I didn’t like my partner to enjoy themselves… as long as it was a byproduct of my pleasure!

So thanks to my own adroitness in pleasing myself and not giving much of a fuck – hehe – about others, I usually kept to myself and my toy collection. (Or salad drawer, cutlery drawer, etc…)

It was often just before or during a lush and wet pleasure sesh that I thought of what to put inside myself next. I was in the middle of thrusting my beloved dildo in and out of myself, intermittently pausing with clenched thighs to squeeze and pinch my 30c breasts, while my mind wandered into an imaginary land of grabbing hands and lapping tongues and cocks and fingers in all holes. My body was willing – always willing – but my mind was bored by what it was trying to create. It had conjured cocks and hands and tongues galore; what it wanted was something new to fill its owner up, a new sensation and new bliss in surrendering to it. I resumed playing Just the Tip with myself, feeling the head of the flexible yet firm dildo stretch my hole further than the shaft could, thinking of lots of spunk squirting into me. Call it what you will – sperm, cum, semen, seed – I shivered in joy at the thought of it being shot into me, unable to stop it from going as deep as it could, all lovely and gushing and warm and defiant. Then it came, if you’ll excuse the pun, to me.

Cream. Cream pie. Not like the ones in common porn, but something thicker, fluffier… creamier. Something from a nozzle that would bloat out my stomach and make me feel heavy and full. I would literally be creamed in and would make myself feel more of a filled-up dumpster slut than any man could.

Everyone knows that when you’re horny common sense goes out the window. Common sense belongs to the realm of the senseless, of business and the dull. Sensation is for explorers and daredevils, risk-takers for whom no risk is great enough to deter them. Besides, what was a little whipped cream to auto-erotic asphyxiation? I wasn’t likely to accidentally hang myself with this little endeavour.

The 3-inch girth of my dildo went back and forth, my head hung back on my pillow, mouth open, imagining being truly filled up from both ends with thick airy cream until I was overflowing. My clit was twitching and pulsing against the tip of my teasing batıkent escort finger, sliding with little friction due to my juices making me so slick. I moaned, imagining a host of tentacles holding my limbs down, while two busied themselves with my puckered arsehole and quivering pussy, and yet another gagged me with the length of it pressed against my tongue, slipping to the back of my throat; two others still would be coiled around my breasts like sensual vipers, and two more to go with those would be sucking on my engorged nipples. I panted and arched my back, relishing the imagined weight of those slippery eel-like tentacles heavy on my body, thick and relentlessly strong inside me, and my nipples being nibbled by little clamping teeth, until they all suddenly erupted jets of thick billowing cream, potent and rich and flowing onto and into me.

My stomach heaved and rolled in a delicious climax; my hips rocked back and forth. As the waves of my orgasm receded, I continued stroking my clit, the last drabs of my imagination seeing the tentacles continue their beloved assault, unfatigued and as passionate as ever, thrusting and plunging through their cream…

Then I slowed and stopped and lay there with my fingers resting against my vagina, absentmindedly parting and plucking my lips, my idea snowballing in my mind. I knew I’d need more than a can of whipped cream…

/ / /

Whenever I had an itch my whole mind worked on scratching it. Such things became so tangible it was impossible to ignore them; my eyes became clouded and the itch itself hovered continually in front of me. I always thought it must be like an animal gets when it’s in heat: sex becomes less a desire and more a total impulse, with mindless energy devoted to fulfilling it. I believed it was the same as the ritual and the needle to a junk user, where even getting high is just a byproduct in the end to ritual itself.

Such was my travel to the store at the nearest opportunity. I went for nothing but icing bags, two cans of whipped cream, and food to indulge in after such a calorie-burning self-love session.

I cut the icing bags down to as small a size as needed. Why I’d got them in the first place was quite simple: the nozzle of the whipped cream can would be likely to slip away as I jerked and shuddered through my expected delicious orgasm, and I didn’t want any disappointment when it came to being squirted in with as much fluffy cloudy cream as possible! But with a little cutting of an icing bag and (something I already had) a little roll of cardboard inside it, I could at least slide the makeshift tube a little way inside myself and be creamed into to my heart’s content. Oh, if only I could rig up a hollowed-out dildo somehow, to be 7, 8 or 9 inches deep inside my tight little pussy, and have it shoot sweet mounds of cream thick and deep in me.

I could already feel the blood diving down to my vagina and my clitoris, making me tingle and eager. I had my dildo ready too. This was what I beşevler escort liked to get myself aroused with: not foreplay or idle musings, but pushing and twisting the dildo into my tight little sphincter til I felt the head pop into me!

I opened my mouth in a little ‘o’, a silent gasp of expected pleasure. I loved the feeling of tightness as my inner muscles reflexively clenched around the dildo’s girth, and in turn my clit throbbed and ached, as yet untouched. I wilfully pushed the flesh-coloured toy deeper inside myself, sinking three, four, five inches into my little butt. Then six, then seven, stopping only because I was sure that if I went any deeper I would be pulling out loops of colon…! It wasn’t for lack of trying either, but further pushing in the past resulted only in pain and not much else.

Then I slowly began to pull the toy cock out, til I once again felt only the head inside myself. I wiggled the dildo from the base, side to side, then twisted it round before thrusting all seven inches back into me. I started with my legs bent at the knees, feet pressed together, but I could clench my arsehole a lot tighter when my legs were laid flat together. I spent some minutes pulling the dildo out and thrusting it back into myself before touching a finger to my vagina and finding a suitably satisfying wetness. Of course I had already been mentally aroused, but being wet always made me so more receptive to physical sensation.

I was too keen to cream myself up to keep fucking myself, so the dildo lay buried seven inches inside me, feeling firm and snug in my fleshy cavern, as I took a hold of the prepared can of whipped cream to the side of me.

I parted my thighs just a little, enough to have a bit of wiggle room as I parted my pussy lips and brought the adjusted nozzle to the dew-laced hole of my vagina. I squirmed it inside me, holding the weight of the can up and the nozzle’s little push-button with strong, steady and ready fingers. With my other free hand I grasped the base of the dildo again and pushed it into that sweet limit-spot of pain before drawing it out til only the head sat halfway between my rectum and fresh air, my arsehole squeezing automatically, the tight ring of muscles never letting itself get used to being held open.

My breath was already short and excited. I kept the dildo steady as I gave the nozzle an experimental squeeze. With a little hiss, I felt the whipped cream ejaculated out of the can, through the adjusted cardboard/icing bag nose, right inside my vagina! I grunted breathily and my hips jerked in surprise at the shocking foaming sensation. My mind might’ve been prepared in anticipation but my body couldn’t have known what it would feel like! The cream was soft like silk along the inside walls of my pussy, but made firm and forceful by the pressure behind it and only one place to go: up and up deeper into my little fleshy space. I felt pushed apart inside, expanded.

I gave the dildo some half-hearted thrusts before taking büyükesat escort it out. It was shiny where my pussy juices had run down onto it. I gave it a cursory wipe-down and placed it aside before picking up the other whipped cream. The first can was still nestled in my vagina, and as my clit throbbed and I tensed and untensed my vaginal muscles I could feel the cream against my inner flesh, like exploring alien hands deeply probing. I squeezed the first nozzle again, letting another heaving spray of cool whipped cream spray into me. I felt immediately tighter. I moaned a long ‘ooh’ of delight, topped with a little giggle to myself, my legs twisting and toes curling in pleasure. I flexed my pussy muscles; the cream was like the thick head of froth riding the crest of waves in a spewing sea. Oh God, I wanted to be full of the soft thickness of it, arse and pussy!

Quickly, I inserted the second nozzle into my butt and started squirting away, my finger pressed down firmly. I panted and whimpered as the heavy cream was propelled through my tight rectum. Then I resumed spraying the first can, gasping little screams of pure delight as both holes of me filled up. Oh, my teasing clit was dancing by itself too, throbbing back and forth, cream pumping through me in one way, lust-driven blood pumping through me another. I let out a throaty howl and arched my back, eyes shut tight, as I felt the cream start to be forced back out around the nozzle in my pussy, foaming over my hand. Almost manically I pulled that nozzle from in me and rammed it into my mouth, spraying the whipped cream over my tongue til that too was thickly covering my throat, just as the heavy tightness in my butt overflowed too and slowly poured out of me even as I kept gushing wave after wave of cream deep in me. I was squirting cream, I was full up with it, all I could feel was the deep soft thickness of it.

My head was thrown back and I gagged a little but squirted another forceful gush of cream into my mouth before swiftly pushing the first nozzle back into my vagina, through the leaking substance, and kept the waves crashing into and against me.

The dense fluffy cream was stifling my shrieks of ecstasy. Ah, I had squirted out so much cream that I could feel it meeting together from my pussy and bum. My hands were hidden by foam, the sheets beneath me were a sodden mess, and I howled like a wildwoman as I suddenly came, hips jerking and rutting uncontrollably. The second can’s nozzle slipped from my butt, but my finger was still holding down the button and an arcing jet of fluffy cream shot free and splattered over my belly and my breasts and my face! I groaned in the last throes of my orgasm with abandon, hurriedly and hungrily trying to swallow the mountain of whipped cream in my mouth, as I heard the dying hiss of the emptied cans.

“More,” I moaned to myself. I lapped the cream around my mouth with my darting tongue. But the cream was all out – of the cans, at least. It was still slowly leaking from me in a fluffy pool. Suddenly ravenous and feeling decidedly dirty, I dragged my finger along the ridge of my clit, scooping up the cream and licking it clean from my digit. Oh, I tasted good!

Laying there in a wet mess of melting cream and my own juices, fatigued and sated and sticky, I knew I was going to have to make another sudden shopping trip. Maybe this time I’d buy some strawberries too!

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