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Author: Arthur Kay Title: Susie Cream Cheese: EZ to Spread! Summary: Susie
wants to screw every guy in New York City--without getting herself killed
as Diane Keaton did in Looking for Mr. Goodbar. So, she comes up with her
sure-fire master plan . . . ! Keywords: MF, M+F, WS
WARNING: This is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual
descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are
offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now. Any
resemblance between this and a real event is purely coincidental.
The participants are imaginary; their actions have no negative consequences
other than those portrayed in the story. The is intended for
entertainment only and should not be emulated in the real world.
Susie Cream Cheese: EZ to spread!
by Arthur Kay
You've probably never heard of Susan Wills. For, indeed, in the past
ten years or so she's kept a very low profile. In spite of having had sex
with over 1,500 from coast to coast.
None of these knew, or know, her real name, either. They knew her
by her self-imposed nickname, Ms. Susie Cream Cheese. She'd tell the men,
when they naturally inquired about her odd name, "I'm the who's easy
to spread! Just like cream Cheese. Only a lot tastier!"
And spread her they did, over and over, this brown-haired, brown-eyed
cutie. She stood 5' 5" in feet and hadn't an ounce of fat
anywhere on her shapely frame. Her were small, but the nipples
were large and so sensitive they'd be called perky by anyone with any sense
whatsoever.
Add a mouth that looked perfect for kissing (or on something),
an ass that jutted out in a twin bubble pattern, and you can see why most
men would have the hots for her. I know I did. That's how I got her whole
true and unvarnished story.
But she wasn't always known as Susie Cream Cheese, no sirree.
In high school, the most a fella got from Susie was a titty feel or, if
he was a really good boy, a quick handjob. Her was off limits,
Charlie, make no mistake about that. Susie was too concerned about her
reputation in the neighborhood to go beyond a five-fingered assist.
In college, and far from her home turf, Susie had let herself have a tad
more leeway. Leeway enough, you might say, to have her cherry popped. By
a bumbling and fumbling nerdy type who answered to the name of Calvin
Chauncy Cooler. Three Cee to his friends and Cee Cee or Cally to his
family.
Now, what Three Cee, or Cee Cee, or Cally, take your pick, lacked in
sexual finesse, he made up for by having just enough pecker length to bust
her hymen. For keeps, dontcha know. And Cee Cee, at twenty years
young, admitted to her that he had just lost his virginity, too. You could
say they shared the moment. And a cigarette, too. But not the future.
For Susie dropped him quicker than you could say, ahem, Three Cee, or Cee
Cee, or Cally. Take your pick.
Now, don't you go thinking that this mismatched coupling was an accident
of fate or a sperm of the moment thing. Oh, no! This was a planned
fucking by a master planner. Susie knew Calvin was controllable, being
such a nerd and all, could do what was necessary, and wouldn't put up much
of an argument when she lowered the boom on him. And she was right. Cal simply moved on, sorrier for doing so, but with at least one real fuck
under his belt and to his personal credit.
Susie loved the freedom that being at gave her and, with her
hormones raging up a storm, intended to take full advantage of the
situation. But first she needed to protect herself from getting pregnant.
A thought brought to scary light when her next period after her Calvin
fiasco was a few days late. So she tried a diaphragm. It was awkward and
putting it in killed the passion of the moment somewhat, but she knew it
was a necessity.
Now, being a master planner, Susie didn't go slam-banging into the
college world, fucking here and there without regards for her personal
space. Oh, no, she chose her very carefully and, you guessed it, they
were all the nerdy type. who, if they chose to spread nasty rumors
about her, had very little chance of being believed.
And, proceeding slowly, she let only three such try out her new
diaphragm thingy. Once each, but no more. She was finding her way and
testing things out. They could have used her patience and planning
abilities for the Normandy invasion in World War two.
Then along came birth control pills and the sexual revolution. Well,
lordy, lordy, you could measure the speed of light by how fast she got a
prescription and had it filled. Susie felt, at the time, that mankind had
introduced the pills and the new sexual attitudes with her specifically in
mind. As she had said to her roomie, more than once, "A pill a day let's
you fuck away! Hooray! Hooray!"
Susie tested the pill's efficacy on eight nerdy in such rapid
succession their heads are probably still spinning today when merely
thinking about their encounters with her. But then, wouldn't you know it,
she fell in love. The head over heels kind of love. And with the eighth
nerd, no less.
His name was Gregory Wills. He was nerdy, to be sure, but somehow he
seemed less so to a in love. Oh, yeah, he wore thick, horn-rimmed
glasses, a nerdy-nerdy pocket protector, and funny, ill fitting, out of
fashion clothing, but he was also tall and nicely built. Throw an 8" +
boner with the ability to use it quite well into the mix and--voila! Love.
Or close enough to it.
Thus far I've omitted any reference to oral sex, or as you pervs say,
cocksucking and eating. You see, Susie, in a decidedly prudish vein,
was saving her mouth, and its sweet potential, for the of her dreams.
Silly goose!
While she had fantasized about a dick, had even read up on
technique, and had discussed the subject in great detail with her roommate,
Willa, thus far the only thing to enter her mouth in oral giving fashion
was a practice banana now and then. With the skin on, naturally.
Since, as they say, practice makes perfect, Susie was soon able to
deep-throat the biggest bananas available from the supermarket. If 10"
bananas could talk, they'd undoubtedly say to the rest of the yellow bunch,
"Whatta mouth, whatta throat!"
That was the exact words that gushed out of Greg the first time she
sprang her oral talents on him. He yelled them out just a few seconds
before he blasted her mouth with his nerdy cum. A taste that Susie found
to be unbelievably delicious.
Whether it was her love for Greg or not, the session firmly established
two truisms in her brain: She loved cock and she loved swallowing
cum. Even more than actual fucking, which she found to be okay, but
nowhere near as pleasant as a cock in the mouth. And her orgasms while
sucking away were more intense than the ones she got from mere screwing
Whatever her sexual likes, she and Greg fucked and like rabbits,
right up to, and through, their elopement one fine weekend. One of those
four-day long weekends. The B&B the Wills' honeymooned at had a marriage
suite and the two of them saw nothing else the whole time there. To Susie,
her Greg was an who matched her thrust for thrust. The new Mrs.
Wills was in heaven.
However, heaven lasted only three months. Then Greg started getting
tired. Very tired. Holding down a part-time job and with classes and all,
the poor was whipped all the time. He'd come home to the little room
they had rented over someone's garage and just collapse on the couch. He
called it playing blob. "I'm bushed, baby, I just want to play blob
tonight and watch some TV. OK?"
No, it was not OK. Not by a long shot and certainly not to a recently
wedded hot and horny gal. Naturally, argument after argument ensued and
the marriage went quickly on the friggin' rocks of divorce. Goodbye,
Greg, it's been fun, but I got some serious fucking to do. That, she told
me, was loosely in her thoughts at the time.
Well, once again free, she fiddled around with a handful of here
and there, with her heart not fully in it, until graduation day. She
wasn't out of even a week when she landed a job at a manufacturer
of women's clothing. Right in the heart of the silk district of
New York City. As a trainee in the sales department.
She learned quickly and, with her natural planning talents, was promoted
to assistant buyer in less than a year. She had found her career niche in
life.
But, naturally, she still had volatile hormones and they spoke to her
each and every day. "You need some fucking and sucking, girl!" they seemed
to scream out. "So, go and get you some before someone else uses it all
up." She wanted to, badly, but she had just finished reading Judith
Rossner's "Looking For Mr. Goodbar" and it had thrown a fitful scare into
her.
This allegedly true of a plain Jane schoolteacher who trolls the
seedy singles bars at night looking for sex only to die at the hands of a
psychopathic killer, well, it was just too vivid and horrifying to Susie. A
girl had to be careful.
When the came out, with Diane Keaton as the schoolmarm, Tom
Berenger as the loony, and Tuesday Weld as her sister, Susie resisted going
to see it. But when she learned that Richard Gere, that hunky hunk of a
hunk, was also in it, she weakened and went to see it . . . with a
girlfriend, of course.
The hammered the point home, even more so than the book, that a
horny could get her ass killed . . . in a heartbeat . . . by
indiscriminate sex with total strangers.
Unless . . .
Unless the playing field, the sex arena, could be controlled somehow.
That eliminated singles bars of any stripe. Too dangerous by their very
open nature, their willingness to let all and anyone pass through their
doors. They made no attempt to (how could they and why should they?) keep
out the riffraff, the hoi polloi and, most assuredly, your everyday
run-of-the-mill psychopathic or sociopathic maniac.
Yes, singles bars sucked, but she knew just where some fairly safe
places to meet existed. She'd learned that little fact from attending
out-of-town sales meetings for the company's buyers.
Hotel bars. With wall-to-wall men. Well-dressed businessmen in suit
and tie. In town on business. who were probably which made
them even more attractive to her as there would be no sloppy breaking up
scenes later on. And the out-of-town aspect fit in well, too. There would
be no, "Let's start an affair!" crap. No crimping on her time, either.
She'd be as free as a bird. With the chances of running into some lunatic
very remote, if not damn near impossible.
The more Susie thought about it, the more she liked the idea. If she
played it correctly, choosing only from outside the state, she saw the
possibility of ending up with her own personal stable of horny, dick-hard
studs who would, while sexually agitated for sure, call her up from time to
time to say they were in town and would just love her company. "Let's do
(pant, pant) lunch. (pant, pant) I'm in room 1213 (pant, pant) at the
Ramada (pant, pant) on 38th."
Oh, yeah, and they'd be more than hot to trot and glad to see her when
she crossed their hotel room's doorway. They'd be slobbering up a storm
just thinking about getting between mamma's thighs. No fucking sofa blobs
here. And any potential blob that dared to pop up could be eliminated in a
New York second.
All she had to make sure of was that no ever had her real home
address or home phone number. She'd give them a false name and a work
phone number that only she would answer. Because she had her own private
phone line at work (thank you, boss!) it would be easy to assign one of the
three extensions, that she never used anyway, to her new name.
That's when the delicious idea of calling herself Susie Cream Cheese
came to life. It would telegraph to each that all she was interested
in was a fucking and not a long-term romance. If they thought her to be a
downright slut, well, fuck 'em! Who cared? No one else would know but
these and herself. Could it, she thought, be any better than this?
Yeah, but only if a place existed where she could order up a large-size
cock with a big balls topping the way you do a pizza.
Thus emerged Susie Cream Cheese, the EZ to spread girl. With a
sure-fire plan that she knew could be honed to an exquisitely fine art.
Thus, with this plan burning up her brain, she quickly added a new file to
her computer. Not for phone numbers and addresses, but for men's' names
and a limited smattering of personal data.
A brief physical description, their sexual preferences and even cock
size would also be noted. In her own code, of course. Based on the ABC's,
similar to the code she used for dress orders. Anyone stumbling across the
file, which was named, simply enough, Buyer Meetings, would surmise it was
just that, business shit--not even worth a second glance.
A = Anal. B = Blowjob. C = Cunnilingus. D = Dick size. There was no
point in encoding Fucking with an F as they would all surely do that to
her.
However, as time went on, she did add M = Missionary, DS = Doggy Style,
and MOT = Me On Top. All three positions would simply be coded as ALL.
And at one point, she also added HC for Heavy Cummer. Thus, a typical
entry might be:
Tom, 6.1, Arizona, Hilton (34th), B, C, D7," ALL, HC. 4x.
The 4x, of course, meant they had gotten together four times. And, when
a guy called on her extension, she would simply whisper, breathlessly,
"Susie Cream Cheese, how may I help you?" Giggling thrown in for good
measure. At the same time she'd pull up the Buyer Meetings file on her
PC's screen as a memory refresher--if it was at all necessary.
Although, at this point, she was eager and ready to try her ideas out
and even knew the hotel bar she planned to start with, The Kensington, she
was in no hurry. There were other aspects to consider first. And to plan
out. So, when she got home to her cozy little apartment that night, she
poured herself a gin and tonic and pulled out a pad and a Bic. And
outlined her game plan . . .
Hotel Bars: Here she made a list of the six she all ready knew about.
More were sure to be added later. She also made a note telling herself not
to hit the same bar twice in any two-week period as bartenders pick up on
shit.
Sit on stool at bar and wait. And, if he as no appeal to me? Simple --
Tell him I'm on my way to a business meeting, pay up and go to the second
choice. She liked that; it gave her even more control over the situation.
She could pick and choose at will.
If appealing to me and not inebriated, find out quickly --
1. Is he staying at this hotel and on business? If not, split.
2. Is he from out of town? If not, split.
3. Size his demeanor up. Happy-go-lucky or sad? Horny innuendos?
Eager to be manipulated sexually? Can he take a sexual hint?
How do I get him to take me to his room? Perhaps -- "I've never stayed
at this hotel before. Are the rooms nice? The view? Of the city?" Corny,
but if he's at all quick-witted, it should do the trick.
And because I do, darling self, want to suck him off and have him unload
in my mouth first -- I need a plan! Susie thought for a while and then hit
on one.
She'd wear a Kotex pad! After the usual preliminary kissing and
fondling, with him all worked to a lather from her playing with his cock
through his trousers, he'd discover the pad soon enough.
Oh, he'd be disappointed at first, but she could handle that by telling
him it was her last day and it would be coming off soon. Give him a light
at the end of the tunnel. But, in the meantime, she didn't want him to
suffer from blue balls, so some line, such as, "I'm sorry I got you so
worked up, but what if I made love to you?" should work.
In case he was truly slow on the uptake, she'd punch home the message by
kneeling down in front of him and unzipping his fly. Bold, but who cares?
He would know in a second that he had a slut on his hands, but what guy
would argue the point and say, "Hey, lady, if you think I'm going to let
you suck my cock before we fuck, you've got another guess coming! Get off
your knees and never darken my doorstep again!" Yeah, right! When piglets
are born covered with feathers and owls are used for their bacon strips.
Susie even planned out the best day of the week. Friday, always on a
Friday. This way, the guy willing of course, she could spend the night.
And all of Saturday, too--if she chose. She could leave him on Sunday
morning, right after a scrumptious hotel brunch in the room and a good
Sunday morning fucking and for home to take care of her personal
things.
This would cover the initial tryst. If the guy called later on and was
in town on a different day, well, she'd handle that on a case-by-case
basis. After all, it was all hers to control, wasn't it? You bet your ass
it was.
Because Friday was the following day, Susie poured herself another drink
and studied what she had written. She was looking for flaws, possible
problems, something that could screw her up. She wasn't worried about her
ability to think standing on her feet, but she liked to preplan, just in
case. You never know.
She saw nothing glaring, but what if a guy wanted her to spend a night,
any night, and she didn't feel like it? Well, that's easy to handle. She
could invent a boyfriend (even a husband!) and say she couldn't stay too
long as she was sure to be missed. "So, buddy, if you wanna fuck me over
the lunch hour, hop to it!" This phantom boyfriend could come, go, and even
change into someone else if the scenario called for it. He could even be
the jealous type, or not, according to her whims. Delicious!
What if the guy noticed that on the last time they met, her period was
on a different time of the month? Do ever notice that crap? She
didn't think so, but even if one rare bird did, she'd throw out the fact
that she had a "rolling period." She never knew when the damn thing would
hit. She liked that, too.
All that remained now was the doing. While she probed further for
snares and traps, she fixed a frozen dinner, watched a little TV, did her
toiletries, and went to bed. The excitement of it all, the immense sexual
possibilities, forced her to herself to sleep. Her orgasm was
stronger that night than any she could remember in recent months. Oh,
yeah, world, here comes the new Susie Cream Cheese! So spread the word as
you spread the girl.
While it would be a tour de force on my part to fill you in on what
Susie did sexually with each of the 1,500 men, it won't happen. Not
because she only filled me in on a handful of men, but for the good reason
that it would get tedious and very boring. So, if you will indulge me, I
will tell you what she told me and no more. And no less, either.
Friday evening found her sitting on a stool in The Kensington, a midtown
hotel bar, her Kotex firmly in place and looking as pretty as a picture.
Having had her shoulder-length brown hair stylishly coifed at a midtown
salon on her lunch hour, with a new manicure, new shoes and purse, she
looked dynamite. Add a pale yellow, breast-hugging, nipple-popping tucked into a sea green that displayed her shapely legs to their
best advantage and, brother, put that tongue back in your mouth before
someone trips over it.
She hadn't even sat there twenty minutes when a guy walked up and
offered to buy her next drink. In the blink of an eye, she sized him up.
Tall, nice looking, brownish-blond hair that was neatly trimmed, with a
snazzy brown business suit that matched his eyes exactly. He also looked
to be in his late thirties to early forties with broad shoulders that Susie
could easily her arms going around. In a nutshell, she found him
to be simply scrumptious. Scrumptious? Hell, she had to concentrate to
keep from salivating on the bar nuts.
She accepted his offer as she swung around in her chair slightly so as
to face him. Both of her cute little knees were now aimed directly at his
crotch.
He introduced himself as Bart, Bart Phillips, from Houston, Texas.
Susie picked up on the fact that he lacked the typical Texas accent.
"Hello, Bart, I'm Susie. But you don't sound like a Texan." She looked
up at him with a sham look of suspicion on her face and one eye cocked. He
chuckled, still standing and not moving into the stool next to her. He
moved toward her slightly until he was just inches away from her knees.
"Hi, Susie, it's nice meeting you." He shook her offered hand gently.
"And no, I wasn't born in Texas. My work put me there. I was born in
Canada. Ontario, to be precise." He moved a tad closer to her. His upper
right leg was now lightly brushing against her right knee. She could feel
the human electricity from his touch and he was now close enough for her to
smell his cologne. Light and nice. There was nothing heavy-handed about
this guy.
Bart took the adjacent stool and moved it slightly toward her so that,
as they chatted away, both his knees now slightly touched both of hers.
Fully and with no pretense that might mean "Oops! Sorry, didn't know what
I was doing." This knew exactly what he was doing. Susie knew that
fact, too.
They swapped a few lies with each other for a time and then Susie closed
in for the kill.
"I've never stayed at this hotel before, Bart, so tell me, are the rooms
nice and do you have a good view of the city?" The door was now open wide
and it was up to him to come on in. Now, the way she'd said it and the
look she had on her face when she'd said it, coupled with an obvious
forward knee pressure from her to him, simply screamed out, "Take me to
your room, you hunky fuck, and fuck the living shit out of me before I go
crazy and start humping your legs!"
Well, he not only read the signs, he parried them.
"Well, Susie, that's hard for me to say as I haven't taken the time to
notice yet. How about you coming up to my room and we can check it out
together?" He smiled which left no doubt that he had her number. And, from
the slight bulge in his trousers, she had his number, too.
"I'd like that, Bart. Let's pay up and you can lead the way. OK?" At
times, the Let's-Fuck-Like-Rabbits-In-Heat mating dance is no more
complicated than that. And the only way it could have been any easier was
if she had a sign on her that said, "I fuck!" and he had one that said,
"Me, too!"
"OK." was all he said. No more was necessary. Not for a Canadian.
They were hardly into the room when he locked the door and pulled her to
him and kissed her. And not a kiss like one from your grannie, either.
His tongue was all over the inside of her mouth and it was as hot as a
tongue can get. She tongue-dueled him back and felt his hands go to both
of her ass cheeks, squeezing, kneading, spreading the cheeks apart and
pressing them together again. His hands were all over her ass as if he had
done this with her a hundred times before.
He was on fire. As was Susie. Their kisses were just steaming along.
Sloppy wet and hot as blazes. His right hand moved off her ass to go and
fondle her left breast. She moaned and reached down to fondle his cock
through the suit material. It felt as hard as nails as it throbbed in her
grasping hand.
She felt the hand still on her ass going under the and
working its way around to her front. Then fingers were finding their way
into her looking for her lips. The fingers were rough but
with gentle overtones. She moaned again, squeezing his cock for emphasis.
Then, Bam! The Kotex firewall made itself known to him. The predicted
moment had arrived.
She breathlessly gave him her little song and dance "period" piece and
fell to her knees in front of him. He signaled it was jake with him by
putting a hand on each of her shoulders as she unzipped his fly.
She looked up at him and the look on his face was hard to read. He was
smiling. A smile that could easily have said, "Go ahead, girl, I know
you're one of those women who likes to suck a guy off first." But Susie
didn't care. She was going to get to suck his cock and have it shoot in
her mouth and that was the plan after all. Wasn't it?
She had initially thought of just taking his dick out and working on it,
but now decided that she wanted to see more of him. She wanted to see his
crotch hair and his strong, tanned legs.
She undid his belt, opened the top button, hooked her fingers in his
underpants and trousers simultaneously and in one tug pulled them down to
his ankles. He reacted by tossing his tie over one shoulder and rolling up
the bottom of his shirt. He now stood in front of her naked from his belly
button down to his socks. The sight of his large balls and hairy crotch
with his very hard 8" erection sticking straight out into space made her
feel swoony and quite giddy. She knew she was gonna love this. Oh, yeah,
the plan was cooking along on all burners.
I remember the day I first met Susie Wills, but not too many of the
minor details. It was at a cocktail party some chichi couple threw for
sixty or more people. Their midtown duplex apartment was crammed with the
artsy advertising world types. Art Directors, copywriters, Account
Executives, PR folk, and so on. I came as one of the art directors because
it was my chosen profession and, as such, I had a duty to attend every
cocktail party I could get an invitation to. A self-imposed duty, to be
sure, but a duty nonetheless. I took duty seriously.
I wasn't there ten minutes when I spotted Susie. Now, I always had my
share of seeing as how I worked with models day in and day out and
they would throw themselves at me to get into a commercial of one kind or
another. I never used my position to sway them into bed with promises of
this role or that. I didn't have to.
On the contrary. I would tell them that I offered them nothing, no
guarantees of a job, so if they chose to do me they shouldn't expect any
favors. They liked the honesty so much they did me anyway. Many of them
more than once. I was sorta cute looking in my way. Irresistible? Not at
all. In fact, I was turned down eight times out of ten. Or, because I
prefer to look at the glass as half full, I scored two times out of ten.
That sounds better, doesn't it? Does to me.
Anyway, there I was, giving Susie the once-over. She was in her early
forties at the time, as was I, and she looked simply delicious. She'd
outgrown the mini-skirts and had a skirt on that came to just an inch or so
above her knees. She had on very little makeup, just enough to enhance,
and she looked, what's the word? Oh, yeah, natural. Just like the next door, whoever the fuck she is.
The pale purple blouse she wore told me that this lady wasn't wearing a
bra tonight. Those nipples! They poked through that sheer fabric and
aimed their twin guns right at me and, I swear, I almost ducked in
self-defense.
As I said, I was getting my fair share of ass; some raving beauties,
too, and it took a bit more than looks to get me aroused. Guess I was
jaded. But looking Susie up and down did it in spades. I felt a bone come
on so quickly it shocked the shit out of me.
Looking back I realize it wasn't because she was a sexpot, far from it,
it was how feminine she seemed. Womanly, if you get the picture. Like
Mother Earth, or the Earth Mother. Take your pick. She was woman
personified, squared.
Well, I wangled a chat out of her and before long we were chummy as to
old friends, or lovers, if you will. We had chemistry. And our joint
chemistry came together and the catalyst was, "We're both over-sexed
fuckers who can't get enough of the horizontal tango!" And, believe or not,
not one word was even mentioned about sex, or even love. It just hung over
us like a cloud.
After an hour and a half or so of melding, I asked if I could take her
home. She said sure, she'd like that. So, we got into a cab and I gave
the guy my home address, a fact she picked right up on.
"Art, I thought you said you were taking me home. I live at . . . "
I squeezed her knee as if to shush her and looked deep into her eyes. I
mustered up the cutest, most innocent face I could manage. Shit, standing
alongside me, a cherub would have looked like Charles Manson.
"I didn't say whose home, now did I?" I chuckled, squeezing the knee a
bit for accent. "So, Sue, unless you have a or to feed, shut up
darlin' and behave yourself and enjoy the ride." She grinned at me. Then
she squeezed the hand I had on her knee and spoke.
"No cat, no dog, and fuck the damn goldfish!" That said, she reached out
and pulled my head toward hers and planted a kiss on me. One of those
kisses that says, "You just got lucky!" And I did. Did I ever.
In my apartment, the first thing she said was, "You have a cat!"
"I do? Where?" I looked around the room.
"Right there, on the couch." She sounded puzzled.
"Oh, him! I keep forgetting he's here as I've only had him fifteen
years."
She laughed. "Schmuck! What's its name?"
"Sam doesn't like strangers to know his name. If you can pet him and he
doesn't rip your arm off, that means it's okay for me to tell you his name.
Go pet him and we'll see." She shot me a glance reserved for lunatics.
Then she went over to Sam, knelt down, and started rubbing his big head. I could hear him purring from across the room. She said to him, "Hi,
Sam, now what's your name?" I laughed.
"Hey!" I said. "He likes you! You like him, Susie?"
"Yeah, he's beautiful. What's not to like?" Sam was beautiful. Sleeky
black with evenly matched white on all four paws and a wide
streak of white down the center of his head. At almost three feet in
length from his nose to the base of his tail, he was also quite impressive.
"Good. Take him, he's yours now."
"Huh?"
"Damn hasn't paid a dime toward the rent since he's been here. He's
a natural-born freeloader, that one. Oh, wait a sec, I just thought of a
reason why you can't have him, as much as I know you'd like to."
"Not that I would want him, but why not?" We were having fun.
"Well, I shouldn't say this in front of him, but . . . Sam? . . . He's
gay!"
She busted out laughing. "Well, honey, one night with me and Sam
will get converted!" She had picked his head up and was staring into his
eyes with no more than an inch or so between them. "Right, Sam?" Sam just
purred away very noncommittal like.
"I love it," I said, "when a woman knows her power over the male
species, but don't get too excited, Sue, just because you got him purring
his male heart out. Sam would purr if a buffalo shit on his head." I
let the imagery hang in the air, but immediately regretted having compared
her touch to buffalo crap. She looked slightly pained. Sometimes funny
can be very unfunny.
"Sorry," I said, trying to recover from my minor barb. "What I meant
was . . . "
"No sweat, darling, you were just on a humor roll and it went rancid.
But now, you do have to pay a small forfeit." She grinned, looking quite
evil and mischievous.
"And that would be?" She stood up, walked over to me, and whispered in
my ear. "I don't want Sam to hear this as he might get jealous, but I want
to suck your cock and have you in my mouth before we fuck. OK?" Her
hot breath had given my left ear a hardon. I pulled back from her a step
and looked into both her eyes. She looked beautiful.
"Woman, you're brutal! But fair is fair. However, I hope you'll let me
feed Sam first before you lead me to the slaughter." I tried to look
pleadingly at her. All she did, as an answer, was to smile and nod her
head slightly.
Then she turned toward Sam and said, "While you're eating, Sam, you
don't mind if I eat your master, do you?" Sam blinked. Susie took it as a
sure sign of agreement. "See, it's OK with him!" She giggled and lightly
ran a hand over my crotch area, bumping my erection in the process and
sending a lightning bolt through my ass cheeks.
It wasn't too much later that I was sitting on the edge of my bed with
her kneeling on the floor in front of me. The weird thing was we were both
naked but hadn't even kissed since leaving Sam in the living room. We had
entered the bedroom, stripped down, and then she had led me to the edge of
the bed and shoved me down on it, knelt and started me off. Weird,
but nice in its own way.
Now, I didn't know at the time about her vast experiences, but I
certainly could tell it wasn't her first time. She'd work on the cock head
a bit and then swoop down to my balls, moaning here and there. It goes
without saying that her lips felt unbelievably good.
"You ever do a saliva suck?" I asked. I just love to teach and direct.
She took her mouth from my cock, looked up at me and said, "What's
that?"
"Well, as you know, as you go up and down your saliva builds up. So you
back off a bit and it. With a saliva suck you don't. You just let
it flow out all around my cock and down onto my balls. My cock and your
lips get all sticky like and pretty soon you won't know where my cock
begins and your lips leave off. It's a cock-mouth connection sort of
thing. Zen like, almost." She smiled, nodded and went back to my dick.
A few moments later her saliva was cascading down my cock shaft. It had
a strong effect on her and she was moaning something fierce. The saliva
just kept on coming. Then she pulled her mouth from my cock, saliva
strings following along, and said, "I love it! It feels . . . sexy." I
smiled at her. She asked, "Any other advice, guru?"
"Yes. If you like the taste of . . . " She nodded. "Well, because
we don't want the to be cut with too much saliva, I'll tell you when
I'm about to unload. That's the time to your saliva so you get the
full taste. Capish?" She nodded and laughed.
"Art, you sound like a fuckin' chef!" I laughed and said, "Well,
darling, the proof is in the eating."
"Yum, yum!" she said as she placed her mouth back on my cock. Then she
really gave it a workout. As she salivated throughout, she would suck the
cock head with lips, mouth, and tongue, varying the pressure from gentle to
mild to wow! Then she would slowly deep-throat me, moaning away as she
did. All pretenses between us were gone now. I knew she loved cock
and she knew I knew she did. Total freedom had set in between us.
After a few minutes of her exquisite torture I stood up and took her
head in both hands. I slowly started mouth-fucking her, going in halfway
here and there and full depth now and then. We had a fantastic rhythm
going and we were both totally lost in the act. As I looked down at her,
my dick going in and out of her mouth, I saw the most beautiful face in the
world. Then I felt it . . .
"Now, baby, your saliva!" I pulled back until only my cock head
was in her mouth and heard her audibly gulp saliva down just seconds before
my dam burst. "Oh, baby, oh, baby." I said over and over as she moaned on
my dick. And she moaned, too, "Mmm Hmmm." Over and over as I spurted and
spurted into her hot, beautiful mouth. When I was drained she
vacuum-sucked me for a few minutes, following along as I sat back onto the
edge of the bed.
She removed her mouth from me and looked up. As she did, I noticed some
cum had escaped past her lips. She licked it away and said, grinning from
ear to ear, "Betcha Sam can't do that!" I laughed and said, "You're right,
but I didn't hear you purr, either!" She giggled.
She looked so cute I moved my head forward and down and kissed her. Her
mouth was super-soft from the and tasted of hot saliva and cum. As
we kissed, she moaned into my mouth. I let the feeling overtake me and
moaned back. The kiss had me feeling as if I was losing myself into her,
being swallowed whole by her wonderful mouth. My head felt giddy and I
felt a twinge of fear come over me as if I was about to fall in love and
would be exposed and vulnerable to all of love's insane bullshit.
She quickly put an end to that romantic nonsense.
"Art, we're good together, so good it's scary, but I want us to start
out on an honest footing. I'm not looking for love, except the naked kind.
I love to suck and fuck, but I don't want any complications in my life.
Not now . . . or ever." She left it just like that, the "or ever" hanging
out as plain as day. It was my turn.
"Darling, that's fine by me. Shit, I've been five times and I
sure don't want a sixth, no matter how much I all ready love and adore you.
OK?"
"Five times?" Funny how they pick up on that first thing.
"Yeah. I marry 'em all! That way I don't have to keep asking them for
dates." I laughed a good one at my own wit. She laughed heartily, too.
Well, the ground rules were now established and, yes, we fucked that
night and it was great. But I'll save the details for later. We became
part-time lovers, but more importantly, great friends. We trusted each
other and became confidantes. That's how I learned all about her. And her
Susie Cream Cheese persona. Little by little, over time, it all came out.
And, the more I knew about her, the sexier I found her to be. I'd ask for
every juicy detail, living vicariously through her, and she didn't hesitate
to fill me in. It was wacky and nutty, but very fantastic.
Once, after a good meal, prepared by either of us, as we both were quite
good at the culinary arts, and over a glass of wine, I would ask my
prurient questions. The following is merely a smattering of such
conversations. At some point I started to feel like a lecherous reporter
for Hustler magazine.
"How many did you end up with?" I trembled as I asked that question.
"Well, in the end, over 1,500. 1,558 if you demand accuracy!" I did, as
if it mattered.
"Jesus!" I said, my eyes wide open. "Even if they came into town just
once a year, that's four or five a day! How'd you manage it?" I was
mind-boggled.
"No, hon, it didn't go that way. I discovered early on that two-thirds
or so never called back for a second taste of the cream Cheese. Probably
too much guilt . . . and/or they just didn't want to take the chance that
it might get too complicated for them. You know, fuck up their
well-ordered lives." She grinned at me. "It sure as shit wasn't because
they found me sexually boring!" She laughed. I laughed with her. She was
right about that.
"Tell me," I asked. "How did it usually go?"
"Well, after three years or so, I had so many calling when they were
in town that I stopped going to the hotel bars altogether. This would go
on for a while and then taper off as started feeling the guilts from
cheating on the little woman back in Paducah. Then I would resume the
hotel bar outings until it picked up again. So, it would go like that,
fluctuating between feast and famine."
"Tell me, Sue, what's your favorite kind of cock?" She thought a bit.
"Well, one between 7" and 8" with a nice head. The kind of head that
stands out from the shaft a whole lot. I like a ridge that changes the
shape of my lips as I bump back and forth over it. I adds to my pleasure."
"You ever have a cock head swell up just before it came?"
"Oh, yeah. I like that, too. Doesn't happen often enough to suit me.
Maybe in a quarter of the guys, maybe less than that. I like the way it
adds to the pleasure of my thumb counting."
"Thumb counting?"
"Yeah. I keep my thumb on the base's underside and I can feel his pass under my thumb. I count the spurts. Most four or five
times. Some guys, the heavy cummers, seven or more times. This one
guy, Manny from Philly, spurts ten or eleven times. I once held it all in
my mouth, without swallowing, and spit it into a paper cup. He almost
filled the damned thing up! He holds the record, so far." I could see how
he would. She went on.
"The three actions, you know, the traveling under my thumb, the head
swelling up, and the first all happen within seconds, but it's so
pleasurable I usually right after the second spurt. As he's cumming,
I'm cumming, and it's just euphoric." She put her arms around herself,
closed her eyes and moaned. "Mmm Hmm!"
"And you like to keep your eyes open, right?"
"Oh, yeah, to be sure. I love looking at their pubic hair. And the
cock as it disappears into my mouth. Very pleasurable. I sometimes close
my eyes when I'm cumming, but I open them as soon as I can so I don't miss
anything. Sometimes I can actually see his balls rising up just before he
cums. Delicious!"
"Fill me in, Sue, on that guy from, where was it? Texas? Arizona? The
guy with the biggest schlong you'd ever seen." God, I sounded like a
prick-hungry fag who can't get enough cock descriptions!
"Big Bill. From New Mexico. Fucker had 14" and as big around as my
wrist." She held her arm up. "And he knew how to use it, too. He would
fuck me for hour upon hour. His record with me was six times in four
hours. Of course, he was too wide for me to deep-throat, but that didn't
seem to bother him much." She paused and took a sip of wine. "And, man,
could he cum! In quarts. He came so much I usually had to three
or four times. Unbelievable. And, if he came in my pussy, well, I'd be
dripping out all the way to the john and back. Like Manny. From Philly."
I nodded.
I asked, "Did you ever get double-clutched, you know, two at once?"
"Yeah, but just with two particular guys. This guy Teddy called me and
said he was at the blah, blah, hotel in room, blah, blah and would I join
him? I said sure and then he said, 'Would you mind if a friend of mine
joined us?' I didn't even hesitate. All I said was the more the merrier.
Well, I had me a ball that lunch hour." She grinned.
"What happened?" I asked, trying to stop from drooling into my glass of
wine.
"Well, once I was in the room, Teddy introduced the guy to me as Ken.
Then, without another word, they were both all over me, feeling me up, my
ass, my tits, going under my skirt and grabbing my puss-puss, like two
horny lechers." She closed her eyes as if remembering. "Mmm mmm, it was
nice. Two hot and four hands working me over. My was dripping
like Niagara Falls! Ooowee!" She shivered.
She opened her eyes, sipped some more and continued her story. As she
spoke I realized she sounded just like something out of a book.
"Well, they stripped me and got naked, too. Then Ken pushed me to my
knees and looked down at me and said: 'You like cock, Susie?' I
looked up at him and said I just loved cock.
"Then Ken said, 'Ted tells me you like to first, is that
so?' I said it was. Ken then said something like, 'Good! Now do us both
at the same time and we'll give you two nice loads. Then we're going to
fuck you until you say uncle. OK?' I said it was OK with me.
"So, I them both off, going back and forth from one dick to the
other. They were both so hot it took less than five minutes to get them to
blow off. Ken came first and he was no sooner out of me than Ted put it in
and came. It was all I could do to it all."
"Tell me," I asked. "What did it feel like to suck two dicks at once?"
"It felt fabulous. The taste of their dicks, the smell of their balls,
it was heavenly. I came over and over as I them off. I was so
fucking hot that if one of them had said, 'There are a dozen other in
the next room who also want a blowjob, Susie.' I would have said, 'Only
twelve?' I swear!" She told me that Ted and Ken usually came into town
about twice a year and they would do their threesome. A fourth was never
added to the equation.
I had had enough. My dick couldn't take any more. I told her to get
her sweet ass around the table and suck my cock for all it was worth. She
complied and in minutes I flooded her golden mouth with my juice. To me,
it's the only proper way to wrap up a gourmet dinner.
On another occasion, Susie filled me in on her gang-bang episode. I
felt as if she was feeding the tales out to me as she thought the moment to
be right. Shit, the moment, as far as I was concerned, was always right.
But I never raised the issue with her.
Seems this guy Mark, from somewhere, I forget where, came into town and
established that they would spend the weekend together, as they had many
times before. Over dinner he popped out a proposal. And not one of
marriage, either.
"Susie, you love to suck and fuck like no other woman I've ever met.
So, tell me, out of curiosity, how many do you think you could fuck,
one after the other, in one session?" He let the question just float around
on its own.
"I don't know." Susie said.
"Six? Seven?"
"Yeah, probably. Why?" He answered the question with another question.
"How about twelve? You think you could suck off and fuck twelve guys?"
He looked absolutely insane, his lips looked parched and he kept running
his tongue over them. Susie thought some.
"Twelve guys? Woo! That's a lot of guys. But I guess . . . yeah, I
could manage it, if I wanted to, that is. Why? You got twelve in
mind, Mark?"
He licked his dry lips. "Uh . . . actually . . . I do. in my
fly fishing club. They're all going upstate to one of the guy's cabin this
weekend. I couldn't help but tell them how fantastic you were, forgive me,
too much wine at the time, and they were just jumping up and down at the
telling."
He looked at her face and when he didn't see any revulsion there he went
on. "Well, this guy Charlie, you'd like him, Sue, he's real sweet, well,
he asked me to prove you exist at all. Guy shit, you know? To prove it, I
have to get you to come to the cabin and do all of them. Now, if you do,
they said they'd believe all my fishing yarns from here on out. And, if
you do I will be . . . "
"I'll do it, Mark. It sounds like fun." Just like that. That Mark was
slightly flabbergasted is a given, I imagine.
So, there she was, as naked as Eve, on her knees, with twelve equally
naked Adams forming a circle around her. She went from dick to dick around
the circle, and sucking. And, because she had established the
rules from the gitgo, each guy came in her mouth. Twelve of salty,
acidic-tasting cum. And she told me she loved each and every drop.
Then the first guy who had took her into the bedroom and fucked her.
The rest of the men, in no set order, followed him. While the rest played
penny ante poker, the guy whose turn it was would enter the room and make
love to her in his own special way and manner. It ran the gamut from
tender to gentle to rough and to everything in between. That took care of
Friday night.
Saturday's escapades started right after breakfast. Three at a
time went at her. One in her ass, one in her pussy, and one in her mouth.
This was all done on the bed with the rest of the standing there
watching and playing with themselves.
They did Susie all day Saturday and all day Sunday, all the way to
midnight of each day. It was a fuckathon marathon. They let her nap
whenever she wanted to and when she awoke it was to a wall of hot-ass
erections. She sucked. She fucked. She had hundreds of orgasms. The each had four and five a day themselves. In her mouth, her pussy, her ass.
Cum City.
As much as she had enjoyed herself, she informed poor Mark that it
wasn't going to happen again. He protested, but her mind was made up. It
was just too fucking much in her mind.
Right after Susie told me this scenario, I ate her out for twenty
minutes or so, then we sixty-nined and then we fucked like two lunatic
bunnies. As I ate her and fucked her I couldn't help but her with
the twelve men. What a scene! Lordy, how I wished I had it on film.
As we laid in bed afterwards, my arms around her, I decided it was time
to introduce her to my penchant for mouth pissing. Most folks think it's
sick, but I ain't like most folks.
"Susie, tell me, did any of your dates ever want to in your mouth?"
Lay it out, flat and simple.
"Yeah, a few guys. I told them no and that I thought it was sick. Why?
You into that sort of weird thing?"
"Yes. All five of my wives were, too. I pissed in all their mouths.
They loved it, too. Three of them even told me it was as if I was coming
the world's biggest load." I waited for her response.
"Really? But what about the taste? Ugh! And fucking yucky! Didn't
they all say it tasted like . . . well . . . piss?"
I squeezed her to me. "Well, my dear, like Scotch, it's an acquired
taste, but there are tricks one can do to fool the taste buds somewhat.
Like gargling with Listerine beforehand. Or eating a piece of pickle. It
doesn't totally get rid of the taste, but it makes it . . . let's say . .
. more palatable. Oh, and if I drink two or three beers before I piss, it
actually taste somewhat sweet. Must be the yeast in the beer, I guess." I
waited again, giving her another squeeze.
"Man, Arthur, you are one crazy fucker! I never know what you're going
to come up with next. But, you crazy fuck, you've made it sound almost
nice, so, fuck it, I'm game. I'll try it once and if I don't like it I
ain't doing it again. OK?"
"Bless you, my child. You are a gem. And, come to think of it, I gotta
piss right now! What say we retire to the bathroom, girl?" I felt her
head nod.
She knelt before me. In the tub, just in case. I pinched the base of
my dick to stop the flow. I looked down at her beautiful face and said,
"Now, I'll just let it a little at a time. At first. I'll do that
just twice because it will start to me if I keep pinching it off more
than that. You twice real quickly like. Then, when I'm going to
flood, start swallowing rapidly. You know, swallow, swallow, swallow. Got
that?" She nodded up at me. She looked petrified, but excited.
"OK," I said. "Now put your mouth on it and we'll do it." She complied
and her hot mouth was wonderful. The idea that I was about to now into it had me on cloud nine. Oh, you beautiful woman, you.
I uncorked the base and let out a spurt. I heard her swallow. I
repeated this and again heard her swallow. She had not complained. So
far, so good. But, it was starting to pain me now.
"You ready for my flood?" I asked quickly, impatient for the answer.
She made an "Mmm Hmm." on my limp, piss-filled penis. "Here we go." I
said.
Aaah, how good it felt to release the pinched off base. I just let it
loose and it was so fine. I looked down at her face as she swallowed and
swallowed to see if I could detect the usual wincing. It wasn't there.
She looked serene and peaceful. Then she lifted my heart right through the
roof. She moaned. A good moan. A moan of total enjoyment. She liked it!
And, as sure as shit, I liked her liking it.
When I had no more to give her, she surprised me because she just
kept on me. It felt so nice I was getting hard. I bent over, my
penis leaving her mouth, tilted her head up and kissed her. My tongue
shared the taste of with her as we moaned into each other's mouths. I
kept kissing her for a good five minutes before replacing my tongue with my
cock.
She me off and I came in her sweet mouth. "That, girl, is
what some folks call a cocktail with a chaser." She laughed and I
followed suit.
Over time, my in her mouth became a routine deal. Sometimes,
Susie would ask me if I had to go. I never failed to oblige the dear woman
who had the ability to constantly surprise me. And she sure surprised me
on one occasion when I happened to be at her apartment.
We had just finished a great meal and I was eager for a new of
hers. But she had something better in mind. She told me she had a surprise
for me and I was to wait a sec while she retrieved it. As I sat looking at
a Picasso print on her wall trying to figure out what he was all about, I
had no idea what to expect.
"Here!" she said as she approached me. It was a large photo album. I
put it on my lap, opened it up, and was floored. It was chock-full of
close-up pictures of men's cocks. Some in black and white, but most were
in dazzling skin color. And they were all polaroids.
At the bottom of each was a neatly typed label with the guy's
first name and a date. Charles, 11/2/79, Marty, 2/2/80, etc. Well blow me
down!
On the inside front cover was a printed label from the album
manufacturer. It said there were 100 pages in the album which meant 200
usable pages, if you used both the front and back. She had.
I went to the back of the album and saw that, as a guesstimate, she had
filled up around 60 pages or so. With nine pictures per page I
rough-calculated that she had over 1,000 cock shots. Each dick fully erect
and none out of focus. Susie knew her Polaroid photography very well, it
seemed.
Here and there, perhaps every other page, there were two pictures of the
same guy. One with just the guy's cock and one with Susie's mouth on his
cock. In each shot, she looked as if she had found heaven. A
heaven in which she had her eyes wide open as she stared at pubic hair.
Even her hands added to the heavenly mood. She had her thumb on the
underside of the base and her first two fingers gently on top. Her ring
finger and pinky were poised in the air, resting lightly against his belly,
as if daintily holding a very delicate wine glass.
Anyone, even the world's biggest dufus, would know just from looking
that here was a woman who not only loved giving head she was a virtuoso at
it. An adept artiste of the cocksucking kind. I was beyond amazed, I was
stupified.
As Susie refreshed our wine glasses, I perused page after page after
page. Cock, cock, cock, suck, cock, etcetera. No one, even the greatest
and most urologist, had ever seen such an assemblage of men's dicks
as the one I had in my hot little hands. Talk about a tour de force! It
was overwhelming.
I had always known that nature abhorred sameness and monotony, but I
never realized just how much until now. There were very few cocks that
looked alike. Even those that looked like a close match had their
differences. pubic hair versus black, veiny as opposed to smooth,
and so forth.
And the mix! There were long and short cocks and medium, too. Fat and
skinny ones. Those that curved up, or down, or even out to the side.
Large cock heads, small cock heads, and some that almost blended into the
shaft. Blunt cock heads, plum shaped ones, or mushroom shapes of all
stripes, and some so big they seemed alien by nature. Even the holes
were varied. Small holes, invisible holes, and some so large you could
have stuck a navel gem into them and had room to spare. Amazing.
It was, to totally understate it, some fucking collection. My little
Susie was undoubtedly the cockologist of the century and no doubt would
hold the title far into the next millennium. If anyone ever topped it,
that is.
Then a thought hit me. I felt left out! Ignored even. A tad jealous,
maybe. I felt if anyone's pecker belonged in her treasure trove of boners,
it was mine. Why hadn't she asked if she could Polaroid my cute and cuddly
woody? I looked over at her. I was hurt.
"Why haven't you taken a of my little petunia, sweetie?"
She reached behind her chair and brought forth a and said,
singsong like, "Smile, you're on Candid Camera!" I laughed. She had
anticipated me so easily I felt as open as the album I had on my lap.
"Now?" was all I could think of to say. Dufus.
"Why not? Get outta them clothes you pervert and let's start clicking!"
Well, she not only took some great shots of my dick and her on
it, but she honored me by making me the only one in the entire album to
have two whole pages, facing each other as a spread. And, if these things
matter, I was also the only one of the whose was photographed. In
two shots. One with my shooting through the air and going into her
open mouth and one showing her mouth open with her tongue all gooey from
the stuff. I was feeling proud.
Well, until I can remember more of her escapades, I'll leave you for
now. Suffice it to say that Susie still answered when one of her strolled into town. Many times, with little coaxing from me, she would
fill me in on all the juicy details. And her exotic tales were always
followed by a rousing game of slap and tickle.
Susie and I were lovers for five years or more before she succumbed to
breast cancer. Shit, I'm the smoker--not her. Not that cancer cares a
rat's ass.
She's been gone ten years now and I still miss her. A day can't go by
without me thinking about her. Her playful ways. And the smell of her.
Her wicked, deliciously evil smile. The sound of her laugh and even the
way she spoke. Christ, I can't remember how many mornings I'd wake up with
the smell of her hair in my nostrils.
I love you Susie Cream Cheese. From the bottom of my soul and more than
all of my five wives put together and beyond the moon. You ever decide to
come back and haunt me, woman, I'd love it and I might even believe in God
again.
And don't you worry none, hon. I used the spare housekey you gave me
and I cleaned up all traces of your erotic adventures, as I'm sure you
would have wanted me to. I didn't just erase your files, I removed the
hard drive altogether, busted it up good and tossed it into the East river.
I couldn't get to your office PC, but as you said those files had no
erotica of any kind on them. And your wonderland photo album? I didn't
have the heart to burn it, sweets. It resides under my bed in a drawer.
And, as you probably suspect, I take it out often and beat my meat while
looking at the pictures and thinking of you.
If I kick the bucket and someone stumbles on it, they'll merely think
I'm weird or gay, or both. But fuck 'em where they breathe, girl, for I
don't care a fig.
Writing all this, Susie dear, has me, ahem, in the mood. I think I'll
go and get me some pictures to drool over. Ta ta, darling.
End. Susie Cream Cheese: EZ to spread!
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