September 19, 2005
12th Creampie Story Here: Creampie Train
I boarded the late train from Kobenhaven to Amsterdam, and took my seat in the small, unairconditioned non-smoking room on the upper level. The night train was perfect, saving me both on the ticket and a hotel charge. I was also going to be able to enjoy the countryside. By morning we’d be past the bland Danish landscape and into a prettier but still bland German countryside. It was a trip I had taken a few times before and enjoyed, although the non-smoking area rarely held anyone else and the trip was lonely.
Just before the train departed, though, a girl came into the room and sat opposite me. She was perhaps 20, cute, with long jet black hair and dark complexion. Her clothes, cut-off shorts and tank top, were cheap but clean. She had that Eastern Europe feel. There wasn’t anything overt, but she exuded a smoldering sensuality. I mentally shrugged and attributed it to my constant horniness.
“Hello,” I said, trying to make a connection while she rooted around in her over-filled rucksack.
“Shpx lbh,” she said blandly. My mind raced… did I know this language?
“Do you speak Danish?” I asked. It was a good bet, traveling from Denmark as we were. She shook her head. “Dutch?”
…
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Filed by Creampie at 10:23 pm under Creampie Stories
“ROT13,” she stated, already bored with me.
“I’m sorry? What?” I could almost place the language, but…
She motioned for the pen and paper I had been using. Taking it from me, she wrote in neat penmanship, ROT13.
“Oh, ROT13,” I said suavely, as if I had just not heard but now I was on top of things.
“Qba’g npg nyy pbl. V’yy org lbh ner n shpxvat NBY arjovr jub unfa’g rira urneq bs EBG13. Lbh ner n hfryrff cvrpr bs fuvg naq genfu yvxr lbh vf jung unf ehvarq gur vagrearg. Lbh guvax gur jbeyq ortvaf naq raqf jvgu lbhe fghcvq jro oebjfre. V nz abg tbvat gb jnfgr zl gvzr gnyxvat gb n YHFRE yvxr lbh.”
Her words were strangely venomous, spit at me like I had done her a wrong.
“Look, I am sorry for whatever–”
“plonk” she said and turned away. Case closed in her mind.
I sat and stared at the girl. I had heard the word she said and understood immediately the finality of it. I searched my brain, clearing away cobwebs until I suddenly remembered what the word meant. My face turned red, stunned by her horrible dismissal of me.
I closed my eyes, thinking. “ROT13… ROT13…” What language was that? I used to know it, I was sure. I opened my eyes and looked at her again. I noticed then a tattoo above her breast that had been hidden by her tank top strap.
“BOFH” it said.
BOFH? BOFH! I snapped my fingers, bulbs going off in my mind. Of course! My mind had grown soft over the past few years, but I could remember some phrases. I formed a sentence in my mind, turning it over and over until I was sure I could say it correctly.
“V nz fbeel,” I began in ROT13. Her head turned and she stared at me. “V unira’g hfrq guvf ynathntr fvapr znal lrnef ntb ba nyg.flfnqzva.erpbirel. Cyrnfr sbetvir zr.” Slowly, a smile crept into her face until she beamed radiantly at me. What a complete turnaround!
“Lbh unir orra gb gung cynpr? Jura jnf guvf?” she babbled excitedly to me.
“Hz, 1990 V guvax. Orsber gur NBY vqvbgf vainqrq.” My speech was stilted, slow. But it was clear that she happy I was using her language.
She was still smiling, but her eyes began to water. She managed to sob and smile at the same time, buckets of tears falling like rain. I switched to the seat next to her and pulled her head to my shoulder as her body was wracked by heaving sobs.
“V unir sryg fb nybar sbe fb ybat,” she said in her strange ancient language. Slowly she stopped crying, and I dabbed her eyes with my sleeve. She laughed a little, calling me a kind old man. Old? Hmmm.
As often happens in emotional moments, her tears of joy gave in to an upswelling of sensuality. Looking up at me with her large brown eyes, she brought her lips to mine. It was a very sweet kiss, beginning with trembling need for connection and ending with a trembling need of a very different sort.
The train started rolling with a jolt, and she fell deeper into my arms. I looked at her, suddenly aware that I was kissing a total stranger, and a BOFH at that! Embarrassed, I crossed over to my own seat. She looked hurt.
/Don’t you like me?/ she asked. /Am I so ugly?/
/No,/ I replied, /you are pretty. I am just not used to kissing girls I have just met./
Her smile was sly. /Maybe you should become used to it./ We both laughed. /So, we have a long trip. What shall we talk about?/
I normally try to sleep at least a little on the train, but this night we talked. We spoke of her homeland, and how the culture was being changed by, as she put it, “Gubfr shpxvat nffrf jub bayl jnag gb yrnea AG Freire.” I agreed, feeling remorse at the loss myself of the old ways. We spoke of why she was traveling (boyfriend trouble), and why I was (business). We spoke of love and… eventually sex.
This was helped a great deal by the booze we were both carrying. Train alcohol tends to be too expensive, so I commonly carry a bottle or two of vodka or gin. She apparently felt the same way, but her tastes ran to whisky and grain alcohols like Everclear. We started drinking soon after the train pulled out of Kobenhaven.
After two hours, we were still well within Denmark. We were chatting happily, enjoying the fresh conversation, although it was sometimes hard for me to keep up in ROT13. I was watching her braid her hair into a kind of pigtail when we hit a bump and we both hopped off the seats and lost our balance. We got up, laughing.
/This is one reason I like trains,/ she said. Her eyes gleamed mischievously. I knew better than to inquire as to why, but couldn’t help myself.
/Why?/
/My boyfriend and I used to fuck on trains. In our homeland, every crossing is very rough, and I would sit in a skirt on his lap. No one knew he was in me. And every bounce felt so good./ Yeah, right, no one knew.
And so, our conversation turned to sex. If you live in the United States, you may find it hard to believe that strangers would talk about sex so openly. But here in Europe, it happens quite commonly, especially while drinking. We launched into our alcohol-assisted discussion and soon found ourselves talking quite openly about things that would make a hooker blush.
She expressed great interest in my love of eating creampies. She asked what would make an “apparently normal man want to eat cum.” It was something I had done many times before, and so I had my reasons ready:
a) I love eating pussies anyway
b) It was an act of acceptance; if she accepted my cum in her, shouldn’t I accept it back?
c) A recently fucked pussy was usually open and much juicier; if you love pussy juice, you should adore eating a creampie
d) It allowed me the freedom to cum first because I knew I would please her with my mouth afterwards
e) It was deliciously taboo… and I love kinky stuff
f) It allowed me more opportunities to join couples
g) My partners almost always had powerful orgasms, as if getting fucked were foreplay to great oral sex
h) What’s the big deal anyway?
She was impressed that I actually had thought so much about it. I told her that I had been forced to, since so many people–men and women–regarded it as deviant. If I wanted a partner, I would usually have to explain myself first. She seemed to accept my explanation.
/So, what is your favorite position for eating creampies?/ she asked next.
/Without a doubt, I like her to sit on my face,/ I replied. To her unasked followup, I explained, /the cumjuice drains out by itself, with gravity helping./ My mind wandered back to the most recent adventure, with a Danish couple. He steadied her as she squatted over my face and literally dripped into my mouth. sigh
She noticed my faraway expression and asked what I was remembering. I recounted for her many fun and creamy times. Being tied and creampied by my wife. Joining a Chicago couple for pizza and fun. Several adventures with my friend Mark and party girls.
She sat and got increasingly red-faced as I recounted so many stories. I saw her shifting in her seat. /You sound like quite the experienced man,/ she said. I wasn’t sure if it was a criticism or praise.
Taking a drink from her whisky, I shrugged and said, /It’s a hobby./ We both laughed.
/Excuse me,/ she said, abruptly, /I need to use the toilet./ She stood and went down the stairs to the restroom. The lavatories were only on the lower level. She returned 10 minutes later, even more redfaced than when she left.
/So, we were talking about…/ she began.
/I had just bored you with too many stories of creampies. I am sorry. I talk too much when I am drunk./
/No… you had just got me really turned on./ She smiled at me, and began to undo her pigtail braids. /So, you are American?/ She knew I was. What was up with the abrupt change in conversation.
/Yes, I am,/ trying not to sound like I was reminding her.
/So, you like your women to be shaved?/ Hmmmm, maybe this wasn’t a change in direction.
/Do you mean legs and underarms?/ I asked. I wanted to be sure before I made a fool of myself.
/Well, yes, but their ‘personal hair’ too./ She took a pull at my vodka, as if to gather courage.
/’Personal hair?’ You mean pubic hair?/ She nodded. /Yes, I suppose I do prefer that, but I also like natural women too. Not every woman is a porn star./
/So, this wouldn’t bother you?/ she asked. I saw as she spread her knees and pulled aside the crotch of her shorts. Her panties were gone! They had been there earlier–I check when I can.
Now they were gone… the bathroom, of course! I saw that the crotch of her shorts was soaked. But I could tell little else.
/I don’t know… I cannot see,/ I replied truthfully.
/Are you blind?/ she laughed. /Maybe your sense of touch is better as a result?/
I bounded across the aisle and sat next to her. I slipped my hand down to where hers was still holding her crotch open, then felt inside. Her pussy was indeed furry, a tangled nest of hair. Her pussy was also very wet, and getting wetter. I felt around a lot, not making any overt moves to feel her pussy per se, but I felt every bit of her hair. I was slipping my fingers over her lips to feel the fur there, when the train bounced over a crossing and my middle finger slipped between her lips and into a pool of steaming sap.
“BuZlTbq!” she exclaimed. Hurriedly, I yanked my hand out, thinking I had hurt her.
/Oh please,/ she pleaded softly, needfully, /it has been such a long time since a man has touched me there./
I put my hand back into her crotch, this time going directly for her honey pot. My index and ring finger pulled apart her lips while my index finger slid along the length–and depth–of her. She slid her hips forward so that she could spread her legs wider, then cupped my face and pulled me down to kiss her. I stroked her as we kissed, occasionally running my fingers through her long and thick pussy hair. I was becoming excited at the thought of eating this furry creature.
My hand was cramping being inserted awkwardly in her shorts. Her body language was telling me she was almost ready to cum, and I didn’t want to break the tempo by having her remove her shorts and the (possible) fight it would take to get her to do it. Instead, I pulled my hand out and then pressed the crotch of her shorts between her lips and ground harder to compensate.
She began to mutter short gasps of phrases in ROT13, like “Bu lrnu,” “Znxr zr phz,” and “Lbh ner n sernxvat nznmvat ybire… lbh fubhyq trg gb shpx rirel tvey va gur jbeyq!” Then, she arched her back as we kissed and came hard. Her shorts were soaked, but I figured ‘hell, they aren’t mine’.
I held her as she calmed down. She smiled at me. And pulled me into yet another kiss. I will admit that she was a great kisser.
As we kissed, the conductor made an announcement. “We will be shutting off the lights momentarily to help those who wish to sleep. Please use your reading lights and refrain from moving unnecessarily through the train.” I translated the message to the girl, amazed suddenly that I didn’t even know her name. /It is Lart,/ she said. I laughed, pleased to remember that LART was perfect for a BOFH girl… but she failed to see the humor.
The lights flipped off then, and immediately Lart’s hand was rubbing my crotch. I was afraid that my trousers would be stained when I got to Amsterdam. So, I unzipped them and pulled them down, which delighted Lart. We kissed for a while, my shorts getting increasingly moist as my dick emitted a steady stream of precum. Lart seemed to like the wetness, and slipped her finger in to cover it with precum. First she licked it, and a few minutes later fed some to me. When I didn’t hesitate, she gave a low moan.
/I am beginning to think I want you to cum in me and eat it out,/ she whispered, as if she feared reaction. /I think… I think you must love it and that I will too./
/I am sure you will,/ I smiled at her in the murky darkness. I unzipped her shorts, and pulled them down to her knees. Her breathing quickened as I made my way through her bush to find her clit and then her slit. Frustrated again, I pushed her shorts all the way off and pushed her legs apart.
Now, I got into creampie eating via my love of more normal cunnilingous. I gave her one last long lingering kiss, then smooched down to her love nest. She spread her legs very wide to give me access. It was fascinating to watch her face, sometimes lit by passing lights from outside, and sometimes in darkness, as I tongued her pussy. She closed her eyes, licking her lips, then opening her mouth in a silent moan. She tipped her head back, exposing her long lovely neck; I wish I could kiss two places at once! Then she snapped her head back and locked eyes with me. This cycle repeated itself for a long time, as I gently ate her now sopping wet pussy. Frequently the train would bump and she would squirt some juice into my adoring mouth.
/Oh, you must be inside me,/ she panted. /Put yourself in me./
/No, I want you to cum on my face,/ I replied. /Cum all over my face./
/Oh… I… I want to,/ she moaned. What was she waiting for? I decided to force her to cum. I spread her hairy lips far apart, exposing her clit. It was peeking out of its hood, coming out to play. I pushed gently at her hood, pushing it back to expose more clit. She let out a gasp. But she really gasped when I wrapped my lips around the pleasure bud and sucked it gently. When I rolled my tongue thick and flatly around and around, she began to cum.
It was apparent Lart feared being caught being eaten on the train. She wasn’t just quiet as she came: she was silent. She sucked in air and held it, gripping my hair hard and pushing my face away. Aggressively, I pushed myself back in and licked wetly at her while she came. Her gasp for air coincided with strong tremors and wracking spasms. Her pussy soaked my face with her nectar. I loved it!
As she calmed, she gently gripped my ears and pulled me up to a kiss. Her tongue probed me deeply, searching for her flavor. /My God that was sexy,/ she whispered to me. /I do not think you can do that better while searching for a creampie./
/I think you must try it…/ I smiled. /I want to taste you when you are completely filled with me and it is dripping out./
/I am not ready to cum again,/ she pouted. /Can you wait?/ What choice did I have. We kissed and made sweet words while she stroked me. It didn’t take long for her to regain her desire to cum, but it seemed like an eternity to me. Finally, she kissed me, and pulled my shorts off. /It is time for you to fuck me,/ she said.
She straddled my legs, and then lowered herself onto me. I fought the urge to cum immediately, as her tight youthful pussy settled slowly onto me. Facing me, she hugged me tight and sat still to get used to the pleasurable full feeling of having a man inside. Then she lifted on and off almost imperceptibly. The train soon hit a bump, and she timed a pump to coincide; I almost escaped before plunging immediately back in all the way.
/You like, yes?/ Lart asked.
/I like, YES!/ I answered.
The tiny movements were made worthwhile by contrasting the violent thrusts of the bumping train. She started to kiss me again… and began to use her pussy muscles to milk my cock. The next bump, she clamped down hard as I entered her.
And I lost it.
I think I spewed a gallon of cum into her, reaching into her depths with hot sticky cream. She held me as I came, gasping myself. I loved the feeling of hot sticky cum being ejected from my cock. There is a pleasure of feeling it actually flowing through me, notifying me that I am alive and cumming. I waited for the surges to stop and for my throbbing cock to being to shrink. I could feel that she was sloppy and that it would be a very creamy pie.
Instead of feeling drained and sleeping from the “post orgasm blues,” I felt energized at the thought of cleaning the pussy of this young woman who I barely knew. Her eyes were large as I pushed her up so that she was standing, then slid to the floor beneath her. /Ohhhhhhhhhh,/ was all she could manage as I pulled her sloppy cunt to my mouth.
I love a bald pussy because it is so easy to clean without gagging on a stray hair. But Lart’s cum-splashed pussy hair surrounded me, retaining more of the musky smell of a woman in heat. The warmth we had generated seemed to cling to her as I sank into her furry depths.
Even though her pussy was young and tight, the recent fucking had left it open. In addition, her bent leg position opened her further, and she was flowing. I heard a strange low moan, buzzing about me. It took a minute for my vodka-drenched brain to register that it was me who was moaning! It was like I was unconsciously moaning a tune as I buried my tongue to scoop out our comingled love juices.
For her part, Lart was muttering /Ohmygod/ over and over again. She shook and trembled every now and then as I touched some especially good part of her. Slowly, she sank lower and lower, rubbing her pussy on my face harder and harder. Soon, my head was pressed against the seat. She reached down and took off my glasses. Then, muttering words muffled by her thighs, she began to really grind on my mouth.
Her wet pussy enveloped me, becoming my world as I voraciously ate her. My senses were filled with Lart’s dripping hole… dripping our juice. She found that she could rub her clit against my lips as they covered my teeth. All hell broke loose! She frigged herself on my lips until she came, releasing a large amount of my cum and her juice over my page.
Forget about my pants being stained; my shirt was soaked in love juices.
Lart stepped off me and almost fell onto what had been my seat. I looked at her until her eyes focused and she looked at me. We were apparently in a pastoral area, because the lights were far less frequent.
/I did not believe you, but I became so horny when you began to eat me,/ she said. She leaned forward, seeing that my shirt was wet, and apologizing.
/Do not be silly,/ I told her. /I’d do it all over again, and again, and again./
She laughed. /Yes?/ She looked at her watch. /How about in ten minutes?/
Copyright © 2002 by Creampie Eater