Drunken double cream pie
Just after I graduated in my first proper job I got invited to a charity gala by one of our clients. No one else from the office could be bothered to go but it was free drinks so I was keen to go. I wore a floor length tight dark navy blue satin dress with a thigh split and Hold up stockings with heels. No Bra, no panties which drove my BF at the time nuts, as partners were not invited.
The gala hummed with sophistication at first—handshakes, hollow laughs, a violinist. But four free Drinks in, and sophistication Shattered. Guys kept giving me tequila shots while I sipped champagne which was fizzing straight to my clit. By the witching hour, I was obliterated—cackling at whispers and dancing, the dress's slit winking those hold-ups at every turn. This tall good looking guy with silver-threaded hair and a gaze that met my eye. Early 40s, in a sexy dinner suit, He steadied me mid-stagger by the rooftop ledge, palm firm on my hip. "Easy, firecracker," he drawled, eyes devouring my cleavage, then dipping to my stockinged thigh. "That dress... it's begging to be ruined." I leaned in, glasses chiming, “I may let you if you want”
We went to the dance floor and his breath on my neck promising filth, my fingers tracing the steel in his trousers under the dim lights. We swayed too intimately, his hand slipping into the slit to knead my ass, lips brushing my ear: "These stockings—I'd tear them with my teeth while I tongue-fuck you senseless." Drenched, I rutted against him inhibitions totally gone. As they event drew to an end, he whispered “My apartments 5 minutes away” No arguments—I was his. The cab was agony, his fingers delving under my skirt, toying with the hold-up lace, dipping into my slick pussy lips. I stifled cries against his neck as he thumbed my clit, but we restrained the frenzy, teetering on release for what waited.
His apartment door slammed, and he claimed me against it—kissing, tongues warring, his hands shoving the bodice down. Breasts tumbled out, flushed and aching; he feasted, mouth sealing over a nipple, sucking with bruising force, teeth tugging until I keened. Skirt hiked, hold-ups peeled to mid-thigh, he sank to his knees, parting me wide. "Dripping slut," he praised, before his tongue lashed—broad strokes from hole to pearl, devouring me. Fingers joined, three thick digits scissoring deep, hooking my G-spot as I bucked, I shattered, gushing over his chin, thighs quivering as he lapped it clean.
Rising, he stripped—clothes flung —unveiling a great body, and that cock. A brutal eight inches, ridged I knelt in worship, dress a puddle of excess, throat opening to take him: sloppy, deep, gagging wetly as I swirled and stroked, his groans fuelling my fire. "Filthy mouth—choke on it," he commanded, hips pistoning until tears smeared my liner.
To the bedroom. He hurled me down, dress discarded, leaving me in hold-ups and heels. Teasing his length along my folds, he growled, "Beg." "Fuck me—split this cunt open," I gasped. He impaled me, a single, savage plunge stretching me to screams, walls gripping his girth. Rhythm merciless: hips colliding, balls smacking, my tits rebounding wildly. Sweat-sheathed, I locked ankles behind him—stockings silk on his skin—as he angled to grind my clit, coiling me tight. He flipped me prone, bum high, face buried in the pillows re entering with a slap, breasts dangling, his shaft vanishing into my slick pussy. Hair yanked, thumb breaching my ass as I convulsed, squirting arcs that soaked the duvet. He flipped me over again, missionary, his body pinning me. "Don't—cum in me," I slurred, booze haze my, palms shoving his chest. "Boyfriend' will know—pull out" His laugh "Too late, gorgeous. You're taking every drop." Protest melted to moan as he locked deep, cumming hard in me scalding pulses jetting into my pussy. I milked him through it, a climax ripping me apart around his flood.
The world spun, alcohol crashing like a wave. "Just... rest,” he said as we both fell asleep. I passed out sprawled on his bed, limbs akimbo, his cum leaking slow between my thighs, body limp in sated stupor. The hold-ups heels dangling off the edge, dead to the world.
I stirred to intrusion. A thick pressure spearing my pussy slick and insistent, jolting me from blackout. Panic flared as a rough palm clamped my mouth, muffling my startled yelp. Eyes flew open to shadows: It wasn’t Alex's frame above me, but a stranger's—leaner, younger, maybe 30s, with dark hair and a feral glint His cock—longer, slimmer than Alex's fucked me deep, churning the remnants of the first load of cum deeper inside me, my pussy yielding so wet. I thrashed, muffled cries vibrating against his hand, but he pinned me—weight crushing, free hand mauling my breast, pinching the nipple. "Shh, easy," hips snapping with quiet savagery. The bed creaked softlly. He fucked like a thief in the night, long strokes bottoming out, stirring that filthy mix inside me. Confusion warred with unwilling heat—my body, still drunk clenched around his cock, clit sparking despite the fear, breaths ragged through my nose as he ground deep, balls teasing my ass.
He was relentless, silent save for grunts, eyes locked on mine. I bucked, half-protest, half-need, walls fluttering as my pleasure coiled. His rhythm faltered, cock thickening; with a stifled groan Heat bloomed—fresh spurts, thinner but endless, filling me with cum anew, mingling with Alex's in a cocktail that seeped hot down my crack. He pulsed through it, grinding to wring himself dry. Just as suddenly, he withdrew—wet pop cock glistening as he tucked it away. No words, no trace; he slipped from the bed like smoke, vanishing. Heart slamming like a drum, I lay there frozen, pussy clenching on the double load, thick and warm, starting to trickle in earnest. The clock on the nightstand glowed 4 a.m. Fuck—boyfriend would be stirring soon, expecting me home from the event Panic overrode the afterglow; I scrambled up, thighs slick with their combined spunk, the mess smearing sticky trails down my inner legs.
Fingers trembling, I snatched my dress from the floor, yanking it over my sweat-damp skin, bodice snapping back over my tender tits. The skirt settled uneven, but no time— I tugged the hold-ups straight, rolling the lace tops up my calves and thighs, the sheer fabric now clinging.. Heels jammed on haphazardly, choker refastened, curls finger-combed—I bolted, tiptoeing past the shadowed living room where Alex snored obliviously on the couch. Door whispered shut behind me, elevator dinging like judgment day.
Outside, in the predawn chill bit I got a cab, sliding into the back seat every shift grinding their seed deeper, forcing more to ooze out. The driver glanced in the rear view, none the wiser. I crossed my legs tight, but it was futile: hot rivulets escaped, soaking the lacy tops of my stockings, trickling down then seeping onto the vinyl seat. The scent filled the cab, my pussy still twitching By the time we pulled up to my building, a dark, damp patch glistened accusingly where I'd sat, a filthy souvenir I left behind without a backward glance.
Home at last, I stripped in the bathroom shadows, wiping frantically at the trails with a warm cloth—thighs gleaming, folds puffy and spent—but some essence lingered, a secret slickness I couldn't fully erase. Boyfriend mumbled in his sleep as I slipped naked between cool sheets, body aching, mind reeling from the double claiming and a throb between my legs.
