While I was getting ready for the sex rendezvous, I remembered the plan I had for the original stranger. As it was a safer time for me then, I was planning to have my virgin raw penetration, of course, coupled with my virgin cream pie’s too. So I was thrilled at the idea of having virgins ride my pussy raw, inundating me with my first “virgin cream pie.”
I wanted them to know the change in plans. Winking at them, I declared I was fine with them playing without any condoms. There was a glow in their eyes as they were looking at my naked beauty, their eyes appearing confused whether they needed to focus on where they’d get to penetrate me raw or on the beautiful, sexy body parts of the naked sex goddess in front of them.
I initially thought of naming them as Pete, Eric, Nate, Ian, and Scott, in the order they played with me. But as there would be six of them, given Sam was going to come again, I changed them to Ben, Rick, Erik, Andrew, Sawyer, and Tyler. I told them they would get those names in the order they came into my bedroom and continue till we got done.
Giggling followed when they realized their names were moving from the hardening members they’d been playing with till then to the most spectacular one they were about to enjoy shortly.
Without delaying further, I turned around to let them watch my hair swing, my shoulder blades, my slender waist leading down to my tight, rounded 34‑inch back.
Sam—Ben from now on—was ready to follow me, his breath hitched as his eyes raked over me—naked, flushed, already aching for what came next.
His fingers twitched at his sides, the black satin robe he wore trembling as if caught in a breeze. The others lingered in the living room, their muffled voices a distant hum, but Ben’s focus was laser‑sharp, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“Y‑you first?” His voice cracked, boyish and uncertain, but his cock twitched against the fabric of his robe, betraying him.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned, letting my hips sway just enough to make the curve of my ass tease him as I walked toward the bedroom. The door clicked shut behind us, the sound final, intimate.
The second the latch caught, Ben’s robe hit the floor. His body was lean but solid, the kind built from years of awkward gym sessions and pent‑up frustration—broad shoulders tapering to a waist I could span with my hands, his cock already half‑hard, thick and veiny, jutting toward me like an accusation.
I didn’t give him time to overthink it.
My fingers curled into the damp heat of his chest as I pulled him against me, our skin slick where we pressed together. His lips were softer than I expected, full and clumsy at first, like he wasn’t sure where to put them. I took control, parting his mouth with my tongue, slow and deliberate. He tasted like cheap whiskey and something sweeter, like the caramel candies left on the bedside table. His hands hovered at my waist, unsure, before finally settling on my hips, fingers digging in just enough to bruise.
Panting, he started recalling the first time he saw me in the lobby and how he’d been longing to get to me. He ran his fingers over the golden mole I had below my lower lip, telling me that and my greenish eyes had fascinated him from the moment he first saw me. He said the twitch in his cock made those turn‑ons flood back the second he got close to them now. Smooching my face, he remembered how awkward he’d sounded when he first talked to me, trying to conceal his feelings. He also mentioned all of his bachelor team were virgins in their twenties, but they were all happy to have highly experienced me for the sex rendezvous.
He started kissing me. Five minutes. That’s how long it took for his hesitation to melt into hunger.
Our tongues tangled, wet and messy, his breath coming faster as I nipped at his lower lip, just hard enough to make him gasp.
He also admitted how he’d peeped out whenever I left the lobby just to get a glimpse of me. He felt happy he could get to communicate with me last night. And he still couldn’t believe his luck that my plans had been messed up. While mentioning that, his cock jerked against my stomach, thickening, leaking a hot bead of pre‑cum that smeared between us. I could feel his pulse in his lips, erratic and desperate, and when I bit down again—just there—he groaned into my mouth, his hips stuttering forward like he was already fucking me.
I broke the kiss first, my lips swollen, my nipples aching. His mouth followed, chasing, but I guided him down, pressing his palm to my left breast. “Suck,” I ordered, voice rough.
He was eager, his mouth sealed around my hot, wet nipple, his tongue flicking the stiff peak before he hollowed his cheeks. Pleasure lanced through me, sharp and electric, my back arching as I threaded my fingers into his hair. He was good—too good for a virgin, his lips working me with a hunger that bordered on worship. My folds grew slick, the ache between my thighs throbbing in time with his suckling. A whimper slipped from my throat, high and needy, and he groaned in response, the vibration making my nipple pulse.
“Fuck—yes—” My hips rolled, seeking friction, but he switched to my right breast before I could beg, his free hand squeezing the left, fingers pinching the wet nipple he’d just abandoned. The contrast—his mouth devouring one, his hand toying with the other—had me creaming, my thighs slick with it. I could smell myself, musky and thick, and when his teeth grazed my nipple, I came with a broken cry, my pussy clenching around nothing.
He didn’t stop.
His mouth grew sloppier and louder, the obscene squelch of his tongue against my skin filling the room as he switched back to my left breast, sucking hard enough to leave marks. My second orgasm hit before the first had even faded, my legs trembling, my fingers tight in his hair.
He mentioned how he’d loved feeling me sizzling in his arms, and murmured that, back in the lobby, he’d prayed for even a small conversation with me. I said, giggling, “You can enter into… me!!! Now!” And continued kissing, my words biting at my waiting hunger down under. “Ben—fuck—” I panted, but he was beyond listening, his cock leaking against my thigh, his breath ragged.
He couldn’t wait anymore.
His hands shoved between my legs, spreading me open, his fingers slick with my arousal as he lined himself up. The condom was not on—good boy—but his hands shook as he gripped my hips, lifting me just enough to notch the head of his cock against my entrance. I barely had time to brace before he thrust inside, a thick, burning stretch that stole my breath.
“Oh god—” The words tore from him, guttural and raw, his hips stuttering as he bottomed out. He was big—eight inches—and I could feel every ridge, every throb of his pulse as he buried himself to the hilt. My walls fluttered around him, still sensitive from my orgasms, but he didn’t move, his body locked as if he was afraid to break.
Then he came.
A choked sound ripped from his throat, his cock jerking deep inside me as he spilled, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise. I could feel it—my virgin filling—his cum hot, his body shuddering with the force of it. Disappointment flared, bitter and sharp. Already? I was not sure if I was thrilled at my first cream pie, or disappointed as it was without including any of my juices, I don’t know. But I needed to reach my own peak while he was still pumping.
But I was thrilled when his cock twitched again, still half‑hard, and I knew he wasn’t done.
I pushed him back onto the bed, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. I saw him slick with cum, the tip bulging, and I grabbed him with a smirk. His cum was thick, pearly, dripping down his shaft, and I leaned in, my tongue flicking out to catch a bead from the head. Salty, bitter, virgin—I hummed, savoring it before spitting onto his cock, watching his eyes blow wide as I stroked him, his length already stiffening under my touch.
“Still hard for me?” I murmured, licking my lips.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
I took him into my mouth, no teasing, no buildup—just my throat opening around him, my lips sealing at the base. His cock hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed, the muscles fluttering around him. His hands flew to my hair, fingers tangling, his hips jerking up with a broken sound. “Fuck—!”
I pulled back just enough to breathe, my lips dragging along his shaft, then took him deep again, my nose pressing into the damp curls at the base of his cock. His thighs trembled, his breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps as I hollowed my cheeks, my tongue working the thick vein underneath. He was close—I could taste it, the salt of his pre‑cum, the way his cock swelled even thicker in my mouth.
My hands slid to his waist, my nails digging in as I took him to the root again, my throat convulsing around him. His hips snapped up, his cock pulsing, and I knew—next time, he’d last. Next time, I’d make sure he fucked me properly.
But for now?
I pulled off with a wet pop, his cock glistening, already angry and red. Before he could catch his breath, I dropped back to my knees, taking his cock into my mouth again. This time, I didn’t tease. I took him to the root, my throat fluttering around him, my hands gripping his ass to hold him still as I swallowed around his length. His hips stuttered, his cock twitching, and then he was coming, his cum spilling down my throat in thick, salty pulses. I drank him down, my lips sealed around the base, my eyes watering as I took every last drop.
I pulled back with a slow, deliberate lick up the underside of his cock, then stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Ben’s legs nearly gave out, his chest heaving. I turned him toward the bed and gave him a gentle shove. He collapsed onto the mattress, his cock still half‑hard, glistening with my saliva. I followed, crawling over him, my breasts brushing his chest as I straddled his thighs.
“Again,” I murmured, reaching between them to stroke him back to full hardness. His eyes widened, but he didn’t protest. Not when I rose up on my knees, my pussy hovering over his cock. Not when I sank down, taking him inch by inch, my inner walls stretching around his thickness. And certainly not when I began to ride him, my hips rolling in slow, deep circles, my nails digging into his chest.
But I didn’t want slow. I wanted hard. I wanted to be fucked.
I flipped onto my stomach, ass in the air, my face pressed into the pillows. Ben knelt behind me, his hands gripping my hips, his cock notching at my entrance. Then he thrust in—one sharp, deep stroke that stole my breath. I cried out, my fingers clawing at the sheets. He didn’t stop. Didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me like he’d been starving for it, his hips snapping against my ass, his balls slapping against my clit with every thrust.
Every thrust drove the breath from my lungs, my tits bouncing with the force, my nipples stiff and begging for attention. He dipped his head, capturing one between his lips, sucking hard enough to make me whimper. The taste of my skin, salty and warm, mixed with the scent of sex clinging to the air—it was intoxicating. He bit down just enough to make me gasp, then soothed the sting with a slow, swirling lick of his tongue.
“You like that?” he murmured against my flesh, his voice rough with effort. “Like when I bite you?”
My answer was a broken moan, my fingers tangling in his hair, yanking him closer. “Harder,” I demanded, my voice thick with need. “I want marks.”
A shudder ran through him at the command, his cock twitching inside me. He turned me onto my back, went between my thighs, and had both my boobs laid out on a platter for him. He obeyed, sinking his teeth into the soft swell of my breast, then the delicate skin of my throat, each bite punctuated by a deep, grinding thrust that made me cry out. My pussy clenched around him, slick and scorching, my walls fluttering as he hit that perfect spot inside me again and again. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard thudding against the wall in a rhythm as relentless as his hips.
Time blurred. Twenty minutes melted into a haze of sweat and gasps, of my nails raking down his back, of his name falling from my lips like a prayer. He could feel me tightening around him, my body coiling like a spring, and he knew I was close. “Come on, Silky,” he growled, his lips brushing my ear. “Come for me one more time.”
“Harder,” I gasped, and Ben obeyed, his grip bruising, his cock pistoning into me with brutal precision. My orgasm crashed over me without warning, my body locking up, my pussy clamping down around him. He groaned, his thrusts turning erratic, then buried himself to the hilt and came, his cum flooding me in hot, thick spurts.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was our ragged breathing. Then Ben pulled out, his cock slipping free with a wet sound. I collapsed onto the bed, my limbs trembling, my pussy throbbing, my thighs slick with his cum. I could feel it dripping out of me, warm and mixed with both our juices, and I felt like I’d achieved what I wanted.
When he finally collapsed on top of me, his cock still twitching inside me, his breath ragged against my neck, I could feel his cum leaking out of me, warm and sticky against my thighs. My body was a wreck—my lips swollen from his kisses, my nipples sore, my pussy and ass both throbbing—but I’d never felt more alive.
Ben flopped beside me, his chest heaving. “Holy shit,” he breathed.
I turned my head, my lips curling in a slow, satisfied smile. “And we’re just getting started.”
I turned my head, my lips curling into a lazy, satisfied smile as I traced a finger down his damp skin. “Not bad for a virgin,” I murmured.
I ran my fingers through his sweat‑damp hair, my own body still trembling with aftershocks. “Again,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I want it again.” His chuckle was dark, promising. “Greedy girl,” he murmured, his cock already stirring back to life inside me. “I’ll give you everything you can take.”
Ben let out a breathless laugh, but before he could respond, the sharp chime of a clock somewhere in the suite cut through the haze. His eyes widened. “Shit—” He scrambled off the bed, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. “I—I gotta go. Next guy’s waiting. But watch out for the onslaught in the night!!! I will be ruining your pleasure garden tonight.”
I merely hummed, stretching like a cat in the sunlight, my body gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. “I’m looking forward to it, hun!! Run along, then,” I drawled, watching his movements, clumsy with urgency. “Wouldn’t want to keep Rick waiting.”
Ben didn’t dare look back as he bolted for the adjoining room, the door clicking shut behind him.
I lay there for a long moment, savoring the throb between my thighs, the delicious ache of well‑used muscles. Eventually, with a sigh, I pushed myself up, my legs wobbling slightly as I padded toward the bathroom. The cool tile beneath my feet was a shock after the heat of the bed, but the sting of it grounded me, sharpened my senses.
I didn’t bother closing the door.
Leaning against the vanity, I spread my thighs and let out a slow, satisfied breath as I began to pee. The stream was warm, a relief after the intensity of the last hour, and I let my head fall back, eyes slipping shut. The sound of it hitting the water was oddly soothing, the last of the tension draining from my body with every second.
The steam from the shower still clung to my skin as I stepped onto the plush carpet, my bare feet sinking into its softness. The cool air of the bedroom kissed my heated body, tightening my nipples into aching peaks. I didn’t bother with a towel—why would I? The way my skin glistened, the way my curves rippled with every movement, it was all part of the game. My reflection in the floor‑length mirror caught my eye: dark blonde waves damp and tousled, my 36Ds heavy and full, swaying slightly with each breath, the swell of my hips leading down to the shadowed apex of my thighs. A slow, knowing smile curled my lips. Good. Let them see what they’re missing.