Cream Pie

Her hands fluttered over my head. I planted kisses into the soft wet pubic fleece and on the still open pussy, my tongue licking at the warm used flesh.

Her hands moved down on either side of my head. Her fingers stroked softly for a moment at the hollows of her inner thighs, then slowly spread the fleshy, hair-rimmed lips, allowing my mouth complete access. I felt her hands at my hair, guiding me to her clitoris. I ran my tongue into the soft flesh, flicking at it for a moment, and then withdrawing to tease again around the edges, pressing my mouth directly over the warm cunt. I covered the centre, thrusting my tongue deep down into it, bringing a low guttural groan from her as soft thighs closed around either side of my head. I felt the wet flesh slip moistly around my tongue, my nose moving tightly against the tiny clitoris, scarcely breathing in the pungent odour of our secretions.

She suddenly tensed with a deep-throated groan. Her juices and mine oozed from her passage, drowning my chin and lips with its sticky warmth and trickling down the crevice of her rounded buttocks. She pushed firmly at my face, "no more! No more, I'm too sensitive!" She was panting with exertion, and flushed with the pleasure.

"Ricky! What was that all about, you never do that afterwards!" Leila was amazed.

"Well you hadn't come yet, so I thought I'd help,"

Her face screwed up with astonishment, "but it's so messy down there!"

I could feel my sheepish smile, "I have just had some cream pie!"

She glanced down in between her legs, smiled, then looked straight into my eyes,

"Is that what caused all that confusion today?" She began to giggle helplessly and lay back on her pillow covering her face with her hands. Then she started laughing out loud.

"I'm glad you think it's so funny!" I was feeling very stupid.

Leila had called me at work, at about four in the afternoon, saying that if I fancied some cream pie I'd better join her at the Red Lion Hotel as soon as I could get there.

Now this is normal for her. Not the cream pie, but calling me out from our little business at any hour to join her at something – anything from sex to buying a pair of shoes. So you can imagine my confusion, and dismay. I was incredulous, speechless.

Leila's best friend, Nancy, was at the entrance of the Red Lion, a fairly large hotel in town. She smiled as I approached and said that Leila was inside, we were to join her. Both Nancy and Leila know I can't stand Nancy's husband, William. I felt confused to say the least, I didn't feel like saying anything.

Leila was in the tearoom, sitting at a table set for afternoon tea.

"Where is Bill?" I said, gruffly. I was not going to stand for any nonsense.

"William didn't want to come," replied Nancy, a little taken aback.

"There's an American Festival here this week," said Leila, "and Nancy says that the Cream pie is delicious!"

I felt like a total idiot would feel. It must have shown because Leila was concerned.

"Are you all right love?" she asked.

"Better now," I managed.

I was kicking myself.

Then the waitress arrived with the tea and a sponge cake filled with cream.

No piecrust, none of the cream that I could reasonably expect. Sponge cake, with icing on top, filled with cream.

"No cream pie?" I asked, "I came here for cream pie!" I was overdoing it, more than a little embarrassed, and now totally confused.

"This is Boston Cream pie, sir," said the waitress, very smug.

"Really?" I said,

"Oh!" I said.

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Leila had finally quietened down to giggles when she suddenly sat up and said,

"You didn't think that William and I ... "

Damn! I thought.

This story was workshopped at the Fish Tank.