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Message-ID: <34088asstr$1008519010@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Creampie Eater" <creampiestories@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Miss Eggnog" (MF nc gang?) by Creampie Eater
Date: Sun, 16 Dec 2001 11:10:10 -0500
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DISCLAIMER:

This is a story about sex between consenting adults. If you are not an 
adult, you cannot consent, even to read this story. Therefore, read 
something else. Note also that my stories may portray sexual acts that 
are not necessarily safe. Since you are an adult reading this, you 
know it. Even so, caveat lector.

NOTES:

This is one of about five planned Christmas stories.  I hope to get 
them all done by Christmas. :)  I will post them first to my Yahoo 
club, and then to here, and then to my archive:

http://clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/CreampieStories
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/creampie/www

As always, comments can be sent the old-fashioned way to 
CreampieStories@yahoo.com. I adore comments, good and bad, but rarely 
receive them. Why not send comments today to the authors you read on 
ASS and ASSM, including me?

Note too that this story, like all my stories, is Copyright (C) 2001 by 
Creampie Eater.  All Rights Reserved. No commercial posting is 
allowed. Please drop me a note asking permission to post on your 
personal web site. No modification whatsoever is allowed.

Miss Eggnog

My wife Perra and I love to throw a Christmas party.  I find it 
wonderful to have my close friends over to enjoy the cheer and 
camaraderie of the season.  Plus, I often find some of Perra's friends 
under the misletoe, if you know what I mean.  Usually, the party gets 
pretty vibrant, especially considering we are mostly 30- and 40- 
somethings.  This year, it really got out of hand.

I blame myself.  I invited my co-workers, and the only ones without 
plans were the 20-somethings.  When they asked if they could bring 
dates, I told them it was OK.  Well, someone blabbed about the party, 
and soon I found people I didn't know grabbing beers from the ice 
barrel.

At first, I thought it was a co-worker's date that I didn't know, but 
the party got increasingly crowded.  I found Perra and asked what I 
should do; order the crashers out or roll with it.  She told me to 
relax, and to have fun for once.  So I did.

We had sent our kids to a friend's for the night, which removed my 
biggest problem with a noisy party: keeping the children awake.  It 
also gave me a chance to hook up the Xbox I had bought my son for 
Christmas (hey, I had to make sure it worked, right?).  I spent the 
time before the party ripping my son's favorite songs and Christmas 
tunes to the hard disk, and then I had rented DOA3 and Halo to play at 
the party.  When the youngsters arrived, the 5.1 surround system was 
cranked up while the game was played.  It was loud, and it was a 
blast.

Letting go, for me, also means I do shots.  This year, the shots were 
"Blow Jobs".  My friend Caren showed me how to swallow, and got me all 
horny by licking out the whipped cream "cum".  I am sure she was 
reminding me of my recent taste of her creampie.  I am equally sure 
she wanted a repeat, but events intervened.

After midnight, the police came to "ask" that I turn down the volume.  
I did, and most of the younger people bailed.  I heard them saying 
there was another party, and suddenly the whole place seemed empty.  
The only ones who remained were the older invited guests.

I decided to scope out a place where I could quickly fuck Caren.  She 
had gotten me too damn horny, and we had briefly made out in the half 
bath off the kitchen.  Seeking a quiet place, I went up to my master 
bath.

There, I found the event that intervened.  Jennifer, my most valued, 
overachieving young professional, was sprawled in the middle of the 
floor, passed-out.  Worse, her Christmas-y red velvet blouse was open, 
and her red front-clasped bra was undone, exposing her breasts.  Worse 
yet, her short plaid skirt was hiked up to her hips and her panties 
were missing.  Worse than that, she was leaking from her pussy a 
yellow-white mixture that looked like high-quality eggnog.  My God!  
My treasured sub-ordinate was oozing a creampie!

Quickly, I closed the door and locked it.  What should I do?  I am 
ashamed my first thought was to consider getting my digital camera, to 
record the sexiest sight I had ever stumbled upon.  I mean, Jennifer 
works out every day--she's a swimmer--and she is incredibly toned.  
Her legs were spread in a manner that suggested she'd welcomed the cum 
she was leaking from her pink, puffy pussy. She looks like the really 
cute blonde girlfriend on the TV show 'Ed', and I had admired her 
earlier, when she first arrived.  So, the thought that I should 
capture this image was natural and took a mighty effort to decide 
against.

My second, kinder thought was to clean her up and to get her sober.  I 
knelt next to her, trying not to stare at her hard nipples, and gently 
nudged her.  "Jennifer?  Jennifer?  Wake up."  She just muttered and 
turned her head away, still out cold.

What I should have done then--no, what I should have done 
immediately--was to get my wife or another woman to take over.  But, 
I' d been drinking too and I wasn't exactly thinking clearly.  
Instead, I grabbed a hand towel to clean the "eggnog" which was 
draining from her.

Then--more evidence of muddled judgement--I thought, "Wait a minute!  
I know how to clean this out!"  My compulsive desire to suck cum from 
a freshly fucked pussy overcame me, and led me to kneel between her 
lewdly spread thighs.

For long moments, I stared at her pink flesh.  I hated myself for even 
thinking about eating my subordinate.  I looked up at her face, cute 
and sleeping. Then, I looked down and studied her orifice.  Setting 
aside my inhibitions, I pressed my tongue into her oozing pussy.

I lapped at her, thrilled with the taboo idea that I was tasting her 
and a nameless man.  I pressed my thumbs against her lips, spreading 
her open to gain deeper open.  I thought about how open she must have 
been as the man fucked her.  I wondered whether she had been awake, 
and had welcomed his penetrations, or if she had been passed out and 
been taken advantage of.  Perhaps my tongue would be welcome, or maybe 
I was just another of the guys who were taking advantage of her.

As I sucked at her, I came to believe that more than one guy had to 
have left a load inside.  There was just too much cum.  I imagined her 
getting gangbanged, guys smirking triumphantly at each other as they 
shoved their meat into her.  Maybe she came, maybe she was already 
passed out.  Maybe a chain of guys stole away, coming to her one by 
one to leave some more eggnog for me.  Or maybe just to gawk at the 
"drunk chick" leaking cum.

Terribly excited, I lifted her legs so that I could press my face into 
her enflamed snatch.  Eagerly I sucked and licked, getting closer to 
orgasm myself.  She let out drunken sighs, startling and engaging my 
flight response.  But then I realized she was still out, and that she 
was just responding on autopilot to the pleasure I was giving her.

I desperately wanted to fuck her myself.  She was so cute, young, and 
nubile.  I wanted to bury my cock into her twentyfive-year-old pussy, 
and then to clean her out at my leisure.  But, as I thought it, I lost 
it, and it became impossible to insert my cock into her.  I came in my 
shorts, my face pressed deeply into her crevice.

After I came in my shorts, I came to my senses.  I was in a terribly 
compromising position.  What could I do if she came out of it and 
claimed I attacked her?  Her compromised status would be nothing 
compared to mine.  I could lose everything!

Quickly, I fumbled with her bra, and snapped it together.  Then, I 
buttoned her blouse, but left it untucked.  Finally, I pulled down her 
skirt.  There was nothing I could do to get her panties, but at least 
their theft wasn't immediately obvious.

I stole out of the bathroom, and into my closet to switch my own 
underwear.  Quickly I went back into the master bath to throw my 
soiled undies into the clothes hamper.  Actually, I stuffed them to 
the bottom, lest my fresh load be found while it was still wet.

I locked the door behind me and then went down to the party.  Some 
time later, my wife Perra asked me to help her unlock the bathroom 
door, because it was locked and she thought someone was inside.  
Feigning ignorance (which I am able to do surprisingly well), I 
gathered what I needed and then picked the lock.  Surprise, surprise, 
Jennifer was there, passed out.

Perra started fussing over her, while I went down to make coffee.  A 
couple hours later, we put Jennifer to bed in our guestroom.  She was 
more sober, but still was in no shape to drive.  The next morning, she 
had breakfast with us, then left when I went to get the kids and bring 
them home.

When I got home, Perra told me that Jennifer had asked about her 
missing panties.  To allay her fears and ease her embarrassment, Perra 
had told her that she had found them soiled with the aftermath, and 
had thrown them away.  Jennifer accepted this without comment, while I 
feigned surprise that they were missing.

Perra then let out a huge sigh of relief.  "Thank God she didn't blame 
us for being raped.  We could have been in real trouble."

Raped?  Holy shit, that is exactly what had happened!  All the 
excitement I felt at my dirty secret soured, and I felt guilty at my 
own culpability.  Maybe I had a rapist on my staff!  I hoped it was 
consensual sex that Jennifer had enjoyed, but the thought that it 
might not be nagged me all weekend, as did the memory of my role in 
the sordid affair.

But, Monday morning my feelings changed again, when Jennifer breezed 
into my office, chipper and happy as usual.  She thanked me for 
inviting her to the great party, and was grateful for the care Perra 
and I had given her.  There was no indication she had felt outrage at 
being raped, and I convinced myself that she had given up her 
sexuality freely.

I just about choked when she told me, "I brought some eggnog," and 
turned to lead me back to the office kitchen.  While I followed her, I 
surveyed her svelte form, conservative clothes, and cute trendy bob, 
feeling my horniness return.  It wasn't eggnog in a glass I was 
thinking about drinking, I can assure you.

***

Comments to creampiestories@yahoo.com appreciated.  Oh, and enjoy some
good eggnog this year. :)



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