My Neighbor's Daughter Creampies Me After the Party

The bass from next door had been rattling Cedric's kitchen windows since nine, a dull repetitive thud that made the water in his glass shiver. He was forty-two, a divorced architect with a habit of working late over tracing paper, and he had spent three years teaching himself to like a quiet house. Tonight the quiet was gone. Laughter cracked over the cedar fence. Someone had dragged a plastic cooler halfway into his yard and abandoned it on the grass he had mowed that morning, ice melting into a dark patch near his herbs.

He stepped onto the patio in a soft gray T-shirt and old pants, barefoot on flagstone still warm from the day, and stood with one hand on the back of a chair. He could complain. He could wait it out. The latch on the side gate clicked before he chose.

Teresa slipped through and pulled the gate shut behind her. Twenty, a college sophomore home for the summer, she was Octavia's daughter from the house that shared his fence. A short black dress clung to her, and she had kicked her shoes off somewhere on her own lawn. Her hair was twisted up and already coming loose at the nape. She looked flushed from dancing. Her eyes were clear, steady, not glassy, and when they found him her smile knew exactly what it was doing.

"They're idiots," she said, nodding at the cooler. "I told them your yard was off-limits. I'll haul it back in a minute. I just needed a door that wasn't full of college guys yelling over a speaker."

Cedric had lived beside that house for years and known Octavia, Teresa's mother, from waved hellos over the fence. He had never thought of Teresa as anything but the neighbor's daughter until after she turned eighteen, when she came home from college a grown woman with a lower voice and a walk that did not ask the street for permission. He had kept every thought on his side of the fence. Tonight the fence had a gap in it shaped like her.

"You don't have to apologize for a party," he said. "You do have to tell them to keep the ice out of my lawn."

"Already did." She came closer and stopped at the edge of the patio light. The music dulled behind the boards. "You're not mad."

"I'm not mad."

She studied his mouth, then his hands. "Good. Because I've been wanting to come over here since I got home, and the noise was the excuse." Her throat moved. "I've been fantasizing about you since I turned eighteen. Not before. I wasn't looking at men that way yet, and I wouldn't have wanted you looking back. The week I turned eighteen I saw you in the driveway with your sleeves rolled, and I went upstairs and ruined a pair of panties thinking about your hands. Two years of that. College boys don't touch the way I picture you touching me."

She crossed the last of the flagstone and put her palms on his chest. The dress was thin. Under it her body was tight and warm, college-fit, the kind of young that made his cock thicken before she even rolled her hips. She pressed in, belly to his, and felt him get hard. Her smile went wicked.

"There he is," she whispered. "I knew you'd be thick. Those college boys get nervous if I say cock out loud. They fumble the condom and come in their pants if I look at them too long. I don't want clumsy. I want a real man's cock. I want yours. I want you to stretch me open and fill me until I'm dripping on your patio and I have to walk back over there with it running down my thighs."

Cedric's hands found her waist. He should have said something measured. What came out was rougher. "Say it again. Clear."

"I want you to fuck me," Teresa said, rocking against the ridge in his pants. "I want your cock in my mouth first, because I've practiced on my fingers imagining the weight of it, and then I want you to bend me over and pump me full. I'm on birth control. I want the creampie anyway. I want more than one. I'm asking you to use me tonight, Cedric. Yes. All the way yes."

That was enough. More than enough. He nodded once, and the nod felt like opening a door he'd kept latched for two careful years. "Then get on your knees."

She dropped. The flagstone was warm from the day. Her fingers worked his belt with none of the hesitation she'd accused the college boys of, popped the button, dragged the zipper down, and shoved his pants and boxers to his thighs. His cock swung out heavy, flushed, already wet at the tip. Teresa made a small hungry sound and wrapped her hand around the shaft, testing the thickness, the heat.

"Fuck," she said, almost reverent, and then filthy again. "This is what I needed. Look at it. I'm going to choke on this and thank you."

"You can stop whenever you want," he said, because he needed it said even while his hips ached forward.

"I don't want to stop." She licked the underside from base to crown, slow, then took the head into her mouth and sucked like she meant to pull the come out of him by force. Her lips stretched. Spit shone on her chin after the second bob. She relaxed her throat and pushed down until her nose brushed his stomach, gagged once, pulled off with a wet gasp, and went back down harder. One hand stroked what she couldn't swallow. The other cupped his balls, rolling them, urging.

Cedric groaned and threaded his fingers into her hair, not forcing, just holding, letting her set a pace that was already obscene. She moaned around him, the vibration running straight up his spine. When she pulled off, a string of spit connected her lip to his cock, and she looked up with blown pupils and a messy mouth.

"Use my mouth," she begged. "Fuck it. I want to feel you lose it a little. Then I want this cock in my pussy. I'm soaked. I've been soaked since I saw you out here. Please."

He tightened his grip and gave her three shallow thrusts, then a deeper one that made her eyes water and her thighs press together. She took it. She wanted it. The lust stopped being a conversation and became a fact between them, raw and agreed and already too late to pretend it was anything else.

He pulled her up and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue, and she kissed back like she meant to climb into his mouth. The patio table was teak and sturdy, the one he used for sketches on mild nights. He turned her, bent her over it, and shoved the dress to her waist. No panties. Her ass was bare and round, and between her thighs her pussy shone, swollen and slick, a thin shine already on her skin. The string lights caught the wet. She spread her feet without being told.

"You walked over like this," he said.

"I took them off before I left my bathroom," Teresa said, bracing her forearms on the wood. "I wanted you to find me ready. Please. Put it in. I want it."

He dragged the head of his cock through her folds, coating himself, and she pushed back with a broken sound. He held her hip and sank in. She was tight and gripping, heat taking him inch by inch until his hips met her ass and they both swore. He stayed buried, thumb stroking the dip of her spine, letting her adjust around the stretch.

"Okay?" he asked.

"More than okay. Move. Fuck me like you mean it. I didn't come over for gentle."

He drew back and drove in, a deep stroke that knocked a moan out of her and made the table creak. Then another. Then a rhythm, the punishing pace she had asked for, his hips slapping her ass, his cock opening her on every thrust. Wet sounds rose under the music from next door. She dropped her forehead to her wrists and took it, pushing back to meet him, greedy for the depth. Each stroke seated him to the root.

"God, you're deep," she gasped. "Right there. Don't go shallow. I want a real man's cock all the way in. Breed me, Cedric. I've wanted that since I turned eighteen and not one day before, and I'm twenty, and I'm telling you to fill this pussy and keep it there."

He growled and fucked her harder, one hand fisted in the dress at her lower back, the other under her to rub her clit in rough circles. She got wetter, slick coating his cock, her voice breaking on his name. The table shifted an inch on the stone.

She clenched and came with a sharp cry she couldn't bite off. Her pussy fluttered around him, milking, trying to pull him deeper, and he had to still his hips or he would have finished in that first tight spasm. Not yet. He wanted her face when he gave her what she'd begged for. He stayed buried through the aftershocks, breathing hard against her shoulder, then pulled her upright by the hips.

"Not like this," he said. "You're going to ride me. I want that ass in my hands while you work for it."

He sat in the wide patio chair, cock standing up wet and flushed, and she climbed on facing away. She reached between her thighs, lined him up, and sank down in one long glide, taking him to the root. The sound she made was filthy gratitude.

"So thick. I can feel you everywhere."

She braced her hands on his knees and rode, lifting until only the head stayed inside, then dropping, grinding her tight young cunt down onto him in slow circles that blurred his vision. Her ass flexed. The dress stayed bunched at her waist. He watched his cock disappear into her, shiny with her.

He slapped her ass, a clean crack, and she jolted and clenched. "Again." He slapped the other cheek, then the first, pink blooming under his palm, and the words came out low and rough. "Look at you. Perfect cum-hungry slut, riding an older man's cock on his patio while your party goes on without you. That's what you are tonight. My perfect cum-hungry slut. Twenty and already sure whose cock you need. Grind down. Take it. Show me how you use a man who can actually fuck you."

She moaned and bounced harder, ass slapping his thighs. "Yes. I'm your slut. Say it while I creampie you. I'm going to milk every drop out of this cock. That's what I came to do. Your neighbor's daughter is going to creampie you, and you're going to sit there and take it."

He slapped her ass again and felt her come, shaking, soaking his balls, her cunt spasming so tight he gripped her hips and held her down. He didn't let himself go. His jaw ached from holding it. When she could speak she looked back, hair wrecked, eyes bright and sober.

"On my back. Watch my face. Pin me open. Every load. Don't pull out."

He stood with her, then laid her on the wide lounge cushion, sturdy enough for what he intended. She went down eager, dress rucked up, and spread her legs without being asked. He caught her ankles, folded her thighs back, and pinned them wide, knees toward her shoulders, her pussy open and glistening from the fucking. He looked at her face. Flushed cheeks. Sure eyes. A smile that was all hunger.

"You want it."

"I want it. Come in me. Breed this pussy. Watch me take it."

He pushed in to the hilt and fucked her in deep grinding strokes, watching her mouth fall open. He hooked one knee over his elbow, kept the other leg pinned wide, and pounded her like that until the pressure at the base of his spine broke.

The first load hit hard. He drove in and stayed, cock pulsing, and poured a hot thick rush of come into her, groaning her name, flooding the deepest part of her while he watched her eyes go wide. She grabbed his shoulders and held him there, and she came around the pulse of it, a helpless clench that pulled more out of him. He kept coming, thick spurts, not pulling back an inch, until the first wave emptied and he was shaking over her.

"Don't go soft," she whispered, rolling her hips, working him. "Stay in me. I can feel it, so much, so hot. Give me another. Pump me full. I told you. Creampie after creampie until I can't hold it."

He was still hard, oversensitive and unwilling to stop, and he started moving again, fucking his own come back into her, the sounds wetter, obscene. He pinned her legs wide and watched her face while he built to the next one, her brows drawn, her mouth slack.

"Look at me," he ordered.

"I'm looking. Come. I want the next one. Fill me up. I want to leak all the way back to that party."

He slammed deep and came again, a second hot thick creampie jetting into her already flooded pussy, and he watched her face take it: the shock, the greed, the smile like she had won. He ground the load in. She clenched on purpose, milking him, whispering yes, don't waste a drop. A third heavy spill rolled up before the second had finished, and he held himself buried and gave her that too, pulsing while her legs shook in his grip and her pussy fluttered around every spurt.

After the final spill he didn't pull out. He stayed buried, cock twitching in the mess he'd made, and lowered her legs without leaving her body. Teresa trembled through the aftershocks, small shocks he could feel around his shaft, and her hands slid up to his jaw. She kissed him greedily, open-mouthed, and when she broke it her smile was wrecked and shining.

"This is only the beginning," she whispered. "I'm using this cock all summer. Every night I can get away. You're going to keep creampieing me until I go back to campus, and I'm going to walk around knowing whose it is. Don't decide this was a mistake. I asked. You said yes. We're doing it again."

She squeezed him once, then eased off with a wet sound. Come followed at once, thick and white, spilling out of her flushed pussy and running down her thighs. She tugged the dress down, stood on shaky legs, and slipped back through the gate toward the music, leaking his cum with every step, a wicked satisfied smile on her mouth as the party took her.

Cedric stayed where he was, and the next time was already a plan. Tomorrow at ten he would leave the side gate unlatched, clear his drafting table, and text her after Octavia left for work: come over, no panties, bent over the drawings. He picked up his phone and started typing.