Tattooed & Creampied 2
1489 Words
His fingers slid in deeper, curling inside me and stretching me open in a way that made my p***y gush all over his hand.
“Listen to that,” he growled, eyes glued to the mess dripping down my thighs. “So f*****g wet for me. Bet you’ve been dreaming of c**k splitting you open, huh?”
“Yes,” I gasped, too far gone to deny it.
He grinned like he’d won something, then yanked his fingers out and unbuckled his belt. The sound made my stomach clench, anticipation burning hotter than fire. His pants hit the floor, and when he shoved the chair back, I turned just enough to see him stroke his c**k.
Jesus Christ.
Thick, long and veiny leaking pre that glistened as his hand worked up and down his shaft. My mouth watered at the sight.
“You see this, sweetheart?” His voice was a filthy purr. “This is what’s about to ruin your little tattoo appointment.”
I couldn’t even breathe. I could only nod, eyes wide, my p***y twitching desperately.
He lined himself up, the fat head of his c**k pressing against my soaked hole. The stretch burned instantly, making me moan loud, but he didn’t give me a second to adjust, he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt in one rough thrust.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned, head falling back. “Tightest f*****g p***y I’ve ever been in.”
I screamed, clutching the chair, my body arching as his c**k split me open. The sting of the stretch mixed with the fullness until I couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure tearing me apart.
He gave me no mercy.
His hips pounded into me, each thrust deep and hard, the sound of his balls slapping my soaked cunt echoing in the room. My face was pressed into the leather, my body shaking as he used me like I was nothing but a hole for him to wreck.
“Take it,” he snarled, gripping my hair and yanking my head back. “Take this c**k like you f*****g wanted.”
“God! oh my god!” I sobbed, my p***y clenching helplessly around him.
He pulled out halfway and slammed back in, harder, deeper, making my ass bounce against his hips. His c**k hit something inside me that made me scream.
“That’s it,” he gritted out as he f****d me harder. “That’s the spot. Gonna pound it until you’re crying for me to stop.”
My p***y was drenched, dripping down my thighs, soaking his c**k every time he slammed into me. The filthy squelching filled the air, mixing with his low groans and my cries.
“Feel how deep I am?” he rasped, slamming all the way in until I felt him in my stomach. “No toy, no fingers, nothing’s ever filled you like this cock.”
He was right. I’d never felt anything like it. My body was unraveling, nerves on fire, the orgasm building so fast I couldn’t fight it.
“Please,” I cried, tears stinging my eyes. “I can’t—”
“You can.” He shoved two fingers into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue as he f****d me harder, sweat dripping down his tattooed arms. “You’re gonna c*m all over my c**k and make a mess on this chair. Do it, sweetheart. Now.”
That command broke me.
I came with a scream, my p***y clenching around his c**k like a vise, soaking him with wave after wave of release. My thighs shook violently, my body collapsing forward, but he held me up and kept thrusting through my orgasm, prolonging it until I was sobbing from the intensity.
He grunted, his thrusts turning sloppy, and I knew he was close. His c**k throbbed inside me, leaking more pre, and I wanted it, wanted him to fill me with every filthy drop.
“Where do you want it?” he growled, voice rough, f*****g me harder. “Your p***y? Your ass? All over that pretty back?”
“Inside,” I begged, dizzy with pleasure. “c*m inside me, please!”
His eyes darkened, his grip on my hips tightening. “f**k, sweetheart. You’re gonna regret asking for that.”
And then he slammed in one last time, burying himself deep, c**k pulsing as he spilled hot c*m inside me.
I cried out at the flood, my p***y spasming around him, milking every drop as he groaned my name like it was the filthiest prayer.
The chair creaked beneath us, my tattoo stung, my body wrecked but all I could think about was how full I felt, stuffed to the brim with his c**k and c*m.
I collapsed against the chair, my whole body trembling, his c**k still buried deep inside me. c*m leaked out around the thick shaft, dripping down my thighs and pooling on the leather beneath me.
“f**k,” he groaned, hips grinding lazily, like he wasn’t ready to pull out yet. “p***y’s still milking me. You’re f*****g addicted already.”
My throat was raw from moaning, my voice barely a whisper. “You’re huge… I can feel you everywhere.”
That made him grin. He leaned over me, tattooed chest pressing against my back, his breath hot in my ear. “Good. I want you to remember this c**k every time you sit down and feel that tattoo sting.”
He finally pulled out, and I gasped at the emptiness. Thick strings of c*m followed, spilling down my ass and staining the chair. My legs shook so hard I almost slipped off, but his hand gripped my hip, steadying me.
“Messy little thing,” he murmured, swiping two fingers through the c*m dripping from my p***y before shoving them into my mouth.
I moaned, sucking them clean, tasting myself and him mixed together.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, stroking his c**k with his other hand, still hard, still leaking like he hadn’t just emptied inside me. “Get used to the taste, sweetheart. You’re gonna be swallowing it a lot.”
Heat exploded in my chest, my p***y clenching weakly even though it was raw.
I tried to move, but my thighs trembled uselessly. “I—I can’t walk.”
His smirk deepened. “Good. Means I f****d you right.”
He gave his c**k one slow stroke, groaning as another thick bead of pre rolled down the head. He smeared it with his thumb, then dragged it across my swollen clit just to watch me jolt.
“Holy f**k!” I yelped, hips jerking, overstimulated and messy.
“Sensitive, huh?” He chuckled darkly, pressing the fat head of his c**k against my p***y again, teasing the entrance. “Bet I could slide back in easy, you’re still gaping for me.”
“Please, no—I’ll die,” I panted, but even as I begged, my p***y twitched like it wanted it.
He laughed, low and cruel. “Not yet, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’ll keep you begging every time you come back.”
He finally stepped back, stroking himself lazily as he admired me bent over, dripping his c*m. His eyes were hungry, like he was already planning the next round.
“You see this?” he asked, squeezing the base of his c**k, pre dripping down the thick length. “Anytime you need it, you come here. No appointments. Just you, me, and this c**k ruining you all over again.”
I swallowed hard, dazed, my voice shaky. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he said, grin widening as he pumped himself. “But you’re the one spread out on my chair, leaking like a w***e, and thinking about when you’ll get it again.”
He wasn’t wrong. My legs shook as I slid off the chair, c*m still spilling down my thighs, my ass stinging from both the tattoo and the way he’d f****d me.
I tried to straighten up, but nearly stumbled. He caught me by the arm, steadying me, then leaned in close.
“Don’t pretend you’re not gonna touch yourself the second you get home,” he whispered. “Don’t pretend you’re not gonna dream about my c**k stretching you out again.”
My face burned, my p***y twitching even though I was wrecked.
He grinned, releasing me. “See you soon, sweetheart.”
I staggered toward the door, legs barely holding me, every step making his c*m gush down my thighs. I could feel his eyes on me the whole way, still stroking himself, still hard, like he wasn’t ever done.
By the time I made it into the hallway, I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, laugh, or crawl back inside for more. All I knew was that my body was ruined and I’d never stop thinking about his c**k.
- Writer
