She Tricks Him and Held Down at Last Second For CREAMPIE – Heather Kane

Heather Kane, with her long blonde hair and voluptuous curves, lounged on the plush hotel bed, clad in nothing but a sheer negligee and a mischievous grin. She had just met this hunk of a man, and already she had him wrapped around her little finger. Literally. The game they were playing was simple: she would tease him unmercifully, building him up to the brink of ecstasy, and then pull back at the last possible second before he could find his release.

It was all part of her twisted sense of foreplay. She reveled in the power she held over these men, in the way their bodies responded to her every touch and caress. It was like being a conductor, steering her lover’s passion to a fever pitch – and then yanking away the baton just before the final crescendo.

The man in question, a young college football player looking to sow a few wild oats before graduation, lay prone beneath her, his massive erection throbbing with need. Heather ran her manicured nails down his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs before smirking up at him through her lashes.

“Oh LowerCASE, you’re such a naughty boy,” she purred, her southern drawl dripping with honey. “Getting all worked up like this…” She punctuated her words with a languid roll of her hips against his.

He groaned, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her thighs as he tried valiantly to hold back his impending orgasm. “Please Heather,” he gasped, “I can’t take much more of this!”

“Much more of what, sweetheart?” Heather cooed, knowing full well what he meant. She was a master at this game, and she never let her partners forget it. “Is my sweet little LowerCASE desperate for release?”

“Yes, god yes!” he cried out, his body bucking beneath her as she deliberately rolled her hips in an unbearably teasing rhythm. “I need to cum, Heather, please!”

But instead of giving him what he craved, Heather simply smiled. She reveled in the exquisite torment she was inflicting, the way his face contorted with pleasure and frustration in equal measures.

“You know the rules, baby,” she said, not unkindly. “No milking the cookie until Mama says it’s time.” And with that, she rose up off of him, leaving him laid bare and aching beneath her.

She watched with perverse delight as he desperately tried to ward off his approaching climax, his hands fisting in the sheets and his muscles going taut as a bowstring. She could see the sweat beading on his brow, could hear the ragged breathing tearing out of his throat. The poor dear was absolutely tortured.

And yet, even in his agony, there was a part of him that savored the experience. Heather knew that he wouldn’t trade this – wouldn’t trade her – for anything in the world. Who else but she could make him feel this alive, this hopelessly, helplessly enraptured?

After what felt like an eternity, Heather decided to take pity on him. She knelt once more between his splayed thighs, her negligee offering tantalizing peeks at her heaving breasts, her rosy nipples peeking out from behind the gauzy fabric.

“Alright baby, you’ve been such a good boy,” she purred, stroking his rigid shaft. “Mama thinks you’ve earned a little reward, hmm?”

With that, she positioned herself over him and sank down onto his throbbing cock in one smooth motion. He let out a guttural moan of relief as her slick heat enveloped him, and Heather couldn’t help but smirk at his desperation.

She began to ride him with long, languorous strokes, her hips undulating in sensual circles. She could feel him pulsing inside her, so swollen and hard that she thought he might explode at any moment. And while a part of her wanted to draw this out, to make him wait just a little longer…

…another part of her wanted to give him the release he so desperately craved. Wanted to feel him spilling his seed inside her, wanted to watch those wild, primal eyes glaze over with ecstasy as he finally, finally let himself go.

So she upped the tempo, undulating her hips faster and harder as she rode him. She threw her head back in bliss, her golden tresses spilling down her back as she chased her own pleasure. Her breasts bounced with each hungry thrust, drawing his gaze like a magnet.

“Come for me, baby,” she panted, her walls starting to clench around him. “Fill me up, give me all you’ve got!”

Her words seemed to be the final straw. With a roar of triumph, the young man seized her hips and slammed into her one last time. His big body shuddered violently as he released inside her, hot jets of cum flooding her depths.

Heather cried out in response, her own climax crashing over her in waves of pure bliss. She barely had time to notice when her lover lost his balance and tumbled into the open window, plummeting to the hard pavement below.

By the time the ringing in her ears faded, Heather was already reaching for the cigarette she kept hidden in her purse. Her misty eyes flicked to the broken body lying on the sidewalk far below, and she shrugged.

Collateral damage, she thought with a tired sigh. It happened sometimes, even to the best of players. But the game was worth the risk. It always was.

Blowing out a stream of smoke, Heather turned back to the open window and gazed down at the fallen cyclist. She felt no remorse, no regret. Just a detached sort of bemusement at the waste of a perfectly good lover.

“Maybe next time,” she said under her breath. Then, steadying her nerves, she climbed out the window and began the long descent into the night below.

She was already looking forward to finding the next unwitting pawn in her twisted game. After all, it wasn’t a real life until someone died. Or was it?