Susie Cream Cheese: EZ to Spread!

by Arthur Kay

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Heterosexual, Group Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Water Sports, .

Desc: Sex Story: You've probably never heard of Susan Wills. For, indeed, in the past ten years or so she's kept a very low profile. In spite of having had sex with over 1,500 men from coast to coast. When I met her and we became lovers, her stories curled my hair! What a woman! Insatiable beyond my imagination. God, how I loved Susie Cream Cheese! She had the art of getting men into bed, without tarnishing her reputation, without getting murdered by some madman, down to a science. What a woman!

WARNING: This story is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now. Any resemblance between this story and a real event is purely coincidental. The participants are imaginary; their actions have no negative consequences other than those portrayed in the story. The story is intended for entertainment only and should not be emulated in the real world.

You've probably never heard of Susan Wills. For, indeed, in the past ten years or so she's kept a very low profile. In spite of having had sex with over 1,500 men from coast to coast.

None of these guys knew, or know, her real name, either. They knew her by her self-imposed nickname, Ms. Susie Cream Cheese. She'd tell the men, when they naturally inquired about her odd name, "I'm the girl who's easy to spread! Just like cream cheese. Only a lot tastier!"

And spread her they did, over and over, this brown-haired, brown-eyed cutie. She stood 5' 5" in stocking feet and hadn't an ounce of fat anywhere on her shapely frame. Her breasts were perfectly formed, the nipples large and so sensitive they'd be called perky by anyone with any sense whatsoever.

Add a mouth that looked perfect for kissing (or sucking on something), an ass that jutted out in a twin bubble pattern, and you can see why most men would have the hots for her. I know I did. That's how I got her whole true and unvarnished story.

But she wasn't always known as Susie Cream cheese, no sirree.

In high school, the most a fella got from Susie was a titty feel or, if he was a really good boy, a quick handjob. Her pussy was off limits, Charlie, make no mistake about that. Susie was too concerned about her reputation in the neighborhood to go beyond a five-fingered assist.

In college, and far from her home turf, Susie had let herself have a tad more leeway. Leeway enough, you might say, to have her cherry popped. By a bumbling and fumbling nerdy type who answered to the name of Calvin Chauncy Cooler. Three Cee to his friends and Cee Cee or Cally to his family.

Now, what Three Cee, or Cee Cee, or Cally, take your pick, lacked in sexual finesse, he made up for by having just enough pecker length to bust her hymen. For keeps, dontcha know. And old Cee Cee, at twenty years young, admitted to her that he had just lost his virginity, too. You could say they shared the moment. And a cigarette, too. But not the future. For Susie dropped him quicker than you could say, ahem, Three Cee, or Cee Cee, or Cally. Take your pick.

Now, don't you go thinking that this mismatched coupling was an accident of fate or a sperm of the moment thing. Oh, no! This was a planned fucking by a master planner. Susie knew Calvin was controllable, being such a nerd and all, could do what was necessary, and wouldn't put up much of an argument when she lowered the boom on him. And she was right. Old Cal simply moved on, sorrier for doing so, but with at least one real fuck under his belt and to his personal credit.

Susie loved the freedom that being at college gave her and, with her hormones raging up a storm, intended to take full advantage of the situation. But first she needed to protect herself from getting pregnant. A thought brought to scary light when her next period after her Calvin fiasco was a few days late. So she tried a diaphragm. It was awkward and putting it in killed the passion of the moment somewhat, but she knew it was a necessity.

Now, being a master planner, Susie didn't go slam-banging into the college world, fucking here and there without regards for her personal space. Oh, no, she chose her men very carefully and, you guessed it, they were all the nerdy type. Men who, if they chose to spread nasty rumors about her, had very little chance of being believed.

And, proceeding slowly, she let only three such men try out her new diaphragm thingy. Once each, but no more. She was finding her way and testing things out. They could have used her patience and planning abilities for the Normandy invasion in World War two.

Then along came birth control pills and the sexual revolution. Well, lordy, lordy, you could measure the speed of light by how fast she got a prescription and had it filled. Susie felt, at the time, that mankind had introduced the pills and the new sexual attitudes with her specifically in mind. As she had said to her roomie, more than once, "A pill a day let's you fuck away! Hooray! Hooray!"

Susie tested the pill's efficacy on eight nerdy men in such rapid succession their heads are probably still spinning today when merely thinking about their encounters with her. But then, wouldn't you know it, she fell in love. The head over heels kind of love. And with the eighth nerd, no less.

His name was Gregory Wills. He was nerdy, to be sure, but somehow he seemed less so to a girl in love. Oh, yeah, he wore thick, horn-rimmed glasses, a nerdy-nerdy pocket protector, and funny, ill fitting, out of fashion clothing, but he was also tall and nicely built. Throw an 8" + boner with the ability to use it quite well into the mix and--voila! Love. Or close enough to it.

Thus far I've omitted any reference to oral sex, or as you pervs say, cocksucking and pussy eating. You see, Susie, in a decidedly prudish vein, was saving her mouth, and its sweet potential, for the man of her dreams. Silly goose!

While she had fantasized about sucking a dick, had even read up on technique, and had discussed the subject in great detail with her roommate, Willa, thus far the only thing to enter her mouth in oral giving fashion was a practice banana now and then. With the skin on, naturally.

Since, as they say, practice makes perfect, Susie was soon able to deep-throat the biggest bananas available from the supermarket. If 10" bananas could talk, they'd undoubtedly say to the rest of the yellow bunch, "Whatta mouth, whatta throat!"

That was the exact words that gushed out of Greg the first time she sprang her oral talents on him. He yelled them out just a few seconds before he blasted her mouth with his nerdy cum. A taste that Susie found to be unbelievably delicious.

Whether it was her love for Greg or not, the session firmly established two truisms in her brain: She loved sucking cock and she loved swallowing cum. Even more than actual fucking, which she found to be okay, but nowhere near as pleasant as a cock in the mouth. And her orgasms while sucking away were more intense than the ones she got from mere screwing

Whatever her sexual likes, she and Greg fucked and sucked like rabbits, right up to, and through, their elopement one fine weekend. One of those four-day long weekends. The B&B the Wills' honeymooned at had a marriage suite and the two of them saw nothing else the whole time there. To Susie, her Greg was an animal who matched her thrust for thrust. The new Mrs. Wills was in cum heaven.

However, heaven lasted only three months. Then Greg started getting tired. Very tired. Holding down a part-time job and with classes and all, the poor boy was whipped all the time. He'd come home to the little room they had rented over someone's garage and just collapse on the couch. He called it playing blob. "I'm bushed, baby, I just want to play blob tonight and watch some TV. OK?"

No, it was not OK. Not by a long shot and certainly not to a recently wedded hot and horny gal. Naturally, argument after argument ensued and the marriage went quickly on the old friggin' rocks of divorce. Goodbye, Greg, it's been fun, but I got some serious fucking to do. That, she told me, was loosely in her thoughts at the time.

Well, once again free, she fiddled around with a handful of guys here and there, with her heart not fully in it, until graduation day. She wasn't out of college even a week when she landed a job at a manufacturer of women's clothing. Right in the heart of the silk stocking district of New York City. As a trainee in the sales department.

She learned quickly and, with her natural planning talents, was promoted to assistant buyer in less than a year. She had found her career niche in life.

But, naturally, she still had volatile hormones and they spoke to her each and every day. "You need some fucking and sucking, girl!" they seemed to scream out. "So, go and get you some before someone else uses it all up." She wanted to, badly, but she had just finished reading Judith Rossner's "Looking For Mr. Goodbar" and it had thrown a fitful scare into her.

This allegedly true story of a plain Jane schoolteacher who trolls the seedy singles bars at night looking for sex only to die at the hands of a psychopathic killer, well, it was just too vivid and horrifying to Susie. A girl had to be careful.

When the movie came out, with Diane Keaton as the schoolmarm, Tom Berenger as the loony, and Tuesday Weld as her sister, Susie resisted going to see it. But when she learned that Richard Gere, that hunky hunk of a hunk, was also in it, she weakened and went to see it... with a girlfriend, of course.

The movie hammered the point home, even more so than the book, that a horny girl could get her ass killed... in a heartbeat... by indiscriminate sex with total strangers.


Unless the playing field, the sex arena, could be controlled somehow. That eliminated singles bars of any stripe. Too dangerous by their very open nature, their willingness to let all and anyone pass through their doors. They made no attempt to (how could they and why should they?) keep out the riffraff, the hoi polloi and, most assuredly, your everyday run-of-the-mill psychopathic or sociopathic maniac.

.... There is more of this story ...

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