Creamed #7
"Do it," Ollie moaned, pushing his ass back into each thrust. "Do it—don't stop!"
JJ slammed into Ollie’s ass until his whole body locked.
The fire climbed up his sweaty, cream-slicked thighs and explode at the base of his spine, and JJ threw his head back and roared.
“FUCK!” JJ cried out.
The first blast of cum hit deep inside Ollie's ass—a hot, pulsing injection followed by a spreading warmth that flooded his insides.
Then another.
And another.
Each shot surged through JJ's cock and painted Ollie's insides with thick, sticky cum, filling him in hot, rhythmic pulses the way the pastry injector had filled those cream puffs earlier that morning—only now, it was JJ's body doing the pumping, and Ollie's body taking every drop of gooey thick cream in his tight hole.
“Fuck!” JJ roared again and again as his cock throbbed wildly, each hard pulse of cum blasting deep against Ollie’s inner walls.
They ground together through the aftershocks—JJ still buried to the hilt, his cock twitching and pulsing, cum seeping from the tight seal of Ollie's stretched asshole around his shaft and dripping down between their thighs, mixing with the pie cream and sweat already pooling on the floor.
They stayed like that for a long time.
JJ's forehead pressed against the back of Ollie's neck. Ollie's palms flat on the counter. Both of them breathing like they'd just finished the hardest race of their lives.
When JJ finally pulled out, the wet slide of his cock leaving Ollie's body drew a shudder from both of them.
Cum escaped down Ollie's inner thigh in a warm, lazy trickle, and his hole flexed and clenched involuntarily—open, sore, used and dripping.
Ollie's legs buckled.
He grabbed the counter and laughed—a real, breathless, slightly unhinged laugh that surprised both of them.
JJ gave Ollie's ass cheek a sharp, playful smack. "Freshly-made cream pie, bro."
Ollie sank to the floor, his back against the counter, and felt JJ's cum seeping from him onto the already-ruined surface beneath him.
He stared at the carnage—the overturned pies, the cream-coated steel, their discarded underwear crumpled in a corner, the two of them naked and sticky and wrecked in every possible way.
JJ slid down beside him, their bare shoulders touching.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The generator hummed. The A/C unit wheezed. Outside, the lake caught the first amber light of the dropping sun and thankfully, the air was cooling and growing breezy.
"You good?" JJ asked, quieter than Ollie had ever heard him.
Ollie nodded. Then a slow grin split his face.
"I'm just thinking about how many more cream pies you can get in me before sunset,” Ollie grinned.
JJ's eyes widened.
Then he laughed—a full, warm, genuine laugh that Ollie had never heard from him before—and nudged Ollie's shoulder with his own.
"Challenge accepted," JJ said.
They sat together in the wreckage of the truck, watching the sun inch toward the treeline through the serving window, and for the first time all summer, neither of them wanted to be anywhere else.
It was going to be a long, sticky, cream-filled summer—for reasons vastly different than either of them had expected.