CREAMPIE CUCKOLD STORY
CUCKOLD STORIES HOME
CREAMPIE

CREAMPIE

  

  

  

  

CREAMPIE STORY - CUCKOLD STORY

  

  

  

CREAMPIE STORY - CREAMPIE CAFE

  

  

Wendell Nebbin locked the door of his car and pressed the button on his keychain to activate the alarm. He looked around nervously. He hated parking on the street in a part of town like this: the black part of town. He considered skipping the appointment, but then remembered that Mr. Roosevelt had paid him rather well for his accounting services so far. Professional ethics demanded that he see things through.

 

He walked slowly down the street, looking for the address of the cafe owned by Mr. Roosevelt. The Sweet Cream Cafe. It should be on this block, but he could see nothing that resembled a restaurant. The address he was looking for belonged instead to "T. Jackson's Athletic Club". Beads of sweat appeared on his brow as he considered the fact that he was a well dressed white man lost in a black neighborhood. He tried to look nonchalant as a group of young blacks dressed in shorts and tanktops wandered noisily past him toward the club entrance. He tried to look like he knew where he was going and walked in the opposite, but slowed again when he realized he was getting farther from his car.

 

"Hey, white bread!", one of them shouted from the steps to the club.

 

Panic came over him as he heard the call. He froze, afraid to turn around.

 

"You lookin' for the cafe?" the same voice asked.

 

Relieved that he was at least on the correct block, Wendell turned. "Y-yes. Yes I am," he called back.

 

"I thought you might be." A smirk came over the young man's face as his friends began laughing among themselves. "It's jus' down that alley on the right there," he pointed, indicating the corner of the building that housed the athletic club.

 

"Th-thank you. I a-appreciate it," replied Wendell moving quickly away.

 

"You enjoy yourself now, y'hear?" shouted the young man with a grin, causing yet another burst of laughter from the others.

 

Wendell ignored them, glad now to at least be on the right track. He turned the corner down the alley indicated and was surprised that the dark, dingy alley could possibly contain a business like a cafe. But, sure enough, he spotted a sputtering neon sign protruding from the side of the building with an arrow that pointed to a nondescript solid door. The neon sign read "Sweet Cream Cafe" over the faded logo of a giant white droplet. It was from an era gone by; alleyway businesses just didn't survive these days. Further proof of the cafe's age was found in the faded sign on the door read, "Whites Only". It must have been a remnant from nearly 50 years ago, he thought; odd that something like that could survive that long in this neighborhood. Shaking his head, he turned the handle and walked on in.

 

Inside, the cafe was a total surprise to him. It was spacious and well lit with rather nice looking tables, chairs, and appointments. It looked like a classic diner setting from any movie: checkerboard tile floor, lunch counter with bar stools, padded red vinyl booths, and even a gaggle of pretty uniformed waitresses wandering around with notepads and pencils behind their ears.

 

Spotting him at the front door, a perky young blonde headed his way and smiled broadly as she approached. "Party of one, I assume?" she asked with an inquiring eyebrow that looked almost ... sultry.

 

"A-actually ..." Wendell was a bit stupefied at her obvious beauty. Her hair was long, straight, and silky. Her ample breasts and small, shapely ass were barely covered by a pink uniform that looked about 2 sizes too small. Her bright red lips curved into a knowing smile as an eyebrow over her too-blue eyes continued to rise as she waited for him to finish his sentence.

 

" .... a-actually, I have an appointment with Mr. Roosevelt to d-discuss a business matter."

 

"Oh! You must be Mr. Nubbin!" she exclaimed with a smile. "I'm -- "

 

"Actually, it's 'Nebbin'," he interrupted.

 

"Of course. As if that's any better. Anyway, I'm Candy, the manager. I was told to expect you. I'm afraid Mr. Roosevelt will be delayed for awhile, but he told me to show you around and answer any questions you might have about how our establishment is run."

 

"W-well, I do have to admit, there are some v-very odd numbers I'd like to discuss. Your receipts are very, very high, but somehow your costs absorb all of your profits and --"

 

"I know, I know. We're a very unique operation. I can see you need to understand a bit more about us, Wendell. Why don't you have a seat over here at the counter and I'll go over things with you."

 

She led him over to the counter and offered him an empty stool between two other patrons. Wendell sat quietly and nodded politely at the others already seated there. He noticed that despite the obvious flavor of the neighborhood, everyone in the cafe was white -- including all the waitresses.

 

"I need to take care of a few things, Wendell, but I'll be right back. You caught us right at the start of the lunch hour, so I'll ask you to be patient. If you'd like anything, Susie here will take care of you."

 

Wendell tried unsuccessfully to peel his eyes away from the view of Candy's lovely posterior as she walked away from him, even failing to look at Susie when he heard her voice.

 

"What can I getcha, hon?" she asked.

 

"Just some coffee, thank you."

 

"We don't serve coffee," she said dryly.

 

"You ... " Wendell finally turned to look the redhead in the face, finding her just as attractive as Candy, in her own way, " ... you don't serve coffee? Excuse me?"

 

Susie's eyes rolled back in her head in a friendly look of exasperation. She grabbed a laminated card from a holder on the counter and set it in front of Wendell. "Here, hon. Look this over and let me know when you're ready."

 

As Susie turned and walked away, Wendell turned his confused look toward the menu and examined it. He found it to be rather brief ... and rather strange.

 

Menu

 

#1 Pie ............ $50 #2 Pie ............ $50 #3 Double Pie ..... $100 #4 Snowball ....... $50

 

Extras:

 

Extra Fresh ....... $25 Chaser w/ Meal .... $25 Chaser a la carte . $50

 

Wendell looked up from the menu with a look of even greater confusion than before. The prices seemed outrageous -- especially for a small diner -- and the descriptions were sorely lacking in detail. He looked around for Candy or Susie to ask some questions.

 

Just then, the door marked "Kitchen" in the back of the diner swung open. A sound of great commotion -- dozens of intermingled, unintelligible voices, laughter, and shrieks -- swept thru the room along with the distinct odor of ... sweat. And something else. The door swung shut again as a young, thin waitress with light brown hair staggered out. She laughed a goodbye to someone inside as she hopped along, pulling a high-heeled pump onto her foot. She feebly tried to arrange her hair, wiped the sweat from her brow, and tried to pull her uniform into some semblance of order.

 

"Wooo! That was a good one," she said absentmindedly to herself and the room. Her heels clicked on the tile as she walked unevenly behind the counter, steadying herself occasionally by leaning on the edge. She past by Wendell without a second glance and approached the man sitting two stools away.

 

"Are ya ready, Ernie?" she giggled.

 

"Y-yes, Lulu. I-I'm always ready for you," the man stammered.

 

"Ok, then. Here ya go. One #1, hot and fresh." With that, she turned around, placed her hands on the counter, and pushed herself up as she jumped. She settled into a special shaped 'lazy susan' than Wendell just noticed was there -- one in front of each stool, as a matter of fact. Lulu then spun herself around on the swiveled seat, swung one leg over Ernie's head, and set both heels into perfectly sized notches in the counter on either side of him.

 

Wendell watched with silent amazement as the short uniform skirt fell back to reveal the spread-open crotch of the waitress. She wore no panties. Her thighs were wet and shiny. The smooth-shaven vaginal lips were covered in a filmy glaze. A thick, white liquid oozed slowly from the opening. Wendell was stunned. That was obviously ... semen. This woman had apparently just had sex and was presenting her womanhood to her customer with another man's ejaculate oozing out of it. He was speechless. He was appalled. He was ... strangely fascinated.

 

Then came the next surprise. Wendell let out an audible gasp when he saw Ernie leaning in and lowering his face toward her crotch.

 

"Ah ah ahhhh," scolded Lulu. Her thighs slammed shut with a wet slapping noise. "You know the rules, Ernie. You gotta pay before you play."

 

Ernie put on an 'aw shucks' look and reached into his pants pockets for a set of folded bills. He passed them up to Lulu without looking at her -- his eyes remained glued to her closed thighs. Lulu accepted the money, examined it quickly, appeared satisfied and re-opened her legs exposing the cum-covered pussy. Ernie lurched forward and dove in to her crotch, making wet slurping noises as he rabidly licked at the oozing white goo.

 

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Wendell in disbelief.

 

"Oooh! He's an eager beaver ... for cummy beaver," giggled Lulu. She pulled at a latch and a back rest rose from behind the counter. She leaned back and closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the attention being given to her dripping snatch. She began to moan softly.

 

Wendell stared open mouthed and wide eyed at the spectacle before him. He looked around at the other patrons, wanting to scream out, 'Can you believe this?!'. But no one else in the cafe had even blinked. In fact, the few other men at the counter simply sat patiently, occasionally looking hopefully toward the kitchen door.

 

As if on cue, the door opened again and another young girl emerged with her hair and clothing in disarray. Before the door closed behind her, Wendell got a better look at the room within. It was lined with grey metal doors which he quickly realized were lockers -- gym lockers. As the gap closed, Wendell could make out a dark skinned male ass pumping up and down between a pair of lily white thighs. The sounds emanating from the room made perfect sense now: There was an all out orgy going on in there.

 

The man on the other side of him perked up and grinned -- this 'order' must be his. Even though he'd just witnessed the same turn of events a moment ago, Wendell was still shocked and amazed as the man quickly surrendered a wad of bills and then turned his attention the the cummy crotch of the young waitress. This particular patron spent more time licking the dripping cum off the girl's thighs, giving Wendell a better view of the quivering mass of pink flesh covered with thick white semen.

 

It was disgusting. It was revolting. It was ... intoxicating. He found himself leaning closer and closer until the back of the man's head rose up to block his view.

 

"Amazing, isn't it?" came a soft voice in his ear.

 

"Huh? Oh!" exclaimed Wendell, surprised to find that Candy had returned and was leaning over his shoulder. "What?"

 

"I said it's amazing how you white boys are so strongly drawn in by a white pussy filled with black man's sperm, isn't it? It's like there's a magnet stuffed up there and your front teeth are made of iron," she said with a smirk.

 

"Oh ... well ... I ... it's just that I've ... I've never seen anything like it!" he said, still exasperated.

 

"I can tell, Wendy, yet you've already got a cute little boner popping up there, don't you?" she giggled.

 

Wendell looked down and found that she was right. He coughed and tugged his suit jacket to cover his lap. He looked around nervously as if he'd just realized his fly was open.

 

"Oh, don't worry, Wendy. It's perfectly natural. You wimpy type white boys just can't help it. The sight and smell of a white pussy pumped to overflowing with hot, gooey black cum is essentially irresistible to you," she explained. "You're no different than any white man here." Wendell looked around the cafe and watched as another 'order' was delivered to another happy customer -- a white customer.

 

"No ... no ... wait. This can't be right. This can't be natural," Wendell whispered in disbelief.

 

"Of course it is, Wendy. No one understands it fully, but there's something about a good solid blackfucking that makes a white woman's pussy draw in wimpy white men like dogs to a bitch in heat." She lowered her voice and slowed down her speech to add emphasis to her words. "Add to that the addictive, musky scent of a black man's cum, and no white man can resist plunging his face into the warm, sticky mixture of pink flesh and spermy white fluid."

 

There was no way Wendell could deny his hardon now. Her descriptions were causing a swelling like he'd never felt before. He thought back to his initial reaction at seeing Lulu spread her legs on the counter. While the shock of it was foremost in his mind at the time, he had to admit now that he definitely felt 'something'. Something about the sight ... and the scent was attractive. Sexually attractive. And he still felt it as his eyes were glued to the sight of the man's head next to him nestled between the slim white thighs. Subconsciously, Wendell's hand reached down to the tent in his pants and gave it a squeeze. Absolutely. There was no doubt about it. It was sexually attractive.

 

Wendell heard an odd metallic scrape, then a whoosh. Next, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his hand. He snapped back to reality with the realization that Candy had just smacked his hand with a spatula retrieved from the counter.

 

Candy leaned in and said in a angry whisper, "Listen, Wendy. I know this is your first time here, but we do have rules. This is a respectable establishment and I will NOT have a bunch of white boys fondling their disgusting little weenies, do you hear me?"

 

"Y-yes, ma'am," replied Wendell instinctively, shaking his stinging hand.

 

"That's better. Now, you're obviously interested in our menu selections. Would you like to try something while you wait for Mr. Roosevelt?" Candy asked, smoothly returning to her sweet demeanor.

 

Wendell looked around the room again. By now, there were four faces buried between the thighs of moaning waitresses. Four white men sucking black sperm from the crotches of young white women. It seemed so wrong. But it seemed so right ... for reasons he couldn't explain. The door to the kitchen swung open again as a tall young brunette staggered out. As it swung closed, Wendell spotted one of the muscular young black men from the street. He could hear the sound of flesh slapping against flesh as he mounted a pretty blonde from the rear. The look of ecstasy on her face was exquisite.

 

He turned to Candy, looked her in the eye and softly said, "Yes. I think I'd like that."

 

 

 

"Wonderful!" squealed Candy. She signaled to the tall brunette. "Trixie, what order have you got?"

 

"A number one ... for Wally down there," the breathless girl replied, clearing the strands of hair from her sweat covered brow.

 

Candy turned and called down the counter, "Wally, I've got a first timer here. Would it be ok if I intercepted your order?"

 

The face that had been looking eager and excited at the prospect of getting Trixie's thighs wrapped around his head suddenly fell. He licked his lips nervously and replied, "Well, um ... actually, I ..."

 

"I'll deliver it myself, Wally. And how about we throw in a free chaser?"

 

Wally brightened visibly. "Oh ... Ok! That would be g-great. Thanks, Candy."

 

Trixie hopped onto the counter and swung around to assume what Wendell now understood to be the standard position. On the shaved patch of skin above her clitoris where the hair would normally grow was a neatly printed script tattoo that read 'Black Cock Only'. Her puffy, cum spattered pussy lips lay just in front of him. He most definitely felt the attraction -- the irresistible attraction -- that Candy referred to and started to lean forward, his mouth watering. Then he heard Candy's voice:

 

"Now as you've heard, Wendy, we require payment in advance. You've seen the prices on the menu, right?"

 

"Y-yes," replied Wendell, reaching for his wallet, but never removing his eyes from Trixie's crotch. He glanced down briefly to pick out a $50 bill from the sheaf of bills inside. As he refolded his wallet, Candy said quietly, "Um ... Wendell. The 'meal charge' is paid in full to the black stud who ... uhh, 'filled' your order. Don't forget to tip Trixie here for delivering it to you in such a nice manner."

 

"Oh ... of course," said Wendell as he fished out a additional $10 bill.

 

Candy cleared her throat and muttered into his ear, "Wendy ... a 100% tip for the waitress is customary."

 

Wendell looked at Candy with a surprised look. "100%? That seems a bit ..."

 

Candy just looked at him and tipped her head to gesture at Trixie's crotch. Wendell looked again at the shiny skin and pink, goo-covered folds of flesh. He put the bills back in his wallet, pulled out a crisp $100 bill, and handed it over to Candy.

 

"I'm paying a black man for the privilege of eating his semen, aren't I?" he asked as his gaze returned to Trixie's spermy snatch. His tone was that of both realization and acceptance of what he was about to do.

 

Candy handed the bill over to Trixie. "I'm glad you understand our system, Wendy. This example will help answer some of the questions you had regarding our pricing structure. I know it seems expensive, but a black man's got the right to be compensated for his sperm .. especially if it's not going to be used for its proper function of actually impregnating a white wom--"

 

Candy stopped talking when she realized that Wendell was no longer listening. His face was buried between Trixie's thighs and the soft squeals coming from her throat told Candy that Wendell's tongue was snaking up inside her reaching for the thick liquid treasure that lay within.

  

  

Creampie Story - Creampie Cafe part 2

©  Cuckold Stories  Navigation:

  

Cuckold husbands   |  Cuckold Movies  |  Cuckold husband stories  |  Slut Wife Stories  |  Creampie  |  Creampie cuckold  |  Forced BI  |  Hot wife  |  Dominant wives  |  Mistress wife  |  Submissive male  |  Cuckoldress  |  Forced chastity  |  Chastity slave  |  Tease and denial  |  Cock teasing  |  Sissified - Sissy  |  Humiliated cuckold husband  |  Cuckold stories  |  Slut wife 2  |  Slut wife marriage  |  Stories by authors  |  Updates of cuckold stories  |  Picture stories  |  Real cuckold  |  Femdom