The Surprising Allure of Creampies

The Surprising Allure of Creampies

I have a primal desire to be filled up

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I remember a lot of things about giving my first handjob.

I vividly recall the way my boyfriend?s dick looked so stiff and erect. I know the way I stroked it because I didn?t have a clue what I was doing. I was pretty sure I was supposed to move my hand up and down, but that was it.

What I don?t remember is his come.

I know I jerked him to completion and I know he came, but all the other details are fuzzy. I?m sure I must have watched it erupt from the head of his cock and I there must have been a sticky mess to clean up. I can?t imagine that none of it got on my hand.

Still, I can?t remember any of it.

I was excited to get acquainted with cock, so that day is seared into my memory. But everything that had to do with his spunk (on this and subsequent jackoff sessions) died in my short-term memory.

I was already indifferent to ejaculation leading up to that first encounter with an erection. I had regular access to hardcore porn, so I had seen plenty of male performers splatter their stuff everywhere. Money shots didn?t gross me out, but they didn?t turn me on, either. It was just part of the narrative.

Once I entered the world of penetrative sex (or would it be better to say that it entered me?) none of the sex I had did much to change my opinion.

When the guys I fucked came, it meant that the fun was over, usually well before I wanted it to be. It didn?t exactly endear me to ejaculation.

I even dated a guy named Todd who bragged about his sexual prowess by telling me he could come three times before giving his partner an orgasm.

That sounded like a lot of fun for him, but I failed to see why that should excite me.

He delivered on his multi-ejaculatory promise. I was impressed that he had no refractory period, though it did increase the condom budget substantially. It didn?t win me over.

So, when I met and settled down with my future husband, I thought I hit the jackpot. Not only could this man make me come three times (though usually more) before we finished, but he didn?t come at all.

The sex has been great ever since. But a few years ago, I changed my stance on ejaculation. I?m no longer indifferent to it. Now, I have an ongoing but still unfulfilled fantasy of having my husband come inside me.

Getting Knocked Up Made Me a Come Convert

The first time I handled Mr. Austin?s cock, I could tell it was different.

Up here in my corner of Canada, circumcision isn?t all that common, so I was no stranger to foreskin. But his was the first foreskin that was so tight it couldn?t retract (a condition I later learned is known as phimosis).

Through all the handjobs, blowjobs, vaginal intercourse, and anal sex we had together, he never managed to come. I figured the permanently sheathed cock dulled the sensation, so even marathon sessions didn?t result in him reaching a climax.

But he was capable of doing it himself. Left to his own devices and given enough time, he could make himself come.

So, he was capable of ejaculating. I just couldn?t get him there, and neither could any of his exes.

That gave us an armchair diagnosis: death grip.

Probably due to the phimosis, he had developed a very vigorous and idiosyncratic method of masturbation. It was a very precise process that no one else could quite get right (even though I tried and tried).

We worked around it and settled into a comfortable routine where we?d fuck until I couldn?t take it anymore, and then he?d jerk himself off until he came ? on my ass, my thighs, my tits, or himself, depending on my mood.

But then we decided to have a baby, and that complicated everything.

Baby making was a pretty clinical affair to begin with. I tracked my cycle. I took ovulation tests. I had sex when I wasn?t all that horny, just because it was go time.

Working around Mr. Austin?s delayed ejaculation made it feel even less natural.

Fucking until he came inside me wasn?t an option. So, we would have sex for a while, then he would pull out and stroke off. When he was just about to come, he would push his dick back inside me and pump a few times until he had emptied himself.

Instead of impregnating me, it felt like he was inseminating me.

That?s when the fantasies started.

I was so frustrated with how much planning and timing and stress was involved in making a baby that wished I could just have an accidental pregnancy. Instead of the whole rigmarole involved, I dreamed of getting knocked up by my husband because he got so excited he forgot to pull out.

Needless to say, that never happened.

We have four kids, and each were conceived in the same way ? me waiting there with my legs spread, trying to stay wet while he jerks himself until he?s on the verge of coming.

Say what you will, but at least it worked.

We?re done having kids now, and an unplanned pregnancy has turned from a hope to a fear.

But parts of the fantasy remain.

After spending years wishing my husband could just come inside me during sex, I became kind of obsessed with ejaculation.

Creampies, Cumshots, and Overflow

That obsession completely transformed my porn consumption.

I used to watch videos depicting all sorts of sex acts. If it wasn?t lesbian porn, it usually ended with a money shot.

I didn?t always get to that part. If I did, I?d often skip it. (I already skip all the gagging, so I?m no stranger to jumping ahead mid-vid.)

But over the last couple of years, most of my porn watching hours have been filled with come-centric porn.

Instead of skipping the cumshot, I sometimes skip to it.

My Pornhub history is full of blowjobs and handjobs with sticky happy endings.

I subscribed to just about every NSFW subreddit devoted to guys blowing their loads, and I can get off scrolling through nothing but blowjob overflow videos.

Honestly, as long as no one is getting any in their eyes, I find just about any kind of cumshot appealing. But I do have my preferences.

I?m into creampie porn, but not really the close-ups of the dripping aftermath. What I enjoy is the part right before that, when I get to watch a guy grunt and groan while he comes deep inside a woman.

Bonus points if he keeps fucking her, using his come as lube.

And if he comes inside her multiple times, filling her up? That?s the jackpot.

That?s so hot it almost makes me want to look up Todd?s phone number.

It?s not all penetrative sex, though. I?ll watch with rapt attention if I come across a video of a man bringing himself to orgasm by rubbing the head of his cock against a woman?s wet clit and labia. I?ll stare eagerly, waiting for the moment when he comes all over her pussy.

And of course, I?m not above all the other stuff. I?ll watch handjobs and blowjobs that result in ropey splashes of come or dribbling jizz that looks like melting candle wax.

When I?m really impatient and want to get to the point, I?ll line up video after video of premature ejaculation porn.

The teenage girl who couldn?t give a damn about the cumshots at the end of porn scenes is now the woman who can?t get enough of them. And all it took was being married to a guy who couldn?t come inside me.

My Quest to Getting Spunked

I?ve encouraged Mr. Austin to work on both his phimosis and his death grip.

He?s tackling the former by using a steroid cream and stretching his foreskin. The latter he?s taking care of my retraining his grip while masturbating (I?m trying to do my part by making it a couple?s activity).

I?m doing it partly for his sake.

I think of what it?s like when I get really close to having an orgasm, I start praying and hoping that Mr. Austin doesn?t change a damn thing he?s doing.

I don?t want him to move out of position. I don?t want him to change his speed. I sure as hell don?t want him to stop.

That will make all the difference between riding the pleasure train all the way to completion and just getting edged the whole time.

And I?m well aware that?s all I can give my husband. No matter how good the sex is, no matter how wild I get, no matter how much I stroke, suck, and grind, the best I can do is just edge him.

The only release he can get from me is permission to pull out and jerk off.

I want him to experience something better than that. Every guy who gave me boring sex and practically used my body as a sex toy got to experience that physical sensation, while my attentive, multiple orgasm providing husband doesn?t.

But it?s also for me. I?m on a quest to get spunked. I want to make my husband come, preferably in me.

There?s something about making him come inside me that feels so primal. I can?t explain it, but there?s some subrational, animalistic side of me that just wants to get filled by him.

It also feels naughty and taboo. That?s one (but only one) of the reasons I enjoy creampie, cumshot, and swallowing porn. I love knowing I?m getting hot off smut that isn?t very ladylike.

And I want to experience the sensation. I want to feel his cock get stiff right before he comes. I want to feel it twitching as he empties himself inside me. I want to feel him burst because the sensation of sliding in and out of me is just too much for him to handle.

The romantic in me also dreams of a mutual orgasm. We can already achieve that, but we have to be side-by-side, taking matters into our own hands, which really isn?t the same.

Honestly, though, I?d settle for having him come on my tits or drip over my fingers ? as long as I?m the one responsible for getting him there.

I don?t want to make it sound like this is a huge problem or a deal breaker. It?s not. It?s a fantasy ? something I?m hoping we can work our way toward, but not a necessity.

I?ve had sex this way for 15 years and I?ll happily have it that way for 50 more. Making him come would just be the icing on the cake. Or should I say, the cream inside the pie.

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