Celebrity Story Site
Stories & Art => Celebrity Stories => Actors & Actresses => Topic started by: TheLW on February 11, 2026, 06:48:32 PM
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Carnival Quickie
With Paris Berelc
Written by TheLW
Codes: MF, Fingering, Public
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.
I couldn’t believe my luck when Paris Berelc wrapped her arms around my neck like she never wanted to let go. Her body pressed tight against mine, that tiny pink crop top hugging her tits so close I could feel every breath she took. The short argyle skirt, pink and green diamonds, rode up just enough to tease what was underneath, and those white crew socks made her legs look endless as we walked away from the ice cream kiosk, my hands gripping her waist hard, fingers digging in because I needed to feel her right then.
We’d been teasing each other all damn afternoon. Every time she spun on a ride, that skirt flipped up and gave me a flash of lace. She knew it too, brushing against me on purpose, bending over for cotton candy just to watch my eyes follow her ass. By the time we hit the ice cream stand, the air between us was something else.
I handed her the cone and she didn’t play innocent. She licked that vanilla swirl slow as fuck, eyes locked on mine, letting it drip down her fingers. “Oops,” she purred, voice low and dirty, then pressed those sticky fingers straight to my lips. I caught her wrist, sucked them clean, tongue swirling around each one while I stared her down. That was it, the switch flipped.
We ducked behind the stand fast, into that narrow shadowed alley where the carnival music drowned out everything else. I backed her against the rough wooden wall, one hand shooting up under her skirt to grab her ass hard. She gasped loud when I squeezed. The skirt bunched up around her hips in no time. I hooked my fingers in the sides of her tiny thong and yanked it down her thighs, letting it drop to her ankles. She stepped out of it quickly, eyes flashing with desire.
Before she could say anything, I snatched the damp thong off the ground, balled it up, and stuffed it straight into her mouth. Her eyes widened for a second, then she moaned around the fabric, muffled and needy, tasting herself on it. Fuck, that sight alone almost made me lose it.
“You’ve been driving me fucking insane in this all day,” I growled against her neck.
Paris arched right into me, grinding her bare pussy against the bulge in my jeans like she was starving for it. Her hands were everywhere, one yanking at my zipper, the other still holding that melting cone. She tried to smirk around the thong gag, then smeared cold vanilla across my collarbone with the cone, dragging it slow. But with her mouth stuffed, she couldn’t lick it off properly, she just pressed her tongue flat against the fabric, muffled whimpers escaping as she tasted the mix through the gag, spit starting to soak the thong.
I shoved my fingers straight to her swollen cunt, rubbing tight circles. Paris moaned into the thong, legs spreading wider, one foot hooking behind my calf to pull me closer. I pushed two fingers deep inside her, she clenched hard, rocking desperately on my hand. She tried to beg for more, but it came out garbled around the stuffed fabric.
She got my cock out, stroking me firm and fast, hand working me like she’d been dying to touch it. The risk was insane, anyone could walk by, but that only made me harder. Her skirt hiked up obscenely, my jeans shoved down, bodies slamming together.
I lifted her up easily, her legs wrapping around my waist. One hard thrust and I buried myself balls-deep in her tight, wet pussy. She gasped around the thong, back scraping the wall. Then I started pounding into her, long, deep thrusts that filled her up completely. She moaned loud through the fabric, hands clawing my shoulders, nails biting through my shirt.
The alley was cramped, shitty, uncomfortable as hell, but we didn’t give a fuck. Every slam echoed, her muffled moans bouncing off the wood, my grunts matching. Skin slapping wet and loud.
I kept the pace steady at first, grinding deep, letting her feel every inch sliding in and out slowly then hard. She rocked her hips to meet me, pussy clenching tighter with each thrust. The cone had dropped when I lifted her, half-melted vanilla pooling on the ground. I reached down, scooped some sticky cream onto my fingers, and smeared it across her exposed cleavage, watching it drip down between her tits, making the crop top cling wet and see-through over her hard nipples.
Paris whimpered around the gag, head tilting back against the wall as I fucked her harder. I alternated speeds every now and then, slow, teasing pulls out almost all the way, letting the head drag over her entrance, then slamming back in full force, bottoming out every time. Her vaginal walls fluttered, gripping me like a vice. Sweat slicked our skin, mixing with the vanilla smell and her dripping arousal running down my balls.
I flipped her around suddenly, pressing her front to the wall, ass out. Skirt still bunched high, I spread her cheeks and thrust back in from behind, a new angle hitting deeper, brushing that spot that made her legs shake. She braced her hands on the wood, muffled cries getting louder as I pounded relentlessly. One hand snaked around to rub her clit in fast circles while I railed her, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise.
Her body trembled, building fast. I didn’t let up, thrust after thrust, skin slapping louder, her pussy soaking my cock, dripping down her thighs onto the dirty ground. I felt her start to shake again, walls throbbing hard. She came hard this time, body convulsing, muffled scream choking through the gag as she soaked us both, thighs quivering.
I spun her back around, lifted her legs higher, folding her almost in half against the wall for even deeper access. Pounding faster now, chasing my edge while she clawed at me, eyes rolling back, still gagged and moaning nonstop through the soaked thong.
I kept going, drawing it out, slow grinds mixed with hard slams, making her take every inch over and over. Her muffled sounds turned desperate, needy, spit dripping from her chin around the gag. Finally I couldn’t hold back. I drove in deep one last time, groaning rough as I came, pumping hot cum inside her until it leaked out around my cock, mixing with her wetness and running down her legs.
I pulled the thong out slow, strings of spit connecting it to her swollen lips. She gasped for air, voice wrecked and hoarse. “That was… intense,” she panted, head resting on my shoulder, body still trembling.
I grinned down at her, still buried inside, cock twitching with aftershocks. “Intense? Baby, you got no idea.”
We fixed our clothes quickly, her skirt smoothed down, thong tucked in my pocket for later, my jeans zipped, then stepped out and blended back into the thinning crowd like nothing happened. Nobody looked twice.
The End