Chapter 70: Real Me or My Dirty Little Secret (r-18)

He did it again on purpose.

"I have watched you through your window. Almost each night." He kissed her neck, open-mouthed, under the choker and licked the line of it, then sucked until her skin warmed under his teeth. "I have been like a helpless peeping Tom knowing I would never get you."

The choker moved when she swallowed. He felt it with his mouth.

He kissed her mouth again. His hand left her ass just long enough to cup one tit through the hoodie, the crop top doing nothing, the weight of her filling his palm, the nipple already a hard point under the cloth.

He squeezed until the soft flesh spilled between his fingers, then thumbed the nipple in tight circles.

He bent and put his mouth on it through the fabric, sucked, and said against her chest:

"The thought of having you like this, fucking you even if it’s through your clothes, makes me want to go insane." He switched tits.

He bit the other nipple through the hoodie.

Spit darkened the cloth making her breast jump in his mouth when she breathed so deep.

"I now have you Camilla!"

He slapped her ass.

It was not cute but a real smack that made the cheek jump in the shorts. She gasped. He rubbed the sting, then slid his fingers between her legs from the front and found her pussy through the cloth, fat and hot, the shorts already damp where he had been riding her.

His eyes went wide from feeling her pussy with his hands, although he worked hard to keep his cool:

So he instead opened those plump lips with two fingers through the fabric and rubbed the wet line between them. The shorts clung onto her pussy; now the mound sat forward in his hand.

’Too much pussy for such a small pair.’

He stroked that plump slit while he thrust between her thighs.

When he pulled the seam tight it showed everything, the fat lips printed in the fabric, a wet line down the middle. The print was obscene as two full lips, a deep split, the clit a hard little bump at the top.

He hooked the seam and sawed it against her until her hips chased his hand.

"I want you to take my first time, Camilla. That’s not a request." He slapped her ass again.

He did another grind. "I want to fuck you so mercilessly. I want my Camilla, mother’s assistant, to take her son’s virginity." He kissed the other tit through the hoodie, then her collarbone, then the corner of her mouth. "And then one time you’re going to touch yourself for me."

She answered like a beast, not an assistant; she grabbed his jaw and kissed him dirty, all tongue, then shoved her tit back into his mouth and rolled her covered cunt on him until his knees went stupid.

She caught his wrist before he could walk her.

She sat Damon on the edge of the bed instead and stood over him, shorts still on, and rubbed that covered cunt along his dick until his hands were shaking on her hips.

He watched her.

He had asked her to take his first time, so she took the start.

The hood fell back when he fisted her hair.

Damon stood up and making her sit and he went between her knees and started thrusting lazy strokes with his cock along that covered cunt but never entering, still squeezing one cheek, still praising the other tit with his mouth. Her fat pussy sat on him like it was trying to swallow the tip through cloth.

Camilla reached down and spread her own pussy lips through the shorts, and rubbed his head right on the wet middle.

He pushed her knees wider and looked down at the mess; the shorts were soaked, her pussy had bloomed in them, plump and shining, the seam lost between her lips.

He spat on the cloth and rubbed it in with the head of his cock.

"What?" she breathed, like she was seeing him for the first time. "Damon—"

"Surprised this is me?" He grinned and honest. "Guess what, Camilla. This is the real me. And you’re the first one to ever see this me." He pulled her shorts seam tight against her pussy so she could feel how fat she was in his hand. He shook that handful of her, the plump mound wobbling in the wet fabric.

"You’re going to be my dirty little secret. And I know you like me. I know you want me to fuck you too. Hard."

She yanked the hoodie up over her tits and fed one into his mouth bare; it was so big, warm, the nipple tight on his tongue. He sucked and she cursed into his hair. Her other hand shoved his pants lower so his cock slapped up against her soaked crotch, skin to wet cloth.

She turned in his hold, bent, and pulled the shorts aside herself, just aside: "Watch what you peeped on, Damon."

He looked. He let her say it and did not shush her.

Her pussy was fat for real, puffy lips pushed out of the shorts, inner pink wet and shining, the hole twitching when the air hit it. He put his thumb on her clit and his tongue in her mouth at the same time.

She jerked and sat that wet heat on the underside of his cock, grinding her open slit along him without taking him in. He also did not let her lock the whole night. His hands went back to that ass. His mouth went back to her tits.

"You’re such a good assistant, Camilla, say it," he told her.

"Your mother’s assistant." She said it.

She squeezed her thighs around him when he praised her chest so he would feel it. He spanked her again and used the sting to pull her cheeks apart, then rubbed the head of himself through her wetness until she was shining from clit to hole.

Camilla did not pretend.

She had already blown him under a family table.

If that was not confirmation, nothing was.

Permission was a turn-off and she did not need him asking.

She needed him taking, taking her.

So he did not hold back a single dirty word, not one thing he had wanted to do to this body for years and all day now.

’No insulting both of us the... Just the beast.’

He pushed her in the bed and kissed down her stomach. Bit the inside of one thigh. Licked the fat print of her through the shorts, then the bare pussy where she had pulled them aside, slow filthy strokes through her folds until her hips lifted.

She grabbed his hair and rode his mouth for three mean seconds, then yanked him up and kissed her own taste off his tongue.

He pushed her back on the bed, hoodie riding up, shorts cutting into the round of her ass, that hot pussy printed against the fabric, and put his mouth on her like the lock on the door was the only law left in the house.

"Stay on the bed."

It did not come out like an order but hunger with manners, and Camilla was already there, already topless, already sitting where he wanted her with that choker still locked around her throat and her shorts the last stupid thing between him and everything else.

"I want you naked, Camilla. Shorts off. Strip for me."

He was already tearing his own clothes off while he said it, shirt yanked over his head, pants shoved down his hips, nothing underneath and by the time her hands found her waistband he was bare in front of her and there it was, that fucking thing, standing off him:

Right in her face.

The Primordial Rod was thick and mean; a fat column of him from the dark thatch at the base to a blunt wet head that still shone from her feet at dinner, and veins that ran the whole length, some thick enough to feel under a hand, branching and disappearing under the stretched skin. It did not bounce and just hung and lifted and heavy enough to look stupid on an eighteen-year-old and somehow it was the most captivating sight she knew so far.

’He looks... otherworldly!’

The head was also round and bigger than the shaft, already leaking a slow bead that slid down one side, and Camilla did not hide the way looked at his dick like she wanted it in her throat, hungry, open, no assistant left in that face, just a woman staring at meat while her mouth stayed parted and her tongue wet her lower lip and her eyes followed that bead down the shaft like she wanted to catch it on her tongue.

She reached for it first with her fingertips greedy, and her nails grazed the wet head and came away shining before he caught her wrist, and his grip was not polite.

"I said strip, Camilla. Then you can touch me however I let you to."