Chapter 71: Strip for Me or Looking from Closer (r-18)

Camilla shoved the shorts down her thighs almost so fast like it was the only thing in her way with touching that thing and kicked them at him seductively; yes there was no thong, no nothing, and he let them hit his chest; he caught them and sniffed where her pussy had sat before her let it fall like they did not deserve a hand.

No it was just her and that fat pretty pussy when the cloth left, and he actually stopped breathing.

And her tits were already out for him and Damon could not pretend he had not been waiting for this angle all night. They sat full and round on her chest, the undersides soft enough to rest on her ribs, a pale crease under each one where the weight lived, nipples dark and standing, areolas wide enough that his mouth would not cover them in one go.

When she breathed they moved.

When she leaned they hung toward him, two warm weights with a deep valley between them, the choker making her throat look even more like something to bite, and Damon made a sound in his throat like he had been punched.

"Jesus Christ. Look at you."

Damon looked down again:

Her cunt sat forward off her body like it had its own weight; a plump mound that did not tuck away between her thighs, outer lips thick and packed shut in a soft kiss down the middle, darker than the skin of her thighs, already shiny from him rubbing on her in the doorway. When she shifted those lips rubbed and a darker wet line opened between them, wet enough that a thin gleam was already running down toward the sheet, and if there was any hair left it was nothing, just smooth fat flesh and that split waiting for him.

Damon stared like he was taking notes.

The outer lips stayed thick even closed, packed enough to kiss each other down the seam, the skin there a shade darker than her thighs and already wet at the bottom where her hole was hiding. The top of that seam was swollen, her clit tucked under the packed kiss but pushing the flesh enough to catch the lamp.

A darker wet line sat in the middle of the split, thicker low, thinner high, and when she breathed the whole plump cunt dented and shone.

Camilla watched his face and smiled, slow and filthy.

"Look at you," she said, soft enough that it was almost a purr. "Like a little scholar. Learning every inch of my pussy."

Damon did not look up; he dragged his thumbs along those thick outer lips and opened her a fraction just to keep reading.

"Yeah," he said. "And I’m going to worship it too like I’m worshipping a goddess’s cunt. Every fold. Every drip. You’re going to feel me pray on this."

He stepped in and filled both hands with her boobs until they pushed at his fingers at how tight they were, squeezed so the flesh pushed up between his thumbs, thumbed her nipples until they tightened more, then bent and dragged his mouth over one. He opened wide and still could not take enough. His tongue flattened the nipple. His teeth scraped the inner curve.

"I watched these through glass. They’re worse up close. They’re sooo perfect."

He sucked one through a groan, then the other, then bit the inner curve just to hear her gasp, the taste of her skin, the way the tit filled his mouth and still left more, and only then did his eyes drop again to what the shorts had been hiding.

From the window it had been a shape, a tease, wet ideas and fantasies but up close it was a problem.

"Fuck. Camilla."

He dropped to a crouch just to look, close enough that his breath hit her pussy and those fat outer lips dented, and the seam twitched until a fresh wet bead pushed out between them and sat there shining.

He put both thumbs on that packed split and opened her slow, and the outer lips were so thick they did not flatten even spread, they stayed plump, and inside was pink and wet and pretty, small inner folds tucked shiny against each other.

Her hole was glossy and already trying to close around nothing, and when he dragged the hood back with the side of his thumb and that dark-pink nub jumped in the air she sucked in a sharp breath and broke on it.

"Ahh—"

His dick kicked in the open air at that sound.

"That’s what you’ve been sitting on at dinner. That’s what you showed me in the shower. It’s fatter than I thought. It’s prettier than I thought."

He leaned in and breathed on her open pussy again, watched her entrance hole wink, watched another thread of wet run from her clit down the inner folds and drip off the bottom of that fat mound onto the sheet, and Camilla’s thighs twitched on the sheet.

"Ohhh... fuck..."

"I’m going to ruin this. Turn around. On your knees."

When she turned on the mattress her ass did the rest of the talking, full cheeks, high and round, a deep split that went dark between them, the undersides soft enough to shake when her knee shifted, a faint crease where each cheek met the back of her thigh. He slapped one side just to watch it move, and the flesh rolled and settled while the clap left a bloom and the cheek rippled down into that undercrease and kept trembling after his hand was gone, and the sound punched out of her throat raw.

"Ah—!"

"Stay like that." He did another slap, lower where ass met thigh, and she moaned into the mattress, louder, like she could not keep it pretty.

"Mmm—ahh—yes—"

He grabbed a handful and the cheek overflowed tightly in his palm and he pulled them apart for a second just looking, the split opening, and from behind her pussy peeked fat and shining between those thick thighs, plump lips squeezed together, the wet middle gleaming, a thread hanging from her hole down toward the sheet, then he let her cheeks fall back together.

"I’ve wanted my hands on this since I started watching you through the window, Camilla."

Damon dragged the ottoman out and sat close, right where her knees would have to open if she wanted him.

"On your back and spread for me, love."

She did it slow, thighs opening, soft inner skin already shiny, that fat cunt parting with them. Halfway she stopped like she wanted him to beg. He did not. He just looked at her pussy until her knees finished the job themselves, and a shaky breath left her when she went all the way open for him.

"Please... look at it..." Camilla moaned in the bed, turned on by the whole thing.

And then it was all there for him, no tease left. The fat mound stayed sitting forward even open. The thick outer lips peeled apart under the pull of her thighs and the inner pink came out shiny, a string of wet stretching from one lip to the other and breaking on her thigh. Her clit stood out of its hood now, wet enough to catch the lamp, and below it her hole sat open a little, glossy, pulsing once like it already knew what was coming.

Damon swore under his breath, then he put his head between her wide legs before she could make it cute.

Camilla’s eyes went wide and made a surprised sound that melted straight into a moan. "Oh—!"

He licked her, a single long pass of his tongue starting at her hole, pushing into that wet pussy then flattening and dragging the whole plump seam until the tip flicked that swollen clit, and she moaned like she had been holding that sound since breakfast, long and broken, her hips jerking up into his mouth.

"Ahhh—fuck—Damon—"

He pulled back just to look again, her pussy plump and swollen under his spit, lips thick enough to kiss each other even wet, clit peeking darker at the tip, her wetness all over his mouth and chin, and a string from her pussy to his lower lip broke on her thigh.

"Look at this thing."

He spread her with both thumbs and just stared, breathing on it, and the lips stayed thick even open, the kind you could suck and still have leftover. Her clit was sitting out now. He flicked it with his tongue and watched her stomach jump, the soft lower belly tightening, her tits shifting on her chest, a high little cry catching in her throat.

"Ahh—ahh—"

Damon sealed his mouth over that clit and sucked, not hard at first, then harder, tongue circling under the hood while he held her open, and Camilla’s voice went messy with it.

"Ohh—yes—yes—suck it—ahh—"

"I used to jerk off to a window on you Camilla. I didn’t know it was this good. I didn’t know it got this wet; you taste otherworldly."

He buried his mouth again, messy, eating the whole plump front of her, not polite about it; his nose pressed to that fat mound, tongue working the split, licking into her until the point of his tongue pushed past those packed lips and found the heat inside, then pulled out shining and went back for her clit.

His chin was soaked with her juice; his mouth made a wet sound every time he sealed on her, and she answered it with her own.

"Fuck—ahh—more—ohh God—more—"

Her hand found his hair and she tried to smash his face back into her cunt, her let her feel the fistful, then pinned her wrist to the sheet and kept eating.