Chapter 78: Exhibitionistic? (R18) (Buy Privilege Please)

Kyle kept driving up into her against wall. Stacy’s legs stayed locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as every upward thrust forced soft, punched-out moans from her throat. Wetness coated his cock and dripped between them onto the entryway floor.

*ghah- kh-*

He shifted his grip under her thighs, adjusted his stance, and carried her deeper into the house without pulling out. Her back left the wall. She made a small surprised sound against his mouth as he walked them through the living room and into the kitchen, still buried inside her. The change in angle made her clench around him.

"Counter," he muttered, voice rough.

He set her down on the edge of the kitchen island, never fully leaving her. Stacy’s hands braced behind her for balance as he pushed her thighs wider and folded her legs up toward her chest. The new position let him sink deeper. He braced one hand on the counter beside her hip and started fucking her in earnest again—strong, steady strokes that made the wet *schlick-plap* of their bodies echo through the quiet kitchen.

Stacy’s head tipped back. Her dark hair spilled across the countertop. "Fuck—Kyle—this angle—"

He didn’t answer with words. He just kept the pace, the pill keeping his stamina high and relentless. Thick cream already frothed around his shaft and dripped down onto the cabinet doors. Stacy’s legs trembled against his shoulders. Her mouth stayed open in a continuous stream of broken, high moans.

Something in him snapped.

He pulled out with a wet sound, grabbed her by the waist, and dragged her off the counter. Stacy barely had time to protest before he spun her around, bent her over the edge, and slammed back in from behind in one hard thrust.

*PLAP—*

"AHH—!"

Kyle locked both hands on her hips hard enough to leave fingerprints and started driving into her without restraint. There was no careful rhythm now just deep, punishing thrusts that drove him as far as her body would take. The wet slap of skin on skin turned loud and constant.

"Take it," he snarled, low and guttural. "Every fucking inch."

"AHH-"

"ARHG- FUCK ME!"

Stacy could only cry out with each impact. Her cheek pressed against the cool counter, eyes half-lidded, mouth open. Every thrust forced more cream out of her in messy strands that ran down her thighs. The lewd wet sounds filled the kitchen.

Kyle leaned over her, chest against her sweaty back, and kept going. One hand slid up, tangled in her dark hair, and pulled her head back so she had to arch.

"You love this," he growled against her ear. "Getting used like this."

"Y-yes—ahh—don’t stop—" Stacy’s voice cracked, still recognizably hers even through the wrecked moans.

That was when he noticed it clearly.

Every time his eyes flicked toward the smart glasses still recording on his face, her pussy fluttered tighter around him and a fresh rush of wetness spilled out. She had glanced at them earlier when he’d carried her in—just a quick, heated look—and now every time the lenses caught her face or the place they were joined, her body reacted harder.

A realization settled in.

She wasn’t only getting off on the rough sex but she was also getting off on being recorded.

On knowing the glasses were capturing every second of her bent over the counter, taking him like this.

Kyle’s grin turned sharp.

"Oh... I get it," he muttered, slamming into her harder, the wet *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* almost continuous.

"You love knowing these are still on. Love knowing that everyone will she how much of whore you are for me..."

"You exhibitionistic bitch!"

Stacy’s entire body shuddered. A broken, high moan tore out of her and her walls clenched hard around him.

"Fuuuck—yes—keep them on—show it—" she cried, completely shameless now. "We always film... don’t stop filming—"

Consent was already there. They had filmed together last week. She knew the glasses were rolling. She wanted them rolling.

"That’s it, isn’t it?" he said, one hand still in her hair while the other reached around and rubbed her swollen clit in rough circles.

"Being shown. Turned into content while you get fucked like this. You want people to see exactly how wet this pussy gets."

"YES—AHH—I want it—"

Kyle straightened, gripped both of her ass cheeks, and drove into her with everything the pill gave him. His hips moved in a hard, relentless thrusts. He fucked her deep enough that the head of his cock pressed firmly against her cervix on every stroke, the contact sharp and intense without pushing past it.

"I’m going to fill you," he growled through clenched teeth and tightly on her hairs.

"Pump you so full it’ll be leaking out of you for days."

Stacy was almost gone—eyes rolled, mouth open in a silent scream that kept breaking into high animal sounds every time he bottomed out. Her pussy made those thick, wet *glck-schlick* noises with every thrust as cream tried and failed to stay inside.

Between one deep thrust and the next she forced words out, voice cracked and desperate:

"I’m not—ahh—on my birth control today—I skipped it—I want it—fill me—please fucking fill me—"

The confession hit him like a second drug.

She wasn’t protected. She was asking for it. She wanted his cum as deep as it could go with nothing stopping it.

His control shattered.

"You asked for it," he snarled, slamming into her harder, the wet impacts turning savage.

"I’m going to dump every drop so deep you’ll feel it for hours."

"Muff-- AFF!"

Stacy screamed in pure ecstasy at the words. Her pussy clamped down like a vice. Kyle felt the orgasm building heavy and inevitable, rooted deep from the enhancement and the raw knowledge that she was unprotected and begging. He didn’t slow. He fucked her through it, treating her body like it existed for this exact purpose.

"Take it—take every fucking drop—grhh"

He slammed in to the root one final time and came with a guttural roar. Thick ropes of cum pulsed inside her, flood after flood, filling her until it had nowhere left to go.

"Ahh—! Fuuuck—Kyle—!" Stacy cried out, voice cracking as she felt herself being packed full. Her cunt spasmed weakly around him, milking every pulse, her whole body jerking with each heavy spurt.

"So—so much—ahh—"

Kyle kept his cock buried to the hilt, grinding against her cervix as the last spurts left him. When it finally stopped he still didn’t pull out. He stayed locked deep inside her, breathing hard, watching the excess already starting to leak out around his shaft in thick white rivulets that ran down her trembling thighs and dripped onto the kitchen floor in messy puddles.

Stacy was shaking hard, completely limp over the counter, a fucked-stupid expression on her face, tongue half out. Soft, broken whimpers kept spilling from her throat with every tiny aftershock.

"Nnh... hah... it’s still—coming out..." A steady stream of cum and cream poured from her well-used pussy onto the floor. The smart glasses kept recording every detail.

Kyle leaned down, still buried inside her, and spoke right against her ear in a dark, satisfied voice.

"We’re not finished."

His cock twitched hard inside her, already beginning to swell and harden again under the steady burn of the enhancement. He stayed deep for another few breaths, feeling her pulse around him, feeling the mess he’d made continue to drip.

Stacy let out a weak, breathless moan at the fresh twitch. "A-again...? You’re still—hard...?" Her thighs trembled harder against the counter.

Then he slowly pulled out. A heavy gush followed, splattering onto the floor between her feet.

"Hnnn—!" Stacy made a soft, wrecked sound, hips twitching at the sudden emptiness and the messy rush of fluid. She didn’t try to stand. She just stayed bent over the counter, breathing hard, legs trembling, the recording glasses still capturing everything. Little aftershocks kept making her pussy flutter and push out more cum in slow dribbles.

Kyle ran a hand down her spine, possessive and steady.

"Kitchen floor’s a mess," he said, almost conversational.

"We’re going to clean some of it up later. Right now I’m taking you to the couch. You’re not walking anywhere on your own for a while."

He scooped her up again—effortless under the residual strength of the pill—and carried her out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of their combined fluids on the floor behind them. The smart glasses stayed on and recording continued.

Stacy’s head rested against his shoulder. A quiet, shaky whimper escaped her as more of his cum leaked out against his arm. Her voice came out small and hoarse, but still recognizably her.

"...You’re going to ruin me for real this time, aren’t you?"

Kyle’s answer was a low, dark laugh as he stepped into the living room.

"That’s the plan."