Chapter 76: The End of It or I’m In Your Hands (r-18)

Damon picked up the pace in fucking her hard, very deep and fast too and her ass started hitting his hips in a rhythm, never all of him; the leftover inches slapped her cheeks while the rest wrecked her tight hole.

"You keeps hitting— oh yes I can feel it in my stomach— stay— ahh—"

Every pull-out left her leaking, juice running off her lips and dripping off her clit onto the sheets between her knees, and he drove in again until the sound went loud gulp around him, while her tits hung and swung and slapped her own arms and her spine dipped every time he hit her end, nail marks on his thigh, a handprint blooming on one globe, her wrist still shiny from his mouth.

After a few minutes of his hard and fast relentless thrusts her pussy looked different, it was now darker and sloppier, and her hole stayed a little open when he pulled to the head, a juicing mouth that did not shut in time.

After ten minutes of hard strokes he was only shiny at the tip.

After twenty his shaft was coated to her depth in white-pink cream and the unused part of him stayed cleaner, marked like a line she could not cross.

He put one hand around her throat from behind, not choking her out, just holding, and drove faster with deep hard short brutal strokes that only used the length she could take and still felt like he was trying to crawl into her, and she moaned into it long on the bottom and chopped when he sped up while her words died into sounds.

"Ah— ah— Damon— fuck—"

He swore but sentence cracked in the middle — "Take— fuck— Camilla—" — and she told him not to stop while he told her to take what she could and she laughed once, wrecked, and pushed back anyway while he spanked her in time with it, open palm skin-on-skin slaps stacked on pussy-on-dick slap. Her hole kept trying to keep him. Cream gathered in a ring around his shaft at her depth and smeared back over the unused part of him.

"Too deep— no— keep— ahh—"

His one hand was on her waist while he ravaged her, the other slid down until he hooked one of her knees up off the kneel so she opened wider, one leg bent and one still planted, and the new angle made her shout.

He could see more of her now — fat petals stretched, juice leaking, cream flicking off him on the backstroke — and from this side the leftover inches sat juicing against her ass while her lips kissed the middle of him and slipped and failed and kissed again.

He took her hand and put it on her own tit:

"Hold that."

She did, and the hanging weight slapped her forearm on the next thrust while she squeezed it anyway.

His other hand found her clit and teased it while he fucked her faster, circling and rubbing and not being kind, two fingers on the swollen bead while his dick punched her end and juice dripped off her clit onto his fingers then onto the sheet.

"Don’t— don’t stop— I’m— Damon— ahh—"

She came apart for him in pieces that kept connecting — moans stacking into one long wrecked sound, ass bouncing off him, pussy loud, fat juicing noise around a dick too big for her last stretch — and after twenty strokes he was coated to her depth and cleaner after that, with the veins of his cock dragging, head flaring every time he bottomed out while her pride-face went dumb.

"It’s coming out of me— I can hear it— fuck—"

He folded over her back and rutted faster, hips slapping, one hand still on her clit and the other braced on the bed beside her hanging tit so he could feel it swing into his wrist.

The bed complained and she leaked down both thighs now, a drop hitting the sheet and darkening it while another ran from her stretched hole down his unused inches and off his balls.

"Camilla—"

She moaned so loud before Camilla pulled off him all at once, she turned and shoved him back onto the bed.

He left her with his head popping free on a catch of her juice, and her hole stayed open a second, gaped and dark-pink, juice pouring down her thigh in a thick run while a string still tied her to him until she moved and it broke on his stomach.

Then she climbed him and straddled him, and her hand went to his dick and she could barely hold it, fingers not meeting, her wrist shiny as she smeared juice across his stomach when she aimed him, a streak of her on his skin and on her own wrist.

The same soaked head she pointed at herself and held there, breathing like she had won something, while her fat petals kissed the crown again and cream ran down his shaft over her small fist.

"Let me rock your world." Her eyes were bright and filthy and proud. "I’ll give you the best first time you’ll ever get. Are you ready, Damon? You like mature experienced women, right? Let me give you a taste of that; let me give you another reason to like us."

He grinned up at her, wrecked and stupid-happy, hands on her thighs: "I’m in your hands, love."

Camilla sank on Damons’s dick but not all at once.

She held the thick wet head at her hole with a fist that still would not close around him, breathed out, and then she took the crown like she had done this enough times to know the first inch was the liar.

The fat lips of her pussy opened around his dick and the ring stretched white-pink around that blunt head and before she swallowed it. She sunk down slowly, inch by inch, her pussy dragged down the veins, until she hit her end again — but she was still not his base — and stayed there, full, shaking once in pleasure and fullness of her pussy.

A stretch of him stayed out; it was shiny and mashed against her ass and her lips had only kissed the middle of the shaft and could not climb it.

"Don’t thrust," she said. "Not yet."

Then she showed him something different and unique too when she moved.

It was not the usual up and down; no, her ass rolled first in a slow circle and those globes shifted on his lap, flesh rippling out to the sides, the split of her grinding over what she could not take. Inside, her pussy twisted around him, walls changing shape with the turn of her waist.

She ground forward so her clit could drag on his shaft and her juice smeared all over him, then rocked back so the head rubbed that deepest spot she had already named, then rolled a figure-eight that made the sound go thick and ugly between them.

One hand planted on his chest with her nails in him and her weight on him, and the other lifted her own tit and put his palm on it, closing his fingers for him.

"There. Hold that. Don’t be shy with it."

She took his other wrist and shoved it between them, down where they were joined, onto her clit, and that fat mound sat against his knuckles soaked and swollen.