Your face is turned toward the camera, cheek pressed into the mattress, eyes heavy and mouth parted around these breathy little sounds you can’t keep to yourself. One hand is tucked beneath your belly, fingers moving between your thighs, rubbing your clit in messy circles every time his hips snap forward and push you harder into the sheets.

Lion isn’t saying much, not at first.

He’s too busy trying not to look at the phone.

It had taken forever to convince him to do this, mostly because he kept getting awkward whenever you brought it up, laughing under his breath and acting like the thought of watching himself fuck you later didn’t make his cock twitch in his boxers.

He wanted it—you knew he wanted it.

He just didn’t know what to do with himself once the little red light was on and suddenly everything was being saved.

Unfortunately for him, he looks good like this.

A little flushed. A little overwhelmed. Hair falling into his eyes, chest rising too fast, hands gripping your hips because he needs somewhere to put them.

His movements aren’t shy at all, even if his face is. Every thrust is rough, his thick cock dragging in and out of you until your thighs start shaking and your fingers slip uselessly over your clit.

“Fuck,” he breathes, almost embarrassed by how loud it comes out. “You’re making this so hard.”

You laugh into the mattress, but it breaks into a moan when he thrusts deeper. “You’re the one fucking me like that.”

Lion gives a nervous little huff behind you, something caught between a laugh and a groan, and his fingers flex against your waist. “Yeah, well—shit, baby, you feel so good.”

It’s sweet, somehow. Sweet in the most obscene way possible, with him buried inside you and your slick making a mess of your fingers.

You keep your face angled toward the phone because you know he’ll look eventually, and when he does, you want him to see exactly what he’s doing to you.

His hips start to lose their rhythm after that, still rough, just not as controlled.

The bed creaks under you, the dresser gives a tiny rattle, and your eyes flutter when the head of his cock hits that spot that makes your whole body go loose.

You rub your clit faster, whining openly now, not caring that the camera is catching your ruined face and the drool at the corner of your mouth.

Lion looks, and you can tell the exact instant it happens because his thrust catches inside you.

His gaze flicks to the phone screen, and there you are in the little frame, fucked-out and trembling with your face pressed into the mattress. Your eyes are half-lidded, your lips shiny and parted, your hand working desperately beneath you while he pounds into you from behind.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, voice cracking.

Lion shoves in deep, hips pressed flush to your ass as he spills into the condom with a rough, broken sound, his hands tightening on your waist while his cock pulses inside you.

He tries to keep quiet, tries to tuck his face down like the camera won’t catch how wrecked he is, but there’s no hiding the way his body shudders behind yours.

You’re still touching yourself, peering up at him from the corner of your eye, still fluttering around him, and the overstimulation makes him gasp.

“Baby,” he mutters, breathless and shy now that he’s finished too fast. “Don’t—don’t look at me like that.”

You smile against the mattress, dragging your fingers over your clit just to feel him twitch inside you again.

“Like what? Like I know you’re gonna watch this every night you’re gone?”

Lion glances back at the phone, then at you, cheeks pink and eyes dark. And the answer is clear as day on his face.

He’s definitely going to ask to make another sometime soon.

You had only meant to spend a harmless quarter hour in the conservatory before dinner, trailing your fingers over ferns and glass-warm leaves while Patrick spoke with the old gardener about some imported specimen with a Latin name you could not pronounce if a pistol were pressed to your temple. 

There had been a pale yellow bloom tucked low beneath a curl of greenery, sweet-smelling and damp with pollen, and after that came the itching warmth beneath your stays, the clumsy pressure between your thighs, and the mortifying discovery that every brush of your husband’s hand against your back made you want to climb him like a fever-stricken animal.

“Breathe,” he says now, voice low and steady, though his own composure is suffering in small but satisfying ways. 

His collar is undone, his dark hair mussed from where your fingers had caught in it on the stairs, and his eyes have sharpened in that physician’s way that would be very reassuring if you were not currently trying to rub yourself against his thigh like a woman without a shred of upbringing. “There now, my love. Let me see what this has done to you.”

“Patrick,” you gasp, because his hands are already at the buttons of your bodice, quick and practiced, and there’s something terribly indecent about being undressed like a patient when you are wet enough to ruin your stockings.

He glances up at you, mouth stern, eyes not stern at all. “Tell me plainly. Do you want my help?”

You nearly laugh at him, except the sound catches in your throat when his knuckles graze the swollen peak of your breast through your chemise. “If you ask me that again, I shall bite you.”

Patrick’s expression changes only slightly, but you know him well enough to see it. 

The doctor has not gone. The husband has simply stepped forward beside him, hungry, fond, and very aware that whatever strange botanical curse has taken hold of you is no match for a man who knows your body better than he knows his own name.

“On the bed,” he says, soft enough to be kind and firm enough to make your stomach turn over.

You obey with embarrassing haste. Your skirts are pushed up before you can make any show of modesty, petticoats gathered high around your hips while Patrick kneels between your parted legs. 

The cool air touches the damp heat of you, and you hear him inhale through his nose, quiet and rough, as he sees exactly how badly the pollen has undone you. 

Your drawers are wet through, clinging obscenely, and when he hooks his fingers into the slit and pulls the fabric apart, the sound that leaves you is not fit for any respectable house in England.

“Oh,” he murmurs, and the single syllable has enough satisfaction in it to make you want to kick him. “Poor thing.”

“Do not poor thing me.”

“I shall poor thing you as much as I please,” Patrick says, thumb pressing just above your clit, not enough to help, just enough to make you jolt. “You are shaking.”

He lowers his head and kisses the inside of your thigh, bearded jaw scratching your skin while his fingers part you with clinical patience and marital indecency. 

The sight of him there, broad shoulders between your legs, eyes fixed on your cunt like the answer to the whole affliction is written in the slick shine of you, nearly finishes you before he has properly begun.

Patrick slides one finger inside you, slow, and your back arches so sharply the bed ropes creak beneath you.

“There,” he breathes. “That eases it, does it not?”

You would like to answer with dignity. Truly, you would. Instead, you grab at the coverlet and whimper because his finger curls, pressing into that soft, wicked place inside you with such calm accuracy that you understand, quite suddenly, why people trust physicians with their lives. 

The man could be insufferable, blunt, bad-tempered, and far too pleased with himself when he was right, but dear God, he knows exactly where to touch.

A second finger joins the first, stretching you open while his thumb begins to circle your bud. 

The relief is immediate and not nearly enough. 

Your hips chase his hand shamelessly, cunt clenching around his fingers, slick dripping down to his knuckles as the terrible heat rolls through you again.

“Please,” you gasp, and there goes the last of your pride.

Patrick looks up at you from beneath dark brows. 

“Please make it better.”

His hand stills just enough to make you sob, and the sound seems to break something in him. He leans over you, fingers still buried deep, and kisses you with such tenderness that you taste your own desperation on his breath.

“I will,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I have you. You need not be brave with me.”

The first orgasm is dragged out of you on his fingers, hard and wet and loud, your thighs closing around his wrist while he talks you through it in that rough, steady voice. 

You come so hard your vision blurs, but the relief lasts only long enough for you to draw one trembling breath before the heat surges back worse than before.

Patrick feels it happen around his fingers.

His jaw flexes. “Again, then.”

“Patrick, I need you inside me.”

He swears under his breath, restraint worn dangerously thin. His clothes come off with far less patience than yours. You see him hard and heavy between his thighs, flushed dark at the tip, and your whole body clenches around nothing.

“If I am to treat this properly, you will tell me if it pains you,” he says, taking himself in hand and stroking once as he settles over you.

“It already pains me,” you say, reaching for him. “Patrick, please.”

The head of his cock presses against you, and for one dreadful, heavenly instant he only holds there, letting your slick spread over him while you squirm beneath his weight. Then he pushes in, slow and thick, filling you until your mouth falls open and your nails bite into his shoulders.

Patrick groans against your throat when he bottoms out, his body hot and solid over yours, his composure finally cracking at the feel of your cunt gripping him like it intends to keep him there. “Christ,” he mutters, drawing back before thrusting in again hard enough to make you cry out. 

The singular word makes you wetter. 

Patrick thrusts into you like he’s curing you, which is to say with purpose, stamina, and a concentration so intense it would almost be funny if you were not coming apart beneath him. 

Each thrust drives the breath from your lungs and draws a creak from the bed, his cock dragging through the mess of you while his hand slips between your bodies to rub your clit again. 

He watches your face the whole time, noting every tremor, every gasp, every clench, using all his awful knowledge against you until you are begging without words.

The second orgasm breaks over you faster than the first. The third is worse. By then there is sweat at Patrick’s temples, your thighs are slick against his hips, and the room smells of crushed flowers, linen, and sex. 

He keeps praising you through it, voice hoarse and affectionate, calling you his sweet girl, his poor love, his beautiful wife, until you are half convinced the pollen will kill you if his mouth ever stops.

When his rhythm finally falters, you feel the change in him: his thrusts grow rougher, less measured, his forehead lowering to yours as your cunt pulses around him yet again.

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. 

Patrick comes buried deep inside you with a low, broken groan, his hips pressing tight to yours as he spills into the same aching heat he has spent the last hour trying to soothe. 

The mess of it is immediate, filthy and warm, leaking around his cock as he gives you a few slow, involuntary thrusts that make both of you gasp.

Afterward, he doesn’t move away. He stays over you, breath heavy, one hand smoothing damp hair back from your face while the other rests over your racing heart. 

You should feel cured, calm, any number of proper, ladylike things. Instead, your hips lift faintly against him.

Patrick’s eyes close as if he expected this and still hoped, foolishly, for a different result.

“Oh, my love,” he says, voice worn thin with fond exhaustion, “what a very troublesome flower.”

Both of you are drunk enough to be giggling under your breath, reckless and flushed hot from whiskey, but nowhere near drunk enough to miss what it means when you kick the damp panties down around one ankle and leave yourself bare.

Which is, in hindsight, probably not what the owner of this bar intended for the women’s bathroom.

But alas.

The night had been doomed the second Lion started looking at you across that sticky little table, cheeks flushed from whiskey, hand tucked between your thighs like he still had any business pretending to behave. He’d barely touched you at first, just enough pressure to make you spread your legs wider while he nodded through conversation like he was listening and not thinking about fucking you before last call.

Sweet of him to try, really.

Now his jeans are shoved open, his cock thick and flushed in his fist, the head shiny and leaking a steady bead of precum that drips over his knuckles while he stares at you in the harsh light like you’ve personally ruined him just by lifting your skirt and letting him see how your cunt is glistening

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice already shaky. “Baby, you’re soaked.”

“And you’re leaking,” you hum, glancing down at the flushed head of his cock.

His face goes red, but his cock twitches like it has no respect for his embarrassment, and before he can say anything stupid or sweet, you pull him in by his shirt and kiss him hard enough to make his back hit the stall door.

The latch rattles but neither of you care.

His mouth is messy immediately, open and hot and tasting like whiskey. His hand slips up under your shirt with a needy little groan, cupping your breast through your bra before he gets impatient and tugs the cup down, sucking your nipple straight through the thin fabric of your shirt. The wet heat of his mouth makes your back arch, fabric clinging and darkening around his lips as he sucks harder, tongue dragging slow, filthy circles over the stiff peak until your cunt clenches around nothing.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as his tongue drags wet circles over you.

Lion moans around your nipple like he’s the one being touched, sucking harder when your hips jerk against him. By the time he pulls back, the fabric is wet and clinging, his lips are shiny, and his eyes are so dazed you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

“Lion,” you say, trying not to laugh even though your thighs are already trembling. “Are you gonna stare at me or fuck me?”

The sound he makes is pitiful.

In the best possible way.

“Y-Yeah” he says quickly, nodding like he needs to reassure both of you. “Yes.”

Adorable. Also deeply concerning, because the second he gets one hand under your thigh and lines himself up, all that sweetness burns off into him shoving inside you with a groan so loud you have to slap a hand over his mouth.

His cock stretches you open in one rough push, thick and hot, sliding into you with a wet sound that echoes in the cramped stall. Your head knocks back against the divider, your leg hooks higher around his hip, and Lion’s eyes roll like he’s fighting for his life not to finish on the spot.

“Ohhh fuck,” he groans against your palm, muffled and desperate. “You feel so good. Shit, baby, you feel so good.”

You pull your hand away just to kiss him again, swallowing the next moan as he starts fucking you standing up. HHis hips are too eager, his hands can’t decide where to hold you, and your bodies keep bumping the stall wall hard enough that anyone nearby could probably connect the dots with very little imagination.

Still, the man is putting in work.

Lion grips your thigh and lifts it higher, pressing you back while his cock drives into you at a mean angle that makes your toes curl inside your shoe. Your slick is everywhere—coating him thick and shiny, smearing between your thighs, dripping down to soak into the waistband of his boxers. The wet slap of his hips against yours, the squelch every time he bottoms out, the way your cunt grips and flutters around him like it’s trying to keep him buried deep.

“Right there,” you pant against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Lion gasps, immediately sounding like he might not have a choice anyway. “I won’t, baby, I swear.”

The sweet little promise does not match the way he’s fucking you.

He’s loud, messy, panting into your mouth and groaning every time your cunt clenches around him. Then his next thrust slips wrong, his cock popping out of you with a lewd, wet sound that makes both of you freeze. Your pussy flutters around nothing, a thick string of your combined wetness stretching between your stretched hole and the shiny head of his cock before it breaks and drips down your thigh.

Then you both start laughing like idiots.

“Fuck, sorry,” he pants, forehead dropping to your shoulder while his cock slides slick against your inner thigh. “Sorry, baby, I—”

“Put it back in,” you whisper, still breathless.

Lion lifts his head, face flushed dark, and wraps a trembling hand around the base of his cock. He rubs the head against your entrance once, twice, dragging it through your soaked folds on purpose now, smearing your slick all over himself, nudging your clit with every pass until you’re squirming. 

Either because he can’t aim or because he’s drunk enough to forget he’s supposed to be shy.

“Lion,” you warn.

“I know, I know,” he pants, then pushes back inside you with a rough thrust that wipes the laughter right out of your mouth.

After that, he fucks you harder, like the slip embarrassed him into proving a point. His hand grips your ass under your skirt, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he drags you onto every thrust, cock slamming into you with wet, filthy sounds that fill the stall. 

He kisses you sloppily, all tongue and teeth and helpless little noises while your skirt stays rucked up around your waist and his jeans rub rough against your thighs.

When someone walks into the bathroom and turns on the sink, Lion’s whole body stutters, hips faltering for half a second.

You bite his lower lip and squeeze around him again.

“Baby,” he groans, hiding his face against your neck while still fucking into you. “They’re gonna hear.”

“They already hear,” you murmur, pulling his hair just enough to make him whimper. “So you might as well continue.”

Lion’s hips go sloppy immediately, thrusts losing rhythm as he chases it with no dignity left at all. He’s panting hard, groaning into your skin, one hand gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise while the other braces against the stall wall.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, voice breaking. “I’m gonna come so hard, baby, please—”

He comes with a loud, wrecked groan that he barely manages to bury against your mouth, hips jerking hard as he spills inside you. His whole body shakes with it, cock pulsing deep while his hands cling to you like he’ll collapse if he lets go.

From the sinks, someone clears their throat.

Lion’s eyes go comically wide, still buried inside you, cock twitching with the last weak spurts of cum as embarrassment crashes over him.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing while he’s still inside you.

“Do you think they heard?” he whispers.

A hand dryer starts outside the stall, loud and merciful.

You pat his cheek, smiling sweetly. “Baby, people in the parking lot heard.”

Lion groans, drops his forehead to your shoulder, and somehow still gives one tiny little twitch inside you like embarrassment does absolutely nothing to help him behave.

Which, first of all, is rich coming from him.

This is the same man who had spent most of the afternoon standing around his folks’ backyard barbecue looking like he had never had a filthy thought in his life. 

All shy smiles, pink ears, work-worn hands wrapped around a sweating glass of sweet tea while his mama told somebody from church that her boy was still “a little bashful around pretty girls.”

A little bashful.

Cute, really.

Especially considering that same bashful boy is currently tucked between two rows of tall corn with his jeans shoved open, belt hanging loose, shirt rucked up just enough to show the dark trail of sweat-damp hair under his belly button, and his cock forcing your mouth open so wide your lips feel stretched to their limit.

Very wholesome. Very family barbecue appropriate.

The corn maze was technically for the kids, but in your defense, the kids were busy throwing bean bags by the porch, and Remmick had been looking at your mouth across the yard like he wanted to climb out of his own skin. 

You could only be expected to behave so much. 

There were paper plates, folding chairs, somebody’s aunt fanning herself with a napkin, his daddy manning the smoker, and Remmick turning red every time your tongue slipped over your straw.

So, really, who could blame you?

Not you, that’s for damn sure.

Now you’re on your knees in the dirt, one hand wrapped tight around the thick base of his cock, the other curled around his tense thigh as spit slicks down your chin and makes a mess of your chest. You still can’t take all of him without your throat fighting it, and he keeps trying to apologize for it like that isn’t half the reason you dragged him out here in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, voice breaking as the head of his cock nudges the back of your throat. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry, you’re just—ohhh fuck, you’re takin’ me so good.”

The praise makes you hum around him, and Remmick nearly loses his knees.

The pride of somebody’s little southern town, reduced to gripping corn stalks because your lips are wrapped around his cock ten yards away from the potato salad. His hips twitch forward before he can stop himself, pushing in deeper, and you gag so prettily around him that his whole body jerks.

“Oh, Christ,” he chokes, looking down at you with wide eyes. 

The second you blink up at him through watery lashes and deliberately relax your throat to take him deeper, Remmick makes a noise so desperate and broken it belongs in a confession booth.

His thumb strokes your cheek like he’s trying to be sweet about it, like there’s anything sweet about the wet, choking sounds your mouth is making or the way your throat keeps tightening every time he slips too far.

You pull off just enough to breathe, strings of spit clinging from your swollen lips to the flushed head of his cock, and his eyes drop to the mess with a look so stunned you almost laugh. His cock bobs in the air between you, heavy and angry-red, another bead of precum welling at the slit and sliding down the veined underside while you stroke him slow with your spit-slick hand.

“Look at you all shy,” you murmur, stroking him slow with your spit-slick hand. 

Remmick’s face goes so red you’d think you’d slapped him. “Baby,” he whines, and there’s something so good about hearing that soft, embarrassed plea while his cock twitches in your hand.

“What?” you hum, batting your lashes like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. “You want me to stop?”

His answer comes too fast, too honest. “No.”

You smile, and take him back into your mouth before he can feel too embarrassed about admitting it. 

His hand finally settles at the back of your head, resting there with his fingers shaking like he wants to guide you and is too polite to be honest about it.

So you make it easy for him.

You press forward until your throat works around the head of him, gagging softly as your nose nearly brushes the hair at his base. He smells like sun-warmed skin and barbecue smoke and pure, desperate arousal, and it makes your head spin. Remmick’s hips buck, rougher this time, and the sound of your throat catching around him goes straight to the heat between your thighs.

Somewhere beyond the corn, someone laughs loud enough to remind you both that his whole family is still eating barbecue in the yard.

That should probably slow you down, but it doesn’t. If anything, the risk makes it hotter, makes you hollow your cheeks and suck harder, bobbing your head in short, sloppy strokes that have spit bubbling at the corners of your stretched lips.

Remmick realizes it too, because his grip tightens in your hair and his gaze darts toward the open end of the row before snapping back down to you, flushed and panicked and so turned on he looks like he might cry.

“Gonna get us caught,” he breathes, even as his hips rock forward again. 

You hum around him again, and that’s the last of his manners.

Remmick starts fucking your mouth in short, desperate little thrusts, messy enough that your throat keeps catching around him and your eyes keep watering. 

Your hand works what you can’t fit, slicking him up with every stroke, and his cock feels impossibly heavy on your tongue, pulsing every time you gag. His balls are drawn up tight, tapping against your chin on the deeper pushes.

“Good girl,” he whimpers, and then seems personally embarrassed that he said it so loud. “Sh—I’m sorry, I just—your mouth feels so good. So good, darlin’, you’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

Remmick’s hand tightens on your nape, his stomach flexing hard under the bunched-up hem of his shirt, and his hips stutter like his body is trying to decide between pulling away and burying himself deeper. 

He chooses wrong. Or right. Depends on who you ask.

You take him until you gag again, and his cock throbs hard against your tongue.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps, voice cracking into something downright pathetic. “Baby, wait, I’m—oh God, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

You hollow your cheeks, stroke him faster, and look up at him just in time to watch his face fall apart. 

Remmick comes with a broken, keening whine, hips jerking forward in short, uncontrolled spasms as the first thick, hot spurt of cum hits the back of your throat. It’s a lot—pent up from hours of teasing and shy looks across the yard—and it floods your mouth in heavy, salty pulses. 

You swallow around him greedily, throat working to milk every drop, sucking through every pulse, tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, until his thighs are shaking violently under your hands and his breathing has gone ragged and broken.

He tries to pull back out of some last-minute gentlemanly panic, but you don’t let him. For a man who was worried about being heard, he’s doing a terrible job of being quiet.

You keep your mouth sealed around him, sucking him through the oversensitive aftershocks until he’s whimpering softly, his cock twitching weakly against your tongue as you lick the last dribbles from the slit.

When you finally let him slip from your mouth, he stares down at you like you’ve ruined his life in the best possible way. 

Your lips are swollen, your chin is wet, and there’s dirt on your knees while his cock gives one weak little twitch against your palm like it is just as stupid as the rest of him.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, smiling up at him. “You good?”

Remmick swallows, glancing toward the barbecue like he only just remembered his mama exists.

“I’m gonna need a minute,” he rasps, voice hoarse and fucked-out.

You glance pointedly at his still-open jeans, then back up at his wrecked face. “A minute to tuck yourself away, or a minute because you’re gonna get hard again if I keep looking at you?”

His blush comes back immediately.

God bless him.

“Both,” he mutters, and somehow, that might be the filthiest thing he’s said all day.

“tell them your name and how old you are.”

you pointed the lens of your camera straight at lion, revealing the wide eyed man who anxiously sat atop your bed with you kneeling just in front of him. 

“u-uh lion kaminski…a-and i’m 26.”

“mm and tell us what brings you here, lion.”

“…i-i’m a big fan…of you.”

you gasp as if you hadn’t known already. “a big fan? of me? oh i’m flattered.”

lion nodded along awkwardly, his gaze shifting to anything but the camera.

“you like to jerk off to me, lion?”

that pulled all his attention back to you. he held his breath, fingers curling into the soft material below him. here he was, sitting all shy and timid in the bedroom he knew so well from how much he watched your videos, acting like a complete oaf on camera. it made him remember the first time he ever came to one of your videos. he had been scrolling endlessly on some porn site, cock sitting heavy in his hands and just desperate for something half decent to get off to. then he found you. you were giving a messy blowjob to a glittery pink dildo, spit dripping down onto your breasts in the most lewd manner possible. he remembered how hard his release hit him, groaning loudly into the palm of his hand in fear of being heard. for whatever reason it hooked him onto you for good, and from that point onwards, lion hadn’t watched anything other than your videos, in fact he couldn’t come to anyone but you. it was as if you had completely rewired his brain. 

“y-yeah.”

“how much do you jerk off to me?”

“um…a lot. e-everyday.”

you giggled at his honest reply, then pouted.

“everyday? that’s a lot of wasted cum, lion.”

“m‘sorry” he says in a meek tone, clearly embarrassed from how you phrased it.

“aww he’s so cute,” you cooed behind the camera, “don’t worry, nothing will go to waste this time” you purred.

lion was uncomfortably aware of how hard his cock was, and how much you made it ache just by teasing him. 

“what’s your favourite part of me, lion?”

the way you kept saying his name made his head spin, like it would fall right off.

“is it…my mouth,” you move your free hand up to your lips, taking one manicured finger into your mouth to slowly suck it. “is it…my tits,” your hand moves down to your lace bra, squishing and kneading the fat of your breasts. lion watches intently where your hand moves with heavy lidded eyes. “is it…my ass,” your hand reaches lower down to the curve of your ass, smacking it with a giggle. “or is it…my pussy?” you reach between your legs and rub up and down over your matching underwear, never taking your eyes off lion.

lion inhales shakily before answering. “u-uhm…all of it…” the truth was, lion had watched every single one of your videos from start to finish, so he never considered himself to be picky. whatever you gave him, he took it.

“you sure you don’t have a preference?”

“no ma’am” he shakes his head.

“oh well aren’t you sweet?”

lion’s hips buck up slightly at your praise, and you giggle again.

“you know, i’ve never fucked a fan before,” you bit your lower lip, “but as soon as i got that email of yours, i knew i couldn’t say no,”

in a state of sheer desperation, lion had taken your email meant for business inquiries and sent you a long paragraph that should’ve went in a diary but came inside your inbox instead. lion didn’t consider himself much of a talker or someone who shared a lot of how he felt with people, but you had made him crazy. he went into detail about how you made him feel and how worked up your videos got him. he explained how he fantasized over you ‘popping his cherry’ and how badly he needed one chance with you. he thought you would ignore it, report it as spam, or block him at worst. instead, he woke up to a reply from you proposing the idea of making a video together. he swore he almost came just from seeing your name flash up in his inbox.

“plus, you’re really handsome. you're exactly my type!” you said, your free hand reaching out to caress his cheek. lion whined at your compliment and the feeling of your gentle touch. 

“what did you say you did again?”

“u-uh boxing…”

“yes! that’s right, you’re a boxer!” a hand glided over the bare muscles of his arm, squeezing at the solid meat of his bicep. “you must be so strong!”

lion nods nervously, feeling anything but strong in your presence.

“i think boxing is so hot. it makes me really wet when men fight.”

your hand moves to rub up and down lion’s abdomen and happy trail which he could tell you liked. your fingers were catching onto the waistband of his plaid boxers with every glide down, and lion couldn’t help but notice how close you were getting to his cock, how close he was to getting what he spent nights cumming over.

“am i turning you on, lion?”

“y-yes ma’am”

“am i making your cock hard?”

“fuck—y-yeah” lion’s head rolls back when your words send a surge of blood down his body. 

“pull down your boxers for me,” lion quickly shifted his body down, hooking his thumbs into the elastic material and pulling them down in one go, revealing the painfully hard cock that laid flat on his trimmed pelvis. “gooodd. such a good listener you are, lion.”

you leaned the camera down closer to him, giving the future viewers a good look at his flushed cock, flashing an angry red hue at the tip.

“wow, what do we have here? i didn’t expect you to be so big!”

you dusted your hand over him delicately which made lion whimper louder than he intended to be. his face was so impossibly pink at this point that he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to last. 

“shh, it’s okay lion. do you want me to take care of you?”

“please.”

you giggled, then handed lion the camera so it could face you now. you shifted down onto your front, still in between lion’s legs, and brought your face up to his happy trail, smushing the side of your face and lips into the short tuft of hair. lion held himself up on his elbows as he watched you graze over his pubic hair. it was such a weird turn-on that his cock was now dribbling out pre-cum. you moved down, and breathed warmly over him, making his cock twitch ever so slightly from the foreign sensation. lion held the camera with sweaty hands, shakily pointing it down at you as you left kisses against his length, smearing the milky substance over your lips like lipgloss.

most men would’ve been annoyed or had gotten bored with the amount of teasing you were doing, but lion wasn’t most men. he would’ve been happy had you spat in his face and told him to fuck off.

just as he was getting comfortable with your slow and gentle pace, you took the length of him into your mouth and pushed him all the way to the back of your throat, one hand wrapped around the base of him before planting it on his thigh. lion choked out hard behind the camera, and you slowly pushed back up with a ‘pop’. you watched his eyes widen, and you gave him a smile before dropping your mouth back down on him, this time vigorously bobbing your head up and down, suctioning your lips tightly around him, pulling him deeper. lion almost dropped the camera from the mind numbing pleasure of your wet mouth around him. your tongue was tracing every ridge and vein of his cock as you milked him to filth. spit bubbles began to form around his length from all the excess saliva. 

“o-oh shit! fuckkk y-yesss” he whined uncontrollably, gasping with breath like you would steal it from him if he didn’t punch it out of himself.

lion could feel his own drool slowly creeping out of his mouth as he watched you with a slacked jaw. you could’ve been making eye contact with the camera lens, instead you chose to look at lion, admiring how dumb he looked just from being sucked off. even when you deepthroated him, you never took your eyes off him despite lion being to scared to look back. he opted to watch you from the camera’s viewfinder instead. 

you pulled off again with an obscene amount of saliva strings connecting your lips to his tip. you wrapped a steady hand around his length and pumped him excruciatingly slow, but gripped him tightly. 

“you like it when i pump this big cock of yours? hm? is it too much?”

lion answers you with a whimper, completely drunk off the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

“use your words, lion” you coo innocently, trying to coax some form of words out of him.

“s-s’perfect…s-shit” he groans breathlessly, tears threatening to fall from the delicious mix of pain and pleasure of your grip.

“good boy. are you gonna cum for me?”

he nods frantically, choking out multiple shaky ‘yes’’

you take him into your mouth once more, bobbing your head with a force strong enough to dislodge his cock from his body. lion came almost immediately, a loud broken cry rang out from behind the camera from the sheer vigour of his own orgasm. his hips stuttered uncontrollably as you continued to suck on him, feeling the back of your throat open and close as you swallow the warm, thick seed you promised wouldn’t go to waste.

lion was absolutely spent, skin slick with sweat, cheeks permanently tinted pink, and breath ragged. he watched himself shrink, but wouldn’t go fully soft. his body knew it wasn’t over yet. 

you shifted back onto your knees, this time sitting so much closer to lion. you gently grabbed the camera from his hands, and panned it around towards lion’s direction. he sat there, slumped back into your pillows, absolutely wrecked. his chest rose and fell with every heave, slowly regaining his breath back. 

“you came so hard, and just from my mouth!” you breathed out with a giggle, smoothing a hand over the side of his face. he leaned into your touch, and you cooed at him. 

“i t-think you sucked me dry…”

you pressed your lips into your mouth, shaking your head. “mm i don’t think so. i think you need to come again…and again…and again” your hand drifts lower, past his neck and down his abdomen in the direction of his half hardened cock, which was now very sensitive to the touch. you cupped his balls, kneading them gently, making lion’s eyes squeeze shut. blood was already surging back down into his cock, growing back into its previous length and girth. you hummed in amusement at the sudden quickness of his erection. you turned the camera away to face both you and lion, and you leaned in close enough that he could feel the delicate drag of your lips against the shell of his ear. 

“told you so” you whispered, loud enough for the camera to pick up, but quiet enough for it to be personal to lion. he bit his lip nervously in response, nodding along because he couldn’t protest.

“hmm what should we do now, lion? why don’t you tell them what you want me to do to you” you mumbled against his jaw, pressing little kisses into the scruff of his beard, eyes peering up to maintain eye contact with him.

“i um—i want you to f-fuck me…please” he whispers, looking straight down at his stirring cock.

you grin into his neck, amused at the desperation that oozed out of him like molasses. 

“yeah? poor baby wants me to fuck him?” you brought the camera closer to both of your faces.

“i need it” he gulps.

“oh i’ll fuck you alright” you taunted him, leaning back off lion’s chest and reaching for the condom packet that sat on your bedside table. you handed him the camera and he faced it at you, his own hardened cock in frame. you ripped the condom out with your teeth, and threw the empty package somewhere out of frame. you pushed the thin material onto his tip, observing the way it stretched out over the thick length of him, expanding over the veins that ran up his shaft. 

he definitely needed a bigger condom.

you leaned back onto your knees, playing with your bra straps and rubbing over the lacy material of the cups.

“do you think i’m pretty, lion?” you slowly pushed the straps off your shoulders.

lion’s head was nodding before he could even think of his answer, his body already confident in his attraction to you.

“how pretty am i?”

“s-so fuckin’ beautiful, i s-swear” he looks at you like you hung all the stars in his sky, and you wished the camera could see his expression.

“aw you make me feel so special, lion. maybe i should throw out all my dildos and use you for my videos instead!” you tease, putting a nail in between your teeth as if you were truly contemplating it.

the idea made lion curse under his breath, eye squeezed shut from how easily flustered your words made him.

lion watched as your hands moved behind your back, unhooking the closures and letting the straps fall off your arms. he watched you massage the fat of your breasts in your palms, pushing them together in a sensual motion. his fingers fidgeted on the sides of the camera from the urge of wanting to reach out and touch them, though luckily for him, you noticed. you grabbed one of his wrists and pulled it towards you, latching his sweaty hand onto your breast. his hand sat there, wide eyed and frozen in place before giving it a tiny squeeze.

“don’t be so shy!” you giggled, holding one hand on top of his to help him feel more comfortable. he squeezed again, this time rolling a thumb over your nipple.

“theerree you go, play with it.”

he leans forward slightly, giving the camera a closer view of your breasts. he mimics the way you touch yourself, kneading the fat gently. he could’ve stayed like that all day, just using your breasts as sensory soothers.

“want me to take my panties off now?”

lion makes a small, desperate ‘mhm’ sound, and lays back down onto the pillows. you shift on your knees to face your back towards lion, then lean forward into a doggy position, pushing your ass closer to his face. lion breathes heavily into the camera’s microphone, heat rushing to his face. you turn your head to look at him, biting your bottom lip from how nervous this new position made him. one hand slid back to hook into the hem off your underwear, pulling it down the curve of your ass and slowly revealing both holes lion knew so disgustingly well. your pussy gleamed with slick, and it made lion’s mouth water. he gulped it down. your hand moved between your legs, pressing your fingers right into your folds and spreading them open, pushing the slick up to your swollen clit. lion felt his cock twitch again. your hand moved up to your ass cheek, spreading the fat with your sticky fingers, then slapping it with a giggle.

“your turn, lion!” you beam, pushing yourself closer to him.

he tries to clear his throat to ask ‘what?’ but stutters out something unintelligible.

“slap it. i know you want to!”

“u-uh i—i-”

“c’mon! you’re a boxer, you hit things all the time, so why not hit me!”

his hand hesitates near the curve of your ass, then tries to slap you lightly but feels more like a weak high-five. you groan in annoyance, and it makes lion feel embarrassed.

“ugh harder than that! i want a proper slap, lion. please, i’ve been sooo bad!” you bounce yourself, letting the fat jiggle slightly.

he slaps again, this time harder, though not hard enough for your liking.

“harder!”

he lays the hardest slap he could give, and it makes you yelp, body jolting forwards. lion immediately pulled his hand away, feeling scared that he went too hard for someone who wasn’t his opponent in a ring. you rubbed over the stinging skin in surprise, then grinned.

“you hit hard. i like that,” you said as you lifted yourself up off your elbows, hands gripping lion’s knees. “though i think i’ll like this more.”

you drop yourself down onto his cock, still laying flush against his pelvis. lion groaned out, feeling the weight of you on his most sensitive area. you slowly rub yourself back and forth, lubricating his cock with your slick before lifting your hips again. 

“put it in me!” you whine impatiently, pouting your lips at lion so sweetly.

lion holds himself up to your sopping entrance and aligns the tip at your sopping entrance. you feel the nudge, and slowly sink down onto him, earning a cry from lion. you’re ridiculously tight around him, and you haven’t even begun clenching. your cunt swallows his entire length until you’re sitting on him, giggling as you look back at him struggling to not buck his hips. then you move—agonizingly slow, clenching on your way up to keep him from slipping out. you slam yourself down against him again, and a strangled groan rips through lion’s throat, head falling back against the pillows.

“you like this view? my ass bouncing in your face?” you sneer at him, beginning to bounce on his cock at a ruthless pace. 

lion can only whine out an ‘uhuh’ before you knock the breath out of him, almost dropping the camera again. you pause to take the camera from him, and set it up on the side of the bed so the viewers could get a full shot. 

“grab my ass, lion!” you pull his clammy hands onto you. “show them what they can’t touch” you pout at the camera, referring to the poor viewers that will never get a chance with you, except for lion.

lion squeezes his big, twitchy fingers into your ass, gathering as much fat in his hands as he can. he barely knows what to do with all of you, all he can focus on is how good he feels when you bounce on him like he’s a dildo suctioned to the floor, and the jiggle of your ass when you slam down on him. 

“that feel good, daddy?” you moan, turning your head away from the camera to face him. his breath clogs his throat when he hears you call him ‘daddy’, an obvious tease to make him nervous. he squeezed his eyes shut, too immersed in the pleasure to reply. you giggled at his reaction, and decided to keep going with it.

“hm? cat got your tongue, daddy?” you bounced even faster, making it harder for lion to answer you. he was fully gone, and you had taken him up to heaven.

you whined out relentlessly from his tip drilling into your sweet spot with every drag, and it didn’t help that he stretched you out so nicely more than any dildo did.

“god—you feel so good! so—fuck!—big!” you begin to roll your hips against him, thighs burning from the intensity of your riding. the back of lion’s head is buried in the pillows, whines and groans falling from his lips pathetically as he watched the length of him disappear and reemerge from your warm, wet cunt with teary eyes. with every roll of your hips, lion noticed his condom starting to lift up from the base.

“c-condoms—mmph—liftin’…” he mumbles out drunkenly, almost unsure if he was in his right mind to assume anything with the way you were clamping him.

“wha—oh, shit! i knew it was too small for you,” you exhale in annoyance, lifting yourself off of him, almost pulling the whole condom up with you. you tear off the slick coated condom and throw it aside. you grabbed his throbbing cock in your hands and nudged his tip against your hole. “looks like we gotta do it raw, lion” you winked, before pushing yourself down, burying him to the hilt.

a wrecked sob comes out of lion when he slides back in. he knew he wouldn’t be able to last as long going raw with you, not if he could feel the warm clenching of your pussy even better than he did before.

the rhythm of your bouncing became messier, eager to bring yourself and lion closer and closer to your orgasms. you felt lion’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, using his strength to help you bounce harder, although he didn’t have much left in him.

“‘making me feel so good—fuckk—‘gonna cum on your fat f-fucking cock!” the bottom of your lip catches under your teeth as you grin into the camera, making sure the viewers would be able to see how good you felt. you imagined your male viewers watching behind the screen, furiously jerking their cocks in rage over not being able to get a chance with you, and for some reason, the idea that other men envied lion got you off.

you could tell lion was nearing his release when tears started streaming down his rosy cheeks, whimpering out like a man in defeat, his opponent being your grip. he was such a fucked out mess at this point, he forgot all about the camera filming everything, all he wanted was for you to keep riding him until he was drained of everything he had.

“m’so close, lion! i c-cant wait for you to come inside me” your breathing is laboured, and you can barely keep yourself up with the way his cock was plunging inside you, a small ring of cream forming around the base of his length.

you cried out when you felt lion snap his hips upwards, chasing your momentum in desperation to cum. his tip was punching harder into your core with every slam of your hips.

“yesyesyesyes—fuck! just like t-that lion, y-yeah keep fucking me just like that! make me cream on it! please—i n-need it!” you pant, back arching as you let your orgasm wash over you, crying out in bliss from the wave of pleasure building up from your core.

lion was shattered as he came undone, choking out a sob as his hips came to a still inside you, tears pushing past his eyelids when he squeezed them shut. he hissed, coming to terms with the fact that he just came inside you when he felt the warmth of his own cum coating him and your walls. your cunt fluttered around him as you rode through the aftershocks, milking him for every last drop. lion laid there on the bed, vision hazy and huffing shakily. he felt as if his body had turned into liquid, unable to move even if he tried. you slumped forward onto the bed, trying to catch your breath. you turned back to look at lion, then laughed when you saw how pussydrunk he was. 

“i think my pussy killed him” you said at the camera. lion could only huff out a small noise, hoping it sounded like a laugh but it didn't.

you slowly lifted yourself off him, and quickly turned over to face lion, spreading your legs so he could see himself dripping out. you reached out to grab the camera, pointing it down at yourself.

“you made a big mess inside me, lion. i think you got me pregnant!” you pouted, then giggled when lion’s eyes widened. pregnant.

lion was no expert in sexual education, clearly he hadn’t impregnated you that very second, but the mere idea of it scared the life out of him. he could barely take care of himself, let alone a child, so he decided he would 'undo' his error. he shifted off his back onto his knees and brought his face up to your slicked folds covered in a white sheen. without thinking, he took a long stripe up your slit, catching his own cum in his mouth, then swallowing. 

“awww, such a good boy cleaning your mess! seems like he doesn’t want me to get pregnant” you praised lion from behind the camera, capturing him lapping and slurping at the mix of both yours and his release. your hips jolted slightly every time his tongue glided over your puffed clit, whimpering from the overstimulation. he swallowed as much of his cum as he could before he opened his eyes, realizing how disgusting he must’ve looked feasting on his own bodily fluid.

“s-shit…” he murmurs, wiping the slick off his mouth with his forearm. he pulled back, letting you sit up. you held the camera up in a selfie position, facing it towards both of you. 

“so, how was that, lion?”

“s’really g-good…i came s-so fuckin’ hard.”

“yeah? did i pop your little cherry?”

“y-yes ma’am, you did” he breathes out a small, shy chuckle to your question.

you hum in great satisfaction of your work.

“just one more thing…” you mumble, holding lion’s chin in your hand and bringing his face closer. you stop right before his lips touch yours, and all he can do is look at your lips, wanting so badly for you to press them against his.

but you don’t.

you push him back, then giggle.

“i’m teasing! i’ll save that for next time.”

his breath hitched. next time. you wanted a next time with him. he felt that familiar rush of blood flow downwards.

“now, say bye-bye!” you put the camera in his face, and lion pauses before he sheepishly says ‘goodbye’, waving awkwardly. 

you say your own goodbye then shut off the camera, quickly making sure the footage saved before diverting your attention back to lion. you were about to say something else before something caught your eye. you looked down.

lion was hard again.

he was already looking too, internally cursing himself for being this way. you looked at him, already grinning from ear to ear.

“looks like we’re not done yet. and don’t worry, we can have some privacy now.” 

remmick gore closeups in the sinners vfx pdf … who cheered