Epilogue One Year Later #3
I nod, slow. “I want to watch it after. I want to remember everything.”
Something in him snaps. He grabs my face, crushing his mouth to mine, all heat and hunger and raw need.
He lifts me onto the marble counter, the stone icy against my bare thighs, and I gasp at the contrast of cold and him.
I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him tight.
I can feel the length of him through the fabric, and the thought of him inside me—claimed, ruined, immortalized on video—makes my whole body clench.
He works a hand between my legs, fingers slicking through the wetness already there. He strokes me, slow and firm, thumb grazing my clit, and I moan into his mouth. He keeps going until my hips rock against his palm, until I’m so close I could scream, then he pulls away.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “God, you’re gorgeous, Andie.”
He steps back, eyes never leaving mine, and unbuttons his pants with maddening slowness.
His ten-inch cock springs free, thick and flushed, already leaking for me.
I want to fall to my knees and taste him, running my tongue lovingly along the bulging veins, but instead I wait, a shiver running up my back.
Thomas moves behind me and opens the stall door, turning on the water and making sure it’s warm.
Then, he helps me off the counter before ushering me into the shower stall.
He steps in behind me, shoulders nearly blocking out the light, and pushes me gently against the cold glass wall, and I brace my hands there, legs parted.
The heat of the water hits my back, beads on my skin, and the mirror across the room instantly fogs with it.
“I’m going to taste you, baby girl,” he rasps. “You’ve been tempting me all night with this slutty pussy and horny back door.”
He kneels behind me, spreading my ass cheeks with reverence, and presses his tongue against my pussy, then my ass.
He eats me, slow and deliberate, tongue working in circles, making me sob and squirm.
He teases, opening me with two fingers, then three, and I know what’s coming but I want it so bad I could beg.
The camera’s red eye blinks in the corner, watching everything.
I look at it, and the thought of being seen—of showing this to myself later—makes me gush with arousal.
“Fuck me in the ass, Daddy,” I pant. “Now, now. I need it!”
Thomas groans and then stands, the head of his cock nudging against my asshole. He spits into his hand, strokes himself, then guides it in, just the tip at first, stretching me open. I moan, pushing back against him, desperate to be filled to the brim by that veiny dick.
“Ooooh!” I squeal, my eyes squinching shut. “You’re so big! You’re stretching me out too much!”
Thomas merely chuckles, raw and throaty.
“Yeah, but you love it, baby, because you’re a horny buttslut. Nothing ever changes, does it? That first time, when we didn’t even know each other’s names, you were already a horny buttslut desperate for dick deep inside your asshole. Now, you’re getting it and more.”
He groans again, still working that massive cock into my tiny asshole. He goes slow, always slow at first, but then when he’s buried balls deep, the restraint cracks. He fucks into me, long and hard, driving into my ass with the kind of force that makes my knees buckle and my vision go white.
“Mmm!” I scream. “Oh god, yes!”
The sound of skin on skin is drowned by the thunder of the shower, our cries echoing off the walls, but I know it’s being recorded, every obscene detail.
He leans in, hand twisting in my hair, pulling my head back so I can see him fucking me in the asshole in the mirror.
His other hand reaches around to stroke my clit, pinching and rubbing until my whole body shakes.
I watch my own face—eyes wild, mouth open, big Double D’s bouncing with every thrust—and I’ve never felt more beautiful or more depraved.
He whispers, “You like being my horny little whore, don’t you? You like knowing I’ll watch this tape over and over.”
I can barely answer, but I manage, “Yes, fuck, yes, I love it. I love you, Thomas! I’ll be your horny anal whore forever!”
He slams in, all the way, and I come so hard I nearly black out, my anal walls clenching around him before dissolving into a series of shudders so powerful they’re almost painful.
I keen and wail helplessly, squirting hard, but he keeps fucking me through it.
Then, Thomas pulls out and strokes himself, painting my ass and back with thick, hot ropes of cum.
“Fuck!” he roars, his shout deafening in the tiled bathroom. “Shit shit shit!”
The hot sperm is everywhere—on my skin, on the glass, maybe even on the goddamn camera—but I don’t care. I want it. I want every second of our anal depravity to be on tape.
After a few minutes of wild moaning, pumping, and deep ejaculation, we finally calm down.
Thomas turns me around, kissing me through the aftershocks, his hands gentle now.
He guides me under the spray, washing me with careful, worshipful touches.
I cling to him, legs weak, the world washed out by steam and endorphins.
When we’re clean, we step out together, toweling off side by side. I glance at the camera, still blinking, and smile at him in the glass. The gorgeous billionaire grins, kissing my shoulder, then scoops me up and carries me to bed.
We collapse, tangled in the sheets, our bodies still trembling. He holds me close, his lips against my ear.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done,” he says, voice raw. “Ever, I’m pretty sure.”
I laugh, dizzy with it. “There’s more where that came from.”
He rolls on top of me, pinning my wrists, and kisses me until I can’t think straight.
“I’m going to write about this,” I say in a playful warning tone.
He laughs, warm and close. “You better.”
We fall asleep like that, the city a blur outside, the future wide open and wild.
And, somewhere in the cloud, a new video waits.
This one is ours alone.
THE END