Caught Pant Down

The night air cools my flushed skin, but it does nothing to quench the fire building inside me. I take another drag from the cigarette, the cherry glowing red in the darkness, as my fingers work faster between my legs.

My panties are soaked, pushed aside carelessly, and I bite my lip to stifle the moans threatening to escape. Victor’s image dominates my mind, his rugged face buried between my thighs, his tongue lapping at me like a man starved. I’ve wanted him since the day Fidelis introduced us at the wedding. He shook my hand, his grip firm and lingering, and I felt it then: that electric pull, the promise of something forbidden and intoxicating.

Back then, Fidelis was charming, full of dreams about our future, house, kids, the whole package. But reality set in fast. His job at the construction firm, under Victor’s thumb, of course, keeps him stressed and distant. Sex became routine: a few minutes of awkward thrusting, him finishing too soon, me left to fake it or finish myself later. No passion, no dominance. Victor, though? I’ve seen how he handles things.

Last summer, at a family barbecue, he fixed a broken fence with effortless strength, sweat glistening on his tanned arms. I watched from the window, imagining those arms pinning me down. He’s the patriarch, the one everyone respects, or fears. Fidelis idolizes him but could never measure up. Victor’s got that quiet intensity, the kind that says he takes his time, savors every moment, breaks you in the best way.

My breath hitches as I plunge two fingers deeper, curling them just right. Smoke fills my lungs, mixing with the scent of my arousal. The woods are alive around me, crickets chirping, leaves rustling, but I’m lost in the fantasy. Victor whispering, “That’s it, Wendy, come for Daddy.” My clit throbs under my thumb, and I’m close, so damn close—

A twig snaps in front of me.

My eyes fly open, hand freezing. There he stands: Victor, silhouetted against the faint firelight, arms crossed over his massive chest. His expression is a mix of amusement and hunger, those brown eyes locked on where my skirt is hiked up, my fingers still buried inside me.

“You whore,” he says, voice low and rough, laced with a dark chuckle. “Here fucking yourself when everyone’s out there looking for you. Fidelis is worried sick, thinking you got lost or some shit.”

I yank my hand free, dropping the cigarette in shock, but I don’t cover up. Adrenaline surges, mixing with the unfinished arousal, making my pussy clench emptily. “Victor… I—”

He steps closer, towering over me, his scent, woodsmoke and musk, overwhelming. “Don’t lie, girl. I saw the way you stormed off. Heard what that idiot son of mine said. Barren? Useless? Bullshit. You’re a firecracker, Wendy. And right now, you’re dripping for it.” His gaze drops to my exposed thighs, slick with my juices. “Let Daddy take care of that sweet pussy for you.”

My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. This is it, the fantasy made real. The camp is just a short walk away; voices carry faintly on the wind. Fidelis could call out any second. But Victor doesn’t care. He drops to his knees in the dirt, big hands gripping my thighs, spreading them wide. “Lean back,” he commands, and I do, bracing against the tree.

His breath ghosts over my core, hot and teasing. “Fuck, you smell good. Been wanting this since I first saw you.” Then his mouth is on me, no preamble, no gentleness. His tongue dives in, broad and insistent, lapping at my folds like he’s devouring a meal. I gasp, fingers tangling in his thick hair, pulling him closer. He growls against me, the vibration sending shocks through my clit.

“Oh God, Victor—” I whisper, grinding against his face. He’s relentless, sucking my clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue while his fingers dig into my ass, holding me in place. Unlike Fidelis’s clumsy attempts at oral , rare and half-hearted, Victor knows what he’s doing. He alternates between long, flat licks and deep thrusts of his tongue inside me, fucking me with it like a preview of what’s to come.

The risk heightens everything. I hear Maria’s voice in the distance, calling my name softly. “Wendy? You out here?” Panic flares, but Victor doesn’t stop, he sucks harder, one hand sliding up to pinch my nipple through my shirt. “Quiet,” he murmurs against my pussy, “or they’ll hear you coming on my face.”

I bite my knuckle to muffle my moans, hips bucking wildly. He’s everywhere, tongue circling, lips sucking, beard scraping deliciously against my sensitive skin. Pressure builds fast, coiling tight in my belly. “Victor… I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he rumbles. “Squirt for Daddy.”