Flooded In Squirt And Cum

The words “Squirt for Daddy” push me over the edge. My body tenses, every muscle locking as the orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave. I squirt—hard—hot liquid gushing over Victor’s face, soaking his beard and shirt. He doesn’t pull away; if anything, he presses closer, lapping it up greedily, tongue working overtime to catch every drop. His groans vibrate against my throbbing clit, prolonging the ecstasy until I’m shaking, barely able to stand.

“Fuck, yes,” he mutters between licks, “taste so goddamn sweet. Give me all of it, Wendy.” My fingers tighten in his hair, pulling hard as I grind my pussy against his mouth, riding out the waves. Stars explode behind my closed eyes, and for a moment, the world narrows to just this: Victor on his knees, worshipping me like I’m a goddess, his strong hands bruising my thighs in the best way. No one’s ever made me come like this—raw, explosive, leaving me drenched and boneless.

Victor’s face is drenched, my release glistening on his beard, dripping from his chin, and he looks up at me with pure, predatory satisfaction. He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring the taste of me, then rises to his full height. Even on his knees he was overwhelming; standing, he’s a wall of muscle and heat, blocking out the faint moonlight filtering through the trees.

I’m panting, skirt still bunched around my waist, panties twisted around one ankle. My cigarette lies forgotten on the ground, long since burned out. Victor’s eyes rake over me, dark and hungry, and I feel that ache between my legs flare again, deeper this time, hungrier. I’ve come harder than I ever have in my life, and it still isn’t enough. I want more. I want him.

He steps in close, one big hand cupping the back of my neck, thumb brushing the sensitive spot under my ear. His other hand slides down, possessive, cupping my soaked pussy like he owns it.

“You think that’s all I’ve got for you?” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough. “Nah, sweetheart. That was just the appetizer.”

Before I can answer, he spins me around, fast, firm, no room for protest. My palms slap against the rough bark of the tree, the same one I was leaning on while I fingered myself to thoughts of him. The texture bites into my skin, grounding me even as my knees threaten to buckle.

“Brace yourself,” he orders, low and commanding. “Hands flat. Ass out. Don’t move.”

I obey instantly, arching my back, pushing my hips toward him. The cool night air kisses my exposed skin, making me shiver. Behind me, I hear the unmistakable sounds: the metallic clink of his belt buckle coming undone, the slow rasp of his zipper, the soft thud of denim hitting his thighs as he shoves his jeans and boxers down just enough.

My breath catches. I don’t dare look back, not yet, but I can feel him: the heat of his body crowding mine, the thick length of his cock brushing the back of my thigh, heavy and leaking. He’s bigger than Fidelis. Thicker. Longer. I’ve seen the outline in his jeans before, fantasized about it, but feeling it now,real, hot, velvet-hard against my skin, makes my mouth water and my core clench.

Victor notches the fat head at my entrance, dragging it through my folds once, twice, coating himself in the mess he just licked out of me. I whimper, hips twitching, desperate.

“Quiet,” he growls, one hand clamping over my mouth while the other grips my hip hard enough to bruise. “You want the whole camp to hear how wet you are for your father-in-law?”

I nod frantically against his palm, moaning into it.

Then he thrusts.

One brutal, unrelenting stroke buries him to the hilt. My eyes roll back, a muffled scream vibrating against his hand. He’s so deep, deeper than Fidelis has ever been, stretching me wide, filling every inch until I feel split open in the best way. The burn is exquisite, pleasure and pain twisting together until I can’t tell them apart.

Victor doesn’t pause. Doesn’t give me time to adjust. He fucks me like a man possessed, hard, fast, punishing strokes that slam my hips into the tree with every drive. The bark scrapes my palms, my breasts bounce under my shirt, nipples hard and aching. Each thrust punches the air out of my lungs, forces little broken whimpers from my throat despite his hand muffling them.

“Fuck, this pussy,” he grunts, hips snapping. “So tight. So wet. Been dreaming about wrecking it since the day you walked down that aisle in that white dress.”

I moan louder into his palm, pushing back to meet him, greedy for every inch. He’s right, I’ve wanted this too. Wanted him to take me, ruin me, show me what I’ve been missing. Fidelis’s gentle, fumbling sex feels like a pale memory now. This is raw. Primal. Real.

Victor shifts his angle, hitting that spot inside me that makes white-hot sparks explode behind my eyes. I’m already climbing again, impossibly fast after the first orgasm. My walls flutter around him, trying to pull him deeper, milking him.

“That’s it,” he rasps against my ear, teeth grazing the shell. “Come on my cock again. Let me feel you squeeze.”

His free hand snakes around, fingers finding my swollen clit and rubbing fast, merciless circles. It’s too much, too good. I shatter for the second time, harder than before, body convulsing, pussy clamping down like a vice. Slick gushes around him, dripping down his balls, soaking the ground beneath us.

Victor doesn’t slow. If anything, he fucks me harder, chasing his own release. His rhythm turns erratic, hips slamming, breath ragged against my neck.

“Gonna fill you up,” he growls. “Gonna pump you so full of cum maybe—fuck—maybe my seed’ll take where his never could. Maybe I’ll get you pregnant, Wendy. Give you the baby he’s too weak to give you.”

The filthy words tip me over again—another smaller, shattering orgasm ripping through me as I sob into his hand. Victor buries himself deep one last time, hips grinding against my ass, and comes with a low, guttural groan. Hot, thick ropes flood me, pulse after pulse, so much it leaks out around his cock, dripping down my thighs in creamy streams.

He stays seated inside me for long moments, both of us breathing hard, his chest pressed to my back, hand finally sliding from my mouth to stroke my hair almost tenderly.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the sweat-damp skin behind my ear. “Took me so well.”

I’m boneless, trembling, utterly wrecked, and I’ve never felt more alive. He was right. I was right. He fucked me so fucking good, deep, rough, possessive, everything Fidelis could never be. My body hums with the afterglow, pussy still fluttering around his softening cock, full of his cum, marked in a way no one else will ever know.

Victor finally pulls out with a wet sound, tucking himself away and zipping up. He turns me gently, cups my face, thumbs brushing away the tears of overstimulation I didn’t realize were there.

“Get yourself together,” he says softly, though his eyes still burn. “Go back before they send out a search party. But tomorrow night, same spot. I’m not done with you.”

I nod, legs shaky, pulling my panties up over the mess leaking out of me. The thought of walking back to the tent with his cum inside me, sitting beside Fidelis while it slowly drips down my thighs, sends a fresh shiver through me.

Victor watches me fix my skirt, then leans in for one last, slow kiss, claiming me as his and promising more.

“Mine now,” he whispers against my lips.

I slip away through the trees, heart pounding, body sore and satisfied in a way I’ve never known.

Back at the fire, the family is still laughing, oblivious. Fidelis looks up as I approach, concern flickering across his face.

“You okay, babe? You were gone a while.”

I force a small smile, sinking down beside him. “Yeah. Just needed some air. Victor found me. We talked.”

He nods, relieved, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Good. Dad’s always got your back.”

I lean into him, letting him think everything’s fine. But inside, I feel Victor’s cum warm and thick, a secret pulsing between my legs.

And I know, tomorrow night, I’ll sneak out again.

Because now that I’ve had him, I can never go back to less.