#x trail

[v1sexual]

whoever edited this needs their pussy ate

[venkateshwheelsbingo]

Nissan launches the most powerful SUV ever to compete with Fortuner, Know the price and features

In India, Nissan launched the fourth version of the X-Trail. The brand's CBU business is reintroduced in the nation with the new model. Nissan revealed the engine and features that would be available on the vehicle, which is anticipated to be priced higher than average. Nissan had the X-Trail on display back in 2022. In contrast to that model, the fourth-generation SUV has been modified and now seats seven people in three rows. Little has changed on the outside, as the four-wheeler still has a muscular bonnet and split LED headlamp arrangement. With its 20-inch multi-spoke alloy wheels, the new model has a commanding SUV stance.

[gutsby]

Homemade

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.

Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.

Part of the Waiting Game series

“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”

Joel knew you meant it, too.

The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.

Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.

It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.

“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.

“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”

Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.

You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.

“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.

You rolled your eyes.

“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.

“JOEL!”

Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:

“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.

You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.

Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.

“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”

The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.

“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”

You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.

The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.

“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”

“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch. 

Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.

He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.

“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”

“Yup.”

Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.

“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.

“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.

Then you pulled off.

“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.

“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.

It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.

As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.

“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”

Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”

You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.

Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.

“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”

Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.

He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.

You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.

“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”

He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.

“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”

With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.

“Get on the bed.”

You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.

“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.

In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.

When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.

“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”

That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.

Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.

Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.

Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.

You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.

He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.

“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.

Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.

“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”

Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.

“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”

It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.

Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?

Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.

The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.

Or another minute, it seemed.

You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.

“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”

Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.

No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.

You shivered and started to push Joel away.

“Can we maybe just—”

“Sweetie?!”

Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.

“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.

“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.

You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.

Your dad was caring like that.

He just never knew the right times to show up.

No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.

That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.

You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.

“I thought I saw a spider.”

“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”

The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.

“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”

Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’

“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.

Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.

Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.

You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”

Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”

An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.

Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.

“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”

“Okay.”

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.

The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.

Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?

“I’ll still eat you out if y’want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”

Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.

You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.

Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.

He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”

Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”

Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.

Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.

Maybe.

Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.

“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”

The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.

Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.

Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.

Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.

At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.

You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.

You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.

“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”

You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.

Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”

You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.

When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.

“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.

“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.

“Thank you, what?”

Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.

Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.

To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.

You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.

“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.

“You, daddy.”

“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”

“You, daddy.”

Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.

He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.

You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.

Water.

It wasn’t on your back anymore.

It was fanning between your legs.

Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.

“Try it one more time.”

You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.

You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.

“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”

Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.

“D-D-D—”

Damn, you sounded stupid.

“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.

In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.

“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”

Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,

“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”

“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”

But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,

“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”

Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,

“Daddy!”

Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.

You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”

In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.

“One more, sweet pea.”

“Joel—”

“And say it louder this time.”

Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.

Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:

“DADDY!”

You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.

Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.

The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.

“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.

“I—”

“Are you hurt?”

Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.

You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.

Your dad was still there.

The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.

You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.

“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”

“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”

That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.

Then he sighed.

“Alright.”

Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.

Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.

Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.

But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.

Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.

Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,

“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”

[flwrkid14]

I’m just saying—Tim should have a full-blown obsession with Danny’s ridiculously sharp, pointy canines.

Like, I’m talking every single night, Tim is practically begging for it, especially when it comes to his neck. Maybe Tim has a thing for his neck being sensitive, but he’ll just tilt his head, exposing his throat, knowing Danny could bite just a little deeper and break skin if he wanted to. And the best part? Tim trusts him completely. He knows Danny could draw blood if he wanted to, but the fact that he doesn’t, that Danny holds back out of love, out of care, worried for him, reassuring that he won't hurt him—ugh, chef’s kiss

But also, the bite marks are like a grounding thing for Tim. On the nights where his brain is a mess, when he can’t get out of his head, those marks are like proof. Proof that he’s wanted. That he’s loved so deeply by someone as incredible as Danny, who’s more than happy to leave little reminders all over Tim’s skin that say: ‘He’s mine. I’ve got him. He’s cared for.’ (even if thats not what people initially think of when they see them)

And imagine Tim walking into the Batcave, totally casual, covered in bite marks and bruises that are definitely purple enough to be noticed. Dick and Bruce? Immediately freaking out because they think he’s been attacked by some rogue. But no, this is just Tim, grinning like an idiot, strolling in so happy because those bites aren’t from some enemy. No, they’re from Danny. And Tim’s never felt more loved in his life

[syd-djarin]

nut vid with the sound on

frankie "catfish" morales x f!reader

You accidently send Frankie a text that he wasn't supposed to see.

~1.5k words

tags: EXPLICIT, accidently sending a screenshot meant for someone else, reader is feral (she just like me), sexting, mention of light choking, virtual mutual masturbation (m & f!), flirting, Frankie is a consent king!, dirtyyyy talk, voice notes, nudes, nut vid with the sound on, they're so horny for each other

this is my first Frankie fic and I've been thoroughly enjoying myself in the Catfish Pond ;) I hope y'all like the text format, I had fun writing it like this. special shoutout to my babe @almostempty !!! she matches my freak, feeds my delusions & sparks my horny thots. thank you for cheering me on and helping with the dialogue I love you LOTS <3333

consulted this page for spanish used :)

translations:

princesa - princess

tócame - touch me

que cosa/cosita mas linda - what a pretty/pretty little thing

mierda - shit

ay dios - oh god

hazme el amor - make love to me

banners by: @cafekitsune <3

smut below the cut, y'all know the drill!

Frankie: You coming tomorrow? 

You: Yes, of course :) 

Frankie: Good. 

Bestie: bitch if you don’t make a move on fish

Bestie: It’s been months!!! Find out why they call him Catfish ;) 

You: STOPPPP 

You: you’re right tho I am dying to know

You: Wanna suck his dick til the skin falls OFF 

You caption the screenshot of Frankie’s latest Instagram post and text it to your bestie who will appreciate your level of freakiness. 

You continue your scrolling. 

*ding* 

Frankie: I don't think this message was meant for me, princesa.  

Opening his text, you realize to your horror that you sent your thirsty thoughts TO Frankie. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck!

You: shit, I’m SO so so incredibly sorry! Totally inappropriate and not cool. I definitely meant to send that to someone else. Totally exiling myself from the group. 

Frankie: You meant to tell someone else that you wanna suck my dick til the skin falls off? 

You: It wasn’t for you. Please forget you saw it. Please Frankie :( 

Frankie: hell of a thing to send to someone. how am I supposed to forget the idea now?

You: Pretend. It was a mistake. 

Frankie: a mistake? as in, you didn’t mean it? 

You: Can we drop it? 

Frankie: seemed pretty specific for a mistake. you got freaky with it

You: It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. Please let it go 

Frankie: I don’t think I can, princesa

Frankie: not after imagining it 

Frankie: You sent a whole screenshot, with a colorful caption attached. That's intentional.

If you weren’t so humiliated, you’d be giggling and kicking your feet in the air that he is calling you princess, but you can only assume he is being patronizing. 

You: This is so fucking embarrassing. 

Frankie: Not too embarrassed to keep texting though…

You: Frankie don’t 

Frankie: You really think about me like that? 

You: I think you already know the answer to that

Frankie: I do, but I wanted to hear it from you. This time directly to me

Frankie: I think about you 

Frankie: All the time

You: Frankie, please. 

You: I already feel terrible 

Frankie: Never thought you’d see me like that. Now you’re telling me you’ve been thinking about my cock? and you want me to drop it? 

You: Please don’t fuck with me. I’m already mortified beyond belief like I can’t show my face around here anymore!! I’m sorry I sent it okay? 

You: I’ll skip the kickback if it's going to be too weird now. 

Frankie: Wouldn’t be the same without you there. I’d never tell you not to come. 

Frankie: If you really want me to drop it, I will. just say the word 

Frankie: but you should know

Frankie: I think you’re gorgeous, hilarious, too fucking smart to be hanging out with us  

Frankie: I lose my mind goddamn mind when I’m near you 

Frankie: and knowing you’ve been thinking about me too has me hard as a fucking rock 

You: Do you really mean that? 

Frankie: Yes I do, baby. You have no idea what you do to me 

You: Yeah? I might need some enlightenment. 

There’s a pause. You brace for impact; that he is really pulling your leg and he and the guys are doubled over laughing at your expense. 

Frankie: Might be better if you hear it straight from the Fish’s mouth

Frankie: Get it? Like horse’s mouth but it’s a fish instead 

You: I hate to admit I did one of those huff exhales that you do when something is amusing but not quite funny enough to warrant a full laugh

Frankie: At least you smiled. That’s good enough for me

Frankie: Sending a voice note, is that okay? 

You: Of course

Then the notification for a voice memo appears. Your fingers hover over the screen before you press play and Frankie’s low, gravelly voice spills into your ears. 

“Bebita, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been yours since I first laid eyes on you…You’ve got me sitting here in my truck, trying to keep my shit together, but all I can think about is you on your knees for me. Told the guys I had to take a call… they’d give me shit right now if they knew… they’ve been ribbing me for months to ask you out but I was too chicken shit… way too pretty for me… definitely funnier and smarter than me, but you should know I’m not intimidated by that it's fucking hot… Fuck you’d look so good for me. I’d slide my cock into your mouth so slow, watch your lips stretch around me. You have the prettiest eyes and lips, you’d be heaven down on your knees for me…Shit, I’d lose my mind watching you take it. You’d look so pretty with your mouth full of me, baby. So fucking pretty.” 

Frankie: Are you touching yourself? Tell me, pretty girl 

You: And if I was?

Frankie: Good girl 

Frankie: What are you thinking? How do you feel?

You: So so good, Frankie

You: Thinking about your big strong hands all over me has me drooling baby

Another voice memo appears. When you press play, there’s a groan—a low, throaty sound that makes your entire body shiver. 

“You been thinking about my hands, princesa? Want me to hold those pretty tits with my hands, hmmm? Play with your nipples, massage them…maybe you’d like one of my hands gently pressing into the sides of your throat… if you’re into it of course!” 

Frankie’s urgency to make sure you’re into that sort of thing makes you smile. The caring, thoughtful Frankie that you know. 

“I am so hard for you– ay dios!…Thinking about you sitting on my face, trapped underneath your gorgeous thighs… make you come all over my face. Need you to make a mess on me… rub your pretty little clit on my nose, that’s why I have this big nose… so you can use it fuuuuuuuck…”

His voice grows rougher, more ragged. You can hear the slick, clapping sounds and his breathing. Heavy and uneven. 

“Mierda, I’m so fucking close, wish you were here baby–unghhhhh… wanna feel you around me, your pussy squeezin’ my cock… make you come ‘til you’re begging me to stop… do whatever you ask me to…”

You: Show me. I want to see Frankie, please 

Frankie: Wanna hear you say it in your pretty voice 

Frankie: Let me hear you beg all sweet like for me and I’ll show you what you do to me 

You: “Frankie ohhhhh baby I need you so bad… tócame, Frankie, por favor…Always think about climbing in your lap, running my hands through those— ahhhhhh!— curls, wanna feel how deep you get when I ride you… wanna feel you in my goddamn throat — fuck, can you hear how wet I am? I’m making such a mess oh my godddddd… never been this fucking wet baby…”

Frankie: babygirl you’re gonna be the death of me

Frankie: love your voice and the pretty sounds your pussy is making for me 

You: can I send a video? 

Frankie: no pressure. only if you’re comfortable with it 😘

You: that’s not what I asked, Francisco

Frankie: I know you mean business when you use my government name 

Frankie: yeah baby i wanna see whatever you wanna show me 

You: Attachment: 1 Video 

“Hazme el amor, Frankie…” 

Your legs are spread open, your core on display for the camera. He smiles thinking you probably had to find something to prop your phone on. You’ve got two fingers teasing in and out of your glistening pussy.

Frankie: que cosa cosita más linda 

Frankie: You have the prettiest, messiest little pussy baby. Thank you for showing me. I can’t wait to taste her

Frankie: As promised, you want something in return for being such a good girl for me? 

You: yes please 😇

Frankie: sound up 😘

Attachment: 1 Video 

“Fuuuuuuck babygirl… see what you do to me… need to be close to you, need to feel you… make you feel good like you deserve… this is all for you, I am all for you baby…”

Frankie has his cock pulled out of his unzipped jeans, still in his truck, pumping himself. You admire the size and girth of him, so thick and gorgeous. You know the sting and stretch of him entering you for the first time will be delicious. It’s so hot knowing he had to slip away from the guy's night to relieve himself—couldn’t even wait til he got home. 

“Been dreaming of you for months, always imagine you when I’m touching myself, you’re in all my thoughts baby… mierda I’m gonna come, fuck baby—unghhhhhh— gonna come so hard for you — ohhhhhhhh fuck…” 

Thick ropes of cum drip down his hand, where he’s slowly riding out his high, breath heaving in exhaustion. 

You: I think I just blacked out 

You: I came so hard watching you fuck

Frankie: Such a good girl, baby. You did so good making yourself come 

Frankie: Drink some water 😘

You: Thank you Frankie :) 🩷

You: chugging some water as we speak🫡 

Frankie: that’s my girl 

Frankie: get some sleep, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow 😘😘

BONUS: frankie's insta

tagging babes who might enjoy: @katiexpunk @evolnoomym @studioghibelli @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @sanarsi @tightjeansjavi @milly-louise <3333

@pedrostories

[bons-plans-automobiles]

Nissan électrifiera tous ses SUV jusqu’en 2025

Nissan s’est fixé un objectif pour 2025, tous ses SUV seront 100 % électriques. Les modèles concernés sont le Juke, le Qashqai et le X-Trail.

Crédit photo : thisguyhere de Pixabay

[zevrra]

thinking about (s1)vander today…how he probably loves cuddling. especially in the mornings when he first wakes up, still half asleep, grumbling a ‘good morning’ while pulling you into his arms even tighter.

or how he probably loves it even more when you wake him up with morning head. pulling him out of whatever dream he was having, just to find you under the covers, kissing down his stomach. following his happy trail like a guide to what you truly desire. he’d lovingly place a large hand on the top of your head, caressing you gently as you strip him of his boxers and get a full view of his morning wood. listening to him groan the second your hand wraps around his thick shaft. you press kisses into the angry red tip, glancing up through your lashes at the disheveled man.

“just couldn’t wait, huh?” he’d grumble but not as a complaint; he would never complain about this. not when your mouth replaces your hand and wraps around the head of his cöck. not when you looked so pretty doing it too. he’d simply pull your hair back and watch with an intense gaze as you did what you wanted.

oh and how he fucking loves it when you get all messy and sloppy with your blöwjöbs. turns him on to no extent when you make sweet, pitiful noises while gagging along his shaft. spit dripping down your chin as tears cling to your cheeks. he’d grunt and groan softly at your handiwork, never taking his gaze off of you. all it does is feed the fire burning in his lower abdomen.

[puppy4vi]

nsfw // eating vi out. that’s abt it ^.^

helping vi out after a stressful day of work.. getting her to relax on the sofa nd making sure she stays still. she’s always helping you out in more ways than one, so why not return the favor? 

you insist on helping her out as you massage her broad shoulders, and vi already has an idea on what you mean by ‘helping her relax’, but she can’t really say she minds it. she sits slump on the couch and lets you massage her shoulders for awhile. once she’s loosened up a little, you don’t hesitate to get on her lap nd start kissing her face all over- she can’t help but laugh a little as she knew it- you’re just as predictable as she is

your hands start sliding down her body to pull her shirt up, and your mouth starts moving down on her, from her face to her toned chest. once you successfully got her shirt fully off, your hands start to glide down to her jeans as you get on your knees for her <3 she helps you take off her belt, nd you immediately start kissing down her happy trail til you get to her boxers

you give vi a little puppy-dog eyed stare, looking for permission to go all the way - she giggles at your cute expression, and tugs a bit at your hair so she can slide her boxers off herself. once they’re fully off, she looks down at you with a grin- like she’s planning something

you try to open your mouth - to protest anything she’s about to do, but before you even got to say anything she gripped a handful of your hair nd pushed you into her wet cunt. she looks down at you with that little grin still plastered on her face. she pushes your head as close as possible to her cunt, her way of telling you to put your mouth to work- and you wouldn’t want to disappoint your girlfriend at all

you make sure kiss her folds and clit all over, keeping your eyes on her face to see what feels best for her. once you start to suck her clit - that’s when vi’s grip on your hair gets tighter, nd she lets out a whimper ♡ she always made sure to praise you, “just like that” and “good girl” coos out of her mouth whenever your tongue was on or passing her bud

vi wasn’t afraid to be loud with you around, her moans filling up the room as she gets closer to her orgasm. the grip she has on your hair doesn’t loosen either - but all you’re mainly focused on is her face of pleasure. Her mouth parted and her eyes barely opened, she looks at you with nothing but love nd lust

once she tells you she’s about to come, you plop your mouth back on her sensitive bud, kissing and sucking on her til her legs are trembling. when she orgasms, her grip on your hair painfully tightens - her hand pulls you closer to her cunt as she rides her high out on your face 

she makes sure she’s fully satisfied before she lets go of your hair, and when she looks down at you- her slick around your mouth and your hair disheveled, she can’t help but get riled up again. you feel her hands on her hips, and you’re plopped right back onto her lap. she spreads your legs and slides her hand up your thigh, she leans her mouth down to your ear nd whispers

“let me reward you” ♡ ♡

[aestum]

(by Josh Hild)

[chewingbatmanlikeasqueakytoy]

Why doesn't the justice league know about Amity Park?

Okay so it's been a bit sonce I watched the show but one of the things in DpxDC is the anti-ecto acts, which I love, but correct me if I'm wrong, I THINK ??? they only show up in reality trip? SO: What if Danny, when using the gauntlet to undo everything, also got rid of the Anti-Ecto acts? but this is babys first time editing reality so he uh Fucks Up A Lil'. As a result when Danny used the reality gauntlet to wipe the AEA from existence he accidentally wiped Amity Park from perception. A big 'nothing matters over here' jedi mind trick, and now no ones looking at Amity. So, the Justice League actually WERE looking into and monitoring the situation in Amity, but when the perception filter closed them off, all of that suddenly went ignored.

This is noticed when someone (Alfred, Dick, Tim, literally anyone) realises theres just. A BIG dusty pile of case files semi abandoned somewhere in the cave when going through a (time period)ly cave cleaning.

They put it down because it's Not Important.

They come back to finish the cleaning the next day and do the exact same thing, but there's nothing to actually distract them this time and it pings as weird. Because why would case files be not important? They are by definition important, because only things flagged as important go into case files.

They try to get someone else to read it, because as long as they don't read the information in the file, they don't put it down.

That person goes to read it, gets a line in and then says something like 'that isn't important' and goes to leave. Person A pushes it and person B ALSO catches on.

Que the Batfam trying to figure out hey, what the fuck actually?

Meanwhile, how is Amity fairing? Canon compliant everything's going alright? Or have knock on effects to No One Look Here started to show?

[danijaci]

You've heard of loser Diluc, now prepare for pathetic dog Haitham 😈😈😈🥀

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Please god give Eddie Munson a belly for the love of god please give him just a little chubby I cannot with the chiseled abs I need this man to have just a little bit of chub because he snacks occasionally and drinks Bud with uncle Wayne and doesn’t work out because he’s too busy writing bulette encounters. We as a society need to embrace chubby Eddie Munson.

[sugurusfav]

dragon men n their pretty back windows 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[dontmean2bepoliticalbut]

[syd-djarin]

private eyes - jack daniels x private investigator!f!reader (18+ MDNI)

this is for @iamasaddie little lady kinky may challenge! congrats on 2.5k! <333 I was paired with Jack / Voyeurism.

banner by: @cafekitsune

tags: voyeurism (reader watches jack), masturbation (m & f), reader is a private investigator, gratuitous descriptions of my fav cowboy stroking his big cock, dub-con a little? reader masturbates in her car but there isn't anyone around so public but private

a/n: this is the first fic I've completed in months. it's short and to the point, idk how i feel about it but it pushed me out of my writing slump! kinda want to do a part 2 for this, what do y'all think 👀

wc: ~1.6k

smut below the cut

 “I want you to catch that son of a bitch in the act.”

The visibly scorned woman, Camilla, sitting across from you asks through tears, ones that she hasn’t allowed to escape down her cheeks; catching them right at the waterline with an overused tissue.

This isn’t the first time a disgruntled, mistreated, or betrayed lover has sought out your services — no shortage of shitty men leaving trails of destruction while they pillage and greedily chase their own interests. She’s no different, seeking closure from the broken-off engagement from her now ex-fiancée, Jack Daniels. The pair had been together for a year, engaged for three months and one day, out of the blue, Jack broke it off. According to her, he didn’t give a concrete reason, something vague about being consumed with his job and that “she deserved a better life than that”. 

Of course you get paid a pretty penny for your work, but you take great pleasure in catching a man in the act. Whether the woman needs proof for divorce settlements, custody battles, or to just have leverage. Whatever the case may be, you find a gratification you don’t get anywhere else; the upheaval of a man trying to have his cake and eat it too. 

The conventionally attractive woman you couldn’t pick out of a line-up slides her homemade dossier across the coffee shop table, tacky & sticky from previous patrons. You flip through the information presented to you, taking mental notes as you go. You can’t deny the heat that rises up your face as you study the picture of your next target. The deep sable eyes resembling a baby calf’s are staring at you through the glossy photo paper. He’s sporting a mustache reminiscent of Burt Reynolds that is calling your name. His smirk is laced with a charming cockiness. 

“He’s quite the looker, I know. Hell of a lay, too,” her words snap you out of your daydream. Her words feel hollow, his looks are the only attributes she’s mentioned during the duration of the consultation. You're not getting paid for moral judgements and you remind yourself you don’t know the whole story. 

“Which is why I want to know who he’s fucking. I know there’s another woman, or maybe even a guy… he’d answer calls in the middle of the night and step into another room and I swear I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, he’d tell me he’s going on work trips… he works at a whiskey distillery, why the hell does he need to go on all these trips?” She explains, putting air quotes around ‘trips’ with her dainty, well-manicured hands, “he’d stay late at work a few nights a week, and then it turned into a nightly thing… Anyways, you come highly recommended, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down,” she adds. You’re not a fan of the passive aggressive, back-handed compliment she gives you, but ultimately you give her an understanding smile as you both rise from the table. 

“I’ll be in touch,” you tell her, as you exit. As cliche as that line is, you love saying it every time. 

Days of following Jack around have proven to be fruitless. The man has a simple routine: wakes up at six, traipses to the bathroom to begin his morning regimen of a showering, shaving and grooming his beloved mustache, and to conclude,  adorns his body in his tight denim jeans, a crisp button-down, a cowboy hat, and boots to match. You hate to admit it, and someone would have to waterboard this information out of you, but the hat is doing something for him. 

Or you. 

Whatever. 

He shops weekly on Wednesdays (he always puts the cart back inside the store, not the cart returns in the parking lot), takes the same route home everyday, watches Jeopardy while he eats dinner – you caught on quickly that he cooks during Wheel of Fortune, it appears he isn’t a big fan of Pat and Vanna, dishes promptly following Final Jeopardy and bed by nine. In three weeks Jack hasn’t had a single visitor, of any gender, leaves work at five like everyone else, the man isn’t adding up to be a cheating womanizer like Camilla had set him out to be. Not to say that he isn’t, but you’re not finding any evidence to support that claim. You’ve actually found yourself developing a crush on the man. He’s undoubtedly handsome, seemingly laid back despite his strict routine, and there’s something mysterious that lies beneath that you’re itching to unearth.

You’re parked discreetly across the street from his house. It’s a nice quiet street, with only two lamps to illuminate the surrounding neighborhoods, allowing you to stay shrouded in the night. 

You’re about to call it a night, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, when you notice a lamp turned on in the living room. Fortunately, the window faces the street, making your job that much easier for you. You pick up your binoculars to peer in, adjusting the focus for your prying eyes. Thank the universe he left his blinds open. 

He sits on the couch with his back facing you. It looks like he’s reaching for the remote, like maybe he’s having trouble sleeping, but when he settles back into the couch, you notice he’s butt ass naked, in all his glory. Even through the binoculars, you can see how big his cock is. Your mouth salivates at the sight, wanting to feel the stretch of him in all your holes. 

You’re not supposed to see this. Not at all. Usually in your assignments, you don’t get the full X-rated view, just the PG-13 suggestive one, and you are more than grateful for that. 

But not now.

You’re getting your own private peep show from the man you’re getting paid to spy on. You’re feeling like a grade-A pervert right about now but the sight is too glorious to look away. He spits on his hand, and languidly begins stroking his cock. He runs his other hand through his hair, his toned arms flexing with his movements, his chest heaving. 

It shouldn’t turn you on like it does. For one, it’s highly unprofessional. Secondly, he’s unaware he’s got an audience. Morally speaking, it’s definitely not your shining moment. But it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watching him tease and work himself up. You couldn’t pry your eyes away if you wanted to. 

Jack’s not the only one getting worked up; your clit throbs so hard you feel like it’ll go numb. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears thump-thump thump-thump. You let out a whine when Jack massages his tip, precum dribbling out like a sweet nectar you’d like to feast on. He continues his slow movements, dragging out his pleasure at a delicious and excruciating pace. Somehow, this makes the whole scene that much hotter; the display of restraint and discipline. You wonder if he does that with his lovers. Teasing, teasing, teasing, giving just enough to drive you insane before slowing almost to a stop. 

Possessed by desire, you haphazardly look for any lingering people outside before unbuttoning your pants to shove your hand to where it's needed most. You gasp at the cool air hitting your thinly clothed pussy, you can smell your own arousal seeped into your panties and it spurs you on further. You mirror Jack’s pace - teasing your lips with a featherlight touch, inching closer and closer to your needy clit, stopping just shy of it, to tease yourself more. It’s agonizing in the best way, taking your time like this. Normally, you like efficiency when making yourself come, rarely going the extra mile to turn the pleasure dial up, but this makes you question why you’re ever in a hurry. 

You reach your clit, going in gentle circles to match Jack’s unhurried pace. You wish you could hear the sounds he’s making, all the grunts and whimpers escaping his plush lips. 

He speeds up his strokes, now ravenous for his delayed release and so are you. Overtaken by the need to come, you drop the binoculars, letting them fall to the floorboard. You’re not even watching him anymore, having seen more than enough to commit to your spank bank. With your eyes closed and head pushing into the headrest, your mind is flooded with images of Jack fucking you slow, hard and deep, absolutely destroying your pussy – legs over his shoulders, hitting the spot that makes you scream and cry in euphoria. The image of him spilling into you, filling you up with his come is what tips you over the edge, your body shivers in bliss and you rock against your hand to ride out the high, feeling faint from the intensity. 

After you’ve recovered and fumbled your chance of ever seeing The Pearly Gates, you dare to look back to his house, to find all the lights back off. It’s a bit of a relief, feeling less shameful of what you’ve done now that you can’t see him at the moment. 

You button your pants backup and lean over to retrieve the forgotten binoculars from the floorboard, as your fingers grab them you hear a knock on the window. The sudden rap on the glass makes you flinch, feeling your skeleton attempt to flee from your corporeal body. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see Jack standing outside your car, leaning one forearm against the body so his face is level with yours. Fuck fuck fuck. You’ve been caught. Dizziness and nausea war within you as you roll down the window. You open your mouth to explain the situation, but words never escape your mouth. 

“You like watchin’ people don’t ya?” he asks, his tone is dark, but not angry. No, it’s something else entirely. 

“I–”

“‘S’alright. Caught onto ya pretty quick. A pretty face like yours ain’t hard to miss.”

“I– i’m sorry, um,” you scramble to find words, any words but Jack interjects again. 

“You like watchin’, but darlin’ I want to know, do ya like bein’ watched?”

[sk3tch404]

He be having 3 diff looks smh 🤦‍♀️

Eyelashes.... so pretty... but boy is so crazy... 😔