Everything’s on Tape #2 – From Milly’s Perspective
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FROM MILLY’S PERSPECTIVE
I’m still on Frank’s couch, legs trembling, dress bunched up under my ribs. My eyes keep going back to my pussy – hairy, swollen, the lips dark and slick, his cum already beginning to leak out. Frank’s cock is only half-hard now, still thick, streaked with milky white, just centimeters away from the mess he left inside me. I feel raw, sore, every nerve on edge. For a moment, I’m angry – at him, at myself, at how hungry I’d become.
He catches my look, shrugs, still sprawled out and satisfied. “Why aren’t you just on the pill, anyway? You get so worked up about a little raw fucking.”
I snap back, maybe sharper than I mean: “I am on birth control. That’s not the point, Frank.” I want to shout, but I’m too exhausted. “I broke our rule. And it’s all on video. Tom’s going to see it, every second, the way I begged you, the way you filled me. I can’t…” My voice cracks. I can’t even look at the phone, still propped up on the stack of books.
Frank just laughs, shakes his head, stands and tucks himself away. “You could just… not show him. Delete it. Tell him the video cut out.”
I hate how sensible that sounds. My head’s spinning, heat and guilt twisting together. Maybe he’s right. I reach for my phone, hands shaking, unlock it and press stop. I don’t look at the footage – can’t risk seeing my own face, the way I looked begging, the way I came. I just swipe, select, and delete. The secret’s gone in a heartbeat.
Frank grins, already half-dressed. “You tell him it glitched. Next time I’ll have rubbers.” He slaps my ass as I pull my dress back down, and I barely even feel it – I’m already half-gone.
I hurry home, thighs sticky, my insides aching and full. I try not to think about the sperm still slowly seeping out of me, about what I’ve done, about how easy it was to lie to myself in the moment.
Tom’s waiting at the door, eyes shining with excitement, almost bouncing in place. “Did you get it?” he blurts, before I’ve even set my bag down.
I shake my head, forcing a tired little smile. “Something went wrong with the recording. I only got a couple seconds – must have stopped it by accident when we started. I’m sorry.”
His face falls, disappointment so sharp it makes me feel sick. “Oh. That sucks. I was… I was really looking forward to it.” He looks down at his feet, shifting nervously. “Was it good, at least?”
I nod, not trusting myself to say more. “Yeah. It was fun. A lot.”
He looks at me, pleading now. “Can I… can I at least lick you? Please? I’ve been thinking about it all day. Please, Milly.”
I want to refuse. The cum inside me feels like a mark, a line I crossed that can’t be erased. But the need in his eyes is too much – I can’t stand to see him beg. I sigh, set my phone aside, and climb out of my dress. As soon as my panties touch the floor, I move them under the bed with my right foot so that Tom does not notice the cum stains.
“Fine,” I say, more sharply than I mean.
He’s on the floor already, hands on my hips, mouth open. I straddle his face, letting my weight settle on him, the familiar tingle of power and shame prickling up my spine. I feel his tongue immediately, hot and desperate, lapping between my folds.
It feels different – messier, slipperier, the lube and latex of the condom gone. I can feel the slick, sticky mix of Frank’s cum and my own still pooled deep inside. Tom’s tongue finds it, nudges it, and I can’t help but tense, a shiver running through me as he starts to suck and lap more hungrily.
He must taste it – the salt, the faint bitterness, something thicker and strange. I hear him groan, feel his breath hot against me, the way his hips grind into nothing, frantic and needy.
I keep my eyes closed, hips rolling, letting him work, letting him taste the truth he’ll never see on video. It takes him a long time, but finally he shudders and moans – his face slick, his hands trembling as he cums, untouched, just from the taste and smell and the mess I’ve brought home to him.
When I climb off, he looks up at me, lips glossy, eyes wild, face shining with sweat and something more. He doesn’t say a word, but I can see everything he feels in that one, hungry, desperate stare.