Page 111 of Masks and Mishaps

Essie inhales abruptly, and I capture her lips again. I’m a menace without a mask.

“Squirting is so messy,” she groans, pretending to be a girl who doesn’t handle messy things with the utmost grace—and also pretending to be a girl who hasn’t let tens of thousands of people see her devolve into a horny, shameless mess when her cunt gets filled.

“Sweetheart, you know I like to lick it up,” I reply, shifting my hand on her butt so my fingertips reach her asshole. “Come here. Let me feel your tits before I worship that wet pussy.”

I finally work my hand into the top of her dress and find her nipple pearled and eager to be toyed with. Transfixed, I take in the puffiness of her areola. It’s unbelievably beautiful. Her entire body is so viciously beautiful, and together, we’ve reached a level of intimacy I’ve never experienced before.

Essie is it for me. There’s no one else.

“Do you know if you can get pregnant?” I ask, dragging the pad of my thumb over the edge of her areola. My voice comes out low and slow and heavy—and sincere.

“If I didn’t have an IUD? I don’t know,” she replies while she watches me work her nipple. Her response is sincere too, not a terrified knee-jerk reaction. “I could find out.”

A smile spreads over my face with alarming speed. “You’d make me the most gorgeous babies, Essie,” I muse before I tend to her other breast. “I’d die to breed this body right now. I’m picturing you filled up and swollen, ready to burst, begging me to massage all the aches and pains while you grow our babies. You know you’re going to make me a real daddy one day, don’t you?”

She threads her hand through my hair and tugs my head back so I’m looking at her face rather than at the tits I’m envisioning heavy and leaking with warm milk. “You are a real daddy.”

I thrust my hips. “Tell me you want to be bred by my fat cock. Tell me you want me to fill you with cum until you grow a cute little pregnant belly for me. Tell me you want to give me a family,” I coax while she grinds down on my hand.

“I will,” she promises, groaning. “Are you going to take good care of me and our babies?” Her words now carry the frantic undertones that arise when she’s close. “Spoil us?”

Essie’s smile could wreck me. “Tell me. Promise me you’ll let me fill you with cum until it works. Promise me you’ll give us a family.”

“You’re allowed to do anything to my body,” she reminds me, articulating exactly what I had in mind. “Free-use, Daddy.”

That does it. I slam onto my knees, shove up her dress, and capture her clit between my lips until she climaxes in a gush and squirts her cum onto my face and shirt.

When I stand—messy as usual—the bulge in my pants is obvious. “Damn. I should have taunted you after I made you take my load.”

Essie rolls her eyes and tugs her stretched dress over her breasts. “As your girlfriend, I’ll happily let you leave your cum in me.”

My heart skips, and I scrub my hand over my damp mouth. “You’re my girlfriend?”

Essie nods, entirely unabashed, and I’m kind of obsessed. We never discussed it; she unilaterally decided we were in a relationship. She basically claimed me.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend,” I muse, speaking while I straighten my (very) damp shirt. “In high school, there was this girl who used to sit in my lap with her skirt, like, fanned around her. We did our homework together. That was probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to a girlfriend. But you’re mine?”

“And you’re my boyfriend—notmy brother.”

“Stepbrother,” I say for the last time before I close the space between us. “I love you,” I whisper before I bend and kiss her.

Essie sighs against my lips. “Will you say that every time you fuck me?”

“Even on camera?” I reply.

She pulls back, and when there’s enough space between us for me to make out her features, I see how deeply the furrow in her brow goes. “Camera?”

My face shifts into a frown as well. “Are you firing me?” I lower my hands to her butt and squeeze. “I’ve never been fired before.”

“Never? That shocks me.”

“It shocks everyone.”

“Well, our contract technically ends today—”

“I don’t need a contract,” I reply. “We made a killing on those two streams—even with the bullshit cut the site takes. I’ve told you: Nothing gets me hotter than helping you make money. Well, I take that back. You wearing thigh highs is up there. Oh, and you squirting, obviously.Obviously. I mean, if I’m ever on death row, I’d really like it if you just squirted on my face instead of a last meal.”

“I’ll consider it. But for now, we should go back to the party.”

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