His come leaking down my thighs

Chapter 5

The GPS chime on Bruno’s phone cut through the cave air, and I felt his c**k twitch inside me. I was already sinking down onto him, the wrapped wheel cold beneath my spread thighs, the wax bandage pressing against my c**t as I took him to the root. Thirty-two minutes. The screen glowed on the stone shelf beside us, Mona’s little blue dot crawling along the highway map, and I felt my inner walls clamp around him with the sound.

“Get dressed,” Bruno said, his voice rough, but his hands stayed locked on my hips. “She’s moving.”

I didn’t stop. I rode him slow, grinding my cunt against the wax sealant, feeling the paper tag labeled Reserve Batch No. 4 crinkle under my palm. The wheel squeaked beneath us, the sound muffled by the cheese’s dense weight, and I felt his c**k press deeper against my cervix.

“You’re not getting off,” I whispered, my voice breathy. “You’re not getting off until I say so.”

His grip tightened. “You think you’re in charge, girl?”

I felt his hands slide up my ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, and he flipped me onto my back without pulling out. The wheel rolled slightly under us, the wax cold against my spine, and I felt his c**k drag against my inner walls as he re-seated himself inside me. The GPS chimed again. Twenty-eight minutes.

“Daddy,” I gasped, my legs wrapping around his waist. “Please.”

He pulled out almost all the way, the head of his c**k catching on the rim of my entrance, then drove back in hard. The wet slap of our skin filled the cave, echoing off the stone walls, and I felt the wax bandage scrape against my c**t with every thrust. His hand landed on my throat, not squeezing, just resting there, and I felt my pulse hammering against his palm.

“You wanted to ride,” he said, his voice low. “Now you take what I give you.”

The phone chimed again. Twenty-four minutes. I felt his c**k slide deeper, the ridge dragging over the rough spot inside me, and I arched my back, my nails digging into the wheel’s wax coating.

“Yes, Daddy,” I sobbed. “Take me. Use me.”

He drove into me harder, the rhythm punishing, each stroke hitting my cervix. I felt my inner walls gripping him, trying to pull him deeper, and I heard the obscene wet sound of his c**k sliding in and out of my cunt. The wheel squeaked under us, the paper label crinkling, and I felt the cold wax against my hot skin.

“Your cunt is gripping me like a finished wheel,” he said, his thumb pressing against my c**t. “Softening inside. Ready for the final maturation.”

“Please,” I begged, my voice breaking. “Please, Daddy, fill me.”

He drove in deep and held, his c**k pulsing against my cervix, and I felt the first contraction start in my walls. The heat spread from my cunt to my belly, my thighs trembling, my vision blurring. He came with a guttural groan, hot come flooding my cunt, filling me to the brim, and I felt my own orgasm crash over me, my walls milking him.

The phone chimed. Eighteen minutes.

He pulled out slowly, his seed leaking down my thighs, warm against the cool cave air. I felt the come drip onto the wax bandage, pooling in the crease of the wheel, and I heard the wet trickle as it ran down the label. He grabbed the wax sealant from the shelf and pressed the brush against the paper tag, smearing my cream across the edge.

“This batch has your signature now,” he said, his voice rough.

I felt my face flush. The word our process slipped out before I could stop it. “Our process,” I whispered. “This is our process now.”

His eyes darkened. “Say that again.”

“Our process,” I repeated, my voice stronger. “You and me. This.”

He grabbed my hips and flipped me over, my ass in the air, my face pressed against the wheel’s cold wax. I felt his c**k slide back into my cunt, wet and slick with his come, and I gasped as he seated himself to the root. The GPS chimed. Twelve minutes.

“Daddy,” I moaned, my fingers curling into the paper label. “Please.”

He drove into me hard, his thrusts timed to the GPS chime. Each stroke hit my cervix, the head of his c**k pressing against the deep spot inside me, and I felt my inner walls clamping around him. The phone rang—Mona’s ringtone, sharp and shrill—and I froze.

Bruno didn’t stop. He drove deeper, his hand landing on my hip, holding me still as he reached for the phone with the other. I felt his c**k pulse inside me, his come still dripping from my cunt, and I heard his voice steady as he answered.

“Welcome home.”

Mona’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I’m early. The shift ended sooner than I thought. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I felt my cunt clench around him, the fear spiking through my veins, and I heard the wet sound of his c**k sliding inside me as he held my hips still. The phone microphone caught it—a soft, obscene squelch—and I saw Bruno’s eyes flick to the screen.

“What was that?” Mona asked, her voice sharp.

“The cave humidifier,” Bruno said, his voice calm. “It’s been making noise all day. I’ll check it when you get home.”

I felt my thighs trembling, my body fighting the urge to clamp shut, and I heard the wet trickle of his come leaking down my inner thigh. The fear made everything sharper—every stroke, every pulse of his c**k inside me—and I felt my walls tightening around him.

“Alright,” Mona said. “See you soon.”

The call ended. Bruno set the phone down and drove into me harder, his thrusts punishing, his hand landing on my ass with a sharp slap. I cried out, the sound muffled by the wheel, and I felt his come leaking from my cunt, warm against the cold air.

“You almost got us caught,” he said, his voice low. “You liked it. Your cunt is dripping.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I sobbed. “Fill me again. Please.”

He drove into me deep, his c**k pulsing, and I felt the second orgasm building in my belly. The heat spread from my cunt to my thighs, my toes curling, my breath catching in my throat. He came with a guttural groan, hot come flooding my cunt, filling me to the brim, and I felt my own climax crash over me, my walls milking him.

He pulled out, his seed dripping down my thighs, and I felt the come pool on the wax bandage, warm against the cold surface. The GPS chimed. Six minutes.

“Get dressed,” he said, his voice rough. “She’s almost home.”

I slid off the wheel, my thighs shaking, his come leaking down my legs. He grabbed the wax sealant and pressed the brush against the label, smearing my cream across the edge, and I saw the words beneath his hand: Reserve Batch No. 4. Do not open before the festival.

I felt a strange thrill run through me. The label said do not open before the festival. But I wanted Bruno to be the one who opened me. I wanted him to be the one who broke the seal.

He handed me my dress, and I pulled it over my head, his come still cooling inside me. The fabric clung to my thighs, wet and sticky, and I felt the evidence of what we’d done pressing against my skin. The GPS chimed. Four minutes.

“Dinner,” he said, his voice calm. “She’ll want dinner.”

I nodded, my voice catching in my throat. “I’ll set the table.”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close, his hand sliding under my dress, his fingers pressing against my cunt. I felt his come leak around his fingers, and I gasped.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low. “This cunt is mine. Remember that when you’re sitting across from her.”

I felt my face flush, the heat spreading from my cunt to my belly. “Yes, Daddy.”

The GPS chimed. Two minutes.

I walked up the cellar stairs, his come still cooling inside me, the wax bandage’s smell clinging to my skin. The door opened, and I heard Mona’s voice call out from the kitchen.

“I’m home!”

I felt my thighs shake as I walked toward her, the evidence of what we’d done pressing against my skin. She kissed the wheel hello, her lips brushing the paper label, and I saw her pause.

“The cellar smells sweeter than usual,” she said, her brow furrowing.

No one answered. I felt his come leak down my thigh, warm against the cool air, and I knew she’d noticed something. She just didn’t know what.