Page 78 of Hidden Desires

Sure enough, the chat explodes again as my man works the plug in and out of my backdoor as I take the dildo with two hands. I fuck myself with the enormous length, mewling and screaming as my big breasts bobble.

“Oooh!” I squeal breathlessly, working the massive toy into my slick channel. “Mmm!”

“Get a third for her mouth!” the chat practically screams. “Do it, do it.”

Jack obliges. He picks up a third dildo and taps it at my lips. Immediately, I open my mouth and swallow the monster, moaning as it makes it way down my throat. When I’m plugged full three ways, Jack fondles my breasts, strokes my clit, and gives instructions. “Swallow more, sweetheart. All the way in. Good girl. Show them how much you can take.” It’s too much. I’m plugged full three ways, and the ripple starts deep in my belly. Then, it explodes and my orgasm isn’t faked, not even close—I squeeze around the toys in my pussy and ass, all the while sucking a giant dildo in my mouth. A short, shrill scream escapes from my muffled mouth as I come apart on camera.

“Mmmm!” I squeal, eyes wide behind my mask as my breasts shake. “Ummm!”

Jack holds the dildos in place because my spasms are so powerful that they might be pushed out. He watches with unbridled approval as my pussy and ass clench.

“Beautiful,” he growls. “That a girl, Bunny. Fuck yeah.”

The chat is a flood of admiration and filth, but also a kind of worship. “You two are made for this,” someone writes, and for a second I want to cry at how right it feels. We are naturals. I moan, shiver, and tremble, as Jack strokes my clit through my climax, murmuring soothing words. I can barely hold myself up, plugged full and airtight the way I am.

At the thirty-minute mark, the viewer count is triple our highest ever. I’m empty at the moment, but not for long. I do a topless lap-dance on Jack, hands on his mask, rocking slow and deep before gently spreading my legs and pushing myself down on his giant shaft. Even after being stretched by toys, it’s still not easy. He pulls my hair, gentle at first, then rougher, and for a second I’m not Bunny, or even Eliza, just a creature made of hunger.

The dollars are rolling in. The chime from the computer is so constant and loud it’s almost like a siren now. Jack spreads my butt cheeks wide, the better to show off the movement of his stiff shaft in and out of my slick pussy. We end with a final showstopper: Jack, coming hard in my cunt, and then pulling out and showing off my just-fucked opening. A bead of semen coagulates at my tiny vag before streaming down one ivory thigh, and the chat practically explodes with appreciation.

“Fuck yeah!” one dude writes.

“More,” another adds.

“When can I fuck her. I’ll do anything to make it happen,” a third chimes in.

That’s our cue. We say goodbye, promising a next time, and then kill the stream.

When the lights are off and the gear powered down, Jack scoops me up and carries me to bed. We lie there, both still masked, breathless and giddy.

“You were amazing, Bunny,” he says.

I take off my mask, hair plastered to my forehead, and smile sweetly. “You too, Wolf.”

The room is a mess of tangled sheets, sticky toys, and sweat-damp hair. I’m utterly boneless, legs splayed, still wearing a few pieces of tight latex, and not caring if I ever stand up again. My body aches in all the right places.

But then, Jack’s laptop on the dresser starts pinging—a rapid-fire succession of cash-register chimes, each one a tip or a new subscription. I groan, roll over, and watch him prop himself up on an elbow to check the dashboard.

He whistles, low and awed. “Holy shit, sweetheart. We made more in an hour than I did in a month at the Air Force. Maybe two months.”

I peek over his shoulder. The numbers don’t even look real. My face forms a coquettish smile. “Told you we’d be good together.”

He glances at me, and his return smile is the kind that makes you believe in every dumb cliché about true love. “You were right, Bunny. You’re always right.”

We lie there for a while, listening to the digital applause roll in, until the sweat dries and the ache becomes a shiver. He peels the bodysuit off me, careful and sweet, then scoops me up and carries me to the shower.

The spray is hot, and the air fogs instantly. I lean into him, letting his hands run soap along my back, shoulders, and everywhere in between. I scrub his massive back, and then run my hands appreciatively along those six-pack abs.

“Next time,” Jack says, rinsing my hair, “I want to try the new swing. Maybe some candle wax, too.”

I smile sweetly. “You’re getting cocky, Captain.”

He bites my shoulder, playful. “I have you to blame.”

After, we wrap up in robes, pour two glasses of the fizzy champagne we keep for special occasions, and park ourselves in front of the laptop to read the chat replay. There are jokes, dirty memes, and even a couple of marriage proposals. I type a general thank-you message to the crowd as Bunny, and Jack adds a line as Wolf: “You asked for it, you got it. See you next week.”

He closes the browser, and then immediately opens up a travel site. “What are we going to do with all this cash, sweetheart? Do you want to go on vacation? Maybe someplace sunny.”

I scoot closer, chin on his shoulder, and watch as he clicks through beach bungalows in Bali, overwater huts in the Maldives, and finally a remote log cabin in Iceland. “You know,” I say, “for a guy who used to travel non-stop, you’re still really into it.”