Pervert for Life

I asked her the question and then I just stood there and watched her try to find an answer that would not sound like a lie.

Her mouth opened. Nothing useful came out. Only that wet little sound she had been making since I walked in. The one that did not belong in a bathroom with the tap off and the door locked.

I could see everything. The dress still bunched at her hips. The lace hooked aside. The way her pussy stayed split around nothing, lips puffy and shiny, opening and closing like something thick was still working in and out of her. Cream kept welling up and running down the inside of her thighs in slow, heavy lines. It was not water. I had already wiped enough of it to know.

"Nothing," she got out. "A cramp. I told you."

I did not step back. I was close enough now that the heat coming off her skin hit me in the chest. Close enough to smell her. Not soap. Not the bathroom. Her.

"Your thighs are shaking," I said. I kept the voice soft. The same one I used in the hallway. "You just came on the towel. I felt it. A cramp does not do that."

She tried to close her legs. Whatever was inside her did not let her. I watched her hole stretch wider for a second, then cling, then leak again. A fresh bead of white slid out and caught on the lace before it dropped.

I told her to turn the water off. She reached for the tap with one hand. The movement made her hips jerk. Another filthy sound left her. The silence after the water stopped was worse. Now I could hear every wet slide, every small catch in her breathing.

I took the last half step and stood behind her. My chest almost touched her back. I looked over her shoulder into the mirror. She was watching me watch her. Her face was wrecked. Flushed. Eyes glassy. Mouth open like she could not remember how to close it.

"You keep clenching," I said. "Like something is inside you. But there is nothing there."

She told me to go. I told her I was not leaving her like this. That she could barely stand. That if she hit the tile I would have to explain it to everyone downstairs. I picked up the towel again and started at her knee.

The cloth dragged up the inside of her thigh, slow, collecting what kept coming out of her. When I reached the crease where her thigh met her ass I felt her whole body jump. More of it spilled onto the towel. Warm. Thick. I did not pull away.

"You are still leaking," I said. "It is not stopping."

I turned the towel and wiped higher. The edge of the fabric brushed those swollen lips. Not quite on purpose. Not quite by accident. She jerked hard. Both hands slammed onto the sink. Her head dropped. She came again, quieter this time, shaking, a thin stream of it running over my knuckles.

I froze with the towel still pressed to her.

"Mom."

She could not answer. I watched her in the mirror. I watched her hole flutter and spill. I watched the way her breasts hung heavy over the sink and swayed every time whatever was using her drove up.

I dropped the soaked towel in the sink. My bare hand stayed on her thigh.

Her skin was burning. I told her that. I told her she kept making that sound when I touched her there.

My thumb moved. Just a little. It traced the wet trail upward until it rested against the edge of her stretched hole. I did not push in. I only held it there and felt her clench around empty air. Felt the heat pour out of her onto my skin.

"Do not," she whispered.

"I am not doing anything," I said. "I am just holding you so you do not fall."

Something slammed into her from the inside. I saw it in the way her body lifted onto her toes. I saw it in the way her pussy clenched so hard around nothing that more cream welled around my thumb and ran over it. She came again, shaking, a broken noise trapped in her throat. I did not move my hand. I watched the mirror. I watched her face twist. I watched her hole wink and drip.

When the shaking eased I spoke again, quieter.

"You said it was a cramp. A cramp does not make you come three times while I stand here. A cramp does not make you this wet."

My thumb pressed a fraction closer. The pad of it landed on her swollen clit. She made a sound I had never heard from her before. Her knees gave. I got my other arm around her waist and held her up against my chest. She was burning. She was soaked. She was still getting fucked by something I could not see.

I felt myself hard against the small of her back. I did not mention it. I just kept her standing while whatever was inside her started those deep, slow strokes again. I could feel every one of them through her body. The way she lifted. The way she clenched. The way more of it ran down over my hand.

"Tell me," I said against her hair. "What is using you right now."

Her mouth opened. No words. Only another wet sound as she was filled and emptied and filled again.

Downstairs a chair scraped. Someone called her name through the walls.

My arm tightened around her waist.

"They are going to come looking if you do not answer soon," I said. "So either you tell me the truth, or I open this door and let them see you like this."

She clenched so hard around nothing that I felt it in my wrist. The lock sat two feet away, thrown, waiting. I kept my thumb on her clit and my arm around her and I waited to see which one she would choose.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!