Page 54 of Hot Summer's Prey

“I wish I could see you better,” I say.

“Mmm, good,” he growls, thrusting his sifon hard between my cheeks.

I roll my ass towards him, captivated by the feel of him using me like this. His sifon is so long it teases across my asshole and against my pussy. His hand grinds into my clit as I ride his sifon. His free hand scratches lightly across my stomach, pushes up against my breast, rubs and teases my nipple. I turn my head towards him, needing his mouth on mine. He obliges, almost purring against my mouth.

And then he turns his whole fucking body into a vibrator again. Earlier, when we were swimming down here, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and now it’s happening. Coming instantly was a given, but then he pushes me, plays with me until I’m coming again and again. I feel his sifon press up between my lips, sucking at them—and now I know why—it’s gathering my… magic.

With one more kiss, Pacari spins me around until I’m facing him. I watch as his hand strokes up and down his sifon.

“Let me—” I start, but he floats back.

“No, let me show you,” he murmurs.

I watch patiently—or at least as patiently as I can. My own fingers find their way to my clit, my other hand squeezing my breasts and playing with my nipple as I watch him. Though I can’t see his expression, I feel the shift. The way he strokes harder. So do I. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of its chest as I try to extract another orgasm, this time on my own. Though I can only imagine what he looks like in light, there’s a beauty to the shifting shadows and the near-lighthouse beacon glow to his sifon.

Then finally, he shudders. Little glowing orbs pop from his sifon once again, this time blue.

“Do they always change color?” I ask.

“Mm… different types of sex, different partners, different types of orgasms… they all contribute to what comes out.”

“What does blue mean?” I ask, picking up one of the pearls in my fingers.

I squeeze it, testing how it feels compared to the pearls Pacari so desperately needed us to collect only moments ago.

“You made a wish, which strengthened them. But not as powerful a hope as our first time. Pop it,” he instructs.

I furrow my brow, squeeze the pearl in my hands. It pops, a cloud of light spilling out—almost like the anemone from earlier. “Oh!”

Pacari bends to collect the rest of the pearls before grinding them in his hands and throwing them over our heads. In a moment, the entire cave is lit up. It’s not nearly as colorful like this—the beautiful bioluminescence lost in the excess of light. Some of the animals are so dull and colorless they’re almost ugly, but then the light fades just enough that I can fully see Pacari and still see the light of the cave’s inhabitants.

Pacari pulls me close, pulls us down, his eyes alight with some sort of mischief.

“I have another find from the wreckage,” he says, leaning against my ear. “Though originally I brought it here to see how the fish would react… now I want to see your reaction.”

“My reaction?” I repeat.

He spins me around, presses close behind me as we sink to the very bottom of the grotto. The light from his cum pearls sinks with us, and I am suddenly so aware of my own body in these depths. And I like it. I watch the rise and fall of my breasts as I breathe, admire how erect my nipples are. It’s moments like this I love my body—this, and like earlier when we were dancing. But the pride I feel in how I look sometimes feels like a little secret I have with myself. Though when I’m on stage performing for hundreds of thousands of people, it feels like I’m sharing it.

At least it does, until the execs talk to us afterwards about how “it’s good to get the fat girl money, but can she lose some fucking weight.”

I’m a bad fucking bitch, hot as hell, and I’m sick of people like them thinking I’m not.

“Look, Teresa,” Pacari murmurs against my ear. “Look at yourself.”

Then I see the mirror nestled at the bottom of the grotto. And holy fuck do we look hot together. He slides his fingers over my legs, massaging my inner thighs.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he says. “Look at these thighs, how gorgeous they are—these muscles.”

He purrs against me.

“My mark,” he says, and I can feel the smile on my neck before I see it in the mirror.

I watch as he traces the tender spot with his finger. My leg jumps away out of reflex, but he grips me hard and holds me.

“Mm, I’m not done,” he threatens.

A shiver runs through me and I arch my back at the promise. His hands trail up my sides, along my belly.

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