I Confess My Obsession with Camila’s Smile

That night I decided to give myself over completely to a whim that had been haunting me for weeks. I shaved my balls carefully in front of the bathroom mirror, washed my ass thoroughly with scented soap, and spent a good while under the hot spray of the shower. I knew exactly what I wanted and, above all, I knew who could give it to me without asking for explanations in return: Camila, my beloved Camila, the girl with the eternal smile.

The date had been set for eleven at night. At eleven ten the intercom rang, and two minutes later she came through the door with a small backpack slung over one shoulder and a thin coat over her shoulders. She gave me a quick kiss at the corner of my mouth and went straight into the bathroom without saying a word. When she came out, she was wearing a white blazer, long enough to reach mid-thigh, with nothing underneath. The jacket fit her in all the right places: it hinted at the shape of her small, firm breasts and, in the open chest, showed a pair of nipples already hard. Down below, between the legs, beneath the last unbuttoned button, a tuft of coppery, curly pubic hair peeked out, one she kept groomed as if it were a work of art.

Camila had just turned twenty-three. She was tall, wiry, athletic, with a long neck, slender arms, and the firm back of an amateur swimmer. Her hair was a murky chestnut brown with reddish glints that changed with the light, and her face was always ready for enthusiasm, as if everything in life seemed fun to her. That night, too, she had a red plastic pacifier between her lips, pulled from God knows where, and she worked wonders with it: she sucked on it, bit it, let it dangle from a canine, spat it out and caught it again between her teeth. I almost came just watching her.

This girl is crazy, I thought. And that’s why I’m here.

What hooked me most about Camila was that she rose to challenges. She had a small, almost childlike mouth, and that made any dick even a little on the large side a complicated undertaking. Another girl would have looked for comfortable positions, gentle techniques, shortcuts. Not Camila. Camila faced the situation head-on, threw herself into it with full enthusiasm, and always did it smiling, always smiley, as if difficulty were half the pleasure. That gesture of hers, that permanent smile while she took my cock into her mouth, was her greatest charm.

—Do you like how I dressed for you? —she asked, taking the pacifier out of her mouth with a wet sound.

—Take off the jacket —I said.

She obeyed without taking her eyes off me. The blazer fell to the floor and revealed two swollen nipples pointed upward and a pubis trimmed in the pattern of a perfect zigzag, like a lightning bolt drawn between her legs. Camila loved being creative with her hair. Once, on Valentine’s Day, she’d shaved her pussy into a tiny heart. Another time she left it like an arrow pointing downward. On one occasion I’d rather forget, she showed up with her pubic hair cut into the shape of a furry swastika, and I wasn’t amused in the slightest. I had to tell her that kind of nonsense wasn’t welcome in my house, and since then she limited herself to innocent geometric shapes. That night: the zigzag.

I gently pushed her by the shoulders so she’d kneel. She dropped down without resistance, with a conspiratorial grimace, and opened her lips even before I took my cock out of my boxer briefs. When I did, when I gripped my hardened cock and brought it up to her face, she welcomed it with a greedy look, like a child offered a big candy.

I didn’t let her go straight to the point. I dragged my dick across her cheeks, first the left and then the right. I brushed her lips without putting anything in yet. I rubbed her chin. I lifted my balls up to her nose and she sniffed them avidly, as if she wanted to inhale the few hairs I’d missed with the trimmer. I ran my balls over her forehead, her eyebrows, the start of her hairline, then rubbed them again across her nose, her lips, her cheekbones. I didn’t stop until I was sure she would smell me on her face for the rest of the day, until my scent became part of her skin.

—Open —I ordered her.

She opened, of course. And then I rammed her without mercy. I shoved my cock down her throat as far as it would go, several times in a row, drawing a sound like a splash each time my cock slid into her mouth full of saliva. My balls tried to smack her chin with every thrust, though not quite managing it. Despite all her efforts, and the truth is she really gave herself over to it with heat, there wasn’t enough room in her small mouth. Her teeth grazed my shaft with every movement, and from time to time a gag rose up from her beautiful flat stomach. Camila didn’t pull away. She swallowed saliva, breathed through her nose, and opened her mouth again.

And always smiling. Always smiley.

***

—Get on all fours —I said.

She got into position on her knees and elbows, her back arched and her ass raised. I liked seeing the roundness of her ass cheeks while I rubbed my cock against her face from a different angle. I circled around her like an animal stalking its prey, gave her thigh a gentle slap, stroked her back with my open palm. Then I positioned myself in front of her face, bent down, squeezed my balls together, shoved them into her mouth, and left them there for a good while while I jerked off at a slow, deliberate pace.

She sucked them as if they were candy, eyes closed and a purr rising from her throat. Half a minute later I grabbed her by the hair, hauled her back up onto her knees, and ordered her to cross her arms behind her back, just above her ass. I wanted to fuck her mouth properly without the obstacle of her hands.

—Stay still —I told her—. Don’t move from there.

She nodded with her eyes. Obedience thrilled her. I held her head by the nape and started moving, in and out, setting the rhythm myself. After a few thrusts, her face turned red from the lack of air. A tear of exertion traced down her cheek and mixed with the line of saliva dripping from her chin.

I laid her on her back with her legs bent, giving her a breather. In that position I had a clear view of her small tits with nipples as hard as rubber and her stomach indented by a perfect little navel. I also got a privileged view of the zigzag-trimmed pussy and the pink labia, prominent, slightly parted. Not a single hair remained in the shaved groin around her vulva. The opening was wet, shiny, clearly tempting, but I didn’t fuck it. That wasn’t what I had in mind that night.

What I did was mount her astride, with my knees slightly bent, and offer her the crack of my ass. Camila had a prodigious talent for moving her tongue between my cheeks. She spent a long time doing wonders down there, alternating long licks with little pointed pushes. She grabbed my hips with both hands, used them to position her face, never got tired. I love girls who prefer to suck and lick rather than fuck, and Camila was one of them. With her tongue she did things no pussy could ever replicate.

—Jesus Christ —I murmured before I could stop myself—. Jesus Christ.

She laughed under her breath, her mouth still pressed against my skin, and the vibration of her laughter shook my spine.

***

When I’d had enough pleasure, when I felt I couldn’t hold back any longer without finishing, I stood up, turned around, and shoved my cock back between her teeth. I emptied all my load into her mouth in several spasms, gripping her hair, biting my lip so I wouldn’t shout. Camila never objected to getting my cum on her tongue, and that night was no exception. When I pulled the tip from her mouth, she gargled with the semen while looking at me, and then proudly showed me the result: the cavity of her mouth was overflowing with white substance mixed with bubbling saliva.

Camila sucked with difficulty, yes, but she swallowed without blinking. However, that night she didn’t swallow my load. She spat it into the palm of her hand, examined it curiously, as if it were an experiment, and suddenly looked at me, smiled in that wicked way of hers, and slapped the whole mess of semen and saliva onto her left cheek. Then she rubbed it all over her face with vigorous motions, smearing her forehead, her cheekbones, her chin. Her jaw glistened, a drop slid down to her collarbone, and another broke free and landed directly on her navel.

She laughed again. A genuine laugh, no performance, with her small, stiff nipples bobbing up and down in time with the laughter.

—Why do you do that? —I asked, stunned.

—Because I feel like it —she replied.

Sometimes Camila surprised me with antics like that. Once, during a threesome we arranged with one of her friends, after I’d eaten her out she spat my cum straight into the other girl’s face. The friend didn’t find it funny at all; she got up in a huff and went to the bathroom to wash up, but Camila burst out laughing for a good while. My beloved Camila was a little unhinged, but she never, ever lost her smile while doing all kinds of filthy things, and that, precisely that, was what made her terribly sexy.

She stayed lying on the floor, legs spread, her face still varnished with semen and her breathing ragged. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her in silence. She reached out, took hold of one of my feet, brought it to her lips, and kissed the top of my foot as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Then she laughed again, for no apparent reason, and her nipples bounced once more.

—Did you like it? —she asked, looking at me with that smile of hers, that impossible smile.

I didn’t know what to answer her. I nodded. It was all I could do.

That was her, my Camila. Always willing, always clearheaded, always a little crazy. Always smiling, always smiley, while doing the dirtiest things a man can have done to him in a bed.