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“You’re pouting…” Camilla said, after Leon had got up to go to the bathroom and Xander had taken the opportunity to excuse himself to take a quick phone call. More’s the pity. The food had arrived in their absence.
“I’m not pouting,” Nozomi corrected.
“Of course not. Perish the thought.” Camilla lilted an eyebrow, idly twirling a bit of her bolognese around her fork. “You’ve just spent the past three minutes silently muscling pasta around your plate because you’re planning an important, paccheri-based offensive come morning.”
“Fine, I’m pouting! Can you blame me?”
“If it were any other reason, I’d cancel the trip, but it’s the partners… they’re…” Camilla bit her lip. Parleying for Nozomi’s forgiveness, she offered a chagrined smile. “Well you know how it is in my family…” She glanced at the bar, where Corrin had found Azura coming in the door, and now the two of them blithely chatted away while waiting for their drinks. “No one but me seems able to get anything done.” A feigned helplessness in the shrug of her shoulders. “Besides, I’ve seen your slate of upcoming events. It’s not as if I’ll find you staring at the door, swimming in empty bon-bon wrappers when I return. You’ll be so busy you’ll hardly notice I’m away.”
Nozomi crossed her arms. “But it’s your birthday!”
“What’s a birthday but an arbitrary celebration of time spent? I’ll still be just the same when I come back—paunchy, dried up, sagging in spots, and a few weeks older. Consider it a reprieve.”
Her wife ducked her head. “Why do you say things like that about yourself?”
At that empathetic question, Camilla bit her lip, and cast her eye down to the table. “I—”
“It’s not that I’m mad, I…” Nozomi sighed. “I wanted to do something special. It’s been such a long year and…”
Camilla reached across the table to squeeze Nozomi’s wrist. “We’re having a birthday dinner, right now. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“No, I wanted a birthday dinner, not a T-Minus Four Days Until Birthday Dinner, because my wife’s going to be halfway across the planet on her actual birthday.”
“It’s just a date, love. What does it matter?”
“It’s a big date! You’re turning—”
“Ah ah.” Camilla cut her off with a cluck of her tongue. A pressed-on smile. “Let’s not say any numbers aloud, lest they become real.”
Nozomi’s bangs fluttered with a huff of air. A pent-up look wrinkled her brow. She turned a bit red, even. She opened her mouth to speak… but…
Camilla tilted her head. “What?”
“It’s just…” Nozomi ran a finger through her hair, looking thoughtful. “You always talk about how you don’t have any good memories associated with your birthday, how you’d always rather avoid it. I just thought this year we could…” She sighed. “I don’t know, fix that.”
“Well, dear.” Camilla dabbed at her lips with her napkin, and folded her hands into her lap. “If you have any ideas on how to fix a day that’s never caused me any serious consternation before while we’re spending it approximately three thousand miles apart, I’m all ears…”
An invisible bolt of lightning struck Nozomi, judging by how quickly she shot upright. “Ah!”
“Mm? What’s that?”
Nozomi’s eyes went to treacherous slits, she grinned. “Oh, nothing.”
“Nozomi… I know that look.”
“Look? What look?”
“Dear, please.” Camilla’s light chuckle tinkled in time with the clinking wine glasses two tables over. “You always been absolutely abysmal at keeping secrets. Just what got into your head a moment ago?”
“Nothing!” Nozomi belted out, cheerily, commanding a blank slate of innocence from her expression. Xander et al had all gravitated towards one another and shared their greetings at the bar and now, fortuitously, were plodding their way back to the table en masse. Grateful for the reprieve, Nozomi escaped the scrutiny of her wife’s gaze by hopping up to meet them, spreading her arms wide. “Azura, Corrin, it’s been an age!”
Camilla tilted her head, watching her go, a game smile spreading across her lips as she dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin.
“Check, check, is this thing on?”
The camera panned up Camilla’s stockinged feet, black pencil skirt, and half-undone aqua blouse to reveal her smiling face. She shook her head with mock annoyance, and flipped her hair out as she examined herself in the bedroom mirror. “Nozomi, darling, you know it’s on. You’re holding it.”
“Camilla, that’s just what they say in the movies! And anyway, I won’t be holding it for long!”
The microphone rattled and rustled, and after a brief hit of auto-focus, it focused on Nozomi giving a V-sign. “Hello world, it’s me, Non-tan! Reporting live from…” She spread her free arm as wide as it would go. “The phone of my beaaaauutifuuuuuul wife.”
“Nozomi.” Camilla clucked her tongue as she bent over, tucking her left foot into one of her efficient black flats. “Whatever you’re planning, I do have a flight to catch…”
Nozomi set her free hand on her hips and her cheeks puffed in exaggerated pout. “Which is exactly why we’re here, my dear! You didn’t think I was going to let my big, beautiful, workaholic of a wife escape without her birthday present, did you?”
Camilla’s husky chuckle echoed from behind the camera. “So, what did you have in mind?”
“First,” said Nozomi, strutting forward until Camilla’s blouse filled the camera’s frame. “I’m going to finish what you started.”
As the camera focused on Nozomi’s hand, deftly opening each of Camilla’s blouse buttons, Camilla said, “Undoing what I started, you mean.”
“Same difference!” The prompt dismissal, and her spot behind the camera, lent an aura of command to her voice. The auto-focus sketched a blurry, then crisp, outline of Camilla’s cleavage in her lacy bra.
“Ohhh,” Nozomi narrated. “Someone must have a very important business meeting. Who do you plan on impressing, wearing that, while your poor, desperate wife waits at home, alone, all the way on the other side of the country?”
“Why darling, are you implying I’m not satisfied at home?”
“Nothing of the sort, I’m hurt that you’d even think that. Buuuuut…”The camera panned to reveal Nozomi’s brooding, lecherous grin, how it contrasted with the lock of hair she coquettishly curled around her finger. “I’m certainly not going to let you leave until we confirm that you are, m’dear!”
And then—a thump! The camera went dark.
The thump of bodies into the soft mattress. The rustle of knees through the blankets. The energetic smack of lips against lips.
Voices muffled by the thick comforter. “Go ahead and pick that up, babe.”
A rack focus down over Camilla’s breasts, Nozomi astride her hips. The camera wandering up Nozomi’s body, drinking her pride pose. Nozomi’s lips, moist with their frantic kisses, and her hair, just a touch disheveled. It followed her as her body descend, a feline crawl atop her wife. She dipped her nose, tracing the gently quivering valley of Camilla’s breasts, and placed a tender kiss between them. Quite out of sight of Nozomi, but not the camera, Camilla’s toes curled on either side of Nozomi’s hips.
“Now then…” Nozomi sat up. The camera followed her. Gently, her fingers scooped each breast free of Camilla’s bra. Fingertips roved lightly over large nipples. Nozomi’s tongue flickered over her lips, and she looked in deep concentration.
“Again, I hate to rush you.” Camilla’s breasts and stomach shivered gently with her mirth. “But I do have a car coming.”
The camera struggled to keep Nozomi in frame, as she reached past it, tipping up Camilla’s chin.
The soft, wet sound of Nozomi pressing her finger past Camilla’s lips, just out of sight of the camera.
“Until that camera’s off.”
Leaning forward, she braced her weight atop Camilla.
“You’re on my time.”
Camilla groaned with the soft imprint of Nozomi’s palm against her stomach. The camera shuddered, then righted itself. When it did, it was to the tresses of Nozomi’s hair swaying idly across Camilla’s stomach. The camera refocused, drawing a bead on Nozomi’s face as her head inclined, and she traced her nose along the soft, generous flesh of Camilla’s stomach. Then, the briefest touch of lips. The barest mention of a kiss. An intake of breath from behind the camera. Nozomi’s pert tongue slipped past her lips, inscribing a glistening trail down the center line of Camilla’s body. Extending down. Down. Down.
Nozomi patterned lazy kisses around the swell of Camilla’s belly. Camilla’s hips writhed like the sinews of a hungry serpent. The tip of Nozomi’s tongue traced the ring of Camilla’s belly button. The camera shook with the anticipation of the hand holding it.
Then, with all due gravity, Nozomi extended her tongue, proud and firm, and pierced her ring.
A gasp broke the room. Camilla’s hips flexed upwards, bucking against Nozomi’s bracing weight, and the camera dipped in her shivering hand, barely framing the writhe of their bodies together before tumbling down into the darkness of the comforter.
Giggling. The two of them tussling with one another, and the camera being flung hither and thither through the sheets with the motions of their bodies. The grunts of effort as Nozomi tried to get the upper hand on her much taller wife, subsumed quickly by her giggles growing into shrieks.
“Do you give in?” Camilla intoned.
“Never!” came Nozomi’s ardent reply.
The camera flipped end over end. A momentary glimpse of Nozomi’s face, sweaty and red as an apple. Camilla was astride her back, with one of Nozomi’s arms locked in her grip. Nozomi squirmed, seeking any opportunity for escape and the camera, jostled by the motions of their bodies, scuffled off to some distant valley of the comforter and went dark once more.
“Let it be known!” Camilla speaking firmly, despite her panting breath. “This is your final chance for quarter.”
“I won’t yield!”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Further shrieks, giggles, and gasps abounded in the darkness of the camera’s eye. When the camera returned, it was Camilla holding it, legs slung off the side of the bed, and her wife kneeling before her, Camilla’s knees pinning Nozomi’s head.
“Now, then, my pretty captive: are you going to do as I ask?”
A touch of Nozomi’s index finger to her lips, mimicking one of Camilla’s favorite poses. “Oh, I just don’t know.”
Camilla took Nozomi’s ear in her fist. “Nozomi, darling…”
A ripple of her knuckles around Nozomi’s kept ear, for effect.
“Well, all you had to do is ask me nicely.” Nozomi giggled, body writhing with an evocative shiver of her hips.
Nozomi hastily worked her wife’s pencil skirt up her legs. She meandered over stockings, then drew nails over nylon, sharp enough to make Camilla gasp. Quick but careful fingers tugged Camilla’s underwear abruptly to the side, and…
The camera’s auto-focus blitzed out as Nozomi’s nose impacted Camilla’s pubic hair. Greedy lips kissed along open cunt, wet and ready. The hand at the camera shivered, and Camilla fell back a bit, cinching a hand in Nozomi’s hair to keep her balance. Nozomi yipped with muffled excitement. The camera zoomed, following the trace of her nose along Camilla’s slit, and the luxurious grind of it against her clit. Camilla groaned, her knees closing firmer around Nozomi’s ears. She drew Nozomi into the embrace of her legs. Then apparently thought better of it. With a press of her hand against Nozomi’s forehead, she denied her wife her prize. The camera caught full view of this farce, the impetuous flicker of Nozomi’s tongue in the air, mere centimeters from her prize.
“Camilla…” Nozomi whined. “You’re not making this easy.”
“Nozomi, my love, my absolute dearest…” Strong fingers clutched around the back of Nozomi’s neck like she were a kept kitten, and Camilla’s voice rumbled out from her chest like the boom of a mountain god. “Good art never is.”
Nozomi cottoned to the game immediately. The camera caught her shadowed sneer as she tensed her neck, encroaching back into Camilla’s space, but patiently maintaining her distance. She understood, clearly. The camera shot was perfect. Every flicker of her tongue, every damp and tangled little frond of Camilla’s lilac thicket glistening with her dew. Every tremor through Camilla’s shapely thighs. This wasn’t just an orgasm. It wasn’t just goodbye. It was a show, wasn’t it? And shows demand performance.
A toot of a horn in the driveway.
“Atch,” Camilla clicked her tongue. “My car.”
Without thinking, she leapt to her feet, dropping the camera, and Nozomi, right to the carpet. She glanced out the window as Nozomi, just barely in frame, massaged her bruised rear and, presumably, her momentarily stung pride.
“Camilla…” Nozomi intoned the name like a grave curse. Her hands hooked into predatory claws, and as Camilla turned from the window, she pounced.
Hips met hips as Nozomi surged upwards, begging a kiss from the startled Camilla’s lips. “I told you.” From the floor, the camera’s dutch angle caught it all, Nozomi panting her pleasure, right into Camilla’s face, her haughty grin, and the shove of her palms against Camilla’s shoulders, striking her back against the wall. “You’re not leaving without your present.”
With a glib look, Camilla nudged her chin in the direction of the discarded camera. “Then shouldn’t you hand me that?”
“Ah! Good save!” Nozomi chirped, her facade breaking for a moment. She scrambled to the floor to grab the camera, and the world spun like a top for a second or two before she pressed the phone into Camilla’s head. Then, as she was standing, gripping fistfuls of Camilla’s skirt, ascending her, lips primed for another kiss…
Camilla’s leg hooked around Nozomi’s shoulders. Nozomi squeaked, trapped, as Camilla forcibly drew her to the crux of her legs.
“Quickly now,” came that hoarse whisper. “This late, they charge by the minute.”
“Well then!” Nozomi announced with gusto, offering a suctioning kiss of apology to her wife’s precious clit. “No time to waste!”
Camilla cried out.
Nozomi dove into her wife’s cunt. Thumbs braced into fleshy thighs, lips parted, and she was off.
The thump of her hand rattled the sheetrock wall behind her. Nozomi’s nostrils flared with anticipation, and a pertinent thought wrinkled her brow. Her fingers traced inwards along Camilla’s thighs. Carefully. Cautiously. They were discrete, and wouldn’t give away their plan until the absolute last moment. A pinch of Camilla’s thigh between thumb and forefinger. The surprised and sheepishly uncharacteristic little gasp it elicited from the camera operator. And then…
A heave of breath burst fresh, crackling unspeakable static through the microphone as Nozomi tested her fingers against Camilla’s slit. Camilla’s long, lavender tresses obscured the camera, for a moment, jigging and bouncing in front of the lens as her head fell forward, casting Nozomi in strange aurora.
“Nozomi…” Camilla murmured. The camera shuddered in her grip. When she righted it, the auto-focused snapped onto the brief tremble of her leg. Her hand shot downwards, to claim a fistful of Nozomi’s hair and use it keep herself steady—and in command.
It didn’t last. Thump of impact, as Nozomi’s fingers hilted themselves in Camilla and Camilla’s head hit the wall in response, with a cry loud enough to shake the ceiling fan—which is what the uncooperative camera was currently zoomed in on.
“Honey bearrr~” Nozomi drawled, “I’m down herrrreee…”
With soft pants of breath, Camilla brought herself back to her senses. The camera, though still shaking, pivoted back down to find a smiling Nozomi beaming back on it, no concern to glisten of her wife’s cunt all over her face, or the piston of her fingers inside her body. With an impish little smile, she offered a V of her fingers to the camera…
…and another V of them inside her wife…
“Nuah!” Camilla responded, her leg cinching ardently around Nozomi, drawing her close. Leaving no room for escape. The camera clattered to the floor beside them, a full view upwards of Camilla’s shuddering body, mounting Nozomi’s face with climactic force.
Outside, the car unleashed an impatient series of honks; likely, with Camilla’s whole self shuddering like a freshly-born earthquake, and Nozomi mouth-tongue-and-fingers deep in her work, the camera was the only one to notice it
The constant, unsteady shudders of the camera spoke to Camilla’s building climax. She was close. Ripples of tension contracted her thighs. Her stomach crested and receded with each massive, centering breath. She was close. So obviously close. So painfully close.
Nozomi’s nostrils flared. Each breath was a gasp. One by one, she had to steal them away, from the heat of Camilla’s magnificence.
Her eyes were narrowed to slits of absolute concentration, she threw herself into her work. She was hungry—starved and dangerous. It only made sense. This meal would have to last her the entire month, after all.
Camilla’s stomach rippled as Nozomi overcame her defenses, split her open to the core. The camera rattled back and forth, clinking against her wedding ring as it shook in a grip stronger and harder than a paint mixer. With Nozomi’s help, Camilla cast herself over the edge, her screams ricocheting through their small house and surely not unheard by the driver below. Camilla’s body seemed to be unfurling in real time, her leg around Nozomi clenching reflexively, her supporting leg shuddering, buckling at the knee.
“N-nozomi!” Camilla whimpered, hoarsely. This time not in excitement, but—
The warning came too late. Overcome, Camilla toppled into Nozomi and, together, they fell to the floor. The soft impact of flesh along flesh, as the camera slipped from Camilla’s slick hands and scattered out of reach. It could only listen to their sweet giggles, and the symphony of their kisses from its vantage point face-down on the carpet.
With a snap, the camera flew up into the air. Nozomi was at the helm again—and astride the supine Camilla. The camera shuddered through a fitful series of zooms before focusing on Nozomi’s hips. Her dark pubic hair glistened with ready energy. Her stomach seethed and pulsed with every breath. Clearly, there was no time for words, if she even remembered how to speak. She inched perilously forward along Camilla’s stomach, and the camera panned upwards at the moment Camilla’s left eyebrow quirked with the chirrup-ing sound of triplicate notifications from her phone—the driver was getting impatient.
“Terribly sorry, my love,” Camilla said, honeyed apology belied by sadistic glint in her eyes. “I suppose your present will have to wait until my return.”
Likewise, Nozomi’s moan of disappointment was undercut by the heady, drunken lust of her giggling that immediately followed it. She leaned back on her hands, head lolled back, panting up at the ceiling, the shine of her lover still glistening on her chin. “That’s… fine…” She grinned lopsidedly, lifting her head and brushing her bangs away from her face. “It’s your birthday, after all.” Then, with a final V of her glistening fingers in a triumphant gesture, Nozomi declared, “This is Non-tan, signing off!”
The mic spiked and rustled as she snatched the phone away from Camilla a final time, and her lips pursed as they approached, a kiss the camera lens serving as a fade to black.
“Happy birthday, babe.”
As the video ended, Camilla lolled her head against the headboard of her hotel room’s bed.
The sheepish whisper of Nozomi’s voice crossed over her phone’s speaker. After all the crackling of their moans and sighs, Nozomi’s voice, in real time, on the other end of the line was barely audibly.
“So… did you have fun watching it?”
She spoke so gently, almost self-effacing, worried about her wife’s response, as if Camilla were critiquing her little, insignificant art project, and not an active participant in its creation.
Camilla sighed, wriggling out the tension all the way down to her toes. “Not nearly as much fun as I had making it.”
A giggle of delight from Nozomi. Apparently this was the proper response. “Then I guess you’ll have to hurry home so we can get started on the next one.”
Camilla stroked her fingertips in lazy sweeps against her stomach, hips, and thighs through the slit of her comfy robe. Business trips be damned, that was the best birthday she’d had in a good, long time.