Ebony, Petite and Wild

"Don't mind the mess," Carlo said.

Of course, there was no mess, it was only something people said.

Carlo had invited Marcos to his house to watch the game. It was Brazil and England, semifinals of the World Cup, and Carlo had just bought a new 4K TV, ready to test it.

"Jesus, man, how big is this?" Marcos said, staring at the pre-game that was going on.

"70"," he said. "I wanted to go big. Always wanted one of those."

"Makes my 55" look small," Marcos said. "Got beer?"

Carlo laughed. "In the fridge, get me one too."

Marcos walked around the couch, a bit too close for such a big TV, and walked into the kitchen. There, he stopped. Almost fully inside the fridge was a girl, bent over, looking for something. Marcos saw her backside. She was a petite ebony girl, wearing skintight shorts as well as a small, cropped t-shirt. She must've heard Marcos coming in the kitchen, because she raised up, closed the door, looked at him and opened a smile. Her hair was a natural afro, with very light curls. Rounded, large, with a lot of volume, it was golden-brown with caramel tones. It rose above her head, then fell around her shoulders, framing her pretty face in a wild look. And her smile was wide and pearly white and sweet. She had high, prominent cheekbones and skinny cheeks. She must've measured around 5 feet tall, while Marcos was 6'1".

"Hi," she said, staring at Marcos. Her eyes were as her hair, with the same golden glow.

"Uh...hi...I'm sorry, I...you're..."

"I'm Camila," she said, with a laugh. "Carlo's daughter."

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. I'm Marcos, his friend," he said, extending his hand. "I forgot he had a daughter for a second, sorry."

Camila shook his hand in a gentle gesture, his big hand overcoming hers.

"Don't worry, it's okay. You here to watch the game?"

"Uh, yeah. Semifinals. Hope we can pass, England's gonna be a tough one."

Camila nodded. For a second, they stared at each other, Marcos lost in that girl's eyes. How old was she? Nineteen. He remembered Carlo talking about her birthday around a month or two ago. Nineteen. Marcos was twenty nine, ten years younger than her dad and ten years older than her. What was he doing?

"So," she said, breaking the awkward silence, "you looking for a beer or..."

"A beer. Yes. Of course. I...uh...excuse me..."

He walked towards the fridge and Camila leaned to the side, her petite body giving way to him. He did not see her watching him as he opened the fridge and bent down to get two cans from the pack. She looked at him up and down and silently bit her lower lip.

"Got it," Marcos said, getting up.

"I'm gonna watch the game with you two."

"Oh, you will? You want me to get you one."

Camila smiled. "Oh, no, I don't drink. I was just taking a look. You look a bit nervous, you okay?"

"Oh, nervous...no, I'm not. I'm just excited. Pretty nice TV your dad bought."

She turned around, looking at the living room from the kitchen portal.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool. It's awesome to watch movies. They look so big and I love it."

Marcos felt a shiver run down his spine, but ignored it as best as he could.

"C'mon!" Carlo screamed from the couch. "Game is about to begin."

"I'm go- we're going!" Marcos shouted back.

Camila followed behind him to the couch. There, Marcos sat on the right side, Carlo in the middle and Camila on the left. He saw her side-eye him for a second before sitting down, bringing her legs up to her chest, her skintight shorts doing little to cover her pretty skin. She was a rather skinny girl, with what seemed like small to medium sized breasts under her cropped t-shirt.

Marcos gave Carlo a can, and soon after, the game started.

-------------

It was almost half-time, Carlo was five cans in and Marcos was three, and no team had scored yet.

"How is that possible?" Carlo asked. "Jesus, dude, like...c'mon! We have absolutely no midfield. If not for our goalkeeper, they would've scored five times already."

"We ain't winning," Marcos admitted. "They've had the ball most of the game. Not one shot on goal, dude."

"I don't know," Camila said from the other side, playing with her hair. "I think we can still score. And very well scored..."

When Marcos looked at her, he saw the girl, nineteen years old, staring at him, her tongue playing around her pretty smile. He coughed.

"Yeah," he said, jumping his eyes back to the TV. "Yeah, I think so."

Suddenly, she got up. "Dad, I'm going to take a shower. Scream if we score."

"Sure, baby."

She passed in front of the TV, this time with no side-eye. Marcos sighed silently, in relief, but it did not last very long. As soon as Camila walked behind him, she laid a hand between his shoulder and neck, leaned in and whispered:

"I'm going to wait a few minutes before showering, you know, in case we score."

He heard the final word turn into a smile before she disappeared down the corridor.

From that moment on, the game became background noise. All his mind could think about was his friend's daughter, about her intentions with him. It was crazy to ponder something like that. He had known Carlo for years now, what kind of man was he? Well, he was a horny one, and Camila had been enticing him ever since he saw her.

Ten minutes later, the beer had been having an effect on him, and he needed to pee.

"Hey, uh, where's the bathroom?"

"Down the corridor, second door," Carlo said. "But I think Camila is there."

"You sure? I think I just heard her pass by the kitchen."

"Oh, okay."

Marcos got up, passing by the kitchen to discard the can. Then, he went down the corridor. Second door, he had said, and the second door was there, open, but empty. The room was cold, meaning the shower hadn't been turned on yet. "Where is she?" he wondered, and the idea of what he was doing came back to haunt him. But that was one of those situations where the lower head took control, and so, he walked down more, until he reached another half-open door. He peeked inside.

Camila was there, with her same cropped t-shirt, but no pants now. All she had on were her bright blue panties, her dark legs extended as she sat by the edge of the bed, her face down on her phone.

Marcos got closer and slowly pushed the creaking door in.

She raised her eyes and smiled. Quickly, she put the phone down.

"You came," she said, getting up, holding her hands in front of her body like a sweet girl.

"I...uh...Camila, we can't do this...this is wrong..."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon, you didn't come here to give me a sermon, did you? You came here because you like what you saw."

"I..."

"Relaaaax," she said, approaching him. She was much shorter, much smaller, and her eyes looked up as bit her lower lip. "I liked what I saw. I want it."

Marcos was silent for a bit, but he could feel his cock answer for him. He also wanted her. A lot.

"Your dad is in the living room," he murmured. "He can catch us."

She put a finger between her lips in a silent gesture and said "Shhhh, I can be very, very quiet."

Camila put her hands on him, feeling his chest and arms, and Marcos looked back at the door. It was still half-open, but it seemed so far away, so distant...

"Hnmmm," she said, "you're so big, so tall. I'm so tiny, don't you think?"

"I do, yeah," he answered almost automatically.

She bit her lip. "What are you gonna do with me?"

Her voice was low and sexy.

Marcos took one of her hands and lowered it to his crotch. She felt then grabbed his bulge.

"Yeah, I want it," she said, sweetly smiling. "Can I?"

Marcos nodded.

Camila slowly dropped to her knees, her hands running down Marcos' body. Then, she undid his fly and pulled down his pants. She saw the huge bulge in his underwear and could not wait any longer. Softly, she removed his black underwear and the huge white cock fell out.

She laughed. "Oh. My. God!" She grabbed it and lifted it above her head, then her eyes darted to Marcos. "It's huge!"

"Think you can take it?" he asked, still remembering she was his friend's daughter, but not caring one bit about the guilt anymore.

Camila nodded, then licked the tip. "I can try. I love big cock. I love when they're white...and long...and thick."

Marcos put his hand over her wild hair and, as she looked at him with her golden eyes, he pressed her head down. Her mouth opened, then went over the tip, getting fully filled halfway through the shaft. He held a moan.

Slowly but steadily her mouth was getting filled. Surprisingly, she was taking it quite well. She had a wide, sexy smile, and that was translating into sucking cock in a phenomenal manner.

GLOK. She still looked at him. GULK. Her eyes twitched. GLOK. GLOK. Her eyes closed completely. Her head was now bobbing back and forth, in rhythmic pleasure, as she swallowed his heavy meat completely. GULK. GULK. She was nineteen and already so good at sucking cock. There was still an inch or two at the end that she could not eat completely. GLOK! Marcos felt his cock hit the back of her throat. Camila pulled her head back and a wet unclogging sound came from her throat. Then, she sucked the tip, faster, as she jerked the shaft.

It was completely wet now, and saliva drooled from around her mouth and his cock and fell, but Camila did not stop. She was clearly loving it, and Marcos too.

"C'mere," Marcos said when Camila stopped to breathe again. "Hold your breath."

She did, and immediately opened her mouth. So well trained already.

Marcos grabbed a tuft of her hair and held firmly as he sent his cock deep inside her mouth and pushed her head in and out, in and out...

GLUCK! GLUCK! GLUCK!

Her throat bulged with every thrust, with every movement. Her pressed shut eyes started to water, tears ran down her cheeks, but she did not tap out, not once.

GLUCK--GLK--GLUCK!

Her hands gripped harder around his thighs. His white cock was disappearing and reappearing as Camila struggled. Her throat convulsed around his member, and she tried to hold in her runny nose, but she couldn't. Marcos was making a mess of her face, and Camila was all too willing to let it happen.

When she slapped his thigh, he pulled it out, still holding her hair as if she was just a cock sucking puppet. SCHLORP! Camila panted, coughing, trying to do it quietly.

For a second, he thought he had gone too far. But Camila looked at him again, and her pretty filthy smile reappeared. Oh, she was a nasty one, real nasty.

Marcos took her by the hair to the bed and made her climb it. Her face was a wet mess as tears and saliva mixed, glistening on her dark skin, and she sniffled what had come out. She laid on her back. Marcos took off her panties, revealing her black, pretty pussy, all wet and sticky and swollen. He played with it, running two of his fingers up and down, opening her folds, and he saw Camila's lips press against one another, her eyes almost shutting completely.

"You want my cock?"

She nodded, innocently, as a soft whimper left her closed mouth. How he loved that. He knew by then that he was going to ravish that girl.

Marcos grabbed his cock and put it by her entrance. He teased her, rubbing it against her pussy. His cock had been drenched in her saliva, and now it was drenched in her fluids too. Camila grabbed her thighs and pulled them back, folding herself in half until her legs were near her head. She had given him a lot of space and an incredible view. He was so thirsty, he barely realized when he put his cock in.

Camila gasped. She used one of the hands to cover her mouth as it still held her thin legs. Her eyes turned white, her cheeks red, her messed face making Marcos even harder.

A squishy sound came from her pussy as he shoved it in. It was wet. Nasty. Dirty. And, considering that was his friend's daughter, wrong. But he loved how wrong he was, how ready she was for him, and at the same time seemed surprised by his length and thickness. He got on top of her, his feet still holding against the ground, covered her mouth with his hand as she focused on keeping her legs back.

And then shoved it.

Loud and wet, the squelching sound filled the silent room as he let himself go, going deeper inside the girl. His cock was forcing her wider, opening her up from the inside. The best part was the bulge. It came and went with every thrust, around the lower part of her flat stomach. It raised then went back down. He switched from looking at it and then at the girl's face, with her widened eyes turning blank.

Suddenly, from the living room, came a scream. "GOAL!"

Camila yanked Marcos' hand away from her mouth and screamed back. "YES! PLEASE, MORE!" Marcos felt her legs tighten around his waist. She wanted more, she was going to have more.

They heard the TV volume go up. Marcos used that to his advantage. He slammed his body against hers, his hand back over her mouth. Camila's muffled moans tried to escape, but Marcos was much bigger and stronger than her; the weight of his body held her down. He was ravishing her, destroying his friend's daughter's little pussy. Nineteen, and being made a cocksleeve. She let go of her thighs and grabbed the bedsheet. She was convulsing, trying to leave, but she was not going to escape. They both knew that.

Marcos felt her pussy tighten around his big white cock. He smiled. She was coming. Hard. And he was not about to stop. She squirmed against him, then calmed, and squirmed again; orgasm after orgasm overtook the already tiny girl, that was folded in half, a pussy to be fucked.

When he finally stopped, Camila was a drooling mess, panting desperately. He, however, could not stop for long. He grabbed her small body and picked it up, picked it up as if she was nothing but an object. She was so light. She gasped, surprised, but then relaxed as she felt her body being brought down and then up, down and then up, Marcos's cock bringing more of her wet fluids out. He told her to take off her t-shirt, and she did, having trouble getting it past her big afro. Her round, small tits made him thrust harder.

Marcos gripped her small, round butt cheeks, holding her firmly against him. Camila hugged him, burying her cute face in his neck and biting down softly. She whimpered with every deep stroke, her moans just for him to hear, to keep him hard.

"Don't stop...please...don't stop...yes...yes, please..."

Her voice was being cut off by the intense bouncing. The filthy sounds were wetter than ever. PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! But her words were enough to send him over the edge. He felt himself throb, the cum rise, and for a moment, a brief moment, he considered it but, somehow, he broke off the horny spell, pulled out and let go of her.

Camila fell over the bed, Marcos grabbed his cock -- which she had creamed all over -- and stroked it. With the other hand, he seized a fistful of Camila's big hair and yanked her close to him. She rose to her knees, though her legs shook underneath her, barely able to sustain her light weight. He held her in place, aiming his cock at her. Even though her mind was completely shattered and cock-drunk, her eyes droopy, Camila knew what was happening. She opened her mouth and presented her tongue like a good little slut.

Marcos stroke furiously, his fat cock shiny with her juices. It started pulsing as he stared at the slutty nineteen-year-old, ready to have her face painted. He heard another goal cheer from the living room.

Then he growled, and thick ropes of cum shot out of his cock, splashing over her face. She flinched but did not try to leave. It exploded once, twice, three times, the ropes landing on her eyes, nose and around her lips, dripping down to her tongue. He aimed lower and lower as he felt the last spurts come out, laying his cock over her tongue. Obediently, she swallowed whatever had fallen on her tongue and then cleaned his big cock, her face a complete mess, glazed in white.

She looked perfect.

Marcos let go of her hair and Camila fell backwards. She was panting, as if she had just run a marathon.

"I need to go," Marcos said, putting back on his underwear and pants, hiding his cock. "Your father will wonder where I was."

"Yeah...go...just...just go..." she said, breathing heavily, exhausted. "I'm gonna...rest a bit..."

Marcos, before leaving the room, paused at the door and took one last look at the broken girl sprawled on the bed. She was sweaty, tired, her hair had gone from a self-made mess to a real one, and all she had managed to do before collapsing was wiping the cum off her eyes. The rest of his load still lingered on her face, dripping onto the white bedsheet, her legs twitching here and there.

He closed the door.

Marcos told Carlo he was in the bathroom, that the beer hadn't done him good. It was surprising how easily he bought it. In the last twenty minutes of the second half, Camila rejoined them. She had showered and changed, but exhaustion was still written all over her: her youthful gait was slightly slower, her eyes slightly puffy and her breathing seemed a bit too heavy. She sat down quietly, and neither looked at each other.

That afternoon, Brazil won with three goals over England. Still, somehow, Marcos thought that the real scorer of the day had been him.