Or Is It Real?

Chapter 45: Distraction

Camila's PoV

Let me paint you a picture:

Lauren and I, in her bedroom, her legs bent, with my head in between her thighs. TV on mute playing the Super Bowl, as Lady Gaga descends from the sky.

What a beautiful sight, a very naked Lauren lying down in soft white sheets, with nothing but heels on, losing her religion.

"And you know what I hate about this world? People are so easily distracted! Like, duh! There are more important issues to talk about, and they can't summon as much energy as they have for sports when it comes to social and political issues?!" She rasps out frustratedly.

Yes, that's my pretty little vixen, venting her moral outrage, while I lay on my stomach in between her legs trying to be an awesome girlfriend as I try to eat her out while I listen to all the things she says.

Ever since she officially came out as a proud bisexual via her Billboard article, a week after that Laucy photo was leaked, and she successfully dragged Donald Trump and basically everyone else who voted for him, she has fast become one of the most staunch and vocal supporters of women's rights and whatnot. She didn't even come out to address her alleged relationship with Lucy, she only did the article to rebel against Trump's blatant belittling of the minorities' rights.

Since getting a taste of her practice of free speech, my little Miss Rebel With A Cause has been vibrating with energy that could only be released through her activism... and maybe a couple of orgasms.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love what's she's trying to do. She's making a change, and I'm so proud of her. But sometimes, I wish she has an on/off switch that I could click on so she could shut up for a second, you know, so I could give her head until she's out of her mind - oh, if she only knew the bad things I like. If I didn't have my period right now I would have sat on her face already to make a better use of her mouth other than yapping about racism, misogyny, and the patriarchy in bed.

"Lauren, try to calm down." I lifted my head up from the apex of her thighs to shush her. Romantic, right? My mouth basically glistening with her wetness, and there she was, arms flinging animatedly as she tells me what kind of protest signs she's gonna make the next time she attends a rally.

I may complain about it some times, but I think it's cute, actually. She gets so into her advocacies sometimes that she forgets about everything else, it's nothing personal. One time, while we were sleeping, I was woken up because she was shouting 'My body, my choice!' at the top of her lungs, and I had to shake her shoulders repeatedly before she realized that she was, in fact, in our shared hotel bedroom, and not in a demonstration.

I don't mind it, though. I made a promise, that no matter what she says and no matter what she does, I'd stick by her side, as she had promised the same to me.

So here we are... in her bed, with my mouth glued to her pussy, her legs slung over my shoulders, boy I was really getting into it. Everything about Lauren drives me crazy: the sight of her glistening pinkish folds, her scent, the taste of her... Man, she's my drug, and I could breathe her in all night long until my face was numb and I'd still stay here - in between her legs. I want her here forever. My tongue explored every inch of her, teasing her, slowly licking her, her engorged clitoris bumping against my nose as I bury my face in her entire womanhood. Hearing her moan like that, her eyes closed as she screams out random expletives, her body writhing like she's being given a new life - it's what I live for.