Rain had fallen all morning, but by the time Henry got to King Street, it was more like the air was sighing mist. The cobbles still gleamed, every puddle catching the glow of the lamplights like melted brass. The sound of a train rumbled overhead, wheels clattering somewhere beyond the old railway bridge. He could feel the city of London breathing around him. It was damp, heavy, and historic.
Henry sighed. He put a hand on his chest. He was a tad nervous. 'She didn't even have any pictures of herself up. Only cat pics.'
Henry was an ordinary young man about to go on a date with a woman he had never met or seen. It wasn't like he didn't talk to her. She seemed nice enough in their texts and phone calls. She was British and slightly stoic and awkward. Ultimately, when he offered for them to meet in-person, she happily gave a time and place.
Her name? Cammy White.
"I'll be wearing a shirt with the England flag," Cammy said in that thick British accent of hers during their phone call.
'The location is the King's Folly Tearoom. What a strange name.'
King Street was pretty much the street that was in the middle of every major landmark in London. It was certainly for the wealthier side of individuals. But still, Henry was assured there would be no problems. Cammy said she had everything booked and ready.
Honestly, he didn't know what to expect when he eventually saw her standing underneath the store. But reality sometimes blows one's expectations out of the water.
Under the ornate black-and-gold sign of The King's Folly Tearoom, a woman stood with the kind of stillness that drew every glance her way. Her blonde hair was short, with a bang hanging over an eye. A hand was on her hip. She was wearing a cropped blue jacket with bold red stripes cutting across the sleeves. The jacket hung open just enough to show the toned definition of her stomach.
At first, he thought it was just some hot chick. No way that was Cammy. No way she was waiting for him. But then he realized that she was on her phone.
Bzzt!
Henry received a notification. The blonde hottie put her phone down. Henry didn't bother to check his phone. He just couldn't. He had to come closer.
'It can't be…it just…'
A cat was snuggled near her leg. Not her own, definitely a stray, but...
The cat wouldn't leave her alone. It was like there was a connection between them. Like cats gravitated toward her. Just like Cammy mentioned in their conversation.
Cammy seemed to roll her eyes with her body, drop down, and then pet the cat. The cat meowed and then ran off. Cammy stood up, smiling quietly, and crossed her arms.
But he saw it. When she bent down, he saw the back of the jacket and...and...
'The England flag. Oh.'
Oh my god.
"C-Cammy?"
This wasn't what he expected at all. He thought she might be a quiet girl with a cat obsession and a knack for bad memes. But the woman under that tearoom sign looked like the greatest female action movie star. She was fit, she was hot, and good god, that casual hand on her hip! That fat ass! Those black yoga pants were really stretching it thin! O-or was the material just skintight?
Wearing something like that to a date was…
"Hm?" When she heard him, she looked up—and smiled. "Henry?" she called out, her British accent crisp, every syllable balanced perfectly between warmth and command. Without the muffle of the phone, it was downright erotic. She raised a gloved hand and gave a casual wave, the gesture somehow making her seem even more real—and even more out of his league.
He swallowed hard and managed a half-step forward, brain scrambling for words.
"Uh—yeah. Cammy? Date? Right?"
Suddenly, Henry found himself only speaking in single words.
She looked him up and down. Cammy was a strong woman, clearly, but she wasn't very tall. Only five-foot-five. Henry towered over her at six-foot. Her smile widened. "Yes." She nudged at the door. "Now, shall we? We're slightly early but I think they'll let us in."
He watched her turn and every coherent thought in Henry's head simply fizzled. The cropped jacket rode up, offering him a breathtaking view of the small of her back, the gentle dip above the most spectacular ass he had ever seen. It was a perfect, heart-shaped masterpiece, high and round, straining against the thin, dark fabric of her yoga pants. The material was so tight it seemed to gleam under the lamplight, outlining every powerful curve of her glutes, the way they flexed and relaxed with each step.
'Good god.'
Her hips flared dramatically from her narrow waist. An impossible, athletic silhouette that belonged on a combat poster, not in a quaint London tearoom.
Cammy led the way inside, and Henry's eyes remained locked on that hypnotic sway. Each step in her red combat boots was a confident thump, but the mesmerizing rhythm of her hips was a silent, potent drumbeat that echoed right through him.
"Where was it again?" Cammy muttered to herself. She stopped, albeit only for two or three seconds. She wasn't the type to linger for long. She made snap decisions. She was, well, what she seemed like. A fit gym babe that took no shit from anyone.
She chose a secluded booth in the back. She slid into one side. Henry practically fell into the seat opposite her.
For a long moment, there was only silence. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but it was heavy, charged with the unspoken shock of their meeting. Henry's mind raced, a frantic scramble for anything to say that wasn't 'Holy shit, you're a goddess.'
Cammy broke it first. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, the red gauntlets looking strangely at home amidst the delicate teacups. "So, um, want to order something?"
"O-oh, yeah, for sure." He picked up the menu first. Cammy followed suite.
'G-guess she's nervous too.'
Henry tried not to stare as she crossed her legs. Her clothes seemed poured on, every motion unintentional grace.
A waiter appeared, all politeness and waistcoat. They ordered tea and scones, because what else do you do in a place like this?
"So," Henry said, trying to sound casual, "you live around here?"
"Not far," Cammy replied. "Closer to Pimlico. Small flat. Quiet. Perfect for training."
"Training?" Henry blinked twice. A cloud of fear appeared in her perfect blue eyes, but there was no need. Henry accidentally filled in the gaps for her. "Oh, right, you did mention being in the military. You quit, right? But the habit doesn't leave."
"Y-yes, exactly." Cammy cleared her throat. She studied him over the rim of her cup. "You're not from London."
"Guilty. Brighton originally. I moved here for work."
"A veterinarian, right." That got an eager smile out of her. See, during their phone call, she loved to hear his workday stories. It was what got them calling. "Was today any trouble?"
"Well, you always get one or two odd critters." Henry rolled down some of his sleeve. A long, thin cut ran down from palm to vein. "Today though, one couple brought in a cat whose nails hadn't been cut in eight years. They didn't tell me he didn't play well with strangers too. I was careful anyway, but sometimes, the best protection isn't enough."
She laughed — a short, surprised sound, like she hadn't expected to. "I apologize on his behalf."
"It was a her. Don't underestimate women."
Cammy laughed again. It warmed the air between them more than the teapot did.
The tea arrived, steaming. The waiter placed it like a ceremony, complete with porcelain cups and tiny sandwiches. Henry tried to pour without spilling. Failed immediately.
Cammy's lips twitched. "Clearly from Brighton."
"H-hey, I'm more of a coffee guy," he said. "Tea feels like it requires a license."
She chuckled — the third real laugh today — and reached for the teapot. "Here." She poured smoothly, precise hands steady as if she'd done it a thousand times.
"Perfect. My plan all along."
The fog outside pressed softly against the window. Beyond it, the clock face of the Elizabeth Tower glowed through the mist. It was like time itself was eavesdropping on them.
Cammy stirred her tea absently. "So…what are your goals, Henry?"
He blinked. "My goals? I mean, I'm kind of living the dream already. Decent job, nice pay, decent coworkers, but…" He paused a little. "Actually, nevermind."
"What? We should be open with one another, no? It's common first date etiquette."
Common first date etiquette? 'Did she get that from the internet or something? Is this her first date too?' This was his first date ever. Like ever. So he did some internet searching and all that. Being open was, yes, one of the criteria for a successful first day.
"I'm an orphan," Henry said. "But I got adopted, albeit a bit little down the line. Before that, I always thought families were overrated. Now…"
"Now?"
"Now I think it'd be nice."
"I see. You wish to be a father," she said, tilting her head.
"Y-yeah."
"I believe you'd be great."
His brain stuttered. "I—uh—thanks. Y-you too. Uh, assuming you want to be a mother."
Her cheeks flushed. She looked to her left, away. "T-that's not…" Cammy bit her bottom lip. "...thank you."
Jeez, this was awkward. It really did feel like both of them were going on their first date ever. Which, come on, Cammy was a hottie! No way this was HER first date.
Right?
"Ah, seems our time is over."
"Huh?"
"It's a fifteen minute booking," Cammy explained. "Apologies, I should have asked for more. I come here once a week and only stay for fifteen minutes before heading to…work."
"It's fine, it's fine. We can just walk. First date etiquette says walks are great, right?"
Cammy snickered. "Yes. very much."
By the time they left the tearoom, the rain had started again. The rain was soft, fine, barely there, so the city was still walkable. The city looked like a watercolor painting half-finished. The Palace of Westminster loomed behind them, its spires vanishing into low fog.
Henry shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "That went surprisingly well."
Cammy glanced at him. "You were expecting it to go badly?"
"I mean, statistically? Most first dates are awkward."
"...and this wasn't?"
"Oh, it definitely was. But, like," Henry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "in a good way. You know what I mean?"
She laughed again, and it sounded lighter than before. "I think I do."
They walked under the railway bridge. A train passed overhead with a metallic roar. Cammy looked up, hair damp, face lit by the passing lights. She didn't flinch, didn't even blink. Just watched.
"The rain is going to get heavier, it seems…" Cammy muttered to herself. "And the date has barely started…"
"Cammy? Something wrong?" Henry asked, blinking. Cammy turned toward him, a single hand in her hip.
"...there's something I want to show you."
He blinked. "Right now?"
"Apologies, will that be an issue?"
"No, no, we've barely gotten started. I meant, like— where?"
"My place. It's close."
Huh? Oh. "Y-your place?"
"Yes. Let's go to my apartment."
Her free hand balled into a fist. There was a tinge of nervousness around her. Strange, just what did she want to show him…?
***
According to Guile, Cammy White was "the sharpest blade you'll ever meet — not because she wants to cut you, but because she refuses to rust. And because she has learned to sheathe herself too."
According to Chun-Li, Cammy White was "proof that redemption is possible."
According to Ryu, Cammy White was "a fighter who knows the battle inside matters more than the one outside."
According to Dhalsim, Cammy White was "a soul reborn — still searching for peace, but walking the right path."
For Cammy, going on dates should have been impossible. Five years ago, it would have been impossible.
Not anymore.
Now she could fall in love. Now she could talk to men. Now she could find the man she wanted to marry for the rest of her life.
But it wasn't like she was taught romance by anyone. She had to learn on her own.
"Ngggh!"
Which was how she was here. Which was how Henry was here.
Henry's head lolled back against the soft fabric of the couch, a strangled groan escaping his lips as his fingers tangled desperately in the throw pillow beside him. 'This is not happening. This is a hallucination. A very, very specific and incredible hallucination.'
Just twenty minutes ago, he'd been nervously sipping a cup of tea and convinced his first-ever date was out of his league. Who could blame him? Cammy White was knockout blonde with sharp blue eyes and a soft, cute smile that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. And her body, god, her body. The dark blue sports bra and those impossibly tight black yoga pants showcased a physique that was pure, toned sex appeal. Her breasts were modest, but her hips flared and her ass… her ass was a masterpiece, sculpted and high and utterly distracting.
Now, that same woman was on her knees between his legs, her crimson gauntlets resting on his thighs as she devoted herself to the singular task of drawing the soul straight out of his nine-inch cock.
Yes, Cammy was sucking him off. Cammy was giving him a blowjob.
'T-this is what she wanted to show me!?'
Yes, Henry. This was what Cammy wanted to show you.
'C-Cammy! Nnggh, i-it feels like we've skipped several important steps here...!'
Her tongue was a wicked instrument of pleasure, a flat, wet heat that lapped at the sensitive spot just beneath the head before swirling tightly around the crown. She took him deep, her throat opening with a practiced ease that defied the physics of his considerable length, and the resulting vacuum-like suction made his eyes roll back.
'T-t-this is superhuman! T-this kind of dicksucking—!'
Each descent was a smooth, relentless glide, her nose burying in the coarse hair at his base. Each ascent was a slow, torturous release that left him throbbing and desperate for the next.
Cammy learned from the best. She learned from watching porn.
He felt one of her gloved hands cup his heavy testicles, rolling them with a gentle, knowing pressure that sent fresh jolts of electricity straight up his already throbbing red cock.
"F-fuck! Oh fuck, Cammy! I-I think I'm—"
He came before he could finish. His hands went slack and his balls tightened up as they came down her throat.
Cammy casually swallowed down every last drop of it. No issues, only a couple blinks when she felt the first couple blasts of cum. But other than that…
Gulp, gulp, gulp!
"Fuuuck!"
Cammy swallowed diligently. Like a soldier on a mission. What was her mission, one might ask? To make this the best first date ever. On every account, she was succeeding. By the time Henry was done, he felt like he had just nutted three times over.
'T-that was three weeks worth of cum…' He had been backed-up because of work. Maybe on the weekend, depending on how exhausted he was, he planned to rub one out. But Cammy, this chick, she just extracted his load like it was nothing…!
She pulled back with a soft, wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his shining knob. She looked up at him, her blue eyes gleaming with a mix of innocence and fierce determination. Her black choker, with its strange triangular emblem, seemed to tighten slightly as she swallowed.
Spurt!
"Eh?"
Cammy blinked when one last jet of cum flung on her face. It caught her by surprise and it perfectly covered the scar on the bottom left side. The marked injury was no small thing either. Henry's rope of cum was impressive.
"I, mm, presume that was to your liking," Cammy asked, her voice a little husky.
Henry could only manage a breathless, guttural sound of affirmation. 'Good? It was transcendental.'
"I'm glad. This…thing of yours…it's quite big," she remarked clinically, licking her lips as she gave his shaft a slow, admiring stroke from root to tip. "A impressive specimen. Thick. And your testicles are full. A healthy load, I'd wager."
He blinked, the absurdly analytical comment cutting through his lust-haze. 'She wagers…? Wait a minute…'
Everything was slowly starting to add up and hit him. "C-Cammy, hold on, is this your first date…ever?"
'Like me!?'
Cammy blushed and looked away from his cock. "W-well…I suppose, yes. Yes, this is my first date. I, erm, simply read that this was common first-date etiquette. A proper blowjob."
'Common etiquette!?' The phrase screamed in his mind. 'Where does that even—'
Politely, his voice cracking, he managed to ask, "Where… where did you read that from? I-it was…it was great. Really."
Cammy practically snapped back at him, looking at his cock, then tilting her head up at him. A cute, proud smile appeared on her face. "The internet. I watched videos to perfect my technique."
'No wonder.' The answer was so perfectly, tragically logical. He had a brief, hysterical image of her studying porn videos and then experimenting on bananas to "perfect" her technique.
Before he could formulate another thought, she dove back down, her mission clear. This time, there was no analysis, no conversation. Only action. Her mouth opened and took down his cock. Her technique changed too, becoming even more intense, more focused.
"C-Cammy—!"
Too late. She used her hands in tandem with her mouth, one pumping his shaft in a tight, twisting motion that matched the rhythm of her bobbing head, the other still cupping and massaging his balls. The wet, slick sounds filled the quiet apartment.
A lewd symphony conducted by a master martial artist. By a woman who, for all intents and purposes, was far beyond his league.
Her suction intensified to a degree that felt inhuman. A perfect, steady pressure that threatened to pull the very essence from his core. He could feel the coiling tension in his balls, a familiar, urgent pressure building with terrifying speed. His hips gave an involuntary jerk, but her hands on his thighs held him firm, pinning him to the couch. She was in complete control.
"I'm… Cammy, I'm gonna…" he rasped, a final warning shot across the bow.
Cammy didn't even pause. If anything, she proceeded to just deepthroat him, her throat muscles fluttering around the head of his cock in a rapid, milking pulse that shattered the last of his control.
The orgasm erupted from him with volcanic force and the first powerful jet hit the back of her throat. He expected her to pull away, to splutter, to do anything but what she did.
She swallowed again. She swallowed, obediently.
He felt the convulsive click of her throat as she took the first burst, and then she held him deep, her lips sealed tightly around the base of his shaft as pulse after pulse of his release was pulled from him. She pulled back on his cock slightly, as if learning on the job. As if realizing that deepthroating the full thing and swallowing was slightly more difficult. Now at the tip, she drank him down without a single hitch, without a single drop wasted.
At the same time, her hands stroked his cock. Milked him for more and more.
The ropes of cum he delivered were unbelievable as was the accepting suction of her mouth.
When the last shuddering spasm finally subsided, she didn't immediately release him. She stayed there for a long moment, humming softly as she licked the cockhead clean with delicate, kittenish strokes, ensuring every last drop was cleaned and hers. "Mmmm~!" Finally, she leaned back, wiping her mouth with the back of her gauntleted wrist. She looked up at him, her expression one of satisfied duty.
"There now," Cammy said. "All proper. No more surprises either."
Indeed, no random spurt of cum landed on her face this time.
- FULL PART ON PATREON -