A Video of Her Husband Masturbating

The lingo didn't confuse Cheryl. Her job at the advertising agency meant she knew all about video productions. And, yes, there were water cooler tales at the agency of supposed actors that cost the agency way more than it was paid due to the constant need for re-takes because the model — usually a client's niece or nephew or friend of a friend who was pushed as a condition of hiring the job for the training video or PR piece or whatever — couldn't take direction or produce what was needed in front of the camera.

"The hourly rate is the only way we can ensure our labor costs when working with non-professional actors, so please understand the necessity for our billing practices."

"Yes, yes, of course," Cheryl answered, nervously tugging on her robe as she listened to more of the details.

"Post-production generally takes three to five hours, again at the special offer's $200 per hour rate. The result is a 10-minute video that is professional in every detail."

The mental calculation was quick for Cheryl: one thousand dollars, give or take, and that would be the minimum based on how well she performed in front of the camera.

Performing in front of the camera! she thought anxiously. Could I actually do this?

The aborted attempt at making her own video was one thing. It was just her alone with the little camcorder in their bedroom.

But doing this!

"Um, can you describe a little bit about the actual session," she stammered. "You, know, stuff like the set, the videographer. Is there a director on the set, too?"

She finished her questions early — there was more she wanted to ask — but her voice cracked at the end, and Cheryl didn't want any more of her anxiety to come through the phone to the woman at the production company.

"Well, first, the good part is that there will be two videographers, even at the special price. It's unusual, we know, but the cost of the secondary videographer always works out to more than pay for itself.. That's the videographer who focuses on different camera angles, close-ups, and other video that then is edited into the final product. This cuts down the time spent in front of the camera."

Given her aborted self-video session of earlier that day, Cheryl instantly appreciated the process being described.

But . . . TWO videographers? If she did this she'd be naked and masturbating in front of TWO strangers?

Shit!

Then another thought, instantly: And having TWO strangers watching me as I get into the poses I know will drive Brad crazy? Exposing every inch of my pussy, my ass — IN CLOSE-UPS!

Double and triple shit!

"And," continued the voice on the phone, jerking Cheryl back from an overload of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, "we've discovered in shots with the men who sometimes hire us for these kinds of videos that the second videographer is quite necessary. Given the recovery time that's needed when it's just a single videographer who has to get different angles and framings of the high point the guys want in their videos . . . well, you understand."

Finally refocusing on something other than her own concerns about being the star of such a video, Cheryl thought to herself, Nicely put, in response to what the woman on the phone had just said. Even the description of the cum shot avoided any hint of vulgarity. The company's receptionist, or whoever this was that answered the phone, must have been trained in how to speak about such details with potential customers.

"Would this be a video of you or of your significant other?" asked the phone voice. "If it's a video of a male, we suggest-"

"No, no," Cheryl interrupted, "this would be a video of me."

If I can actually make myself do this, she thought.

"Excellent," said Z and E's phone representative. "Sometimes the men are a bit too shy to call and set things up, and they have their wives or girlfriends make all the arrangements."

Good grief! Cheryl thought. This must be more common than I thought. Women calling up to make these arrangements for their guys?

"Unless there's something unusual that develops, we've found a normal turnaround time is two to three weeks after the shoot," said Z and E's employee.

Chewing her lip for a moment, Cheryl then asked the important question. "And your policies and practices for ensuring the privacy and security of your clients on projects like this?"

The woman on the phone was ready for that question. It took a good three minutes just to cover all the ways Z and E Productions guaranteed that only the videographers and the post-production person would ever see the video, that all the digital files created in the process were password-protected, and so on and so on. It wasn't until the end of the explanation, though, that Cheryl was completely reassured.

"And because you're hiring Z and E to do this project," the woman said, "that makes us liable during the time frame beginning with the video session and completely through post-production until we deliver to you a DVD and a jump drive with the raw footage, the edited product, the project files from the editing program — everything. If the video ever got out or was even seen by anyone other than our two videographers and editors during this time, it would be, as you can imagine, terrible for the business."

Made sense.

"Upon delivery, after you've signed for receipt, we permanently erase all files. Zoe and Ethan are very serious about contractual obligations."

"So, umm, are Zoe and Ethan by any chance-"

"Yes," the woman interrupted, a smile in her voice. "Zoe Gannett and Ethan Bluestone are the videographers who would be shooting the video. They own the business and have found a niche market both commercially and with this kind of service. And, on jobs like this, it is only one or both of them doing the post-production work, as well. No one else here at Z and E ever sees any of these video files."

The woman's descriptions of file security were reassuring.

It was something else that caused the anxious tension insinuating itself across Cheryl's shoulders and down her spine: If she did this, she would be splayed open in front of a strange man who'd be filming her as she masturbated nude in front of his camera. And there would be a strange woman there, too, filming her solo masturbation video.

They'd both hear the nasty things she would be saying as she looked into the cameras.

God! She'd have to tell Brad that two people had recorded her. And one of them was a guy!

Would it upset him? Would he get mad?

Then, a memory flashed across her mind.

Would it make him hot?

Last summer Brad's family rented a cabin in the mountains for a week. His mom and dad, sister and brother-in-law, and his two cousins and their families, along with Brad and Cheryl, enjoyed the outdoors, played cards, cooked on the grill down by the lake, and pretty much disconnected from their work-a-day worlds.

It had been a wonderful getaway.

The second day they were there, Brad and Cheryl headed out early, grabbing some granola bars and telling the others they wanted to do some early morning hiking.

Mid-morning found them at a secluded and vacant camping site. The picnic bench at the site was weather-worn but serviceable, so they sat down on one side, facing away from the table, and leaned their backs against the tabletop, resting. The forest canopy let in only filtered sunlight, and it wasn't hot yet with the afternoon heat and humidity.

A slight breeze rustled through the foliage at the edge of the camp site, and the birds were chirping in a punctuated counterpoint. It was peaceful and comfortable.

Cheryl snuggled against Brad, happy in the beautiful setting with her husband.

Fifteen minutes later, Brad was kneeling between Cheryl's spread legs, her shorts and panties in a tumbled pile on the picnic table and her shirt opened and front-clasp bra undone. One of her hands was on the back of his head, and the other was twirling and tugging a stiff, taut nipple.

Damn! Brad knew how to eat pussy. He proved it the first time they made love, and he had continued to give her great orgasms with his tongue and mouth for the three years since.

His streak would not be broken this time, Cheryl knew, savoring each, more intense plateau she climbed as Brad's tongue swirled again across her clit. He was going to make her come.

Then, Cheryl heard a car crunching across the park's graveled roadway that meandered around the periphery of the camping sites. The picnic bench was maybe 20 yards away from the roadway.

"Brad!" she whispered anxiously. "Someone's on the road!"

She quickly began fumbling with the clasp on her bra.

Brad raised up on his knees, and she felt the rough fabric of his shirt as he pressed himself against her, forcing her hands away from her bra. He kissed her quick and hard, with an urgency that surprised her.

Breaking the kiss, he said softly, "You were just about to come. I could tell. You need it, baby — you need to come right now, and I want to eat your pussy until you do. It's just the park ranger making his rounds."

"But, Brad-"

"Shhh," he whispered, beginning to kiss his way down her throat to her collarbone. "He'll see a young couple making love in the park." His mouth reached her nipple. "What's he gonna do? There's no one else around for at least a half a mile, and he knows it." Brad sucked her nipple into his mouth, then released it with a pop. "Why don't you give him a show with your gorgeous tits while I get back to licking your pussy?"

"But-"

His lips sealed around her nipple, and he slid one hand down between her legs to slip two fingers between the wet lips of her pussy.

"Oh, shit, that feels good," Cheryl said, a shiver snaking along that dependable highway between her nipples and her pussy. "But what if he stares right at me? He'll see-"

Brad's fingers slipped inside her, his fingertips angled up, and he pressed rhythmically against her G-spot.

"Oh, god, oh, god, I'm gonna come!"

Cheryl's arms flew back, stretched out along the edge of the tabletop, and she gripped the weathered wood for leverage as she arched her back, the prelude to an orgasm advancing quickly and with no chance of denial.

Brad moved instantly back between her thighs, slipped his hand from her pussy and sealed his lips around her clit, thrumming it insistently, pushing her inevitably toward orgasm.

"That's it, baby," he said, momentarily releasing her throbbing clit. "You're so hot and sexy like this, and your tits look great!"

Whether it was her husband's compliment, crudely expressed as it was in the heat of their forested coupling, or the added excitement of sex in the open with the chance a stranger would see them — see her topless, nipples hardened in sexual excitement — as she displayed her pleasure at having her pussy licked and sucked, Cheryl finally surrendered to her orgasm.

Refocusing after her climax (and it took a few seconds), Cheryl realized the car was gone.

Or maybe it never had been there. Maybe she just thought she heard a car.

Or maybe it had been the park ranger, and maybe he had braked to a stop with a perfect view of what they doing and watched Cheryl, topless and squirming through an intense orgasm as Brad did his usual, stellar job on her hardened and aching clit.

Brad rose from his knees and sat next to her as Cheryl quickly buttoned up and grabbed her shorts and panties from the table to scramble into them.

In her haste to get her clothes back on, it was only after she was completely put back together did she realize Brad had unzipped, fished his cock from his shorts, and was stroking it as he watched her.

"Brad-"

"Damn, Cheryl! My sexy wife with her fantastic breasts and her long, gorgeous nipples all hard and excited, shaking and jiggling through an orgasm as some guy watched it all. You are so-o-o-o naughty," Brad said with a grin, teasing her. "But I couldn't be more turned on right now thinking how jealous that park ranger must be that I have such a sexy, beautiful wife."

His hard cock was testament to his statement about being turned on.

Cheryl was a little disappointed there wasn't anyone around to see how lucky she was to have a husband with seven inches of beautiful hard cock, to see her fellatio skills in tending to his lovely erection. It took only a minute or two of her blowjob for Brad to erupt with a groan, and Cheryl savored every delicious drop as she kneeled in front of him at that picnic table in the park.

So . . . maybe — if she could go through with it — seeing the video and knowing Cheryl was naked and masturbating in front of two other people in order for the video to be made would blow Brad's mind. In a good way.

If she could go through with it.

The woman's voice on the phone interrupted again.

"Hello? Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yes, yes," Cheryl responded, realizing her sexy memory had distracted her to the point of drifting away from the conversation. "I think I lost the connection for a second for some reason."

"I don't know if you noted the expiration date on the special offer," the woman continued, "but the offer ends today, and we close at 5 PM, so . . ."

The woman's voice trailed off, the implication clear.

A thousand dollars!

But it would cost another $250 if she didn't take advantage of the special.

A thousand dollars!

But Brad's surprised face when she told him what she'd done, that she would play the video for him, but only if he were nude and masturbating while he watched it.

So-o-o-o-o hot!

And she'd get her own video out of the bargain — a tribute video made just for her by her nude, sexy husband as he stroked his gorgeous cock to orgasm in their den while he watched her on screen doing and saying everything she knew would make him crazyhot with lust for her.

"Do you take MasterCard?"

***

The first time Z and E Productions had available on their schedule wasn't until two weeks in the future, but Cheryl couldn't take time off from her job on a weekday, so it was an additional week beyond that before Z and E had an open Saturday time slot. Though 9:30 a.m. until noon wasn't a time Cheryl would have chosen if she had her rathers, the next Saturday opening after that wasn't for another two months.

Saturday, June 14th, 9:30 a.m.

The date demanded her attention every time Cheryl had a free moment to consider what she had gotten herself into.

For almost a month, she would have to think about being naked in Z and E's studio with "Zoe" and "Ethan" video-recording her. One of them would be taking close-ups of her breasts, her nipples, her pussy, her asshole (would it be Ethan? Zoe?). For three weeks she'd have to worry about doing this!

A week before the date, though, Cheryl was to go to the studio to provide some pre-session information the Z and E receptionist said would make the video shoot go more smoothly.

Cheryl was anxious about the pre-session meeting, to say nothing of the shoot itself.

I have to walk into a place I've never been and have a conversation with someone I've never met, and tell them about the video I want them to shoot of me naked, masturbating, and showing every inch of my body for them to record with their cameras, she thought, a hollowness working its way down her throat and into her stomach every time Cheryl considered the upcoming conversation at Z and E.

It would be maybe the scariest thing she had ever done.

That's why she asked Laura to accompany her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Laura said in the ad agency break room the day Cheryl asked her. They were alone in the room and seated at one of the small tables where you could munch on something and read a magazine or surf the web while on break.

Cheryl had just run through a 90-mile-an-hour explanation of what she was going to do, including the part about Laura going with her to Z and E for the visit before the recording session. Just saying it out loud made her nervous, and she wanted to get through it all before she lost her nerve.

"My mostly straight-laced friend, Cheryl Morris, who didn't even know about tribute videos until I told her — what, only two or three weeks ago? — is now sitting right here and telling me she's going to get naked and masturbate in front of two people she's never met who are going to video record her doing it?"

Cheryl was red-faced. "That's why I need you to come with me when I go to Z and E for the pre-shoot meeting!" she said, pleading.

"You are blowing my mind, girlfriend," Laura said. "You are definitely getting your freak on!"

"Don't make this difficult," Cheryl answered, exasperated. "Just tell me you'll go with me."

Laura grinned. "I would not miss this for anything!"

"Don't be like that!" Cheryl exclaimed, then chewing her lip in consternation. "I just have to have someone with me. I don't think I can walk in there alone and tell them what I want to do in the video."

"I was teasing. You know that," Laura answered, looking at her friend square in the eye. "You know I'll do it, and I'll be there for you." She looked down, then to the door to make sure no one was entering the break room before confiding, "I think it's so cool that you're going to shoot a sexy video for your husband and then get a video of him watching it while he jerks off."

Hearing it described so bluntly by her best friend startled Cheryl for a moment, but Laura reassured her.

"It's just so kinky but lovely and loving all mixed together. I wish I had a guy I could do this for."

At that moment, Cheryl knew she was doing the right thing.

***

On the Saturday morning the week before the shoot, Cheryl, with Laura accompanying her for moral support, drove across town to Z and E Productions. She'd told Brad she and a group of friends from work were going to check out the new Ikea store that had recently opened, the first in the city.

"Say hi to Laura and Whitney for me," Brad said as she headed out the door earlier that morning.

NOT going to Ikea made Brad's Saturday morning a little more pleasant. He'd heard tales from husbands at his job who commented about the hours and hours they'd spent in the big stores in other cities, trapped in the labyrinth with wives who delighted at looking at the cool merchandise around the next corner. Cheryl knew this, having picked up on Brad's decided non-interest when she squealed in delight the first time she saw the announcement about Ikea opening in their city.

It made a great excuse: she could take several hours and Brad wouldn't suspect a thing. To top it off, he would be happy he wasn't with her.

Perfect. She had to keep everything top secret. Cheryl wanted to surprise him completely.

Z and E Productions was in a warehouse district, but not a run-down, shabby one. The store fronts attached to the warehouses were for businesses like upscale furniture outlets, office equipment rental firms, and even a space rented out specifically for pop-up shops that opened only for a week or two. The current tenant was a pop-up selling designer fitness gear for women.

Cheryl made a mental note to stop by after she and Laura left Z and E.

Parking right in front of the entrance, Cheryl and Laura climbed the several steps up to the small porch with the front door. They were greeted immediately by the receptionist at a desk in a nicely furnished, tasteful office space with a three-dimensional "Z & E Productions" sign extruded from the wall opposite the front door.

Rising from her seat behind the desk, the young receptionist — Jennifer — looked from Laura to Cheryl and extended her hand. "And one of you is Ms. Morris?"

"That's me," Cheryl answered, reaching to shake the receptionist's hand. "And this is Laura, a friend I brought along for support, if that's okay?"