Candid Camera Pt. 02

After that, Sharon heated up the shower and stepped inside, closing the glass with a rattle.

The smell of the men's soap in the shower was almost overwhelming- as she picked up the bath sponge, she noticed it was soaked in body wash, and she stared around at the bubbles on the walls. Okay, Ben. Whatever. Waste not, want not, right?

The hot water relaxed her tense limbs, and she knelt down, rinsing last night's- and this morning's- girlcum and semen off of her pussy. With the shower water, the stuff had re-hydrated, turning into a slick mess she rinsed from her hand over and over. She pulled her hand away as she felt her face getting warm and focused on washing Ben's saliva off her breasts and body.

As she did so, she found herself fondling her breasts, biting her lip to keep herself quiet as she felt herself getting turned on again, one hand now stroking over her well-bitten nipple, her other cupping her pussy, rubbing her fingers over her smooth slit, up to her clit. Ben's words in her head sent electricity up her thighs. She thought about the pictures on her phone- she'd save those for sure. She wanted to see all of it. Her index and middle fingers rubbed her clit faster as her breath turned into panting. Sharon intended to work out her lust here and now- she had to, she thought, or she might fall victim to it next time she and Ben were alone. She wanted to cum hard, really peak out- and be able to set that aside. She wasn't a slave to her desires. That was- that was just not her!

She slowed down as she began to shake. She thought about the pictures of her legs spread on the couch, drunk, naked, stuffed with cock. How her pretty coral pussy had been stretched so wide she could see the labia barely peeking out. She stroked herself, slow and deliberate. Ben's cock- oh god- hammering her insides, sliding across her cervix, pushing it hard as he creampied her, totally unknowing that he had taken her virginity in the most thorough and intimate way. She felt her orgasm building, and tapered off with a shivering breath, edging herself. She raised onto her knees, grabbed the cheap green apple shampoo Ben had started keeping in the shower when she had bitched at him that it was disgusting to wash your hair with body wash, and washed her hair, trying to keep her hands otherwise busy until her body calmed down. By the time she was rinsing it she was sucked into her fantasies of cum being sucked deep into her uterus as she orgasmed, being pounded hard on her hands and knees. What was Ben into, she wondered, her heart beating hard.

She sat back against the wall, one hand finding her clit again, the other sliding one finger, then two, into her pussy. She braced her feet on the wall and let the water pour over her as she fingered herself, teasing her clit, jaw clenched as she imagined herself- imagined herself- she searched for a fantasy that she could delve into. Ben's dripping cock, his fingers inside her. Groping her. Her mind slipped as her cunt grew tighter. She imagined her belly swelling with his baby, his hands holding her wide hips as he enjoyed her pregnant body. Bondage, hands tied up and legs tied open. The photographs. People watching her scream and writhe as he filled her, spread her open, left her vulnerable and wanting as- his mother watched her. If she hadn't called when she had returned home. Opening the door to see her son pounding her into the next dimension, breeding her with her knees pressed back over his shoulders. Shoving her dress- the nice, velvet, midi dress with the three-quarter sleeves and waist that sat right at her hips- the one she liked to wear for functions that didn't have to be too fancy- up her hips as she fell back on a bed, and parting her thighs by force as he took her. Her insides were seizing sporadically, begging for orgasm. Figures standing around the bed, random people- it didn't matter- as Ben stroked himself to full mast before flipping her skirt back and revealing her wet vulva, spreading her lips before entering her. She imagined them laughing and smiling as they watched her in a live pornography, grasping him, unable to let shame stop her from spreading her legs for him. The pictures of her defloration, the video of her, still cum-filled, begging for more, being passed around, played in the next room. As her imaginary literal cock-tail party unfolded, a woman's hand on her pubic bone, thumb fondling her clit while Ben ravished her. Male hands holding her arms up and out of the way as Toni's brass-colored fabric scissors sliced her dress open, displaying her bare, gold-cream breasts as they shook with the force of her mate. Onlookers participating now, they groped and kissed her as Ben drew closer and closer to orgasm between her athletic thighs. They edged her as she edged herself, slowing as they asked her to say degrading, shameful things- calling herself a cockslut, a cumdumpster, a fuckhole. Begging for him to use her for his pleasure, impregnate her. Use her body how she was raised to know it was meant to be used; her womb assailed with his semen as the woman- she pictured Jenny's delicate, manicured fingers- manipulated her to simultaneous orgasm. She heard herself gasp as she tipped over the edge. Her fantasy party pulled her legs back over her head, tying them to the bedframe to let her pussy drink it all down as she lay, submissive and weak, licking her taste and the taste of cum off of Ben's soft cock as he approached the side of the bed.

A strangled moan escaped her clenched jaw as she pushed hard against the shower wall. Her eyes rolled back and her head grew light. She slipped down with a thud, onto her back, clit and cunt still seizing. Grasping the dial with her feet, she cranked the cold water, and cooled herself down.

When she exited, she peeked around the door. She heard Ben and Ms. Joss upstairs, talking and laughing. She had shaken most of the water out of her hair, slipped on her sports bra and the Buffy t-shirt back on to cover the hickeys and marks on her breasts, sides, and collarbones. After rustling through Ben's dresser drawers behind the couch, she slid on a pair of his black briefs- snug over her round hips and rear- and a pair of his track shorts, tucking in the loose shirt and tying the front into something she figured had to look at least half-acceptable. Carrying her wet clothes, she ascended the stairs to the smell of strawberries and baked batter.

"Hey Ms. Joss," she said as she emerged. Ben was dressed now; loose jeans and one of the cheap white multi-pack cotton shirts he often defaulted to.

It had never been difficult for Ben to blend in. It came easy to him; and honestly, she kind of envied that. Sharon didn't seem to be able to capture that- as a kid, she had felt like a freak for her short hair and rough-and-tumble nature. Now, as an adult, she always felt observed in a different way; sized up. Even with her American Eagle jeans and sweaters, her styled, just-past shoulder length hair, her mindfully-practiced, minimal, foundation, lip gloss, and eyeliner looks, people stared, and it chewed at her mind.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Ms. Joss sang, and pulled the chair to her other side, across from Ben, away from the table. She seemed happy today. "Leave it to you to make even my son's clothes fashionable. Benny, you should take a tip," she teased, elbowing her son, who grumbled nonsense through a mouthful of waffles. Sharon smiled. Ms. Joss was a good mom, and a nice woman, she thought. She didn't know much about her, honestly, except that she had raised Benjamin alone and been a fervent hippy in her youth. She was one of those fine-boned older women who had retained their style and sparkle of a fervent youth.

"So, I thought of something you kids can do for me."

"What's that?"

Ms. Joss leaned back in the chair, folding her arms. "I think I want chickens again," she said. "Do you two think you could clean out the henhouse and get it ready? Fix the fence and what all?"

Sharon chewed the buttermilk waffles slowly. When she and Ben were 10, Ms. Joss had built and painted a large red and white henhouse in the backyard. Most children got a playhouse around then, but not Ben- though the henhouse was more than big enough to suit any kind of playhouse-adjacent activities desired, particularly Goosebumps books by eerie, swinging lightbulb.

Both kids had learned to rake out a coop and care for the- she thought- weirdly haughty animals, take in eggs, and scatter the food right so that the big chickens didn't pick on the little ones as quickly. Ms. Joss, though, could whistle at the chickens and have them darting toward her to sit in her lap or follow her around.

She had kept them for a few years before losing them to foxes, raccoons, or neighbors' dinners. For the past eight years the old henhouse had been unoccupied, and it was falling into disrepair now.

"That sounds good to me," Sharon said. "What kind?"

"Oh, I don't know. Something heirloom."

"That's cool, I can't wait to see."

"You nesting, Mom?" Ben asked.

"You're twenty years old! If I start nesting I've really lost it. I'll let the chickens take care of that."

Sharon managed to focus on Ms. Joss through nearly all of breakfast, only exchanging sporadic looks with Ben. While he and his mother did the dishes, she scampered downstairs to check her phone. As she turned it over, she saw she had texts from Hannah- not unusual- and, to her surprise, one from Toni. Perplexed, she opened the facebook message. Sharon sat down on the bed. To her surprise, it started with a 2 AM missed call notification... from herself. Sharon squinted at the screen now, eyebrows furrowing.

- heyy girl!! how are you?? saw u called me.

- u actually up? or is this a butt dial

- lol

a few minutes went by between the first messages. Then, from her own account:

- hewfirg tony1111 i will asgdsdffffff

"What?" Sharon whispered, involuntarily shaking the phone once, like it was an etch-a-sketch whose messages could simply be cleared.

- LOL, Sharon, what?

- aif i aeronautics administration

- I can't wait for u to see this tomorrow.

- so, u drunk or u asleep?

- I will have a good time and I will have

Sharon groaned. Fucking predictive text! Son of a bitch. She had sleep-posted a few times before, in the haze between being actually awake and dreaming. She scrolled down, dreading to see what she had hammered out to her unwitting high school acquaintance. As the "conversation" ticked on, eventually, Tonia pretended to understand what was being said, replying with "oh yea? really?" and "wow, then what happened?"

Then Sharon nearly dropped the phone. After a few long strands of jumbled keysmashing and autocorrect was a string of images. Two were screencaps of an eBay listing for a really good price on some trail-running shoes- size nine- name brand, new in box. She exhaled, frustrated. The third was topdown; the top of her head, hair strewn around her shoulders, hands high out frame. It looked almost upside-down, with her thighs parted wide around Ben's cum-covered cock, breasts covered in red hickeys and bite marks. Sharon went cold with dread. It took her ten long seconds to stop staring at her own nude body to read what Toni said.

- HOLY SHIT

- SHARON

- no way u knew u sent this girl

- but tbh, u look hot lol

- call ya when u sober up. ttfn babe

as she was staring at the screen, the phone buzzed in her hand. Tonia's name appeared. In a panic, she almost declined- finger swapping from side to side, then finally answering the call.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded a little raspy. She swallowed.

"Sharon!"

"Toni," she tried to conjure up a carefree voice.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm," she tucked her hair behind her ear, readjusting on the couch. "I'm good, how are you?"

"Seriously? You give me that answer after your texts last night?" Toni's laugh was high and clear.

"You can't tell anybody about that. Seriously."

"So..."

"So what?"

"Was that your friend? What's-his-name?"

"Toni, stop!"

"BEN!"

She pulled the phone away from her head, shoving her hand over the speaker. She hissed into Toni's laughter.

"Yes. I hate you. Seriously, you can't tell anybody. You have to delete that."

"No way."

"Toni, please!"

"You almost gave me a heart attack. I'm keeping it."

"Toni," she groaned.

"Mean it when I said you were hot," She purred. Sharon's face burned. "You scared the fuck out of me. But for real? I love to see you finally getting dick. You always seemed tense in high school. Send me more."

Sharon wanted to say 'stop messing with me.' She wanted to call her a pervert and hang up the phone. But not being able to tell anybody was taking its toll. She scanned the ceiling as she heard Ben and Miss Joss talking, milling around overhead. Sharon found herself striking a bargain.

"Promise me on your honor that you won't tell anybody or- or show them to anybody. Toni, I'm dead serious- swear on your life."

"Swear. Swear on my life. I won't tell a soul. C'mon Sharon."

Sharon took a few deep breaths, and hung up. Then, swiping into her photos, sent five in succession- each one part of several particularly hard thrusts into her, the ones that pulled her girlcum into shining crystal strands between her shaved pussy and the curls of the trimmed hair around his cock; her breasts slipping out from her hand.

She swallowed as she watched them send, one by one, and slid the phone into her pocket before darting back up the stairs. As she did, she felt her pocket buzz again.

- U are awesome. Cant wait to see more!!

Sharon twisted her sandy hair around her finger, put the phone away again, and trotted out to join Ben and his mother outside as they pulled supplies from the garage.