tagGroup SexFotoFun: Angle of View Ch. 03: Final

FotoFun: Angle of View Ch. 03: Final


Author's note: The following incidents are probably mostly fictional, even just plain fantasy. All sex involves living humans aged 18+, even the civilians. The story contains multiracial, bisexual, and anal elements; if you object, stop reading. Views expressed are not necessarily the author's. Information may not be totally accurate.

The first two chapters, FotoFun: Angle of View 01 and 02, contain necessary background info. Read them first.


FotoFun: Angle of View 02

The Command Sergeant Major's daughter's wedding


The time: after VietNam

The place: Fort Riley, Kansas

The situation: Ambiguous

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Something like that. The best because I had an insanely great job and I got laid a lot. The worst because... well, I'll get to that later, and the job, too. Right now, let's talk about getting laid.

But wait, you say, it's too soon for that. Don't just jump straight into sex. Some foreplay is needed before the fucking starts. Be gentle, dude.

Okay then. I'll start with my insanely great job.

I had not formally trained in photography; I was raised there. I spent much of my suburban childhood in Dad's little darkroom in our garage, next to a large model train layout, and sawdust-coated power woodworking tools, and bales of camping gear. We processed and printed under the darkroom's dim red safelight amid chemical fumes. The old vacuum-tube National shortwave radio Dad built from a correspondence-course kit when he was a teenager was always tuned to some foreign station, usually playing opera. Dad loved classics.

Dad introduced me to lighting, and decisive moments, and pre-visualization. He also taught me to solder my own radio, video, and other electronics kits. I singed fingers on hot solder many times; I have scars. Ah, the memories...

Those became the centerpoints of my life: photography and radio.

I grew up a photographer but I trained in broadcast electronics. I also messed up my civilian life a bit; vagabond living will do that. I needed a fresh start so at the ripe old age of 24 I joined the US Army. Surviving Basic was easy; as a rabid hiker and biker, I was in better shape than many high-school athletes. Training as a military communications tech in the post-VietNam era was a snap; I was already a licensed radio engineer. A security clearance was more elusive due to my old pot bust. I was never cleared to work commo.

The fickle finger of fate gave me the unofficial photography gig. I was paid (a little) to do what I loved with minimal real supervision. My unofficial fringe benefits were spectacular: a little more money and lots of sex.

Enough about the job. Now let us talk about getting laid.


--- getting laid

"You only going to talk about it, Carson, or you going to DO it?"

Camilla's soft voice belied her strong fingers cupping my testicles. She gave a little squeeze. Damn, that girl can be distracting!

"Gonna DO it, mamacita," I promised.

I leaned on my right elbow to circle a wide, dark areola with my tongue and nibble a cheeky nipple. My left hand cupped her other bouncy breast, then migrated down her sleek, sulky body to stroke strong thighs and pet a brisk razor-trimmed pubic delta. She sighed when my insistent first finger found its way through her edgy labia and teased into her well-moistened canal.

She sighed louder when I spread her thighs and smoothly entered her. She gasped when I speared her, and pulled back, and and slid in balls-deep. She wrapped her legs around my waist; I rolled us sideways, one of my favorite positions, so I could freely touch her.

I kissed her face and neck and breasts. She squeezed tighter and whimpered. We lay quiet, concentrated, radiating, barely moving. We were very tantric.

Okay, enough of that gentle stuff. We rolled back into full missionary mode; I commenced fucking her. I practiced the ten-count technique. Ten long, slow strokes. Pause. Nine long strokes, then a fast, short one, and pause. Eight longs, two fast bangers, and pause. And so on, down to one long and nine hot pokes, and then ten to break the bank.

Maybe it was the rhythm or the angle or whatever. Maybe my dickhead caught her clit and G-spot (if any) just right. Whatever. Camilla reacted.

Camilla bucked against me, and moaned, and spider-wrapped me closer, and shook, and screamed. Her pussy clenched like a gripping hand. What could I do but reward her with a jet of hot semen? Well, that jet filled my habitual condom rather than her womb. I was happy anyway.

We were screwing in my tidy off-post Junction City apartment which doubled as photo studio space. Camilla Sanchez was a fairly regular girlfriend. Not exclusive, and not live-in - she still stayed at home. Her mechanic father repaired farm equipment. Her cosmetician mother repaired farmer's wives.

"I love you."

No, we never told each other that. We did not lie. We were only part-time fuckers, what we would now call Friends With Benefits. Our benefits arrived most Monday and Thursday evenings, two nights she did not have community college classes after her daytime retail job.

That schedule was fine with me. I stayed busy the other nights.

"Fuck me, baby!"

We said that a lot. We meant it. We liked fucking.

We started fucking when power-tripper Staff Sergeant 'Mule' Mueller brought her to my home studio for an 'intimate' photo shoot. Camilla was the first of Mule's many girls I photographed. He invited me to "tap her ass" when he was done with her, same as his other girls. Mule only wanted shoots when he tired of his current pussy(s) and was ready for fresh meat. The shoots were only trophies, like taxidermied animal heads hanging on his wall.

All of Mule's cast-offs were trophies and beauties. Some visited afterwards, even the university girls. Kansas State U. and Aggieville were on the far side of Fort Riley from my digs. Not insurmountable, merely inconvenient.


--- Keri visits

I was not dependent on Mule's or anyone's leftovers; I found girls on my own. And sometimes they came hunting me. Case in point: my old lover Keri.

Keri and I had co-habited in Los Angeles and a bit in San Francisco. [See Ron's Journal 04 for that story.] Keri was tall, very thin and tangy with small tits, a long slit, a button nose and edgy features under her long black hair, and a sharp and pitiless mind behind those hazel eyes. Her mid-Atlantic accent hinted her past: born on US embassy compound in iron-curtain Berlin, educated mostly in England, disillusioned by stateside life.

She found me on the streets of Hollywood and somehow she desired me. But why me? Keri wanted marriage but I had not yet bothered to divorce my absentee wife MariLyn. This pissed-off the easily-pissed Keri. Too bad. We drifted.

Unbeknownst to either of us, Keri and I had enlisted in the Army the same month and in similar electronics specialties. With her connections and her impeccable security clearance, she got much better postings; her TDY (temporary duty) assignments took her to numerous bases, including mine.

Keri had passed through a few months before, assigned to The Big Red One for a one-week TDY. She repeated the assignment recently. Like last time, she spent her off-duty hours naked in my rooms trying feverishly to convince me to make her happy forevermore.

Slender Keri lay atop me. We 69'd for close involvement, wet lubrication, and face-filling oral cums, and we kept going for her joy and my revival. Her tight ass filled my hungry hands as my mouth ravaged her sizzling pussy.

My semen supply recharged; my howitzer hardened; she swung around, quickly rolled a condom on me, and smoothly impaled herself. As always, her big eyes widened like a Blythe doll. Her Marilyn Monroe "oohhh..." fluttered in the still air.

And Keri did fuck me to death, rising and falling, rolling and rocking, bouncing and rumbling, her loins sweating on mine, faster and furiouser, while I reached up to abuse her long, stiff nipples. She came, and rocked, and came again, and rolled, and came yet once more, and rippled, and yelled.

Enough was enough. I pushed Keri over into puppy-fuck position and pounded her inviting ass. My fingers gouged her thin, pale flesh; she would bear my bruises for days. Good. All the more to remember me by. Bruises, and joy.

And I did fuck Keri into submission. Almost. I doubted that she would ever submit. But I managed to beat us both into near-exhaustion.

The sheets were soaked and so were we. Keri hung on me, her thigh draped over mine, her hand massaging my soft, soaked snake, gently churning our mixed juices into a gooey froth.

"So when are you going to do it, Ron?" She tickled my glans. I shivered.

"Do what?" Two can play that game; I slid fingers into her sopping slit.

"Dump that slut MariLyn. She's swapping-off with David and Carl and Alex, y'know. File for a California no-fault divorce. Get free. Marry me."

"I'm in no rush. She'll file on me eventually - her dime, not mine."

"Goddammit Ron, you fuckhead, that's no excuse! You're going to Jew-out on the money thing? Shit, no! I'll pay for the fucking filing! Just do it!"

That is what Keri really wanted: Me. Could I handle that? I knew we would get along; we had, for quite a while, even with me fucking around whenever I wanted. She knew about that. But go permanent with her? I didn't know.

Ah, Keri. We were never soulmates. I felt a desperation in her.

Desperation, or a premonition? A heart attack two years later killed Keri at age twenty-eight. We could never have been. But that is another story.

"Why me, babe?" That was a rhetorical question; my fingering had her close to another climax.

"Don't be a jerk." Her handiwork had me almost stiff again. "You know I've always wanted your ass."

"You had to tease me for a few weeks first, remember?" I prodded deeper.

"You deserved it, what with your stupid street-mime routine." She moaned.

"Worked, didn't it?" Another rhetorical question. Another moan and spasm.

"Oh shit, oh shit..." Keri was doing a fish-out-of-water flop-around now.

I decided to show mercy. I crawled between her thighs and tongued her clit.

"Oh fuck oh fuck ohhh..." and more spasming and "OH FUCK ME AAAHHHH..."

Her scream faded when I rolled on a condom and climbed atop her for a long, hard, fierce missionary fuck. Our sweat mingled; our juice-soaked mouths merged. We came together, shuddering, groaning, exhausted. Wasted.

"Damn you, Ron. You always give me the best fucks of my life. You asshole." She punched my side.

That "Why me?" question was real. What had Keri or other girls seen in me back then? Other than my wonderful cunt-splitter, heh heh. I was a parasite; I lived off them. My "stupid street-mime routine" only drew enough coins in a hat to stay fed and high. I had basically owned a guitar, rucksack, camp gear, a few thrift-shop clothes, and a shifting stack of cheap paperbacks and comix. I was free-floating through life then. Keri, and Mir, and Linda, and others, all saw enough potential to support me. Why?

"Is a puzzlement," as a song goes.

I was more curious than worried by this conundrum. I was, and still am, an opportunistic bum. I take what is offered. Especially pussy. I have yet to have bad pussy; even bad pussy is good pussy.


--- intruders arrive

Keri rubbed her wet pussy against my thigh. My doorbell buzzed.

"Ignore that," Keri growled, "nobody's home."

"Well, my van's in the parking lot, so it's kind of obvious..."

The door buzzer sounded again. And again. Then some door-pounding. And female shouts.

I sighed, crawled from bed, tossed the condom and pulled on my not-totally-clean khaki boxers, and stumbled the hallway from my bedroom to the entry.

Our energetic fucking left me somewhat groggy. I did not take active precautions. I did not peer through my front door's peephole. I did not attach the security chain. I only threw the latch.

Three university girls, Aggieville girls in bright nylon shorts and halters, pushed past me. Sly slender Thalia with tightly curled black Aegean hair and a tight, exercised body led curvy dirty-blonde sisters Sandi and Cindy in a fast procession into my bedroom. Cindy dragged me along after a tongue-filled kiss.

I had done 'intimate' shoots with the threesome before - several times with hot, friendly Thalia. Hmmm, how would Keri react to this invasion? She did not usually like surprises.

Nobody saw me bump the switch triggering two of my hidden Bolex 16mm cameras to silently capture the scene at two monochrome frames per second.

"Oh Ronny, we just wanted a few more shots, y'know, for fun, the kind you like too, but I guess you're busy with your little girlfriend, huh? Too busy for us, maybe?" Thalia pouted. "Or maybe we can..."

Keri sat up naked on the rumpled bed, making no effort to cover her thin nudity. She sounded stunned. "Ron, what the-??"

My new visitors quickly kicked away sandals and moccasins. Sandi and Cindy were already shrugging-off their minimal clothes. Thalia was not far behind the grain-magnate's daughters.

"She looks so lonely, all by herself there in that big, bad bed," Sandi teased. She crawled in beside Keri.

"Yes," Thalia said, "any girlfriend of Ronny's is our girlfriend too." She rolled onto Keri's other side. "Don't mind us. We're here for you."

"Well, we're here for you too, Ronny," Cindy laughed. She dropped to her knees in front of me and dragged my boxers down. She gave my well-used cock a long, wet lick. "Oooh, you've been busy, haven't you?" She slurped me again and inhaled my pubes, savoring Keri's and my mixed scents. "Not bad, not bad. I'll have to try that from the source, both of you. Hey, I'll start here." She hopped onto the bed and planted herself between Keri's thighs.

Cindy looked over her shoulder at me. Her dirty-blonde ponytail swung down across her back. "Hey Ronny, how about a doggy fuck while I'm doing this taste test, huh?" She raised her butt and lowered her mouth, first to kiss Keri's inner thighs, then to attack her pussy.

How did I expect Keri to react? Hard to tell. Maybe not quite like this. No, she did not struggle much.

Keri was somewhat immobilized at the moment, lying flat on her back and gasping. Thalia and Sandi suckled Keri's small breasts. Sandi scrunched around so her own lovely teat was at Keri's mouth. Was it instinct, or experience? Keri sucked, and bucked under Cindy's tongue, and fitfully squeezed her tormentors. Ah, such torture!

I happily accepted Cindy's invitation. Yes, the afternoon with Keri had left me pretty drained, but watching this instant hot girl-on-girl-on-girl-on-girl action managed to visually stimulate me, ya think? My cock revived; I promptly fetched another condom.

Standard field artillery procedure is to fire ranging shots to bracket and pinpoint a target, then zero-in to accomplish real damage. Fire for effect!

I moved behind Cindy. I rubbed my stiffening cock against her vulva - not real wet, yet. I stooped to apply natural oral lubrication and my own taste-test. Yum. My tongue was happy.

My tongue caressed Cindy's clit and lapped her fluffy labia. She moaned, and wiggled, and exuded her spicy, sexy dew. Yum-yum.

My nose brushed her rosebud. She moaned more, longer, and dove deeper into Keri's chasm. Yummy-yum-yum.

I repositioned and raked my cock over Cindy's nether lips. Ah, nicely wet! I lined up, slid in, tested a few ranging probes, and then - Fire for effect!

My age was on the far side of twenty-five years; I was no longer a kid. I could not cum on command, over and over, but I could sure make the right moves. I buried myself dependably in Cindy. I changed angles and strokes and went for the gold. Sure and steady, in and out, over and over, oh yes...

I seemed to hit a sweet spot - Cindy raised her head and screamed softly, and again, and again, a stream of orgasms.

Cindy was reduced to whimpering as I continued stroking in her.

"Oh fuck, Ron, that's enough for now," Cindy wheezed. Cindy pushed me off her butt and rolled off Keri and beside Thalia. She slapped at Thalia's taut, slim legs. "Hey T-girl, you should get a taste of this."

Thalia grinned, "Hey, yeah!" She crawled over Cindy and replaced the blonde, ass up, face down, her tongue extended, lapping at groaning Keri who was still orally engaged with Sandi. Time for another condom! Thalia moaned when I spread her creamy buns and slowly speared her wetly anticipating pussy balls-deep on my still-rigid ramrod. This was a familiar position for us.

And how familiar was Keri with girl-sex? I never saw her lez side before.

She and Sandi had energetically mouthed each others' breasts for some time now. Sandi moved to straddle Keri's head and lower her pale muff to my military girlfriend's mouth. I watched Keri's tongue lap at Sandi's vulva in fast, swirling swipes and prods. I doubted this was her first time.

I moved faster into Thalia. "Hey there T-girl, does this work for you?"

Thalia shoved her butt back to meet my rapid thrusts. I held her slender hips; I pulled us into slightly different postures, slight adjustments of attack, seeking her own sweet spot. Her yells, muffled by Keri's dark muff, proved me right on target.

Thalia convulsed under me. Her cunt muscles gripped my cock like a fist. I felt my orgasm surging. So near, so near...

And then Cindy snuck behind me and slid a juicy finger knuckle-deep into my asshole. Holy shit! I cried, and spewed, and spewed more, and more, shooting a painful load into the condom. Stars behind my eyes; thundering pulse in my ears; fire in my urethra; I must have blown a hole in that Trojan!

Cindy held my shoulder for stability. I turned to her; she slanted to kiss me, her first finger still probing my prostate. Her endless stimulation prevented my cock from softening.

Cindy's hand set a rhythm and a reaction in motion. Her finger penetrated my bowels; my rigid ramrod sluiced into Thalia's pussy; T-girl's long tongue ramped-up on Keri, who slurped harder at Sandi, who twitched and moaned. Cindy's hand pulled back, and so did we all. And then forward again, and back, an immaculate machine driven by Cindy's gestures.

Thalia pulled her face away from Keri's soggy pubes. "Oh fuck, Ron," she groaned, "doesn't that thing ever give up?"

I pushed into her again, and out, and in, indestructibly hard. My mouth left Cindy's long enough to reply, "As long as Cindy keeps poking me, I'll keep poking you."


Cindy poked me again. That invasive first finger was maddening!.

Thalia scooted up, pulled off my cock with an audible 'pop', and rolled to the side, gasping. She had the presence of mind to pull off my overloaded condom and toss it aside.

Sandi took the opening to lean forward into a 69 with Keri, lovingly laving my old girlfriend's labia, tongue-fucking into her core, and slurping her excited clit. Keri's knees squeezed Sandi's blond head; my thin girlfriend's hands pressed Sandi's pussy to her anxious mouth. They rocked and moaned.

Did I moan too, watching their lascivious display? I might have. Or maybe I will blame my voicings on Cindy's mischievous finger. I certainly voiced my pain and relief and disappointment into Cindy's kiss when she extracted her dirt-finger from my anus. She carefully wiped that digit on my wadded top sheet. I made a mental note to run the sheets through an extra wash cycle at the Laundromat.

Cindy scooted beside Thalia. All their and my eyes were glued to the 69ing convolutions as Sandi and Keri clutched and devoured each other.

"That looks like fun," Thalia said, stroking Cindy's cheek. "Just like back in the dorms. Hey, ya wanna...??"

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