Milking-Table Twist: For Her

Tuck's fingers were swishing around her insides. He felt her spongy front wall flushing with pressure, and thrusted in and out across that textured, firm spot. This caused Moníca to groan wantonly and she arched her hips up and back as if trying to get away from Tuck's hand. When he began to allow it, backing out gently, she rammed herself down on his hand again, so he followed her up when she arched again. With her ass sticking into the air and her sex spread wide, the rear camera stared straight down behind her ass and up underneath her mound as Tuck gave her g-spot a long series of vigorous rubs with three fingers. She yelped into the microphone and sighed helplessly, with an open-mouthed frown of capitulation.

She hadn't come but the stimulation was beginning to numb her. She lowered her pelvis to the table again, sex hanging out over the hole. Her thighs and ass twitched convulsively as she rested. Tuck slowed the fingerbanging and held his hand still just half a fingertip depth inside her opening.

He got up on his knees and poked his head into the table hole. Her thighs were spread enough that there was room for the crown of his head to emerge without obstacle, and he brought his mouth close to her dripping cunt.

She felt him breathe on her. She cooed a sweet sad sigh out, wincing at the delicacy of it, so welcome and tender after the near-orgasm the clit massage had coaxed, and then denied. So subtle and enticing after the rapid rubbing of her swollen g-spot by his fingers.

Tuck inhaled, reveling in the scent of Moníca's thoroughly funky pussy. The perfume-box component was not quite obscured by the wet, humid fumes of her mucus. He could practically smell the blood which engorged her clit, g-spot and more. It certainly radiated her body heat onto his face. Some whiff of copper was present, possibly from the rawness of the flesh he had stroked so intensely. Or maybe the presence of a different fluid than the lubricating grool which flooded everything.

He exhaled another hot breath over her clit and the folds adjacent. He felt her sinking into the table, melting with surrender, and he applied his lips to her stubbly cunt. He licked through the length of her cleft, swallowing secretions and tickling the salty pee-hole. She squirmed at that and he left it alone.

The GoPro mounted on the table leg was in a fine position to record his oral efforts, but Tuck had brought his smartphone under the table with him and he swiped to start the camera, looking just briefly enough to turn on the device's lamp at the same time. He caressed Moníca's clitoral hood with the flat of his tongue while he did his best to aim the camera where he estimated the best image would be captured.

She rested, frustrated at the robbed orgasm and exhausted from the g-spot assault. But he was still giving her delicious sensations, and she felt disoriented, ping-ponging between an unsatisfied depression and the really pleasant pumping which she slowly realized was starting to throb in her clit.

When her clit started to respond to the gentle coaxing again, Tuck moved his head to the side a little and laid the edge of his tongue alongside the clit shaft. Nudging it from the side, he held back from sweeping his licks back and forth over it. Instead of rolling it under his tongue again like before, he just gave it a little push from the side, lifting his tongue so the clit shaft could slide back under it on the rebound.

It was probably a quarter or maybe a tenth of the stimulation he had showered on it before. Moníca began to find herself hungry for a ramp-up again, but Tuck just kept the pace steady, holding his phone at different distances and angles to capture the consistent motion. When her hips started to move again, all four cameras captured what Tuck would edit into a four-way splitscreen later:

The overhead cam saw her unseeing, sweaty face, soft as a baby's. Her eyebrows knitted now and then into the classic surprised expression. Her mouth gaped as she huffed easy breaths, in time with her undulating hips.

Behind her ass, the cam above her feet saw her butt rising and falling in front of Tuck's head. Her cheeks spread and closed with each cycle, and her toes curled and pointed.

The GoPro saw Tuck with a short-haired clam spread in front of his face, lips parted. The smartphone in his hand lit up the underside of Moníca's vulva. His tongue tasted the bobbing clit which rode along under her seesawing pubic bone.

The smartphone was close enough to capture the pink bean swelling and reaching, as if trying to escape from under the hood as the shaft was teased from the side. The flash steadily illuminated the intimate detail as Moníca's clit strained to reach orgasm.

Until it did. Tuck dropped the phone and needed both arms to contain Moníca's thrashing as the surging tide finally crested. He reached one arm all the way up through the table, around the side of his head to clamp down over her butt and hold her as still on the table as he could. Which wasn't very still at all, but he kept her motions to about a third of what would have happened without the restraint. Her thighs tightened around his ears and he was thinking about a dislocation or fracture of his neck until he got her under some small measure of control. His other hand went around an inner thigh and he wasn't sure it was helping.

Moníca burst into blue flame inside. Electric pulsations rocketed out from her groin and flooded her system. Her legs quivered, vibrating against the table as her hamstrings convulsed. She couldn't believe the force with which her pussy was flexing, over and over and over. She was glad Tuck's fingers weren't in there anymore. It might have hurt, she was clamping so hard. Her clit writhed against Tuck's tongue: Even though he had held it still since the seizure began, her clit was surging and lifting against it and being re-stimulated with each spasm.

She needed it to stop. Tuck brought his tongue back into his mouth, freeing the poor overwhelmed snail straining beneath her hood. His husky breath breezed over her sex, and even that was too much for Moníca.

Tuck tried to ease his head back and away from her cleft, but her thighs held tight. They were both trapped, it seemed. She, in a vicious cycle of stimulation and convulsions; he, in the vise of her legs. Just as the realization sank in that his breath was burning her out, and Tuck gulped in a big inhalation and tried to hold it to see if the circuit could be broken, that's when her nervous system simply shut down.

Her hypertonic, spasming body abruptly just opened up from the inside. Nervous channels undammed and opened completely, utterly without the maddening resistance before the insistent flood of messages from their hypersensitive endings. The signals had been allowed through unimpeded, and the sensations more or less quit, except for a feeling of her body floating in a rich, warm vapor, or being made out of empty space. It would have made her dizzy if her brain hadn't entered the same altered state, synapses a million miles wide and operating on black light.

Tuck extricated himself from the ragdoll on top of the table, and laid back on the bolsters, spent. He grinned broadly, feeling like a super stud after giving this lovely young woman an absolutely concussive orgasm. On camera. For sale.

All he had to do was edit and publish it.

And market it.

And create a merchant account with a payment processing company.

Actually, he couldn't wait to get going, now that he had raw material to work with.

He realized he had a vigorous erection. It was as hard as a triple dose of bluepill, and he hadn't even had any. It also felt a lot better than the pharma-enhanced version. It was like being sixteen again. He gripped it in his hand experimentally, and a flood of hot sex feeling gushed through his groin and guts, but he let it go and caught his breath.

"Fuckin' A, Tuck." She sounded deeply intoxicated, slurring and mumbling. Her breath was very deep and very slow. Tuck could hear it under the table. He was sure the microphone could too.

The crystal-planets music ended just then, CD over.

"Hey. Come hold me."

Tuck wasn't sure. "Uhh."

"Please."

Tuck got out from under the table, and stood by Moníca's side. She dragged herself around from facing down, to roll sunnyside up and reach for Tuck.

He was conflicted and felt awkward as he leaned over her, into her embrace and returning it. It worked for her, though, and she held on gratefully.

After a few breaths, she let go. "Guhh. Thanks." She wiped her nose, her eyes and her forehead. Snot, spit and sweat marked the white sheet beneath her head. She reached for her crotch and wiped at it, inspecting the copious slick which collected in her hand. "Is that all me?" she marveled.

Tuck chortled at that. "All you! Except for a ton of my spit."

"Are you hard?"

He could be honest without being unprofessional. "Hell, of course. Don't worry about it."

He walked away, out into the lobby, and shut the door behind himself.

Moníca took her time removing herself from the table. Tuck absolutely rubbed one out as he watched her on the security cam. She showered, rubbing her pussy quite a lot to rinse off all the fluids and possibly to coax some circulation and feeling back into it. It had to be numb after that shattering high-yield explosion. She dressed, seeming truly oblivious to the camera this time. She simply got herself dried and clothed, somewhat gingerly even though she was as underpants-free as she had started out.

Tuck shot off into his hand and carried it into the tiny office, looking for anything to wipe it onto. There was a single towel from the blue set he had procured for the studio, and he messed up its brand-new condition with quite a blob of semen. He folded it up, left it in there, and shut the door behind him on his way out.

He watched Moníca finish getting her sneakers on and take a couple of heavy deep breaths before she ventured out of the changing room and cross the studio to the front. Her extra money was waiting for her on top of the lobby counter, right next to the bag of hers which he had retrieved from back behind there and set where she could fetch it conveniently.

"Thanks so much. I have a little extra for you, because your strip show at the beginning was totally on point."

"Oh. Wow. Thanks. Glad you liked that, Tuck."

"You need anything?"

"I'm good. I'm good. Jesus. I didn't know it would be so intense."

"Too much?"

"No! No. I'd totally do another one. Now that I know what to expect!"

"Let's keep in touch," Tuck nodded graciously. He let her out and she pecked his cheek on her way through the door.

"Kymbrely" came and did the next session. They played it as if it were a legit massage-spa visit from the beginning, with Tuck sneaking under the table after lulling he into a near stupor with a standard PG-rated above-the-table massage. She put on a good act of being surprised, conflicted, and ultimately powerless to resist the sex.

Tuck's neck and shoulder were killing him after this, so he took two weeks off and rehabilitated himself. Then he had three sessions in three days, with his other two second-interview girls.

"Pfantayzya" brought her own favorite dildo, a seven inch neon blue thing, very fat around with wild round bumps all over it. It looked intense and made for a great show, but she had a little trouble orgasming until Tuck took it away and sucked her clit between her blonde-furred lips. That did it.

"Marcie Marce" brought a male friend to her first shoot. She didn't introduce Tuck and the guy, and he didn't know if he was a boyfriend or what. Marcie insisted that her friend should be in the room. There was one corner of the studio where they brought the armless chair from the changing room. The guy could sit there without being too intrusively in any of the frames. Tuck performed the introductions himself and had the guy sign the same screen-appearance contract, with "zero" dollars in the blank for the payment amount, and a handwritten and counter-initialed clause that his face would be digitally obscured in the released version of the video. Tuck photographed this page and the guy's ID with his smartphone and gave the guy the original.

The chaperone guy pulled down his shorts and jacked himself off while Marcie got mauled to orgasm by Tuck's hands. She asked him to shoot it onto her ass, and she came while stirring it across her skin, reaching back with her fingers.

He didn't come to Marcie's second shoot, where she dirty-talked loudly. She told Tuck what he was doing to her in really raunchy language. He masturbated her face up, face down, and finally on her hands and knees, so he came out from under and stood next to the table. He ate her from behind and fingered her doggystyle. She took a long time to orgasm but was an energetic and uninhibited performer. Tuck coached her a few times to stop acting like a porn star and just be herself. She still talked filthy but toned down the volume, the hammy squeals and the exaggerated gasps to a more genuine level.

He spent two weeks editing, and launched the website with the five massage table videos. He paid "Kymbrely" a hundred dollars to help him spend most of a day uploading freebie preview clips to the galaxy of porn promo sites out there, and the site racked up a few hundred sales pretty quickly. There wasn't enough content yet to sell subscriptions, so he sold the videos as pay per view, which worked great. He experimented with allowing downloads versus only streaming, and found that people would pay triple for download privilege.

The website's webmaster email was receiving frequent messages. They were mostly praise. There were some explicit video suggestions, and quite a few requests for live camming with the models, or their worn underpants. Tuck forwarded these to the models of interest, so that they could make their own such arrangements if they wanted.

He got the few female website correspondents to agree to have their messages posted on the site as testimonials. He started working on designing a splash screen for the start of his branded videos, incorporating these woman-positive testimonials.

Eight weeks in to the project, Tuck had netted over thirteen thousand dollars after expenses of thirty-two thousand. Not bad, considering he hadn't even started selling anything until the last two weeks. He had a queue of candidates responding to a new recruitment ad, and could start cranking videos out regularly if his arms would stop killing him. He was considering asking the models if any of them knew a guy, or a girl, who could get women off reliably.

The most popular download was always Moníca's.