My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 01

I was still so dumbstruck by his suggestion I just did as he told me.CLICK. I turned CLICK and faced him,CLICK putting my hands on my head. He snapped another picture.

"Okay. Now's the time - take off that silly underwear - it's not hiding anything anyway -- and let's see what a fucking fantastic body you have." I just looked at him, my anger rising, but not as fast, hard, or high as my arousal. I'd never felt this horny in my life! I knew I was going to do it. That I'd already decided -- I really didn't want to lose the 300 bucks. I just didn't know how far I was willing to go. Maybe I'd already gone too far.

He looked impatient. I reached my fingers into the waist band and shimmied them down. All the while he took pictures, probably six in all, the last with me bent over, my breasts hanging down and my hands at my toes.

"Okay, get going on that vacuuming, only this time, don't get stuck, yeah?" And he turned away to screw the camera onto a tripod. I assumed he had removed the memory card, but I couldn't see where he might have put it.

The rest of the night I was a total nutjob bundle of nerves. With every task, Tim could either watch my breasts jiggle, or I was completely spread open for his pleasure. As we washed the car, it was normal for water to splash, but I thought he was making a special effort to get me wet and soapy. He'd apologize and offer to dry me off, but he never touched me. In fact, the whole night, he had only touched me once, when he pulled me out of the seats.

As the hours wore on, I was getting less self-conscious and more concerned about what the morning would bring. We worked hard - a "platinum" job was excruciatingly detailed, sometimes requiring toothbrushes inside crevices. As was normal, he would stop after each step and take a full round of pictures. I tried to move out of the way, but he insisted I be in the frame. No amount of protesting would appease him, the deadline constantly pushing at us. Every time I relented, making sure to stick out my tongue or look as angry as I felt.

With 5AM rolling around we had finished the initial wax job and were buffing it out. Usually we hand rubbed the finish, but we both knew we'd never get it done in time, so we took out the power buffers, and did the major work that way. Finally, at about 6AM, the sun already poking a few rosy rays on the ceiling of the shop, we stopped. The thing looked great. Not perfect, but pretty darn good. Bill would know it wasn't a platinum job, but the owner probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

I was exhausted physically, but emotionally I was still hyped up. Throughout the night, each time I looked up, I'd see Tim staring at me, his penis at half mast, and I'd get another shot of electricity. With all of the water, he couldn't notice how wet I was making myself, but I was completely twisted about my own arousal and what he was expecting of me.

I was covered in dried sweat, in spite of the various washings he'd subjected me to. He was pretty worked up too, his cutoffs had a growing stain down their back from the night's perspiration.

At 6:30 we had put all of the equipment away, the rags in the washer, and I went to get my things.

"Hold it." He stopped me with a hand signal. "We need to get a final shot with the both of us."

"Tim! Please. Enough. You have dozens of shots of me. I look awful and ...oh fuck it." I was just tired of the constant negotiation. It didn't matter, I wasn't going to win it. He set up the shot, taking his time to wave me one way and the other. Each time he looked through the viewfinder I felt a jolt starting in my pussy and moving up my spine. It was different from when he just stared at me -- as if somehow the camera stripped something away, or maybe revealed even more of me. He set the timer and joined me near the car. Eight times he repeated the process, one for each side and corner of the HumVee. All of the lights were on in the stall at this point and the moisture from the wash water made the air thick and humid.

Waiting between setups I could feel the sweat building up under my arms, between my thighs and under by breasts. I knew my hair and face were a mess. As the minutes wore on I got more and more annoyed and confused: what I'd agreed to, why I was so aroused when he looked through the camera, why he wouldn't stop teasing me and just throw me under him, how I'd expect to stop him from going beyond our deal. I still couldn't quite imagine what I'd have to do to get the photos back.

"Okay," he said, breaking the equipment down, the anticipation evident in his voice. "Finish picking the rags up and let's get out of here!"

He returned the equipment to the office while I did a final site inspection, noticing a spot here, a drip there.

"C'mon, Julie -- it's getting late!"

I walked past him, my annoyance uncensored and slipped on my skirt and leather top. I couldn't find my thong. I put on my boots and grabbed my bag and collar.

"You're coming, right?" He held the door open for me.

I just shrugged and walked past him out the door. I had no idea what was in store for me, but I had been riding the wave all night and this didn't seem like the time to stop.