My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 02

"Aren't you worried about what I'm going to do with the pictures?" He was smiling at me in a teasing sort of way. The fantasy of guys like him jacking off to me made me squirm a little more. I shifted in my chair.

"I think it's really rude that you took them." A strong offense is the best defense. "In fact, I think it's rude you made me work naked..."

"Bullshit, and you know it."

I stopped, momentarily confused again by his blunt interruption.

He walked towards me, his cock even stiffer than before. It didn't wag quite so much, more like a thick baton. I tried to push away from the table but I was stuck in the chair and only succeeded in making a fool of myself. "No. Stop. What are you doing?"

He put his hands around my upper arms and gently pulled me out of the chair, tipping it over backwards. "I'll prove it to you; you like being stripped naked and you like it when you are exposed. You are exhibitionist."

"Stop. Tim. Please. No." I wasn't sure what I was protesting -- his handling me, the thought he might be right, or \where this was leading. I really didn't want to lose my virginity this way, and I was pretty certain I wouldn't stop him if he pushed. Some part of me really believed what he was suggesting: I was still here, I hadn't walked out of the shop, I had flashed him. Maybe I really did get off on exposing myself. I tried to resist, but only a little. I was strong enough to give him a run for his money, even though he was stronger. It wasn't because of his advantage that I didn't protest more: the feeling growing again in my belly was harder to overcome -- it was distracting and...disturbing.

He pushed me backwards up against the counter, facing the room; lack of sleep, the growing electricity in between my legs and a morbid curiosity fogged my judgment. Even though he held both my wrists in his right hand, I knew I would have been just as compliant if he simply told me what to do. With his left, he pulled my skirt down below my knees, pushing them the rest of the way to the floor with his foot.

"Put your hands on the counter." He said it quietly, without any menace; he let go of my wrists and I did as he asked, just as I had figured. The sensible part of my brain was probably screaming at me, but it was locked outside, behind a fog of sexual tension. I felt it leave my body to watch the scene -- like a demon perched in the top corner of the kitchen ceiling, smiling wickedly, licking its lips waiting to see what I would do. Watching myself as if in a trance, I moved my hands to grip the counter, my elbows pointing backward, and saw his hands unbutton my top, pushing it off my shoulders. He slid it down, holding my arms in a leather vice.

His fingers returned to my front, tracing a ticklish trail from my chin, down my neck, over my nipples, where they danced for a moment, raising them, puckering my skin around them, and down to my belly button to my pubic hair. He looked at my face and smiled.

My eyes darted to my reflection in a window. No need for an imagined demon -- I was on display: completely naked, my legs spread open, my bush under his fingers, my breasts exposed. The heat grew, along with a tightening of my stomach and I knew what he was saying was true.

"Wait right there." He turned and I stared at his erection, now definitely stiffer, and then his tight buns. I licked my lips and stared at myself; What are you doing? I mouthed the words to the reflection, looking down at my exposed pussy and feeling it pulse in response.

He returned with a tripod and a video camera.

"Shit, no." I let out a moan. At the same time, I felt a rush of excitement and fear. I remember even now the feelings I had of being completely exposed, of holding the counter of my own free will, of my anticipation of being taped, the thought of where those images would end up, and the image of lots of young men and boys jacking off to me. My struggle between fear and exhilaration would continue for months before I came to grips with how much I truly enjoyed giving others pleasure just from showing off my body.

"Stay there. You know you want this on tape. I bet you've never seen your own orgasm, have you?"

It was a safe bet and he knew it. I was struggling with myself: my hands wanted desperately to cover myself; my groin kept urging me to see where this was going. My groin kept winning. I moaned a weak protest and looked at the face in the window -- I didn't recognize it -- a woman's face, filled with an emotion I had never seen. Lust?

The red light came on and he advanced towards me, his penis' head a darker purple and the shaft thicker. He stood to the side, in profile, letting the camera catch my reaction as he continued his caresses from where he'd left off.

Within moments, he had slid his third finger between my lips. I was so wet, from my cum, from his saliva, it just slipped right across the opening, coming to rest on the tight skin between my vagina and my anus. I shifted, thinking how close he was to pushing it into my ass. Then he pulled it back a little and with a curl to the first knuckle just starting pushing it into me.

I stared at the red eye of the camera staring back at me, and I could see all of the viewers stroking themselves, their cum spurting from their cocks as they watched him finger fuck me. Out came his finger, then in, oozing through me. Over and over, every once in a while stopping to vibrate my clit. Then out again. This time, a second finger, and I moaned a little, rolling my eyes under my lids. Then three fingers and I gripped the counter with my hands, my knuckles whitening, the feeling was so intense. I pushed my pelvis forward, trying to grab his fingers more tightly. I could only imagine the scene the camera captured.

When his lips touched my nipple I opened my eyes and knew I didn't have long before I came. His fingers moved in and out, faster than before, and I saw my whole body vibrating, my breasts jiggling with each movement, my butt pushing into and away from the counter edge. I looked at the image of the woman in the window -- her face flush, her mouth open, her eyes...I couldn't see my eyes, but I imagined them hungering for more. The sounds of his fingers squishing into me, and my grunts only made me more self-conscious; my self-consciousness increased my arousal. In no time I had my second orgasm, the camera catching my moans. I pulled my hands away to grab his head and hold it against my breast, my knees beginning to buckle.

We stood there for what seemed like an eternity. I could feel my heart beating against his lips on my breast. He kept his fingers in me, gently moving them, careful to avoid my clit. I opened my eyes and stared at the camera, now that I had cum and it was subsiding. Only now, as I was coming down, did the worry of what he would do with the tape start to creep in.

I yawned. The intensity of the sensations, of the situation I was in, the continued presence of the camera were no match for the prior 12 hours. I was exhausted.

"Hey," he looked up at me. "You must be wiped out. Let's get you to bed."

I started to protest, even as he led me to the bedroom. I really didn't want to be here anymore.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you. I can see you've had enough." He gently rubbed my back, his hand traveling to the top of my butt, sending soft jolts through me. I looked down and saw his prick was still hard, wagging against my hip.

"I don't want to..."

"What...you don't want to what?"

"I don't want to...fuck you." I said quietly, even as he laid me on his sheets. They smelled clean, with a faint scent of him. I was so tired I couldn't move.

"It's okay. I don't want to fuck you...."

"What?!" I could barely stay awake, but I knew he had just insulted me.

"What, what? You just said you didn't want to do it...so we won't. Besides, when we do it for the first time, it will be on tape."

I woke up early in the afternoon. The sun was shining on my face and I realized I had slept uncovered. He was sleeping next to me, snoring lightly. I had to pee really bad, and I didn't want to sleep anymore, even though I was still exhausted, 'cause I knew I'd be up all night.

I peeked into the bedroom after flushing the toilet and saw he was still fast asleep. My skirt and top were bunched up on the floor of the kitchen where he'd dropped them. Looking across the cozy living room, its curtains drawn, and seeing all of the other windows faced into his small backyard I decided not bother putting on any clothes -- something had already clicked, a new found freedom. The echo of his fingers and tongue, and the feeling of his cock in my mouth, kept a low level flame burning inside.

I sat on his couch and flipped open his laptop.

"I see you're admiring my collection..."

I jumped at his voice. I had been so into his digital photo collection I didn't hear him get up or walk in. "I wouldn't say admiring." I responded without letting on I had been startled.

"Well, you're looking pretty engrossed."

"Grossed out is more like it. Friend of yours?" He was standing next to me by this time, his penis nearly brushed my ear. I could smell his musk and it started that electricity in the pit of my stomach.

The photograph on the screen was a close up of a woman's labia, peeled apart with clips held taught by nylon ropes. She was shaved and recently had been fucked, or at least masturbated--her inner lips were inflamed and her entire region was bright red.

"Marcia. It was her idea."

I flipped to the next shot. Pulled back, the woman, Marcia, was now visible in the frame: spread eagled, naked, ankles and wrists tied to the bed, the clips on her labia a small detail in an otherwise overwhelming image. Her face looking away from the camera, eyes closed, mouth in a grimace -- pain or pleasure? It didn't seem to matter. If I hadn't seen dozens of similar shots I would have screwed up my face. Instead, I just calmly flipped to the next snapshot.

I looked at the clock and realized I had been sitting here looking at his photographs for almost two hours and I hadn't been through even half of the folders.

"Was it all of these other women's ideas as well?" I waved my hand at the screen.

He smiled a little bashfully. "Actually, she was one of the first. I learned a lot about some women's fantasies from her."

My crotch pulsed a little at the thought. I had seen so many different naked women, in so many positions his statement stopped me. Tied up, in the act of stripping, sucking cocks (his I assumed), outside, inside, on the bed, on the counters, fucked in their ass, fucked with dildos, cocks, with fists. Some had nearly made me choke at the thought; others stirred something in me I didn't think was possible.

"Here," he reached onto a nearby bookshelf, opened a small wooden box and offered me a joint. "Light it up and we can talk about it."

I hesitated...not because I don't partake -- pot and I are long-time friends, but I still wasn't certain where I wanted this to head. I suppose I could have left his house just as soon as I woke up. The likelihood of getting any of the images back from him seemed remote after looking at his 'collection.' But I was young, naïve and hopeful we could strike some kind of deal. All of this as I reached for the joint and lit it up. It was strong.

"What do you do with them?" I handed him the joint and waved at the screen, the smoke muffling my voice.

"Oh...they come and go. I'm not seeing anyone at the moment, but I keep in touch; if not, they keep in touch with me."

I looked up. He was a million miles away, his face looking at the screen but not focused, sucking in the smoke. His penis was starting to harden. He had misunderstood my question.

"The photos, dick-head. What do you do with all of these?" I could only imagine where they ended up.

He smiled timidly, handing me back the J. "Oh! Yeah. They bring in quite a bit of dough, actually. You're looking at about $90K a year there."