Since You Asked

(This is my second story, forgot to ask for feedback on the first. Votes are great, but comments are better. Don't be shy, I have thick skin and want to get better at this. Let me know what works and what doesn't. Thanks and enjoy!)

It never fails. I go away for work, and the first night in the hotel room all I do is dream about you, sometimes mundane dreams, just missing you, but most of the time my dreams are of pure sex. I am sure it is a result of all the times we have traveled together and thoroughly enjoyed each other in new places. Or something Freudian like that. Regardless, I always wake up horny and tired. Luckily most of the hotels I stay in are kind enough to leave out small bottles of lotion, and plenty of wash clothes. This last trip began like so many other days on the road. Intense dreams, a glob of lotion, three furious minutes and a weak orgasm that left me even more frustrated than before I started.

For some reason though, last week I decided to share my dream with you by text message after I had done the deed. No details, just the idea- "I miss you, I dreamed about you, and now I am hornier than hell." There was no way in a text message to tell you about the blow-job-in-an-elevator scene that had played in mind's eye as I slept the night before. I just wanted you to know the effect you have on me even from so far away. I closed the message by threatening to take pictures of myself jerking off and then sending them by text message to you. I didn't see the need to tell you I had already rubbed one out, and I didn't really expect you to respond to that message. I was just feeling frustrated and wanted to share that with you. Message sent, it was time to begin another day.

Imagine my surprise when you texted me back a few hours later later saying you never got the pictures, and could I resend them. I wasn't sure what to about that, since there were no pictures to send, but the intensity of the erection I get reading after your message left little doubt that I was going to have to pleasure myself again. I figured what the hell, if I am going to do it I might as well actually send you pictures of me in the act as requested. I wasn't sure how to go about doing that at first, but then I remember the built in web cam on the Dell- it also takes still images.

I set the stage carefully, the laptop positioned just so, the lighting perfect to take good pictures (this took a bit of work). I got naked and made myself comfortable in the overstuffed chair in my room, the laptop on a small table between my legs, my feet propped up on either side of it. I set the camera to take three snapshots and the timer for 10 seconds, but I didn't immediately trigger the camera, despite the raging hard on waving around between my legs as I set things up I was determined to do this right. I applied some lotion began to slowly make love to myself.

I hadn't realized I'd be able to see myself jerk off on the screen, but of course it is a video camera. The angle of the small lens and the closeness of the laptop made my hard-on look huge on the screen. I could see my wedding band clearly as my hand slid up and down my slick shaft. I thought you'd like that touch. I slid forward a bit and spread my legs a little further and my balls settled nicely on the cushion of the chair. They looked lonely there, so I squirted some lotion on them as well and rubbed and tugged at my sac, just like you do when you are taking me into your mouth. Seeing this on screen and thinking of you made me twitch, my cock felt alive in my hand, harder and longer than it has in a solo session in a long time.

I left one hand at the base, fingers caressing my nuts, with the skin of my shaft drawn tight while the other hand circled my mushroom head. I squeezed and twisted my hand in a circle, applying friction to just the tip. My thumb flicked across the slit as a bit of pre-cum glistened there. I was mesmerized by the sight of this on the screen, and the intensity of the feeling in my groin (it had spread well beyond my hard-on at this point) had me almost gasping. I forgot all about the pictures. The hand on my balls, seemingly of its own accord, slowly traveled up my body and began to twist and pinch my nipples. The other hand, meanwhile, slowly glided up and down, barely making contact with the sides of my shaft.

I lost all track of time; I was in a deeper state of self-arousal then I can ever remember. My entire body was tingling. I knew this wouldn't last much longer. I forced my hand away from my cock (and I really did have to concentrate here and force it away) and with both hands began to massage my inner thighs. I'd never done this to myself before. Fankly I usually just beat off as fast as I can and move on. This was new, different. Inspired by your text and wanting to please you I found myself doing things that you usually do to me. Watching it on the monitor added a strange feeling of voyeurism- I could feel myself doing it while I imagined it was you and watched it like there was a third person involved. This couldn't go on, and I knew it. I was now literally trembling and making small gasping sounds as my hips bucked off the chair. My body was urging my hand to fuck me more, harder and faster. Somehow the hand resisted.

I watched the monitor as my left hand oh-so-slowly went back to my cock, as if to tease me. It gripped firmly as far down the shaft as possible. My right hand went back to my nipples. As the left began to slowly move up and down the right rubbed and pinched in the same tempo. I could feel my orgasm building. Then I remembered the camera. For a split second I almost didn't take the pictures, I was afraid to break the spell. Then I thought of you opening the message and your reaction and my right hand darted down and hit the mouse button, triggering the timer. There was no way the left hand was going to stop now. A red 10 appeared on the screen, followed by nine, then eight. It took every ounce of power I had to not blow my load right there. I was just too aroused. As the numbers ticked down I was holding my breath, fighting to last just a few seconds more. With one second left I thought I had lost the fight as my orgasm washed over me in a wave of heat and pleasure.

The first shot landed squarely on my left nipple, so recently abandoned by fingers it was still very sensitive and the cum seemed to sear into my skin. I could smell it, it was so close to hitting me in the face. The second shot landed on my belly, the third in my pubes. I was trembling and gasping, my toes curled and uncurled spasmodically. More cum leaked out of the tip of my still hard meat and back over my hand as I slowly, gently, worked my hand up and down. I felt like all my bones had melted as I sagged back into the chair. Then I remembered the pictures.

There were three of them, as expected. In the first my hand was a blur, low on my cock, which was red and straining. In the second what looks like a jet of cum was shooting straight out of me- this had to be the one that landed on my chest. I was stunned- I could not believe that shot. I'd seen myself cum countless times as I whacked off, but always looking down. Occasionally I'd manage to spurt a bit, usually it just dribbled out into the washcloth or tissue or whatever. For the first time I saw the bottom of my shaft as I was cumming, the flared head a deep red with a white spurt of jism literally shooting from the top. This was a porn star quality shot. I'm not sure how long I stared at it, but I swear I started to get aroused again. The third picture was only of my ass cheeks and the chair, I must have rocketed out of the seat as I came. I can't remember. I deleted that one, and saved the other two.

As the cum on my chest slid down to join the sticky mess in my happy trail and pubes I tried to remember what time you said you had a meeting that day. I wanted to make sure these arrived at a time that I knew you'd look at them, and at which you couldn't get away to relieve yourself if you were so inclined. Mean of me, I know, but I was hoping that when you had a chance to get some relief it would be at least half as good as mine just was. Anticipation of a thing is often better than the thing itself, to paraphrase an expression I once read. I glanced at the clock and realized I was in luck.

I emailed the pictures to your phone and waited for you to text me back; wondering how I was going to top this. There were still a few days until the conference ended and I could be with you, but I realized that maybe now those days might not be as frustrating as I had thought they were going to be.

And that, my dear, is how I manged to get the "action shot" as you call it that resulted in us fucking like teenagers two minutes after I walked in the door on Friday night. Since you asked.