The Cameraman Gets Lucky

I guess I sort of started this whole thing one summer several years ago when I sexted my wife for the first time. She was clothes shopping, Kim and Cassie were playing soccer with friends, and I was batchin' it: a beer in one hand, a slice of pizza in the other, Angels baseball on the radio, sunning by the pool. I don't know what possessed me but I got naked, picked up my phone, took a video of myself jacking off and cumming into my thatch of pubic hair, then sent it with a text that simply said "NSFW" with a leery faced emoji. I took a dip in the pool. When I got out I saw she'd replied with an OMG emoji and an attached video of her naked in the changing room at Misti's, a fashion boutique on Balboa Island, playing with her stiff brown nipples and feverishly fingering her clit. When she got home we laughed and talked about it after the girls were in bed. We knew we'd been really naughty that day but it had been fun. We knew then that it wouldn't be a one-off but had no idea where it would lead. The sex that night was incredible; we talked about how erotic it had all been as we thrashed around on the bed like two rutting goats.

It progressed. We bought a video camera. I took some of her fingering herself in the bathtub or seductively soaping her nipples as she showered. Understand, Ann has the body of Brittany Spears and the laughing eyes, the innocent smile of Claire Danes. She keeps her strawberry blonde hair in a French braid that falls to the small of her back. She used to braid it herself- how I don't know- but now Kimberly does it most of the time.

I took some of her sucking my cock, those soft green eyes looking up into the camera with deep contentment. She took some of me in the shower, teasing myself to an erection moments before she joined me there. The video picked up the sound of her intense moaning as my tongue teased her cleanly shaven pussy while hot water washed down my back. There was the sound of our wet flesh slapping, the close-up of my engorged cock sliding between the petals of her plump pink flesh. We'd watch the videos that night, after the girls were asleep. We'd do a little critique about where my tongue should have been in this shot or if she should have turned a little bit to the left to show off her tits to more effect. Then we'd fuck. It was like being on sexual crack.

As New Year's Day crossed the calendar we went through resolutions: cut down on carbs, watch less television, do a regular Friday date night. Then she brought it up: a resolution to have someone take professional videos of us having sex- on Valentine's Day. I immediately agreed: it would be fun! For us, Valentine's Day was always a double loving special day. We'd gotten married on Valentine's Day, so that year we would celebrate our fifteenth anniversary by making passionate love as we played the starring roles in our own very private porn video!

The question was: where do you even begin to look for a person to take such a video? We looked at Craig's List but it seemed creepy, full of lecherous old men. Nor was there any way could we ask our friends: we were both in education and even asking such a question would be scandalous for both of us. So we did a Google search: "How do you find a videographer who shoots porn?" Surprise! There were thousands of places to look. We had to narrow our search down to someone in the greater Los Angeles/Orange County area, who had done this before, who had a portfolio... the search questions got narrower and narrower. We honed the sites down to three. All were producers: they wanted us to come to them. We didn't want that. The receptionist for one of them told us about Carl, one of the regular videographers there who did gigs on the side. She said to call him any day, but it had to be after six. What she didn't tell us was that Carl was also an actor when he wasn't behind the camera. So anyhow, that's how we found Carl.

He had a web page with about a dozen one and two minute clips of his work, ranging from gay, to lesbian, to threesomes, to interracial, to couples like us. All of them were professional grade productions: controlled movement, nothing out of focus, no sudden shifts to the floor, empty shoes or some random dresser drawers; smooth transitions from scene to scene, soft intimate lighting, and a variety of music styles quietly playing in the background: classical, cool jazz, or soft rock, but always background. His audio caught the slapping of thigh against thigh, the wet whisper of a man's cock sliding in and out of a woman's pussy, every moan, every whisper, every cry. That was exactly what we wanted.

We FaceTimed him together that night and he actually answered.

"Carl here..." he said tersely.

"Hi, Carl, I'm Michael and my wife here is Ann, and Isabelle the receptionist at..."

He warmed up and smiled. "Hey, how you two doin'?" he asked as if we were old friends about to catch up on recent gossip. "Yeah, she said you might be givin' me a call. Have you checked out my webpage yet?" He was hispanic, friendly, quite handsome, with an ever so slight 3rd-generation hispanic accent.

"Yes we have," we both answered, blushing, "and we think we'd like to have you, well, ah... to, ah..."

"... shoot a little private porn for the two of you, right?"

That broke the ice. We all laughed, the nerves gone. After a little more small talk, we started to put it all together."We want it shot at our house."

"Sounds good to me; that's what I do," he replied. "Are you at your home now?" We nodded. "Can you give me a little tour?"

So we walked him through the living room, past the kitchen to the patio and pool, and finally to our bedroom.

"Have you thought about what you want to do? I mean, it can be like a little story- seduction in the living room, maybe a little shower scene, then to the bedroom. Or, just start in the bedroom and screw until you get to the money shot."

We hadn't thought about that.

"Most people don't want a lot of dialogue but you can come up with a script if you like: naughty neighbors, Craig's List pick-up, slut wife, hot wife cuckold. It's up to you. And it looks like you're going to need some better lighting if you want it to look good."

We hadn't thought about any of that, either.

"Can we meet with you so you can walk us through all of this?" Ann asked. "Our anniversary is on Valentines Day so we'd like it done the day before, on Saturday," I added.

"Well, I do have that Saturday evening open but Ann, you're right, we do need to get together: contracts, 2257 compliance, all that stuff. I'd like to meet at your house if that's possible, so I can work out lighting and other technical stuff."

We met on the following Tuesday. He was as friendly in person as he had been on FaceTime, and just as good-looking. He was clean shaven with short dark hair, his body well toned, and in his early to mid-20's. He'd gone to film school and had worked in 'the adult film industry' since graduation. It paid better than straight, he said.

Ann and I had talked over the weekend and decided on the seduction scene, unscripted, beginning on the couch and moving directly to the bedroom. He took measurements and photos of all the spaces, photometer readings from various places, and pictures of our driver's licenses as proof we were over 18; in fact, it was coming up on 36 for both of us. He told us it would be a couple of hundred for the lighting, a hundred for setting it up, and $250 an hour, cash, for him. He would also edit if we wanted him to, but it would be extra. We agreed to the shoot using our disk, no editing, then gave him a $300 retainer. We talked with him a few time after that about some of the details, but for the most part all we could do was wait through a few more Saturdays.

We knew he would be at our place around 3:00 that Saturday to set up lighting; shooting would start around five so we had a busy Saturday morning ahead of us. The girls would spend the weekend with Ann's parents in Capistrano, who would bring them back to the house Sunday afternoon. We left the house at 10, got there at 11, left a little after noon, got stuck in some beach traffic and didn't make it back until a little before 2.

"So what are you two doing for your anniversary that you're like cats on a frying pan?" her mom queried as we were leaving.

We laughed. I guess our frayed nerves showed. "Just a romantic day, mom, probably breakfast in bed, maybe catch a movie," Ann replied, blushing. I just turned and walked to the car laughing to myself. Catch a movie. Very funny.

I poured us each a glass of wine and, about the time the butterflies in our stomachs had quieted down, Carl pulled up and started pulling camera and lighting gear out of the back of his SUV. I'd expected, somehow, that a big panel truck would lower a ramp and dollies full of lights, production panels, and huge cameras would come piling out, but it was Carl with a pair of large suitcases and a video camera slung over his shoulder.

He was wearing khaki shorts and a sky blue tee shirt. His muscles rippled as walked. "You guys ready for this?" he smiled as he carried his things into the house.

Ann was in the bathroom putting on makeup, battling nerves, and braiding her hair. She told me that morning she wouldn't be wearing a bra- I liked that. Her breasts were beautifully firm and full; she didn't need one. And that she'd bought a pair of tiny black bikini underwear just for me to take off. I liked that, too. Even though it was the dead of winter, she was in an airy blue floral cotton front-buttoning summer dress, low cut with spaghetti straps. In California you can get by with that: it was 78 and sunny outside. And to say she looked sexy would be an understatement.

Carl caught sight of her leaning over the sink putting on eye liner. Her firm full breasts pressed up against the top of the dress, wanting to pour out like peaches from a basket. "She is really beautiful, and Jesus, what a great fucking body!" he whispered to me as he set a light pot on the floor and turned it on. I'm sure it was supposed to be a complement; he wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. But to hear her described that way, like meat in a locker, by a stranger? Not cool I thought to myself, not cool. He moved on with his tasks: another light pot, a tiny, nearly invisible microphone above the headboard, like the one he had installed on the living room couch, sound and light checks. "What kind of work you guys do?" he asked, continuing to make small talk as he set still another light pot on the floor, turned it on, and made some adjustments after checking the photometer.

"We're both teachers. I teach high school history, she does junior high math and science."

He laughed out loud. "Bet all the boys love her class, man, gives-'em something to jerk off to at night," he said. Cringeworthy. That wasn't a picture I wanted in my brain: prepubescent boys jacking off with visions of Ann floating through their dreamland. He paused, then added "... and I bet the girls ogle over yours, too, and high school girls?... well, they like to play for real. You're a hot looking couple; you'd both do well in the industry."

The Industry. Porn. We knew we were an attractive couple but, of course, we'd never thought of that; it had never entered our minds. The idea of another man being filmed fucking my wife? Or me fucking another woman? Not a chance. Other than some heavy petting- feeling up, a hand job, maybe some finger banging in high school- neither of us had ever had sex of any kind with anyone else; we'd both been virgins when we met as college freshmen and had gotten married at the end of our junior year.

He went around the house and did one last lighting and sound check, turned on some solo classical piano for background, and reached for his camera. "Michael, gimme the disk; I'm ready to go whenever you guys are." I handed it to him. He loaded it. We were early. 4:45. Game time.

She came out of the bathroom and sashayed down the hallway into the living room. It was decorated it with cupids, flowers, and red and pink hearts. It looked cute. When she sat on one end of the couch, Carl called "Action".

I walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. Carl silently wandered to the other side of the room, by the hallway. We were both trying to beat back the butterflies. I tucked a stray hair behind her ear and pulled her close to me. Whatever butterflies had been there disappeared the moment we kissed. It was like the first time we kissed before we screwed in my apartment for the first time some 16 or so years before.

I pulled one spaghetti strap over her shoulder, then the other. She unbuckled my belt. I unbuttoned one button, then the next, then the next down to her navel. Her beautiful breasts slid between the collapsing walls of cloth into the palms of my hands. I kissed down her neck, down the cleavage, down to a luscious brown nipple. When I bit it I could feel her shudder. When I sucked the entire breast into my mouth, a moan came from deep inside.

She managed to unzip my pants. Her hand stroked my erection through my underwear then slid over the top band to touch the firm flesh directly with her fingertips. It was my turn to gasp and moan.

She broke our prolonged kiss. "I want to get your clothes off," she said. She stood up, her dress falling around her ankles. She bent over, shimmying my pants and underwear down my thighs as I hoisted myself up to accommodate. I pulled her over to me, pulled down the dripping wet panties, and licked the juice from between her swollen labia. She sat down on my throbbing cock and guided it into her wet pussy, both of us moaning as the shaft went deeper and deeper into her luscious body. Less than five minutes into filming and we were both naked and fucking. She rode my cock. I cupped her breasts, played with the nipples, kissed them, sucked them. We'd forgotten Carl was even in the room.

"Let's go into the bedroom where I can have my way with you, lover," I whispered in her ear as I nibbled a lobe.

"Gimme a minute baby, I'm about ready to cum." She started riding me faster and faster, her breath coming in frantic gasps, then she rode the bolt of lightning coursing through her loins. "Oh please Michael keep it up your so deep baby so deep I'm cumming I'm cumming on your cock oh god oh jeeesus, fuuuuuuck." she babbled. She collapsed on top of me, her body quivering, her cries coming from a place deep inside her

Her kisses smothered my face, her tongue frantically seeking mine. "Oh my god that was too good baby, the best ever, really." Her hips kept gyrating into mine. "God, I just can't get enough of your cock."

I was still a long way away from an orgasm so I let her pump until the lightning bolts receded to the background. "Now let's go to the bedroom. I want to fuck you hard and deep." There may have been a little playing to the camera with the language, but the orgasm she'd just experienced was no pretend. It was one of the most intense ever.

When she stood up, clear juices dripped down her leg. The couch was damp. She had squirted for the first time.

"End scene one at 12:06. And that was incredible, Ann, really incredible. You shot a load all over everything!" Carl's voice startled us. "How you didn't shoot your load, Michael, with her riding you that hard, squirting... god, that was hot! Incredibly hot!"

"Yeah," she replied calmly, trying to keep her voice even while her body still shook with passion. She sauntered into the bedroom on unsteady legs. "That was the best fuck ever! Michael, that was fucking incredible! And you still haven't cum yet?" She mockingly wiped her brow with a whosh,

She looked down at my erection."Oh my god, so there's more to come!?" I nodded with a lecherous grin on my face. Our hormones were raging. We were both high as kites on the excitement and sex, fueled by the man in the room with a camera. "Can you get me a towel or something Michael, so I can clean myself up a little bit? I'm a mess!" I went into the bathroom, wiped myself clean, and brought her a towel.

Carl had positioned himself between the dresser and the closet. "Michael, I got all the cowboy on the couch so do her missionary, then doggie. Cum in her doggie, it makes for a great money shot." I nodded. "And Ann, it looks like Mike could use a little fluffing. Action!"

She sat up on the edge of the bed, pulled me forward by my thighs, and took my slightly flagging cock in her mouth. It didn't take much, a little tongue tease with half a dozen strokes and I was rock hard again. She rolled onto her back and spread her legs lewdly. Her nipples were hard, her breasts heaving. I mounted between her legs, helmet slowly spreading the swollen pink petals leading to her sopping wet vagina. A quick thrust from her hips and my cock was buried up to my balls. Our bodies moved in well learned synchrony, slowly building for what we knew would be our moment of blissful nirvana.

She pulled me down, my chest against her breasts. "Michael, how are you feeling right now, knowing there's someone in the room watching us fuck, filming us having sex."

"You know, I know he's here and I know he taking video, and I want to watch those videos knowing that it's us fucking like rabbits, but you know what? He's not here, it's just us. And I haven't been this turned on since..."

"... since Sedona?" I smiled back at her. We'd gone camping there right after graduation, got naked one morning before breakfast and had made love while wading in the water of a waist-deep clear mountain stream. With campers all around us. We got so turned on thinking there were probably people on the shore watching us fuck. We'd done it in San Diego at Black's Beach a few times, but it wasn't the same there: other people were doing it, too. It was fun but didn't have the same excitement. Sedona was fun. Sedona was exciting.

I could feel the electricity moving from my brain to my loins. I started thinking about the money shot. "Ann, roll over onto your tummy, honey. I'm about ready to fill your pussy." It was funny, really. We never talked so explicitly in bed before, so carnal, so lusty, so lewd, so uninhibited. Not that we were prudes or anything; we really enjoyed sex a lot. But knowing we were being recorded? Well, any inhibitions were gone.

She rolled over, got on her knees and guided the head of my twitching cock back into her slick fuck hole. I pulled at her braid like reins, her head pulled back, taut breasts thrust upward into firm peaks. I cupped one in my hand. A few strokes and I could feel it coming. A tingle that builds from just below the fleshy helmet and spreads up through the stomach and spine. The tension in the thighs, the loins, the toes. The need for a primal scream. Then the snap, the pulse, the release of nerve and muscle, the blinding throb behind my eyes as semen courses through my stiff cock into the deepest part of Ann's beautiful body. I slammed myself hard against her thighs, pulled her hard onto my throbbing shaft and filled her with my thick spunk. A few more violent thrusts and I collapsed onto her back. She crumpled beneath me heaving with spent passion.

"End of scene two, 7:42. You two still have about 40 minutes." Once again, as we had continued in our lovemaking, we'd lost our awareness of him, of time in general. So when he spoke, it kind of popped the intimate little bubble we had just built around ourselves.

He had to be laughing quietly to himself, though, I'm sure: so unprofessional. Here was Ann collapsed onto her stomach, an absolute dishrag. And I was totally spent, my load now dripping in creamy globs onto the sheets, all in about 20 minutes.

I rolled over onto my back. Carl went in for his money shot- thick white cum dripping slowly out of Ann's pussy. "Push a little Ann, let's see what Michael left behind." She spread her legs and laughed as the spunk oozed out.