The Videographer

On another day, she might have wanted a pause for recuperation but not this time. She was on heat in a way she hadn't known with John since the early days of their marriage. Whether it was the presence of another woman and a camera she couldn't tell. All she knew was that her mind was demanding more of the same and her body was able to deliver. She said, "Let's change again. From behind. I'm still very wet. Are you OK?"

"I can't believe it - I don't think I've ever been so hard." He asked his wife to keel, legs apart, cunt lips clearly visible. Beryl did so, burying her head in a pillow and clutching the sheets with both hands for stability. Standing behind her, he stroked his cock three times quite unnecessarily, parted her cheeks with one hand and with the other pointed his cock between the gleaming folds. There was no need any longer for a period of acclimatisation; hands grasping Beryl's hips, his eyes closed in concentration, John began to fuck once more. With each thrust, his arse and thigh muscles drove him into her.

As Beryl spread herself to accommodate him to the full, something wonderful happened. They achieved that rare trancelike state where reality and time seem suspended. Instinctively, they moved together in exquisite harmony, her cunt bathing his cock in her copious juices, sustaining him in the ultimate nirvana of imminent orgasm with no danger of it occurring until he was prepared to let his mind instruct his loins. Beryl similarly lingered on the precipice, permanently ready yet permanently in control. In the darkness of the pillow she conjured images of the steady thrust and withdrawal from behind her, his pelvis meshing with her buttocks and parting again. Sometimes, too, she could hear the sounds made by her inner wetness.

After what seemed a long while John opened his eyes. He found he was looking straight at Zoe. The camera lay on its side on the bed. She had removed her shirt and, braless, was kneading the nipples of her small, pointed tits. Their eyes met. Both knew a bridge had been crossed.

The effect was to cause John to miss a stroke in his hitherto metronomic stoking of his wife's hole. Sensing something was happening but unsure what it might be, Beryl lifted her head from the pillow. Eighteen inches away, Zoe was deeply into her self-stimulation. The videographer gasped and let her hands fall. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry. That shouldn't have happened, but you were so ... so ... I just got carried away. It was so wonderful."

Perhaps half a minute passed in stunned silence. Then Beryl said, "Zoe, you said you only join in if you're invited." She turned to look at her husband who was nursing a hard, glistening cock that had slipped from its succulent nest. "I don't think I could stop now if I wanted to. And I don't want to. But how about you?"

"Two women, one man?" John's smile was its own answer. "If you want it, pet, I'll not say no. But what about the video?"

"The main camera's still running," said Zoe. "It won't get everything, but this other one is fairly easy to use. Maybe you could have a go if ... if Beryl and I are occupied." She gave him a quick demonstration and John peered hopefully through the viewfinder while Zoe kicked off her shoes and stripped off her jeans. Pale blue flimsy knickers followed. When Beryl threw herself on to her back, pushed the pillow under her bottom and opened her legs, the invitation couldn't have been more blatant.

"Do you mind if I start with your tits?" Zoe asked. "So much nicer than mine." Kneeling at Beryl's side, she put her head down and began to lick and suckle. When Beryl, missing John's cock, sought to maintain her arousal by fingering herself, Zoe understood immediately. Without interrupting her attention to the now protruding nipples, she replaced her partner's hand with her own. Beryl sighed and began to wriggle contentedly under the double friction. For someone experiencing another woman for the first time at the age of forty-seven, John thought, she needed no tuition. He aimed the camera, pressed the button and hoped for the best. Whatever Zoe was doing, he realised, was having a devastating effect. Beryl's arse began to lift from the pillow, meeting Zoe's expert ministration. In close-up, John saw that she was alternately giving Beryl a two-finger fuck and then titillating her arsehole. Something else new and not unwelcome. "Oh, Zoe," she cried, "that's so good. Like that. Yes, there." Her arse bucked again, wrecking the arrangement of the picture in John's electronic eye. He took the opportunity to switch off for a while and sit back stroking his erection while the two women urged each other on.

"Shall I go down on you?" Zoe asked eventually.

"If I can do you at the same time."

They arranged themselves in a sixty-nine, Zoe on top. Beryl, now so on heat she had almost forgotten her husband was watching everything from close quarters, reached her arms round Zoe's bottom, used her fingers to open the cunt lips until the clitoris rose into view, and applied her tongue. John listened to the slurping sounds, the sighs and moans, the quiet words of encouragement and approval, and wondered when his turn would come. It arrived when the women exchanged positions.

Zoe was now on top. John perched on the bed, filming from behind but getting more and more shaky as the women became more and more animated. His own arousal contributed to a decision to abandon filming altogether. Hopefully there would be enough for the video. John couldn't help himself. He had to join in.

First, he fondled Zoe's arse cheeks as they rose and fell in response to his wife's tonguing. His finger lingered at the tight little aperture. Zoe pressed back against him. It was good but John wanted more. Having established that Beryl was working the clitoris, he slid his fingers into a cunt already flooded with desire. When he began to pump, Zoe yelped with delight. Beryl disengaged herself to discover what was happening. She saw John with two fingers of one hand giving Zoe's cunt a thorough work-out while using his other hand to massage his cock. "Darling," she said, "you can fuck her if you like."

"Is that all right with Zoe?"

"My God, yes." cried the videographer. "It's what I've been wanting. Fuck me. Give it to me like you were doing Beryl. And don't stop till you come."

He nudged the two women a little closer to the edge of the bed. He lifted Zoe's arse slightly, though making sure she was still in contact with Beryl's tongue. Unable to contain his impatience, he took one last look and then drove his cock into Zoe's cunt until it was buried, his balls hard against her.

"That's good. That's what I need. Now fuck. Do it hard. Faster if you can." Zoe had lost all restraint. "Can you put a finger in my arse? Yes, like that. But don't lose contact - come on, John." Their combined efforts, John, Zoe, Beryl, grew wilder, gripped all three by a frenzy of lust that demanded to be satisfied. Zoe's words were coming in gasps. "John - Beryl's getting close. Don't hold back. Just fuck me." He drove into her, faster, harder, his balls sending messages through his shaft that this couldn't go on much longer. This, thought John, was a woman whom he had never set eyes on until she came to his front door less than two hours ago and here she was riding his cock to glory. He heard Beryl's voice. "Go on, darling, fuck her like she says. I'm nearly - "

The rest was lost in a long-drawn wail of sheer ecstasy as the orgasm wracked Beryl's body. It triggered a shuddering response from Zoe before John, too, was overwhelmed. Spunk spurted into the grasping cunt, spattered against the inner walls. Still partly hard, he withdrew and watched gobbets of the pearly liquid settle on Zoe's arse and dribble slowly down.

It was over. Not what they had expected. A thousand times better, they told Zoe as they all began to recover. They took turns in the shower, Beryl and Zoe together with more caressing, John last. When he emerged, Zoe had packed away her gear and was preparing to leave.

"What about your fee?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I deserve one."

"Oh, yes you do." Beryl said. "I think we'll want a return visit."

"In that case, I'll do the editing and bring it with me. If you're satisfied, you can pay me then."

After she had gone, they found she had left a business card on the dressing table. It just said: Z Personal videographer and gave an e-mail address with which they were to become increasingly familiar in the months ahead.