0 comments/ 18402 views/ 2 favorites The Videotape By: Decadent Switch "So was he big, then?" The five words could have been innocuous enough, but there was something about the tone that made Ian pause before pushing open the door. "I'll show you in a minute. I got out the camcorder." That was Arrella. He had been staying with her and her two friends for just over a week now. The first voice had sounded like Jill's. "You taped him? Jacking off in the shower?" Oh. That was it. Ian froze up totally and waited for the ground to swallow him up - it didn't happen. "Well, at first I was just taping him taking a shower. I mean… he looked so hot. You can't say you haven't thought of how he'd look all wet and soapy." "Well, no, but there are limits. I mean… the poor guy. How d'you think he'll feel if he ever finds out?" That was Annette! Shit, how many of them were there? Now he wanted to barge in there and disrupt this cosy little conversation, but he was too shocked and embarrassed - bad enough facing them later and knowing what they knew, but at least then they could all pretend at ignorance. If they didn't have that, though… "How did it happen, anyway?" How did it happen? With the bathroom door that swung open if it wasn't closed properly? With the large mirror down the opposite wall? With a single guy thinking he was all alone in the house and not noticing that he could be clearly seen by anyone just casually walking down the hallway? A hot, relaxing shower that had developed into something even more sensuous - if solitary - had been witnessed and apparently recorded for posterity. This was the stuff of nightmares for any male. And Ian was now living it. And yet… was he now experiencing the first stirrings of excitement at the thought that these women were getting all turned on at the thought of watching a video tape in which he played the starring role? That was when he heard the sound of the TV being turned on and the sound of some TV programme or other being swiftly silenced by the whirring of the video recorder - and then by the unmistakable sound of the running water of a shower. The noises of approval from the three girls - and he was sure now it was just the three of them he shared the house with - was very gratifying. And he realised now that he was definitely turned on. The stiffening of his cock was proud testament to that."Why does he look different from other guys?" That was Jill again, breaking a silence that had fallen over the room. "He's not circumcised." "Why not?" "Because… well, because they don't do that in Europe. Do they?" "He's not from Europe, though. He's from Scotland." "Well, Scotland's in Europe, isn't it?" "Yeah, but don't let him hear you say that." "Why not?" "He says he's Scottish, not European - like he can only be one or the other." What was this? How the hell did watching him take a shower suddenly turn into a geographically political debate about his ethnic origins. Typically garbled syntax from Ian, but he didn't mind. He didn't have to wait long before the conversation turned back to comments he wanted to hear being made. "He's big-, isn't he?" "Damn right! Look at the size of that thing." "When's he going to start playing with it?" "Soon. Give him some time. He's still getting washed." Ian couldn't resist any longer. Curiosity was getting the better of him and he finally succumbed to it and pushed open the door quietly to look through at the TV screen. To see himself soaping his body down, then grabbing the shower nozzle and directing the spray down his body. Raising it again and angling his face into it. Allowing the water to sluice the soap and bubbles off. Some white suds caught in his pubic hair and shrouded his cock from view for a moment, then washed away revealing it again and his hand slid down his chest, across his flat stomach, over his cock and underneath to cup his balls momentarily. This was where it started, then. When the shower became less about getting clean and more about playing. The three girls sat on the couch and stared at the screen, rapt. They watched as his hand slipped back up round his balls and closed round his cock again, before moving away. It slicked across his stomach once more, but now his cock was stiffening, rising, standing out and up. Proud. Hard. Ready for his hand to close round it once more and start to… He stepped into the room and let the door close behind him with a thud. Arrella shot out her seat and switched off the TV, before swinging round to look at him, guilt written all over her face. Jill and Annette remained seated, but swung round to look at him, with matching expressions. Ian's own face was now set in stone - hard and expressionless, masking his mounting excitement. Concealing his true feelings. Not even remotely betraying the sudden, audacious plan he had just half formed. "What the bloody hell is going on here!!?" he thundered, and Arrella took a step back. "No…nothing," she stammered, unconvincingly. "'Nothing'? It didn't look like 'nothing' to me. It looked like… like…" Perfect. Pretend to let the shock and surprise get in the way of your words. Outrage. Righteous indignation. Everything you were genuinely experiencing just a few moments ago. "Ian, I'm sorry. I didn't expect… I mean, I thought…" "Sit down." It was said quietly, but there was an edge to his voice and Arrella obeyed, meekly. Ian rejoiced as he noted that - he was carrying this off better than he had hoped. But could he carry it off all the way? She was wearing tight denim shorts and a bikini top - exposing a lot of tanned skin. If this worked, that would make things all the more exciting. In fact, none of them were wearing much - they must have been out in the sun. Jill had a tiny, red bikini and bikini bottoms, while Annette was wearing shorts and a t-shirt - he seriously doubted she was wearing a bra under that t-shirt, judging by the way her nipples were showing through the fabric. He turned to the TV and bent down to the video recorder. Stopped the tape and set it rewinding. Kept the girls waiting to see how he was going to react as he waited for the tape to get back to the start and ejected it. Drew it out. Stood and turned to face them, with it held in his hand. "Who made this?" he asked, waving it at them. Guilty looks exchanged. Then Arrella timidly raised a hand. "But you all thought it would be fun to watch it?" They all shrank back slightly. "Stand up." This last statement was directed at Arella and she hesitated for a moment, then stood up and faced him. "I think you owe me something, now." Careful now, careful. You could blow everything here by moving too fast. "What do you two think?" Annette and Jill looked shocked at being wrenched back into the confrontation without warning and started squirming in their seats, but said nothing. Back me up here and I'll let you off the hook was the message Ian was trying to send them, but they weren't picking up on it. As far as they were concerned, they had simply fallen into a very awkward situation and although they had initially been gleeful observers, it was a fair bet that they now wanted to be anywhere but here. If he could get them on his side, though… He sighed, turned to Arrella and repeated, "I think you owe me something and I know how we can settle this. You've taken a hell of a liberty here. I think you owe me a bit of a liberty in exchange." "What have you got in mind?" Arrella asked. What the hell. It was now or never. Go for it and see what happens. "I think you need to get your arse tanned, darlin'." "What?" Ian pulled the swivel chair away from the PC, sat down and adjusted it to its lowest setting before answering. "You heard me. Don't act daft. Drop your shorts and your knickers and bend over my knee right now." "Like hell!" Suddenly raging, Arrella turned to stalk away, but Ian leaned forward and grabbed her wrist. She jerked it away easily and backed off a bit, but didn't walk out the room. She stood and faced him, the colour in her cheeks the result of anger rather than guilt and embarrassment now. "You owe that to me!" "Yeah, well if you think I'm going to do that, then you must be seriously…" "I think he's got a point, Arrella." Jill's voice was soft, but it cut across Arrella easily. Outwardly Ian's expression didn't change, but inwardly he rejoiced. Yes! A bit of the support that would go a long way in this debate. He nodded at Jill. "Yeah, c'mon Arrella. You took every opportunity you could to embarrass him. It's only fair you get to find out what it feels like for yourself." Annette added before Arrella could frame a coherent response. "I'm not doing it." But there was doubt in her voice now. Less self assurance. The support she had been anticipating had defected and she suddenly realised that her two friends actually wanted to see this happen - the thought was exciting them. There had always been a competitive, mischevious element to their friendship - she should have seen this coming. "All you have to do, is come over here, bare your arse and bend over my knee," Ian said. He sounded so reasonable, like he was explaining a bit of logic to someone who was missing a small, but vital element. "I'll take care of the rest. Ten strokes. Palm of the hand." Arrella stood stiff and glared at him, then looked over at Jill and Annette. "If I do this…" "Yes?" "That's if I do this. I haven't agreed." "Yeesss?" "We do it without witnesses." "No." "I'm not going to humiliate myself in front of my friends!" "You humiliated me in front of your friends. I should get the same privilege." "That's not the same thing!" But Jill and Annette were nodding now. Nodding agreement to Ian's words. Annette started to say something, but Arrella cut her off angrily. "All right! Fine! Let's just do this then and get it finished!" She turned to face Ian, cheeks brighter than ever. "How are we going to do it, then?" He looked up at her and smiled, triumphantly. "Shorts down. Knickers down. Bare arse presented and ready for spanking." "Fine! And I'm guessing that you'll say that -" she pointed to the bulge in his trousers that had been growing distinctly less discreet in the last few minutes " - has nothing to do with this?" Annette and Jill leaned forward and flushed slightly as they eyed up the bulge. If any of them expected Ian to cross his legs or try to conceal his arousal, they were surprised - he just smiled at Arrella and allowed them all to look. Frustrated in her final ploy at misdirection, Arrella made an incoherent sound of irritation and unzipped her shorts, then moved round to stand by his side. A pause to psyche herself up, then she pushed them down to her ankles in one fluid motion. As she straightened up, one hand was already covering herself, protecting her modesty and then she got down on her knees and bent over Ian's knee. Part II Arrella "Oh, now that's a beautiful arse." Ian said, stroking it with his right hand. His fingers caressed her and cupped one cheek lightly. She wriggled slightly, trying to get comfortable and gasped slightly when one finger slipped down between her legs and found the heat and moistness that betrayed her own building arousal. Damn him, now that he knew about that, he was going to be insufferable! She could feel the stiffness of his cock pressing into her side and that was doing nothing for her state of mind. By now she wanted to reach out and close her fingers round it, but she couldn't give in to this. She couldn't admit how turned on she now was by giving in to this humiliating act of punishment. "I thought you were going to hit me, not fondle me," she said. "Get it over with." The first slap took her totally by surprise. She had barely time to notice Ian's hand leaving her arse, before being replaced. At speed. Hard. She cried out, almost before she heard the loud "crack" of flesh striking bare flesh on her right cheek and felt the heat from the sting spreading, spreading, spreading… And then, even as that heat was fading into another kind of heat, something different, something almost pleasant there was another crack on the opposite cheek and she cried out again. "Say 'thank you,'" she heard Ian saying to her. "Get lost," she replied, but the words were bitten off as another, harder slap hit the first cheek again. "Say 'thank you' or they'll get harder." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her friends leaning forward, eagerly watching the show and she wondered what they could see. Whether Ian's palm prints were flaring up bright red on her cheeks. She held her tongue, but that gave no respite. "Say it!" Ian told her and slapped her again. She yelped at the hardest slap yet and still said nothing. Ian raised his hand and she tensed, waiting for the inevitable impact, but it never came. She lay perfectly still, knowing that it had to be there, just waiting. Waiting for her to relax. "Say 'thank you'," Ian said. Then with another "crack!" his hand slapped her first cheek once more and she gasped out the words. "Aah, much better," Ian said, and she felt his hand gently stroking her abused cheeks once more. She screwed up her eyes and thought about protesting, but found herself appreciating his caresses. His hand seemed to soothe away the sting of her previous punishment and dissipate the heat. No, wait… not dissipate… no, it seemed to be settling somewhere else. She moaned softly as his hand slipped between her legs once more and find where the heat had fled to. This time she found she had no objection to his finger finding the slickness of her pussy. "Oh, you like that do you?" he said to her softly, before announcing to Annette and Jill; "Come over here and feel this. She's having fun here." "No," she said softly, but her heart wasn't in it. On one level she was still raging at this treatment, this punishment, but on another level she was luxuriating in it, delighting in it. Did she want her friends to witness her humiliation? Was she ashamed of her position? Did she really want to keep some measure of privacy, or… or did she want her friends to witness everything, to feel, see, smell, taste, touch her excitement? Annette was the first to get to her feet and cross over the room, then get down on her knees and caress Arrella's cheek, gently. Another gasp as her friend's fingers slipped between her legs and then withdrew. Then those fingers were held before her nose. "You're enjoying this, aren't you Arrella?" Annette asked her and she shook her head. "Yes, you are. Jill come over here and smell this." Jill got up next and joined them, but didn't go round behind Arrella. She sat down on the floor and stroked her face gently. "Shh," she said. "It'll be over soon. That's five so far." "I'm sorry," Arrella whispered. She could feel Annette pulling her shorts and underwear off over her feet, but was powerless to protest. "I'm really sorry. I don't want any more." "Well, on that I'm now open to negotiation." Ian answered, unexpectedly. "What?" Annette's hand was between Arrella's legs again and she found herself, no longer hindered by her shorts, opening them up to allow her friend easier access. She was amazed by herself - she was becoming so wanton. And not with just anyone, but with her closest friends. "If you agree to do as I say for the rest of the day, I'll let you off with the next five slaps. If you change your mind at any time, you can always assume the position again and we'll take care of things like that." Annette's hand was reaching down her back now and finding the knot that held her bikini tied shut. She wanted to tell her friend to stop, but couldn't seem to find the words and then suddenly the knot was untied and the bikini was slipping to the floor. Jill continued to stroke her face and hush her - crooning to her like a baby. "Well?" Ian asked. "What d'you think?" "No." Ian raised his hand. "Are you sure?" "No, wait!" His hand hesitated where it was. "Please." "You agree, then?" "Yes." "Then stand up. Now." Arrella stood up slowly, surprised at how shaky her legs felt. Her arms instinctively went to cover herself - one hand going down to her pussy, her other arm crossing over her breasts. "Drop your arms." Ian said. She hesitated a moment, before uncovering herself and finding reserves to stare Ian defiantly in the face. He smiled at that and he realised that he wasn't looking for a truly submissive woman. He was much more interested in the thrill of taking charge of a woman who knew her own mind. Annette got down to her knees in front of Arrelle and found her pussy once more, while Ian stalked round her, studying her naked body. Examining her. Despite herself, she found herself thrilling to his attentions once more. She should be mortified at this feeling of vulnerability, of helplessness - should be raging inside. Shouldn't she? She was raging inside, wasn't she? Wasn't she? "All right," she said. "What now?" Ian stopped in front of Arrelle and then held his hand out to Jill. After a moment's hesitation, she took it. He drew her towards him and wrapped an arm round her shoulders, then ran his other hand down her back and cupped her arse. Arrelle felt a spark of jealousy as she realised that the bare skin of Jill's stomach was being pressed into his hard cock and was doing nothing to resist - a spark of jealousy that deepened, as she suddenly realised that Jill was squirming against that cock. "Now you stand there and do what Annette tells you," Ian said, before walking back to the couch. Part III Ian again Ian drew Jill down to the couch with him and kicked off his shoes, enjoying the expression on Arrella's face. He watched the back of Annette's head bobbing up and down between Arrella's thighs and saw Arrella's hands slowly come up to cup the back of her friend's head. He felt Jill's hand unbuckling and unzipping his jeans as he untucked his t-shirt and shrugged it over his head, then gasped softly as her hand delved into his tight boxer shorts and closed round his hard cock. "Oh, baby, I've been wanting to hold this ever since Arrella showed us that video," she purred, then leaned forward to kiss the tip of it. He sighed and shifted slightly, then looked back up at Arrella. She was staring fixedly at his cock, but she was squirming as well and throwing her head back every few seconds. He could se that she had a tight hold of Annette's hair now and although she was trying to watch him and Jill, she was obviously having difficulty in maintaining concentration. Jill's mouth moved away from his cock and she held it in her hands and studied it for a moment. "Are you uncircumcised?" she asked. "Yeah." "Then this is your foreskin?" She pinched the tip of the loose skin and smiled. "You actually look circumcised if it gets drawn back." He smiled, enjoying the way she was playing with his cock like it was a new toy. Enjoying her attention and carresses. Enjoyed the way even Annette had turned Arrella slightly and was now watching out the corner of her eye as she fingered Arrella's pussy. Arrella was now too lost in whatever pleasure Annette was giving her to even notice. He raised himself slightly off the couch and slipped his trousers and boxers off completely, then reached across to undo Jill's bikini top. As it slipped off and revealed her beautiful breasts, she slipped to her knees on the floor in front of him and grabbed his cock again, then licked right up the length of his shaft. He gasped at the erotic sight of her mouth tracing his length and his hands clenched spasmodically on the edges of the couch. He arched his back, and gasped out loud as she closed her mouth over his cock and slipped her lips down it, then back up again, before moving forward, trailing his head over her chin, down her throat and between her breasts. She smiled and held it in place there for a moment, squeezing her breasts on either side of it and rocking forward so that he thought he might come right there, and then she moved forward and her mouth found his at last. The videotape I had no idea the my girlfriend was so kinky. I had been dating Brandy for a couple of months, and the sex had been great. Brandy liked to tease me for a long time before she fucked my brains out, working me up to a great climax. What she really liked was to have me cum all over her. She loved for me to unload the entire contents of my balls all over every part of her body, especially her face and tits. That had been a lot of fun, but I was not at all prepared for what she wanted me to do now. Brandy was quite a voyeur, and she loved taping our sessions and watching them together while she jacked me off and fingered herself. Of course she loved watching me shower her with my cum, which would usually inspire me to cum all over her again. But now she wanted to video tape me cumming all over another woman. At first I didn’t know what to think, but then Brandy told me who it was that she wanted to video tape me with. Andrea was well known throughout the high school. She was and average looking girl, with a slightly heavy build. Andrea was about the same height as I, with shoulder length brown hair. What set Andrea apart from every other girl in school was her chest. She had a massive set of 42 DD tits that she kept encased in bras with at least four clasps. As far as anyone in our school knew, no one had had the privilege of laying their eyes on that splendid rack. Andrea was the girl Brandy wanted to tape me with. Brandy and Andrea had been friends since elementary school. I knew that they hung out often, but I had no idea that their friendship was like this. But I was definitely looking forward to having my way with Andrea’s enormous melons. Brandy set the date for that Friday night, when her parents would be out of town. She seemed even more excited than I was as we fucked that night, and she made me promise that wouldn’t masturbate the entire week until my encounter with Andrea. The week crawled by, with Brandy holding firm to her promise not to get me off. It was made even worse by sitting in class with Andrea. She caught me a couple of times staring at her enormous tits, and would give me a shy smile before looking away. By the time Friday night rolled around I was horny as hell, and I arrived at Brandy’s house with a raging hardon in anticipation of having my way with Andrea’s big tits. Brandy had me come in and wait in the living room. I could see in her eyes how eager she was to get this show on the road. She went upstairs to get the camera and to let Andrea know that I was here. Brandy came down the stairs first, and went to the corner of the room to start taping. She grinned at me and told me to look over my shoulder. I turned and saw Andrea come from around the corner. She was wearing a white button-down shirt and a pair of white panties. The sight of her hard nipples through the silk shirt caused my dick to begin throbbing again, and she licked her lips as she looked down and saw the bulge in my pants. Without saying a word Andrea walked over and stood in front of me. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her deep cleavage, before she shrugged of the garment in one swift motion. Andrea stood in front of me with her massive tits on display. They hung down and away from her body perfectly, like enormous teardrops. Her nipples, already hard, stood out about and inch, surrounded by areolas the size of saucers. She slowly cupped them in her hands and held them out for me, looking down and smiling. “Go ahead, their all yours tonight.” I reached up and ran my hands over every inch of her mountainous titflesh, kneading and squeezing them. Andrea let me maul her tits for a few minutes, her mouth open and breathing heavily as she watching me through half-lidded eyes. I leaned forward and gently bit down on one of her huge nipples, causing her to moan and push me back onto the sofa. She quickly straddled my lap, rubbing her crotch against my hard cock as she lifted one of her big tits to my mouth. She grabbed the back of my head with her other hand, and ground her pussy against my hard cock as she fed me her tits. She shoved first one and then the other into my hungry mouth as I licked and sucked her enormous mounds all over. Andrea was gasping and moaning as I ravaged her tits, whispering to me to lick her tits all over and to bite her nipples. She began to grind on my lap more violently, causing her tits to bounce and jiggle, when she grabbed my head and pressed me between her big tits as she cried out. Andrea orgasmed as I reached up and pressed her tits around my head, rubbing her expansive titflesh all over my face. After she came Andrea put her hands on my shoulder and began moving back and forth, slapping me in the face with her huge melons. I tried to catch her nipples in my mouth, nipping slightly and causing her to slap me even harder with her big tits. Brandy had gotten up from her chair across the room and had moved right beside us to capture all of my boob munching on the tape. She was cheering Andrea on as she beat her big boobs against my head. I was in heaven as her two mountainous tits were rubbing, bouncing, and jiggling against my face. Andrea pulled back suddenly, reaching down and grabbing the waistband of my shorts. She yanked them down, allowing my throbbing hard dick to spring free and slap against her tits. She groaned and started to beat her tits against my cock, smearing precum all over her rippling titflesh. I groaned and began thrusting my cock up in between Andrea’s swinging tits. She leaned forward, completely smothering my cock with her tits, and looked up to shove her tongue into my mouth. My hands went to her tits as hers went to my head, and our kiss continued to build in urgency as I pumped my cock between her tits. Andrea broke the kiss, and sat back on her knees, breathing heavily. She grabbed her tits and squeezed them around my cock. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with lust. “Is this what you want? You want to fuck my big tits? Brandy said that would soak my big titties with your cum.” I responded by grunting and bucking my hips into her cleavage, sending a gout of precum splashing from between her tits. “Oh yeah, stud, fuck my beautiful tits! I can’t wait to see you soak them down in hot cum!” Andrea slid her huge knockers up and down on my drooling cock as I continued to pump precum into her cleavage. Watching this girl fuck my cock with her titties was almost too much for me to take. Brandy had the camera focused on the action, and her other hand was inside her shorts. I reached over and cupped her crotch with my hand to feel her finger herself, causing both girls to gasp and moan. My balls were beginning to tighten, but I didn’t want this to end yet. I told Andrea to get up and sit on the couch. We rearranged ourselves, and I stood with my dripping cock pointed right at her tits. She cupped her tits in her hands, holding them level with my cock, and I took my dick in my hand and rubbed the swollen head around on her hard nipples. Andrea moaned as I teased her nipples with my drooling cock, smearing more precum all over her tits. Brandy kept moving around us, making sure she captured the action from every angle. After fucking her nipples I took my cock and started slapping her big tits, causing them to ripple and jiggle in her hands. This sent Andrea over the edge and she cried out. “Yes, spank my big titties! Spank them hard with your big dick!” Andrea came hard as I cockslapped her tits. By now I was ready to cum, and the precum was flowing freely from my cock. Andrea’s tits were shiny and wet, and I stepped forward and rammed my cock in between her tits. She squeezed them around my dick as I put my hands on her shoulders and started to pump as hard as I could. Andrea was gasping and moaning as I pounded her tits, and Brandy found a great angle to film as she knew what was going to happen next. I looked over at her and she quietly mouthed the words “Cum, baby, cum all over her tits”. I groaned and thrust once more between Andrea’s beautiful tits and sent a geyser of cum shooting from between her cleavage. She squealed as my cum splashed back down on top of her tits. I stepped back and fisted my cock, sending another rope of cum flying, this one slapping her tits and splashing across her chest. Andrea had her own orgasm as I continued to jack off on her tits, sending more spurts of thick cum all over her juicy tits and nipples. I milked the rest of my cum out against one of her rock hard nipples as she came down from her climax. “Oh my god, that was amazing,” she breathed, as I rubbed my still hard dick around on her sperm covered tits, smearing my cum into her enormous breasts. Brandy looked down at her, smiling. “Oh, he’s not done just yet, girl. This guy is a cum machine. I bet you’ve got another load to give her don’t you?” she said as she reached down and massaged my balls. I was just able to manage a moan as I pushed Andrea back onto the couch. She laid down and I straddled her, shoving my cock between her tits and slowly started pumping. Andrea grabbed my ass as I reached down to squeeze her cum slick tits around my hardon. I looked down at the spectacle beneath me. I was determined to take my time and enjoy fucking Andrea’s amazing tits. I alternating between pumping her cleavage and rubbing my cock on her hard nipples. I would stop fucking her tits and she would slap her tits around my dick, rubbing them up and down the length of my throbbing cock. Andrea came three more times while I slowly fucked her tits. Brandy caught it all on tape, moving all around the room so she could watch me fucking Andrea’s tits from every angle. We went at it for a good half hour or so before I could feel the cum churning in my balls. I pulled out of her tits and started beating her tits with my cock. Brandy knew I was getting ready to explode. She told me to kneel next to Andrea on the floor, and she took my place straddling Andrea, giving her a great view down of Andrea’s big tits. I started jacking my cock as both girls begged for me to cum. Andrea arched her back and leaned toward me, cupping her tits in her hands as if she was offering them to me. I pressed the swollen head of by cock into her nipple and exploded. Andrea gasped as my cum sprayed onto her nipple and splattered all over her breast. “That’s it, cum on her tits for me! Jack off all over her tits!” Brandy yelled as she fingered herself to orgasm. I pulled away from her nipple and sprayed a rope of cum against her tit, where it slapped into her breast and ran down into her fingers. I bucked my hips and pumped my cock, shooting two more spurts that looped across her chest and drenched her massive tits. I aimed my dick a little higher and shot my cum into the air where it rained down all over her tits. Brandy reached down and milked the rest of my cum from my cock, smearing it on Andrea’s nipples as both girls slowly cam down from their own orgasms. Later that night Brandy and I watched our tape. She had done an excellent job filming. She jacked me off twice. The Videotape When I returned from lunch it was lying with the rest of my mail in a pile on my desk. I get videotapes in the mail all the time—I'm the co-owner of a video editing and production firm—but this one caught my eye because it was hand-addressed personally to Mark Bernier, in block letters, with no return address. I was bored with the editing job I was in the middle of. More to delay getting back to it than for any other reason, I opened the envelope. There was no note, and the tape was unlabeled. I slid the rolling chair across my office to the VCR and popped in the tape. The tape was made by an amateur: it was a little grainy and underlit. I saw what looked like a bedroom, with an unoccupied king-size bed. After few moments a couple came in and began undressing one another. The man was a lean slick-looking guy of about 30. The woman I could only see from behind, but she had a beautiful, shapely body. Within a minute or so, and without any romantic hugging or kissing, the couple was naked on the bed, engaged in serious foreplay. I wondered idly why some anonymous person would have gone to the trouble of sending me an amateur porno tape. Realizing that I might as well get back to work, I sighed and rolled over to the VCR to stop the tape. As I did so I glanced back at the screen. The woman was now astride the man and moving up and down, his cock buried inside her. He was pulling her forward so that her lovely breasts hung down and brushed his lips. I could see her face clearly. The woman was Amy, my wife. I lunged for the VCR and hit "Stop"; then I sat back in my chair, stunned. Without moving I pondered the total impossibility of what I had just seen. Until that afternoon I considered myself the luckiest and most happily married man in Cincinnati, if not in the entire state of Ohio. I loved Amy with all my heart, and I knew she adored me. We had been married about 4½ years and I'd never had the slightest reason to suspect her of being unfaithful, or of being dissatisfied with me in any way. I stared across the room for many minutes, seeing nothing, my mind a whirl of confused and painful thoughts. I had no idea what to do—I had no idea what this tape meant. Well, obviously I had SOME idea: my goddam wife was cheating on me! But the when and where, and above all the why, were a total mystery. As my shock hardened into anger, I got to my feet and closed my office door. If nothing else, I needed to know more. I needed to see the whole tape. *** *** *** I spent the rest of the afternoon watching, then re-watching the tape with a professional eye, trying to put aside my horror and simply see what was there to be seen. It was clearly an unedited original, made from a single camera (presumably hidden) in a bedroom somewhere. It showed two hours of Amy with the unknown man, in a variety of sex acts. For some reason the sound on the tape was badly distorted and I couldn't understand any of their words to one another. After the first fuck, with Amy riding the man, they both rested for a few minutes. Then she sat up with her back to the bed's headboard, while he kneeled in front of him and she sucked him off, caressing his balls and holding the base of his cock so he wouldn't thrust too deeply into her mouth. I watched him spasm into her as he came, and I watched her swallow—something she had never done for me. After about twenty minutes of idle conversation, she sucked him to hardness again; then she got on her hands and knees, and he fucked her from behind for a few minutes. Then, to my utter shock, he went to the night table, got out a bottle of lube, and lubed up his cock and her asshole. Without any word of protest from Amy, he then slowly worked his cock into her and fucked her anally for a long time, before throwing his head back and shouting as he came into her. Amy remained a passive participant the whole time, moving with him as he pumped her but showing no signs either of pleasure or protest. After this third orgasm the man collapsed on the bed. Amy arose and disappeared from the picture, but a few moments later she returned with a washcloth and carefully cleaned off the man's cock. He seemed half-asleep; but when she finished cleaning him she took his cock in her mouth again and once more licked and sucked him to an erection. As he lay back smiling at her, she pumped him vigorously, this time apparently determined to bring him off again in her mouth. The tape ran out in the middle of this blow-job. Grimly, thinking like a professional video editor and not a betrayed husband, I went through the tape again for any further clues that would help me understand why Amy could have done this. I didn't learn much. The bedroom was spacious and fancy—clearly its owner had money. There was enough natural light coming in through the windows to show that the tape was made during the day. The man was about 30, which would have made him 3 years or so older than Amy. He was attractive, I guess, but nothing special, and his cock was certainly no larger than mine. The tape had to have been shot about 4-6 months earlier. When she first came into the room Amy was wearing a locket I'd given her for our fourth wedding anniversary, about six months ago. But her hair was longer in the video than I had seen it lately, and I remembered her cutting it shorter about four months ago. The one thing that came through more and more clearly as I watched again was the contrast in their attitudes. The man was relaxed and enjoying himself. He was obviously very familiar with Amy, almost possessive—this was no first-time encounter. Yet Amy seemed merely dutiful. She cooperated with whatever the man seemed to want, and several times took the lead herself. But the smiles she gave him seemed forced, and whenever her face was turned away from his I saw a grim look, never an expression of pleasure or excitement. And her one or two possible orgasms looked faked, though I wasn't confident of that. I was left with more questions than answers. Now, in addition to "how could my loving wife have cheated on me?" I had to wonder "why would Amy have spent more than two hours fucking and sucking a man she didn't seem at all excited by?" And, at least as bad as those, was "why did she blow him and let him cum in her mouth, and why did she have anal sex with him, when she would never do those things with me?" *** *** *** Amy and I had first met when I was 31 and she was only 20, a junior at the University of Cincinnati doing an internship in our office. We regularly offered jobs to interns interested in the video production business, and Amy was the best we had ever had. She was very bright, extremely responsible, and showed a lot of initiative. From the first moment I saw her I was attracted to Amy—but I was also aware that I needed to maintain a totally professional relationship with her. She worked many hours by my side in the editing booth and I never touched her. We had a friendly, sometimes teasing, but completely appropriate relationship. On the last day of her internship I was very tempted to ask her out, but I restrained myself. 31 and 20 didn't seem like such a good idea—and she wasn't even out of school yet. But two years later I saw her again. Now graduated, she was applying for a position at the local CBS affiliate, and she stopped in to ask for an updated letter of recommendation. This time I didn't miss my chance, though I waited a couple of weeks until she landed the job. I invited her out to lunch, and we had a terrific time. It wasn't until more than a year later, when we were engaged to be married, that I learned the last visit had been a set-up. During her internship Amy had been as interested in me as I was in her—she used the "updated letter of recommendation" as an excuse to drop in and see me again, and it worked. I'd had my share of girlfriends, but never known a woman like Amy. Her energy and the joy she took in life made every moment around her a pleasure. She was not only beautiful, with sparkling eyes and a truly perfect figure, but charming and playful and intelligent. If it sounds like I was basically crazy about her, I was. We advanced from lunch dates to dinners, then to overnights and weekends together. Making love to Amy was completely delightful, at least at first. I always wanted to please her with a lot of foreplay, slow and tender touching, and then intercourse that was relaxed and lingering. I've never been into all that hard pounding. And it seemed that sexually as in every other way, Amy and I were a perfect match. She would lie back and enjoy my caresses, my hands and lips and tongue on her. Sometimes she'd let me bring her to two or three orgasms before I entered her; at other times she would get very aroused and say, "enough, Mark! get that beautiful thing inside me now!", and I'd be happy to oblige. On other occasions Amy would take the lead, massaging and stroking me all over, then using her own mouth and hands to get me frantically excited. She never blew me to completion, but was happy to suck and lick my cock, as long as I kept my hips still and never forced it into her mouth. In fact, I gradually realized that as wonderful as sex with Amy was, her range of preferences was rather narrow. She didn't seem to like anything too rough or forceful; she wouldn't let me come in her mouth; she liked a few basic positions, and didn't want to experiment with others; and she was clearly spooked by anything anal. I gently broached the latter possibility once or twice by caressing her bottom while we were making love. But when my fingers strayed near her opening she stiffened and reached back to move them away. The second time I tried it she said, "sorry, honey—I'm just not comfortable with that, OK?" Of course that was OK. I adored Amy, and if our sex life was a bit "vanilla" it was still loving and exciting—and frequent. And there were so many other ways in which we complemented one another. We both preferred to stay home most nights, making dinners out or parties the exceptions. We each loved cooking, and shared a lot of pleasure in trying new recipes together. She liked to dry the dishes, while I preferred to wash. I adored having a beautiful younger woman for a wife, someone whom I could teach things to, and be a protector for. And she loved feeling safe with me—she was a strong and independent woman, but she also liked being with someone a little older, who'd been out in the world longer. She teased me sometimes and called me "old man", but we both understood that it was a playful and loving expression. We just both felt like we'd found the perfect match, the jigsaw piece that completed our own puzzle. I was a happy man. *** *** *** Until now. What I saw that afternoon on the videotape destroyed me. It sickened me. And it confused me. I couldn't believe Amy would cheat on me—but she had. And I couldn't believe that my sweet wife, so conservative sexually, would happily let some other guy shoot off in her mouth, let alone fuck her energetically in the ass. But she had. She'd spent more than two hours getting this guy's rocks off. And if she hadn't seemed to enjoy it much, she'd certainly been an active and willing participant. I didn't know if my marriage was over. I couldn't imagine being without Amy; but I couldn't imagine going back to her either. How could I make love with her, return to our gentle and loving way of pleasing each other, while seeing her rolling around with that bastard, giving him her ass, letting him cum in her mouth? This had happened totally behind my back—I would have bet my house and my car on Amy's fidelity. How did I turn into that cliché, the cuckolded husband? How would I ever be able to trust her again? Despite my long afternoon with that damned videotape, I got home before Amy. On Wednesdays she worked a late shift and didn't come home until after 7pm. Usually I would make dinner for us and have it ready when she arrived. So she was surprised to see me just sitting at the kitchen table when she came in. There was nothing cooking, and the table wasn't set. In fact the lights weren't even on—I was sitting in semi-darkness as dusk fell outside. Amy must have had a good day. Her eyes shone and her face showed her pleasure at seeing me. "Hi sweetie! How was your day? Are we going out to dinner tonight?" She said this last as she turned on the light and looked around the kitchen, failing to see any signs of food preparation. Not waiting for my answer she plopped herself down in my lap and tried to give me a loving kiss. But I turned my face away, saying quietly, "Amy, why don't you sit down over there? We need to talk." Amy's face turned serious, but not alarmed. She sat down, saying, "is something wrong, Mark?" I looked at her silently for a long moment, contemplating what was about to happen. The end of our happiness—well, the end of hers. Mine had ended hours earlier. No sense in prolonging the agony. I didn't feel any desire to torment her. "Amy, how many other men have you fucked since we've been married?" "What?!" She half-shouted, half-gasped it. She looked utterly shocked. Her face turned pale, and she just stared at me without moving. "It's not a hard question—at least I hope it's not. I certainly hope that it's not so many that you've lost count." I couldn't resist the opportunity to be sarcastic. My anger was cool, almost intellectual. I knew I wasn't going to scream, or throw things. She never took her eyes off my face. In a strained, quiet voice she said, "Mark, you know how much I love you. Why on earth are you accusing me of this?" Aware that she'd replied to my question with another question, I didn't answer. Instead I just looked at her, tapping my fingers a couple of times on the videotape sitting in the middle of the table. I'd brought home a copy, after locking the original in a drawer at work. Amy glanced at the tape, then looked back at me. Her look showed horror, but also surprise. I said, "you didn't know you were being taped?" She shook her head, looking down at the floor. There was a long silence. Finally she said, "Mark, I am so sorry. Jesus, I – it happened only one time. I …. I know that's probably not much consolation." More silence. Then: "it meant nothing. It was – it was just sex. I didn't even enjoy it." She looked up at me. "If you saw a tape of it, you must have seen that. It was awful—I hated every minute of it." Suddenly she was crying, sobbing. "I'm so sorry!" She got up and tried to come into my arms, but I moved away from her. I didn't want to touch her. My urge to comfort her, my desire to dry her tears and make everything better, was overshadowed by my rage and confusion. I stepped away to the other side of the kitchen, leaving her standing by the table, sobbing, her hands hanging by her sides. She looked so young, and so small. She cried for a long time, and I couldn't bring myself to comfort her. Finally I got her the tissue box and a glass of water. She sat down, her crying gradually slowing to a trickle. She sighed, wiped her face, and drank some water. Looking at me, wearily, she said again, "I'm so sorry, Mark." Shuddering at my own cruelty but unable to hold back, I said, "how do you even know who and what I saw on that tape?" Her head shot up and she glared at me, her face full of anger. Then, after a minute, that look gave way to one of resignation. "Trust me, Mark, I know. It could only have been one afternoon, about four months ago. That's the only time I—the only time I've even touched another man since we started dating." She said this quietly, but in a way that, as angry as I was, made me believe her. For one thing, if there HAD been other times, how could she be so confident of what was on the tape? More silence. Suddenly I didn't know what to do or say. I felt adrift—terribly hurt, but also totally baffled. "Tell me about it," I said. "Tell me everything. Who, when, and above all why." Her weary face now showed something else. Just sorrow, perhaps, or a fear that hadn't been there before. Imploringly, she looked at me, stretching out her hand across the table towards mine, which remained just out of her reach. "None of that matters, Mark. I love you—more than I thought I could ever love anyone—and I know you know that. Please, just think of this as a mistake. A horrible, ugly, disgusting mistake. One that I'll spend the rest of my life making up to you for, if you'll let me." I stared at her in disbelief. "That's it? 'It was a mistake'? I'm supposed to say, 'OK, in that case let's forget about it'? Are you out of your mind? "Amy, in case it slipped your mind, we vowed to forsake all others. That meant, 'not climb on a bed with some other guy and fuck his brains out for two hours'. You expect me just to accept your apology, without even knowing why the hell this happened?" My voice was rising, and I tried to control my anger. "How am I supposed to be sure this 'mistake' won't happen again, with this guy or some other guy? Jesus, Amy—how can I possibly trust you after this? "No, sorry, but you're going to have to explain this. I'm not going to like it, but I have to hear it. You don't have to spell out the details—I had the pleasure of seeing all of those—but you have to tell me WHY you fucked some other man!" She was crying again, quietly, and shaking her head. "Mark, I can't. I just can't. Can't you just trust me enough to believe me, when I say that nothing like this will ever happen again?" I laughed at her, angrily. "Trust you? You've got to be kidding, right? This is hardly the time to be asking me to trust you! " For one thing, it was obviously not your first time with that asshole. Yet here you are swearing you did it only once!" She looked at me bleakly. "I … knew him from before, Mark. From California, before I met you." That made a certain amount of sense—at least, it seemed possible. "What's his name?" Unwillingly, she said, "Andy Darnton." "And just what the hell were you doing fucking Mr. Andy Darnton up one wall and down the other? Is this because I'm older? Because I'm almost 40? Have I stopped being able to satisfy you in bed lately, and you figured you needed another taste of a younger guy?" Amy had been calm, almost resigned, for a few minutes. But now she started sobbing again, her shoulders shaking almost uncontrollably. I could barely understand her words. "Please, Mark, please! It's nothing like that—you know I love the way you make love to me! I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt you—and I swear I will never do this again as long as I live. Please, please don't make me talk about it!" I just sat and stared at her as she wept. I had never experienced such a mixture of love, rage, sympathy, and utter bafflement. How could Amy possibly think I would let this go? It made no sense. She owed me an explanation—hell, she owed me a lot more than that! But it had to start with an explanation. For the next ten minutes we went back and forth, getting nowhere. I tried being low-key and reasonable, but before long I was shouting, and she cowered away from me. With a curse, I got up and headed for the bedroom, leaving her crying at the kitchen table. A few minutes later I was back in the kitchen, holding two suitcases I'd quickly packed. "Amy, I don't know if our marriage can survive this. You know how much I love you, but you've hurt me more than you seem to understand. "About the only thing I'm sure of is that if you won't tell me how and why this happened—how and why you fucked someone else—our marriage is over. "You can reach me on my cell, or at work." I headed for the door. Behind me Amy howled in despair, begging me to stay, but I didn't look back. I heard her feet running towards me, but before she could reach me I pulled the door shut behind me. The Videotape *** *** *** If there's anything on earth worse than finding out your wife has betrayed you, it has to be spending two weeks by yourself in a room at the Holiday Inn with plenty of time to think about it. Pretty much all I did for those two weeks was go to work, go back to the room, and brood about Amy. I alternated at frequent intervals between distraught, furious, and confused—sometimes more than one at a time. What did I know? Not much. My wife had fucked someone else, someone she knew from her past. Was it really only once? Had she really not wanted to do it? Then why do it? And why so uninhibitedly, giving her body to him in ways she denied me? Amy called me repeatedly. I never answered either of my phones, so she left me impassioned, desperate, pleading messages. At first there were several every day, then they gradually slowed to once a day or so. She loved me, she was lost without me,, wouldn't I please come home? Couldn't we work this out, somehow? A few times I called her back. She was thrilled to hear from me, breathless with relief. But when I made clear that I wouldn't even consider returning until she explained her adultery, the wild sobbing began again. Every conversation was the same, painful and frustrating. After about a week I simply stopped returning her calls. After a couple of days I decided to track down Mr. Andy Darnton—if that was even his real name. I did a Google search and found some surprising information. Mr. Darnton, age 32, had been killed in a traffic accident about two weeks before I received the videotape. Seems he ran a red light and got hit by a UPS truck. The newspaper article said he was married to a Patricia Romano, and they lived in the suburbs of Cincinnati. For lack of anything better to try, I got the Darnton's home number and called it. When a woman answered I said, "I'm calling to speak with Patricia Romano, please—this is Mark Bernier." There was a long silence, and then she said, "I wondered if you would call." We met at a coffee shop in her neighborhood that afternoon. She was a tall, slim, good-looking woman, about 30, with short black hair. She looked tired and unhappy. "Thank you for meeting me, Ms. Romano," I said. "I was sorry to hear about your husband." "He was a lying, cheating prick," she replied with a sad smile. "But I loved him—and I didn't know about most of the cheating until after he died." "Was it you who sent me that videotape?" I asked. "Yes—and I'm truly sorry if I hurt you or ruined your marriage. I was pretty upset, and I wasn't thinking all that clearly." Over several cups of coffee she told me that she and Andy had met in California two years earlier; she'd fallen in love with him and they'd married after just a few months. About a year ago, they'd moved to Cincinnati so he could take a job managing a couple of strip joints, the same kind of work he'd done in California. Patricia had had reason to suspect Andy cheated on her, but nothing concrete to go on. Then, after his accident, she was cleaning out the house and found four hidden videotapes, each with a woman's name neatly lettered on it. To her horror, they'd turned out to be tapes of Andy having sex with a different woman on each tape. The tapes had clearly been made in their bedroom, which hurt her all the more. Without thinking much about the consequences, she had tracked down the husbands of three of the women—the other one was single—and mailed the tapes to us anonymously. She wanted the women who'd been fucking her husband to suffer, and figured that would be the easiest way of making it happen. "Again, I'm very sorry, Mr. Dernier. Between grieving for Andy and hating the son-of-a-bitch, I wasn't thinking too clearly. It must have been awful for you." "Do you know if your husband knew Amy, or any of the other women, from before your marriage?" I asked her. She looked thoughtful. "I don't know. It's possible, but he never spoke much to me about the women in his life before I knew him. And the tapes were too upsetting for me to watch much of—once I saw what each one was I stopped watching them." Back in my hotel room, I wondered what I'd learned. At least Amy had told me one thing that was true: the name of her lover. But that still left me with far too many questions to answer, and far too much pain that I didn't know how to resolve. *** *** *** After about two weeks Amy stopped leaving me phone messages. I didn't know what that meant—but then a day later I got a letter at work. I opened it and read it hopefully, but it was the same thing as before: passionate, loving, apologetic, but utterly without the explanation I had demanded from her. She closed the letter by begging me to come home, or at least to call her. In a rage, I tore the letter to pieces and dropped them in the trash. Five more letters came, nearly one a day for the next week. Feeling somewhat calmer, I couldn't quite bear to throw them out, so I dropped them into a drawer without reading them. On the twenty-fifth day after walking out, I woke up in the morning angry and resolved. That's it, fuck it, I'm not letting this drag on. I called the lawyer who did the legal work for our business and asked him to start on the paperwork for a divorce. When he asked what was going on, I explained that Amy had cheated on me, but that I simply wanted a basic no-fault divorce. We could split all our assets in half, and thank God there were no children. I asked him how soon he could have Amy served with the papers, and he said it wouldn't take more than a couple of days. Two days later Amy left a wild, howling, despairing message on my office phone. How could I do this to her? Didn't I know she loved me, and would do anything for me? Wouldn't I please talk to her, come home to her, let her back into my life? The message just made me tired—and sad, of course. There seemed no point in even calling her back, and I didn't. *** *** *** About a week after the divorce papers were served, I walked into my office and was shocked to see Margaret Selvin sitting in a chair waiting for me. Margaret was Amy's older sister, by nearly 13 years. She lived in Seattle with her husband and two children. I'd only met her a handful of times, at our wedding and at some family holidays, but I liked and respected her. In fact, I felt that we were friends, desite our limited time together. "Hello, Mark, how are you?" I went over and kissed her cheek. "I'm OK, thanks, under the circumstances. I assume Amy has told you what's going on? "Yes," she said, "that's why I'm in Cincinnati. When I spoke to her on the phone four days ago she sounded so awful that I got frightened, and hopped on a plane. I really thought she might do something to herself." I felt a hole in the pit of my stomach. "I'm sorry, Margaret—I had no idea. I haven't seen Amy in weeks, or talked to her recently." "Mark, I won't waste your time. I have always liked you, and I think you like me too. You know I think you have been a terrific husband to Amy—you've made her happier than she's ever been before. "I'm here to ask you a favor. Will you come back to the house with me and see her?" I sighed. "I'm not sure there's much point, Margaret. She won't tell me why she cheated on me, no matter how much I ask. I just can't get past this. It's time for both of us to move on with our lives." She looked hard at me. "That's it—you're ready to give up on her? You don't love Amy any more?" "I didn't say I didn't love her. But what she did tore me apart, Margaret. I can't get past it, and I can't understand it. And with each passing day it gets a little easier not to love her, and a little easier to imagine my future without her in it." "What would it take to get you to see her, Mark?" "That's easy," I replied. "She has to tell me all about it—who that guy was to her, and why she spent the afternoon bouncing on his bed. She says it was 'a mistake' that will never happen again. If she can't be honest with me, there's no point in our even talking." Margaret leaned forward, looking intently at me. "What if I can get her to tell you the story, Mark? Would you listen? Would you try to understand, to see her side of it?" "Of course, Margaret!" I got a little hot. "Just try not to lean so hard on me, OK? I'm not the one caught with my pants down in someone else's bed! Did she tell you all of what she was doing on that tape?" She sighed. "Yes, Mark. And it's pretty awful. Believe me, it's not hard for me to imagine how you feel." We sat for a few moments in silence. "Margaret, if you can make Amy understand that she needs to tell me the reason she fucked Andy Darnton, then I'll come back to the house and hear her. And I'll try—I'll try—to be patient and understanding. Though it's hard to imagine what would make it all right." "Thanks, Mark. I'll call you." *** *** *** Two days later I drove up to the house. Margaret had called to say that Amy would tell me the whole story. I didn't really believe it, but I had promised to give her a chance. Margaret greeted me at the door, leading me into the living room where Amy sat on the sofa. She looked awful. She was wearing her bathrobe, her hair was dirty and uncombed, and there were huge bags under her eyes. She also appeared to have lost ten pounds or more. I had feared she might throw herself into my arms when she saw me; but all she did was look up at me, saying "hello, Mark," in a quiet, defeated voice. Her eyes were dull and lifeless. "Hello, Amy," I said quietly. I didn't say anything else, and after a minute or two Amy began to speak. Her voice was low and without inflection. She spoke for a long time, without looking at me, instead gazing abstractedly across the room. WHAT AMY TOLD ME "Margaret has persuaded me I need to tell you this, Mark. I know that once you hear the story, that will be the end for us—that's why I couldn't tell you. But Margaret has helped me see that if I don't tell you, you will go ahead and divorce me. So it seems like it doesn't matter much either way. "You remember that my dad died the summer right before I started at UCLA? Well, after that there was never enough money. I had a scholarship but it wasn't enough. I got some different part-time jobs, waitressing, doing temp work, but I wasn't going to be able to pay my spring semester bill. "Then a girl in my dorm told me she had worked for a year in a club as an exotic dancer. A stripper, actually. You had to strip down to just a G-string and strut around a little stage, shaking your tits. But she told me that it didn't go any further than that, no lap-dancing unless you wanted to—and nobody harassed her, the management was good about protecting the girls. And the money was fantastic—ten times what a waitress could make. "I didn't think I could ever do anything like that. I was pretty innocent then, Mark, and it scared the hell out of me. But I was also desperate. So I went to the club, and they hired me. "It wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. I got over the embarrassment pretty quickly—it became just a job, like typing or serving hamburgers. Showing off my body just became routine; and on the rare occasions when a guy tried to grab me off the stage, the bouncers quickly tossed him out on his ass, so I felt safe enough. "Andy Darnton—the guy in the video—took over as the manager of the club after I'd been there a few months. He was very professional with me and the other girls, never leering at us or sneaking back into the dressing room. He asked me out to dinner a few weeks after he got there, and before long we were dating. "He was older, and sophisticated, and I felt safe with him. I wasn't a virgin when I met him, but I didn't know much about sex, and he taught me. But it was never awful, Mark. He was gentle and kind to me. I even thought I loved him after awhile. "He taught me lots of new positions, and how to give a good blow-job and swallow his cum. When he first said he wanted to do anal I was horrified, but he gradually got me used to the idea. When we finally did it he was very patient and slow with me, so it never hurt very much. After awhile I even got to like it a little, and I never minded doing it to please him. "At the time I never saw it, but looking back I can see now that he was gradually easing me towards more and more slutty things: dressing to tease, flashing my panties when we were at a restaurant, doing wilder and wilder things in bed. But he was always kind about it, never forced me or scared me. "Until one night in my sophomore year, after I'd been seeing him nearly a year. He took me to a fancy nightclub where some of the movie stars went and it was really exciting. He'd given me Ecstasy, which we did together once in a while, and that plus a few drinks had me really flying. "We went back to his place, and he had me put on some really slutty-looking stockings and a garter belt, and we started to have sex. I don't remember everything that happened, but we were doing it spoon-fashion on his bed, him pushing into me from behind, and I was very turned on. And suddenly there was another man in the room, a much older guy. He was kind of fat, and had silver hair, and he had to be 50 or so. "He was just standing there, gazing at us, and then he started taking off all his clothes. And Andy was pumping into me… And then the old guy climbed onto the bed and moved his dick towards my mouth. "I don't really know why I didn't scream, or try to get away. I was so high, from the Ecstasy and the alcohol, I thought maybe I was dreaming it. And Andy held me tight, and crooned in my ear to go ahead, just please Tommy with my mouth. "So I did it. I wasn't really all there, but I had Andy fucking me from behind and Tommy fucking my mouth. "And then it just went on and on, and got worse and worse. They pulled out of me and switched, and this fat old man I'd never seen before was fucking me while Andy was making me blow him. And then Andy was on his back, with me lying on top of him fucking him, and Tommy climbed up behind me and stuck his dick in my ass. "I screamed, because it hurt like hell. Andy had always been very gentle with my butt, but Tommy just rammed inside me. And then the two of them were humping into me, and I was trapped between them, and it hurt…. "I lost all track of time, and they just kept doing things to me, using me in different ways. Finally it was over. I was half-unconscious, still high, and I felt so ashamed! My boyfriend and his friend had used me like a whore. I was just lying there naked on the bed, and I think they thought I was asleep. "I saw Tommy getting his clothes on, grinning at Andy. Andy said, 'didn't I tell you she'd be hot?', and Tommy said 'she was fantastic—I can hardly wait to do her again'. "Then Tommy pulled out his wallet and put some money on the dresser, and he said, 'I'll give you the rest when you send me the video,' and Andy told him he'd copy it the next day and send it to him. "And then Tommy was gone and Andy was back on top of me, grinning, saying, 'hey, Amy, wasn't that terrific?' He was all excited again, and he fucked me once more while I lay there, eyes closed, wishing with all my might that it was just a bad dream. "The next day I sneaked out of bed while Andy was still asleep. I went back to the dorm, scrubbed myself over and over in the shower, then packed up all my stuff and went straight to the bus station. "One of my friends was from San Antonio and had told me she loved it there, so I got a bus ticket and rode for 26 hours to San Antonio. I got a waitressing job, found a shitty little apartment, and just hid out for six months. I had the irrational fear that Andy would come after me and take me back, and I was terrified. Of course, I see now that he wouldn't have bothered to chase me—there were plenty more like me right back at the strip club. "When I finally felt a little less scared, I filed a bunch of transfer applications, all to colleges far from LA. I had good grades from UCLA, except for the semester I dropped out in the middle of, and the University of Cincinnati made me a good scholarship offer, so I came here. "You know most of the rest. For a long time I was too messed-up to date anybody at all. When we got together I hadn't been with a man since Andy. I was scared to death, but you were so gentle and loving, Mark. You've always made love to me like a lover and husband, never treated me like a whore. Of course, you didn't know about that. And so with you I could pretend I was just a regular, normal woman. "A couple of times you wanted to be more … adventurous, like having anal sex, and I just freaked out and stopped you. It made me think of LA again, and what Andy made me do, and I just couldn't handle it. Thank God you were so understanding, and never pushed me. After ten years I thought about Andy and LA less and less, and I thought it was behind me—the shame of it, my being a whore like that. I didn't realize I'd just pushed it all down deep inside so I didn't have to look at it. "Six months ago Andy called me out of the blue. He'd moved to Cincinnati, and by complete chance he saw my picture in the paper for that article they did on TV stations and community service. He knew right away it was me, even though the article used my married name, and he called me. "It scared me to death to hear his voice. I hung up on him twice, then stopped answering my phone. But he left me a voice-mail message: he had a wonderful videotape I might like to see, and I'd better call him back, because otherwise he might have to show it to some other people, like my husband and my boss. "So I called him. He wanted money, and he wanted to see me again. I knew he had a tape of me with him and Tommy, and I knew he'd send it to you if I didn't meet with him. I didn't know what else to do, Mark. It would have meant the end of my job at the station, but I didn't even care about that. "What I cared about was you. If you knew what a whore I'd been, I'd lose you. "So I played him. I went to his house, knowing he'd want to fuck me first and then demand money from me. Andy always used to fall asleep after we'd had a lot of sex, so I figured I'd make him cum a few times. Once he was asleep nothing would wake him—he could sleep through an earthquake. So I could search his house, and maybe I'd get lucky and find the tape he had of me. "That's just how it happened. I made him cum four times. When he was asleep I looked around and found a whole pile of tapes; there must have been a couple dozen of them, all neatly labeled. I found three copies of the one with me, and a bunch of others with different names on them. "I put them all in a trash bag and left. I drove to a restaurant and dropped the bag into a big dumpster in back that was already half-full of trash. Then I came home and tried to wash the smell of him and the feel of him off me. I must have stood in that shower, crying, for more than an hour. "I really thought I was free of him, Mark. I didn't hear from him again, and then a couple of weeks ago he was killed in an accident. I can't say I was too sorry. "I didn't realize I had anything to worry about until you came home with that tape. Stupid me—I should have figured he'd be taping me again, just like the other time. I don't know how you got it, but it doesn't much matter. "So now you know. He made me a whore. And I played the whore with him one more time, so I would never have to tell you the truth and see the disgust in your eyes. But it didn't work. And now you can go back out the door, and no one will blame you a bit. "Who would want to be married to a woman who did what I did? Got herself pimped out to a stranger by her own boyfriend? Fucked two guys at once? Let them take her in her cunt and her ass at the same time? And get it all recorded in living color?" The Videotape *** *** *** There was silence in the room. I looked over at Margaret, and saw she had been crying. Then I felt the tears on my own cheeks. I expected Amy to be crying too, or glaring defiantly at me, but she was still just staring off into space. I went over, sat on the sofa next to Amy, and gathered her gently into my arms. She looked at me, shocked, and when she saw I was smiling at her she started to cry. I held her, my face pressed into her hair, while she sobbed and shuddered. While I held her, I remembered a conversation we'd had when we were first engaged. I'd told Amy we should talk about our romantic pasts, the people we'd been involved with, and she got a very strange, closed look on her face. "That's all in the past, Mark," she had said firmly. "I don't need or want to know about your girlfriends, and I hope you won't make me talk about … the people I was involved with. Now that I'm with you, and we're so happy, can't we just have a clean slate?" She had looked so intent and serious at that moment that of course I agreed. Now, I understood for the first time what painful experiences she had been shielding me from, and trying to forget herself. After many minutes of crying in my arms, Amy finally calmed down. When she finally turned and looked at me again, I was still smiling. Her face turned hard, and she angrily smacked me on the arm with her fist. "OK, Mark, you've done your duty. You've listened to my story, you've let me have a good cry, you've played the loving husband one last time—now go. Don't make me look at you any more!" "Sorry," I said, still smiling at her. "You're stuck with me." Then I held her as she cried some more. *** *** *** Amy let me take her into the shower, where I lovingly shampooed her hair, washed her all over, then dried her and tucked her into bed. She slept for 13 hours, undoubtedly making up for a few sleepless nights. I called her boss and arranged for some medical leave; then Margaret helped me find a therapist for Amy to see. I was a bit surprised when Amy balked at first, claiming she had nothing to talk about; but between me and Margaret we persuaded her to go. We didn't make love again for nearly two weeks, but every night when we went to bed Amy snuggled up against me as close as possible, as though afraid I might sneak away during the night. Some nights she had bad dreams; once or twice I did. But when one or the other of us came awake with a shudder, frightened, the other was there with soothing words. One Friday evening when I got home from work Amy was nowhere to be found, not in the living room or the kitchen, not in the basement or out in the yard. I searched around, calling for her. When I came into our bedroom she was sitting up in bed, smiling sweetly at me, not a stitch of clothing on. "Honey, it's time," was all she said. Our love-making that night was pure vanilla—and it was the happiest night of my life, or at least tied with the day Amy had agreed to marry me. We were slow and gentle, we kissed and cuddled, murmured love words to one another, and coupled sweetly. After that things got better fast. Amy's therapist helped her understand what had happened in her relationship with Andy, all the ways in which she was not a guilty party but a victim. And she began to see that it was OK to be a fully sexual person, to let herself enjoy things beyond the "vanilla", without feeling like a whore. Once Amy was back at work full-time, after about three weeks, life began to feel more normal for both of us. With each of us busy at our jobs, the focus wasn't exclusively, and painfully, on our marital and sexual troubles. We shared stories about work, colleagues, plans for the future. We took a long weekend to go hiking and canoeing. We cooked some good dinners, and got together more often with friends. It was a while after that before we felt we were all the way back. But I knew for certain we were getting there one Saturday morning. I was vaguely aware of Amy leaving the bed early, but I fell back asleep. An hour later she gently shook me awake, smiling broadly. I sat up and looked around the bedroom. There on a tray was breakfast in bed: toast, bacon, juice, and coffee. And sitting out on the night table were a pink vibrator and a bottle of lube. I looked over at Amy, my eyebrows raised. She grinned back. "I thought we could have some breakfast first, then stay in and play this morning. There are some things we've never done together that I'd like to try with you. How does that sound?" I kissed her hard, and said that it sounded pretty good to me. The Videotape My mother used to tell me to always give men a little mystery if I wanted to keep them around. I didn't understand what she meant until I really started paying attention to boys. She was so right, but despite remembering all of that, Trevor's power over me ruled my actions. It was so difficult to contain my desire that I was sure that he could tell how badly I wanted this moment. My facial expressions were a dead giveaway of my lust for him, and anyone could tell. I felt just like a child about to grab a new toy. My reservations about letting Trevor videotape sex with him were fading fast. I completely ignored the camera that was resting on the countertop aiming at us. At the moment, it seemed fairly harmless. The instant he grabbed the waistband on his sweatpants, and pulled them down to his ankles, the good girl inside of me vanished. T's massive cock dangled inches before my face. He stood there with his legs slightly apart so that I could see his heavy balls swinging with each body motion. Instinctively, I slid my hand up to his crotch, wrapping my fingers around them and gently lifting both to feel their weight. I released them for a moment, sliding my fingers up, parting his cheeks enough to glide my middle finger over his asshole. I didn't force it into him, but just slid over it, feeling it clench down in response to me being where I shouldn't be. I resumed my gentle grip on his balls, pulling them forward to kiss them. My other hand involuntarily encircled his cock at the base, and I began stroking it. He was so big that my small hand didn't even reach around it completely. I slid the tip of my tongue up from his balls, up the base of his cock, leaving a glistening trail of my saliva behind. I continued all the way up his length until reaching underneath the head. As I traveled up the tip, his cock welcomed me with a dollop of sweet, clear fluid. Moving my face back a moment, I slowly pulled on his cock towards the head in one motion with both hands. Not even half way up, his precum began pouring out and running down the shaft to my hands. I looked up at Trevor with my devious grin, before closing my eyes, and leaning forward. I placed my lips around the head, sealing it in my mouth. I could taste the sweet liquid on my tongue, and began sucking harder and harder to get all of it. I was so wet by then that I could feel how soaked my panties were with my own juices. Of course, T was enjoying this, but he had no idea how erotic it was for me, and how sexually charged I felt giving him head while I was fully clothed before him. I was overcome with my emotions and desire, empowered by having control over him, to the point of forgetting that we were being recorded on video. I gently masturbated him with both hands, while pulling as much of his big cock into my mouth as I could. As it went in and out of my mouth, I rotated my head side to side in a rhythm that was beginning to make T moan. I pulled away for a moment, looking up at his face, but continued to tug at his cock. "Like that baby?" I asked jokingly, looking up at him with my big brown eyes. Trevor only nodded and gestured slightly with his face. He was totally focused on my efforts, and didn't bother to respond. I had absolute control over him, for the moment; a feeling that charged the hell out of me. I quickly swallowed his cock again, resuming my stroking motions with increasing vigor. T gently rocked back and forth matching the pace of my sucking rhythm. I let go of his cock, and held on to his hips with both hands, pulling him deeper into my throat. With all of his slippery precum and my saliva, the tip of his penis was sliding against the roof of my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat. I tried with each stroke downward to consume more and more of his length until I was able to rest my lips against his pubic hair. I had such determination to get to that point that my gag reflex had gone away. I felt elated that I had conquered his giant cock. I really had forgotten about the camera resting on the counter a few feet away from us. Trevor knew that the further away it was, the less I would notice; it worked. On one stroke down onto his penis, I kept him in my throat and turned my head slightly towards the lens, and opened my eyes. I had ignored it until then. Keeping one hand gripping his pelvis, I reached the other up to his now tightened balls. I cupped them, and pulled gently towards my face until squashing them against my chin. I remained still for a moment moving only my tongue underneath his cock inside of my mouth, and flexing the muscles in my throat around the head. As I turned back towards him again, his big cock spasmed. It was incredible. I felt his whole cock expanding in my mouth while it pulsed. Obviously, I was headed in the right direction with my efforts. When the base of his penis pumped down on my lip, I let out a gratifying moan. It wasn't very loud, and Trevor might not have heard me, but it got me even hotter sensing that his orgasm was close. I began intensifying my actions. I was really making love to his cock, thinking of nothing else but making him cum. I slipped both hands through his legs under him, gliding up his ass, and grabbing a hold of each cheek. I yanked his pelvis towards myself, and began taking his penis in and out of my mouth. Trevor placed his hands at the back of my head, and with my help, began gently fucking my mouth. If I had touched myself for only a second, I would have had a massive orgasm. I was so turned on by T taking control of me, and using my throat as a pussy, that I couldn't wait for him to let go. I wanted his cum badly. My eyes were tearing, and my mascara was starting to run down my face. T was fucking my mouth faster and harder. His breaths were rapid and erratic. He was about to orgasm. I returned my hands to the base of his cock, and his balls. Precum was running out of the tip, and I was gulping all of it down. "Oh yeah baby, I'm cum'n now!" "I'm cum'n!" "Hea goes!" T pumped in and out of my mouth a couple more times, and then pulled back from my face. I pulled his balls forward, and stroked his cock feverishly. As I gazed upward, I saw T's head fall back, so I quickly opened my mouth wide and stuck my tongue out as far as it would go. I felt the muscle under his balls start flexing...pump, pump, pump, and then his sperm began shooting out. The first stream landed on my cheek, but after quickly moving towards him, every squirt after that landed on my tongue, or into my mouth. I wrapped my lips tightly around his cock so I could catch his entire load. It seemed like it would never stop. He kept pumping and pumping, completely filling my mouth with his sperm. After a few moments, I could still feel his shaft contracting from his orgasm, but no more cum was shooting out. My mouthful of semen prevented me from taking his cock in and out of my mouth anymore, so I pulled it in one last time with suction, and then gently pushed him back away from my lips. My hand remained around the base of his cock while I stayed still for a moment staring at his wonderful penis just inches away, quickly thinking of what I was going to do with my huge mouthful of cum. I knew that the right thing to do was swallow it all down, but I was afraid that I'd choke and embarrass myself. Trevor didn't say anything to me. He just looked down and waited for me to spit, or swallow it. I decided to try and get it all down. I closed my eyes, and took a big gulp. All of it went down in one swallow, without any gagging or anything. I felt like a pro. I pulled his cock into my mouth again, keeping only the head within my lips. Pulling him in with my tongue and cheeks, I vacuumed any semen left over, and swallowed it down. Not a drop left my lips. "Now that's fuck'n awesome." He said, with his hands still around the back of my head. "I loved it baby!" I replied with a big smile. Trevor let go of my hair, and I released my grip from his hips. He took one step back, and dropped onto the sofa. I got off of my knees and went over to the camera to stop it, but instead decided to take a close up shot of T's cock. I stepped over to the couch with the camera, and zoomed onto his big penis. "Now that's what I call a big dick!" I blurted out. "Just take a look at that monster!" I said, reaching my hand out and grabbing a hold of his balls. "And all that yummy cream is in my tummy now!" I said laughing. "Bye, see you next time!" I announced as I pressed stop on the camera. Trevor remained on the sofa, arms back with his head resting in his hands. His legs were apart, and his cock draped down onto one leg. I walked back to where the camera was before, and set it down beside the TV on the counter. "I want to watch the video!" I announced. "You have the connection for this, right?" "Yup. I have it. It's is the middle drawer." He answered. "Amy, you really wanna watch it, huh girl?" "I know you like work'n my dick." "You know I do! C'mon, let's watch it." I replied. So he got up and plugged in the camera, and connected it to the TV. I sat back down on the sofa, and T sat next to me. The camera was focused perfectly waist- high, and anyone who ever saw this would know it was me blowing some black guy, so I really hoped no one would. Trevor said he would hand it over to me, so only I would have the tape. That's probably the main reason I actually allowed it. I looked pretty good on video, even though it wasn't glamorous, to say the least. My hair was pretty, and at least in the beginning, my makeup was perfect. It wasn't until T began grabbing my head, pulling my hair, and fucking my mouth roughly, that my tears made my mascara run down my face. We watched the video from the sofa, and just before Trevor started cumming in the video, I got horny and proceeded to stroke his cock again. I wanted him to fuck the daylight out of me. While the tape played, I got back onto the carpet between his legs, and sucked his cock again. It was a real turn-on hearing him and me in the background, while his penis probed my mouth. I bobbed up and down furiously, getting him rock hard and ready to pound my pussy. It wasn't but a few minutes until he pulled my head away from his cock, and pushed me aside to get up. Trevor pulled me up from the floor and we French kissed while we embraced one another. Instinctively, I grabbed his cock and stroked it. T held my top, and with my help, pulled it up and off of me, exposing my perky bra-less breasts. Trevor quickly unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down to my ankles. As I stepped out of them, he was already pulling my panties down as well. The moment I lifted my leg to step out of my panties, Trevor got down on his knees, and held my leg up, while shoving his face in between my legs. He stuck his long tongue right between my lips and into my pussy, and my wetness coated his face. "Oh my god baby, just like that!" I hollered. "God, please don't stop!" Trevor darted his tongue about, exactly how I loved it. He knew just how far to take me, and brought me to the point of orgasm. He was a real man, no doubt about it, but he had his devilish side and showed it often. "That's it baby, like that, like that, oh yes!" I moaned out loud. Just at the moment before I was going to cum, he stopped. I hated when he did that. Trevor had no problem emptying himself into my mouth, but when it was my turn, he halted everything, because he liked it better when I orgasmed as he fucked me. I thought he was incredibly selfish for doing that, but naturally, I let him have his way. I needed to cum so badly. I lay back onto the sofa cushion, and opened my legs wide for him. T pushed my legs up in the air and moved between them. Everything was really wet and lubricated, so his big cock squished deep into me on his first thrust. T was really pounding me hard, and I loved it. I kind of like it when guys are rough with me; It turned me on like crazy. Trevor was a really well built and very handsome. I got wet with excitement seeing him lifting weights at the gym, and I'm sure he had that effect on lots of women. Too bad for the other girls though, because for now, he was fucking me. Trevor was smashing into me, and my body shuddered on each contact. My breasts were bouncing all over the place. His long and wide cock was pumping in and out faster and harder, and I responded with an encouraging "Harder baby! Fuck me harder!"which he definitely enjoyed hearing. I grabbed a hold of both of my boobs, pinching my nipples, and prepared for my orgasm. Like being electrocuted, my entire body convulsed and shivered with intense pleasure. When T made me cum, it was like the best one I ever had each time. He kept on fucking me like a freight train, as I yelled and hollered right through it. His continued stimulation just kept me cumming longer. I think I kept cumming until he did. Trevor slammed into me, burying his wonderful cock as deep as it would go, and came inside me. My pussy was still contracting around his shaft, exactly why he waited for me to cum with him. He loved the extra tightness he'd feel while I orgasmed on his cock. Trevor left himself deep inside of me until he was finished cumming, and my body stopped quivering. Every muscle was relaxed, as I lay there exhausted. T backed out of me leaving my stretched out pussy sopping wet with his sperm. I watched him stand up, and walk into another room, leaving me laying there. I passed out right there, feeling so satisfied that I didn't move. I just about always fall asleep after I have big orgasms. I'm so drained that I can't stay awake. T knew this, so he left me for a while, mostly to let himself recharge, I'm certain. The next thing I remember is opening my eyes, and feeling Trevor on top of me again, sliding in and out of my still gushing pussy. He started fucking me while I was sleeping, not a terrible way to wake up, however. I resumed my hold on his ass, as he was lying on top of me using only his hips to move his cock in and out. I liked it when he was upward, slamming himself into me, but laying on me, our bodies tightly together as he fucked me gently, really drove me wild. We did it in that position for a while, and then T pulled out, and turned me face down. I slid off of the sofa, and then lay down on the cushion, with my knees on the carpet. T got down on his knees behind me, spread my legs apart, and then pressed his cock into me again. He was able to go so deep in that position, I thought his cock was inside of my uterus. I reached down between my legs to masturbate, and felt his big balls continually smashing into my hand. The harder he slammed into me, the faster I rubbed my clit. "Oh God!" I yelled into the cushion. "Fuck me! Fuck me! " and some random nonsense was all I could get out while T pummeled me. "Here it comes baby!" is what I recall hearing as T was ready to cum. I brought myself to orgasm immediately upon hearing him. He increased his pace, sliding in and out faster from my orgasming little pussy, and then pulled out. Trevor jerked his cock, and started shooting his cum onto my back. I felt it landing all the way to my neck, as he squirted over and over. My entire body was coated with his cum. I still had my hand under myself rubbing my pussy, trying to prolong that wonderful feeling for as long as I could. Trevor was laughing, and I started to also. It was just funny each time he'd do that to me. His cum was everywhere, and looked like he watered the lawn. He sprayed every inch of my back with his cum. T got up and onto the sofa on his knees. I picked myself up, sliding over to him, reaching up to grab his cock. "Now where do ya think you're going?" I asked. "Here, let me fix this for you." I said quietly as I pulled his cock towards my mouth, and then giving it a big lick to wipe off the cum still leaking from the head. I sucked hard to get it all out, and then swallowed, letting go with a pop sound from my lips. "Mmm. All better now!" I said licking my lips as I lay back down, carrying a big grin on my face. All guys like it when you do that, so I always did. Trevor got off of the sofa, and put his clothes back on. I badly needed a shower, so I got up and headed for his bathroom. I turned on the water and grabbed a towel, and then while I waited for the water to warm up, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a whore with my mascara running down my cheeks. I started thinking about what I just had done. Anxiety began to set in, as I thought about that video tape. I thought about it getting out, and people I knew seeing me on there. It was driving me crazy, so I strutted out to the living room quickly, and got a hold of the camera. It was still plugged in, and the TV still had a blue screen, because it was at the end of the tape. I'm not very good with electronic gadgets, but I managed to rewind the video, and followed the directions to record over our recording. I was satisfied that it was gone, and I wasn't so nervous anymore. After my shower, I wrapped a towel around my hair, and went back out to the living room to pick up my clothes. T was gone. He left me a note on the sofa, telling me he loved me, and that he had a great time, and he'd see me later. I needed that, because after what just took place, I felt really used. He loved me, and that's what I wanted to hear. I put my clothes on and left his place, and went to grab something to eat. On the way, I called my friend Kelly, and told her what had happened. She had done that same thing herself, but never told me as she was embarrassed too. She said her ex had taped them while they were dating, and that he had told her he erased their video. When they broke up, he mentioned that he still had a tape of them, and she was terrified. She thought that it was gone, and now he had something to hold over her, if he wanted to use it. Kelly said he hasn't ever done anything, to her knowledge, and it's been a few years, but it is always in the back of her mind. This brought my anxiety back again, despite knowing that I, myself, erased the recording. At least I was pretty certain that I had. I planned on trying it again, when I saw Trevor later on that night. I would make sure that it was totally erased, and put my mind at ease for good. This wasn't something that I was ever going to do again. It was kind of fun at that moment, but I didn't want it lingering over me for the rest of my life. As I ate my lunch, a couple sat next to me, and was holding hands at the table. It was a very attractive blonde woman wearing a beautiful, tight black dress. She had on these really pretty pumps, with big blocky platform heels. Holding her hand was a black guy wearing a suit and tie. He was handsome, and in great shape, like Trevor. I started picturing them having sex, and I imagined it like I was watching a video of them on TV. She was basically me in the video, doing just what I had done. Obviously, this was going to bother me until I saw T later. I had to make sure that I had erased that recording, should anything ever happen to Trevor and I. I erased it, but what if Trevor had made a copy while I was sleeping. God, my mother would never forgive me if she saw that video. The Videotape He could dimly hear Arrella crying out loud behind Jill as she knelt astride him on the couch and kissed him urgently, demandingly, her tongue pushing into his mouth almost violently. And then a new hand grabbed his cock and a new mouth closed over it, even as Jill gasped directly into his mouth. He eased his head aside, looked down and saw that Annette had started sucking him and just inches from her head, Arrella had eased aside Jill's bikini bottom and slipped two fingers into her pussy and was even now nibbling on her shoulder. Every few seconds, Annette left his cock and tasted Jill's juices, before returning to him. And suddenly, Jill was right on the edge of orgasm and she reached down, took his cock from Annette and guided it to her pussy. When she sank down onto him, he cried out loud in shock and surprise as the heat and pleasure fired through his body and even as he was aware of releasing his own load, he could hear Jill crying her own orgasm directly into her ear. She continued to rise and fall on his cock for a few seconds until he almost passed out from the intensity of the sensation and then eventually she collapsed limply on top of him. Annette's hand closed round his balls and played with them for a few moments, while his cock subsided inside Jill's pussy. As Jill, Ian and Arrella collapsed onto the couch, Annette stood up in front of them and finally stripped off her shorts and t-shirt, before smiling and turning back to the TV and video recorder. "Any objections to us watching the tape now, Ian?" she said and slotted it back in. She walked back to the couch and pushed and shoved until she could find a place to sit between Ian and Jill and then started to unashamedly play with herself as she watched the tape. Ian smiled, reached out and cupped one of her breasts, then closed a hand over her shoulder and traced her arm down to her hand, down to her fingertips, down to her pussy. "Arrella," he said, but she needed no further instruction and slipped to the floor between Annette's legs. Jill moved closer and started caressing Annette and Annette's hand found Ian's cock once more and softly stroked it back into life. As they gradually descended into a bundle of sweaty, intertwined limbs, the last coherent sentence to come from any of them was Annette saying how much she loved to be last.