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Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 01

By: adoration



I had moved into the exclusive Beverly Hills area after a particularly messy divorce from my husband of 10 years. He was an extremely wealthy lawyer and as with so many extremely wealthy lawyers, his circle of social friends comprised of lots of other extremely wealthy lawyers.

Several of them had offered to represent me in the case – some because I'm darned sure they wanted to get into my panties – so I had no shortage of excellent legal advice. The upshot was I got a nice $550,000 annuity, this sumptuous villa in Beverly Hills and a snazzy little Mercedes which I drive too fast for comfort, but not too fast for safety.

I moved into the place during the height of summer – well, it's nearly summer all year round in La La Land as I call Los Angeles - and one of the first really warm week-ends, I lay out on a lounger by poolside. OK, I may be 40-years of old age, but I have kept my figure in what I hope is excellent shape.

I'm almost five feet 10 inches tall, and when I'm wearing my high heels I can look most men in the eye. As the man who represented me in court said: "Sharon, wear flats to court, judges hate women who they know they have to look up to, it unsettles them."

So here I was, 40, an age that almost matched my bust measurement – which is 39, but it's a damned firm 39, and it's entirely natural. I've got a slim 25-inch waist, I hit the tape at 37 inches around my hips and I've legs that honest-to-god go on forever. My tan's not bad, either. Shit, if I was someone else, I'd fancy me!

Oh, I'm not a blonde, either, despite that last crack! My hair's jet-black, thanks to the bottle I use. No hair down, there, of course.

Anyway, that's set the scene. Now I'm outside lying by the pool and I've got these Gucci shades on, so you can't tell where I'm looking, when I glance across at the house next door. Another mini-Buckingham Palace. There, in an upstairs window, I saw a flicker of a blind. Now a wink is as good as a nod to a blind horse, as they say, but I knew I was being perved. And good on 'em, I thought. This is a body that's worth perving on, like I said.

So I stretched my thighs a little wider – I was lying facing directly towards the "peeper" – and ran a finger across my crotch. I was wearing a scanty little bikini, in fact the term bikini didn't do the garment justice. It was scandalously brief, just mere strips of material, and made of a sort of metallic green lycra. It shone in the sun. I knew it made me look sensational.

After a minute or two I had a plan, but I lay back for a few more minutes, letting the sun warm me as I lay, my body glistening from the liberal application of Piz Buin I'd put on before venturing outside.

Then, splaying my thighs wide, as I swung a leg over onto the tiles, I got up, stretched my arms above my head, which I knew threw my breasts into brilliant uplift, and turned to walk slowly inside. My ass cheeks were totally on display for whoever was perving on me, just this little piece of dental floss running through the crack.

Inside the house, I dashed upstairs and got out my trusty video camera, took it into a side room and placed it on the tripod. I placed the lens between two heavy drape curtains – horrid things I intended to get rid of as soon as I could, but which now served as perfect camouflage for the camera.

Looking through the range finder, I focused it on the window where I knew my peeper had been standing and flicked on the record button. The tape was a 90-minute job, which I hoped would be long enough. Then I returned to the sun lounger, walking slowly, swaying my hips in my high heels in what I hoped was a "come hither" signal.

And then I didn't even both to look up at the window, I let things run their course. If the peeper was at work I knew I'd catch it on the videotape, if he wasn't, then what the hell, there's always tomorrow.

I lay back toasting in the wonderful Californian sun, occasionally flicking my short hair, which came to just above my shoulders, in what I hoped would be an eye-catching performance. Every now and then, I'd trace a finger over the gusset of the little thong, feeling a squelch down there as I knew I would. I was enjoying myself!

After 25 minutes or so, I turned over on my tummy, reached behind my back and hauled off the little garment which only just covered my nipples. I threw it lazily on the poolside tiles and widened my thighs a little. If I'd gone any further I'd have sat up and yelled out "Get an eyeful of this, Mr Peeper", but I played the lady! Ha.

I baked in the lovely sunshine, then checked my Rolex, so thoughtfully purchased for me by Mr Shithead after he'd won a big celebrity stalker case for some Hollywood trollop. It was just gone midday and I was thirsty. So I stood up, turned so my body was facing the peeper's window and leaned over to pick up the thing the bikini designer laughingly referred to as a "bra". I knew my big knockers would have hung and swayed seductively as I did, but I didn't even give the peeper's position a glance.

Inside, I mixed myself a fucking big margarita. Too much salt in that kind of concoction, I know, but what the hell, I'd exercise it all off in the morning. Then I strolled upstairs, thong and high heels the only things on my lush body – fuck, it feels sexy walking around like that!

In the side bedroom, I picked the recorder off its tripod, saw that 55 minutes of tape had been used up, switched it off, and went downstairs to transfer it onto a commercial VHS tape. I sipped on the margarita, waiting for the infernal machine to do its copying, then eagerly snatched it out of the VCR slot, placed a label on it and used a black marker pen to print the words "The Peeper" on the label.

Shoving the tape into the machine, I then sat back on the long leather couch, feeling my lotion-smeared back slithering on the gleaming black of the couch. Then I pressed the play button and waited to see what would develop.

Well, for five minutes, what developed was sweet fuck all. I had fast forwarded a picture of a next door neighbour's upper bedroom window – had I wasted 55 minutes of recording for nothing?

NO! Suddenly, appearing between two almost tightly-shut curtains came something that I hoped I would see – an erect cock! It was quite a nice cock, too. I reckoned it was in excess of seven inches, the way the fist grasping the shaft at the end nearest the pubic bone, revealed at least four inches above it to the cock's helmet, or so I reckoned. The hand was pumping very slowly, the uncut head of the cock was leaking pre-cum, the full flesh there occasionally being pulled back to reveal the little piss-spunk slit. So pretty!

Then, the curtains parted slightly and I could see that my Peeping Tom was apparently naked, his flat belly sun-tanned and shiny, his pectorals quite pronounced. Suddenly I could make out why the curtains had moved apart – I had, at first, thought it was a light breeze that had done it, but no, the filthy fucking pervert was filming me!

There, held against my peeper's face, one eye screwed against the viewing aperture, was an expensive-looking little video camcorder. And as he filmed me, his hand was working slightly more quickly over his glistening shaft.

Despite the fact that I was watching a video of a Peeping Tom videoing me displaying myself down by my pool on my lounger I was hugely aroused – oh, OK, "because" I was watching it, I was aroused, I admit it.

The peeper obviously felt his climax nearing, because he put the camera down and then did something I've never seen before. As he came, or just on the point of ejaculation, my next door neighbour put the fingers of his non-masturbation hand around the lips of his foreskin, and that way he trapped his semen up there as he came. The foreskin swelled, containing as it did, his spunk. Then he was gone.

I fast forwarded for a minute or so, then he was back "on watch", as it were, his cock still thick and heavy but now pointing southwards, lying over his heavy ball sac. But now he had resumed filming, the lovely, filthy old pervert!

I say "old" because my next door neighbour was Zack Zachary, known to everyone in Hollywood as ZeeZee, a 55-year-old "mogul" – everyone in Hollywood calls someone who is important but doesn't have a clue what they do "a mogul". Everyone knew ZeeZee was big in the business, but no one knew exactly what he did.

ZeeZee and his wife, a former lingerie model named Stella, who was 15 years younger than him, had introduced themselves to me when I had moved in. They had brought around a huge iced cake as big as a television set and a couple of bottles of Lanson Perrier champagne as house warming gifts.

I had liked the look of ZeeZee – he was tall, tanned, toned and with very black hair except at the temples where he was a trendy and distinguished grey. But the look of Stella I liked even more!

As a former lingerie model you'd expect her to be attractive, and she was – long, blonde hair cascaded almost to the tops of her lush, large breasts. She had blue eyes, almost green, a figure that was fully-breasted, superbly buttocked and she looked about 25, the bitch, even though she told me she was 40! Oh, another thing – I've told you I was tall. Well, Stella was taller! Like I said, the bitch!

And talking about "liking" there was another member of the family. ZeeZee was onto his third marriage, but he'd had only one child, a daughter, from his first. She was named Stazee, which I think is an awful name, but believe me, it's the only thing about Stazee that's awful.

Stazee, who lived with her pop and stepmom, was 18, with corn gold long blonde hair, she spent so much time out tanning her glorious little body in the Californian sun she was almost silvery grey in the hair department.

She was much shorter than her stepmom, or me, for that matter. But she had a lovely, tight, hard-toned little teenager's body, one that simply spelled out – to men and to women – that "This body is made for sex!" To make up for her lack of height – a height that hit the tape at 5 feet 2 inches – she wore these ludicrously high-heeled shoes with sort of high wedges beneath the soles. They forced her to walk in a sort of exaggerated model's strut and the things they did to her deportment you had to see to believe. The way her ass wiggled was a sex maniac's delight – and I'm referring to sex maniacs of both sexes.

By now, you will have arrived at the fact that when it comes to sex, I'm a switch hitter. I'm like Mickey Mantle – happy either side of the plate! Although, if the truth be known, I think I may prefer the fairer sex. Men are always walking around looking at women thinking "Yes, I could fuck that, yes I could fuck that, yes, I could ..." – well, you get the point.

On the other hand, women are so much more fussy in their choice of sex partner. I was fussy, too. As soon as I set eyes on Stella and Stazee I knew I had to have them, the only question was "How?"

Well, the best way would be to start with the father, I reckoned. And that shouldn't be too difficult, after all I had video evidence of him standing at a bedroom window masturbating while perving on my lush body. I decided to swing into action.

When ZeeZee and Stella had visited, they had thoughtfully left me with their unlisted number, as neighbours do, even in Beverly Hills. I dialled it – while freeze framing a picture of ZeeZee's hand working on his erection was up on screen, all pink and inviting!

"Hi, this is ZeeZee," came a deep, masculine voice.

"Hi, Zee," I said, deliberately refraining from using his Hollywood appellation, "this is Sharon next door. I was wondering whether you and your wife would like to come around this afternoon for some drinks poolside, I was planning on having a barbecue, steak, chorizos, some nice wine. What do you say?"

"Well that's a charming invitation, Sharon," said the Hollywood "mogul", "but I'm afraid Stella's gone to visit her mom in San Francisco this week-end and taken Stazee with her. But if you promise not to get me drunk, I'd love to take you up on your offer."

Perfect!

"I look forward to seeing you – oh, bring something to swim in, we can have a dip, it's such a lovely day," I said.

"I'm almost into them now – what time?" he asked, his voice almost panting with lust, shit this was going to be easy!

"Well how's the old saying go, ZeeZee?" I said, playing up to him now, "there's no time like the present. Shall I mix you a margarita?"

"I'll be there in 10 minutes," he said, and I could picture him stroking his cock as he spoke.

I dashed upstairs and removed my thong – no point in getting him too flustered - and pulled on a classic one-piece, cut high on my hips, which showed plenty of cleavage but also looked stunning, black and gleaming. The rear end was not exactly thong-style, but was cut in a brief design which allowed the lower halves of my buttocks to display themselves. And very kissable too, even if I do say so myself.

Pulling on my high heels, I ran back down to the massive kitchen and prepared two more margaritas. I'd hardly finished than the fucking stupid chimes rang – California Dreaming, or some such nonsense, shit I had to get that chime changed!

There, standing on the doorstep with a stupid grin was Mr Peeper, a dazzling white Ralph Lauren Polo shirt on, dazzling white Polo shorts, trendily scruffy, scuffed boat shoes and holding a bottle of bubbly. "A gift for you, madame," he said, in an affected accent, thrusting a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon into my hand.

"Enchante," I said, in my awful French accent, and I stepped back to let him in.

Outside, by the pool, sipping our margaritas I could see ZeeZee was hot to trot. I decided to heat him up a bit more. "It's so warm, ZeeZee," I purred, "why not get out of those shorts and shirt, cool down a little."

He stood, quickly, eagerly, and stepped out of his clothes, but kept his scuffed shoes on. He was clad in an extremely tight fitting thong, made of light blue satin. It clung almost like a second skin to a cock and balls that I'd got a very good video of. Not that he was going to find that out for a while!

"Oh fuck," I said, deliberately sounding coarse, "I just love a man in a thong – you know I love the way they show off a man's buttocks. Turn round, let me see."

The vain old idiot did so, presenting me with what, to be honest, was a delicious pair of ass cheeks, tanned superbly brown, offset just below the small of his back by a light blue triangle of shiny material.

Then he sat on a lounger. I could see his crotch region was swelling, he was so turned on.

I turned up the heat another notch. "Oh heavens, ZeeZee," I told him, almost batting my eyelashes, I swear, "that's such a great ass you've got there. You know what I think when I see an ass like that?"

ZeeZee swallowed a big gulp of margarita. "Er no, what's that Sharon?" he asked, nervous as hell.

"I think of a spanking – oh, nothing too strict, just a nice mild, erotic spanking," I said, as I detected a glimmer of lust flickering across his face.

"Yep, love a man in a thong," I pressed on, "because I always check out his buttocks second."


ZeeZee looked at me – he was almost panting – and gulped: "And what's the first thing you check out, Sharon?"

"Well, something in the front," I said.

"Er, you mean, you mean?" he swallowed, then I put him out of his misery.

"That's right, Zee," I said, going back to the diminutive of his stupid nickname, "his face!"

He had the good grace to laugh, then I suggested a dip. "It's so darned hot, Zee," I said, "like to cool down?"

And with that I stood, kicked off my high heels, walked to the deep end and did an almost perfect swallow dive into the blue water. As I swam a length, I saw him kick off his boat shoes, walk to the steps and gingerly walk into the water before breast-stroking his way to where I had completed my lap – this man was no swimmer!

"This is lovely," he said, as we bobbed in the more shallow end, "and you look lovely in that swimsuit."

"This old thing," I said, teasingly, thrusting my ample charms forward. "It's so old, but I love wearing it for swimming – but I've got far more revealing things for when I sunbathe, Zee," I told him.

"Goddam," he said, "I'd love to see you in an outfit that's more revealing."

I grinned, one of those "I know what you'd fucking love, you old pervert you" looks and said calmly: "One day I'll give you a display, lie out on my lounger in one of my dental floss creations, really give you an eyeful, eh?"

I swear I thought he was going to choke, but he swallowed deeply, took a huge breath, said "I'll do a lap" and plunged off towards the deep end, wallowing like a baby whale, only nowhere near as graceful.

The afternoon we spent enjoying small talk. He told me about his ex-wives – both grade A bitches, apparently, how Stella was the only woman for him, never laid eyes on another woman since he was married, that kinda crap. And he said that last bit with a straight face, the asshole!

I told him all about Mr Shithead, how I'd done very nicely thank-you out of the divorce, and how I'd heard ZeeZee was a Hollywood big shot. "And what is it you are in Hollywood, exactly, Zee?" I asked, as we lay, our bodies glistening in the sun.

He smiled, coyly. "I'm an executive producer," he announced, "and you don't want to know what executive producers do."

I shut him up pretty promptly, then. "You're right, Zee," I said, "I don't. Let's fire up that barbecue and you can burn some meat, while I open up a nice bottle of French red."

The thong-clad "stud" pulled on his shirt and shorts, cooked two massive T-bones and four chorizos, while I ripped the cork out of a bottle of something called St Emlion, which meant nothing to me, apart from the fact that its case price meant each bottle worked out at a cool $75. Since I know little about wine, I hoped that meant it was an improvement on mouthwash.

We dined on the T-bones and a green salad, washed down by the St Emlion – which was better than mouthwash, though not $75 better, if you ask me. I told you I know little about wine.

The evening was approaching, and now was time to lower the boom on the old fucker!

"I'm going to change," I said, "how's about going into the entertainment room, there's something I want to show you."

ZeeZee almost sprinted inside, while I went back up to my bedroom, peeled off my T-shirt, shorts, bra and panties and put on the tiny little green creation I'd been wearing that morning.

I put my high heels on and walked slowly down to the entertainment room, with the big TV screen, an ostentatiously large thing. I had already put the incriminating tape in the VCR, all I had to do was press the play button.

When I walked in, ZeeZee was seated on a long leather couch. As I entered, he stood up in a hurry – and honest-to-god I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his skull!

"Like my outfit, Zee?" I said, swirling around, displaying my near-nude body to his lusting gaze.

"It's absolutely stunning," he gasped, breathing heavily and made to move towards me.

I pushed a manicured fingernail against his Polo shirt and thrust him back onto the couch. "Down tiger," I said, almost sneering, "time for that later – much later."

He pouted but settled back on the couch. I walked over to an easy chair off to one side of the couch, making sure he got a great glimpse of my ass as I swung in front of him then perched on the seat, hands clasped together on my knees, leaning forward to show off my hardly-covered breasts. His eyes were still popping.

"Right, Zee," I said, "we're going to play a little game, a game like we used to play when we were kids." He made as if to interrupt, but I put one finger to my lips, in a silent "Shush" signal.


Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 01



"Remember the game? What was it called?" I teased. "Oh, I remember – something along the lines 'You show me yours, I'll show you mine'. That's it, you show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"My what?" he said, in an almost blustering tone which may have worked well in his fucking studio office but cut no ice with me.

"Your fucking videotape, Zee," I snapped.

I saw the awful realisation flood across his face, but then I again gave him the silent "Shush" and pressed the play button. The upstairs window on the side of his home came into view. I'd fast forwarded to a relevant point. Up on the screen came a giant image of his cock, his fingers sliding up and down the shaft, pre-cum oozing from his helmet, gleaming down his erection.

"It's what they call in Hollywood a 'sneak' preview, isn't it, Zee?" I asked him. Then I hit the pause button, revealing a frozen picture of his cock, a little glob of pre-cum falling from his hood.

"Now, before we play the rest, you go back home, fetch the videotape you made of me and get back here, pronto, Zee," I snapped, my voice brooking no defiance.

I'll give him his due. He made absolutely no pretence, no "I don't know what you're talking about" nonsense, but he wasn't giving in lightly.

"OK, it's blackmail, is it Sharon?" he smiled. "Well, I'll have you run out of this fucking town."

Nice try, but, as they say, no cigar.

"For starters, my dear Zee, it's not blackmail," I informed him. "And for seconds, if you dare think you're going to 'run me out of this fucking town' as you so quaintly put it, I've got so many high-powered lawyer friends your ass won't hit the ground if I decide to play rough.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do. On Monday, you're taking me to lunch in that swanky restaurant up in the Valley that's been getting the rave reviews, I'm sure you know it.

"After lunch we're going to a motel room I've already booked up there and we're going find better things to do with that piece of meat than standing at a bedroom window and stroking it while perving on your next door neighbour.

"Now get that fucking tape."

Suddenly he caved in. He nodded his head, glanced at the freeze framed shot of his massive cock on the screen, then almost sprinted from the house.

I went to the drinks cabinet and poured him a big balloon of brandy and waited. It was true about the restaurant – I'd already booked lunch for 12.30 on Monday afternoon, but I was going to have to check out the available motels in the area.

ZeeZee came back, panting, holding a cassette in his hand. He handed it silently to me, then spotted the balloon of brandy and walked firmly to it, and drained it in one gulp.

"There's a good boy," I said, reassuringly. "Now, let's watch the first tape – the one I took of you. Oh, and Zee?"

He looked at me from his position in the center of the couch. "Yes, Sharon?" he replied, his voice soft and low, almost cowed.

"I think it would be nice if you stripped off and masturbated to what we're going to watch. You can stroke yourself while watching yourself stroke yourself, if you get my drift," I laughed.

He looked hesitant, so I went for his jugular. "Out of your fucking clothes," I almost screamed, "and start stroking!"

He nodded, pulled off his Polo shirt, then stepped out of his shorts and kicked off his boat shoes. His cock was jutting hard against the material of his thong.

"Thong off," I snapped, "a thong is clothing in this house."

The thong came off and his cock stood up to attention. The pervert was getting off, bowing to my authority. Great – I simply adore submissives!

"Feet apart, wider," I snapped, stepping from my chair and moving behind him. I traced a palm across his bunched buttocks, they felt fine.

"Very spankable buttocks, Zee," I said, quietly. "You know I'd love to get a paddle to work on them, bring a little red to that delightfully brown tan. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

His reply was husky. "Yes, Sharon, I would."

I grinned. "Thought so," I said, reaching between his thighs and cupping his heavy balls. "Shit, these are heavy, Zee, you got a lot of spunk sitting in there?"

He gulped: "Yes, Sharon, it's because of you. You're so lovely."

I kissed him softly on his left shoulder blade. "Course I am," I said, "and don't you forget it. Now, get wanking."

And as his hand started to work on his stiff shaft, I pressed the pause button to reactivate the tape. It was all there, his masturbating, his filming me as he did so, then putting the camera down and trapping his spunk in his foreskin when he climaxed.

"I've never seen that before, Zee," I told him. "Do you always come like that? Holding the spunk in your foreskin, I mean?"

ZeeZee's body gave a slight shudder as if he was ashamed at the way he came. "No, Sharon," he said in a low voice, "I only did it because I didn't want to mess up in Stazee's bedroom."

My hand fell from his ball sac. "That's disgusting, you perve on me from your own daughter's bedroom?" I said.

"It's got the best view over your pool area," he confessed, in a hushed voice.

I re-wound the tape, then ejected it and picked up his cassette. "Keep stroking!" I commanded, as I pushed his film efforts into the machine.

The video started with me, legs wide apart, stroking myself on the tiny little strip that covered my sex. The camera roamed over my body and I have to admit that, yes, I looked fucking superb!

"Shit, I look good, don't I?" I said, more a comment to myself than to my masturbating next door neighbour.

"You look wonderful, Sharon," said the 55-year-old, in a deep, low voice, his eyes glued to the screen, as the camera roved over my sex trench, my thighs, my breasts.

Then came the bit where I took off the "bra". Again the camera concentrated on my breasts, the nipples thick and engorged.

ZeeZee started to groan – fuck, he was near climax!

"Halt!" I shouted, pressing the "pause" button on the remote controller, and his hand fell from his shaft.

Now to turn the screws. "Right, Monday we'll meet at the restaurant, nice lunch, you're paying. Then to the motel. I've put down a deposit, but you're paying. You will owe me $150. Make sure you've got cash on you, I know you fucking Hollywood types."

I looked at him, cock still waving stiffly in proud erection. "Right, fun's over for tonight," I announced. "Get dressed, get home and don't you dare masturbate between now and Monday afternoon."

He nodded, almost mournfully, I thought. "My tape?" he asked.

"Correction, you perverted old voyeur, Zee," I laughed. "It's my tape now. OK, off you go – and remember, no wanking!"

I walked him to the door, opened it, leaned against him so he could feel the firmness of my breasts against his upper torso and gave him a fleeting kiss full on the mouth. Then he was gone.

Sunday, I had a leisurely breakfast, then drove up into the Valley and entered the restaurant car park. I then drove out, seeking a suitable motel. I came across one a 10-minute drive from the swanky eatery. It had high trees alongside the road, and double parking places beside each unit.

I rang the bell on reception and an oily looking old bastard looked me over, saw money written all over me and smiled, revealing disgusting nicotine-stained teeth.

"I want to look at one of your units," I told him, "the far one. I might want to rent it tomorrow."

He leered as if to say "I know what you're up to, lady" and handed me a key. "Have a good look around," he said, "it's vacant."

It was vacant, it was clean and tidy, and it was the most secluded of the cabins at the motel. It was, therefore, perfect for both my and ZeeZee's needs.

I tossed the key back on the motel's reception desk, told Mr Disgusting Teeth I'd take it, and plumped down $50 to hold it for Monday. "I'll be in an out on Monday morning and afternoon, checking out late on Monday afternoon," I told him.

"You can come and go like a yo-yo, ma'am," he said, "your money is good with me."

I checked in, calling myself Mrs June Smith and giving a fictional address in Carson City.

He barely glanced at the entry, but looked long enough to add, slyly, "Thanks a million, Mrs Smith," he leered, and I left.

Back home in the Hills, I called a man who did – make that still does – a lot of work for my ex, Mr Shithead. "Julio," I told him, "I want to borrow one of your video cameras that can do a good job in a curtained motel room. Can do?"

The eavesdropping expert said "Sure can" and I arranged to meet him at the motel unit at 10 o'clock Monday morning. Things were coming along nicely.

Monday morning, I called ZeeZee at home, just around breakfast. "It's all organised," I told him, "see you at the restaurant at midday. Table's booked in your name. Don't be late, I hate to be kept waiting."

I could almost see his tongue hanging out when he said he had no intention of being late.

I dressed in a gleaming lime green dress, which clung to my figure like a second skin. Beneath it, I wore the same green creation I had when the Hollywood big shot had perved on me. On my feet I slipped a pair of black Manolo Blahnik high heels. I looked worth a million bucks, and fair enough, because I was worth a lot more than that!

Up in the valley, I parked beside the unit I'd chosen, walked to the office where an ugly slattern had replaced Mr Disgusting Teeth – different sex, same teeth. She handed me the key, I handed her the balance of the money.

Soon, Julio arrived in his Dodge Viper, got out carrying a large hat box and we entered the room. Removing the lid of the box he showed me a smart-looking little recording camera. A small hole had been cut in the side of the box to take the lens.

"This'll do the job," said Julio, who had been working on undercover and surveillance equipment for as long as I had been married to Mr Shithead. He replaced the lid, put the box up on a ledge some five feet above the floor, checked the recorder was pointing into the bedroom, then showed me how to operate it.

"See this here tassel leading from the top of the box?" he said. "Inside is a button. Get here before the 'trick', press the button and it'll record everything that goes on in her for three hours."

"Will it make any noise?" I asked, impressed at how simple it was to operate.

"Not a peep," said Julio. "You can play the radio, but not loud, and we'll get every precious word of it as clear as a bell."

"And the picture quality?" I asked, as he fiddled around with the camera.

"You'll have the curtains drawn, I take it?" Julio asked.

"I hadn't planned on displaying myself to half the San Bernardino Valley," I told him.

"Sure," he grinned, "but leave the two lamps going on the bedside tables, that'll give us plenty of light to work with. I can tweak it, if you like, when you've finished shooting."

And then he was gone. I removed my dress, slipped off the thong, then lay back on the bed, gave myself a quick finger fuck, then freshened up for my lunch appointment.

I arrived at the restaurant and the lady carrying menus big enough to print the downtown Los Angeles phone book in, took me to a table against the wall where my lunch date was almost drooling.

"Great outfit," he said, rising as I settled in my seat. I placed my shoulder bag on the table. "Great bag," he said, spotting the Prada insignia.

"There's something inside for you," I said. "Take a peek, but don't remove it unless you want to be embarrassed in front of the rest of the room."


ZeeZee peeked inside the bag and saw my leather paddle. "Oh shit," he said, "that looks great."

"You'll think it's even greater when I lay it across your ass," I promised.

We lunched. He ordered two dry martinis and cracked an old joke. "You know that martinis are like breasts?" he asked.

"How's that?" I asked, allowing him to come out with the old chestnut.

"One's not enough, but three is too many," he smirked.

"That's new," I said, coolly, "never heard that before."

I chose the wine – although I know fuck all about it, as you know, but I looked for the most expensive thing on the menu, a vintage Krug champagne, and picked that. Not because I wanted to, but because I could. ZeeZee didn't turn a hair.

After he'd flashed his black Amex card, I told him to follow well behind me on the way to the motel, gave him the cabin number and said: "Knock on the door five minutes after you get there." I needed time to get undressed and start the videotape – and not in that order.

I got into the room, drew the curtains across, put the bedside lights on, pressed the button hidden in the tassel's handle, then hung my dress in the wardrobe, took the paddle from my bag and waited for him. One minute later, he knocked on the door and I let him in.

"Strip, clothes in the wardrobe, then kneel up on the bed, I want to spank your ass," I told him, going into the "boss bitch" role immediately.

ZeeZee hardly took his eyes off my little green creation as he stripped and when he finally stood nude before me, his eight-inch cock was thick and hard, pointing in the direction of my chin.

"Fuck, Sharon, you look great," he said, with a sort of parched voice.

"Kneel on the bed, facing the wall," I snapped, and the swaying-cocked mogul climbed up on it and pushed his buttocks out to greet my paddling implement.

I kicked off my Manolo Blahniks and knelt alongside him, my breasts facing his side. I took his erection in my right hand and with the paddle in my left hand laid it on his buttocks.

"Now beg me for it, Zee!" I ordered.

"Please spank me, Sharon, I need it," he pleaded.

I started to stroke his cock as I brought the paddle down across both his cheeks with a satisfying "Whommmp".

"That nice, darl?" I inquired, giving him another "Whommmp". 

"It's fantastic," he breathed, as my palm rubbed across the helmet of his hard-on, getting a fair amount of pre-cum on it. I pressed it against his mouth and he licked the creamy substance from me.

"Stella do this to you, baby?" I asked, after giving him another "Whommmp" – shit, I loved the sound it made.

"Hell no," panted ZeeZee, "no fuckin' way. I have to pay for this."

How true, I thought, delivering another cut of the paddle, how true.

"You go to a professional dominatrix?" I asked, waiting with eager anticipation in the quiet of the room.

"Yep," he said, "I go to a big-busted black girl."

"Oh, the old black bitch syndrome," I laughed, giving him another smack. "She sit on your face, Zee?"

"She sure does," he said, "big smelly ass, lush pussy lips, I love it."

This was going so well! 

"I love sitting on a man's face," I told him. "But first he must be spanked!"

"Yeah," said the now-perspiring movie mogul, "give it to me, baby, give it to me."

I did, another dozen or so blows, then I decided to give the camera something else to focus on. Throwing the paddle down on the mattress, I pulled him round until he was facing me.

Taking the "cups", which in reality were just little wisps of material, at my big boobs I pulled them away, revealing my erect nipples to the gaze of his big brown eyes. "Suck 'em, baby, suck 'em," I hissed, and he went to work, his mouth hungrily sucking and licking at the hardness, his hands roaming over my bare buttocks.

As ZeeZee lapped at my breasts, I pulled off the thong, grabbed his cock and placed it against my shaved snatch. "Now fuck me, baby, fuck me," I cried, pushing him onto his back.

ZeeZee's erection was thick and inviting and I turned my back on him, squatted over his cock and positioned myself carefully before sliding down and covering his manhood.

The movie man sat up, cupping my breasts in his hands as I slid up and down on his eight-inch penis. "Fuck this is a great cock," I said, "I bet you use this on the casting couch all the fuckin' time."

He nuzzled his lips against my throat and gave away even more of himself to the sound recorder. "I have to beat 'em off with a stick," he panted, one hand now moving over my mons to tweak my clitoris.

"Yeah, I know," I panted, getting aroused despite myself, "an eight-inch stick, eh Zee?"

"Hey, babe," he said, as if I was accusing him of murder, "can't help it if I'm a babe magnet."

I pulled off him, then and saw the his foreskin had been dragged down to the ring by the tightness of my cunt over his shaft.

I knelt, lowered my breasts and let them flick across his erection, then took him in my mouth – not all of him, just the top half of the shaft. It wasn't too bad, I love the taste of my pussy on a man's cock.

His hand held me down. "That's it baby, suck me, you know what I want," he sighed, laying back and stroking my hair as I worked on his stiffness.

Enough fellatio, I thought, then climbed back on him, this time in the dominant position, so I could kiss him hungrily on the mouth in mock lust. Actually, he wasn't a bad kisser.

Then I raised my breasts so he could suck my nipples as I thrust and bounced to an orgasm. It was OK, I've had better, but I sure as hell have had worse.

When I calmed down – it didn't take too long – I lay beside him, stroking his still rigid cock.

"And how does Mr Movie Mogul enjoy his climax?" I asked, and I fluttered my eyelashes at him, honest to goodness, I swear that's the truth.

"I've got a thing about tit fucks," he said.

Well, surprise, surprise. You'd be amazed – well, perhaps you wouldn't – at the number of men who, when they've seen your superstructure, just drool at the thought of a tit fuck.

I deliberately lay across the bed, so the camera could film his profile as he laid his body onto my upper chest, his cock sliding smoothly between my twin mounds, then started to stroke slickly up and down in the valley.

Soon there was a slick trail of pre-cum smeared between my breasts, then he started to grunt and groan. Next, he levered himself up on his hands and placed his eight-inch ramrod against my lips.

Reluctantly, I opened wide and I'd hardly closed my lips against his throbbing shaft than he'd pumped a glob of spunk into my mouth and down my throat, then another, much smaller shot. Then he was done.

He rolled from me, panting and perspiring. "Shit, Sharon," he gasped, "you're one superb fuck. Thank-you so much."

I swallowed his come down, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks, stud," I said, still playing my part – shit, I deserved a fuckin' Oscar. "You're not so bad yourself.

"Now, you gonna apologise for that blackmail crack on Saturday night?"

"Hell yes," he grinned, "you know I am."

"Good," I said, "now you can give me $200 for this room, take a quick shower and I'll see you later. I'll check us out, OK?"

He nodded and far too quickly, I thought, showered, dressed, pecked me on the cheek, whispered "Same time, same place, next Monday?" and walked to the door.

"Let's not push things, Zee," I warned him. "We'll see how it pans out. You can call me, see how I'm placed."

"Don't keep me in suspense, babe," he almost pleaded. "They way you wield the spanking paddle is so fuckin' brilliant, my buttocks can't wait for more."

"Down, tiger, down," I grinned, pushing him on his chest, "or I'll want to do it to you all over again." Perish the thought.

ZeeZee nodded, then walked out into the blazing sunshine, fired up his sporty little Maserati, and was gone.

I walked into the bathroom, took a mouthwash from my bag and swallowed some down with a glass of water. His semen hadn't been that bad, I'd tasted worse, but it wasn't quite on a par with the Krug, to tell the truth.

Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Fuck, I looked sexy, no wonder he fancied me! Back in the bedroom, I drew the curtains, switched off the bedside lights and walked to the hat box, with its long tassel.

I pressed the button to halt the recording.




Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 01



One down, two to go!

To be continued.



Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 02



I put on a provocatively erotic purple playsuit with tiny strips to cover my nipples and an only slightly wider strip over my sex trench, stepped out onto my poolside deck, arranged a large towel, slipped off my high heels and lay back on the recliner, feeling my nicely tanned body soak up the lovely California sunshine.

On the table next to me I placed a large margarita and my phone. Adjusting my Gucci sunglasses I lay back smugly. My filming of poor old ZeeZee and his spanking and sexual enjoyment of my full, firm, body had been superbly captured on the video Julio had supplied me.

It had arrived by courier just after breakfast, along with a note from Julio himself. "How the fuck could Mr Shithead divorce YOU, you're a star?" I grinned when I read it. Julio was a long-time acquaintance and he knew very well that I now always refer to my ex as "Mr Shithead".

Julio had done a marvellous job. The sound was crisp and clear, all of ZeeZee's sexual desires, all of his carnal lusts, all of his playing around had been captured in crystal-clear volume. All of our frenzied love-making, including his bare-buttocked spanking with my paddle, had been crisply and faithfully caught. Was he in for a surprise!

Just then my reverie of my "performance" in that motel cabin up in the Valley was interrupted by the impatient beep of my phone.

I picked it up and gave my customary response: "This is the number you dialled." I really have to find another line, but it suits me.

I heard a sexy chuckle from my caller. "Hi Sharon, it's Stella here," she told me. My heart skipped a beat – ZeeZee's stunningly tall and attractive wife, the lovely 40-year-old former lingerie model sounded almost as sexy as she looked. And she looked hot, hot, hot.

"Hi Stella," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, but feeling a tingle of excitement running through my crotch.

"That's a wonderful bikini you're wearing. Where did you get it?" said my next door neighbour.

"Well, it's not really a bikini," I said, carefully, fully aware that I was being "perved" on, "it's more of a playsuit, and I got it from Wicked Temptations. Do you like it?"

Stella chuckled again, and again I felt a frisson of sexual excitement trickle through my body.

"It's wonderful, I love the way the little straps gleam in the sun – purple is such a lovely colour."

I decided to take charge of the conversation now. "Well, Stella, thank-you very much, but I must say this is very naughty of you, spying on me like this. It is naughty, isn't it?"

Stella paused then replied, and her words were like music to my ears: "Yes, Sharon, very naughty. I suppose I should be spanked, shouldn't I?"

"Most certainly," I said, "and I know just who should be doing the spanking, you wicked lady."

"Anyone I know?" asked my caller, cheekily.

"Certainly – it's me," I said and paused.

"Oh that would be wonderful," she said. "I often try to get ZeeZee to spank me, but for some reason he's not into that sort of thing."

I know very well he's not into that sort of thing, I thought to myself. But I had to tease her a little.

"But ZeeZee looks such a sexy man, darling," I told her. "He must be a terrific lover."

"Oh, yes, perhaps," said Stella, with some hesitation in her voice. "He's got a lovely cock, just over eight inches, he's not circumcised and I love uncut cocks, love teasing the foreskin – but there are times I'm simply craving for a more dominant person."

"I know exactly how you must feel," I said.

"And I know this isn't right," said Stella, "but would you stroke your pussy? Just for me? I've got my binoculars trained on that straining little gusset – god you're gorgeous there, have you had a brazilian?"

"Sure have," I told her, "there's not one trace of pubic hair left. All right, I'll do it, but since it's a rather forward request, it's going to cost you some more spankings, agreed?"

Stella gasped slightly, then said: "Agreed, agreed, I'm being so wicked, I know, but stroke yourself for me, pretty please?"

I ran my forefinger down my cleft, feeling the labia lips part slightly under the pressure.

"Oh that's so wonderful, Sharon," said Stella, "are you wet down there?"

"Yes, I am," I confessed.

"Oh hell, I'd love to be your finger," said the caller.

"What are you doing, Stella?" I asked. "Are you playing with yourself? Show me what you're doing. Part the curtains wherever you are so I can see you."

I knew damn well where she was – her step-daughter's bedroom, the same room from where ZeeZee had perved on me less than a week ago. Then the curtains parted and I could see Stella standing, binoculars held to her eyes with one hand, a mobile phone to her ear with the other.

I couldn't see much of her face, but I could see that she was naked! Her breasts were wonderfully full, firm globes, her mons had a small patch of fair blonde hair but even from this distance I could make out that her pussy lips were pink and moist.

"I love those breasts," I told her. "How big are they?"

Stella laughed. "They were 34s when I was modelling, but now they're closer to 36," she told me.

"And that backside that I'm going to spank – turn around, show me."

Stella lowered the glasses, grinned down at me and slowly turned. Her buttocks were sensational! Lovely round, high globes that would, I knew, sound wonderful when my spankng paddle lowered its boom on them.

Then Stella spoke again: "Like it? Can I come over now? Will you spank me, please, please, Sharon."

But I had to get things organised, first. "I've got an appointment in an hour," I said, "I'll call you when I get back. Say 2 o'clock?"

Stella moaned: "Oh you awful beast. I'm so hot for your spanking and now you're going to keep me waiting!"

I laughed. "Patience, you wicked woman, patience. Sharon will spank – promise. But first I've got to get business out of the way."

We ended the call, I got off the recliner and dashed inside and rang Julio. "I need to borrow that camera again," I told him. "Can I pick it up, or could you get it to me?"

Julio said he'd call round to my place to set "the shoot" up, I gave him the address, then drained my margarita. Things were going swimmingly!

An hour later, Julio was at the door. I had pulled on a dress to cover my skimpy little playsuit and escorted him to my bedroom. My spanking paddle was already lying on the bed, ready for action.

"Playing with the guy with the thick cock again?" Julio asked, as he organised the set up with the hat box on a ledge that no one would dream of looking at if spanking and sex was on their mind.

"No, I'm not, you'll soon find out who," I told him, then added: "And his cock's not that thick, actually."

Julio grinned. "The camera obviously lies," he said, giving me a leer.

"Right, you're all set up. Like last week it's got 90 minutes of film, and I've given you two more cassettes, save me coming around all the time. The battery in the camera will last for about nine hours' filming."

"I'll get the fruits of my labours dropped off to your workshop tomorrow," I told him. "Any more advice on light, and so on?"

Julio looked around. "No one overlooks your bedroom, you can leave the curtains open," he said. "Same story with sound – a radio on will be no problem, but for perfect sound like you got with the stud last week it's better switched off."

When he had gone, I showered, then put on the playsuit again, stepped into my shiny new Manolo Blahniks and dialled Stella's number. She answered it on the first ring – obviously an impatient, hot-to-trot neighbour!

"Come on round, darling," I said. "Dress optional – only no bra or knickers, I want you naked when you get out of your outer clothing."

Stella almost panted: "I'm on my way."

I pressed the record button on the tassel dangling from the hat box and walked downstairs just in time to hear the awful chimes of "California Dreamin" and opened the door slightly to allow Stella to squeeze in.

She looked lovely, her blonde hair gleaming, a man's white shirt loosely draped but doing nothing to hide her spectacular assets. At her middle was a pair of cut-off jeans which also revealed her superb ass. Her legs were tanned and toned, high heels were on her feet.

I leaned against her, kissed her on the cheek, then started my bossy bitch role.

"Get naked, then wait for me to call you from my bedroom. OK, Stella?"

She nodded and I turned on my heels and walked slowly up the large staircase. I could feel her gaze fixed on my jouncing buttocks as I climbed the stairs.

I entered the bedroom, took the paddle from the bed and tapped it lightly against my thigh, standing feet apart in what I hoped was a dominating pose, my free hand on my hip.

"I'm naked," I heard a call from downstairs.

"Come on up, Stella," I shouted and soon she was standing at the bedroom door, as if seeking permission to enter, her breasts full, her nipples erect, her pussy lips glistening. The house was silent – all I could hear was Stella's heavy breathing and the excited thump of my heart.

"Come in, shut the door behind you, then get on all fours and crawl over to me," I ordered the former lingerie model. My lovely neighbour fell to her hands and knees and crawled over until her face was level with my mid-thigh region.

"Now tell me what you want – after you've planted one kiss of adoration on the gusset of my playsuit," I snapped.

Stella's hot hands clasped my buttocks, stroking and gripping them as she did, while her mouth pressed against what I knew was a sopping wet playsuit gusset. She planted a long, lingering kiss there, before pulling back and starting to unburden herself.

"Oh Sharon, please spank me, whip me, paddle me, I've been such a naughty girl," she begged.

"Why should I?" I taunted her. "How have you been naughty? Explain yourself!"

Stella took a deep breath – she had obviously been rehearsing this – then she tumbled into a torrent of self-confession. "I need it, I want it. All I've thought of since you've moved in here has been the caress of your hands on my ass. I lay in bed and dream of it. When ZeeZee's deeply asleep I finger myself to a slow, quiet climax – I have to, I need you so desperately. And then I perved on you this afternoon after I heard you getting your lounger set up. I'm wicked, I have to be punished."

I smiled down at her, running the leather paddle across her lovely cheek. "And so you shall, my dear Stella. Now get up and bend over the head of the bed, hands on the mattress, feet apart."

Stella did as I instructed, and I ran one hand across her luxurious buttocks, feeling the full firmness. "Wider," I snapped, slapping her lightly across her right cheek. She spread her feet even further, until I could plainly see her anus and, lower down, her gleaming sex furrow.

Moving off to her left side, with the paddle in my right hand, I laid down my rules. "I'm going to start you off from this side," I said, checking to make sure the video camera was getting a great view of her naked rear end.

"You can call for mercy, you can squeal, you can beg me to stop, but I'll ignore it as that's part of the fun. We will use a safe word for when you absolutely cannot take any more – and for that I'll use the word 'voyeur', which I think is rather appropriate, don't you, Stella?"

The lovely blonde giggled. "It seems eminently suitable, Sharon," she said, "in view of what I was doing with those binoculars."

"Good," I said, "then we'll begin."

And with a trembling hand I placed the fingers of my left hand against her sex trench, and pushed my playsuited pussy against her lovely firm thigh. Her sex was sopping wet!

"Oh fuck, stroke me there while you spank me, darling," she said in her gloriously husky, sexy voice.

I pulled my fingers from her sex and placed them to her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, moaned "Oh fuck, I love the way I smell" and then tensed. "Start now, Sharon, I can't wait much longer."

And I brought down my trusty paddle. "Whommmp" it went on her beautiful right buttock, causing the lovely round mound to wobble deliciously. As I raised my arm and gave the same cheek another blow, I replaced my fingers to her sex trench, and started to flick between her labia, then invade – but only ever so slightly – her cunt.

For the next two blows, I used swift flicks from below her buttocks to the lovely lower mounds, watching as her globes bounced under the impact. "Whommmp" went the paddle, "Yes" hissed my lovely slavegirl.

After about a dozen strokes on her buttock – and far more than that between her sex lips and across her thick and erect little clit – I decided to move around. Switching the paddle to my left hand, I positioned myself off to her right side, pushed my pussy against her right upper thigh and resumed stroking her sex, but this time with my right hand.

"Whommp" the paddle did its work once more, and after 11 more blows Stella started to enter into the spirit of our lovely game.

"No more, mercy, Sharon, please, I can't take any more!" she begged, in a lovely whimpering, pleading tone which made me rub my pussy harder against her firm thigh flesh.

"Whommp" went the hard-of-hearing paddle, and again "Whommp", totally ignoring the slavegirl's pleas.

"Ouch, no more, pretty please, no more, oh please stop, I'm on fire!" came the urgent request.

"Whommp" went the paddle in response. "Whommmp" and Stella clenched her awesome ass as if to ease the paddle's next pummelling.

By now my fingers were fairly flying across her sex lips and clit, and it was obvious her pleas were part of Stella's attempt to take her mind off and, thereby, stave off her impending climax.

With that in mind – and aware of my own desires as to how she was to achieve her orgasm – I dropped the paddle on the bed and said in a strict, no-nonsense voice: "Time to inspect this lovely tush for its warmth factor."

And I turned my back to her and rubbed my bare buttocks across her burning bum, her cheeks hot against mine. Shit, she felt fantastic.

"Time for some of my handiwork, I think, my dear Stella," I told her, placing my left hand's fingers against her pussy and stroking her more slowly now.

"No more, I beg you," came the pretend plea, and my right hand swept upwards to crack against her left buttock cheek. This was exquisite, her ass flesh wobbling as my hand made its impression on her already-warmed buttock. And again, and again, then she started to pant – orgasm time?

No, once more I pulled my fingers away, arranged my pussy firmly onto her upper right thigh and resumed my hand spanking, this time left hand against right buttock.

A dozen blows, or more, rained down on her and then I felt the need to bring her off win over my need to beat a strict tattoo on her ass.

With a gentle, but firm, shove, I pushed her down onto the bed and snapped "On your back, slut!" and my lovely neighbour complied in a flash, her thighs parted wide, her sex smiling at me invitingly. I kicked off my high heels and climbed onto the bed, accepting her invitation hungrily, thirstily.

I say "thirstily" because her pussy was still sopping wet from my digital dexterity down there. But now it was my tongue's turn!

My lips first kissed her on her lovely labia lips, then my tongue probed along the trench, tasting and savouring her marvellous musky juices as it did so. Then it alighted on the swollen nub of her clitoris and I teased it with teeth and tongue before running my hands beneath her fiery buttocks and cupping them in a firm grip.

Stella let out a soft sob, then began to rave. "Oh, tongue fuck me Sharon, you don't know how much I want it, how much I need it, tongue fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

And soon she was bucking and writhing beneath my oral adoration as the orgasm swept to her pussy and brought her to a throbbing, thrilling climax. I laid there, my tongue still licking at her cunt, then lower to her tasty little anal bud, until she had calmed, then I climbed up above her and squatted over her face.

Her tongue immediately flashed into action, running over the narrow gusset that barely contained my labia lips, and then she pushed me away, sat up and put her hands to the straps at the back of my neck and hauled them up over my head, pulling the little straps from my breasts, exposing me there.

Stella's mouth fastened onto my left nipple, sucking, making it even harder than it already was, then transferring to my right nipple, similarly bringing it to an even stiffer engorgement. Then she was pulling the strappy little garment down my body, dragging it off my hips. I helped her slip it off me, then she returned to her oral exploration of my pussy.

Her tongue was a frenzied, wild thing, flashing around my sex trench, flicking into my cunt, diving to my anus, then flashing around until she settled on my clit, licking, kissing and sucking it until I could hold back no longer and began to admit defeat, calling out "Yes, that's it, Stella, that's it, my darling, suck me off, suck me, suck" then, as the orgasm crashed through me I just let go with one long, lusting screamed "Suuuuuuck!"

As I came down from the plateau of pleasure, Stella continued to lick and kiss my pussy, helping me came back to earth, and then we lay in each others arms, pillows propped behind our backs at the head of the bed.

"Oh fuck, that was so great, Sharon," the lovely blonde informed me, stroking my breasts, kissing me on the mouth from time to time, and generally keeping me as aroused as hell.

"Where did you learn to make love like that?" I asked her, eager for something titillating for the video.

"Oh, one of my last lingerie shoots, about 10 or 12 years ago, just before I married my movie mogul," she said, licking my throat, then nibbling at my ear.

"We went to Hawaii to do a lingerie shoot on a beach on one of the smaller islands, I can't even remember which one. The people who produced the brochure thought it would look good, models in sexy lingerie cavorting in the surf and sand – except the fucking sand gets in your pussy and shit it's gritty," she laughed.

"Anyway, one of the girls in the shoot was a sexy little 20-year-old, great body and one evening we got totalled on too much tequila and she took me back to her room and before I knew where I was, she was spanking me with a sort of rubber spanking glove. Fuck, it was good!"

"That's where you got the penchant for spanking?" I said.

"And other things, Sharon," she laughed, running a teasing forefinger between my thighs and flicking it across my clit.

"But ZeeZee," I asked, ever mindful that the video was still going, "where does he fit in, if you like the ladies, as it were?"

Stella smiled a stellar smile – pardon the pun – and told me: "ZeeZee was a great fuck 10 years ago, but he never took me across his knee and pulled my panties to my knees and spanked me."

"What a shame," I tut-tutted, although secretly, of course, I was delighted.

"And this afternoon was my first spanking since my lingerie shoot in Hawaii all those years ago," said Stella. "Did I do well?"

"Wrong tense, Stella,"I informed her. "Am I doing well is more correct, 'cos I'm going to give you another warm-up. In fact, I've got one of those glove things. Like to try it out?"

Stella roared with laughter. "Is Rodeo Drive expensive? I'd love to try it out. What about a lash, or a whip? Got one of those?"

I kissed her on her pretty little nose. "Course I have," I told her, "but let's take it easy. You'll soon receive the full attention of my little arsenal of whips, lashes, floggers and things – but now it's time for the glove!"

Stella whooped "Spank me, mistress, spank me" and leaped from the bed and assumed her bent over position, thoughtfully displaying her wonderful tush to the camera's lens.

From a drawer in my huge walk-in wardrobe, I pulled my trusty rubber spanking glove. It was of quite thick, but extremely close fitting rubber, and was really a mitt. It had little protrusions of bumpy rubber spikes all over its palm. It was, in a word or two, a delicious implement for an ass to take punishment.




Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 02



I walked beside my lovely slavegirl and ran the mitt across her stunningly full and firm breasts. "Oooh, that feels so fuckin' good," she told me, then I traced it across her buttock cheeks.

"What do you say, Stella, you superslut, you?" I asked.

"Please spank me, darling," she said, in another of those low husky requests of hers. How could a girl refuse?

The rubber spanking mitt cracked across her beautiful butt, making it tremble. As I spanked, I placed my moist minge against her strong, toned upper thigh, rubbing myself against her bronzed flesh. At the same time, my middle finger was deftly working on her erect clitoris.

The triple movements – spanking mitt on buttocks, pussy on strong thigh and finger on clit – soon began to have their effect. I started to gasp as I felt my orgasm drawing near, and then, as I got more and more excited, the pace of my spanking increased, and the pace of my finger fucking.

Soon Stella was moaning "Mercy, mercy, no more Sharon, I can take no more, you bitch, you slut", which merely served to make me intensify my spanking, my fingering and my rubbing up and down on her thigh, now slippery and slick from my sex juice.

Then I felt my climax reaching me, roaring its wonderful path to my pussy. And Stella could feel it too. With a little shriek she cried: "Don't come before me, make me come, make me fuckin' come!"

It wasn't a demand, though, it was a pleading, sobbing call for me to flick her clit faster and faster and then, as the rubber spanking mitt went up and down against her trembling cheeks we both stormed and shouted our way to simultaneous climaxes.  

Pulling the mitt from my hand, I pushed her onto the bed and we collapsed together, laughing, giggling like a couple of schoolgirls, kissing and fondling each other.

"Shit," I panted, "that's the first time I've managed a dual orgasm in ages. It's like something you read about."

Then I pulled away from her embrace, asked "Margaritas, OK?" to which she nodded and I dashed downstairs and soon returned with two large glasses with lashings of salt around their rims, to help cool us down.

Seated up against piled pillows at the head of the bed, Stella sipped on her drink, then eyed me seriously. "Can I tell you something, darling?"

"Sure," I nodded, and waited, hoping it would be something juicy for the recording.

"My stepdaughter – you've met Stazee, haven't you?"

I nodded. "She's a little stunner," I said, urging her on.

"Well," said Stella, taking another sip of her margarita. I wanted to scream at her "Get the fuck on with it!" but bit my tongue.

"Well," she repeated, "I don't know if I'm dreaming things, but I think she fancies me."

I had to take a deep draught of my margarita to wait for myself to calm down. "What makes you say that?" I asked.

Stella ploughed on, moving quickly now. "It's just that every now and then I catch her looking at me and I don't know if I'm just fantasizing, but it's a sort of 'I'd love you to sit on my face' look.

"And whenever we're alone in the kitchen, which is big enough to play the final of the US Open tennis in, I swear she rubs up against me with her boobs accidentally on purpose.

"And the other day she told me she was getting bored with her teenage girl friends – they're all her age, 18, some are 19. She says they're 'airheads' and she far prefers the company of more mature women."

I chimed in. "Of course she fancies you, what's wrong with that? You're fuckin' gorgeous."

"Thank-you, dear," she smiled, "but I'm her stepmother, for fuck's sake."

"Oh for crying out loud," I said, louder than I meant to. "If you hadn't married her father and she met you in the mall and said 'I like older women, I fancy you, let's find a motel and sit on each others faces', you'd have rushed her off like a shot. After all, she's got a great body."

"You're telling me," said Stella, draining her drink. "The other week, we were doing this girls thing, looking at some dresses in a fashion mag and I saw something I said would suit her. She said she wouldn't be able to fit into it, so as a joke I said I'd take her measurements. Know what they are?"

I shook my head. "Tell me," I said, eagerly.

Stella grinned. "She's 36-23-35 and it's such a mouth-watering figure," she said.

"You're telling me," I said.

"And I know she fancies you," said Stella, quietly.

"She what?" I cried. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Well, the other day she was doing some studying in her bedroom and she called out to me 'Stella, come and have a look at this'. And I did, and we saw you in one of those outrageous little bikinis you wear, lying by the pool.

"Stazee said 'Doesn't she look great?' And I said, "She looks great for a 40-year-old' and the little tart said 'Yum, yum, I could go a bit of that' and then she looked me in the eye and said 'You're 40, aren't you, Stella?'

"And I got all flustered and walked out."

I kissed her on the mouth, warmly, then had an idea. "You know what?" I said.

"What?" said Stella.

"You've just told me that today wasn't the first day you've perved on me. I think that calls for a taste of the lash."

Stella put on a mock pout, but I could see her nipples standing up in erect anticipation. "About fuckin' time," she grinned.

I went to the massive walk-in wardrobe, removed four black silk stockings from a drawer, and the lash, and walked back into the bedroom. Stella saw what I was carrying and rolled over on her tummy in a flash, her hands and feet extended to the four corners of the bed.

After tying her down with the stockings, so she was spreadeagled in a sort of "X" shape, I placed the little leather lash – no more than three feet long, but capable of a cruel caress – and made her kiss it.

Slipping my Manolo Blahniks back on – just to give myself a feeling of added hauteur, I guess – I flashed the weapon down across her lovely tush. The leather of the lash meeting the lovely lushness of her firm flesh made a delicious "Tissssh" sound as it met the mark.

Two more strokes and Stella was writhing her pretty ass provocatively, making it look even more mouth-wateringly tasty. "Mercy, mistress, mercy," came her cry. "Tisssh" went the lash. More writhing, more begging. "Tisssh" went the lash.

Finally, after I had laid a good 20 strokes on her tush, which was now delightfully criss-crossed with the red-streaked evidence of my work, Stella called out in a hot, rasping voice: "Voyeur."

Dropping the lash on the floor, I kicked off my high heels and got up on the bed, lying back on the clustered pillows. My feet pushed beneath her arms on the mattress, then I slid my hips down until my pussy was inches from my mature slavegirl's mouth.

I felt her hot tongue slithering along my labia, diving into my cunt, teasing at my musky anus, then sliding back up to my clitoris. Soon she had me writhing and graunching on her face.

I looked down at her lovely ass, the red marks already beginning to fade, making the twin globes look so utterly sensual. I felt a tremor run through my body and then my orgasm started its inexorable flood to my sex.

As I lay back and enjoyed the fruits of Stella's oral attentions, I looked up at the hat box, where the camera was recording my lovely neighbour's cunnilingual exercises.

Then I did something naughty. I winked at the hat box and silently whispered to the camera : two down, one to go!

To be continued...



Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 03



Julio's face cracked into a broad grin as he delivered my second videotape back after working his technical magic on it. "You got any more of this family to seduce, Sharon?" he asked, after passing me the package.

"Maybe, maybe not," I laughed, pouring him a cold beer, "you'll see it all develop, I hope. How's my latest filming efforts?"

Julio sipped on his Dos Equis and nodded positively. "You've done very well," he said, "the quality of the film is fine, the colours are great and the voice recording is pitch perfect. I dunno what you plan on doing with this stuff, Sharon, but it sure as hell makes me randy. Ever thought of a role in the porn movie business?"

I built myself a lovely big margarita and sipped on the salt-encrusted rim. "Don't be silly, Julio, I'm far too old for that sort of thing," I told him.

"Nonsense," said Julio. "You and the lovely lady – what's her name, Stella? - you're both made for porn. You both look around early to middle 30s and the porn industry has young babes coming out of its ears. You'd be surprised at the number of punters who love to see a video starring what they call 'a more mature woman'," he told me.

I took another sip of my margarita and smiled: "Well, the punters are going to be disappointed, I'm afraid, Julio."

When my video expert had gone, I rushed into my entertainment room and slipped the cassette into the machine and sat back to watch my "performance" with Stella.

I could see what Julio was driving at – this was really raunchy stuff. Well, if the sight of two, busty, well-built, attractive women getting it on is what you describe as raunchy.

The pictures were vivid, in great colour, and the magnificent little spying machine Julio had installed in my bedroom had faithfully recorded every word Stella and I had spoken in crystal-clear clarity.

But now it was time to move on. There was still Stella's gorgeous young blonde stepdaughter to be trapped in my wicked little web. How to go about it? The part on the tape where Stella informed me that she thought her stepdaughter "fancied me" gave me an idea or two, but nothing concrete.

Just then the phone rang – and then one of my ideas fell into place.

"Hi, this is the number you dialled," I said and as soon as I heard that sexy, husky laugh, I knew it was Stella.

"Hi darl," she said, "look I want you to do me a favour, and knowing you, you'll jump at it."

"Shoot," I told her.

"Well, this Friday ZeeZee has to go to the fuckin' Cannes film festival and for a surprise, he's taking me along for the ride," she said.

"That'll be lovely," I told her.

"Oh, I don't know, it will mainly be my disgusting old husband perving the birds on the beach or trying to chat up some horrid little starlet," said Stella.

I nodded, fully aware of where ZeeZee's "perving" had got him in my planned web so far.

"Sorry, Stella," I said, "but where does that involve me?"

"Well, Stazee's put on an awful pouting period and moaned that she's going to be neglected and left alone, and all her friends are airheads and all the boys simply want to lay her, and I said – and please tell me to butt out if you're anti this idea – but I said I'd have a word with you and see if she could stay with you for a couple of days, while we're gone," said Stella.

I nearly let go a whoop and a holler, but I restrained myself and said that Stazee was welcome at my place any time.

Restraining myself, but in a voice which I knew betrayed my excitement, I told Stella: "I'll look after her in my own inimitable way, darling. Trust me!"

Stella's laugh was wicked. "I'll let you see how things develop," she said, and I almost laughed aloud, if only she could appreciate the pun in that remark!

"It's time Stazee found out that there's more to sex than young boys trying to get into your pants," said her stepmother.

"When I was a teenager that's all there was to sex," I joked.

"Right," said Stella, "I must fly. I have to ransack Rodeo Drive for new outfits for Cannes, we've only got two days before we jet off."

For Stella the two days would have flown, but for me they dragged interminably. Finally, on Friday morning, Stella rang: "We're off to LAX right now. Stazee's out at the library doing some research, or something, I've given her your number and she said she'd call as soon as she got back home. Ciao!"

To pass the time until her Stazee's call, I put on one of my teeny-weeny bikinis and lay out on the recliner, with a book and a whopping great big margarita for company. 

I'd hardly opened the book – all about the 1906 San Francisco earthquake – when the phone on the poolside table rang. I picked it, praying that it would be Stazee. My prayer was answered!

Her youthful, "Isn't life great?" voice was loud but stunningly sensual.

"That bikini you've got on is so fuckin' sexy," I heard the 18-year-old inform me.

"Really, Stazee," I said, with a chuckle in my throat, "it's very rude to perve on your next door neighbour. I presume you are perving, wherever you are?"

"Look up at my bedroom," laughed the blonde bombshell and I saw her. She appeared to be wearing only a bra and panties – both in vestal virgin white – but she looked sensational.

I waved to her and said: "Why don't you grab a bikini and get over here. You're staying for a few days, aren't you?"

"I'll be over in 10 minutes," said Stazee, and I swung my legs off the lounger and swung into action. It was going to be a "swinging" afternoon!

I dabbed on some lipstick, then some underarm deodorant – it was hot by the pool – and pulled on a T-shirt to answer the door. Standing there was Stazee, her hair looked great, blonde and strokeable. She was wearing high heels, those big wedge-shaped jobs, and a large man's shirt. Dunno about you, but a woman in a man's shirt is so fuckin' sexy!

She was holding a small overnight bag. "You travel light, Stazee," I said, letting her into the house.

"Just a couple of bikinis and some lipstick, that's all I need, Sharon," said the lovely 18-year-old, as she breezed into the kitchen.

"Right, let's sit out on my recliner and chat," I said, pulling off the T-shirt to reveal my little yellow bikini – in reality three tiny triangles of shiny material which just covered my nipples and pussy.

"Fuck, that bikini is so hot," said Stazee, as she peeled off the large shirt, to reveal an item which was possibly even more erotic than mine!

"You can talk," I laughed, as she trotted out poolside, "that bikini is hardly there!"

"Oh, this old thing," said the teenager. "It's just a little number I picked up in Rodeo Drive. Do you like it?"

And she did a pirouette by the lounger. The bikini was made of a shiny blue material and although it was larger than mine the strategic cut outs in the bra and briefs gave it a hugely erotic look. The cut outs in the bra, especially, were hugely arousing, revealing lovely expanses of firm, suntanned breasts.

I sat sideways on my recliner and since I had not brought another one out, Stazee was forced to sit alongside me. Our thighs brushed, and I felt a tremor of excitement run through me. This girl was so hot!

Then Stazee did something that surprised me – no, it flabbergasted me! She looked me straight in the eye – she had gorgeous, deep blue eyes – and then leaned forward and gently kissed me on the top of my shoulder. Then I felt her body start to tremble, more of a shudder, really. I had an awful fear that she was going to start hyper-ventilating.

I placed an arm around her shoulders and put a hand on her lovely, toned thigh and stroked it. "There, there, dear," I said in my "Mommy knows best" voice, "what's the matter? Can you tell me?"

Her upper body shook, her lovely breasts heaved and then she fell against me, her lips brushing my hair, then my throat.

"Oh, Sharon," she was almost sobbing. "I'm so sorry, I really shouldn't have done that, please forgive me."

I stroked her lovely blonde hair and tried to soothe her. "Don't be so silly, Stazee," I reassured her. "It was lovely – I love it when someone kisses my shoulder, I find it very, very sensual."

She pulled away from me and looked me directly in the eye again. "You mean that?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Sure," I told her. Then I decided to plunge in: "Stazee, is there anything you'd like to tell me? Anything you want to confide in me?"

She looked searchingly at me, then did some plunging of her own – with her mouth on mine! After a few breathless moments, she pulled back and the words came tumbling out in a torrent.

"Oh, Sharon, I don't know how to put this, it's just that – well, boys, I can't stand 'em. They think we're, they think, well, they think that California girls are only good for one thing. Sex, sex, sex, it's all they can think of.

"Do you know that they call three California girls walking side-by-side in the mall? A wind tunnel. A wind tunnel, for fuck's sake! Well, I'm not a ditzy blonde, honest I'm not.

"And because young girls here are just thought of as fodder for men's cocks, well, that's why, well that's why I ..."

And her voice trailed off into silence.

"And that's why what, my darling?" I asked, praying she could tell me what I was hoping like hell to hear and that she was going to unburden herself even more.

She heaved a sigh, took a deep breath and spoke again: "That's why I prefer women, older women, mature women."

Again, I decided to plunge in. "Stazee," I said, very quietly and, I hoped, very calmly, "I find it rather hot out here. I know somewhere where it's much cooler."

Stazee looked deep into my eyes again. "Would that 'somewhere' be upstairs and have a bed in it," she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

I grinned: "Correct on both counts, my darling."

Then I carried on. "Now I'm going upstairs and get out of this hot little bikini, it's so sticky, and I'm going to wait for you. Sit here for a minute or two and then come upstairs."

I paused, deliberately, letting the words sink in, then added my "honest" clincher: "And if you don't want to, well, we'll forget all about it and simply have a lovely few days together, lying by the pool, swimming and reading magazines. How's that?"

And I stood, leaned over so my breasts brushed against her tanned young shoulder, and kissed her full on the mouth. I walked to the ranch slider doors, knowing she was watching my bare ass jiggling. At the doors, I turned and looked back at her, smiled, then went upstairs to my bedroom.

Once there, I pressed the record button hidden in the tassel from the hat box and stripped off my bikini, feeling my nipples erect as the soft breeze from the air conditioning hit them.

I looked at the bed, and laying on it was the paddle, the crop with the heart-shaped tip and the lovely little yard-long leather lash. I debated what to do and then picked up the lash and stood center room, feet a couple of feet apart, tracing the tip of the flogger along my calf. I pondered whether it would scare her off, then decided her lust would win over her fear. Then I started to pray that Stazee would soon join me.

As I was beginning to despair that she was going to show, I heard the sound of shoes clip-clopping on the marble floor outside my bedroom. "I'm in here, Stazee," I said in as friendly a voice as I could muster in my excitement.

And then she was at the door, naked but for her wedged high heels. Stella had been right – at 36-23-35 she had a body to die for! Her breasts were full and firm, the nipples, like mine, erect, the areolae surrounding them pink and large, begging to be caressed and sucked. At her mons a little square of fair pubic hair announced that she was no bottle blonde. Lush, thick labia lips were clearly visible.

She walked towards me and stopped when our faces were about a foot apart. Stazee looked at me expectantly, I didn't want to disappoint her. Lifting the little lash, I placed it on her shoulder and pressed slightly. She took the signal the way I had hoped.

Kneeling until her face was directly opposite my shaven snatch, she waited for my command, as if she'd done this before. I was standing in profile to the unseeing, silent camera, then I spoke clearly, knowing my command would be faithfully recorded: "You know what to do, Stazee?"

A hushed, almost whispered "Yes" came from her mouth, then I felt her lips press against my pubic bone in a soft kiss, before tracing a downward path, over my clitoris, down over my lush labia, then to my weeping wet cunt.

The lovely little teenager's tongue then flickered against my cunt lips and pushed ever-so-slightly up the orifice, before she delved deeper, licking at my musky anus. I was wet, very, very wet, but I had no desire yet for an orgasm. Now I had to explore her desires, to see what she liked, what she wanted.

"Up," I ordered, and the blue-eyed, blonde beauty rose, her lips glistening from the sex juices she had lapped from my minge.

"Bend over and place your hands on the bed, darling," I said, quietly, but not unkindly.

She looked a trifle uncertain. "Don't hurt me, please, Sharon," she begged, but still she turned and placed her knees against the foot of the big bed, spread her feet wide, displaying her glorious pussy, then bent over and placed her hands on the mattress. Her full, firm breasts hung down deliciously, and I cupped one with my left hand as I stepped to the left of her body and laid the lash against her buttocks with my right hand.

Unlike Sharon's discipline, there would be no need for a safe word between us. This was going to be an erotic whipping, one that would be designed to make her want the lash time and time again.

I flicked the leather implement across her lovely ass, leaving the faintest of marks on her flesh. The lash made its thrilling "Tissssh" sound as it found its trembling target. She was aroused.

As I flogged her – no, that's not right, as I caressed her with the leather, I moved my hand from her fantastic, firm breast to her pussy. My fingers ran over her lush labia, noted that it was sopping wet, then moved up to her clitoris. She writhed and wriggled slightly, then whispered: "Oh yes, don't stop, please!"

But I soon had to. I knew she liked the light little love slaps from the leather flogger, I knew she liked the stroking I was performing on her clit, but now I needed to seriously explore her teenage pussy.

Dropping the lash on the floor and removing my sticky fingers from her pussy, I stepped to the side of the bed, threw the paddle and the other lash onto the floor, then beckoned to her to climb on the bed.

Stazee kicked off her high heels and clambered onto the bed beside me. I placed my sex-stained fingers against her mouth and she kissed them, greedily.

"And now, my darling," I said, comfortingly, "which position do you prefer for your orgasm? Lying on your back, thighs apart, or shall I lie back on the pillows and you can straddle my mouth?"

She pondered my question, then grinned: "I'd like both, I think, Sharon, but can we start with me sitting on your face? That's the way I've been fantasizing about this moment for weeks."

I gave her a startled look – a totally mock startled look, naturally – and said: "You have fantasized about this, Stazee?"

She nodded her head, sending her lovely blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. "Fuck yes, it's the best way to get to sleep at nights, fingering myself and thinking of you bringing me off!"

I grinned, and pecked her on the cheek. "Oh, fuck," I said, "there's nothing like being put under a lot of pressure before being asked to perform."

Piling three pillows on top of each other and facing lengthways down the bed, I laid back on them, and indicated to the lovely teenager that it was time to straddle me. She placed her knees placed on either side of my face, then she lowered her minge to my mouth.

The aroma! Oh, shit, she was hot! Her stepmom, the gorgeous Stella, was a lovely-tasting lady, but judging by the perfume wafting from Stazee's pussy down to my nostrils the stepdaughter was going to be sensational.

I planted a long, lick from her mons down to her anus, sampling her sweet-tasting sex juice on my way through, then moved higher to cocncentrate on her lovely labia, which was oiled and lubricated and slippery and slimy – and, you guessed it, sensational! The taste was so marvellous, I just wanted to drink her down, but then I started to work on my cunnilingus.

Her cunt was dripping wet and I found it easy to get my tongue into the aperture, my nose rubbing against her clit at the same time, inhaling the glorious pussy smell. Then I moved from one heavenly spot to another – her labia lips, lush and budding tasted so good as I laved at her there.

Then it was up to her clit, thick and engorged, and soon the 18-year-old's lovely body was jerking around on my face, wriggling and writhing as I brought her closer and closer to her climax.

Then she started to scream out the words, words which sounded great to me, and which I knew would sound great on the video!

"Oh fuck, Sharon, oh fuck, this is so fuckin' great, tongue fuck me, you wonder woman, tongue fuck me," Stazee panted.

I kept working on her clit, occasionally dipping lower to suck and sup at her leaking sex juices, before continuing my assault on her clit. Then, with little yelps of pleasure, the teenager gave in to the forces that would not take "No" for an answer, and as the orgasm smashed into her, her voice rose to a little shriek.

"Oh fuck, I can't stand it, it's sooooo big, I'm gonna wet myself, Sharon, sorry, I'm gonna wet myself," she warned me, but my tongue kept up its task, licking and flicking at her sex bud.

Then, with a groaning "Aaaaaargh", the blonde above me shouted herself to ecstasy and suddenly I felt a warm squirt erupt against my face, then another, then a third as she fought futiley against the release of her bladder muscles. I gulped down the strongly salty, warm flow, before resuming my tonguing of her clit, but the climax had already been reached.

She was still panting above me, but calming down, as I licked and sucked on her sweet-smelling snatch, smelling even more exciting now that she had lost control of one of her bodily functions.

Stazee fell from my body, and I knelt up and arranged the pillows so we could share them. Leaning over, I placed a long, deep kiss on her pouting lips, our tongues meshing as we kissed.

"Oh fuck, oh I'm so sorry Sharon, but I got so carried away – it's the first time it's ever happened to me, honest," she said, smattering torrid little kisses all over my face as she expressed her apologies for her "accident".

"Don't worry, Stazee, don't worry," I soothed her, replying by covering her face with kisses of my own, "it was lovely, I was tasting your glorious sex and you gave me a lovely little treat of your golden nectar. It was scrummy, I loved it!"

We lay entwined, her young, firm body pressing languidly against mine, then she suddenly sat bolt upright. "Shit, Sharon," she announced, "I've clean forgotten about you – where are my manners? How shall I bring you off, darling?"

I smiled and kissed her sweet mouth. "How would you like to?" I purred. "Haven't you fantasized about that, too?"

Stazee gave me a cheeky little grin. "Shit yes," she exclaimed, "and it's always been in the submissive position, with you straddling my face as I lay beneath you."

"Well, I guess that's the way we'd better start it, you lovely little subby, you," I said, and once more I arranged the pillows for a steamy facesitting session.

Stazee lay beneath me and I climbed "aboard", my pussy settling on her mouth, then thrilling as I felt her tongue laving at my clitoris for a moment or two before slurping and sucking at my labia and then my cunt before diving deeper to my anus.




Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 03



After her first foray back there, Stazee moved higher and was soon licking and loving at my cunt, then my labia before assaulting my clit, bringing me higher and higher until I was peaking at the apogee of my climax and thrusting, writhing and rubbing against her sweat and sex juice-stained face.

As I worked away on her mouth and tongue, the thought crossed my mind to present her with a little gift of my urine, but then it disappeared as I crunched into my climax, yelling and shouting "I'm coming, oh you lovely little slut, I'm coming" before shrieking in delight as the waves of orgasm flooded through me.

After a short recovery period, I kissed her full on the lips again and asked: "And what else have you fantasized about me while you've finger fucked yourself silly, you lovely little lady?"

Stazee looked above my head, as if trying to concentrate and then came up with that lovely old staple – soixante-neuf.

"Oh, goody," I told her, clapping my hands together in theatrical delight. "I simply adore 69, it's so much fun. It's no good for first time sex, because there's so much going on, but after you've explored your lover's body a bit, 69 is a wonderful way to enjoy sex. OK, who goes on top?"

"Let's try it both ways," said the 18-year-old, leaning over and sucking at my nipples and tracing her fingers into my snatch – a sopping wet sex, as if you needed to ask.

"All right, good idea," I told her. "You go on top first, but first let me arrange these pillows."

I put two pillows at the head of the bed, then lay back with my head on them, then I lifted my hips from the bed and placed another pillow under my buttocks.

"Righto, Stazee," I said, "shall we get licking?"

And with that signal, the glorious blonde teen climbed up on me, presenting her ass and snatch to my face, while she pulled my knees even wider apart than they already were and placed her eager mouth against my wetness.

As soon as I felt her tongue tracing over my sex, I began to lick at her naughty bits – starting with her delightfully sunken little anus, so beautifully brown and puckered.

It didn't take her erotic little mouth long to get me writhing in ecstasy beneath her, then she raised her groin slightly away from my mouth, allowing me easier access to her clitoris.

Not everything, of course, works out perfectly first time and I'm ashamed to say that I came first, but at least my climax allowed me then to concentrate on giving her a lovely, long Big O after me. 

We lay sweaty and smiling in others arms for a while, before the insatiable little beast was pushing me away and arranging her firm body on the pillows. Now it was my turn to push my ass back against her face and she didn't even wait for me to start laving at her crotch before she was hard at work, licking and kissing at my sex.

This time we were like a well-oiled machine, our bodies working in perfect unison as we worked our mouths on two steaming, sweetly-smelling snatches. Our climaxes erupted at almost the same split second and it was a wonderful completion to our first sex session. Stazee was, I had to admit it, a wonderfully athletic, lively and lovely sex partner.

Panting and giggling with delight we embraced again and then, after calming down, I began my interrogation of the little teenager, speaking clearly for the recorder as we cuddled and stroked and kissed.

"And tell me, dearest Stazee," I began, "how many times have you made love to another woman?"

Stazee told me I was her second partner in sapphic sex. She named a famous Hollywood whore – no, perhaps that's unfair, just let's say the lady "sleeps around" a tad – whose 19-year-old daughter had introduced Stazee to the delights of same-sex sex.

"We got a trifle smashed at her place – margaritas," said Stazee.

I interrupted her reminiscences. "Margaritas?" I said, "I love margaritas."

Stazee giggled again. "Don't tell ZeeZee and Stella," she confided, "they're not supposed to know I drink."

"Your secret is safe with me," I replied. The fact that she had a taste for margaritas was nothing compared to what her father and stepmother were going to find out about this randy little teenager, I thought.

"And how was it?" I asked, prodding her back to her first lesbian experience.

"It was nice," said Stazee, "but she was nowhere near as accomplished as you. I always knew it would be far better with an experienced, more mature woman."

I gave her a long, slow smooch on her mouth, then she pulled back so only our breasts were rubbing against each other. "Want to know something really kinky, Sharon?"

I nodded: "I'm always in the market for something kinky, darling – shoot."

Stazee gave me one of her "Butter wouldn't melt in my mouth" looks and grinned.

"There are times when I fancy Stella, fancy her like mad. She's your age and I know she's still got that fantastic lingerie model figure. I'd love to tie her down on a bed and give her some really randy bondage loving. I think she'd be fuckin' great. What do you reckon, Sharon? Kinky enough for you?"

I smiled, gave her another long smooch, then said: "Well, I don't know whether that would be incest or not. I mean, she is your stepmother, so you're not related by blood. Whether a judge in a court would agree with me, though, I have my doubts. Not, of course, that it would ever come to that."

Then I got back to her and Stella. "What have you done about it – to get her to make love to you, I mean?"

Stazee smiled. "Oh, nothing much, just little things. Sometimes in the kitchen I try to rub my breasts up against her back, so as to let her know how firm my titties are," she told me in a clear voice. This was going to make a magnificent recording!

"And then I'll sometimes compliment her on the cleavage of a dress, or how her legs look smashing in those stockings, and is she wearing a garter belt, because garter belts really turn me on, that sort of thing. What else can I do?"

I grinned. I could have told her, of course, but that would have ruined my surprise for her and Stella, wouldn't it?

To be continued.



Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 04



Julio lit another of his appalling Gauloise, which stank out his small editing suite, and inhaled sharply. "Now lemme get this right, Sharon," he said, "you want me to splice a lot of the juicier scenes of you seducing the entire fuckin' Zachary family and add in little spots with you doing some sort of commentary, correct?"

I nodded. "You've got it, Julio," I said. "I'm going to wear an erotic dominatrix outfit, I'm going to learn my lines – no need for an autocue, or whatever you call it – and I'm going to need those scenes with me as the dominatrix to be introducing the scene that's coming up."

Julio grinned, having seen all three videotapes of me seducing ZeeZee Zachary, the 55-year-old Hollywood movie mogul, his wife, Stella, 40, a former lingerie model, and Stazee, 18, a daughter from ZeeZee's first marriage. Stella, by the way, is wife number three.

"What's it going to be called?" he leered. "Going Thru the Family? Sharon's Seductions? Sharon Rides Again?"

"I haven't decided," I said, grimacing as a waft of the awful French cigarette drifted across my features. "Perhaps something really mundane, like Sucking Up To Sharon. How the fuck do I know? I just want something that'll keep 'em on the edge of their seats when they first see it."

Julio gave me another leer. "Well, they had me on the edge of my seat, Sharon, I'll tell ya that for nuthin'," he laughed. "OK, can do. Now, where we gonna shoot Madame Domina doing her commentary stuff?"

"You tell me," I said, "then we'll both know."

Julio pondered. "It's best we shoot it in my studio using a little lady I know," he said. "Presumably you'd prefer to do it in front of a woman than a lecherous male, eh?"

"Depends," I grinned back at him, "if the lecherous male is a hunk, maybe I'd go with a man. But, sure, if the lady knows her business, we'll use her."

Julio picked up his mobile and punched in a number. "Mel," he said, "Julio here, how's it hangin'?" They exchanged small talk, Julio made his pitch, then hung up.

"She'll be here tomorrow, if that's soon enough for you to learn your lines, and she'll shoot you at 3 o'clock. How long will ya need?" he asked.

"As long as it takes, why?"

Julio grinned a nicotine-tooth stained sneer and said: "Depends how much I charge you for the use of my little studio, After all, someone's got to buy baby new shoes."

"Don't worry, Julio," I assured him, "you'll find I'm going to be very appreciative of your efforts. But don't tell me you haven't enjoyed my little performances."

The recording and taping expert gave me one of his Grade A lecherous leers. "Enjoyed ain't a word good enough for it, Sharon," he laughed. "I've taken copies of the three tapes and I wank off to 'em every night – well, two of 'em."

"Don't tell me," I said, playfully, "me with the two ladies of the house?"

Julio nodded. "Seeing you with the big-cock movie mogul don't do a thing for me," he admitted, "but those two darlings, wow! Tell 'em, if they ever want to be in a porno to call me."

I looked sharply. "I don't think they're the types, Julio – and you make sure those fuckin' tapes don't fall into the wrong hands. Whatever you may think with your tawdry little mind, these tapes are not going to be used by me for blackmail. Got it?"

My tone must have been sharper than I intended. "Hey, Sharon, it's me, Julio," he said, in a pained tone. "Baby, I've got tapes of Hollywood's Mr and Mrs Illustrious doing things that would turn your stomach. I mean the top ranking fuckin' stars. They play around like you wouldn't believe. Compared to them your tapes are 'Jack and Jill went up the hill' stuff, geddit?"

"Jack and Jill went up the fuckin' hill? What on earth are you talking about, Julio?" I asked.

"It's a nursery rhyme, ain't it?" laughed Julio. "Well, your stuff is kindergarten compared to some of the dirt I've got."

"I'm with you, Julio, only make sure it stays safely under your lock and key. I'm not planning on doing anything that will upset Mr Movie Mogul in this town, OK?"

Julio nodded, stubbed out his stinking Gauloise, and I drove home to learn my lines.

The following afternoon at Julio's office, I was introduced to Melissa, an attractive but hard-faced blonde in her mid-30s, big boobs, long legs, but there was nothing I liked about her, except her professionalism.

"Let's get into the little studio, get you into your gear, get it done and then Julio can work his wonders with it," she said, after we'd been introduced.

In the studio I donned a black leather quarter cup bra I'd purchased from some seedy little sex shop downtown, pulled on the accompanying black leather boots which came half-way up my thighs, and then sat perched on a sort of high bar stool. Behind me, the wall of the studio was draped with a dazzlingly-white sheet.

Melissa checked the light, checked the background, announced "That white backdrop against your tanned body and the black leather is stunning" and we began filming.

It took me an hour to get it right, we had to do several "takes" because it was harder than I thought. I guess when it comes to acting I'm good at seducing the next door family, but I'm never gonna get an Oscar.

Back home, I called Stella and invited her and her husband and lovely daughter over mid-Saturday afternoon for poolside drinks.

The following day – a Thursday – I drove to Julio's and he cut and spliced, or whatever film cutters do, until I was satisfied with the way he'd made one movie out of my triple seduction scene. He said he'd make two copies of it and they'd be couriered to my home. I wrote him out a cheque for several thousand dollars, not a dime of which was badly spent, in my opinion.

Saturday rolled around hot and sunny, as it usually does in La-La Land in midsummer, and I laid on lots of drinks and finger food. I wore a much more demure bikini than the job I'd had on when Zee perved me, although I thought it was still pretty darned sexy.

ZeeZee wasn't wearing a thong to show off this time, just a pair of shorts, but he looked tanned and toned, even quite handsome in a sort of Clark Gable way, if you like Clark Gable that is.

Stella wore a white one-piece which looked sensational on her superb, tall figure. Stazee was her usual stunning self, but she too had gone the more sedate way – her bikini would only have set off a minor riot on Santa Barbara beach, not a major one.

We enjoyed drinks – Stazee sticking to orange juice – and around 4 o'clock I made my pitch. "Come on into my entertainment center," I told my guests, "I've got a little movie for you all to enjoy."

We trooped inside, Stella and ZeeZee settling on a long leather couch in front of the big screen, Stazey hunched down on the floor in front of them. I don't know what they were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be Citizen Kane!

I pushed the cassette in and waited for their reaction when the shot of me in my dominatrix outfit came up on the screen – my big breasts, all 39 inches of 'em, in superb uplift, my nipples erect, my pussy shaved, my legs encased in the black, gleaming leather boots.

My audience was a "captive" audience – they all leaned forward, eyes almost popping out. Hell, even I paid attention and I knew what was coming!

"Hi," I saw myself announce from the big screen, "and you may be wondering why I've called this meeting." I gave my audience a small smile. You could have heard a pin drop.

"I'll come to that in a minute," I went on, from the big screen, "but first I'll ask you to hear me out. Please watch this video to the end, then you're free to go. But one point I must stress."

I paused on screen. My three guests eyes were glued to the screen.

"This is not, I repeat not, blackmail. It's just a little fun video and at the end I'll have an offer for you. OK? Right, now are you all comfortable?"

Again, a pin dropping would have caused an explosion.

"Right," I heard myself continue, "then let's begin. First up, what brings you all here? This."

Then the scene changed to the video ZeeZee had taken of me. The screen was filled with a shot of me in my metallic green, scandalously brief, gleaming little bikini. My fingers were stroking the tiny little strip covering my pussy, you could see the outline of my labia lips straining against the taut material.

The camera roamed over my body, then I was up on the screen removing my bra, my nipples erect, proud. Then the scene returned to me, seated on the bar stool in my domme's gear.

"Right, now that's got your attention," I said, "it's time to show you who the cameraman was. And isn't this just the prettiest little picture!"

Now the screen was filled with my video of Zee stroking his eight inches of uncut manhood, of his cock surging, its veins purple and standing out, then him trapping his semen when he clamped his thumb and forefinger over his foreskin to prevent "making a mess".

The bulge of his foreskin, containing as it did his cum was rather cute, I decided. ZeeZee looked uncomfortable, but his eyes were still glued to the screen.

Cut back to me in Julio's studio. "Such a sweet old man, ZeeZee, not wanting to make a mess in his daughter's bedroom. Shit, I only wish everyone was so thoughtful. Now we move to the really interesting bit, eh ZeeZee? How's this, just for starters – don't worry, just a brief 'teaser', there will be more."

The scene switched to the motel cabin up in the Valley. Again I was wearing my little green bikini, and ZeeZee was nude. I was kneeling beside him, paddling his suntanned ass with my big leather punisher.

Then the words came up, loud and clear: "Stella do this to you, baby?"

ZeeZee visibly reddened as he heard his reply boom out into the room: "Hell no, no fuckin' way. I have to pay for this. I go to a big-busted black girl."

Then my question followed. "She sit on your face, Zee?" I asked.

"She sure does, big smelly ass, lush pussy lips, I love it."

Stella was glaring at the screen, furious – but not so furious that she wanted to look away.

Then the scene turned back to yours truly, seated on my bar stool. "That's enough of the husband, for now," I said. "Now, how about his wife? What do you think of this, Stella?"

And up on the screen came a shot of me in my sexy little black playsuit and Stella, as bareass naked as the day she was born, kneeling in front of me, planting a kiss on my pussy and begging: "Oh Sharon, please spank me, whip me, paddle me, I've been such a naughty girl."

The next scene showed me stroking the former lingerie model's pussy, with Stella's begged "Oh fuck, stroke me there while you spank me, darling" and then I was paddling her glorious ass.

Cut back to me on the bar stool. "Such a sweet scene, don't you think? But that sort of behaviour is not confined to just stepmom and pop in this family, is it Stazee?"

At the sound of her voice being mentioned the 18-year-old jerked her head as if she'd been struck with a barbed wire whip!

And then the huge screen showed me and Stazee, both of us naked, and me whipping the lovely blonde's ass with the little leather lash. As with her stepmom, I was stroking her pussy, and Stazee was pushing her ass back for the flogger. "Oh yes, don't stop, please" came her plea as I whipped her beautiful buttocks.

Then I was up on screen again, on my barstool. "But wait," I called out, "there's more!" My audience's attention was riveted to the screen.

"This family loves a little domination, sure, but it also loves sex," I was saying. "Just watch these little games, team."

Then the video showed ZeeZee fucking me, showed him giving me a tit fuck – great shots, those! – and then me sucking him to ejaculation and swallowing his semen.

Next, the screen was filled with Stella and me going at it like crazy, followed immediately by Stazee and I doing a sort of "instant replay".

There was the confession of Stella to her affair with the lingerie model in Hawaii, of how much she loved the rubber-glove spanker, of how she fancied her stepdaughter. Then Stazee's confessions as to how much she wanted her stepmom. It was all there, and it was wonderful!

Then it was back to the "mistress" of ceremonies, if you'll allow me my little joke.

"Right, team," I told them, "I'm going upstairs now and I'm going to get into this rather naughty little outfit I've been wearing to introduce this videotape. There's about 10 more minutes of highlights of our fun and games to go on the tape.

"Please watch it, then if you like you can remove the tape and take it home with you – I've got a copy. But if you want to stay, when I come back down here, I'd like to see you all lined up, on your knees in the middle of the room here, all stark naked. Then, we can play some games.

"Either way, let me assure you there's no blackmail involved in this at all. Right, I'm off, and I hope to see you down here in about 10 minutes. If you've left, I'll quite understand, but I'd just like to thank-you all for some marvellous sex. See ya later."

Then I paused, climbed from my stool, turned so my naked buttocks were facing the camera, and I turned and looked over my shoulder at the camera and winked, before adding: "I hope!"

I walked slowly upstairs, hearing the sound track of a lot of huffing and puffing and oohing and aahing. There was not a sound from the audience. Up in the bedroom, I stripped naked, pulled on the boots, fitted the quarter-cup bra so my breasts stood up in stunning uplift and picked up my little leather lash.

Then I arranged my black silk stockings, tying them to the four corners of the, as yet, unoccupied bed.

I gave what I hoped was my still captive audience a couple more minutes, then slowly walked downstairs. My heart was thumping, pounding, I desperately needed a large margarita, but I had to see whether they had responded to my suggestion.

Turning into the entertainment center, I hardly dared look at the floor, instead looking up at the ceiling. Then I allowed my gaze to lower. And there, kneeling side by side – ZeeZee in the middle, flanked by his wife and daughter – was the Zachary family in all its naked glory!

I knew Zee was aroused, his eight inch cock was sticking up stiff and proud. I hazarded a guess that the two women on either side of him would have moist pussies.

Slapping my leather lash against the upper part of my boot, I stepped into the room and smiled down at the trio, whose faces were all upturned to mine.

"Excellent," I said, in a voice I hoped was not too smug with satisfaction. "Now we can play some games."

It was time for me to exert my authority, so I snapped at Zee: "ZeeZee, up on your feet, stand beside that easy chair." The naked male did as he was told.

"Now Stazee, be a darling and put your high heels back on, we need you to be almost as tall as your darling stepmom for the first little game."

Stazee stood swiftly, I could see the anticipation on her face as she stepped into her wedge-styled high heels. Then I went and sat in the easy chair, ZeeZee's cock at face level pointing towards his chin. I placed a hand on his shaft and kissed the moist helmet of his cock, then stroked his heavy ball sac.

"Now Stella you can get on your feet and stand in front of your stepdaughter," I ordered, and Stella did my bidding. The two full-breasted blondes were about two feet apart, their lovely boobs heaving in expectation.

"Feet apart now, Stella," I instructed her, "wider!"

Stella placed her feet until they were about a yard apart.

"OK, Stazee," I said, "move behind Stella's back and trace your nipples against her back – but very gently, very lightly."

The teenager did as I asked, and then Stella let out a little moan as she felt her stepdaughter's nubbins brushing against her lovely bronzed flesh, circling over her shoulder blades.

"Now down to her buttocks, darling," I told the girl, and Stazee knelt on the carpet and rubbed her erect nipples very lightly across Stella's superb buttock mounds.

"Stella," I ordered, "bend over slightly, place your hands on your knees – over!"

The 40-year-old did so, and I asked her stepdaughter: "Can you see her anus, Stazee?"

"Yes," she replied, in a voice throbbing with excitement.

"Great, rub your nipples across it," I said.

The 18-year-old complied with my order.

"Now lower, across her sex, both nipples, Stazee," I said.

The teenager again complied, then I commanded: "Stand up!"

Stazee did as instructed. "Cup your breasts, push them up," I told her.

When she had done this, I told her stepmother: "Now suck her nipples, Stella."

The 40-year-old bent her face to the girl's boobs and sucked tenderly on each nipple in turn.

"Back to attention, Stella," I said, "place your hands clasped tightly behind your neck." The former model did, the position enhancing the uplift of her lush, heavy breasts delightfully.

"Now Stazee," I said, in a low, quiet voice, "place the fingers of your right hand on her pussy and stroke her there. Is she wet?"

Stazee's trembling hand reached out and her fingers played with the 40-year-old's minge. "She's sopping wet, Sharon," said the 18-year-old in a hoarse whisper.

"Good," I said, "now get your fingers really moist and then rub them all over her left breast. Go on!"

The teenager caressed the older woman's breast, kneading her fingers across the globe, pressing her palm against Stella's erect nipple.

"Now lick and kiss the breast, Stazee," I ordered, and the girl lowered her mouth to her stepmother's breast and kissed and licked eagerly at the firm, full peak.

Above me I heard ZeeZee give out a low groan as he watched his daughter sucking at his wife's breast. I pulled his hard-on slightly towards me and sucked on his helmet, sipping at his pre-cum. It didn't taste too bad, actually.

"Right, darling," I addressed Stazee again, "now as you're having a nice suck and lick there, put your left hand on her minge and get those fingers nicely wet. When you've done that, stop licking at the left breast and smear your freshly-perfumed fingers across Stella's right breast."

The blonde teenager did as I told her, then bent and licked and kissed her stepmom's right breast. I gave the heavily-breathing ZeeZee another sweet suck on the first couple of inches of his erection. I don't think the daughter or stepmother even noticed, so rapt were they in their sexy little game.

After a minute or so of her breast adoration, I informed Stazee: "Time's up, darling. Now it's your stepmom's turn. Feet apart, Stazee, there's a good girl."

The teenager spread her feet wide, and Stella looked over at me expectantly. "I think you know how it goes by now, Stella," I told her with a smile. "Off you go."

And with that, the former lingerie model placed her fingers into her stepdaughter's sopping wet pussy, then transferred the sex juice from her fingers to the girl's brilliant breasts, before bending over and worshipping the perfumed peak.

As she did so, I once more took Zee's raging hard-on in my mouth and gave it another long sucking – it really did taste quite nice! I was warming to the old goat!

While stepmother and stepdaughter played their pussy juice-to breast game, I stood, slapped my lash against my boot and whispered to ZeeZee: "On all fours and follow me up to my bedroom."

Turning to the two blondes, I said: "We're all going upstairs now. Follow Mr Hard-On, crawling, there's good girls."

ZeeZee fell to his hands and knees and began crawling behind me, no doubt casting lecherous looks at my bare buttocks as I led the way in my stunning, haughty boots. I was quite a way ahead of the trio when I reached the bedroom, so I had time to press the recording button in the tassel below the hat box before they arrived.

When they had all assembled, and were kneeling obediently at the foot of the bed in front of me, I announced: "Time for some hotter fun, team. Stella – up on the bed!"




Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 04



Stella almost jumped onto the bed in her excitement, and I indicated to ZeeZee and Stazee that I wanted them to tie the former lingerie model face up on the bed. The stiff-pricked husband and the wet-pussied stepdaughter soon had her strapped down and helpless. Her minge was gleaming with arousal and anticipation.

"Now, Stella," I said, indicating to ZeeZee that he should stand beside me, "as I daresay you've seen on the little video performances, Stazee has a hugely educated young mouth for an 18-year-old. Do you want to experience that lovely, young mouth, my dear?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, of course I do, Sharon," the blonde almost screamed. "Let her go down on me – now, now!" she bellowed.

"Shit, you're eager for it, aren't you?" I grinned. Then, with a flick of my lash to Stazee I gave the signal permitting her to get on the bed and start her oral adoration of her stepmother's pussy.

Stazee moved swiftly onto the bed and her mouth was almost instantly at pressing between Stella's splayed thighs, working on the lush, moist wetness of the 40-year-old snatch.

As this was going on, I decided it was time to employ the idle mouth of the Hollywod "mogul".

"On your knees, Zee," I barked, "and let's see if you can do as good a job as your daughter."

ZeeZee was down in front of me in a flash, I spread my stance wider, then felt his hot lips and tongue working on my sex trench, which I knew very well was absolutely sopping wet. ZeeZee noticed it too, judging by the slurping sounds he was making at my minge.

To keep him up to scratch, as it were, I gave him several sharp cuts of the lash across his upper back, but the naked pussy licker gave no indication that he even felt the blows, so eagerly was he lapping at my pussy.

Soon, Stella was starting to moan and sob as Stazee's precocious young mouth began to work her closer and closer to orgasm. Her husband's oral attentions were having a similar effect on me, too, and as stepdaughter worked at stepmother's minge, and the movie man worked at mine, both Stella and I came in shuddering, heaving climaxes. I punctuated my Big O by slashing the whip fiercely across ZeeZee's back in appreciation.

Stazee then stood, and wiped her pussy-juice dripping mouth with the back of her hand, a silly smile on her face. "Fuck, that was tasty," she said to me, as if she was telling me something about Stella's minge that I didn't already know!

"Get up," I snapped at ZeeZee and the thick-pricked man rose to his feet. "Randy still, eh?" I grinned, flicking the tip of my little lash across his hard-on.

"You'd better believe it," he leered, his face flushed from his cunnilingual duties.

"Well then, there's a pussy that could do with a really good rogering," I told him, and ZeeZee climbed onto the bed, lowered his pussy-smeared face to his wife's and kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

"I'm sorry I've been such an asshole," he whispered to her as he placed his throbbing cock head to her cunt.

"Oh shut up and make love to me," Stella smiled at him.

He slid smoothly into her and soon they were thrusting against each other in excited passion.

I looked at Stazee, who stood by the bed watching her father's performance with her stepmother with fascination.

Extending my hand, I placed the lash in hers. "Give him some cuts on that scrawny, suntanned old ass of his, why don't you?" I said.

Stazee looked thrilled. "Can I really lay into him?" she asked, breathlessly.

"Shit yeah," I told her, "this guy's a pain freak."

And Stazee stepped to the foot of the bed and flashed the lash down across her father's pumping buttocks. He let out a squeal.

"More, fuckin' hell, more, that's fuckin' great," he bellowed, increasing the pace of his thrusts in his wife's pussy.

Stazee made a lovely sight as she worked her arm back and forth, whipping her father's buttocks, her breasts bouncing and heaving erotically as she flagellated him.

I stepped back and took in the tableau of wild sex. Up above me, in the hat box the camera was, I knew, faithfully recording every stroke of the whip, every thrust of ZeeZee's cock.

I didn't know if they were aware they were being filmed again. But if they did, well I don't think they cared!

To be continued?