1 comments/ 51934 views/ 5 favorites Film Buff By: CalebCro Your eyes were heavy. A voice was beating against your eardrums. "Did you expect to tread in our realm without repercussions? Every time you see us and shiver, we feel it. Every time you scream in shock and fear, we know. It fills us, it feeds us. And when you sleep here? Then it's our turn, it's our time to laugh and shiver. Remind us how it feels to be you, and you get to wake up....." Your eyes shot open with the last echoing words ringing in your ears. Get to wake up huh? Whatever. You stretched and looked around the theater. You must have fallen asleep. But where was I? As you turned side to side to loosen up your back you realized something strange. There were no doors. The theater had no doors. Anywhere. You started to stand up as you realized it, but the lights were starting to go dim. Was there a film starting? Should you look behind the curtain, or just wait to see what plays? You sat back down, trying not to look around as you hear voices getting louder in the growing darkness. As your ass touched the chair an electrical shock goes through you and you almost jumped out of the seat. "Down in front!" A deep gravelly voice chuckles as you realized that although you couldn't see anyone here, you were not alone. Moving shadows at the edges of your vision were becoming darker, filling the seats. You felt underneath your ass and found a thin line in the fabric that ran directly between your pussylips and ass cheeks. It was slightly warm. Was that a wire? "Don't worry lady, it's all part of the show...", the voice behind you spoke again, obviously leaning towards you from a row or two behind. You shivered as the light of the projector began to fill the screen and give the shadows more form and shape. They seemed at least vaguely human, but staring at one directly made it hard to make out shapes, like looking at the numbers on a clock in your dreams. Was this a dream? It must be, right? You jumped again as a hand clapped on your shoulder near your neck for a moment, almost making you scream. That felt real. "Hey", whispered another gravelly voice in your ear, "your boyfriend coming back or should I move? I can't see over him...". So nervous you felt unable to speak, you shrugged as the trailer started. The first was a trailer for a comedy, something about a couple with a talking pet marmot. The laughter and chuckles in the audience surrounded you, but it was all dark, deep voices. You tried to believe it was just a dream and settled into your chair to watch the show. The second trailer was for an action movie, and the hooting and whistling during the female heroine's shots made it clear that whatever they were, the audience was mostly male. Or lesbian. You sunk a little lower in your seat. The third trailer started with a red screen covered with the words "Restricted", and showed short clips of a steamy romance based in Las Vegas. The audience cheered even louder, and you wished the movie would just play. This HAD to be a dream, right? Finally the opening credits of the movie started, but just like the shadows around you it was hard to make out the names of the film or actors. You realized that wasn't going to matter though, as the bad acting degenerated into torrid sex minutes later. "Now that's more like it!", one of the voices behind you said with interest. You watched in shock as visions of sweaty slapping flesh began to fill the screen, and realized where all of this might be headed. Your pussy fluttered for a moment at the realization, and you tried to look at the floor for a moment and gather your thoughts. Should I get up and look for a door? The fear of brushing against one of those heavily breathing shadows in the dark was too much to bear, and you tried to just sit still and hope time would pass. But the sounds of what was happening on the screen were too much to ignore, and every time you looked up it was a constant struggle not to look down again when your pussy quivered and your mouth watered. As the scene came to it's inevitable conclusion, the woman onscreen finished by giving her partner a blowjob until he shot it all in her mouth. You blushed and looked down again as you caught yourself licking and biting your lower lip. This wasn't helping. The screen went black for a moment and you gasped, then the voice you had heard before this nightmare began shouted from the front: "We need a volunteer!" You gripped harder on the arm of your chair, afraid of being noticed. Your pussy was so wet from the fear of being noticed, of the excitement of the danger and of watching sex with a room full of men (Well, some kind of men) that your panties had soaked through. When the shock ran through your chair this time it was already damp from your pussy juices, and it was as if someone touched a taser to your clit. You yelled and jumped up at the same time, grabbing your ass, which pushed your breasts forward, shaking them. You waved your hands, hollering "No, there's a wire in my seat! I'm not....", but your words were drowned out by the cheering of the crowd filling your ears. A new scene had started and you sat back down quickly, hoping they hadn't noticed you and were cheering for the next onscreen tryst. Your respite was short lived, however, as you felt cold hands on your shoulders pulling you deeper into your chair. They were rough and strong and...what were those?!?! Claws??? You tried to struggle but the firm hands on your shoulders and neck squeezed tighter with every wriggle, the breathing shadows around you becoming more labored. Your eyes widened as you felt tongues and teeth nibbling and licking at your pink skin. The tongues wriggling across your neck almost seemed to touch, like two pieces of wet sandpaper lightly rubbing together with you in the middle. "I didn't mean to stand up! I wasn't v...." Your yelling was lost in the sounds of laughter and cheering from the audience, but you couldn't tell if they were cheering at you or the screen. Your pussy was still betraying you, becoming wetter by the second. You grasped at the seats in front of you uncontrollably, gripping the chair arms and the backs in front of you. Even though your clothes were on, it was as if you could feel the constant touching of the shadows right through your tank top, the strange feeling of their cold hands on your legs underneath the jeans. It felt like there were ice cubes and burning matches coursing through them, an almost electric tingling sensation caressing you with every touch. You began to relax deeper into the seat, your legs sliding underneath the chair in front of you. You looked at the screen again as you felt more formless hands pull your legs apart. There, on the screen, in thirty feet of Technicolor, was your own face. You gaped in shock, barely noticing the tingling on your pussylips as you saw yourself moaning louder and louder, bouncing up and down, buffeted back and forth by two unseen cocks. A shiver went down your spine as a drop of sweat fell from your sun bleached breasts onscreen, and as if in response to that something that felt like massive fingers encircling those same breasts, squeezing both of them completely as if they were going to be sucked right out of your shirt. You tried to call out again, only to feel your tongue being tickled, as if tiny little frozen fingers were lapping at the insides of your mouth like waves, starting to thrust in and out between short breaks. Strangely, it felt much like the time you touched a nine volt battery to your tongue when you were younger. Except this was much milder, and spreading everywhere you could imagine it reaching. Even though your clothes were on, there were similar sensations building at the edges of your pussy and ass. It seemed like with every breath the sensations all over your body, both inside and out, were growing stronger. The sweating, bouncing, moaning version of you on the screen was in the middle of coming when you noticed what was happening. She began to gag on another cock as she bounced on two others as you realized you were feeling the same sensations, but harder, like a cloud made of steel, covered in sandpaper and electricity trying to push you to your limits. Your legs flopped awkwardly, your mouth gaping open as the unseen cock continued to expand, pushing in your throat still deeper. You began to drool on yourself as the shadowy member kept your mouth open, lost in staring at the screen to see what would happen next. Jolts of sensation began to shake your body as the version of you in a cumstained bikini took cock after cock in all her holes. You tried to squeal in shock as you saw another woman joined in, squeezing your doppelganger's nipples as she licked your pussy and sucked your clit. In the darkness of the theater your clit felt as if it had a suction cup on it, and you tried to scream over the phantom cock in your mouth as the fleshy logs in both your pussy and ass seemed to grow at once, battering against your cervix and into your stretched rectum at the same time, fucking you right through your jeans. All of the thrusting was happening in unison. You were sure your jeans looked like you had pissed them. The silver screen version of you was the center of a tableau of debauchery. Every time someone yanked anal beads out of her ass the cock stretching your spreading shithole throbbed even wider, making you feel like even your insides might actually scream if your mouth couldn't. It was impossible to tell if your pussy was being fucked even wider, because the moment you tried to focus on any hole the feelings inside it seemed to become more real, stretched wider and deeper than before, the gagging misty thing in your mouth pushed to the point you were sure you could feel it in your stomach. You grasped at the air with your hands as you stared almost sightlessly at what would happen to you next, lost between fear and confusion and lust. Your hands finally settled in the seats at your sides as you stared ahead, engulfed in sensations. Were you actually seeing double anal penetration? The whole audience seemed to be breathing with you, whispering in motion with the perfectly timed thrusts. It took you a moment to realize that your hands had fallen into the laps of two more shapes, gripping and squeezing around their exposed cocks like an old habit. The whole atmosphere of the room seemed to be breathing in and out with you, and for a passing moment you wondered if this is what it was like to be inside a lung. All of your skin both inside and out felt stretched beyond belief, both on fire and getting frostbite at the same time, from your clit to the points of your nipples being squeezed and scraping the insides of your bra. With a shock you realized that there was only one part of your body that wasn't freezing, the hand wrapped around the fleshy cock in the seat on your right. With that realization came the shock that although you couldn't SEE it at all, it felt like a REAL cock, warm to the touch and dripping precum. You realized that before you fell asleep that's where I had been sitting, but what did it mean? Was it really mine? There was only one way to find out, and if anything was real here then that had to be it. You struggled to close your mouth, and a collective groan filled the auditorium as you tried to lean to the right to get closer to it's warmth. It felt as if dozens of hands dragged you from your seat and onto your knees as you gripped harder and tried to taste the cock in your hand, to feel if it was real. Kneeling with your ass pressed against the back of 2 theater seats, you finally managed to lick the tip of it, your moan lost in the sounds of your audience as you realized it was real and mine. You caught snatches of whispers between your screams onscreen, yelling at others to hurry before you finished. The thought barely registered as you tried to ignore the feeling of two cocks pounding you from behind, making your ass slap back against the seats with each stroke. Your pants were so soaked that you could feel your pussy juices running down to your knees, and each thrust forward pushed the throbbing warm shaft deeper into your throat. Cold hands slapped at your tits and scrabbled at your nipples with each stroke, and it began to feel like there was a war being waged inside of you. The strange shocking coldness began to fill your insides, clammy against your skin, as if it were going to try to fuck you in every pore. But with every bob of your head the smooth hardness filled you with more and more warmth and awareness. You started to cum as you felt my hands grab your head and push you down, but it felt like there was a battle inside you. It was as if every shadow in the room was pulling you back onto their fucksticks as your own screams from the screen filled your ears, their clawed raspy hands pinching at your nipples and clit, slapping your ass harder as you twitched from each clap, the touch of them making you feel as if you were being filled with ice and electricity, as if it were being pounded and pushed into you all at once. At the same time you realized mid orgasm that the warmth and hardness in your mouth was filling you from the top down, pouring relief into you like dropping mercury into a beaker already filled to the brim with dry ice. You entire body was twisting and jerking as your mouth felt royally fucked, your lips starting to swell from the pounding. You could not tell anymore whether you were riding the orgasm or the orgasm was riding you, and had you mouth open enough or even breath enough you would have kept screaming until your breath only came in ragged gasps. It felt like the whole room was pounding into you with every breath and again with every heartbeat. The orgasms kept hitting harder, like being slapped in the head and on the clit with every one. The darkness started to shift, flashes of brightness filling your vision until there was an explosion of colors as the cock in your mouth finally came. The taste alone was like coming back to life after a coma, pineapple juice and daisies and laughter all rolled into one. And with it everything collided at once. Your insides felt filled with the warmth, the concrete reality of my cum in your mouth. The waves of darkness washed away in swirls of Technicolor eddies filling the edges of your vision as you finally started to come down from your never-ending multiple orgasms. You sucked on the tip of my cock and stared up at me. You breathed a sigh of relief as you noticed a door at the corner of your eye, the exit to the theater. Kissing my balls, you giggled as I said: "So does this happen EVERY time you fall asleep at the movies?" Film Buffs There are three things I hate doing; laundry, dusting, and grocery shopping, and not necessarily in that order. I have no problem ignoring dust, and I can go for a long time before I run out of clean shirts and panties, but there's only so much fast food I can stomach, and I have to have real cream in my coffee. If I'm going out for that, I might as well make a list and get it all done. The handles of the plastic bags I'm loaded down with are digging into my arms and cutting off the circulation in my fingers but I'll be damned if I'm making two trips to carry everything in. Somehow I manage to get the door unlocked and opened without putting anything down but as soon as I step foot inside, one of the bags breaks and my eggs are history. "Fucking motherfucker!" I yell, kicking the door shut behind me and letting the rest of the bags fall to the floor. "Language." Bradley Taylor, of course. Lounging on my couch, clicking through the channels on my TV just as casual as you please, acting like he owns my place even though I haven't seen him in over three months. "Fuck you, Brad," I say, glaring at him on the way to the kitchen for paper towels. "Any time, any place, baby," he says, smooching the air and laughing. I roll my eyes at him on the way back and he just laughs harder. God, I wish I could hate that sound but it makes me want to forget about cleaning up busted eggs and putting away groceries. I'd much rather take a running leap onto his inviting lap and ride him like a rodeo bull. He comes to stand over me while I'm down on my knees mopping up and my eyes involuntarily travel up, fixating for a few lip-biting seconds on his crotch. He's totally freeballing as usual but it's never been so obvious or maybe it's just my vantage point. Whatever, it's fucking hot. Being on my knees in front of Bradley will never not be hot to me and he knows it, the bastard. When our gazes meet, his mouth curls into a pervy smile. "Sorry I haven't been able to come by. I've been busy." "Well, now you're not, so how about helping me out here," I say, looking pointedly at the bags all around me. He looks at me as if to say, "seriously?" but he does it and seeing Bradley toting grocery bags is a bit like seeing a dancing bear, funny and kind of cute but no less dangerous. When he finishes, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me put everything away. "Aw, you missed me, huh?" I dart my eyes at him. "Correction, I missed fucking you. Two very different things. What, did you run out of costumes? I was hoping for Dr. Taylor and his stethoscope, or maybe Plumber Brad, here to unclog my drain. Are we doing the helpful grocery store clerk and the lonely, horny housewife?" "Maybe I just came to see you." I pause in the act of putting something into a lower cabinet. I'm bent over and when I turn my head his way, Bradley's predictably eyeing my ass. He stares a few seconds longer before looking at me with his eyebrows raised and a little one-shouldered shrug like, "What do you expect?" "That is such bullshit, Bradley Taylor." "Yeah, it is," he says, bursting into laughter and I give in and join him. My desire to be fucked far outweighs my need to remain annoyed at him for staying away so long. "So I've got something to show you," he says, with a sly grin. I blush deeply, thinking back to the last thing he had to show me, and he smiles at the same memory. He doesn't say anything though, just digs in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out... "Why do you have a camera?" I ask stupidly. He doesn't answer right away because he's fiddling with it. And then he raises it up between us, cupped in his big hand, and I see the front lens and the flip-out LCD screen on the side. "Camcorder, to be precise. Top of the line. Pretty fucking nice, huh? I was thinking about you when I bought it." "In the best way possible, of course," I say, smirking. "Of course." The thing beeps and a red light on top comes on and he levels it at me. "Smile for the camera, baby." "No way," I say, throwing a hand up to hide my face. "I look like hell." I don't, really, but ironically, I hate having my picture taken. I actually look pretty good today in my little girl next door outfit; no makeup, messy ponytail, white cropped camp shirt and faded denim pencil skirt. "You look like a good girl today." "What do you mean, today? I look like a good girl every day." The camera beeps again as he shuts it off. He does this subtle thing with his face where he goes from looking like he's trying to decide how he's going to fuck me first to looking almost harmless with just the tiniest shift of muscles. His eyes are still stripping me bare, though, and he says, "Then maybe you want to be a little bad. For me. Ain't nobody gonna see this but me, myself and I," dropping a hand to his crotch and squeezing his cock to emphasize the I. The thought of him jerking off to a video of me has me ready to rip my clothes off right here in the kitchen. Not just yet, though. "I can't believe I'm actually considering this. How bad is a little bad?" I ask. "We can start small. You can show me what you have on under there," he says, touching the top button of my shirt. Part of my hesitation is real. I've never made a sex tape and never really considered it until now. It's one thing to fuck someone six ways to Sunday but quite another to let them make you the star of their personal porno. Fucking Bradley Taylor. I can't say no and for a second, I wonder where I would draw the line with him. I sigh and again, it's only half feigned. "Okay, but not in here." I watch him react to the girliness of my room. It's mostly white with a few black accents. The queen-sized bed is a haphazard unmade nest of different sized pillows and a fluffy duvet. All that's missing is a mountain of stuffed animals. We've fucked in more ways than a lot of married couples have but it's still weird for him to be in my room. He sets the camcorder down, shrugs out of the jacket, kicks off his boots and climbs onto my cloud of a bed, reclining back against the headboard like a king on his throne. "Get up there," he says, pointing a ringed finger toward the high footboard. I do it but I deliberately take my time. "Now what?" "Lights, camera, action." He takes the camcorder up again and aims it at me. "Undo those buttons. Slow." When I bring my hands up to do it, they're actually trembling a little. I'm going slowly alright, because I can't get my fingers to work. Once they're all undone, I pause and look up at him, waiting for more instructions. He's watching me, not the LCD screen, with his eyes narrowed and his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. I swear to God, I am not going to survive through this. But if I'm going down, I'm taking him with me. "Show me." I start to part my shirt and then stop. "You promise you won't let anybody see this?" "Fuck, I already told you—" He winces and reaches down to tug at the crotch of his jeans. "I promise, okay? Now come on, let me see those pretty tits." I flash him a little cleavage and get a glower in return that makes my stomach flutter. I open one side, then the other, baring my bland beige bra, but by the look on Bradley's face, you'd think I'd already whipped it off. "Keep going," he says, his voice already growing deep and rough. I shrug the shirt off and have a silly urge to cover myself. The camera adds a dizzying level of intensity. Taking a deep breath, I pop the front closure of my bra and peel the cups back. "Yeah," he says with an appreciative whistle. "Now show me how you like it." The camera whirs again as he zooms in on me touching my tits, first lightly stroking and then squeezing. When I pinch my nipples, I moan and he makes an indescribable sound. When I push my boobs up and tongue them, he loses it. He drops the camera and leans forward like he's about to pounce on me. "You've been fucking holding out on me." "Chill," I say, and he sits back again but he looks like a coiled spring. "You should know by now, I have many talents. I'm not just going to put everything out there and leave nothing to the imagination. Now, shall I continue?" He snatches the camera up again with a dirty sneer and a lift of his chin. "Go on. Take your hair down and lose the skirt. I've been wondering about what color panties you have on under there." I free my hair and look coyly at the camera through the curls that have fallen over my face. "What if I don't have any on?" "You're supposed to be a good girl, remember?" "I slip every now and then. You've been a bad influence." He laughs and then laughs some more when I get my skirt off and he sees the relatively conservative undies I'm wearing. "Fucking granny panties. Those definitely have to go." "You try wearing butt floss almost every damn day," I grumble while I sit back on my ass to work the panties off without flashing Bradley my already slick pussy. Whatever he wants today, he's going to have to tell me to do. I need him to order me around. That's what I constantly fantasize about. I get one leg free and he stops me. "Leave them there. For later." I have no idea why he'd want my panties dangling on one leg but I can't wait to find out. "Okay. I'm ready for my closeup. Now what?" He looks over the LCD screen again and nods. And smirks. Oh shit. "You're ready, huh? Let's see about that. Come here." I slink down the bed like a cat on the prowl. Yeah, he likes that. The camera whirs as he zooms out to get my ass in the frame. "Yes?" I say, sitting back on my heels and smiling sweetly at the lens. "We're going to do a little thing. You're going to look into the camera and do what I tell you, no matter what it is. You think a good girl like you can handle that? Fuck yes! "Funny how the longer you're around, the naughtier I feel. I can handle it," I say, raising an eyebrow and letting my eyes wander to his bulge. He doesn't miss it. He doesn't miss a thing. "You like that?" "Yeah," I say, licking my lips. "Tell me." I look into the camera, twirling a curl coquettishly. "I like your cock. A lot. I can't wait to show you how much." He reaches out and touches my lips with two fingers. "Show me what you want to do to my cock." Keeping eye contact with the camera, I flick his fingertips with the tip of my tongue and then caress the underside of both fingers with a slow, flat-tongued swipe. I swirl around the tips again and then I suck them. I take his wrist in both hands and slide his fingers all the way inside my mouth, until I gag a little and my eyes water. He pulls his hand away and wipes the single tear that's spilled down my cheek. "Works for me." He takes his shirt off, gets on his knees and thrusts his hips forward, putting the object of my desire right in my face. "Go for it." I go for it alright, attacking his belt and jeans with such gusto that for a minute I forget about the camera. Bradley doesn't hesitate to remind me. "Eyes up here, girl," he says, tugging my hair and tilting my head back. I focus on that overbearing lens as I do to his cock what I did to his fingers. When I work the last couple of inches down, he lets the camera droop and we stare each other down, not even breaking eye contact when I have to jerk back and suck air. He gives me a few seconds to catch my breath before he pulls me forward again, going slow for the zooming camera. "Fuck, you should see how hot you look right now," he groans. "On your hands and knees, worshipping my dick...pretty little good girl gone bad. Oh, but wait, you can see for yourself later when I let you watch it while I fuck you from behind." I moan at the thought of watching myself be dirty for Bradley while he's wearing my pussy out and he laughs until I switch gears and blow him like I'm going for broke, until his eyes go unfocused and he's gritting his teeth and I'm sure he's going to lose it and shoot down my throat. "Oh no you don't," he growls, pushing me away and onto my back. He finishes stripping his jeans off while somehow keeping that goddamn camera going. Grabbing me by the hip, he drags me forward to where he's kneeling on the bed. He slides the panties still hanging around my ankle up to my knee and hikes my leg up so that I'm wide open and ready for him and brings the other end up and presses it into my mouth like a stretched horse bit. He gives me a nasty smile and taps my chin. "Don't fucking let it go." When he plunges into me I have to clench my jaw to hold back the stream of obscene words I want to scream out and to keep from losing my grip on the panties. I can moan and whimper though, and I do, loud and long until I get hoarse, and he just keeps pounding into me so hard my poor bed sounds like it's coming apart. Bradley's still filming, holding me in place with one hand on my belly and panning up and down my body with the camera in the other. "You say you missed fucking me? Am I making up for lost time? Huh? Huh?" Each word he speaks is punctuated by a jolt of his hips and a streak of pleasure as his cock hits all the right spots. "Mmm hmmm." I move his hand from my belly to my boobs and he squeezes in time with his strokes before giving my nipples a hard pinch and guiding my hand to my pussy. "Time for your big scene." I finger my clit furiously, dying to give us both what we want. I can only imagine what I look like, all frantic and greedy with my lust-glazed eyes fixed on that camera. I'm going to give him a scene he'll be rewinding until the tape snaps. He grips me behind the knee of the leg that's stretching the panties to the ripping point and flattens my thigh against my chest so he can get deeper and I gasp when his cock finds uncharted territory, letting the panties go but Bradley is beyond caring about that now. "Is that it?" he pants, swiveling his hips and making me cry out. "Yeah," I whisper, my breath shaky and shallow. God, I'm so close and I need it so badly. His pace speeds up and then gets erratic; he's almost there. "Yeah? Ah fuck, come on baby. Come for me." He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and squeezes his eyes closed with pleasure. He goes still. "Fuck, baby. Fuck." His eyes roll back in his head and he sucks in a breath and then he's staring down at me as he goes overboard. I can feel him pulsing inside me and then I'm there too, thrashing around beneath him and digging my nails into the rock hard arm that's got me pinned to keep from flying off into space. When my eyes open, Bradley's on top of me, groping around for the camera and then aiming it at our sweaty faces. I guess he dropped it while I was coming hard enough to throw my back out. "Jesus. That's a fucking wrap." I lay there for a while after Bradley gets up, wallowing in my soft sex-scented sheets and listening to him do what dudes do in the bathroom; take a piss, run the water endlessly, open the medicine cabinet. When it gets too quiet, I crack one eye open to see him standing in the doorway and looking in the direction of the bed, so naked and full of himself it's almost rude. For a moment I panic, worried that he's about to say or do something I don't want to deal with but then he opens his mouth and sets everything right again. "So what's to eat around here?" He tosses something that lands near my head, a damp washcloth. "I'm not going to fuck and feed you. Go see for yourself," I sigh with mock impatience. He raids my cold pizza leftovers, which is almost unforgiveable, and then we have our private viewing party and Bradley fucks me slow and easy from behind, just like he promised. Actually, it's slow and easy until the end of the tape, when he pushes my upper body flat to the mattress and holds me down with one hand on the back of my neck and does indeed fuck me senseless. The tape is just as ridiculous as I expected, so filthy I can hardly stand to see myself. But the part that gets me the most is when Bradley dropped the camera. You can't see anything but blurred sheets but the sounds we're making, the way he goes from words to desperate groans, the way his voice breaks when he comes, makes my pussy heavy with need all over again. I stay curled up in bed, watching Bradley get dressed. He picks up the camera and stuffs it back in his jacket pocket, patting it like it's his most valuable treasure. And then he disappears out the door, his husky goodbye the last thing to go.