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My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 01

By: ElRoylk



Author's note: It starts slowly and builds. If you're looking for a quickie, this chapter isn't likely going to satisfy. The story isn't rocket science, though, so feel free to skip the intro stuff and get right into the sticky parts of Part 2. 

*

As I sit and write these words, I am contemplating the end of one part of my life and the beginning of another. There's nothing in particular that is causing the change - no major life event - I'm not getting married, I graduated college a few years ago, no significant change in my job prospects.

I've done very well for myself, given I'm only 26. I own my own house in a nice neighborhood; I have a respectable job that is challenging but not too boring; I have a good social life and I enjoy my parents and siblings. I'm still single, by choice, and my health is excellent.

I've decided to get out of the sex business. While I have earned way more money than the rest of my friends from high school or college, it is time. My physical beauty is still above average, but I can see it will be a continuing struggle to compete against younger women whose bodies naturally do what I have to work at.

I'm okay with it. It's time. Thankfully, the work has never taken advantage of me, but I can see how easily I could fall into a hole I'd never crawl out of. Quit while you're ahead. That's what my dad always taught me. 

No young girl aspires to go into sex work - at least none of the girls I grew up with. And I never thought I would sell my body, until the summer of my 18th year. It all began with photographs.

The last day of school had come and gone. I had spent the following week partying, relaxing and trying to figure out what the next steps were going to be. I was free of school, 18 and ready to be on my own. Only, now I had to make a choice - get a job or...get a job. On the one hand I could get a summer job and go to college in the fall. On the other, I could delay the whole college thing and get some money together for a couple of years.

I had figured I could always get a job at one of the restaurants near the house. They were upscale, the tips were pretty good, and I knew I could handle the work. Still, even though tips were usually better than a working wage, I wasn't sure I wanted to be on the hook for on-call part-time work. 

I hadn't applied to any colleges, raising eyebrows from everyone except my parents who seemed to be fine with whatever I was going to do. I knew I could always get into the local campus of the state university -- they had rolling enrollment and my grades and test scores were more than adequate. But I was sick of school and all of the games even though my older friends told me college was different...

I was scanning the paper looking at the ads when it occurred to me I could sniff around the car wash where my older brother Kirk had worked a couple of summers ago.

And so, there I was, filling out an application in the waiting room, the receptionist making small talk with me as I answered the idiot-questions. I waited a few minutes for the owner, Bill, to come out and talk with me.

"Julie Johannssen?" He smiled as he looked up from my application. "You a sister of Kirk's?"

I smiled and nodded. He looked me over as guys do, his eyes lingering momentarily on my chest.

"He was a good kid. How's he doing?"

"I think he's really having a great time. He won't be coming home this summer - he got a job out there, I guess." Kirk was having a spectacular time; he had an internship, he was practically living with his girlfriend - no way he was coming home this summer.

"So here's the deal, Julie," Bill said kind of like an uncle, "this isn't typical rub-a-dub-dub car washing, here." 

I knew that already - Kirk used to come home with all sorts of stories of the cars, and the owners, who were serviced by Bill's shop.

"We do almost everything by hand here, and we get paid a small fortune for the service. The point is, it's hard work. Are you sure you're cut out for it?" He looked me over again, only this time his eyes flicked to my arms, not my tits.

I had been washing cars to raise money for the cheerleading squad for several years. Even our half-ass jobs were tough work. Who better to do it than the cheerleaders? We were all in top shape, and several of us had begun exploring the local body-building competitions. I had been lifting weights for three years - I figured I could bench press Bill if I had to. But none of that would impress him. I knew the type. If I suggested I could do it, he'd just give me a ration or make me do something stupid. I knew none of that was evident with my clothes on - in spite of my muscle building, I had made sure to keep everything in proportion.

I smiled back at him, keeping my eyes steady on his. "You bet. I've been washing cars for the cheerleading squad for years. I know how hard it is. Kirk used to come home and tell us about the stuff you guys do. I just love washing cars, sir. Weird, I know, but I think I'd love to spend the summer washing cars!" I made it sound so exciting!

He just shook his head and let out a puff of air.

"Okay," he relented. "Here's the deal. I need a spotter this week. If you can keep up, I'll bring you on board as a rookie. It pays 10 bucks an hour - time and half overtime. We put in a full 40 hours a week, half hour for lunch, two ten minute breaks. No personal phone calls during working hours , even if they're on your own cell- that's what breaks are for - so tell your boyfriends to keep it quiet."

I didn't have any boyfriends who would bother to call me -- we all texted anyway - and I had all night to do that.

"No problem, Mr. Johnson."

"It's Bill, Julie. We're all on a first name basis. Okay, the guys will fill you in on the rest of the rules. You can start first thing tomorrow - 8:00 am."

He left and I looked up at the receptionist. She gave me a wink and called me over. "Congratulations, kid. My name's Becky. I'll help you with the paper work and any other legal government stuff. 

"But let me give you a small piece of advice. I've been here three years and I've watched young women get chewed up and spit out in the shop. No matter what crew, they are a bunch of horny guys who don't know when to quit. There's a few good apples in there, but you got to be careful.

"They don't fuck with me anymore, but it took a little while for them to figure out I wasn't some easy lay. Mostly, if you keep to yourself and don't trust 'em any farther than you can throw 'em, you'll be fine...but if you have any trouble with them, you come to me and I'll help work it out."

I screwed up my face at the thoughts that came racing into my head and absently took the paperwork she handed me, noting I had to get her my social security number and a bunch of other stuff I didn't have handy.

I practically ran home. 10 bucks an hour! I did the math - I'd be making $400 a week, practically all mine I figured. Knowing I wouldn't have any time during the day for the rest of the summer I finally got to the chores and errands I'd been delaying.

* - * - * - *

I got to the shop bright and early, not having slept well the night before. So many questions. Would I be able to keep up? Would they accept me or treat me like jerks? What would I do if the worst of Becky's images actually happened to me? My mind raced. How would I spend the money? Thoughts of new music, clothes, maybe a new phone...

Guys were milling in as I waited inside the door. I recognized a few of them - friends of my brother's from school. I was surprised at how many there were. Looking around the garage I realized why: Bill had some rich clients. Mazaratis, Ferraris, BMWs and Mercedes were all parked in their own stalls. The place was huge, space for at least 20 cars and almost all the stalls were filled. This was a Thursday. Was this a busy day? Was it always like this or did it get worse later in the week?

"You the new girl?" A giant of a guy walked up to me, his face was rough but his smile sincere.

"Hi. I'm Julie." I held out my hand.

"Ben. Bill told me to get you started. You'll be a spotter. You know what that is? Follow me to your locker." He led the way off to the side of the garage to a door marked private. Into a grimy hall with a few doors. "We don't have too many girls working here, so you'll have the locker room practically to yourself. Did you bring a change of clothes?" He was looking me over, again the eyes on my breasts. 

"Uhhh, no, Bill didn't mention anything special. Is there a uniform?"

Ben smiled again and looked like he was going to say something. "Okay. No uniform, but there are strict clothing requirements:

"1) No metal. No snaps, no rivets, no belts, nothing. I see you don't wear glasses. That's good. But absolutely no metal - all rings, jewelry, hair clips. Nothing. Two reasons: 1) we can't afford to scratch these cars, and 2) the stuff we use may corrode anything that isn't gold. 

"2) Goggles at all times. Again, we spray a lot of shit (pardon me, stuff) around and we can't afford to lose our eyes.

"So, the goggles are all over the place. Most guys find a pair that fit and they use 'em. They'll be some in there I'm sure. If not, see me. Regarding the clothes," he looked at me again, "you'll have to get out of the jeans. If you have metal in any of your underclothes, you'll have to figure something out."

I blushed slightly. From his comments it sounded like I was going to have to do this nude. I must have looked dumfounded.

"Sorry. That didn't come out right." He looked a little uncomfortable too. "What I meant, is that you should probably get some sweatpants or something that you can get dirty and doesn't have metal."

I did have a bra on and it had an underwire. I had a sports bra at home, but I didn't think about wearing it. I only had my jeans and a top. "Maybe I should run home and get some stuff. I'm only about ten minutes away?"

He nodded and told me to check in with him when I got back.

I ran as fast as I could. I pawed through my drawers looking for suitable clothing, thinking about being the only woman in a group of guys. I figured it wouldn't be much different than what my squad had to put up with the football team. After three years we'd heard most of it - the seniors would just roll our eyes and give it right back. 

I mused about some of the scenes at the motels when we were on the road. A lot of the squad had no qualms about fucking any of the guys, but I never felt that way about any of them. Actually, there was one guy my first year - a senior - he didn't give me the time of day, but I had a crush on him. Nothing ever came of it - he probably didn't even notice - and I was better off as a result. I had my own romances in high school, but I never wanted to give the impression I was easy. Truth be told, I had never gotten past 2nd base with any of the guys I dated. The attention I got from the football team was a little bit of a turn-on, as long as it didn't get out of hand. Mostly I left the heavy petting to the looser girls on my squad. I was a member of a minority of girls -- one super-religious, a couple shy like me -- who didn't party.

I pondered the shop and thought about that hallway to the locker rooms. The more I thought about it, the more I figured that would be a really stupid place to go being the only female in the shop (I bet Becky never went back there). I guessed I'd be getting dressed and undressed at home. 

I dressed in the sports bra, a light cotton t-shirt and some old sweats. It did nothing for my figure, which was probably the right thing given the situation. I pulled my hair up into a bun and used a net to keep it in place. Taking a last look, I realized I had to remove my bellybutton ring (no metal!), and I was metal free. Weird.

The first day was a little uncomfortable - I was breaking into a clique of jockey guys, many of whom had been working together for at least a year. Ben ushered me through the gauntlet, staring down anyone who started giving me a ration. I was exhausted by the end of the day, my elbows and biceps feeling numb from all the rubbing. 

I had never heard of "spotting" before. When the squad washed cars we just dog-piled all over, slopping water and soap, dragging rags and sponges wherever we happened to be. A bunch of giggly bathing suit-clad young women was entertainment, not a professional detailing service. This place, this place was as serious as a heart attack. Spotting involved careful inspection of each part and piece of the car, inside and out, for any defects be they wax smudges, dirt, streaks, dust, bits of leaves, hair, whatever. Metal had to sparkle, glass completely clear. 

It occurred to me soon after I dug into the job that the spotter had a real problem: if the car had a defect, it was the spotter's fault, but if the team didn't do a good job to begin with, the spotter was responsible for cleaning up their mess. I realized I had to be very careful about who I was working with if I wanted to be treated unfairly.

Throughout the week I watched each of the guys. There were about 8 teams, roughly three stalls per team. They all pretty much clustered the same way each day - rivalries were obvious and the undercurrent of competition became very clear by the second day. I didn't have much choice what team I was put on - depending on when I arrived in the morning, if a team needed a spotter I was usually attached to them. But it also became obvious why the spotter role wouldn't get the short end of the stick: the teams were so competitive that they didn't want to screw anything up or leave anything so important as a completely detailed car to an inexperienced bottom-of-the-totem pole team member like me. 

Ben and Bill were the ultimate spotters. Before they called the owner to tell them the vehicle was done, they would inspect it for almost 30 minutes, a clipboard, chamois and sometimes a toothbrush at the ready in the cases where they found defects. It was nerve racking to watch, so I tried to keep busy on the next car instead of watching them go over my work.

There were several guys I didn't want to have anything to do with. I was wondering how they got their job - from what I could see they had probably been in jail before this. I tried to ask Ben about it casually, but he didn't get what I was driving at. On the other hand, there were a few guys who I thought I could get friendly with -- in their early 20s I figured, great builds, nice attitudes and always treated me fairly.

The place was noisy - the teams swarmed over their cars shouting insults to the others, music blared, the sounds of vacuums, power polishers, water hoses and the intercom all competed for our attention. By the end of each day my ears were ringing. I decided to get ear plugs - there were signs about health and safety, but aside from some of the power tool guys, nobody seemed to care. 

The week proceeded without any drama and I picked up my paycheck on Friday night - $350 or so after they took out my taxes. The most I'd had in my entire life, and I had another 8 weeks to go!

On Monday, Ben greeted me at the door and waved me into Bill's office.

"Julie, Ben tells me you've done an excellent job! To tell you the truth, I'm a little surprised. I didn't think someone with your...frame...could keep up. But he says you've been one of the quickest learners he's had, and you've even had time left over on some of your cars to lend a hand to other teams. That's great news. Given the report, I'd like to expand your duties to include some of the front end work as well. Ben will give you the details. Keep it up and you'll be on lead before too long."

Ben gave me a raised eyebrow and walked me out to the shop to another station.

"By 'front end work' Bill means vacuuming and prep. It's only one step up from spotting, but it gets you onto a regular team. You'll be working with me and Tim - you'll take over the front end and do the spotting. Keep your eyes open and watch what we do in the middle."

Tim was a quiet guy. He always greeted me with a shy smile and when he did talk, it was to point out where he needed me to work. He was handsome, with one of the best builds in the place. Usually by day's end, most of the guys had stripped off their shirts (each time suggesting I should join them), and in most cases I wish they'd left their shirts on, but Tim's body was something to look at. His abs were incredible - a full six-pack, and his pecs were equally well defined. Every once in a while he'd catch me staring at him and he'd blush. Still, he didn't stop from taking his shirt off, round about 3 in the afternoon every day.

The guys started getting more comfortable with me around, especially after they saw the work I could do. It probably didn't hurt that I could dish it out as much as they could. They'd kid me about who I was going to lay, when I was going to strip off my shirt and the rest of the shit I'd heard around the football field and away games motels. Only here, I didn't have the safety of the rest of my squad. 

I never went to the locker room. Ever. I came to work dressed for work and I never used the toilet in the shop. I went down the street to the Subway during lunch. There was something over the top about that hallway and about having a couple of dozen horny worked up guys any one of whom might notice me going through that door. Not.Going.To.Happen. I mentioned it Becky one day on break and she confirmed what I had suspected. At least one girl had left the shop in tears after being harassed down that hall. It was a shock to her that the place hadn't gotten sued. She "sure as hell don't go there. It's the Subway for me."

By the third week, I'd gotten the rhythm of the work; Ben and Tim both began to ease me into the detailing. I was already doing most of the front end prep - vacuuming, trashing, power washing, as well as the back end spotting and a minor detail polish here or there. 

By the fourth week, Ben led me through the details of detailing. I had watched him carefully, but I had no idea how tough it was. He had to stay late that day finishing up 'cause of all the delay I'd caused. By the end of the week, though, I had mastered much of the interior work, getting through the tasks in roughly the right amount of time. By now, I was practically familiar with the whole operation - the only thing I hadn't been given was exterior polishing, the most obvious part to the owners, and therefore the last thing they wanted to give a rookie. While I was wiping down the interior, I'd watch Tim working across the hood, his chest sweating, his muscles rippling. I'd lose it every once in a while, feeling a little electric jolt in my gut or a tingle further down. He'd catch me and I'd practically die watching him blush. 

It was mid-summer and I was feeling pretty confident. I had a great rapport with most of the guys - there were still a couple I wouldn't want to be stuck with alone at the shop, but I was careful to avoid them. The end of my fifth week - I'd made some pretty good money, a little overtime and I decided to go out celebrating with some buds from school. There was an underage club we'd go to - an excuse to get dressed up, dance hard and have some fun. 

"Shit, you look fantastic, Julie!" Brenda slid over making room for me. Someone was handing me a joint as I noticed several others already squished into the car. Shouts and catcalls as I took a long hit. We hadn't been out together for almost a month and there was a lot of catching up to do.

I had put on my "leather" outfit - chocolate brown leather skirt, short of course, long boots that zipped up to my knees, a matching chocolate brown leather halter top and a leather collar with spikes. I had gelled my hair and put my most outrageous bellybutton ring in - a death skull with small rubies for eyes. I had put on dark blush and eyeliner, with some mascara to give my cheeks color - working inside during summer had done nothing good for my tan.


My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 01



I was settling in as the car drove off to the club, listening to the chatter, when my phone made me jump. Looking down, I saw it was Ben from work.

"Hey Ben! What's up?" I hoped there hadn't been a problem with any of the cars I'd been working on.

"Listen, Julie, we've got a little situation here at the shop and I'm wondering if you might be able to help us out."

Shit. I was so looking forward to going out tonight. "It depends, Ben. I'm kinda in the middle of something. What's going on?"

He proceeded to explain that one of Bill's best customers had just delivered a Hummer he needed 'Platinum Detailed' by Saturday morning.

"You're shitting me! Platinum by tomorrow and he dropped it off tonight? How many people do you have on it?"

"That's the thing, Julie, nobody can make it except Tim so far - Bill had given a bunch of the guys tickets to the game, and there's no way to get in touch with them for at least a couple of hours. I got you guys started, but I've got a family thing I've got to do."

I paused, thinking about working all night instead of partying. With Tim. Alone in the shop. The roach coming back my way. I eyed it.

Ben assumed I was waiting for him to say something. "Did I mention Bill's prepared to pay triple overtime?"

I took a quiet hit and did the math - easily 12 hours of work - that was almost an extra week's pay in one night. He didn't need to say anything more.

"I'll be there as soon as I can - probably about 20 minutes." I hung up.

"No way, Julie! You can't go to work tonight! C'mon, girl we were going to get down!"

They all shouted at me at once, but I told them to either let me off at the next corner, or if they were really good sports they could take a five minute detour and drop me off at the shop.

I was focused so much on the overtime, and the blossoming high, I didn't catch most of what they were saying - it was shit anyway, but they were my friends. Even as they tore into me, I noticed we were heading over to the shop.

When I got there, it was mostly dark, a small glow coming through the upper windows in the roll down doors. I knocked loudly, heard the music turn down, and waved my friends away as soon as I heard the door unlocking.

Tim greeted me with a smile and let me in.

"Man, I don't know what Bill was thinking," he locked the door behind him. "There's no fucking way we're gonna get this car done in time." 

I looked at him - I'd never heard him swear before. He was already out of his shirt - he had sweatpant cut-offs - his feet in rubber flip-flops. 

It was a humid night - one of the reasons I had worn the outfit I had chosen. Shit! I realized I couldn't even begin to work on the car dressed like this. Shit! No way I was going home in this outfit at this time of night either. I thought about calling my folks, but they had left town for the weekend. I was looking forward to being on my own for a couple of days.

Fuck. 

Tim noticed just as I did.

"Hey, where's your change of clothes?"

I looked at him with a hang-dog face. "I got the call from Ben on my way to a party. I didn't think about stopping at home first. Shit!" I looked around, wondering if there was anything I could wear, but I knew there'd be nothing. 

Tim sat down on a bench wiping the sweat from his face. I stared at him - his body fairly bristled with muscle - his biceps stood out like small mountains, his nipples poked out of his small areolas...I licked my lips thinking what it be like to kiss them. I shook the image from my mind - where'd it come from anyway? Sometimes I couldn't believe the thoughts that'd spring into my head. I'd seen a lot of guys half-naked, but there was something about his body that just set me off. He looked up, a kind of lost expression on his face.

He sniffed and raised his eyebrows. "Shit. We're never going to get through this. Dammit."

I looked over at the car and saw he'd started prepping for it. All of the tools were laid out, the vacuum hose dragged over, the trashbags ready to go. And then my eyes spotted his shirt. I looked down and thought about it quickly.

I've replayed that part of the scene so many times. I've tried and tried to remember whether, at any time during these moments of indecision, I ever once thought: "Hmmm, maybe dickhead over there could take me back to my place so I can change." That would have been an excellent idea. But apparently neither of us considered it. At least, I can't remember...at that point, I was just not sure how much Tim considered. Ever. Today...today I struggle with believing he was innocent versus cunning. I knew I was fucked up -- the pot hit hard and I was eager for the money.

"I think we can do it. Do you know if anyone else is coming tonight?"

"No. We're it. This is a 12 hour job for three people, I can't begin to think how long this is going to take. What can we do - you can't wash it in that getup."

I walked over to the Hummer and picked up his shirt, putting it against my shoulders. It draped down pretty low - to about the middle of my thighs. I'd be a little exposed, but given it was Tim and the thought of so much money, I was prepared to show a little skin. I walked behind the Hummer so that its blackened windows blocked me from view and undid my halter top. My breasts bounced out sending a jolt through me. I had practically lived in this place for the past month and the thought of being exposed here suddenly made me very very horny. I looked over to see if Tim could see me, and confirmed the windows were still blocking his view. I unsnapped my collar and slipped his shirt over my head. 

His smell slammed into me. Sweat, after-shave and something else musky. The electricity I had been feeling jumped up three notches and I could feel myself getting moist. As soon as the shirt draped across my navel, my nipples hardened. Shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. 

Now, as I slipped my skirt down and stepped out of it, I looked down to see my breasts clearly visible through the neckline. Well, it was this or forfeit the money. I remember hoping Tim wasn't some kind of latent sex maniac provoked by my being nearly nude . I unzipped my boots, removed the bellybutton ring and my earrings, and gathered everything up with my bag into a neat folded stack.

I walked around the car, heading to the office where I figured my clothes wouldn't be in the way or get ruined. I had to pass him along the way there, and I knew he was dumbstruck by what he saw. My nipples were practically poking through the fabric, my ass cheeks just barely hidden by the bottom of the shirt. I was wearing my smallest thong, it had crept up into my ass crack and along my crotch. I might as well have been naked, except somehow this seemed even more sexy. 

"What the fuck?" He exhaled quietly. "I think I've died and gone to heaven." He sported a wolfish grin as I entered the office. I saw him get up, shaking his head and head to the car.

"Let's get to work, asshole!" I shot him a dirty look and joined him at the stall. I reached up to grab the vacuum hose, the shirt rode up my legs to almost expose my underwear. I watched him staring at me as he picked up the trash bags and opened the doors.

As we worked, I vacuuming he trashing, I was careful not to be too close to him or bend over when he might be able to see anything. It became clear there was no way to avoid it, and given we didn't have much time, I got over whatever self-consciousness I was expecting and just got into it. Being naïve and stupid, I just hoped my casual attitude would wear off on him so we could make it through as if it were normal. 

The approach seemed to be working. Even as we were both in the car, vacuuming, pulling seats forward, he didn't make a pass at me. I knew he could see my naked ass in the rear view mirror; it was late and I was getting a little punch-drunk. For some stupid reason, I decided to give him a little show. I bent over the back seats to vacuum the rear area, spreading my legs a little and letting his shirt ride as far up as it would go. Maybe it was his scent, maybe the time of night, whatever it was, I was acting the prick tease and was curious if I could give him a hard-on. I'd never really gone this far before, but something was in the air. 

I wiggled a little trying to get further down behind the seat when I heard him get out of the car. I looked over my shoulder to see him walking away towards the office. I felt a little embarrassed and deflated; then I got worried. Maybe he was concerned about getting into trouble. Shit!

Just then, things began to go wrong. When I turned back to the vacuum, I slipped in between the seats in some bizarre way, sliding deep into the gap between them. I was turned in such a way that my lower arm was pinned away from my sides. Hoping to push myself out of the gap with my upper arm, I let go of the vacuum, but I couldn't quite get a handhold on the seat back or the back deck. The more I struggled, the deeper I was pinned like that kid's finger trap toy. I stopped, took a breath and tried not to panic.

The two seats had pincered my mid section, I could move my legs, and I could move one of my arms, but other than that I was immobilized. I couldn't see over the top of the seats; I couldn't lift my head high enough. With the vacuum's noise and the music blaring, I could barely hear myself; there was no way Tim could hear me.

I took a calming breath and lay still; he'd be back eventually, hopefully soon. After a few heartbeats there was a flash and I turned to see what had happened. With the seats blocking my view, I couldn't see a thing. There was another, and I realized Tim had gone to get the digital camera we use to photograph the cars when we're done. I couldn't see him, but I immediately understood: I was completely exposed beyond the seats, my thong having worked its way up my crotch. No doubt he had a clear shot of my bush, my ass, and probably my labia.

In spite of my embarrassment and anger, I felt another twinge of excitement. How could this be a turn-on for me?

"Stop it, Tim!" I shouted. "Can't you see I'm stuck?" Another flash and I realized I had been squirming my legs; no doubt he caught a particularly good beaver shot.

"Oh, this is too rich," he was shouting, and I saw him peek his head over the seats. He reached an arm over and slid my shirt up my back, popping out my left boob.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I was getting a little panicked and hurt he would take advantage of me like this. "We've got to get back to work - I thought you were nicer than this! Shit, we're never going to get finished!"

Another flash, this time I had been looking at the camera, so I was temporarily blinded. I felt his weight off the seat and when I opened my eyes again I couldn't see him.

The back gate of the car lifted and I bent back to see him smiling at me, the camera ready. He was getting aroused by my predicament - his shorts were tenting out in front and as he walked the material shifted against his penis.

The pang of excitement jolted me and I swallowed at the image of him pushing it into my mouth. I had never sucked a guy before, but just then I could almost imagine doing it. An electricity started building in my groin, and I could feel moisture building with it. What was going on here?

He reached in and I thought he was reaching for my arm. I lifted it to greet his hand, but he moved past me, pulling his shirt completely up my body, over my head with just the collar around my neck. His aroma filled my nose; again the electricity in my groin. I felt my legs rubbing together. 

The flash again, and then finally I hoped he was done. I had been yelling at him the whole time, but the damage had been done and I was just hoping he was going to stop with the pictures and not rape me. 

"No one is going to believe this," he mused, sitting down on the bed of the car just inches from my nose. I could barely make him out through the grey t-shirt, but I assumed he was staring at my naked breasts. My nipples had hardened, each movement he made sent small puffs of air against them.

"Please, Tim. Please let me out. We have to get this car done. I'm willing to forget this whole thing if you are. Just help me, would you?"

He slipped his fingers under the t-shirt and pulled it over my chin and head. Although I had essentially been naked before, I felt completely exposed seeing him looking at me. I could see his erection clearly over his thighs, and again the thought of taking it into my mouth burst into my brain. I licked my lips.

"Tim? Can we move on now?"

He looked down at me, a funny grin on his face. "I've never seen a girl in this position before, Julie. I wish you could see what you look like. Oh, wait, you can. Hold on." 

He fumbled with the camera and then turned the viewscreen towards my face. There was a snapshot of my two legs, spread open, my golden curls clearly visible around the thong, my ass cheeks a bright reflection from the flash. He took it away and a moment later showed me the next one: now my crotch was a bright pink around the thong buried inside my crack, again my cheeks tight and overexposed. He repeated the viewing again, this time my breasts and my face in surprise, and again, with the shirt over my head, my arm over my head exposing both breasts, the nipples clearly raised.

"Please Tim. I get it. How do you think I feel? Just help me out, would you?"

He got up, put the camera carefully on the floor away from the car and came around to the back seat. I felt his hands slip under my legs and with a single sliding push, hoisted me up out of the gap. With my arm free I could help him push me up and I felt him pulling my hips over the seat. He kept backing out of the car, pulling me with him, me struggling to keep from falling until he had me on my feet on the concrete. I was facing away from him, toward the car, his hands still on my hips, his erection now pressing against me through the fabric in his sweatpants.

I was a ball of confused feelings. Scared that he had me at his mercy - the photographs were not something I really wanted him to show the other guys, and I'm sure he had plans to post them somewhere on the net. Butterflies in my stomach at the thought of being naked in front of him, feeling his arousal at my being naked. Angry that he had violated my trust and that I was probably out of a job. But mostly confused that I was getting aroused by the whole thing.

"Hey...Julie?" His tone had shifted suddenly to concern. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." He let me go and walked to the back of the car to get the camera, or my shirt. I hoped both. I turned to look at him, my arms going around my breasts to cover as much as I could.

Maybe this could be salvaged after all. "It's okay, Tim. I get it. You're as horny as the next guy. It's just...I don't know...it's just not very fair to take advantage of me. Could you get me your shirt so we can finish?"

I watched his indecision as he picked up the shirt. He looked up at me again, this time his lust was unmistakable. Oh shit, now what?

"I'd love it if you would work like that for now. Would that be okay?" I thought I saw his dick throb a little as he stood up.

"What? Jeez, Tim, you got to be kidding!" Another pulse of electricity through my groin. 

"Let's go. We've got a lot of work to do, and we can't just hang around. I helped you out of that mess, the least you could do is give me a favor in return."

"Now wait a minute." I stood my ground. This was getting ridiculous. "You did what any decent person would have done - just helped someone out of a tight squeeze...so to speak." We both smiled at the stupid pun.

"You could just go home. I'll try and finish alone. I just thought you'd be more cooperative...that's all." He turned away, taking his shirt and the camera with him.

"Wait a minute. Hold up. You want me to detail this car naked, all night, and when we're done, you'll erase the pictures?" That's not at all what he had said, but I needed to keep bargaining.

"Hah! Good one. To get the photos back we'll have to come up with something more than that. Let's see..." He rubbed his chin, looking me up and down. A warmth oozed into the space between my thighs. I tried to hold still, my arms still covering my breasts. I didn't dare move to re-arrange my thong, it would only draw attention to my bush, and leave my breasts wide open for him to oggle. My eyes kept darting to the pole in his shorts and I resisted the urge to lick my lips. So damn confusing!

"Any ideas?" He looked me in the eyes, a smile on his face that almost melted me. His body was soooo gorgeous, part of me just wanted him to cross the distance between us and give me a crushing hug and kiss. Another part was screaming in anger at his violating my trust. Lust and trust. Lust was definitely winning. I wanted to see his thing, to stroke it, to watch it spurt. I even was ready to wrap my lips around it. Something clicked and a yellow haze drifted over my brain. I suddenly imagined him fucking me in his bed, holding my arms over my head, his erection penetrating me, his tongue probing my mouth. I could feel liquid beginning to soak the thong. Shit!

"Uhhh, Tim?" He was still looking at me waiting for an answer. He raised his eyebrows a little higher. "I've never been in this position before. I don't know what to say." I was starting to cry a little - as much from frustration as anything. "What do you want?" The minute I said it, I regretted it, but then it was like surfing a wave, I just let it carry me to wherever it was going.

"What do I want? What do I want?" He walked around me, watching me, staring at me, all the while the gears going in his head. I could only imagine what he wanted. I'm sure I couldn't begin to imagine what a 20 year old, well built, well hung, male would want with me. The things I could think of only made my thong wetter.

"All right. You're right. We've got to get this car done, tonight! So, here's the deal. You want the photographs back, I can understand that. Let's see... I'd like to see more of you. Yes. That's it. 'course I've already seen most of you." I rolled my eyes and pressed my lips. "But you know," he paused rubbing his lips with his fingers. I stared at those fingers. "I haven't seen all of you."

I raised my eyebrows -- not because I understood what he meant -- exactly the opposite: I didn't have a fucking clue what he was talking about.

"Your underwear, thong, thingie-," he waved his arm at me, "You need to take it off. That's for starters..."

"What? Hold up there, cowboy. None of this piecemeal shit -- what do I need to do to get those photographs back?" It was all I could do to get the words out, the images of being ravished by him blotting everything else out.

"That's it; that...and agreeing to come with me for breakfast."

Breakfast...and work completely naked with this guy...this guy who was currently in my head tearing my clothes off in some dim lit room, stretched out on a bed, held down somehow...all night? I wasn't sure I'd be able to concentrate on the detailing. I took a breath and tried to calm down. Breakfast and work naked. Shit...I was already naked -- that wasn't going to be the problem. Breakfast. "What the fuck. Okay. Sure. I work naked and go to breakfast with you." 

I started to peel them down when he stopped me. A What now? was rising. 

"Not yet. I'll tell you when. Let's finish up the car and then you'll come for breakfast at my house." He said it all in a rush, all the while a wolf smile on his face. 

I just looked at him in astonishment, my jaw dropped open. I never agreed to go home with him! But the reaction from my gut was what made me stop. The thong was soaked by now. I was paralyzed between anger and arousal.

"Okay, then it's agreed. But first a couple more pictures. Hands on your head, please." He was facing the car, I was still turned to the back; he waved his hands around indicating he wanted me to turn away from the car to face him. He began snapping pictures.




My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 01



I was still so dumbstruck by his suggestion I just did as he told me.CLICK. I turned CLICK and faced him,CLICK putting my hands on my head. He snapped another picture. 

"Okay. Now's the time - take off that silly underwear - it's not hiding anything anyway -- and let's see what a fucking fantastic body you have." I just looked at him, my anger rising, but not as fast, hard, or high as my arousal. I'd never felt this horny in my life! I knew I was going to do it. That I'd already decided -- I really didn't want to lose the 300 bucks. I just didn't know how far I was willing to go. Maybe I'd already gone too far. 

He looked impatient. I reached my fingers into the waist band and shimmied them down. All the while he took pictures, probably six in all, the last with me bent over, my breasts hanging down and my hands at my toes.

"Okay, get going on that vacuuming, only this time, don't get stuck, yeah?" And he turned away to screw the camera onto a tripod. I assumed he had removed the memory card, but I couldn't see where he might have put it. 

The rest of the night I was a total nutjob bundle of nerves. With every task, Tim could either watch my breasts jiggle, or I was completely spread open for his pleasure. As we washed the car, it was normal for water to splash, but I thought he was making a special effort to get me wet and soapy. He'd apologize and offer to dry me off, but he never touched me. In fact, the whole night, he had only touched me once, when he pulled me out of the seats.

As the hours wore on, I was getting less self-conscious and more concerned about what the morning would bring. We worked hard - a "platinum" job was excruciatingly detailed, sometimes requiring toothbrushes inside crevices. As was normal, he would stop after each step and take a full round of pictures. I tried to move out of the way, but he insisted I be in the frame. No amount of protesting would appease him, the deadline constantly pushing at us. Every time I relented, making sure to stick out my tongue or look as angry as I felt.

With 5AM rolling around we had finished the initial wax job and were buffing it out. Usually we hand rubbed the finish, but we both knew we'd never get it done in time, so we took out the power buffers, and did the major work that way. Finally, at about 6AM, the sun already poking a few rosy rays on the ceiling of the shop, we stopped. The thing looked great. Not perfect, but pretty darn good. Bill would know it wasn't a platinum job, but the owner probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

I was exhausted physically, but emotionally I was still hyped up. Throughout the night, each time I looked up, I'd see Tim staring at me, his penis at half mast, and I'd get another shot of electricity. With all of the water, he couldn't notice how wet I was making myself, but I was completely twisted about my own arousal and what he was expecting of me.

I was covered in dried sweat, in spite of the various washings he'd subjected me to. He was pretty worked up too, his cutoffs had a growing stain down their back from the night's perspiration.

At 6:30 we had put all of the equipment away, the rags in the washer, and I went to get my things. 

"Hold it." He stopped me with a hand signal. "We need to get a final shot with the both of us."

"Tim! Please. Enough. You have dozens of shots of me. I look awful and ...oh fuck it." I was just tired of the constant negotiation. It didn't matter, I wasn't going to win it. He set up the shot, taking his time to wave me one way and the other. Each time he looked through the viewfinder I felt a jolt starting in my pussy and moving up my spine. It was different from when he just stared at me -- as if somehow the camera stripped something away, or maybe revealed even more of me. He set the timer and joined me near the car. Eight times he repeated the process, one for each side and corner of the HumVee. All of the lights were on in the stall at this point and the moisture from the wash water made the air thick and humid. 

Waiting between setups I could feel the sweat building up under my arms, between my thighs and under by breasts. I knew my hair and face were a mess. As the minutes wore on I got more and more annoyed and confused: what I'd agreed to, why I was so aroused when he looked through the camera, why he wouldn't stop teasing me and just throw me under him, how I'd expect to stop him from going beyond our deal. I still couldn't quite imagine what I'd have to do to get the photos back. 

"Okay," he said, breaking the equipment down, the anticipation evident in his voice. "Finish picking the rags up and let's get out of here!"

He returned the equipment to the office while I did a final site inspection, noticing a spot here, a drip there. 

"C'mon, Julie -- it's getting late!" 

I walked past him, my annoyance uncensored and slipped on my skirt and leather top. I couldn't find my thong. I put on my boots and grabbed my bag and collar.

"You're coming, right?" He held the door open for me.

I just shrugged and walked past him out the door. I had no idea what was in store for me, but I had been riding the wave all night and this didn't seem like the time to stop. 



My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 02



Tim still had my thong, at least I figured he did - I didn't have it on, and I didn't see it lying around the shop.

"Hey," I asked as I slipped into his car, "do you have my underwear?"

He smiled at me and nodded, looking down as my skirt rode up my thighs. The seat was fabric and a little rough against my legs. I tried to pull my skirt down, but it was useless - it was so short there was little point. 

He pulled away, explaining he had to do a little grocery shopping so we could have breakfast. Conversation was difficult with the radio blaring, and I was just as happy. I was a little numb contemplating what had just and what was about to happen.

Just thinking about the past 12 hours made me a little dizzy. I'd just spent most of the time buck naked in front of the one guy I'd been fantasizing about for the past month. I suspected he was pretty uncomfortable - he'd had a hard-on on-and-off for the entire time, and based on what I'd heard from the jocks, he probably had a case of the blue balls. I'd heard enough stories to know my best bet was to get him over it as soon as possible. But that was the thing. Would I know what to do and how not to let it get out of hand? Or maybe keep it in hand...

Stories. That's the entire sexual experience I'd had up until that point. With one exception. I didn't have any skills at getting a guy off. I'd never touched a penis -- the only ones I'd seen hard were in porn my friends would rent for parties. Shit. 

The car smelled. Of grease and wet carpet and sweat and just...old car. As he pulled away he sniffed the air a little.

"Do you smell something?" He looked over at me, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah! Your car, man. It stinks."

"I think I'm smelling something different. I'm thinking I'm smelling....you?"

I started to blush. Excited and a little scared and...free.

"It is you, isn't it?! You smell wonderful. I can't wait to taste you."

I just sat there, fidgeting. I bit at my fingers, wondering what I was getting into. The image of him burying his face between my legs made me giggle a little. I'd never had a guy touch me there like that. "Whoa....what clause did that come under?"

"I was planning on eating your bearded clam for breakfast."

The sheer crudity of the statement, and the way he said it with some fake actory voice, made me laugh so hard I hurt. Nerves, adrenaline from our all nighter, the fact he really was a totally nice guy, and the idea that he might be my first...anything...just poured out of me in that laugh. It was infectious; he kept wiping his eyes and trying to catch his breath. 

We got to a small chain grocery store apparently near his house. He suggested he wouldn't be long, and if I wanted something to go get it. Once inside, however, he pulled me over and whispered in my ear.

"It looks pretty empty. Come with me to look at some cereal."

I had no idea what he was being so conspiratorial about - I hoped he wasn't planning on shoplifting - that would be a great way to end the night, looking the way I was in a skimpy leather skirt, no underwear and no sleep.

"Okay," he stopped me at the end of the aisle. "I'm going to look for a couple of things here. Do me a favor and go down to the end of the aisle there and look for something on the bottom shelf. When you've found something you think I might like turn and show it to me."

I looked at him completely dumbfounded. He just raised an eyebrow and got a gleam in his eye.

Shit! He wanted me to flash him, in the store, possibly exposing myself to anyone else who might come along. Of course, it being 7AM on a Saturday, there was little chance of that, but still! My gut cramped up and I felt the electricity shooting through me again. Why was I excited about this? Why would I agree to it? In a quieter voice I reminded myself that I'd already been flashing him all night. The voice that should have pointed out this wasn't part of the original deal somehow had gone silent.

I did as he instructed, rebellion overcoming fear. I found a couple of cookie boxes I liked, near the bottom shelf and picked them out. Looking down the aisle, seeing the coast was clear, I squatted down, turning towards him to show him the cookies I'd selected. At the same time, I spread open my knees, letting the skirt ride up practically to my waist and showing him my cookie. I almost fell over at the expression on his face: complete desire. I couldn't stop laughing as I worked my way back to him.

I kept my eyes on his bulge as we checked out. He didn't seem to mind that his thing was swaying every time he took a step, or that it seemed to pulse when I rested my hand on his butt. I was starting to get into this; I realized I was teasing him as much as he was pushing me. My growing sense of excitement at where this might lead was way more intense than the anxiety at losing my virginity to him. Today. Would I be able to stop? And far more critically -- would he? I was certain if I let my legs open up too much I would leak.

"Are you getting hungry?"

We were driving, it was 7:30 and I hadn't had anything to eat since 3PM the day before. I realized I was starving - the trip through the grocery store hadn't helped matters, and even though my stomach was in knots at the thought of what we were about to do, I really was hungry.

"Yeah. Starving."

"I'm thinking of making some eggs and sausage when we get to my place. Do you like eggs and sausage?" He had a weird grin on his face, and his eyes kept darting down to my groin.

"Yeaahhh," I said, drawing it out. I was confused a little.

"Well, you could start on mine before we get there, if you want to satisfy yourself." He reached his hand down and pulled on his shorts, exposing himself to me. 

I just stared at him, my eyes traveling between his face, his eyes and his growing cock. The one time I'd even had something like sex with a guy was the time with Timmy Pederson. And that really didn't count. He had pulled out his penis at prom, and had suggested I give it a kiss, but before I could do anything he had ejaculated. Luckily for me, it missed me, otherwise I'd have had some explaining to do about the stains on the dress. 

I had been eyeing his bulge all night, and this was exactly the situation I had been thinking about: what I'd do if it came to this. For the last several months in school I had been debating whether to go after a couple of the jocks -- to finally cross that line I had drawn for myself. I almost did it, just before Spring Break with a sophomore, but thankfully hadn't followed through -- he turned out to be such a jerk. 

My stomach tightened into a little ball, and my eyes must have gotten wide, because he started smiling even more. 

"You've seen a guy's prick before, right? Haven't you given head?" He had slipped the shorts all the way down to his knees, the car wiggled a little as he adjusted his hands. I watched as it grew stiffer, pointing up to the steering wheel. He was circumcised. Not that I really cared, but I'd heard they were cleaner that way. The thought of putting the thing he pissed with into my mouth still disgusted me a little, but my own excitement at the thought of my first blow job was taking over.

"Uhhh, noooo. I haven't." I edged a little closer, wanting to get a better look. His pubic hair was dark and curly, not as dense as mine. He had short black hairs down his thighs, they stood out against his pale skin. His cock was pretty stiff by now, its head a kind of purplish pink. I could see a vein pulsing down one edge. What would that feel like against my tongue, I thought.

"Go ahead. Just take it easy. I've got a case of the blue balls you wouldn't believe, staring at you naked all night. Here, let me have your hand." He reached over and took my right hand, gently pulling my arm across me, twisting me to face him. He placed it under his sac, moving his balls onto my fingers.

They were hot and his sac was filmy. I lightly wriggled my fingers, lifting them up and feeling them cascade down. Like small dumplings, they kind of moved on their own, the skin around them wrinkly and sweaty. I could smell something musky, not like his butt, but another smell, a male smell. I took a long inhale, trying to identify it. I kept my fingers moving slowly, feeling his balls move from one to the other.

I watched his erection grow stiffer. Now it seemed to pulse at odd moments, not necessarily when I was fondling him. 

"We've got a few minutes still. Since you have the eggs nicely handled, why don't you give the sausage a try?"

I wasn't sure what to do, but I leaned over, pursing my lips to give his head a kiss. He laughed a little when I kissed it, and told me to open my mouth, that he wouldn't hurt me, and that he promised not to cum. He assured me he would have me swallowing his cum by the end of the day, but not the first time. I shuddered a little -- not only at the thought of swallowing his cum, but that he'd be doing it to me again. Still, the excitement of sucking my first cock, and on a guy I could really fall for, was intoxicating.

I slipped my lips over his head, letting some drool fall on the opening. I moved down further, sliding my lips over his shaft, sliming his head with my tongue. He was salty and hot. I stopped when it started to press against the roof of my mouth and I just hung there, feeling his shaft with my tongue, my nose tickled by some of his longer hairs. I pulled up, like I'd seen in a porn film a little while back. I was at a sleep-over and my girlfriends and I were so grossed out by the scenes, but now I tried to remember exactly what the woman did.

I pulled up, sucking hard, creating a vacuum, until my lips felt the ridge of his head, moving further, letting it slip out with a pop. He moaned! I made him moan. I started to get even more excited - I could make a guy moan, just with my mouth! His balls suddenly shifted in my hands and I could see the sac start to contract, pulling them closer to his groin. The skin became hard and wrinkly - I took a little between my finger and thumb and rubbed it in a circle. He pushed his pelvis up, urging me to take his cock again.

I slipped over it again, trying to see how deep I could go. I had heard about girls taking their boyfriend's all the way into their throat, but I couldn't see how that was possible. I didn't want to risk it in the car, and besides, there was no way. The position I was in, it kept poking me in the roof of my mouth, or bumping against my cheek. I swirled my tongue around it as best I could, feeling him pulse. It wasn't as salty now, I was practically choking on my saliva. Each time I brushed the meat of my tongue against his head, he jerked and moaned. I couldn't believe I was doing this, and at the same time I felt a power I'd never had before.

All of a sudden several things happened at once. I felt his balls practically crawl up into themselves, he turned the wheel and the car bumped; I figured onto a driveway. I pulled up rapidly, dragging my wet lips across the shaft, feeling it swell. I looked up to see that we had entered the parking lot to his apartment building, and I felt a splash of hot wetness on my chin. Looking back down, I saw white strings of cum bubbling out of his cock, each pulse coinciding with a small moan.

I brushed at the glob on my chin and started laughing. He looked over at me, a huge, satisfied smile on his face and he giggled a little. I looked back down at my first conquest and saw his penis subsiding, drifting off to the side, his sperm all over his lap, intertwined in his pubic hair, dribbling down between his legs.

He stopped the car, pulled on his shorts to cover himself up, rustling his hands through my hair.

"That was sweet! And close! I told you I wasn't going to make you swallow that, but that was cutting it a little close." He was still smiling and so was I. I was jazzed I could make a guy come with my mouth. It felt good. And then I wondered what it would taste like. For some reason I hadn't thought about our original deal. I had agreed to breakfast and here we were.

He unlocked the back door to his apartment. It led into his kitchen where he dropped off the groceries and threw his keys into a bowl.

"I've got to take a shower and clean up. I must smell something awful. And, 'course, I have to get this stuff out of my pubes. You're welcome to join me..."

Maybe he thought being vulgar was cute. I scrunched up my face and reminded him he'd been kind enough to give me a shower all night. In spite of feeling the dried sweat in various crevices, and the thin film from his cum on my chin, I politely declined the offer. Instead, I turned to empty the groceries, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he exited.

Looking up through the small dining area, I could see him walk into the bathroom and prepare to use the toilet. Of course he'd left the door open. From where I was standing, I could see him standing, turned slightly away from me, his tight buns pointing my way and the stream of pee arcing into the bowl. I licked my lips; the thought of swallowing his cum returning. A small pulse went through me and I realized I too had to pee. 

I walked to the bathroom just as he was finishing. I waited just outside until he was getting into the shower. He turned around. Time seemed to go like that -- a little jerky, like I couldn't remember actually getting from the kitchen to the bathroom. I just ended up there. I didn't want him to know I was there -- the sound of the water covering up any sounds -- I thought I could just sneak in when he was under the shower.

"Changed your mind?" His penis was wagging. I couldn't keep my eyes off of it. No hiding now.

"No...uhhh, I really have to pee."

"Aright - go ahead. Just don't flush while I'm in the shower - the pressure in this place isn't so great."

I stood there waiting for him to close the curtain, then pulled down the seat and squatted. I knew I wouldn't relax enough to pee, with him being right there, but the sound of the water did its trick. I let out a small sigh as the pee started to flow.

"Hey, you look great."

I looked up in alarm to see him staring at me from around the curtain. I couldn't stop; it felt too good, but I blushed and started to get angry.

"Spread your legs a little, I really want to see this."

"You fucking bastard! Just let me alone so I can pee!" I finished up and wiped myself, flushed the toilet before I could stop myself, and then washed my hands for good measure. Hearing his laughing and humming switch to curses was small satisfaction. But then it occurred to me. I do know how to say no. Maybe I could be a little less spirited about it, but it was the first time. Note to self: Learn how to say 'no' firmly and nicely. On top of the lesson learned, I noticed a glow starting in my crotch. Would everything today be doing this to me? What hasn't turned me on yet in the last 12 hours?

He joined me in the kitchen a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around him, my eyes drawn to his abs - they were so gorgeous I just wanted to run my fingers over them. His penis pushed at the towel a little as he worked, beating eggs, pulling down pans.

I was a little surprised at how clean the house was. I had noticed it when we first came in and then again in the bathroom. No mildew, no stray hairs, the toilet was clean. No dust bunnies. It was cleaner than my folks' place. The kitchen was the same way: practically spotless. 

He directed me to make some juice, had me set the table and then breakfast was served. He mentioned he'd been a short-order cook not too long ago and had learned all sorts of tricks in the kitchen. He talked more in that few minutes than I think I'd heard in the four weeks at the shop.

The food was good. It was hot, tasty and hit the spot. As we sat across from each other, the morning sun beaming through the window, the glow in my groin spread along with a desire to revisit his cock in my mouth. He was sitting practically naked; well, actually naked, but I couldn't see below the table. When he sat down, he had removed the towel and suggested I might be more comfortable without my clothes on, but in spite of having spent the entire night stripped, eating naked in his kitchen just seemed too weird. Now, after my stomach was full, I felt a tug-of-war between just going home and going to sleep and somehow satisfying the growing the heat between my legs.

"You're looking tired, Julie. Are you ready for bed?" 

I knew what he meant; he didn't need to smile to get the point across.

"I am getting pretty tired. Do you have any coffee?" I didn't want to go to sleep - not here, not yet.

"Shit. Coffee. Yeah, let me get that." He stood up and I stared at his half mast cock and mat of pubic hair. His thighs were like a dancer's, articulated and sinewy. If I had been next to him I would have run my hands up between his thighs to feel his sac.

I continued to stare at his butt. So tight. He had the coffee maker going and then he turned back to the table. I thought he was going to clear it, but suddenly he ducked down and before I could react, he had dragged my legs open, pulling me to the edge of my chair.

"I need a little creme before my coffee," I heard him say, and then his mouth was all over my pussy, his tongue dipping into me. I'd never felt anything like it and I didn't know how to react. My girlfriends had boasted about the guys on the team who'd gone down on them, but I always chalked it up to just talk. 

At first I froze, and then his hands went behind my waist, pulling me into him. His tongue darted into me, a small torpedo of flesh opened me up, penetrating my vagina. I thought I must have smelled, or tasted awful, or something, but he just seemed to be more excited, nuzzling me, licking at my slit and then focusing on my now stiff clit. 

He was careful to circle around it, teasing me, each time he glanced over it I jerked a little and let out an "Oh!" He moved the flat of his tongue against it and pressed harder, rubbing into me, like I would do myself with my fingers. His fingers gripped my cheeks, massaging me. The whole night of tension suddenly welled up and I felt my juices starting to flow harder. 

I moaned, my hands making fists on the table and then he brushed his tongue against me one final time, my orgasm spilling out with a long drawn out gasp and intake of breath. He held me, sucking my juices, the slurping noises returning me to the room. I pulled away.

"Okay," he said, returning to making the coffee, wiping his face with the back of his hand, "let's talk about what you're going to do."

I raised an eyebrow. "What I'm 'going to do?'" I should have just walked out of there, that would have been the smart thing to do.

"Yeah. To get those photographs back." He had turned back and I saw his cock sticking up, almost erect. Apparently he had some ideas in mind. He caught me looking at it. "How did that feel?"

I stammered. Too many things were hitting me at once. The echoes of the orgasm were still reverberating through me, the images of me being nude all night, flashing him. Flashing him in the grocery store and the thrill it gave, and then the memory of sucking him off and the power I had felt. On top of the exhaustion, the food beginning to send me into a coma. I wasn't sure what he was asking about.

"I'm...confused."

"Really? About what?" He sounded confused. "You seemed to get off on my tongue just fine. You didn't seem to have a problem posing for me all night, or exposing your beautiful pussy in public. You even seemed to like sucking my cock. What exactly are you confused about?"

Even though I had just thought the same things, hearing him list everything out loud stunned me. My mind raced and I stopped to take a breath. When he had been eating me, I was shocked. When my girlfriends talked about it, I had always figured I'd give it a try, but I imagined it would be with a boy who hadn't done it before, and it would be tentative and scary for him too. I hadn't thought it would have been as casual as Tim made it. And I sure hadn't expected it to feel as good as it did. The posing...I didn't pose for him...well, except for the grocery store...the memory of everything made me squirm a little. I still hadn't answered him.




My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 02



"Aren't you worried about what I'm going to do with the pictures?" He was smiling at me in a teasing sort of way. The fantasy of guys like him jacking off to me made me squirm a little more. I shifted in my chair.

"I think it's really rude that you took them." A strong offense is the best defense. "In fact, I think it's rude you made me work naked..."

"Bullshit, and you know it." 

I stopped, momentarily confused again by his blunt interruption.

He walked towards me, his cock even stiffer than before. It didn't wag quite so much, more like a thick baton. I tried to push away from the table but I was stuck in the chair and only succeeded in making a fool of myself. "No. Stop. What are you doing?"

He put his hands around my upper arms and gently pulled me out of the chair, tipping it over backwards. "I'll prove it to you; you like being stripped naked and you like it when you are exposed. You are exhibitionist."

"Stop. Tim. Please. No." I wasn't sure what I was protesting -- his handling me, the thought he might be right, or \where this was leading. I really didn't want to lose my virginity this way, and I was pretty certain I wouldn't stop him if he pushed. Some part of me really believed what he was suggesting: I was still here, I hadn't walked out of the shop, I had flashed him. Maybe I really did get off on exposing myself. I tried to resist, but only a little. I was strong enough to give him a run for his money, even though he was stronger. It wasn't because of his advantage that I didn't protest more: the feeling growing again in my belly was harder to overcome -- it was distracting and...disturbing.

He pushed me backwards up against the counter, facing the room; lack of sleep, the growing electricity in between my legs and a morbid curiosity fogged my judgment. Even though he held both my wrists in his right hand, I knew I would have been just as compliant if he simply told me what to do. With his left, he pulled my skirt down below my knees, pushing them the rest of the way to the floor with his foot. 

"Put your hands on the counter." He said it quietly, without any menace; he let go of my wrists and I did as he asked, just as I had figured. The sensible part of my brain was probably screaming at me, but it was locked outside, behind a fog of sexual tension. I felt it leave my body to watch the scene -- like a demon perched in the top corner of the kitchen ceiling, smiling wickedly, licking its lips waiting to see what I would do. Watching myself as if in a trance, I moved my hands to grip the counter, my elbows pointing backward, and saw his hands unbutton my top, pushing it off my shoulders. He slid it down, holding my arms in a leather vice.

His fingers returned to my front, tracing a ticklish trail from my chin, down my neck, over my nipples, where they danced for a moment, raising them, puckering my skin around them, and down to my belly button to my pubic hair. He looked at my face and smiled. 

My eyes darted to my reflection in a window. No need for an imagined demon -- I was on display: completely naked, my legs spread open, my bush under his fingers, my breasts exposed. The heat grew, along with a tightening of my stomach and I knew what he was saying was true.

"Wait right there." He turned and I stared at his erection, now definitely stiffer, and then his tight buns. I licked my lips and stared at myself; What are you doing?  I mouthed the words to the reflection, looking down at my exposed pussy and feeling it pulse in response. 

He returned with a tripod and a video camera.

"Shit, no." I let out a moan. At the same time, I felt a rush of excitement and fear. I remember even now the feelings I had of being completely exposed, of holding the counter of my own free will, of my anticipation of being taped, the thought of where those images would end up, and the image of lots of young men and boys jacking off to me. My struggle between fear and exhilaration would continue for months before I came to grips with how much I truly enjoyed giving others pleasure just from showing off my body.

"Stay there. You know you want this on tape. I bet you've never seen your own orgasm, have you?"

It was a safe bet and he knew it. I was struggling with myself: my hands wanted desperately to cover myself; my groin kept urging me to see where this was going. My groin kept winning. I moaned a weak protest and looked at the face in the window -- I didn't recognize it -- a woman's face, filled with an emotion I had never seen. Lust?

The red light came on and he advanced towards me, his penis' head a darker purple and the shaft thicker. He stood to the side, in profile, letting the camera catch my reaction as he continued his caresses from where he'd left off.

Within moments, he had slid his third finger between my lips. I was so wet, from my cum, from his saliva, it just slipped right across the opening, coming to rest on the tight skin between my vagina and my anus. I shifted, thinking how close he was to pushing it into my ass. Then he pulled it back a little and with a curl to the first knuckle just starting pushing it into me. 

I stared at the red eye of the camera staring back at me, and I could see all of the viewers stroking themselves, their cum spurting from their cocks as they watched him finger fuck me. Out came his finger, then in, oozing through me. Over and over, every once in a while stopping to vibrate my clit. Then out again. This time, a second finger, and I moaned a little, rolling my eyes under my lids. Then three fingers and I gripped the counter with my hands, my knuckles whitening, the feeling was so intense. I pushed my pelvis forward, trying to grab his fingers more tightly. I could only imagine the scene the camera captured.

When his lips touched my nipple I opened my eyes and knew I didn't have long before I came. His fingers moved in and out, faster than before, and I saw my whole body vibrating, my breasts jiggling with each movement, my butt pushing into and away from the counter edge. I looked at the image of the woman in the window -- her face flush, her mouth open, her eyes...I couldn't see my eyes, but I imagined them hungering for more. The sounds of his fingers squishing into me, and my grunts only made me more self-conscious; my self-consciousness increased my arousal. In no time I had my second orgasm, the camera catching my moans. I pulled my hands away to grab his head and hold it against my breast, my knees beginning to buckle.

We stood there for what seemed like an eternity. I could feel my heart beating against his lips on my breast. He kept his fingers in me, gently moving them, careful to avoid my clit. I opened my eyes and stared at the camera, now that I had cum and it was subsiding. Only now, as I was coming down, did the worry of what he would do with the tape start to creep in. 

I yawned. The intensity of the sensations, of the situation I was in, the continued presence of the camera were no match for the prior 12 hours. I was exhausted.

"Hey," he looked up at me. "You must be wiped out. Let's get you to bed."

I started to protest, even as he led me to the bedroom. I really didn't want to be here anymore.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you. I can see you've had enough." He gently rubbed my back, his hand traveling to the top of my butt, sending soft jolts through me. I looked down and saw his prick was still hard, wagging against my hip.

"I don't want to..."

"What...you don't want to what?"

"I don't want to...fuck you." I said quietly, even as he laid me on his sheets. They smelled clean, with a faint scent of him. I was so tired I couldn't move.

"It's okay. I don't want to fuck you...."

"What?!" I could barely stay awake, but I knew he had just insulted me.

"What, what? You just said you didn't want to do it...so we won't. Besides, when we do it for the first time, it will be on tape."

I woke up early in the afternoon. The sun was shining on my face and I realized I had slept uncovered. He was sleeping next to me, snoring lightly. I had to pee really bad, and I didn't want to sleep anymore, even though I was still exhausted, 'cause I knew I'd be up all night.

I peeked into the bedroom after flushing the toilet and saw he was still fast asleep. My skirt and top were bunched up on the floor of the kitchen where he'd dropped them. Looking across the cozy living room, its curtains drawn, and seeing all of the other windows faced into his small backyard I decided not bother putting on any clothes -- something had already clicked, a new found freedom. The echo of his fingers and tongue, and the feeling of his cock in my mouth, kept a low level flame burning inside.

I sat on his couch and flipped open his laptop.

"I see you're admiring my collection..."

I jumped at his voice. I had been so into his digital photo collection I didn't hear him get up or walk in. "I wouldn't say admiring." I responded without letting on I had been startled.

"Well, you're looking pretty engrossed."

"Grossed out is more like it. Friend of yours?" He was standing next to me by this time, his penis nearly brushed my ear. I could smell his musk and it started that electricity in the pit of my stomach.

The photograph on the screen was a close up of a woman's labia, peeled apart with clips held taught by nylon ropes. She was shaved and recently had been fucked, or at least masturbated--her inner lips were inflamed and her entire region was bright red.

"Marcia. It was her idea."

I flipped to the next shot. Pulled back, the woman, Marcia, was now visible in the frame: spread eagled, naked, ankles and wrists tied to the bed, the clips on her labia a small detail in an otherwise overwhelming image. Her face looking away from the camera, eyes closed, mouth in a grimace -- pain or pleasure? It didn't seem to matter. If I hadn't seen dozens of similar shots I would have screwed up my face. Instead, I just calmly flipped to the next snapshot.

I looked at the clock and realized I had been sitting here looking at his photographs for almost two hours and I hadn't been through even half of the folders.

"Was it all of these other women's ideas as well?" I waved my hand at the screen.

He smiled a little bashfully. "Actually, she was one of the first. I learned a lot about some women's fantasies from her."

My crotch pulsed a little at the thought. I had seen so many different naked women, in so many positions his statement stopped me. Tied up, in the act of stripping, sucking cocks (his I assumed), outside, inside, on the bed, on the counters, fucked in their ass, fucked with dildos, cocks, with fists. Some had nearly made me choke at the thought; others stirred something in me I didn't think was possible.

"Here," he reached onto a nearby bookshelf, opened a small wooden box and offered me a joint. "Light it up and we can talk about it."

I hesitated...not because I don't partake -- pot and I are long-time friends, but I still wasn't certain where I wanted this to head. I suppose I could have left his house just as soon as I woke up. The likelihood of getting any of the images back from him seemed remote after looking at his 'collection.' But I was young, naïve and hopeful we could strike some kind of deal. All of this as I reached for the joint and lit it up. It was strong. 

"What do you do with them?" I handed him the joint and waved at the screen, the smoke muffling my voice.

"Oh...they come and go. I'm not seeing anyone at the moment, but I keep in touch; if not, they keep in touch with me."

I looked up. He was a million miles away, his face looking at the screen but not focused, sucking in the smoke. His penis was starting to harden. He had misunderstood my question.

"The photos, dick-head. What do you do with all of these?" I could only imagine where they ended up. 

He smiled timidly, handing me back the J. "Oh! Yeah. They bring in quite a bit of dough, actually. You're looking at about $90K a year there."



My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 03



I practically choked on the inhale, pulling the joint away. "What?!" I looked back at the screen and mentally flashed through the several hundreds of pictures I'd just seen. I shook my head and tried another toke, looking back at his cock. He was still standing next to me, the head of his thing bobbing up and down.

"Hey! Don't get the wrong idea. That's just my take! I split it with 'em. Hell, it's their bodies and their fantasies, I just take the pictures and make sure they get properly distributed and paid for."

He slid down onto the couch next to me, his naked thigh brushing against mine. He pushed me aside slightly, reaching for the keyboard. His arm brushed my nipple; I felt it start to pucker. 

"By the way," he started typing, " Ben called while you were asleep. He said the customer was very pleased and gave us shit for doing such a crappy job..."

I smiled kind of funny, taking another drag.

"...and he was curious about the pictures."

I did choke this time, the smoke whooshing out of me with a terrible coughing fit. I put down the roach and tried to catch my breath.

"Hey...try to hold it together there, cowgirl." He rubbed my back, trying to comfort me. The little electric shocks from his fingers against my naked skin reminded me I was deeper into this shit now than I was 12 hours before. "I have the pictures. They're safe. Ben was just wondering why they weren't in the camera."

Pot does funny things to me sometimes. Depending on the weed and a bunch of other things, the body rush can be intense. When I fuck up, like coughing, I knew the rush could be bad. I sat back trying to get control of the spasming. He got up to get me a glass of water, and even in the middle of my growing panic, I watched his cock bobbing in front of him, somewhere between hard and soft. His balls were tight against the base, his scrotum smooth. As the pain from my lungs began to subside, I started to feel my nerves tingling, especially around my clit and vagina where he'd been playing. It was hours ago, but the sensations were still fresh, made all the more intense by the smoke. 

I closed my eyes and breathed as steadily as I could, taking a long drink. Usually that helped, but in this case all of the images I'd been browsing came rushing towards me, one after the other. With each heartbeat the pulsing between my legs got stronger. I felt as if my vagina was swelling, like there wasn't enough space between my legs for it anymore. I opened my thighs a little to give it space, but it didn't help.

"Look." I snapped my eyes opened and looked. His fingers flicked across the keys, bringing up a browser. In a moment he had several windows open, each one pointing to a different porn site, each of those with dozens of women in various states of exposure. "Marcia." He pointed to the photo I had just been looking at, only now it occupied a slot among several similar shots, none of which were even remotely interesting in comparison. "Top performer on that site. Shit, look at the competition...as if."

"What do you do, Tim?" The high was coming on stronger now; I was beginning to feel a lot like Alice falling into the rabbit hole. 

Things definitely weren't what they seemed to be a few hours ago, but one thing was clear: I was sitting naked, next to a naked guy, looking at naked women, and no one, not a soul, knew where I was. The body rush, my racing heart, didn't help reduce my growing anxiety, or the hallucination of my gigantic vagina.

"That's a good question " He stopped and turned to face me a look of pure desire on his face. I felt pinned where I was, the last 24 hours collapsing around me, the images of the women, my own willingness to play along with him. I watched, frozen, as his hands gently separated my legs, opening me wider, his eyes traveling down to my crotch. "An equally good question would be: what do you want me to do?" 

The moment his hands touched my thighs an electric spasm shot up my spine, crystallizing the body rush into a single tight nerve. I gasped and my arms jumped involuntarily. I didn't intend to swat him away -- they just jumped like when a doctor tests your reflexes. 

His penis did its own little jumpy motions lifting off his thigh as his fingers brushed my pubic hair. His index fingernail lightly brushed my clit and I jumped again, the pulse of electricity forcing a moan from me. I could feel moisture beginning to seep down to my entrance. My heartbeat was going crazy, the body rush in full bloom, my body started to vibrate uncontrollably. I moaned, not because of what his fingers were doing, or about to do, but from the rising panic that sometimes comes with the beginning of a high. I shifted on the couch, trying to find a position that would calm everything down and realized I had made it easier for him to access me. On top of everything else I blushed, a deep red starting from the top of my head that I knew would be pink to my nipples.

"It's okay," he said as his finger gently stroked me. "I know you want it. Nobody would sit here looking at all of this, naked in a guy's house, if they didn't want it." His voice was like honey and his touch was electric. All of a sudden, all of the craziness going on everywhere else in my body suddenly stopped -- the entire energy focused on the tip of his fingers. It was like a laser beam was stroking my lips; lips the size of the couch cushion, my vagina blossoming into a Georgia O'Keefe flower. What had been an electric buzz now became a super-nova spreading at the speed of light from the tips of his fingers up into the spaces inside my abdomen, swirling like a small electric tornado. Over the years I've revisited that moment and tried to describe it, to myself, to my closest friends, but I've never been able to capture it -- electric, exploding suns, none of it makes sense.

The hot glow, centered in my groin, swirled up towards my spine, a thin finger stroking at the base of my brain. I was so fucking high and all I wanted was to feel him stroking me, honing the electric current tighter and brighter. And then, everything shifted again, the sensations all focusing on a twisting complex intertwining, a snaking of sensations that shot into my brain. I laughed, even then, at the clichés of fireworks, but in some weird way, that's exactly what happened: the twisting energy shooting up my spine suddenly burst into my brain like those bright white balls you see at fireworks displays. No booms, just bright. So bright I closed my eyes instinctively, even though the explosions were inside my head. 

Suddenly, in one of those intense 'religious moments' I had a clear vision of what I should be doing for my life. All at once, all of the loose ends I had been ignoring suddenly wove themselves into a clear pattern -- the brightness in my head lighting up a path towards a future, clear and so certain I could practically touch it.

In that moment, the twisting energy fed by his fingers flitting over my clit, I knew I could easily do what some of those women had done. I had a better looking body, and I had some better ideas for what would turn a guy on. Just sitting there, with Tim doing all the work, I had given him an erection for the third time in 12 hours. 

I groaned as his finger entered me, the probing finally pulling me out of my vision and I sat back against the couch, opening wider for him. I wanted to cum and I wanted him to make me. I wanted him to photograph me, just as he had videoed me earlier in the day. The image of being videoed as I orgasmed pushed me over the edge; as the orgasm pulsed through me, my cunt grabbed his finger, pulling him in deeper. I groaned so loudly I laughed. I'd never made noises before...but then again, I'd never done it with a guy quite like this before.

The high hit full tilt, my brain blazing with ideas about what I would do. He kept pulsing his finger inside me, rubbing my clit and a spot deeper than I usually reached; I panted and put my hands on his wrist.

He kept his finger in me as he shifted, lifting his leg over me. I looked down at his cock, now hard and sticking up at my breasts, his hand crossing his body to disappear between my legs. He rose up on his knees, our combined weight on the couch pushing us into the cushions. The position was anything but relaxing, but I could tell relaxation wasn't his intention. He put his free hand on the couch back, just behind my head and leaned up.

I knew what he wanted and I hesitated only a little. He had said I would be swallowing his cum before the end of the day; apparently this was it. His finger kept me going...I didn't know what it would be like to take his crème in my mouth, but I was so stoned and turned on there was nothing that could stop me. 

I leaned my head down, tucking my chin and curling my shoulders and upper back. The point of his penis was in easy reach of my lips. I darted my tongue out to tease him, letting it graze across the tight head. I lingered at the hole for a moment, feeling its texture on my tongue tip and tasting the salty tang. Slowly, with as much patience as I could, I slipped my lips over his head. I paused at each stage, consciously counting to five heartbeats before doing something new.

I let my tongue just rest against his head, feeling his faint pulse. I knew he was in agony: he kept pushing his pelvis against me, trying to get friction and motion. With each push I would pull back, making sure my lips and tongue didn't move. 

After each pause, I'd slip a little further down, trying to determine how deep I could take him, wondering what I would do if (when!) he shot his load in my mouth. I figured if I could get him deep enough, I wouldn't taste much of it, shooting it down my throat. 

I moved my hands up to feel his sac. I couldn't see it, but I just had to feel it. I let my fingers play across it lightly. The skin was crinkly, like when my nipples got hard, only the wisps of pubic hair gave it a different texture. And then I felt his balls moving and it all got very tight and before I could react, I felt him pumping into me, pushing my head onto his shaft and I pressed my lips tight against him and felt his cum pulsing up until it hit the back of my throat, hot and sticky. 

I panicked for a minute, thinking I was going to choke, even as he kept pushing more into me, but the feeling passed as his jism slid down, coating my throat. I kept sucking him, licking his head, feeling his balls pulse. I had this insane sense of power: I had done this! I could do it again (assuming he could get it up anytime real soon) and I wanted to! The taste was salty, and kind of soapy. I didn't like it; mostly the texture -- the sliminess was gross -- but it was doable, especially if it came with that sense of power.

He groaned and pulled away, letting me lick the last bits of his juice from his head. He jerked as he pulled out and he fell back on the couch next to me, his finger pulling out of me with a slurping noise. There in front of me was Marcia with her pussy spread open and I just started laughing. I could do this! I could suck a guy off and turn him on, just by being naked, and I knew I could do it remotely: just being naked would cause hundreds, maybe thousands of guys to jack off to me! 

And now, I realized, I could make some serious cash doing it. And I could see very easily how I would be spending the next several years of my life. I sat, sweaty and panting, looking down at his sad little penis, deflated and resting between his thighs. He turned and looked at me, smiling. I realized I was starving -- I hadn't eaten since early that morning and the pot had given me the munchies. I also needed to get the taste of his cum out of my mouth.

"That was fuckin' great, Julie. Fucking great." He couldn't stop smiling.

I nodded my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing what I was really feeling. I knew I needed him, but there were considerable negotiations still. "Hey, Tim. I'm so hungry. I think I should be going, yeah?"

He looked at me blankly. "Uhhh, we could grab something if you wanted. I'd treat."

I really didn't want to spend much more time with him -- I needed a shower -- I was covered in sweat, from the night's work and the day's sex; my pussy was itching from dried cum. I knew I must look, and smell, like shit and it was obvious, even if he could stand me the way I was, he would try to advance our play beyond oral sex. I wasn't sure I would refuse him and I wasn't ready to give up that part of me. On the other hand, the thought of making a meal for myself at my empty house depressed me. 

"Uhmmmm, okay...maybe. There's just one thing," I got up to retrieve my skirt and top. "The photographs...and the video...I need them from you. I think I've held up my side of the bargain, and I'm not ready to..." I turned my head to see what he was saying.

"Yeah. No problem. Yeah. I'll get the card -- just pop the tape out of the camera. It's cool."

He returned from the bedroom in his shorts and a t-shirt, the card in his hand. "There's just a little problem, though, now that I think of it."

I looked up at him, ready to get pissed, slipping on my boots.

"Seriously, I'm not sure what we'll tell Ben -- we didn't get a shot of the car without you naked next to it!"

I smiled grimly and thought about it. "I'll figure something out -- let me take it home and see what I can do."

"Listen," he started again, handing over the card. "I know you think I'm just trying to get into your pants, but...you've seen what I've got..." I tried to ignore the double-entendre, my eyes flicking down to his shorts. "...and I have to say, you have something natural, something I've only seen a couple of times. Seriously. Listen to what I'm saying: you could make some serious money here." The last said with enough sincerity I almost believed it.

I took a quick detour to the bathroom, peed and took a look at the horror that was my face and hair. A little soap and water took some of the grit off my face, but there was no helping my hair -- my brush just pushed the knots around making them tighter. No sense in even putting on lipstick -- it would turn a disaster into a catastrophe.

I thought about what he'd been saying. I was still pretty high, and the rush from the second orgasm was still echoing through me. All of that, along with the fading vision made any rational thinking difficult. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of what I might do, whether it was from anticipation or fear I wasn't sure. 

He suggested a diner between his house and mine, offering me another joint on the way. I was hitting that point in the high where I needed a lift or just sleep it off -- that slight paranoia-like depression. I probably should've begged off, but being young and stupid I ignored good sense.

By the time we got seated I was so toasted I couldn't think straight. The menu all sounded great and I ordered way too much. I remember because he joked about it.

"How do you stay so thin eating that way?"

I giggled, more nervous than amused. "I'm fucking famished. I haven't eaten anything since this morning..."

"That's not quite true," he opened his eyes to emphasize his point.

"Shut up, dick head. Let's talk about something more serious: what we're going to do on Monday." I had been worrying about how he would treat me in front of the other guys -- I liked the work and I needed the money, especially now after I had seen my future unfolding in front of me.

"What do you mean?"

"Today...last night...it didn't happen, yeah? I don't want to suddenly hear Billy, or Mark, or shit, Marcio, suggesting anything...."

"Shit, Julie, I don't know a day when those guys don't give you a ration."

I shook my head, watching the waitress set down my milkshake. "Not. The. Same. And I'll know it. So -- you fuck with me on this one and I'll scream rape so loud you'll be sorry..."

"Don't. Don't go there. That's terrible. It wasn't rape and you know it. I thought you had a good time?" All hurt and concerned.

I must have smiled; I was thinking about his tongue and his fingers and his cock in my throat. He relaxed a little and smiled back. 

"Are we good?"

"Are you going to keep your mouth shut?"

"Scout's honor."

The food arrived and we didn't talk for a few minutes.

"Uhh, Julie?"

I looked up and saw something different in his eyes. Oh shit. Here it comes.

"Would you like to go out..maybe see each other again?"

24 hours earlier, if he had asked me out on a date, I would have melted, jumped at the chance. Now, after how he had treated me, I wasn't so sure. He was still attractive -- his body was a real turn-on -- and he was really sweet...it's just that I'd never done any of that stuff before and I felt as if he had stolen something from me...even though I couldn't point to a single instant when I didn't want to do any of it. So fucking confusing!

"Maybe," I answered non-committally.

"Well," he said pulling out a pen and writing on a napkin, "here's my phone number, email address and facebook contact information."

"Jeez, Tim, it's not like we're not going to see each other, every day, for the next...like, forever." I took the napkin.

"Yeah, but if you don't want to have everyone wondering what's up at work, I figured we should hook up privately."

The 'hook up privately' sent a pulse through me and I looked down at my plate, thinking about all that might entail.

He dropped me off, finishing the joint just as I left his car. The house lights were still on as I had left them the night before, a paper and the mail at the front door. I let myself in, waved him off, how sweet he waited for me! and practically ran to my bedroom. 

I loved having the house to myself -- it wasn't big, but it felt huge when my parents weren't around. First stop: strip off what little clothes I had and hop in the shower. 2nd stop: knock back something from the liquor cabinet. 3rd stop: look at those pictures and figure out what to put back on the memory card.

And I loved walking through the house naked -- the sense of freedom, of the air brushing on my naked skin -- I loved it. I decided to use my parent's shower -- it had double heads with a massage function. Stepping into the spray, I let the hot needles scour the days' sweat and grime from me. The feeling of the water rivuleting down my body when I'm stoned is fantastic. It's as if my skin reaches for the water, sipping at it, or like each drop is a little massage. I felt my muscles relaxing, realizing for the first time how sore they were -- from being up all night working, from sleeping on a strange bed and from sheer tension.

Just standing under the two streams, the full enormity of the last day hit me like a body block. My knees sagged and I almost started to cry.

"You stupid twit! You stupid stupid twit! Why did you let yourself get into that situation!" The memory of being stuck, my ass and pussy exposed and photographed! , I sobbed, as much from exhaustion and relief as sadness. The high had started to peak -- I was on the downward side of it, when the melancholy and paranoia start. The intensity of what I'd done, combined with the drug, was almost too much to bear.

As my hands lathered my pubic hair, though, a second wave of arousal billowed up. I had done it! I had sucked a guy off! I'd had an orgasm -- two orgasms -- from a guy!  Exhilaration began to overwhelm the self-incrimination: the memory of Tim's tongue bringing me to an orgasm, of being pushed against the counter. I dropped to the shower floor on my knees, my hands holding my vagina and I sobbed.

Nobody had ever touched me there. I had never let a boy see me naked, let alone feel me up. In one day, I had not only stripped, but I had been photographed, finger fucked and tongued. Not to mention giving a blow job -- twice! And videotaped! The feelings swirling through my body -- the struggle between the pleasures I had felt -- and given -- and my plans -- my plans for how it all should have happened made the tears flow. Tears of relief, of excitement and...loss. 




My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 03



With a fresh terrycloth robe wrapped around me, I filled a glass with rye whiskey -- I knew it was a bottle they hardly ever drank and I'd looked up the brand months before-- not very good stuff. With the high finally leveling off, my mood a little improved from the shower and cry, I sat down at the computer to see what I could do about the photos.

Slipping in the card, the system immediately popped up a thumbnail viewer. Cars. Lots and lots of cars. I scanned to the last couple of rows and saw the little images of me and Tim next to the HumVee. 

I took a swig from the glass. "Here goes nothing," and clicked on the last image.

My eyes immediately locked on the naked woman on the screen. The woman staring back at me was unfamiliar. So beautiful and so angry. I didn't realize it, but I was actually taller than Tim. Not by much, but definitely taller. My legs, so long and beautifully proportioned. I had always seen my hips as too wide, but from this perspective they were perfect. I couldn't fathom who this person was staring back at the camera.

I flicked to the previous one, and then the one before, and in each, the same image -- a long tall, thin woman staring back at me. 

I took another swallow, letting the liquid warm my insides. I'd hoped the alcohol would help me come down off the pot -- a combination that had worked wonders in the past. 

I got to the pictures when the car was still in process and I gasped. There, staring at the camera, was a beautiful woman looking so frail and innocent, her hands on her head, her nude body on display to the viewer. 

I looked at those legs, and then I had to be sure, opening the robe to look at the legs attached to my body. Sitting in the chair, they were flattened and wider than what I saw in the picture. 

Her breasts were nicely proportioned too. They looked so much better than I ever saw them in the mirror. Was it putting my hands on my head? Did that somehow improve their shape? I opened the robe further and looked down at them. From this angle they looked small. I never felt they filled out my chest properly, stopping inside the frame of my shoulders, leaving too much breast bone between them. But in the picture they looked fuller, rounder -- the spacing between them actually setting them off rather than being the desert that had annoyed me. I put my hands on top of my head and looked down again, seeing them pull up a little. A pulse went through me at the thought of Tim watching me this way.

And then I saw the shot of Tim pulling my top off: a disembodied, headless torso, my breasts slightly sagging toward the HumVee's deck. I closed my eyes at the intensity of the feelings. "You stupid twit. Such a stupid twit!"

I had to check the first shots -- the ones he'd already tried to show me. When the image of my pussy, trapping my thong, my pubic hairs in focus, curling slightly around the lips, popped up in front of me, I gasped, my hands going to my mouth. None of the pictures I'd seen at Tim's house had as strong an impact on me: this was art, not porn -- at least, it was more art than porn. Tim either had developed a great eye, or he had gotten lucky. I flicked to the prior one and again, the image of my pussy, framed by my trapped legs sent a jolt up from my groin. Unconsciously I opened my legs and leaned forward to study what it was that made this such a striking image.

I had never seen myself this way -- and except for the fact I was there, I'm not sure I would have known it was me. I recalled health class, in which some of the girls decided to look at themselves with mirrors. I didn't go along with them as a group -- I was too shy -- but I did go home that night and look by myself. Seeing my pussy exposed in the photograph was nothing like I remembered from that day. The thong sliding into my crevice, leading the eye to a place that at once promised more but teased; the hair, thickening towards my triangle but pulling apart to reveal the beginning of pinkening, slightly glistening skin. I shifted, feeling the beginning of my arousal.

"No wonder." Tim had said he'd never seen anything like it. Maybe it was true. The hundreds of images from earlier in the day came flashing through my memory, only a couple giving me even a sense of this beauty. Was it Tim's eye, or was there something inherently beautiful about my pussy?

I flipped forward again, to see my exposed breasts and then my removing my thong, then standing, submissive to Tim's suggestion, and finally exposed and angry. The feeling of being exposed, of being captured on camera, came rushing back to me. I imagined a camera on me right then and the feelings intensified. I wanted to find a camera in the house to see if pointing it at me would increase the growing warmth from between my legs.

I hadn't really played with myself until only a few months before...maybe it had been a year. My girlfriends had talked about it, but I had never really explored masturbation. Even the word turned me off. But now, looking at myself so exposed and imagining a camera pointed at me I moved my hand down my neck, across my nipple. I could feel the skin tightening there, crinkling, and the memory of Tim's sac came back -- how it crinkled and moved as if alive.

I needed to feel myself, to cum again, the echoes of Tim's tongue and fingers on me. I really wanted to see if the video of his stroking me, of my orgasm was as powerful as the experience itself had been. And then it occurred to me that I really wanted to see Tim jack off to me. To prove my body could make a man release through nothing but looking at me. The beginning of the idea began right then, but I wouldn't realize it fully until much later in the evening.

I downed the rest of the whiskey and switched my attention to the video file, letting the system download the photos to my system where I could fuck with them. I rummaged around until I found our video camera, my robe falling open to expose my breasts and sex to the air. Being in my parents' room, grabbing the camera, was particularly arousing -- maybe the idea of being caught, even though I knew they weren't coming back for another day, or maybe just being in a less traveled part of the house. Whatever, the electricity was getting intense and I hurried back to the computer to see what I looked like on my video debut.

My mouth went dry as I watched Tim fingering me against the counter. From this angle, or maybe with this camera, my breasts looked different -- closer to the way I imagined them, my hips wider than the shots in the garage. His hand played between my legs, my hands apparently trapped behind me on the counter. The look on my face: longing, fear, arousal, until the orgasm blew through me, my jaw relaxing and the squishing sounds of Tim's finger blending with my moans. 

I looked down to see I had left a wet spot on the robe and licked my lips. The epiphany I'd experienced earlier in the day came back as a weaker echo. The feeling of everything being 'just right' returned, even though the crystalline clarity from earlier in the day was missing.

I knew several things:

1)I wanted to make guys cum just by looking at my body. The sense of power added to my arousal. My fingers drifted between my legs as I reflected on my future. 2)I could make some serious cash doing this. If Tim was right, and I had no reason to doubt him, I could clear an easy income just showing off my body. 3)I needed Tim's help -- maybe not forever, but at least initially. At the same time, I needed to stay in control and he had the advantage there. Still, I could see ways to take advantage of the situation. 4)I would need to learn everything there was about this 'business.' And I needed to learn more about business in general. If not at the University, probably at the local Community College. I needed to understand the financial possibilities, legal possibilities and just all the stuff I needed to do to make this really happen. This was the first time in a year I'd had any sense of purpose about college and that feeling was almost as powerful as the growing glow between my legs. 5)I needed to protect myself -- not just physically, which was immediately obvious -- Tim's finger was probing more intensely, the memory almost wiping out my remarkable clarity, but legally, financially and emotionally. Just because boys liked to see me naked, I would have to figure out how to make all of that 'just business' and still find a way to have emotional intimacy with the guy I really loved. That seemed like it would be the toughest thing

I had to stop and catch my breath before I spent the whole night just fucking myself. I started to transfer the video, confirmed the photos were off the card and broke away to take care of a serious bout of munchies.

It had grown dark. If I flipped on the lights, there was a small chance someone would see me flouncing around the house naked. The thought did nothing to calm my nerves, only adding to my arousal. 

"Fuck it." I turned on the kitchen lights and tried not to think about Henry Goodman next door. Two years younger than me; he was probably waiting for this chance to jack off. A pulse traveled up my spine. I looked again at the bank of windows bordering Henry's house. 

Twilight made a silhouette of their roof. No sign of life in any of the windows, upstairs or down. I crept around the table, not that it was shielding my nudity from anyone who could see in...well, at least not my upper half. My hand crept down to cover the fur between my legs, my fingers feeding the growing sweet itch there. 

The house seemed unoccupied. I ignored the fact that beyond their house other neighbors had a clear view of these same windows -- I wanted to believe they couldn't see that far or make out that much detail.

I opened the refrigerator to see what I could make out of the leftovers my folks had saved for me. My mind wasn't completely on the task, as I put containers on the counter. Henry Goodman. I wondered how small his prick was. I wondered if he really would drop his pants and just stroke it in front of the window as he watched me.

And then my imagination, fueled by the pot and alcohol, took a leap: what about Dr. Goodman? Would he be watching me? Would he be taping me? I shivered at the intensity of the feelings traveling up my spine, moisture building inside my pussy. My fingers drifted down again to see if I was leaking, only to be trapped by the need to stroke myself.

I stared at the dark house through the windows, imaging son and father in separate rooms, each staring at me finger myself while they stroked their cocks. I closed my eyes imagining the scene, pressing my hand into pussy further, fanning the glow into a flame.

This wasn't going to go anywhere. I could tell. I needed to stop and focus on my meal and get back to the main task upstairs before I was too tired to deal with it. I had to get my image off those photographs, however or wherever I could, and if not, make sure they weren't on the card. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with the rest of my evening.

"Hello?" 

He was home. Shit! Here goes nothing.

"Hi Tim. It's Julie." I put down my fork and steadied my breathing. My nipples were as hard as they'd ever been, from the cool air and from my arousal. Sitting at the kitchen table, watching the Goodman's arrive home, I was practically vibrating from nervous energy...and a thin blue white twisting cord of horniness from my pussy all the way to the base of my brain. Their curtains were closed, on the lower floor, but I had no idea if any of them had gone upstairs and possibly seen me. I was leaving a wet spot on the seat.

"Hey! Wow. What a fucking day, yeah?"

The master of understatement, my Tim. 

"What's up?"

I wasn't sure how to continue now that I'd taken this step. I wanted to cum so badly, to relieve myself from this pressure growing inside me. I knew I could just go upstairs, lie on the bed and rub until I came, but I needed something more.

"Julie? Are you there?"

"Yeah. I'm here. Hold on." I was having trouble catching my breath. "Uh, Tim. I...I was wondering...do you have a web cam?"

Now it was his turn to be silent. Heartbeats seemed like years. "Yeeessss. Why?"

"I...well, I...I really am turned on right now...I'm sitting in my kitchen completely naked, thinking about what we did today, and...I don't know, something happened at your place...last night...whenever, and well, I really wanted to do it again." It all came out in a rush. I'm not sure exactly what I said even, my breathing seemed to have started again.

I could hear him breathing softly. "What did you have in mind...did you want to come over and use my webcam?"

Ha! I mentally logged the idea and laughed a little. "No, not exactly. I've got my own. In fact, I was thinking we could video chat..."

"Video chat. You want to video chat?" 

I couldn't tell if he was fucking with me or really just dumb. "Yeah...but....shit. It was a stupid idea. Sorry I called. I'm such an idiot."

"No! Wait! Hold on. You got a web cam, no problem. Do you have Skype?"

I kept him talking as I moved upstairs to the computer, re-wrapping my robe around me.

"What's your signon?" I entered his name and waited until his image appeared. He was sitting on the couch, his face lit up and a little fish-eyed. I could see him staring at my image. "Okay," I started, taking a deep breath. "I want to know, what do guys like?"

He looked at me, wondering how to answer. "Lots of shit. Almost anything you could imagine: breasts, cunts, sucking cock. Fucking. The usual stuff. But then, there's guys who really get off on weird shit too: animals, fetishes, bondage, women on women..." He stopped to see what effect his words might have had. I shifted in the chair, trying to figure out how to get him to do what I needed.

I nodded and let my hand drift inside my robe, rephrasing the question: "What do you get off on?"

He smiled, licking his lips. "That should be obvious, yeah?"

I cocked an eyebrow, waiting.

"Photographing beautiful women like you." He sat back and I could see he wasn't wearing a shirt but he still had his shorts on.

"I want to watch you cum," I said quietly.

His only reaction was raised eyebrows and a little smile. "You liked it today, hmmm?" He adjusted his screen and his camera, his whole torso now visible to me.

I was waiting, my fingers brushing over my nipples, not so much to stimulate them, but to feel how erect they already were. A part of my brain noted the crinkly skin again. What did I love so much about crinkly skin? I missed what he had said. "What?"

"I said, 'I figured you'd seen plenty of my cum this morning.'" He was smiling, teasing me, even as his hands were opening his shorts.

I licked my lips both in anticipation of seeing his cock again and in memory of it. I could feel its smooth head against the roof of my mouth. "The lighting over there is terrible." Two could play at this game.

He got up, his shorts still on his bulge barely visible. The empty couch suddenly lit up and he re-entered the frame. He slipped his shorts down, his penis springing out. Of course he wasn't wearing any underwear. Were all boys that way?

"How am I supposed to cum if you're just sitting there dressed?"

I blushed. I remember blushing and I don't know why. The thought of undressing in front of the camera, in front of him, as I watched him get erect -- there wasn't a good reason for it. We'd already been about as intimate as two people could get. A day before if someone had said I'd be stripping for a guy on my web cam while I watched him stroke himself I would have choked on my own spit. Today, now, I was still blushing.

I began to loosen the tie to my robe, watching him the whole time. He began to drift his fingers over his stiffening penis, just the tips lightly dancing from his balls up to the head. It wasn't fully stiff, pointing off to the side. His eyes were riveted to his screen watching my every move.

"You want to really turn a guy on?" 

It was obviously rhetorical and I didn't respond, stopping to wait for him to continue.

"Strip really, really slowly."

I didn't have much to take off, so that was going to be a challenge. The belt was already untied, so I focused on it, moving it to the side and back again, the tease of a promise that I might actually open it. In my head I was cracking up: we both knew I would be naked in moments, but not rushing into it raised the level of anticipation, and the level of his cock. I looked up to see he was stiffer, pointing up more than sideways. His fingers had begun a brushing motion .

I pulled the belt off to the side and ran my hand inside and up my ribs to brush across my breast. Slowly, very very slowly I began to move the robe off my chest with the back of my hand as I caressed my nipples -- as if it was by accident. I didn't look at the screen directly, paying more attention to my body than to his, but out of the corner of my eye I could see his hand motions changing again.

I felt cool air on the edge of my areola and quietly pulled the robe open, exposing both nipples to the camera. I could feel moisture leaking out of me. Looking up I watched him staring at me as he pulled on his cock. 

"Let me see your pussy, Julie. Open up the robe all the way."

He was leaning forward, his erection now almost pointing to his bellybutton, his hand wrapped around it. I licked my lips and smiled, slowly pulling the robe open and with it my legs. I felt my lips opening, imagining the liquid dripping down. 

"Sweet. You're really turned on by this, aren't you." His voice was husky; I let my hands drift down to my triangle, just barely resting my fingertips at my entrance. His sac was almost smooth in the low-res image, his balls tight up against his shaft. 

"Are you close?" I barely whispered, my throat dry.

"Alnost, Julie. Almost. Do me a favor, yeah? Slip your fingers into your cunt and show me how wet you really are."

I winced at the word. It wasn't something I thought of when I thought of myself. It was a name the guys called the girls on the squad when they were dissing them. My hand was already there, my fingers playing with my lips; I watched him watching me, his hand now wrapped tight around his shaft. I slowly slipped my fingers inside me, not because he asked me to, and in spite of the crude way he asked, but because I knew he would explode for me.

As my lips peeled apart, I could hear the soft sucking sound. Any other time I would have been mortified at hearing my vagina, but at that moment I knew, if Tim could hear it, he would only get more turned on by it. I moved my chair forward, pushing my pussy as close to the computer as I could get it. 

His moans were only a little louder than his hand, a soft smacking echoing back the slurping from my fingers.

"Is this what you were expecting, Tim?" I raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling my fingers out of me, a string of mucous bridging between them and my labia. I was coming down off the rye enough to realize what a fool I was making of myself, but still high enough to not be self-conscious. I could tell he was close.

And then...he grunted a little and fell back. I watched as an arc of cream erupted from the tip of his penis, landing with a silent plop on his chest, the rest pumping out in globs onto his belly. YES! I had done it again! The sense of conquest was more powerful than any orgasm I would be experiencing that night. I just stopped and stared at him as he continued to softly stroke himself, forcing more glistening gel from his purple head. 

I realized how uncomfortable a position I had gotten into and sat back into the chair, my fingers still playing with my clit and lips.

"Julie?" He looked a little dazed, smiling at me. Seeing my raised eyebrows, he continued. "Could you do me one more favor?"




My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 03



I shrugged a little, the glow of my accomplishment still pulsing through me.

"Could you lick your fingers for me? It would make the weekend complete for me." 

The way he said it: so thoughtfully and polite. My face was a neutral mask, but inside I recoiled at the idea. I had never tasted myself and hadn't planned on it any time soon. But seeing what he had been willing to do for me, I took his request seriously. 

Was I becoming a slut? 

I remember clearly the thought came slamming into my brain so hard it gave me a headache. It wasn't the last time I would struggle with the idea of having sex, not out of love or romance, but in exchange for something. Maybe not money this first time, but definitely a transaction. 

My hand had trailed out of my open slit, up my belly and froze between my breasts, my eyes staring at his staring at me. Would I go through with it? And if I did, where and when would it end? What would he ask me to do next? 

I moved my fingers to my chin and smiled at him, licking my lips. I could smell my scent and could almost taste it. Almost, but not quite. I decided I wasn't ready for that right then.

"Maybe next time, Tim. I had a lot of fun today. Thanks!"

He looked crushed and started to reach for the laptop to shut down the connection.

"Remember," I stopped him, "Monday. Not a word or there'll be hell to pay, yeah?"

He smiled a little and nodded with a wink before he signed off.