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.