Film Buffs

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There are three things I hate doing; laundry, dusting, and grocery shopping, and not necessarily in that order. I have no problem ignoring dust, and I can go for a long time before I run out of clean shirts and panties, but there’s only so much fast food I can stomach, and I have to have real cream in my coffee. If I’m going out for that, I might as well make a list and get it all done.

The handles of the plastic bags I’m loaded down with are digging into my arms and cutting off the circulation in my fingers but I’ll be damned if I’m making two trips to carry everything in. Somehow I manage to get the door unlocked and opened without putting anything down but as soon as I step foot inside, one of the bags breaks and my eggs are history.

“Fucking motherfucker!” I yell, kicking the door shut behind me and letting the rest of the bags fall to the floor.


Bradley Taylor, of course. Lounging on my couch, clicking through the channels on my TV just as casual as you please, acting like he owns my place even though I haven’t seen him in over three months.

“Fuck you, Brad,” I say, glaring at him on the way to the kitchen for paper towels.

“Any time, any place, baby,” he says, smooching the air and laughing.

I roll my eyes at him on the way back and he just laughs harder. God, I wish I could hate that sound but it makes me want to forget about cleaning up busted eggs and putting away groceries. I’d much rather take a running leap onto his inviting lap and ride him like a rodeo bull.

He comes to stand over me while I’m down on my knees mopping up and my eyes involuntarily travel up, fixating for a few lip-biting seconds on his crotch. He’s totally freeballing as usual but it’s never been so obvious or maybe it’s just my vantage point. Whatever, it’s fucking hot. Being on my knees in front of Bradley will never not be hot to me and he knows it, the bastard. When our gazes meet, his mouth curls into a pervy smile.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to come by. I’ve been busy.”

“Well, now you’re not, so how about helping me out here,” I say, looking pointedly at the bags all around me.

He looks at me as if to say, “seriously?” but he does it and seeing Bradley toting grocery bags is a bit like seeing a dancing bear, funny and kind of cute but no less dangerous. When he finishes, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me put everything away.

“Aw, you missed me, huh?”

I dart my eyes at him.

“Correction, I missed fucking you. Two very different things. What, did you run out of costumes? I was hoping for Dr. Taylor and his stethoscope, or maybe Plumber Brad, here to unclog my drain. Are we doing the helpful grocery store clerk and the lonely, horny housewife?”

“Maybe I just came to see you.”

I pause in the act of putting something into a lower cabinet. I’m bent over and when I turn my head his way, Bradley’s predictably eyeing my ass. He stares a few seconds longer before looking at me with his eyebrows raised and a little one-shouldered shrug like, “What do you expect?”

“That is such bullshit, Bradley Taylor.”

“Yeah, it is,” he says, bursting into laughter and I give in and join him. My desire to be fucked far outweighs my need to remain annoyed at him for staying away so long.

“So I’ve got something to show you,” he says, with a sly grin.

I blush deeply, thinking back to the last thing he had to show me, and he smiles at the same memory. He doesn’t say anything though, just digs in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out…

“Why do you have a camera?” I ask stupidly.

He doesn’t answer right away because he’s fiddling with it. And then he raises it up between us, cupped in his big hand, and I see the front lens and the flip-out LCD screen on the side.

“Camcorder, to be precise. Top of the line. Pretty fucking nice, huh? I was thinking about you when I bought it.”

“In the best way possible, of course,” I say, smirking.

“Of course.” The thing beeps and a red light on top comes on and he levels it at me.

“Smile for the camera, baby.”

“No way,” I say, throwing a hand up to hide my face.

“I look like hell.” I şişhane escort don’t, really, but ironically, I hate having my picture taken. I actually look pretty good today in my little girl next door outfit; no makeup, messy ponytail, white cropped camp shirt and faded denim pencil skirt.

“You look like a good girl today.”

“What do you mean, today? I look like a good girl every day.”

The camera beeps again as he shuts it off. He does this subtle thing with his face where he goes from looking like he’s trying to decide how he’s going to fuck me first to looking almost harmless with just the tiniest shift of muscles. His eyes are still stripping me bare, though, and he says,

“Then maybe you want to be a little bad. For me. Ain’t nobody gonna see this but me, myself and I,” dropping a hand to his crotch and squeezing his cock to emphasize the I.

The thought of him jerking off to a video of me has me ready to rip my clothes off right here in the kitchen. Not just yet, though.

“I can’t believe I’m actually considering this. How bad is a little bad?” I ask.

“We can start small. You can show me what you have on under there,” he says, touching the top button of my shirt.

Part of my hesitation is real. I’ve never made a sex tape and never really considered it until now. It’s one thing to fuck someone six ways to Sunday but quite another to let them make you the star of their personal porno.

Fucking Bradley Taylor. I can’t say no and for a second, I wonder where I would draw the line with him.

I sigh and again, it’s only half feigned.

“Okay, but not in here.”

I watch him react to the girliness of my room. It’s mostly white with a few black accents. The queen-sized bed is a haphazard unmade nest of different sized pillows and a fluffy duvet. All that’s missing is a mountain of stuffed animals. We’ve fucked in more ways than a lot of married couples have but it’s still weird for him to be in my room.

He sets the camcorder down, shrugs out of the jacket, kicks off his boots and climbs onto my cloud of a bed, reclining back against the headboard like a king on his throne.

“Get up there,” he says, pointing a ringed finger toward the high footboard.

I do it but I deliberately take my time.

“Now what?”

“Lights, camera, action.” He takes the camcorder up again and aims it at me.

“Undo those buttons. Slow.”

When I bring my hands up to do it, they’re actually trembling a little. I’m going slowly alright, because I can’t get my fingers to work. Once they’re all undone, I pause and look up at him, waiting for more instructions. He’s watching me, not the LCD screen, with his eyes narrowed and his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. I swear to God, I am not going to survive through this. But if I’m going down, I’m taking him with me.

“Show me.”

I start to part my shirt and then stop.

“You promise you won’t let anybody see this?”

“Fuck, I already told you—” He winces and reaches down to tug at the crotch of his jeans.

“I promise, okay? Now come on, let me see those pretty tits.”

I flash him a little cleavage and get a glower in return that makes my stomach flutter. I open one side, then the other, baring my bland beige bra, but by the look on Bradley’s face, you’d think I’d already whipped it off.

“Keep going,” he says, his voice already growing deep and rough.

I shrug the shirt off and have a silly urge to cover myself. The camera adds a dizzying level of intensity. Taking a deep breath, I pop the front closure of my bra and peel the cups back.

“Yeah,” he says with an appreciative whistle. “Now show me how you like it.”

The camera whirs again as he zooms in on me touching my tits, first lightly stroking and then squeezing. When I pinch my nipples, I moan and he makes an indescribable sound. When I push my boobs up and tongue them, he loses it. He drops the camera and leans forward like he’s about to pounce on me.

“You’ve been fucking holding out on me.”

“Chill,” I say, and he sits back again but he looks like a coiled spring.

“You should know by now, I have many talents. I’m not just going şişli anal yapan escort to put everything out there and leave nothing to the imagination. Now, shall I continue?”

He snatches the camera up again with a dirty sneer and a lift of his chin.

“Go on. Take your hair down and lose the skirt. I’ve been wondering about what color panties you have on under there.”

I free my hair and look coyly at the camera through the curls that have fallen over my face.

“What if I don’t have any on?”

“You’re supposed to be a good girl, remember?”

“I slip every now and then. You’ve been a bad influence.”

He laughs and then laughs some more when I get my skirt off and he sees the relatively conservative undies I’m wearing.

“Fucking granny panties. Those definitely have to go.”

“You try wearing butt floss almost every damn day,” I grumble while I sit back on my ass to work the panties off without flashing Bradley my already slick pussy. Whatever he wants today, he’s going to have to tell me to do. I need him to order me around. That’s what I constantly fantasize about.

I get one leg free and he stops me.

“Leave them there. For later.”

I have no idea why he’d want my panties dangling on one leg but I can’t wait to find out.

“Okay. I’m ready for my closeup. Now what?”

He looks over the LCD screen again and nods. And smirks. Oh shit.

“You’re ready, huh? Let’s see about that. Come here.”

I slink down the bed like a cat on the prowl. Yeah, he likes that. The camera whirs as he zooms out to get my ass in the frame.

“Yes?” I say, sitting back on my heels and smiling sweetly at the lens.

“We’re going to do a little thing. You’re going to look into the camera and do what I tell you, no matter what it is. You think a good girl like you can handle that?

Fuck yes!

“Funny how the longer you’re around, the naughtier I feel. I can handle it,” I say, raising an eyebrow and letting my eyes wander to his bulge.

He doesn’t miss it. He doesn’t miss a thing.

“You like that?”

“Yeah,” I say, licking my lips.

“Tell me.”

I look into the camera, twirling a curl coquettishly.

“I like your cock. A lot. I can’t wait to show you how much.”

He reaches out and touches my lips with two fingers.

“Show me what you want to do to my cock.”

Keeping eye contact with the camera, I flick his fingertips with the tip of my tongue and then caress the underside of both fingers with a slow, flat-tongued swipe. I swirl around the tips again and then I suck them. I take his wrist in both hands and slide his fingers all the way inside my mouth, until I gag a little and my eyes water.

He pulls his hand away and wipes the single tear that’s spilled down my cheek.

“Works for me.” He takes his shirt off, gets on his knees and thrusts his hips forward, putting the object of my desire right in my face.

“Go for it.”

I go for it alright, attacking his belt and jeans with such gusto that for a minute I forget about the camera. Bradley doesn’t hesitate to remind me.

“Eyes up here, girl,” he says, tugging my hair and tilting my head back.

I focus on that overbearing lens as I do to his cock what I did to his fingers. When I work the last couple of inches down, he lets the camera droop and we stare each other down, not even breaking eye contact when I have to jerk back and suck air. He gives me a few seconds to catch my breath before he pulls me forward again, going slow for the zooming camera.

“Fuck, you should see how hot you look right now,” he groans.

“On your hands and knees, worshipping my dick…pretty little good girl gone bad. Oh, but wait, you can see for yourself later when I let you watch it while I fuck you from behind.”

I moan at the thought of watching myself be dirty for Bradley while he’s wearing my pussy out and he laughs until I switch gears and blow him like I’m going for broke, until his eyes go unfocused and he’s gritting his teeth and I’m sure he’s going to lose it and shoot down my throat.

“Oh no you don’t,” he growls, pushing me away and onto my back. şişli bdsm escort He finishes stripping his jeans off while somehow keeping that goddamn camera going. Grabbing me by the hip, he drags me forward to where he’s kneeling on the bed. He slides the panties still hanging around my ankle up to my knee and hikes my leg up so that I’m wide open and ready for him and brings the other end up and presses it into my mouth like a stretched horse bit. He gives me a nasty smile and taps my chin.

“Don’t fucking let it go.”

When he plunges into me I have to clench my jaw to hold back the stream of obscene words I want to scream out and to keep from losing my grip on the panties. I can moan and whimper though, and I do, loud and long until I get hoarse, and he just keeps pounding into me so hard my poor bed sounds like it’s coming apart. Bradley’s still filming, holding me in place with one hand on my belly and panning up and down my body with the camera in the other.

“You say you missed fucking me? Am I making up for lost time? Huh? Huh?”

Each word he speaks is punctuated by a jolt of his hips and a streak of pleasure as his cock hits all the right spots.

“Mmm hmmm.” I move his hand from my belly to my boobs and he squeezes in time with his strokes before giving my nipples a hard pinch and guiding my hand to my pussy.

“Time for your big scene.”

I finger my clit furiously, dying to give us both what we want. I can only imagine what I look like, all frantic and greedy with my lust-glazed eyes fixed on that camera. I’m going to give him a scene he’ll be rewinding until the tape snaps. He grips me behind the knee of the leg that’s stretching the panties to the ripping point and flattens my thigh against my chest so he can get deeper and I gasp when his cock finds uncharted territory, letting the panties go but Bradley is beyond caring about that now.

“Is that it?” he pants, swiveling his hips and making me cry out.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my breath shaky and shallow. God, I’m so close and I need it so badly.

His pace speeds up and then gets erratic; he’s almost there.

“Yeah? Ah fuck, come on baby. Come for me.”

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and squeezes his eyes closed with pleasure. He goes still.

“Fuck, baby. Fuck.”

His eyes roll back in his head and he sucks in a breath and then he’s staring down at me as he goes overboard. I can feel him pulsing inside me and then I’m there too, thrashing around beneath him and digging my nails into the rock hard arm that’s got me pinned to keep from flying off into space.

When my eyes open, Bradley’s on top of me, groping around for the camera and then aiming it at our sweaty faces. I guess he dropped it while I was coming hard enough to throw my back out.

“Jesus. That’s a fucking wrap.”

I lay there for a while after Bradley gets up, wallowing in my soft sex-scented sheets and listening to him do what dudes do in the bathroom; take a piss, run the water endlessly, open the medicine cabinet. When it gets too quiet, I crack one eye open to see him standing in the doorway and looking in the direction of the bed, so naked and full of himself it’s almost rude. For a moment I panic, worried that he’s about to say or do something I don’t want to deal with but then he opens his mouth and sets everything right again.

“So what’s to eat around here?” He tosses something that lands near my head, a damp washcloth.

“I’m not going to fuck and feed you. Go see for yourself,” I sigh with mock impatience.

He raids my cold pizza leftovers, which is almost unforgiveable, and then we have our private viewing party and Bradley fucks me slow and easy from behind, just like he promised. Actually, it’s slow and easy until the end of the tape, when he pushes my upper body flat to the mattress and holds me down with one hand on the back of my neck and does indeed fuck me senseless.

The tape is just as ridiculous as I expected, so filthy I can hardly stand to see myself. But the part that gets me the most is when Bradley dropped the camera. You can’t see anything but blurred sheets but the sounds we’re making, the way he goes from words to desperate groans, the way his voice breaks when he comes, makes my pussy heavy with need all over again.

I stay curled up in bed, watching Bradley get dressed. He picks up the camera and stuffs it back in his jacket pocket, patting it like it’s his most valuable treasure. And then he disappears out the door, his husky goodbye the last thing to go.

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