by C. C. Morian
It wasn’t a photo, but a video. It started with the woman shaking hands with the black man in a parking lot, him saying something about going back to his place, it was hard to hear, there was some wind. The scene jumped to another shot, this one inside, the woman sitting on the couch. She unzipped the man’s pants. The camera swung around to reveal the woman holding. . .no, that couldn’t be his real penis, it was more than huge, it was enormous.
“That has to be fake, right?” Emily asked, disbelieving.
“You tell me.”
“How would I know?” Emily watched as the blonde stroked the man, and his organ grew impossibly even larger. The woman wrapped both her hands completely around the man’s shaft, and there was still more, not even four hands would have covered it.
“Some kind of film trickery,” said Emily. “I know not every one is the same, but—”
“How exactly do you know that?”
She knew Justin was teasing. “Maybe you should tell me, I’m sure you’ve seen guys in locker rooms.”
“Not with hard ons. And not like that. How does he find pants to wear?”
The black man said, “Get it ready.”
The blonde took the man in her mouth, she was no small woman but it barely fit, her cheeks forced outward.
The scene jumped again, now the man and woman were in bed, the woman naked, on her back, her large fake breasts looking funny, sticking straight up like balloons. Her legs were squeezed together, the black man kneeling over her. As he positioned himself over her his erection looked even bigger, if that were possible.
“It looks pretty real to me,” said Justin.
Emily couldn’t believe what she was seeing, the man’s penis was thicker than her forearm, it had to be fake, didn’t it?
The man grabbed the woman’s knees and pulled them apart. The woman seemed torn between resisting and giving in. After a moment, her resistance ceased. She lay there breathing hard.
The woman took him in both hands and guided him forward. As soon as he entered her she squeezed her eyes shut, Emily flinching with her, there was no way that huge thing was going to fit into the woman. Inch by inch it disappeared, Emily shifting in the bed, cringing, yet wondering what it must feel like, whether it would hurt, of course it would hurt. . .
As if to answer her question the woman screamed, but instead of pulling out the black man pushed deeper, and then he was fucking her, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. The woman grabbed at his chest, fending him off, not pushing, yet trying desperately to keep him at bay, to not let him all the way in.
The black man laughed and pushed her hands away. The woman spread her legs as wide as she could, each thrust driving her into the bed, still not able to take it all. “Oh god your cock is so big!” she breathed, and her screams turned to whimpers and then moans.
The man was almost all the way in her, Emily watching in horrid fascination, like seeing a slow motion car wreck, would the woman be able to take it all?
In one hard thrust the black man buried himself in her, the woman’s face squeezed up in pain for a moment, then smiling, like she had just climbed a mountain or won a lottery.
Emily realized her legs had drifted apart under the sheets, and she quickly squeezed them shut, shuddering. The man and woman were really at it now, long hard strokes. Each time the man pulled partway out Emily kept looking for some kind of fakery, but none was obvious. The man was just massive.
Now the man pulled all the way out, paused, then slammed back into the woman. Over and over he did this, each time the woman yelping. Yet she no longer pushed him away, instead her hips rose to meet his, her arms grabbing at his thighs.
Although Emily had never seen another woman have sex, had never seen a porn video, she knew exactly when the woman was going to have an orgasm, and when she did, Emily somehow knew it wasn’t fake. The blonde’s moans changed tone, her feet curled, her fingers dug into the black man.
Who grunted, pushing deep. The camera swung around and thick gobs of his seed was sucked out of her as he thrusted. When he pulled out his shaft was covered in juices.
“That’s enough to give a man a complex,” said Justin. “He’s bigger than me even after he’s done.”
Emily had a hard time finding her voice. “Are you jealous?”
“I don’t know, should I be? Would you like that?”
Emily shivered. “There’s no way I could have something like that in me.” But so help her, she did wonder. Could she do it?
She felt Justin’s finger on her belly and she jumped. “Yikes!”
“I think he’d be about right here in you,” said Justin, touching her a few inches above her belly button.
“Don’t even say that,” she said, pulling away from him.
“Can you figure out what BBC stands for now?”
“I can’t even think straight.”
Justin leaned over and whispered in her ear, his hand still on her belly. “Big black cock.”
Emily immediately knew he wasn’t making that one up. “Ugh.”
Justin pulled away and looked at her face. “Ugh? You seemed to enjoy it.”
“I did not!”
“I didn’t see you look away.”
“How did you know? You were watching the video.”
“Just a part of it. I mostly watched you. I wanted to see your reaction.”
“I was just—intrigued.”
“Was it because he was well endowed, or because he was black?”
Emily flushed. The black man hadn’t been that attractive, nothing like Damian. But there was something arousing about the darkness of the man’s skin against the paleness of the blonde, skin much like Emily’s own. . .
She hid her discomfort by changing the subject. “I may have had enough porn for one night.”
“One more,” said Justin. “There are a lot of categories, I want to see if you have a different reaction.”
“Okay. One more.” Emily could no longer trust how she might respond. A month ago she’d never have imagined she’d ever look at porn. Now she had not only watched it, but contrary to all her expectations, she’d become aroused seeing it. She pointed to another category to get her mind off the BBC video. “What do you think this could be?”
“Wife? Maybe married men and women having sex?”
“That sounds tame. Tamer, anyway. Although it must be people pretending to be couples, no real people would post videos of themselves having sex.”
“You never know.” Justin clicked on the category.
A whole page of video screencaps came up. Emily quietly read the captions under each movie. “Husband and wife have hot sex. Quickie in the kitchen. Wife can’t get enough. Husband films his wife with another man.” She looked up at Justin. “That can’t be right.”
“Why don’t you click on it and find out?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Come on, it’s just the two of us. Think of it as trying a new flavor of ice cream. What could go wrong?”
Emily hesitated. What indeed? But Justin was right, it was just a video, she could always look away, or turn it off. She pushed on the screen.
A video started up, this one amateurish, maybe from a cellphone camera, the lighting dim. It appeared to be a hotel room. A pretty woman who looked to be in her thirties was standing in front of the bed, facing a man. The man was shirtless, much bigger than the woman, but not overweight, he was quite well built. He reminded Emily of a basketball player, not as tall, but with that same toned physique. His muscular arms were covered with tattoos.
The woman was wearing a little black dress with nylons and chic high heels. She had blonde hair, and her skin tone and light eyebrows suggested her hair color was her own. If Emily had seen her in real life she would have thought the woman was quite attractive. Her dress was fashionable, and not extremely short, something Emily might have worn to a cocktail party or the theatre.
There was something incredibly arousing about the fully dressed wom
an standing next to the shirtless man. They hadn’t moved, or touched, the woman seemed to be waiting.
The woman glanced over toward the camera, a little shy perhaps. A man’s voice said, “It’s okay, go ahead,” but it wasn’t the tattooed man speaking. The woman hesitated, then reached forward and put her arms on the man’s chest. He didn’t respond at all, he seemed to be forcing her to make the first move.
She continued to caress his chest, her hands running over his ripped abs, onto his broad shoulders. Her hands were tentative, yet she didn’t pull away.
The tattooed man reached around her and brazenly grabbed her rear, squeezing her butt in his huge hands, pulling her toward him. The woman melted into him, and he effortlessly lifted her up so her lips were just inches from his mouth. She stood on her toes, then practically dangled as he bent for her, and then they were kissing, the woman tentative at first, the man demanding, the woman giving in, a full, passionate kiss.
Emily grew warm, this couple looked good together, she wondered if they had clicked the wrong video, was this the married couple?
The kiss lasted a long time, Emily wondering what it must be like, to be held up like that off the floor in an embrace. After a long time the man put the woman down, the woman reluctantly breaking the kiss. The man pushed her down by her shoulders onto the bed.
Her face was now at the level of his crotch. Instead of moving away, he took a step forward. The woman glanced over at the camera, the shy look returning. Again the man waited. The woman kept glancing back and forth from the camera to the tattooed man, actually, to his crotch. Slowly her hand came up and she touched the man between the legs, his erection clearly visible.
As the woman caressed him through his slacks she became more sure of herself, or more interested in what she was touching, because she looked at the camera less and less. At one point she gave a small smile of satisfaction, she appeared pleased with herself, Emily knowing what was going through her mind, the good feeling of getting her man excited, just like she did with Justin.
The woman unbuckled the man’s pants and unzipped him. His erection was so stiff she had to use both hands in trying to free him from his tight underwear, finally giving up, pulling down his shorts completely. His hard erection snapped up and actually slapped her face. The woman laughed nervously and automatically took his shaft in her hand, her fingers wrapping around it, her wedding ring and large diamond glittering against his darker skin.
He wasn’t as well endowed as the man in the BBC video, but he was still huge to Emily, and this man was much better looking. The woman glanced at the camera one more time. Emily saw mixed emotions in her face, nervousness, a little anxiety, but also an interest, no, more than that, a desire.
Emily’s mouth was dry. She had a sudden urge to touch herself, but shoved her fingers under her legs.
“Go ahead,” said the same faceless voice.
The woman stared at the tattooed man’s penis, inches from her lips. She licked her lips, and Emily unconsciously did the same, wondering what the woman would do, what she herself would do if she were there. Not that she’d ever be.
The woman tentatively planted a very small kiss on the tip. Then another, her tongue grazing over the head.
Emily’s lips opened in amazement, in trepidation, in expectation.
The woman took the man in her mouth. Someone moaned, Emily wasn’t sure if it was the tattooed man, or the faceless man, or Justin. Or herself.
“Who is filming this?” she asked, her voice raspy, she’d been breathing through her mouth.
“I think the husband is.”
“What? Isn’t that her husband?”
“I don’t think so. It’s a video about a husband filming his wife with another man, remember?”
“Oh my—no wait, these must be porn actors. It’s all fake.”
“I don’t know, they don’t look fake to me.”
“You mean her husband is in the room, and he’s watching—he’s filming—his wife?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“I don’t believe it.” But it was happening, in living color, and somehow Emily knew it wasn’t fake, these weren’t actors. This married woman was about to have sex with another man right in front of her husband.
The tattooed man put his hands behind the woman’s head, but she needed no more encouragement, the woman was now really into it, sucking him, stroking him. She spread her nice legs wider, pulling the man even closer.
He reached down and moved the woman’s hair out of the way. The camera zoomed in, a closeup of her face, her full mouth.
The scene shifted, a break in time. The woman was now lying on the bed, naked except for her heels and her black thigh high stockings, her legs spread wide. The man was naked, poised above her, his firm tight butt high in the air.
He lowered himself toward her.
Emily’s hips pressed into the bed, it was as if the tattooed man was on top of her, and she had to get away. Closer and closer her got to her, to the woman. Then the tip of his erection was touching her, spreading her, pushing into her. . .
He wasn’t wearing a condom.
This was disgusting, perverted, yet Emily couldn’t pull her eyes away, she couldn’t stop her body. She moaned out loud.
Justin’s hands were between her legs, she shied away, ashamed, she didn’t want him to know. . .
Too late. Justin’s fingers were on her, in her, pushing along with the tattooed man, entering her just as the woman on the screen was being entered.
“You like this, don’t you?” whispered Justin.
Emily shook her head emphatically, no, no, no, but she couldn’t say the words. The man began to slowly move in and out of the woman. She was silent, tense, but after a little while she began to moan quietly, her moans increasing in volume and tempo as the tattooed man fucked her.
Fucked. That’s what Emily thought. They weren’t making love, he was fucking her.
And yet the woman was no longer passive, she was fucking him back. Her arms reached around his broad shoulders as far as she could, her hands caressing his back, pulling him toward her. As she moved her wedding ring would catch the light and the diamond would flash.
Justin was using his fingers to push in and out of her, not touching her clit, Emily losing herself in the video, imagining it was her being fucked. She’d never react like that, there was no way she could do that in front of Justin, he’d be disgusted with her. He was probably disgusted now. To prove it to herself she reached between his legs, and was stunned to feel his rock hard erection.
“You like this?” she gasped.
“I like the way you are getting excited.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, ignoring the truth of what he had said.
“What do you think?”
She moved her hand up and down his shaft, it was as if he was harder than normal, if that was even possible. He quivered under her hand. She realized she was stroking him in time with the tattooed man’s thrusts.
The camera shook, revealing a glimpse of a naked leg and an arm. Emily had no doubt now, the woman’s husband was filming his wife having sex, and he was probably masturbating.
Just as she was masturbating Justin right now as he watched her.
She couldn’t turn to look at Justin, she was ashamed, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the video. The woman was now kissing the man, deep kisses, kisses full of desire and need. Her fingers dug into his back as he relentlessly drove into her.
The camera zoomed in on the woman’s spread legs, the man’s ass, and his swollen balls. She was opened wide, her clit bulging, so wet Emily could see her juices, just as she felt her own juices dripping out of her.
She wanted Justin in her, but she didn’t want to stop watching the video. She moved her hips upward, grabbing at Justin’s fingers with her interior muscles, wanting more, wanting something bigger.
The woman broke off the kiss and pulled her lover’s head down, burying her neck o
n his shoulder. She used her arms to lever her legs higher, wider, giving him as much access as possible, taking him as deep as she could.
“How does it feel?” The husband’s voice, but it could just as easily have been Justin asking.
The woman didn’t answer, she just moaned in ecstasy. The tattooed man was grunting with the effort, his ass clenched, his balls slapping against her.
“Tell me,” said the husband.
“It feels so good,” the woman whispered.
He has to pull out, thought Emily, there’s no way he’s going to, there’s no way her husband is going to let him. . .
“Where do you want it?” asked the husband.
The woman shook her head violently, Emily not sure if she was saying she didn’t want it, or whether she didn’t want to answer. The tattooed man ignored her or didn’t care, he kept fucking her, Emily could hear the slamming of the bed against the wall, the squish of their juices.
Emily froze, waiting, no longer able to stroke Justin, intent on the screen. Justin kept pushing in and out of her. He wrapped the fingers of his other hand over hers on his shaft, and moved her hand up and down. He was really turned on, but she just couldn’t do it. Sensing what he might want, she guided Justin’s hand onto himself, telling him with her fingers that she wanted him to jerk himself off.
She risked a glance at him, and he was still staring at her, his breathing hard, the sheet rising and falling with his strokes.
On the screen the woman was also breathing hard, the man was grunting, Emily recognized that sound, it must be universal to men, she’d heard Justin do the same thing when he was ready to come.
Emily grabbed for her clit, no longer caring about what Justin thought, about what she should be feeling, she just needed the release.
“Where do you want it?” repeated the husband.
“In my pussy!” screamed the woman.
The tattooed man growled and rammed into her, the camera shaking, zooming in on her face briefly, her eyelids fluttering, losing control. The camera pulled back, the woman wrapping her arms around her lover, her legs still spread, open, inviting. The man spasmed, Emily knew he was shooting his seed into her. The woman froze, a smile on her lips, luxuriating, then her face scrunched up in tension, and she exploded, moaning, her orgasm hitting her even as her lover was still coming inside her.
