It was a toss-up as to which of us was more nervous: Jill, me . . or Millie.
I think it was Millie. Millie is a contemporary of mine, a very brilliant woman, a clinical psychologist. For years, she’d been deeply immersed in religious-oriented work until, one day, she came to the conclusion that the philosophies she was involved in seemed to be more fallacy than fact, turned her back on it, got laid, and hadn’t stopped since. In fact, she and I had ended up screwing spectacularly the second time we ever met; the chemistry between us had never been right for a romance, but we’d stayed friends.
Other than fairly straightforward fucking, Millie’s interest in offbeat sex, while intense, has always been as an observer: she had all the makings of a first class voyeur and, after Jill had had a chance to get to know her, we decided that, for our purposes, Millie could come in very handy.
Exhibitionists rather need voyeurs to make their lives complete — especially if the voyeur (or, more accurately in this case, voyEUSS) happens to be a lady with a camera.
* * *
Which is how the three of us came to be sitting in our living room mellowing out on strawberry wine, as I finished explaining the eccentricities of my camera to Millie.
Millie was in slacks and blouse, Jill and I in considerably less: robes. Beneath mine, a pair of very abbreviated briefs and lots of me. Beneath Jill’s, a just-below-the-nipples to just-above-the-cunt satin basque, the garment holding up a pair of sheer black seamed silk hose that led down into very high black patent ankle-strap pumps. She was also wearing a very lacy and brief pair of red panties which hid nothing.
While Millie wasn’t sure, at that point, exactly what was beneath the robes, she was almost uncomfortably aware that she’d find out quickly, and both Jill and I took amusement from the fact that our friend was trying to appear very clinical and detached about the whole thing . . and failing miserably, her excitement and anticipation obvious to the two of us, if it wasn’t, consciously, to her.
Not that WE were totally unaffected, of course. Since we knew EXACTLY what we were going to do (something which Millie knew only in the most general of terms) and, with her presence, were about to put into reality something of which we’d dreamed of for, literally, years, our excitement had been building ever since we’d “dressed for the occasion” earlier in the evening.
“Many of our poses will be obviously that,” I told Millie. “We’re not going for the “peeking at a couple alone’ effect; rather, we’re going for blatancy, our poses for maximum exposure and lewdness, smiles to-and-for the camera. Feel free to get close-ups and facial expressions, of course, but remember that the overall effect we’re going for is to let whoever sees these pictures KNOW that we were very much aware we were being photographed — and were loving every minute of it!”
Millie mulled that for a moment before asking, “Uh .. . who IS going to see these?” There were a few seconds of silence before Jill mock-resignedly sighed and said, “Heaven only knows . . . .”
It was enough to get a smile from all three of us and put us in the proper mood to start the session.
* * *
We’d chosen the living room for our setting; besides the fact that there is more furniture and room — and, thus, more position possibilities — than in the bedroom, the simple fact of the matter is that sex in the front room seems more open and blatant than it does in a bedroom setting (you EXPECT to see it in a bedroom; the livingroom setting implies that there are more people than the bed will hold and that you have company).
So we stood, side-by-side, in front of the couch, our arms around each other’s waists, smiling at Millie and her camera . . . before we turned our heads to smile at each other while I peeled Jill’s robe off one shoulder, exposing one lovely breast and toying with its quickly erect nipple.
From there, it was both robes hanging open, our bodies still turned to the camera but our heads turned towards each other so we could kiss, our lips barely touching and our mated tongues in plain sight. While my one hand still cupped Jill’s tit, her hand was holding my half-hard cock and balls inside my shorts.
Each of our poses we held long enough not just for Millie to record, but to honestly give each other pleasure: we were unhurried, to say the least.
As Jill tugged my briefs down my hips to just below my balls, fully exposing my now-stiff cock, she was the one who told our photographer, “Don’t be afraid to touch us, Millie. If you need to rearrange our bodies to get a better shot, if there’s some particular activity or position you think might be interesting, let us know, or just grab us and move us.” I peeled Jill’s robe from her shoulders and, as her hand reached out to milk, delightfully, my shaft, I turned her squarely toward the camera and slipped my hand inside her panties, one finger sliding into her thoroughly wet and slippery snatch. I enjoyed her almost surprised gasp of pleasure konyaaltı sınırsız escort before she finished telling Millie, “Anything you can do to make this set of pictures totally lewd, revealing and beautifully obscene is fine by us.” A pause before she smiled and added, “Or . . . just touch us because you want .. to touch us . . okay?”
The camera snapped before Millie’s voice rather weakly said, “Uh . okay …”
Off with my robe and shorts, neither of us showing (or feeling) any nervousness or reticence now as I sat Jill on the end of our long coffeetable and knelt between her legs. We kissed before I lowered my head to take into my mouth her taut, tasty nipples . . to her obvious delight as I sucked, tongued, licked first one, then the other, my hands doing pleasant things to whichever of her neat, diminutive breasts was, at that moment, unattended by my mouth.
Jill’s lovely, hose-clad legs were already spread to allow me to kneel between them so, when I finally raised my head from her tits to kiss her again — long and heartfelt — I took both her wrists in my hands and, our kiss remaining unbroken as I did so, moved them behind her, positioning them, and her, so that she was leaning back on her outstretched arms, her lithe torso at a 45° angle. When our kiss broke and I resumed my kneeling position, we smiled at each other as she levered her hips up to allow me to remove her lacy panties.
Still smiling, we continued looking fondly at each other as I slid my right middle finger straight into her snatch. My left hand grasped one globe of her cute ass in such a way that the thumb rested squarely on the pink, puckered rosette of her asshole. I enjoyed the transition of her smile to a look of excitement as my middle finger slowly started sliding in and out of her cunt, a one-finger fucking that created tiny-but-growing waves of sensation, amplified by my left thumb erotically threatening her lower portal, its pressures joining in rhythm with my more successfully invading right finger.
I felt, then heard, Millie behind me getting a full-length, frontal shot of Jill, capturing on film all of her, from my impertinently massaging fingers up her satin-bound torso, her stiff-nippled breasts, and including the erotically-infused smile on her lovely face. After a couple of clicks from a couple of different angles, I said, “Millie, do us a favor, will you?”
“What’s that?” a small tremor in her voice giving away the information that she was not entirely unaffected by all this. “Get a couple of throw pillows off the couch and pile them behind Jill so that she can lay back, but still be able to watch what I’m going to do next.” I felt Jill’s vagina clench around my finger as she immediately realized what I was up to, and I rewarded her by sliding my middle finger in beneath the index finger already moving slowly-but-steadily in and out of her well-oiled snatch. I, in turn, got from her a small, half-stifled groan as she felt her tunnel stretch slightly to accommodate the twin digits.
Our photographer, meanwhile, had gotten the pillows and placed them on the coffee-table, keeping her hand on them as she told Jill, “Lean back.” Wordlessly, my wife laid back down and Millie positioned the pillows so that Jill’s neck was at a fairly extreme angle that allowed her to look down between her tits, across the black expanse of her basque, to her finger-invaded cunt. My next words were directed to her: “Reach down, darling, and spread yourself open for me.”
As Millie picked up the camera once more to record it, Jill smiled and, as instructed, reached down with both hands to part the lips of her tidy snatch. As she did so, I readjusted myself to sit indian-style on the carpet . . . before I glanced forward and, my fingers still busy in her bush and ass, stuck my tongue out and flicked it across her upright clitoris.
Jill’s lithe body jumped when I made that first contact with her clit . . and then seemed to . . sort of melt a bit when, after the camera’s click, I leaned forward a little more and almost literally buried my face in her cunt, my lips sucking her “little boy in the boat” almost harshly between them, stretching the super-sensitive nub to its limit while, simultaneously, beginning to lash its helpless tip with my tongue.
“OH, GOD!!” was my wife’s moan and her feet danced outward, exposing her even more to my mouth . . and Millie’s all-seeing camera.
I quickly got very involved in eating Jill; as many sex things as I like, that one tied for first place on my list of activities and I showed my enthusiasm with mouth, tongue and hands, to Jill’s great and obvious delight.
As my mouth continued giving her pleasure, I turned loose of my wife’s cute ass and reached around to take her wrist in my hand, to slide her arm upward to rest her hand on her right breast; having done that, I went back for the other one and repeated the process. No sooner were both hands in place than Jill began molding and kneading her small, sensitive globes, her fingertips tantalizing her upthrust konyaaltı türbanlı escort nipples, giving her physical pleasure . . and Millie and I visual delight.
My chin was dripping with Jill’s delicious juices and her body was writhing beneath my mouth and our combined hands. Sometimes when I’m eating Jill, she can hold off her explosion, teasingly, for quite a long time. It was quickly obvious that this was NOT going to be one of those times: she was almost hyper-sensitive due to the fulfillment of the long-time fantasies: having an audience . . and being photographed In The Act. “Oh, Tim . . oh, yes, darling! Oh, that feels so good . .” I single-mindedly sucked her clit as my twin fingers kept sliding in and out of her clenching cunt; my left hand had lifted her right thigh up on my shoulder and then reached around it to spread the top of her slit open and taut, intensifying the pleasures of what my mouth was doing to her. The camera clicked away as Jill’s movements became more erratic . . as her body trembled . . seemed to pause . . and then, as her fingers clamped around her pink nipples almost painfully, she let out a near scream, her left foot lifted off the floor and my fingers buried themselves totally in her suddenly-dilated vagina as she came, one wave of sensation after the other causing her body to spasm and cry-after-cry to come from her lips.
Jill hits her peak and then stays there, climaxing repeatedly for an unusually long period of time. I did my part to aid her in this by reaching out with both hands to lift her stygian-hose-clad legs, raise them, and press them back into her body. Automatically, her own hands reached out to grasp the undersides of her shapely thighs to hold them in place, her spike-shod feet waving in the air in concert with her pleased cries as my hands parted her pussy and my mouth slid down her slot to fasten tightly to her and then almost brutally blow a blast of hot air up in her womb, hold it there before, literally, sucking it out again. I did this a couple of times, to her great and obvious pleasure, before shifting my hands a bit so that my fingers rested lightly on her clit — then gave her my “blow job” one more time as I mashed down on that tender nub, pressing and rotating simultaneously as I put a double breath into her.
Jill exploded, her legs driving almost straight up into the air as her satin-bound body seemed to arch . . to hold suspended for a moment . . . and then she bounced all over the place, screaming and, seemingly, trying to get away while, at the same time, driving her snatch tighter into my face as I sucked my breath back put of her.
It was an absolute joy to watch . . and taste.
* * *
Jill had slumped, trembling, after her explosion, too sensitive, for the moment, to stand any more contact with her clit. As she sprawled, ungracefully but beautifully and lewdly, on the coffeetable, legs spread, I moved to her side to kiss her and caress her lightly before helping Millie change film in the camera. As calmness returned to Jill’s nervous system, so did her sense of humor. “How’re you holding up, Millie?” she asked our photographer.
Millie mulled that for a moment before she said, “I may have to go hit a singles’ bar when this is over.”
“There’s always Tim ,” my wife brightly suggested.
“I don’t think so,” our guest dryly observed. “From what I’ve seen so far out of you, I suspect he’s not going to be worth a fiddler’s fuck by the time we’re done.” She thought for a second. “In fact, it probably would be fair to say that, when the evening is over, you and I may be done . . but HE’LL be finished .. at least, he will be for the night.”
“Well,” said Jill with a smile and a certain amount of put-on ingenuousness, “I’m certainly going to do my best to make it happen, so you’re probably right.”
“Probably …” Millie murmured.
“Oh, well,” chirped Jill, sitting up, “There’s always the vibrator!”
“Thank God for Science!” We all had a giggle over that before Millie asked, “Well, what’s next?”
The pose had absolutely no class or subtlety at all, which is why Millie hated it and why Jill and I loved it. We sat side-by-side on the couch, our inward legs resting on the coffeetable, flat, our outward legs up on the couch and spread. My left arm was over Jill’s shoulders, the fingertips toying with her left nipple; my right hand caressed my totally exposed balls. Jill’s left hand was, from the top of her thick triangle, holding the lips of her cunt open while her right hand, having pumped me to full erection, had encircled the head of my cock with just her thumb and index finger.
We were both smiling broadly right into the camera.
Once Millie, protesting lightly, had immortalized that crude pose from a couple of angles, Jill and I exchanged a short kiss before I dropped both feet to the floor, at the same time slouching down on the couch a bit. As I did so, my elfin wife let her body slide sideways so that, in just a few seconds, she was laying on her side, facing the all-seeing konyaaltı ucuz escort camera, her hose-enhanced legs out straight, her lower arm straddling my body so that her torso was supported on my lower chest — and her left hand holding my nuts as her hot, busy mouth took my shaft into it, to lick it, suck it . . fuck it with her lips.
All I could do for a few moments was to gasp and then surrender myself to the exquisite pleasures of her oral love (which she does as well — or better – – than ANY of the many women I’ve been fortunate to bed in my life). She sucked me slowly, unhurriedly — delightfully and, for an eternal number of minutes, I just laid back and enjoyed it. Millie, after getting a full-length shot of the action, moved in for close-ups of Jill’s lovely face, distended by my cock stretching her lips and jaw, her pink tongue wrapping around and up my trembling manhood while I continued lightly squeezing her breast .
While our friend concentrated on that lovely sight (looked as good as it felt!), my left hand trailed down Jill’s trim body to coax her leg up, bent at the knee so that her spike heel rested on the sofa cushion, opening her thighs so that I could slide my hand over her cute ass, between her legs . . and bury my middle finger in her once-again-juicy vagina, right up to the last knuckle. I was rewarded for this impertinence by a series of super-hard sucks that had me gasping, open-mouthed, within seconds — and caused me to return the favor by slowly finger-fucking the dark triangle between her legs.
Jill and I delicately, with enough restraint to keep each other from climaxing, kept pleasing each other for some few minutes before I gave Jill a special pat, our “secret signal” to make a change in position. Since we’ d already choreographed this session in detail over several weeks, there was no hesitation or awkwardness on either of our parts as, at the same time, Jill released my joint, I released her cunt, she turned over to face me as I laid down on my side between her and the back of the couch and, within moments, had my face between her open legs, my tongue busy in her bush while she took my cock into her mouth again.
Of course, WE had known we were going to do that, but it came as hot news to Millie, whom I heard mutter something to herself under her breath before she moved in to immortalize the action.
Another shift of bodies and now we were in the classic 69, Jill’s writhing body on top of mine, her hands busy on my balls, mine on her breasts, our mouths still tightly fastened to each other’s sexuality, jaws and tongues busily bringing pleasure to our partner.
I felt – – and heard — Jill have a small explosion just very shortly after we made that last move and, as soon as it died away; I gave her another pat — only, this time, not for variety’s sake but to keep from gushing myself.
It was all the encouragement she needed. Raising her torso — after one last, hard suck that damn near ended the ballgame — she put her hands on my thighs for support, lifted her snatch from my come-smeared mouth and quickly slid down my body to straddle my hips. Even though her back was toward me, I had a birdseye view of her reaching down between her bare thighs to grasp my swollen cock, raise it upright . . and then sink down on it, both of us moaning in pleasure as the weight of her body buried me within her and caused her to spasm in another minor orgasm.
I raised my legs to plant my feet on the sofa cushion, keeping my thighs open but allowing her to rest her arms on my knees. Her forearms were crossed, her elbows near my kneecaps, her fingertips were in a perfect position to stretch out and tickle her out-thrust nipples, which she did, unhesitatingly.
Jill was not so much fucking me as just kind of rotating her hips, enough to bring pleasure to us both, but not so much as to create any worries about coming on my part. She’d just settled into that subtle movement when our photographer stepped around into view . . and we got a surprise! Millie had slipped off her slacks and blouse and was now clad in just her panties and bra!
“Welcome to the party!” was Jill’s grunted acknowledgement. Millie blushed a little as she moved around to the side of the couch to record on film my wife’s insouciant impalement on my shaft, at the same time saying, “I’m still a spectator; I was just starting to feel overdressed for the occasion.”
“You still . . are,” I grunted, the grunting being caused my wife raising her hips to show Millie’s camera the full length of my cock, just the throbbing head of it still in Jill’s cunt before, the shutter having snapped, Jill let herself drop down on it again, bringing little sounds of pleasure from both of us.
“I’ll stay on this side of the camera, if you don’t mind,” Millie said .. before surprising Jill and me — and, I think, herself — by stepping forward to place the palm of one hand right on top of one of Jill’s trim, sensitive tits, looking straight into Jill’s eyes, and adding, “.. but I must admit that the temptation’s there ….” Breathily, Jill murmured, “One should always give in to temptation …” Millie just smiled down at my wife . . after a pregnant pause spent looking into each other’s eyes. Finally, after some indecipherable message had passed between them, she leaned down, her hand still on Jill’s breast, and gave her a short kiss on the lips, then stepped away and asked, “Got any more poses?”