If anyone had asked them – though nobody ever did – they would have said they were just an average couple. Which begs the question what is average: who knows what an average couple gets up to when the bedroom door is closed? Speculation on that subject is best left for another time while we consider this average couple.
They are Beryl and John. They live in a semi-detached house like many another, in a middle-class suburb like many another. Beryl is forty-seven, a few pounds over weight but otherwise in reasonable shape. John is forty-nine and thinning a little on top, which he dislikes but is coming to accept. Beryl works five mornings a week as a receptionist for a west end hairdresser. At weekends she does late shifts at a supermarket checkout, earning money they save for a holiday. John is a senior salesman at a gentlemen’s outfitters. He prides himself on being able to tell whether a customer is a 42 Regular or a 42 Long the moment he walks through the door.
Beryl and John have no children. At one time they had hoped to become parents but somehow it never happened and now they have accepted that it never will. For a while the freedom that entailed had a liberating effect on their sex life. If John grew horny while they were watching television Beryl might suck his cock or they would fuck on the couch. But in time they returned to screwing in bed because it was more comfortable. They knew how to please each other and were careful to do so. But they stopped trying fresh approaches. Frequency dwindled. Routine had set in. Until something wholly unexpected happened.
Looking back, Beryl couldn’t explain, even to herself, why she had succumbed to a fling with a man sixteen years her junior. (Those who may be interested can read the details in a story called “Harry’s Quest.”) Beryl and Harry fucked only once, a liberating, uninhibited experience for them both that might have continued had Beryl not felt compelled to confess to John. Not all the details, not how Harry had encouraged her to talk dirty, not how Harry had fingered her arsehole, not how many times she came; just the broad outline.
Anger gave way to hurt but neither lasted for long. To his surprise, John found himself aroused by the thought of his wife being fucked by a relative stranger. He told her he would agree to the relationship continuing – provided he could watch. That was too much for Harry, and there the affair ended. But between Beryl and John something had changed. They talked to each other about desires they had not previously identified in themselves. While they wondered how to fulfil them, John undertook to investigate. The internet eventually delivered a possible solution.
The introduction of computerised accounting and stocktaking by John’s employers kindled an interest which led to the purchase of a laptop for home use. Soon Beryl and John were finding stimulus for their fucking from a variety of websites; but that went only part of the way towards turning their fantasy into reality. That came about by means of a forum message board. It read:
VIDEOGRAPHER offers personal service. I will film your intimate moments in your own home or at any place you specify. My own participation only if requested. You can have the result instantly on video cassette or I will edit the film and e-mail it to you. I guarantee it will never be seen anywhere else. Greater London area only. E-mail me for terms. You will not be disappointed.
They re-read the message several times, decided not to respond, slept on it, read it again and eventually concluded there could be no harm in making an enquiry. From there turning back became impossible. Each e-mail from the videographer – signed simply Z; Zack, they decided – merely served to fuel their anticipation. Zack’s terms weren’t cheap but, they concluded, if they backed out now they would always wonder what they had missed. A date was agreed; Zack would come to their home.
John persuaded Beryl that the black knickers, stockings and suspender belt she had worn for her assignation with Harry would look good on the video. She had just dried herself from the bath and was putting them on when the doorbell rang. John answered, only to find a woman standing outside. “Hello,” she said, smiling. “You must be John. I’m Zoe. Can you help me with my gear?”
“Oh!” said John, thinking Z for Zoe not Zack; what the hell will Beryl make of this? But too late now. Then, realising that he was staring at her open-mouthed, “Oh, yes. Of course.”
“It’s all in carrying cases. No need for the neighbours to see, is there?” She led the way to a white van parked outside. There were four heavy containers. “Lights and tripods and things,” Zoe explained. “I like to deliver high quality.”
They had just completed the fetching and carrying when Beryl called from the top of the stairs. “Is that Zack? Do you want to bring him up here?”
“I think, pet, it would be best if you popped down for a minute. We’re in the sitting room.”
Beryl entered wearing a housecoat, planning to hold it open for Zack’s inspection of the black lingerie underneath. The sudden realisation that all was not as she had expected made her face fall. She drew the housecoat tightly around her.
“Beryl,” said John, “this is Zoe. She’s come to do the filming.” He waved vaguely at the equipment cases.
“Zoe?” Beryl surveyed the woman who had come to their house. She was perhaps thirty years of age, slim, small-breasted, wearing jeans and a man’s blue shirt. Her blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail. Blue eyes and a full, generous mouth.
Sensing the bewilderment, Zoe took charge. “I suppose you’re surprised to find there’ll be a female behind the camera. That’s only natural. But I don’t advertise it, for obvious reasons. I need to be sure I’m not walking into the wrong kind of company. From what you told me in your e-mails, I knew I needn’t worry here.” Her smile was directed towards Beryl. “And I can assure you I’m fully qualified – you won’t be disappointed by the results. If you are, there’s a money-back guarantee.”
“Yes, I’m sure it will be fine. It’s just that – well, it’s a bit of a surprise.”
“Perhaps you’d like a drink first,” John offered. “We could have a chat for a few minutes. Get to know each other. Would you like a sherry?”
“Coffee would be fine, if that’s OK.”
While Beryl retired to the kitchen, John and Zoe carried the equipment upstairs. The videographer nodded approvingly when she saw that there was ample room around the double bed in the main bedroom. Her claim to be qualified was supported by the efficiency with which she quickly set up a couple of lights on tall stands. As she did so, she explained her intentions. “I’m pleased you’ve chosen to have the computer version rather than the videocassette. It means you’ll have to be patient for a few days but the result will be much better because I can use two cameras.”
“Two?”
“Yes. The one on this tripod will be running all the time, and I’ll move around with the other one for different angles, close-ups, anything you want.”
“I think we’ll leave that to you. You’re the expert. Just tell us what you want from us.”
“All I need is for you to relax and be natural, enjoy yourselves, try to forget about the cameras. But do all the things you’ve thought about. Don’t look at the finished product and be disappointed because there’s something missing.”
“I’m afraid we’re not movie stars,” said Beryl who had overheard the last remark when she entered the bedroom carrying a tray with the coffees. “We just thought something like this would be – well, exciting.”
“I’m sure it will be,” said Zoe, moving to an armchair beside the dressing table with her coffee and motioning for John and Beryl to sit with theirs on the edge of the bed. “I haven’t had many disappointed clients.”
“But how did you get into this business,” Beryl asked, “filming other people having sex. There can’t be a lot of demand.”
“You might be surprised. I admit I was at first. It started because I was asked. My father was a photographer – studio portraits, graduations, wedding albums, that sort of thing. He trained me and I worked first as his assistant, then he let me take on jobs on my own. I’d done computer studies at college, so I helped modernise the business. Something we needed to do. When Dad died, I could have looked around for a job with another studio, but I’d inherited a going concern and I decided to see if I could cope.”
“So your father was into filming couples, was he?”
“No, no. He was as old-fashioned as could be. For me, it just happened by chance. I’d been asked to do a wedding, a big society do. They wanted the de luxe package, filming the whole day, the bride at the hairdressers in the morning, the bridesmaids getting ready, the drive to the church, the ceremony, the reception, the whole lot. And it was after that, when the groom had had a few drinks, that he took me on one side and asked me if I would be interested in doing the first night, as well. What would it cost? Thinking it might be a joke, I quoted a ridiculous figure and he said snap. I’d committed myself without having had time to think about it.”
“What about the bride?” Beryl seeing the woman’s side.
“Oh, I took the precaution of having a quiet word with her, but she was obviously up for it. I think they must have discussed it in advance. Apparently, they were off to the Caribbean the following morning and were spending the first night at a hotel, the kind of five-star place where the staff take no notice of a couple going up to their room with a third party and a lot of equipment. ”
“So what happened?”
“Pretty well everything. Obviously, she wasn’t a virgin. The novice was me. Never done anything of the kind before, making it up as I went along. It didn’t really matter because they knew what they wanted and they weren’t shy about asking for it. Started with the bride still in her wedding dress, shots of him with his hand up her skirt, feeling her. Get lots of shots of her face to show the reaction, they said. When he undressed her, she was wearing crotchless white knickers – take close-ups, they said. So I did. Then he – “Zoe broke off and looked from John to Beryl. “Look, I’ve done this often enough now that nothing shocks me. But I always like to know how clients feel about straightforward language.”
“I don’t mind, if Beryl doesn’t”
Beryl hesitated before she said, “Shall we try. We can always say no, can’t we?”
“Of course. But some people find it stimulating.”
“I think I might.” Knowing very well that she would but remembering she hadn’t told John everything about being fucked by Harry. “Please go on – you said you were taking close-ups.”
“Yes. Of a cunt that was starting to get wet. And got a whole lot wetter when he finger-fucked her. From there, they went through the card. I genuinely believe they got so carried away, they forgot I was there. They sucked and fucked in every position you could imagine – and some you couldn’t. They wanted shots of her face when she came, and I have to say she didn’t hold back. And she opened her mouth for him to finish. If I’d been so inclined, I could have made a complete Kama Sutra movie out of it.”
“Were you – excited by it?” Beryl again.
“I was. I couldn’t help myself. But I had to concentrate on the filming. I was being paid a lot of money to do just that.”
“You’ve told us you participate if asked.”
“That came much later. The wedding couple were so pleased with the edited film, they told one or two others and I visited them in their homes, like I am with you. Gradually, the word went round. Of course, I was doing straightforward stuff as well – I still do now. The day job, you know. That side of the business was always there. But I suppose it was inevitable that sooner or later I was invited to join in.”
“And you did.”
“Funnily enough, I didn’t. Not the first time. I didn’t fancy him at all. I could have gone for her, but at that time I had a girlfriend and I didn’t need it. I’ve been bi since I was a teenager. I hope that doesn’t shock you?”
“I suppose not,” said John, unsure what his feelings were but somehow suspecting that, if Beryl could be kept on board and he didn’t act too eager, the evening with Zoe had interesting possibilities. He simply said, “We seem to have learnt a lot just in the last half-hour.”
“Well, at the moment I’m without a partner of either sex, so I’m usually ready to join in when asked. Provided, of course, the chemistry is right. But don’t think that means you have to ask.”
The coffee cups were empty. A brief silence ensued, Beryl and John uncertain how to proceed. Zoe, sensing the awkwardness, said with a smile, “Time for work. I’m going to set this camera turning” – she pressed a switch on the camera mounted on a tripod between the lights – “while you two get down to enjoying yourselves. I’ll flit around with the other camera and try not to get in the way.”
The couple looked at each other but neither moved. Zoe said, “Beryl, I think John has come over all shy. I think you’ll have to make the first move.”
Beryl nodded, stood up and let the housecoat fall to the floor. Then, taking John by the hand and urging him to lie back on the bed, she unfastened his belt, opened his zip and extracted his cock. It was semi-erect, a prominent vein running along the side of the shaft, the circumcised head needing only a little attention to prime it for action. Zoe, who who had offered a few words of approval when the black lingerie was revealed, crouched beside the bed with a hand-held camera.
“Shall I suck it for you?” asked Beryl, remembering how Harry had urged her to talk to him during the memorable session that had set all this in train, hoping now that Zoe’s operation would pick up their words. “Shall I suck it hard – your cock?” The only reply was a deep groan from John as she opened her mouth and engulfed the straining member. John wasn’t as big as Harry had been but that meant she could take in almost the full length, hold her breath and work on the underside of the knob with her tongue.
“Oh, yes. Good. Yes, that’s good.” Beryl wasn’t clear whom John was addressing. He was squirming underneath her, but not only from the ministrations of her lips and tongue. Zoe had put her camera down for a moment to help John wriggle out of his clothes without losing the delicious suction on his dick.
For a while the only sounds in the bedroom were made by Zoe, unobtrusively seeking new angles to record a loving act of fellatio: deep throat giving way to licking, nibbling, teasing, tasting a bubble of precum that oozed from the tip.
John murmured a word of warning. There was a danger of too much too soon. Beryl backed off to survey the rigid instrument she had been servicing. Not big, it was true, but she wanted it inside her. “Shall I fuck you?” she asked. “You know – if you sit up, I can do the work.”
“That would be nice. I like the way you fuck me,” said John, surprised at the ease with which Beryl explored the vocabulary, not sure whether he was responding to his wife or doing what Zoe wanted. Perhaps both. Although they’d chosen to have themselves filmed, it wasn’t easy to relax. Nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore the fact that his cock was on fire and he badly needed to feel it in Beryl’s cunt. He hoped she would be wet and ready for him.
“Can I interrupt for a moment?” Zoe intervened. “John – you’ll be wanting to take Beryl’s knickers off, but are there any shots you want first?” She had filmed women in black lingerie before and they were usually wearing it because a man had asked them to.
“What do you suggest?”
“Well, she could lie across your lap. If you sit there – like that – the main camera will get you both and I can do some low angles from behind.”
They posed both ways: first with Beryl face down while John caressed her arse cheeks, pressing the silky fabric into the crack; then half sitting, half on her back across John’s lap, legs wide apart. Shameless and wanton. His fingers moved the crotch aside, letting the lens see lips puffed with desire, a glimpse of a trimmed triangle of dark grey hair. He turned her over again in order to slide the flimsy knickers across her arse and down her thighs, agate material against alabaster skin. When the garment had been kicked to the floor, John said, “Thank you, Zoe – I’m glad we did that.” And then to Beryl, “Now you can fuck me.”
For the moment, that wasn’t his wife’s plan. She made him lie back while she knelt, straddling him just below the waist. That allowed her to reach behind her with one hand and feel for his cock. Once in place, she handled it with slow, sensuous strokes against the crack of her arse. “Easy now, darling,” she said. “You were getting a bit excited. Let me take this very slowly, keep you hard while you back off a bit. Tell me when you’re ready – then I’ll fuck you.” From behind, Zoe focussed on close-ups of John’s dick being folded between his wife’s hand and her round, full buttocks. Then, taking advantage of this interval of relative calm, she moved round to capture facial expressions. John was biting his lips as he sought to rein back his rising lust. Beryl was rocking contentedly, eyes closed, picturing the cock she was handling with tender care.
The respite served its purpose. John said he was ready to go on. After slipping a finger into her cunt to satisfy herself that she had lubricated sufficiently, Beryl made him sit up while she sat astride and facing him. Her hand guided him into her with practised ease. She settled herself firmly on his dick. “Ready?”
“More than ready. You fuck – I’ll tell you when to stop.”
They were now both sitting upright, John with his arms round Beryl’s waist, she with her arms clasped behind his neck. She kissed him, a deep tongue-exploring kiss, all the while remaining motionless, allowing them both to savour the special moment at the beginning of a fuck when a cock first finds its natural home, buried to the hilt in liquid warmth.
All this offered little to Zoe’s close-up camera but that changed as soon as Beryl began to move. With her weight supported by the back of her husband’s neck and his shoulders, she lifted herself until the head of his cock was about to leave her opening, then plunged down on him. John grunted. Beryl rose, fell again. And again. And again. Then setting up a rhythm, fast and hard. Taking him in deep. Gasps now from John. Squelching sounds from Beryl’s cunt juices as she drove herself on to him.
“Yes, pet. Fuck me. Fuck me. Keep going. I’m all right. Fuck me.” The words emerging in staccato bursts each time Beryl descended. The slow build-up was paying dividends. John was in control of himself, relishing the sensations that pulsed from the underside of his knob but knowing he was now a long way from coming. The pounding continued, Beryl’s legs spread wide for maximum penetration. He hid his disappointment when she slowed down before easing back from him, tits heaving from her labours. “My turn now,” she said. “But don’t take it out. Just lie back.”
When he did so, she subsided on to him, her tits against his chest, before raising herself slightly on her knees. “Now go,” she said. “It will be good for me – and for Zoe, I expect.”
The videographer had already taken up a position behind them when John began humping. It was a virtual repeat of their previous bout, except this time it was John’s task to repeatedly raise his arse from the bed in order to drive up into her from underneath. They continued like that, both emitting occasional sounds of deep internal pleasure, until one particularly vigorous thrust rolled Beryl on to her side. John, unwilling to lose the momentum building between them, immediately rolled her on to her back, lifted her left leg on to his shoulder and urged his cock back into her welcoming cunt. In this position he was able to use the ball of his thumb across a clitoris that was begging for attention. The camera lens zoomed in. John fucked and fingered. Seconds later, Beryl’s torso convulsed and she cried out as her first orgasm flooded her.
On another day, she might have wanted a pause for recuperation but not this time. She was on heat in a way she hadn’t known with John since the early days of their marriage. Whether it was the presence of another woman and a camera she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that her mind was demanding more of the same and her body was able to deliver. She said, “Let’s change again. From behind. I’m still very wet. Are you OK?”
“I can’t believe it – I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard.” He asked his wife to keel, legs apart, cunt lips clearly visible. Beryl did so, burying her head in a pillow and clutching the sheets with both hands for stability. Standing behind her, he stroked his cock three times quite unnecessarily, parted her cheeks with one hand and with the other pointed his cock between the gleaming folds. There was no need any longer for a period of acclimatisation; hands grasping Beryl’s hips, his eyes closed in concentration, John began to fuck once more. With each thrust, his arse and thigh muscles drove him into her.
As Beryl spread herself to accommodate him to the full, something wonderful happened. They achieved that rare trancelike state where reality and time seem suspended. Instinctively, they moved together in exquisite harmony, her cunt bathing his cock in her copious juices, sustaining him in the ultimate nirvana of imminent orgasm with no danger of it occurring until he was prepared to let his mind instruct his loins. Beryl similarly lingered on the precipice, permanently ready yet permanently in control. In the darkness of the pillow she conjured images of the steady thrust and withdrawal from behind her, his pelvis meshing with her buttocks and parting again. Sometimes, too, she could hear the sounds made by her inner wetness.
After what seemed a long while John opened his eyes. He found he was looking straight at Zoe. The camera lay on its side on the bed. She had removed her shirt and, braless, was kneading the nipples of her small, pointed tits. Their eyes met. Both knew a bridge had been crossed.
The effect was to cause John to miss a stroke in his hitherto metronomic stoking of his wife’s hole. Sensing something was happening but unsure what it might be, Beryl lifted her head from the pillow. Eighteen inches away, Zoe was deeply into her self-stimulation. The videographer gasped and let her hands fall. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. That shouldn’t have happened, but you were so … so … I just got carried away. It was so wonderful.”
Perhaps half a minute passed in stunned silence. Then Beryl said, “Zoe, you said you only join in if you’re invited.” She turned to look at her husband who was nursing a hard, glistening cock that had slipped from its succulent nest. “I don’t think I could stop now if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. But how about you?”
“Two women, one man?” John’s smile was its own answer. “If you want it, pet, I’ll not say no. But what about the video?”
“The main camera’s still running,” said Zoe. “It won’t get everything, but this other one is fairly easy to use. Maybe you could have a go if … if Beryl and I are occupied.” She gave him a quick demonstration and John peered hopefully through the viewfinder while Zoe kicked off her shoes and stripped off her jeans. Pale blue flimsy knickers followed. When Beryl threw herself on to her back, pushed the pillow under her bottom and opened her legs, the invitation couldn’t have been more blatant.
“Do you mind if I start with your tits?” Zoe asked. “So much nicer than mine.” Kneeling at Beryl’s side, she put her head down and began to lick and suckle. When Beryl, missing John’s cock, sought to maintain her arousal by fingering herself, Zoe understood immediately. Without interrupting her attention to the now protruding nipples, she replaced her partner’s hand with her own. Beryl sighed and began to wriggle contentedly under the double friction. For someone experiencing another woman for the first time at the age of forty-seven, John thought, she needed no tuition. He aimed the camera, pressed the button and hoped for the best. Whatever Zoe was doing, he realised, was having a devastating effect. Beryl’s arse began to lift from the pillow, meeting Zoe’s expert ministration. In close-up, John saw that she was alternately giving Beryl a two-finger fuck and then titillating her arsehole. Something else new and not unwelcome. “Oh, Zoe,” she cried, “that’s so good. Like that. Yes, there.” Her arse bucked again, wrecking the arrangement of the picture in John’s electronic eye. He took the opportunity to switch off for a while and sit back stroking his erection while the two women urged each other on.
“Shall I go down on you?” Zoe asked eventually.
“If I can do you at the same time.”
They arranged themselves in a sixty-nine, Zoe on top. Beryl, now so on heat she had almost forgotten her husband was watching everything from close quarters, reached her arms round Zoe’s bottom, used her fingers to open the cunt lips until the clitoris rose into view, and applied her tongue. John listened to the slurping sounds, the sighs and moans, the quiet words of encouragement and approval, and wondered when his turn would come. It arrived when the women exchanged positions.
Zoe was now on top. John perched on the bed, filming from behind but getting more and more shaky as the women became more and more animated. His own arousal contributed to a decision to abandon filming altogether. Hopefully there would be enough for the video. John couldn’t help himself. He had to join in.
First, he fondled Zoe’s arse cheeks as they rose and fell in response to his wife’s tonguing. His finger lingered at the tight little aperture. Zoe pressed back against him. It was good but John wanted more. Having established that Beryl was working the clitoris, he slid his fingers into a cunt already flooded with desire. When he began to pump, Zoe yelped with delight. Beryl disengaged herself to discover what was happening. She saw John with two fingers of one hand giving Zoe’s cunt a thorough work-out while using his other hand to massage his cock. “Darling,” she said, “you can fuck her if you like.”
“Is that all right with Zoe?”
“My God, yes.” cried the videographer. “It’s what I’ve been wanting. Fuck me. Give it to me like you were doing Beryl. And don’t stop till you come.”
He nudged the two women a little closer to the edge of the bed. He lifted Zoe’s arse slightly, though making sure she was still in contact with Beryl’s tongue. Unable to contain his impatience, he took one last look and then drove his cock into Zoe’s cunt until it was buried, his balls hard against her.
“That’s good. That’s what I need. Now fuck. Do it hard. Faster if you can.” Zoe had lost all restraint. “Can you put a finger in my arse? Yes, like that. But don’t lose contact – come on, John.” Their combined efforts, John, Zoe, Beryl, grew wilder, gripped all three by a frenzy of lust that demanded to be satisfied. Zoe’s words were coming in gasps. “John – Beryl’s getting close. Don’t hold back. Just fuck me.” He drove into her, faster, harder, his balls sending messages through his shaft that this couldn’t go on much longer. This, thought John, was a woman whom he had never set eyes on until she came to his front door less than two hours ago and here she was riding his cock to glory. He heard Beryl’s voice. “Go on, darling, fuck her like she says. I’m nearly – ”
The rest was lost in a long-drawn wail of sheer ecstasy as the orgasm wracked Beryl’s body. It triggered a shuddering response from Zoe before John, too, was overwhelmed. Spunk spurted into the grasping cunt, spattered against the inner walls. Still partly hard, he withdrew and watched gobbets of the pearly liquid settle on Zoe’s arse and dribble slowly down.
It was over. Not what they had expected. A thousand times better, they told Zoe as they all began to recover. They took turns in the shower, Beryl and Zoe together with more caressing, John last. When he emerged, Zoe had packed away her gear and was preparing to leave.
“What about your fee?” he asked.
“I’m not sure I deserve one.”
“Oh, yes you do.” Beryl said. “I think we’ll want a return visit.”
“In that case, I’ll do the editing and bring it with me. If you’re satisfied, you can pay me then.”
After she had gone, they found she had left a business card on the dressing table. It just said: Z Personal videographer and gave an e-mail address with which they were to become increasingly familiar in the months ahead. pandsal
Posts: 21 Joined: Mon Mar 30, 2009 11:50 am
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