Everyone’s got a little bit of a creep inside, right? I wanted to wrap Alexis around my finger before she discovered mine. I almost had her.
Alexis and I had been dating for a few months. We fucked a lot, but it took some time before we started spending nights together. We talked openly about everything and we could stay awake for hours peppering each other with questions. Then one night I stumbled.
“Do you watch porn?” she asked.
“Ummm, not really,” I replied.
“Kind of vague,” she said. “Not that I care either way.”
Technically, I was being honest. There was just a slight complication that prevented my guilty conscience from clarifying. My silence unsettled her.
I woke up in the morning and she was already out of bed. I heard her in the living room and wanted to surprise her with a cup of coffee.
The media stand was open and a stack of my home movies was spread across the floor. Alexis was watching TV on the couch with her back to me. She was the featured attraction in 4K.
It was one of my favorite videos. Alexis had come over after her run, and had left the bathroom door open a crack to let out the steam from her shower. The air was drying her beautiful body as she put on make-up for a night that would end with our first time having sex.
Against my better angels, I had grabbed my camcorder. I panned up from her cute little feet, along those perfect legs, slowly past her sculpted ass and tits, freezing for several minutes at the spot in the foggy mirror reflecting her face mistily.
The camera returned to her butt; and when the screen faded to black she could see the reflection of my outline in the doorway, standing like an asshole with two coffee mugs in my hands. The memory of her look of disgust can still split my heart in two.
“What the fuck is this?” she said. “You’ve been filming me all this time?”
“No, I...” I stammered. I held out a cup of coffee and asked her if we could talk. She slammed it out of my hand and stormed out, grabbing what she could of her belongings on her way.
“Don’t call me, fucking creep,” she said, slamming the door.
I couldn’t bring myself to even pick up the videos. They haunted me for what was the longest month of my life. I thought of burning them. The only reason I didn’t was in case she wanted them back. “You fucking idiot,” I told myself.
I ran arguments through my head to explain my actions. The heart loves. The eyes lust. I feel both for you. They were just ridiculous sentiments masking a simple fact: I liked to watch her.
One night I woke up still buzzing from too many nightcaps. My dick was too hard to ignore, so I hurried down the stairs and popped in my “Alexis montage.” I came all over the couch watching her delicate hands flip through the Sunday paper, her thighs tense up as she stretched in tight jogging shorts, the innocent smile on her face as she leaned over the counter, absorbed in a phone call – ok, there was some nice cleavage too.
I thought of texting her the next day. But her instructions couldn’t have been clearer.
There must have something in the air, though.
My phone pinged.
“Are you still watching those films of me?” said the text from Alexis.
Fuck, I thought, reliving the night before. “Yes,” I typed, wondering if I should qualify my truthfulness with a sorry or something. I wasn’t though. So I sent my text. Transparency or bust.
“I’ve been locking all the doors and windows of my house,” she texted. “I’m closing the shades whenever I’m home.”
“Oh, fuck,” I said, gripping my hair through my fingers and pulling up tightly. Then, a follow-up text caught my falling spirits from a cliff.
“I bought a really pretty dress today,” she texted. “It’s shimmery gold. I want to try it on but I have this nagging feeling that I forgot to lock one of my windows.”
I was out the door with my camera in tow.
Her front door and sliding door were both locked. So were all the first-floor windows—she was going to make this hard on me. The only other window I could conceivably reach was to her bedroom, which overlooked a fairly solid trellis. I survived the climb and thanked the heavens the window was open. She wasn’t in her bedroom, but I could see shadows in the hallway projecting from the guest room.
I pulled out the viewfinder and peered the live camera around the corner. My dick was chubby in my hand even before I saw her naked, except for a pair of black stockings that she was buttoning to a lacy garter belt.
She was wearing high heels and gingerly pierced them through the holes in a black thong. She turned around to see how her ass looked in the mirror. It was magnificent. More black lace covered her beautiful breasts. She put on a foiled dress that lit her up in a golden glow.
I’d been in love. I knew what it felt like. But this went deeper. She was my obsession. My desire to film her was to capture her in a moment that I could literally freeze in a frame. It felt more worshipful than controlling to me.
Alexis had given no indication that she was aware I was in the hallway, but now, without looking at me, she told me to set up the camera in the living room. The scene was set and I was trying to relax on the couch when she walked in the room towards me. She gave me an intimidating look, but it lacked resolve.
“I guess I would rather be watched than lonely,” she said. “Actually, I miss it. I like it.”
She turned around and lifted her dress to show me her ass. “Do you like the look of this?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, stroking the bulge in my pants.
“You can’t touch it,” she said.
She turned around, holding her dress up. She was rubbing herself over her lace panties.
“Do you like my pussy?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“You can’t have it,” she said.
She pulled off her dress and sat back on the couch, stretching her spread legs toward me. She locked onto my wandering eyes. Her pupils widened as she moved her restless fingers under the wide part of her thong and masturbated. This went on for many minutes until she started to breathe heavily.
“You can have anything you want,” she said. “You just have to ask.”
“Can I touch you?” I said.
She moved her thong aside and let me touch her wet pussy. It was as wet as the kiss she gave me, and I stuck my fingers inside her welcoming cunt as our tongues got reacquainted.
“That big dick of yours is really what I miss,” she whispered into my ear. “I want to hold it.”
I took my pants off and my cock sprung up in her hands. We masturbated each other.
“Fuck me,” I said.
“I mean, you don’t have to say please but at least you can ask me nicely,” she said, looking bratty.
“Will you sit on my fat dick?” I asked.
“Now, that’s more like it,” she said.
She crawled on top of me and took me inside her hot pussy, riding slow and steady. As we fucked, she pulled down her bra and stuck her nipple into my mouth. I latched on and continued to thrust up into her with my striving cock. She turned over and we stretched our legs out on the couch. We banged like clanging bare spoons.
“Can I lick you?” I asked.
Alexis pulled herself off my dick and scooted back on the couch, answering my question with her open legs. Hers was my favorite taste and I ravished her like I hadn’t eaten for months. I jerked myself off while still trying to avoid cumming. My excitement rubbed off on her and she came pretty fast and really hard.
Alexis patted the couch where she wanted me to sit. She sucked my cock lustily, propping her ass up like a porn star. I imagined all the perverts like me who would enjoy watching that.
As I started to whimper—a sure sign of an oncoming explosion—Alexis grabbed my camera. “This big cock needs to be a star,” she said. She stared at the viewfinder with a devious smile and gave me a rapid hand-job until I came hard. The viewfinder faded to black with her tongue lingering on my leaky cock.
“This is going to be a great one for my montage,” she said.
About the author: The Junkman is a contributing writer for the MetArt Network, blending his twin passions for erotic storytelling and high-class porn. He shares a range of musings at JunkPixels.com
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