Camera Shy

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I’d been getting a lot of negative feedback about my camera work. Bad angles, glaring lights, occluded shots, and missing things completely; most recently, the money shot of a full load that went everywhere: my eyes, ears, wig, lips, bra, throat, etc. while the camera was close-up on a bedpost. Audio was clear, so viewers knew what they were missing and were displeased.Most videographers just leave those shots out, but I leave them in because there’s something tantalizing about them. Something left to the imagination. Like my shots from behind, where you can see me on all fours with my tight skirt lifting to show my seamed stockings and cute little ass in black silk panties, as my long strawberry blonde wig bobs up and down in a man’s lap. I like those shots, but they infuriate viewers who want to see my painted lips wrapped around the guy’s cock. Okay, so give them what they want. CAMERAMAN NEEDED FOR AMATEUR CROSSDRESSER’S SEX SCENES. I’d become fairly popular on the site (as Monica Cheeks) and so received several offers the first day. My only requirement tends to be a circumcised penis, but I greatly prefer straight, middle-aged married men. Like myself. It’s just the right level of wrong from my perspective. So I chose the applicant who best fit that description, presuming he’d be a participant in the video. Manning the camera, but up for a little POV when I felt the urge to reach through the glory hole of the fourth wall. So when he showed up first, and I greeted him at the door in t-strap pumps, little black dress, seamed stockings, silk panties, fake breasts in lacy black bra, etc., etc., I expected to have a little warm-up session before my leading man arrived. I offered him a seat, informed him that my co-star was running late, and suggested that we… set the mood, as it were. He was just my type. About six feet tall, paunchy, fifty or so, with a defeated bourgeois expression. (I’ve managed to stay in shape, but I love a guy who’s let himself go a bit.) As always, I was crazy nervous, but forced myself to my knees and laid my palms on his thighs, smiling up at him and then looking down at what I expected to be a blooming bulge, but was just a smooth inseam. The man abruptly stood up and informed me, “No, no, no, I’m just here to shoot the video, that’s all.”My confidence shaken, I rose from my knees and stammered out, “Oh, yeah, of course, sorry, didn’t realize…sorry.”I expected a reassuring “no problem”, but instead received awkward silence as he looked around the room to avoid my gaze. I felt a bit humiliated and offered him a drink which he accepted without looking at me. Feeling self-conscious, I adjusted my tits and my wig and sat down cross-legged across from him, rather than, as I’d wanted, cozying up next to him, where he sat with one hand holding the camera I’d given him and the other shielding his crotch. Instead of feeling sexy in my tight dress, stockings, and heels, I was suddenly feeling like an object of ridicule. This was something new. I was used to guys eagerly whipping it out before we had the foreplay I so desired. They couldn’t get it into my mouth and/or ass quickly enough. But here was someone who wasn’t into it? Just a looky-Lou? Perhaps he simply enjoyed watching others demean themselves, taksim escort maliciously laughing at them from the other side of the camera? Small talk seemed an absurd alternative, and so the silence was extensive and excruciating….as I checked my texts for the ETA of my willing participant (for the sixth time) there was deliverance: Knock knock. Who’s there? Man wanting to fuck you doggy style. Man wanting to fuck me doggy style who?Relief washed over the film of humiliation as I rushed to the door (almost tripping on the four-inch heels I would never walk gracefully in) and with my most seductive, low-key smile welcomed in the man who would soon be looking down at my crimsoned lips parting to receive the throbbing head of his erection. Or maybe there would be no erection? Maybe he also thought I looked ridiculous and turned off, was having second thoughts? Maybe this was a disaster and the two men would apologetically backpedal out the door and leave me all dressed up with no one to blow?This second arrival was also my type, but a little shorter, about 5’8, so we were immediately (temporarily) eye to eye. His paunch was more of a full-on belly – his thick, hairy arms dangling down like an idle mechanic’s. (I almost wanted to get a wrench for him to hold. And use?) I asked him if he’d like something to drink, and he followed me into the kitchen where I grabbed a beer out of the fridge. I was so nervous now I had begun to shake and was unsteady on my pumps, beginning to feel mortified about being dressed as I was in front of two complete strangers and rethinking this whole escapade. But in one gesture, the romantic lead dispelled all his co-star’s fear, lifting my dress and clutching my ass as he reached around with the other hand to squeeze my left breast. I put the beer on the counter and let out a relieved, inviting, almost ecstatic “Mmmmmm” as I thrust my ass back into his crotch, grateful to feel a forming erection nuzzled between my cheeks.It had begun. And I could feel myself sinking down into this role: sexy slut ready and willing to please her man in any way he desired. Literally sinking to my knees, I turned to face his bulge veritably bursting from his jeans, which I awkwardly unzipped after a few tries, releasing my hero’s not quite hard (but rapidly en route) member. So where does the video begin? You may be surprised to see our hero’s hand on my ass in the opening shot, as the reluctant cameraman had already begun filming, which I only noticed after the fourth or fifth pump of our hero’s cock into my mouth, its smooth shaft gliding to and fro over my stiffened tongue. I had completely forgotten this inimical other presence until I noticed the third man in the periphery. With my hero’s dickhead tickling my uvula, I turned to face the camera and the man holding it. Surprised at his diligence, I smiled (as best I could, half-gagging on my movie star’s ample and now fully erect penis). My knees were beginning to hurt, so I let his manhood slide from my mouth, gripping it firmly in my right hand as I rose to face him. With his dick in my hand, he leaned in for a tres romantique French kiss, his tongue thrust in as his wiry, salt and pepper beard tickled my lips and cheek, eliciting a girlish beşiktaş escort giggle from me. Lost in the passion of the kiss, I once again forgot the presence of the third man who I now noticed was panning up and down, to the kiss and then back down to where I firmly gripped my lover’s thickly veined cock, gently tugging on it each time his tongue thrust against mine or darted to my cheeks. Then I suddenly had that moment at, which I fully recognized what I’m doing and what I’m wearing while doing it (could at once feel the seams in the stockings, the tight panties sculpting my ass, the tits in the lacy bra, the blush, eyeliner and lipstick, the strawberry-blonde wig, the pumps barely supporting my swooning weight) and felt a rush of ecstasy that, combined with a heel catching a groove in the linoleum, knocked me off-balance and jerked me out of the kiss. I struggled to regain my balance on the four-inch heels, and both lover and cameraman laughed, but not maliciously; it was part of the fun. Part of the game. We were getting on.Hand in hand, my hero and I proceeded to the bedroom, where I’d left the shades up. There was a frequented walkway within view, and I didn’t have a problem with Peeping Toms. I sat down on the bed to get eye level with my man’s now throbbing cock and thrust it into my mouth, wildly sucking and groaning, occasionally releasing it to flick my tongue all over the head and down the shaft to where his tightening balls now lifted a bit, as he moved his leg so I could get my whole face underneath, dropping his sweat-glistening balls into my mouth. And as I slurped at them like a scoop of ice cream, I recalled the presence of the third man, who was now inches from my face, capturing the sights and sounds of my slurping. I craned my neck to face the camera and let it (him) watch my lips and tongue caressing, kissing, sucking and even ever so gently biting the tightly packed testicles, as I could hear the approving oohs and ahs from above me. While the camera obscured most of his face, I could see the cameraman’s mouth and felt as if I could see it twitching, clenching, watering. I could almost feel him wanting to tighten the shot until his face was where my face was, maybe giving me a peck on the cheek, or thrusting his tongue into my mouth as I sucked on the balls. Though maybe this was my imagination. To heal my wounded pride.I came up for air and flashed a wicked smile at our hero who gave me a “good girl” and lifted my chin to where the still firm head of his cock was itching to plunge back into my mouth. I accommodated this plunge and resumed my wild, sloppy sucking of the shaft, now pumping the base with my sweaty palm as his cock continually plunged in and pulled out, half from my movement and half from his thrusting. We were poetry in motion. Sweaty, drooling, gagging poetry in motion. I released the shaft to clutch his thighs, but continued sucking, “look ma, no hands!” and I could feel some foreshadowing cum spill into my mouth as I slipped my palms over his hips to his hairy pot belly, which was now dripping with sweat as I head-butted it with each plunge down his cock. As I pulled the shaft out to bounce it on my tongue, a few drops of sweat from his belly and pubic hair splashed my cheek and dropped onto my tongue like a draught of ambrosia as I immediately swallowed the cock whole again, early ejaculate and crotch sweat streaming over my taste buds and down my throat. “Yeah, suck that dick, baby,” he crooned. (Originality was not his forte, tended not to be for men who wanted what he wanted from me.) After a few more wild pumps of the shaft, now hungrily dragging my teeth a bit as if tempted to devour it, I took it out and the head made a little “pop” from the suction of my lips. I so badly wanted to swallow it whole and in a fit of violence slapped it against both cheeks and closed mouth, as if punishing myself for being such a bad, bad girl. At which I heard my man repeat an ironic “good girl” above me, followed by the hero’s cliched, but no less thrilling next line, “Swing your ass around here, baby, I wanna fuck you from behind.”Didn’t have to ask me twice. I released his cock, my palm caressing each raised vein it slid away from (goodbye cock, see you again soon!) and then swung my ass around as instructed, splayed arms out, face first, bent over the bed, wiggling my ass in anticipation. My leading man clutched my hip and slipped his fingers under the crotch of my panties moving them aside as his now rock-hard dickhead probed for entry. It was dripping wet, I could feel it dribbling at the entrance to my ass. Again I thought of (having again forgotten) the third man, who I now saw in the periphery, getting a side shot and moving in to show penetration. Which. Was. Now. OCCURRING. As the head crossed the threshold and the shaft slid in, I let out a moan so loud, it startled him and he stopped for a moment. “Is it okay?” he asked, thinking it had hurt. Which it had, but was so so so okay. “No, no, baby, I’m fine, don’t stop. Come on baby, give it to me, fuck me, baby. Fuck my ass.”(Was originality anybody’s forte in the throes of passion?) He seemed okay with that and started to pump, but slowly, gingerly as if afraid to hurt me. My groan had backfired: FUCK ME HARDER!!! I begged and he did. A little too hard to be honest, but I was so on fire it didn’t matter. And that’s when I noticed, over my shoulder, the cameraman getting an overhead shot of the ass-fucking. Which is to say I presumed it was an overhead shot from the angle, because all I could see was that…he’d taken it out. In one of my oblivious transports of desire, he’d actually gotten his pants off and it was out. The combination of this sight and the penetration of our hero’s cock and his hands clutching my waist, murmuring sweet nothings above me brought me to the brink of actually cumming (as he thrust I was rubbing against the bed), when there was a loud SLAP which I simultaneously heard and felt. Startled, my heart skipped a beat and then again, he smacked my ass. “You like that, Monica? Huh? You like that?” Before I could answer in the enthusiastic affirmative (his having said my name brought me back to the brink), he slapped my ass again and I once again became aware of the silk panties clinging to my cheeks and the seamed stockings encasing my thighs and calves down to where stockinged feet were tightly wedged into the sleek black pumps, and again came the overloud groan. But this time he recognized it for what it was and brought his palms down in a punctuating slap of both my cheeks and said, “You gonna make me cum, baby? Huh? Huh!?!” The last Huh!?! way too loud (I do have neighbors).

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