I set my iPhone down on the hotel’s table and checked the angle of the camera. Just right. I had a clear view of the bed where I’d be fucking Armando in just a few short hours. I’d be upfront about it, of course. And I knew he wouldn’t mind. This was just something I needed to hold me over while he was away, a visual of the amazing times I’d had with him, a video of our time together that was all for me.
My heart did it’s racing thing. I had never recorded myself having sex and I wasn’t sure what to expect or how I’d feel about it. There was excitement to be sure. To actually watch him kiss me, caress me, fuck me. I wanted to take in his pleasure from this new angle, like a spectator looking in on our shared fantasy. Yes.
This was for me for those nights I woke up wet and needing a reminder, beyond the stories and the text messages. I would watch the video and pretend my fingers were his fingers at my clit and inside my pussy. I would listen to the sounds of our sex and imagine his sharp breaths and grunts of release as if they were happening in the moment. My first sex video.
He arrived. And then I hit record and forgot about it.
The placement was aimed directly at the bed. I am lying there on my back in a pink shirt and new pair of panties I had bought especially for the night. He enters the frame fully naked. Beautiful caramel skin and a cute little ass. We are doing our typical innocuous banter. I lean over when he’s not looking and smack that ass.
“Got you this time!”
And then he’s on the bed, rolling me over. A sharp pop on my own ass cheek. I’m giggling. He grins. And then he takes me in his arms and we kiss. It’s long and sensuous and a completely natural shift from our playfulness. My hands wrap about his shoulders and scratch down his back. At this point, he breaks our contact with a last few quick kisses before running his fingers down my side, exploring my curves until he reaches my ass and nonchalantly flips me over on my stomach to have better access.
Armando has always marveled at how my skin held the print of his hand whenever he spanked me. Even the gentlest smacks would leave a little pink outline.
He runs his fingers across my skin and follows it with his lips, bent over me almost as if in prostration as he worships my body with his touch and his tongue. I lay, relishing the physical intimacy, the patience and time he takes in pleasuring me. He runs his hands up my back, beneath my shirt to bunch it up around my shoulders. And then down his presses, his body atop mine as he angles to catch my kiss, again.
Patience is the best word for it. Long moments of wonderful, exquisite undivided attention. I respond. My ass begins rhythmically arching back to tease his cock. Undulating rhythms of hips to hips, just like in dance. I want him inside me.
We lift up, he on his knees, me on all fours just as he likes me. He grips my waist and I continue the flow of our movement.
“Hmmm?” I hum to him, angling just right for his dick to have easy entrance into me. He swells. He slips a condom on and leans down to lay his front atop my back, wrapping his arms around me, like an alpha atop his bitch. I begin pressing harder, more demanding.
“Shit…” he mumbles under his breath.
Our weight together proves to be too much for my arms and I sink into the bed with him still resting above me.
“I hate condoms…”
I can feel his erection dying.
“You don’t have to worry,” I promise. “I’m on birth control. You don’t need the condom.”
We kiss. And then we let the moment pass back into friendly joking because he wasn’t ready. It was ok.
The thing I loved about Armando, what I love about any man, is when they catch me, unaware. We had been fooling around and decided to mix up some drinks. So there I stood at one side of the bed, plugging in the mixer, Armando beside me. I bend over and in the video it’s easy to catch his eyes taking in my backside. He stares. And then I lift up and am caught in an embrace from behind as he catches me, hugs me and runs his lips over my neck.
“What are you doing!?” I laugh. I hadn’t even started my drink.
But apparently it didn’t matter.
Armando bends me over the bed…
“Armando!” I gasp as I feel a fully erect and bare dick press into my pussy. No condom. He grips my hips and I push back. One thing to note about the position of the camera, I had inadvertently set a bottle of tequila beside my phone that took up one side of the frame. Not enough to cover us but just enough to blur us in the background. Still, the eroticism of hearing us and seeing what could be seen is enough to keep the video.
“Oh god faster,” I groan.
Armando does.
I look to the side where a wall mirror gives ample view of what’s going on and it’s fucking hot and revs me up. We begin slamming our hips together. Armando loves my screams and it’s a good thing because I get noisy. I have a very natural, clipped, breathy moan that becomes a sometimes-cry I try my best to bury in the nearest pillow.
He wraps my hair in a fist. His other hand slips up my shirt to fondle my breasts.
And then I hear my favorite sound of the evening: Armando’s sharp breaths and the grunts that communicate to me he is about to release. This is where I take over. I lift up from my prone position on the bed and drive him deep inside with the slam of my hips. He lifts my shirt to my shoulders again and we watch my breasts bounce from the force of our fucking.
He slows and I look back to see him breathing heavily as he fills me with his cum.
“You alright?” I tease.
“It hurts,” he groans, patting the inside of his thighs which must have been aching from the position he had held throughout that session.
I laugh. He laughs. We kiss.
“Time to make your drink,” he announces.
And that is when the battery on my phone dies, cutting out the video.
Catch up on Armando’s story here.