Bed Spread

Phil erupted with a sharp burst of laughter and Chris heaved underneath me, sputtering like a surfacing whale.

“You can suck my cock with salt on it if you like, but no vinegar. How about it?”

“I’ll take a taste and make up my mind,” I said to him.

Phil came back towards me, quickly, almost tripping over a electric cable in his haste to get his camera in my face. My shyness seemed to be disappearing under the effects of Chris’s lapping tongue like melting ice cream because I waited until Phil was ready before I put Chris’s prick into my mouth.

“Nice one, Tami, nice one. Now how about the two of you really getting to know each other better? Let’s have some good one on one sex here, folks.”

Phil turned up the lighting a notch, I sucked on Chris’s cock and now at I didn’t have to imagine what Perdita had done with him because I was doing exactly the same sort of things.

What was odd was how smoothly I’d gone through the scruples barrier: respectable business girl to harlot in about fifteen minutes from a lying start. Of course I owed it all to Chris being a totally unscrupulous bastard but I’d known that much about him all along.

“Not bad, not bad,” I heard Phil say. “Now let’s try something else, hey?”

“Got any ideas?” Chris asked. At least I think that was what he said, it was hard to tell, his voice was pretty muffled.

Anyway, Phil did have an idea, the idea of me sucking Chris off strongly with him holding onto my hair to make sure I made a good job of the blow job.

“Well, Tami, what a lovely little sucker you’ve turned out to be,” Chris chortled. “My favorite kind of girl — dumb as shit but with a big mouth.”

I did consider giving him at least a gentle bite but I knew I’d get hurt right back if I tried anything like that so instead I concentrated on getting his hot cock as far down my throat as I could. And Phil took plenty of pictures of everything that was going down — way down.

“I wonder if she’s still got that field hockey uniform?”

“Don’t worry, she’ll find one if it means doing this again. She’s getting as horny as hell thinking of what these pictures of her are going to look like. And now I’m going to get her ready for them.”

Chris made me kneel down on the bed facing the camera with him behind me. And then his fingers began caressing my wet cunt lips.

“OK, Tami, are you ready to be fucked now?”

“Oh God, yes!”

His other hand slid around underneath me and tugged on a swollen nipple.

“How about if I take you the way you are? You want to be ridden from behind with a nice big cock ramming into you?”

“Come on, Chris, you know what I want, please … you can feel me dripping … ”

“Let’s have a nice big smile for the camera then. And hot little fillies who want mounting need a bridle.”

I didn’t understand what he meant, not even when he was rolling the stockings down to my knees and off my legs. It wasn’t until one of the stockings was pulled tight into my mouth that I realized what Chris meant about a bridle.

The son of a bitch kept my head pulled back as he slapped me hard on each cheek before putting his shaft where I needed it, and even then he kept teasing me centimeter by centimeter. I guess he enjoyed showing that not only was I under his control but he also had more self control than I possessed.

“Right, you bitch, you’ve been wanting this ever since you heard how I fucked your friend in front of a camera. Nod your head and it’s all yours!”

I jerked my head as much as I could against the restraining stocking and Chris slid himself all the way into me. If I hadn’t been gagged so effectively I would have screamed with joy.

And there I was, exactly as Chris had said I would be, letting him fuck me with plenty of photos still to be taken to prove that I could be as low down a slut as any other girl when I wanted to be. And I was loving every second of it, even more so when Phil took the stocking out of my mouth. Then I was able to gasp for breath and call out Chris’s name in encouragement.

I seemed to be motivating Phil as well. He was busy with the camera, as usual, but away on one side and I couldn’t understand exactly what he was doing, not having any attention to spare as Chris and I rutted away like wild animals. Only later on did I find out that he’d been taking some shots of us in a mirror.

“I thought perhaps you’d like something with a nice romantic touch, seeing that the pair of you were getting along so well,” he explained. “Just in case you wanted something nice to send home to your mother.”

“I don’t think my mother would be interested in this sort of scene,” I told the guys. “She doesn’t follow football at all.”