Carole Wilson - Video Games

Gillian could hardly believe her ears, hearing her husband's confession. He had felt the same as she had last night, as hundreds of other people did every day, if what he said was true. If he was right, then she shouldn't have any guilt at all with her own husband. If only her brain wasn't spinning and spinning.

"I'll prove it to you, sweetheart," Stephan was saying in his mellifluous voice. "I have some more films that a friend of Frank's gave to me. I put them away somewhere. We'll look at them together and what will happen is that we'll both become very excited. You'll want me more than you would otherwise, and I'll want you the same way."

"No, we can't!"

"There's nothing wrong with it, Gillian. I've told you that. You don't trust me, do you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then prove it."

"Stephan…"

But he was already headed for his study for the same movie films that had excited his wife the night before plus a few more. He came back into the room with an armful of film cassettes and the viewer. She watched him as he set the whole thing up on the coffee table in front of her. Then he sat down beside her. She laid her head on his shoulder, half-afraid of what was going to happen. "Watch," he said, holding them and pulling her head away from his shoulder to snap the movie into the viewer. "Here look at them with me."

Gillian didn't want to look. She was trembling and she didn't want to look, she kept telling herself that-and yet her head turned and her eyes focused on the viewing screen and a small cry burst from her lips.

"My Gawd!" she cried.

"Look at it, Gillian darling. It's exciting, look at it, look at it …!" His voice droned on, mesmerically, and Gillian found herself staring at the screen, staring at the young eighteen-year-oldish, fresh-scrubbed-looking couple performing a sixty-nine-the girl's moistened lips locked tightly around the boy's hardened lust-swollen cock, the boy's lips pressed firmly, tongue extended, to her glistening pink cunt.

A low moan of commingled desire and perplexity burst from the young wife's throat, and she felt the soft, warm area between her tightly pressed thighs flower wide with the building juices of her arousal.

Beneath the knit dress her nipples hardened into turgid buds, the way they had hardened the night before. She couldn't seem to take her eyes away from the screen, and her breath began to become labored and shallow.

"You like to look at movies like these, don't you, darling?" Stephan's voice droned. "You like to watch her sucking his cock?"

"Yes," she heard herself reply in a half-whisper, unable to control the mounting flood of passion which threatened to consume her in fiery lust. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Quickly, Stephan placed another cartridge into the viewer. The same couple, the same oral love, a somewhat different position. Gillian could see all of the young man's masculinity, his cum-laden balls, the wide girth of his great cock half-buried in his beautiful young lover's ovalled mouth. She gasped, drawing close to her husband, her hand sliding down involuntarily to rub almost spasmodically along his thigh.

Stephan played the cassettes over and over again. A different couple in each, the positions becoming more bold, more provocative-seemingly impossible; standing, with the girl turned completely upside down, her legs locked around his neck; sitting, the man's head buried far up between wide-spread thighs of the girl, his legs locked around her neck and she supporting him with her hands and arms.

Gillian was breathing heavily with intense arousal now, proof to her panting husband that she was acutely excited by these films of others enjoying sex as he was. "Darling," she purred. "That's enough, that's enough! I want you, Stephan. I want you to fuck me, please, please!"

But Stephan was oblivious to her pleas, for his mind was centered on two main objectives; to get his wife to pose naked for him for more movie films; and to get her to perform the selfsame acts of cocksucking which were depicted in the cassettes he held in his hands.

He moistened his lips, thinking that his first step would be to get her to undress and pose for him-yes, that was it, her pussy was hot to be fucked now and she would be a slave to his every whim; he sensed this beyond any doubt, knowing that, at last, she was going to be his on his terms.

"Gillian," he whispered, his right arm encircling her shoulder, his fingers gently kneading her softly trembling tit, "Gillian, I want to take some movies of you, darling, some movies like I took the other night. It'll excite both of us, and you want to please me, don't you?"

"Yes…yes, I want to please you, Stephan, but I'm so excited. I want you to fuck me, Stephan, please…"

"Yes, afterwards." This is easier than I thought it would be, thought Stephan. Just wait till next time when she's more relaxed about it all, I'll borrow a movie camera again and hide it in the bedroom. But he was trembling with his own arousal now, partly brought about by the films he had just viewed with his wife, and partly because of what lay only moments ahead now. His cock was pulsing thickly in his pants as Gillian stroked his thigh, stroked it higher and higher. He began to unbutton her dress, whispering the whole time, "I'm going to make you naked, baby. We'll take some film and then we'll fuck, slow and easy, then hard and fast. We'll fuck like never before."

"Yes! Oh, yes!"

His fingers worked feverishly, pulling the dress down to her waist, baring her richly billowing tits with their ruby-capped nipples and pulsatingly dark areolas. He squeezed them lightly, his prick jumping now, and then he could stand it no more. He leapt to his feet, picked up what was left of his drink, and pressed it into her hands. "Drink this, honey," he instructed. "Be right back."

He ran to the linen closet, and, with urgency controlling every movement now, he found the borrowed camera from under a pile of dirty trousers and shirts in the closet and returned to the living room, making sure Gillian was still on the couch, her naked tits reflecting the pale light of the lamp, checked the camera for film, and then peered through the viewfinder. Again, his cock leaped as he saw what the completed copy of the picture he was about to take would look like.

He finished the rest of the roll of film as his wife sat there in her half-nakedness.

Sixty seconds later, he was seated beside his young wife and putting the self-processing color film into the viewer. His eyes gleamed as he looked at it, at the sharp, defined perfection of the color, and detail, and he was happy that Frank had let him keep the camera for a longer time.

"Look honey," he droned. "Look at yourself almost naked."

And Gillian looked, staring at her half-nudity with moistened lips, her pussy flowering yet wider with more hot juices. Her brain was a seething miasma of alcohol and sexual need; she was nothing more than a slave now, and Stephan was her master.

With excited hands he set up the tripod and prepared the fifteen-second timer, watching Gillian strip the silk dress completely off, then, as if in a hypnotic trance, slide her panties down so that she stood naked and lovely before him, the soft, fleecy blondeness of her pussy hairs wet with the seeping juices of her heated cunt.

In seconds he had the movie camera ready, and his eyes were blazing with excitement, the front of his trousers bulging hugely with the fully erect cock, the material stained with the beginning of droplets of cum juices. "Sit down on the floor, Indian fashion, facing the camera!" And his nude young wife obeyed. "That's it. Now lean back a little so that your tits are lifted up! Yes, yes! Open your thighs a little more…oh, Jesus, beautiful."

He began to undress hurriedly, his eyes never leaving his mesmerized wife sitting there so provocatively on the carpet. At last he was nude, his swollen prick jutting out like a quivering rod from his loins, the head slickly red and pulsating.