Carole Wilson - Video Games

"Ooooohhbbh…oooooohhbbbh Goddddd!" she cried out, as if tortured.

"I'm…I'm there! I'm theeeerrrreeee!" With a sudden deep-throated groan, Gillian erupted beneath her husband, and in doing so released his own painfully dammed-up explosion. His cum burned hotly through his swollen balls and through his cock, bursting through the unseeing eye to flood far up into his wife's hungrily milking pussy. Again and again white spurts of scalding hot cum spurted from him until at last he collapsed, his sigh of contentment mingling with her own soft mewlings of gratification.

As sanity returned to him, Stephan edged his body off his wife and rolled over.

"Come on, baby," he said at last, shaking his wife gently awake. "We have to get to bed. Can't sleep on the floor all night."

He gathered her limp body into his arms and carried her to their kindsized bed. He drew the covers gently over her naked body, stopping a moment to look at her beautiful tits and cunt before lying down beside her and covering them both with the light material of the sheet. Jesus Christ, he thought jubilantly. She really spread her legs for that camera tonight. I'm gonna get some red-hot fuck-films of my cock in her hot little cunt yet!!!

The brilliant sun threw a wide shaft of light on the thick carpet as it streamed through the opened curtains and flooded over the bed where the Edwards were still deep in slumber.

Stephan woke slowly as a gentle early morning breeze blew in through the half-open window and ruffled the sheet against his body. He squinted his eyes and raised his arm over his forehead as a shield against the daylight, then turned on his side on the bed in an attempt to escape the glittering yellow light. His arm curled around his wife's naked waist, his fingers trailing through the wispy pussy hairs that graced the juncture of her limply spread thighs.

She sure is sound asleep, he thought with a broad smile brightening his face. Taking those movies must have really turned her on-God! The way she was fucking me last night!

His eyes opened to confront a smooth tanned patch of his wife's shoulders. He opened his eyes completely, rolling over on his back, and glanced at the lovely, sweet-smelling body sleeping next to him. Her face was buried between uplifted lithe arms, leaving visible only a strand of long blonde hair, glistening golden in the early morning Sunday sunshine.

"Honey," he whispered, wanting to awaken her gently. A deep moan answered him. He repeated it, this time to be answered by a low, "Wanna sleep some more." The bedclothes rustled as she lay flat on her stomach.

Stephan silently lifted the covers and slid out of bed, heading for the kitchen where he filled the tea kettle with water. Instant coffee would do this morning. A mewing at the patio screen door alerted him to Gillian's cat's mournful face as he pressed his face to the mesh screen; he mewed again with greater insistence.

"Damn cat," growled the young husband, realizing that his morning ritual of drinking his first cup of coffee for the day in the nude would have to be altered by the demands of the cat. Christ, thought the irritated man, last time I let that cat in and fed it when I was naked as a jaybird, old Miss Prichett called the police. He padded over the thick living room carpet and, spying his bathrobe, picked it up and slid one arm through each sleeve. His sleep-puffy eyes fell on the film cassettes of his sexy young wife, and a broad salacious grin showed off his even white teeth. He went back into the kitchen.

With film cassettes in hand, he gave the cat a good morning greeting with a scratch behind each ear. He put the film in the viewer and watched them as he had watched them last night. Goddamn but she's sexy in these movies. Frank was right! They really do turn you on-and if I'm not mistaken, that means Gillian, too. Got to thank that brother of mine; that little son of a bitch is always right!

The tea kettle whistled its completion and, with a smile still jeweling his face, Stephan heaped a teaspoon of instant into a coffee mug and poured the steaming water into it, thinking: that's what I'll do! I won't go golfing with my pigheaded partner. Christ, if it wasn't for the investment I've been trying to pressure him into I wouldn't give him the time. Instead I'll go over to Frank's private studio to ask for some pointers. Besides, if I'm in luck maybe he'll be doing some shooting today.

Minutes later, after having checked in on his wife who lay cuddled in the middle of the bed, the covers pulled over her head to ward off the imminent morning sunlight and double-protected by Stephan's pillow hiding her blonde tresses, he slipped into the dressing room and pulled a shirt from its hanger.

Having written his wife a short note telling her he would be gone for a few hours, he slipped out of the house and into their Mercedes, a whistle on his lips and a song in his heart.

Frank was sitting having coffee with a friend of his, the owner of a film processing lab in the Big Apple, when Stephan rang the buzzer to Frank's private studio situated in a high rent district of New York City.

"Morning, Stephan," his younger brother greeted him, following his words with a cordial slap on the back. "Just having some coffee here with a friend of mine. Come in and meet Basil."

Stephan noticed the deep wrinkles lining his brother's eyes and the puffiness of the eyelids-a sure giveaway for a hangover. Secretly, Stephan wondered if Frank had taken one of his instant movie cameras along to the party. It was supposed to be a real swingin' affair; wasn't that what he said? Must be great having a social life like that.

The older brother envied him.

A slender blond-haired man offered his hand to Stephan: "Pleased to meet ya. I'm Basil."

"Basil and I are trying to get our heads back on our shoulders after that party last night, isn't that so, Basil."

"That's no lie," chuckled Basil, reaching for a half-emptied bottle of brandy sitting on the end table by the sofa.

"I guess we did overindulge a little," admitted Frank ruefully. Frank indicated a director's chair with his name written in bold letters across the back, a gift from his wife, and seated himself on the sofa next to Basil. He cleared his throat, meeting Stephan's eyes; his own were twinkling. "Did you and Gillian, ah, try out the camera last night?"

Stephan felt heat inadvertently rise on his neck and cheeks as the remembrance of the previous evening's activities with his wife sprang full blown into his mind once more. "Well, we…" His eyes darted over to the sofa where Basil grinned knowingly at him. Damn, he thought. I wish Frank wouldn't be so open about these things. "We did take a few feet of film if that's what you mean."

Basil chuckled softly between sips of his brandy-coffee. "Ah, ha, the old movie-camera-on-the-wife trick," he rambled sagely.

Stephan searched for words, but none of an appropriate nature came to mind. It was as if his entire thinking process had stopped. He finally managed, "It's a great invention."

"Yep, did you take some naked movies of your wife?" asked his younger brother with embarrassing insistence.

Stephan's face grew even darker red, even beneath his bronze tan. "Yes, we took some of Gillian in the living room on the sofa."

Jesus, thought Stephan, I wish Frank would leave these questions for a more private meeting. How the hell do I know this idiot Basil won't call up Gillian and spill everything. She'd be on the phone to her lawyer in a second if she knew I was telling anybody about those movies.

"Did you take any in the bedroom?" the owner of the film laboratory asked. "That's the beauty of the timer."

"The timer?" Stephan assumed the innocent pose.

"The fifteen-second timer, the one I left for you to try out, remember?" His brother sat forward on the white sofa, waiting patiently for an answer. Then he leaned forward even further, dropping his voice conspiratorially. "How far would she let you go? Just a little cheesecake, or did she give you the whole pie?" He laughed heartily at his own humor.