I had toyed with the idea of recording J and I for some time, and finally brought it up to him a while ago.
He was hesitant at first, but ultimately amenable. Getting his consent didn’t require much persuasion — just my continued assurance that his trust in me is well-placed.
While he consented to being taped, I didn’t intend to tell him when. For weeks, my head spun with with thoughts of ‘secretly’ recording him and then springing the video on him at a later date. The idea of making a sex tape was hot, but what I really fantasized about was fucking him while he watched himself being fucked. I wanted to make him narrate what he saw in the video while I performed the actions he saw on screen. I wanted him to see how needy and desperate he is when I’m fucking him… while I fucked him. (a sort of meta-fuck?)
And I wanted the whole thing to be a bit of a surprise. While he had given me consent, I enjoyed the idea of him feeling as if he had been violated.
I didn’t mention it again and hoped the conversation would fade from his memory.
In the weeks that followed, the images and sounds in my head were my preferred masturbation material. I fantasized about surprising him with the video while he was tied to my bed in some compromising position. I fantasized about his reaction — his racing heart, his unease, his realization that he had been caught on film — begging, desperate, beautiful, and completely in my control.
While he was bound and hooded, I put on my harness and my second favorite cock. My favorite cock is double ended, but it’s not ideal for the hard, fast fucking I wanted to catch on film.
I set up the video camera on the nightstand, adjusted the angle, and set it to record. In the dim light, amongst the other items on the nightstand, there was little chance he would notice it.
After he was untied, I loosened the laces on his hood, eased it off, and told him to get on his hands and knees. I affixed a heavy chain to the back of his collar, laid the cold metal along his spine, and got into position behind him. By the time I got up on my knees, he was already grinding his ass against my hips. He groaned and backed up harder when he realized I was wearing a cock. He’s a very eager boy.
He didn’t need much warming up — after playing for several hours with no release, he was desperate to be fucked.
With a well-lubricated cock, I slid into him easily, but slowly. He moaned and let his head drop. I tugged on his chain and told him to lift his head. I wanted to catch his expressions — his beautiful, desperate eyes, his lovely mouth twisted in pleasure and pain — I wanted to see all of it on the recording.
After a few slow, careful thrusts, I held onto his hips and buried my cock deep into his ass.
I pounded him hard until I got tired, and we shifted so we were lying on our sides. I fucked him from behind and ordered him to masturbate, but not to release. Whenever he got close, he was to stop completely until I told him to start again.
I wanted him desperate, and I wanted to catch that desperation on tape — his lovely frustration as he neared the edge, his agony when he denied himself at my command.
When I was done with him, he was a beautiful mess. I held him for a while and told him what a good boy he had been for me. I promised to let him come… soon.
I left for a moment to fetch us some water. When I returned, I set my glass on the nightstand and handed him his own. As he drained it, I pressed the button on the camera to stop the recording, and pulled a haphazardly flung t-shirt over the top, obscuring it from view.
(to be continued… maybe…)