Filmed and Fucked

Filmed and Fucked mm, ds, hm

"I don't have the money," I told Conner.

"But I just got some camera equipment," Conner said. He flicked his arm at the lamps and tripods in the second room of his apartment. "I gotta pay by the end of the month."

I flopped onto his bachelor's sofa. "Take it back. You haven't found any girls for your site anyway."

"Our site," he corrected.

I regarded him. Conner looked like a typical college slacker. Today he was wearing torn jeans and a flannel short-sleeved shirt, over a tight undershirt. He had this idea that we could become some kind of porn producers while still in college. So far, he hadn't signed a single girl for his "www- dot-Super- Ass!-dot-com." (TM, too, I guessed.) I'd promised him some money despite my better judgment.

"I had to buy some new tires," I said. "Remember that blow-out I had leaving your place last week?"

He stroked his chin - one of many expressions I secretly found very sexy on his smooth face. "We had a deal," he said. "What do you suggest?"

I shrugged. "We could arm-wrestle for it." I glanced to his lean, muscled arms and his big hands. That might be fun.

Conner's green eyes narrowed. "If you win, you get to keep two hundred-fifty dollars. What do I get if I win?"

"Sexual favors?" I joked. I'd suggested such things before, but Conner had always laughed me off.

To my surprise, he took it seriously this time. "Ass and mouth," he asserted.

Where was this going? "Okay. Ass and mouth, any way you want. But only for three hours. Tonight." My cock twitched in my pants.

"I want pictures, too," he said.

That was unexpected. "Why?" I asked.

He shrugged. "You have conditions; I have conditions too. Maybe I want something to remember this by."

I considered. If I won, it was an easy way to escape my debt. If I lost... Conner had never been anything but aggressively heterosexual. There was no way he'd go through with it. Win/win. So why wouldn't my hard-on go down?

"Deal," I said. We shook. His grip was stronger than I remembered.

Conner pushed the coffee-table between us, and leaned on the edge of his ragged Lay-Z-Boy. He put his elbow on the table. He grinned.

I took his hand. His big fingers enfolded my palm.

"Two out of three," he said. "Ready? Go."

We strained. His biceps flexed beneath his white cotton shirt undershirt. For a long moment, our hands hovered at the vertical. Neither of us had a clear advantage, but Conner gained on me. My arm tilted backwards till it passed a point of no return, and he thumped my hand onto the table.

I adjusted my seat and my grip. "Let's go again."

This time, I pushed him. His muscles strained, and his tendons tensed under his pale skin. The slow give of his arm excited me. I found myself wishing we were playing for his ass. His hand slammed into the table.

We settled into place again.

"Last round," he said. "For the win."

I pushed. Conner's iron grip resisted my efforts. Slowly he drove me back, till I found his measure and held him. Our eyes locked over our interlocking palms. His green, eager gaze held me; his expression turned suddenly hungry and appraising. I became very aware of his physical presence: his easy, wide-legged seat in his jeans, just on the edge of the Lay-Z-Boy; his wide chest heaving with breath; the smirk spreading across his face. I wanted this boy, and he knew it. Had I made a mistake?

Looking me in my eyes, Conner ran his tongue across his spreading lips. My grip failed, and my hand collided with the table.

Conner stood, no longer bothering to look me in the eye. His stance had changed. I'd become something else to him.

I knew then, he really would fuck me. I knew too, I wouldn't resist.

"Get up," he commanded.

Conner pulled his cell phone from his pocket. The lens framed his face like a second eye. It clicked as he activated it. "Smile," he said.

I stood, facing him. My legs shook. My face flushed.

"Say hello for the video," Conner told me.

"Uh, hi," I said.

"This is my slave," Conner told the camera. "Tell us your name, slave."

I swallowed; I found it so hard to speak. "I'm, uh, Tim."

"Tim just lost a bet," Conner said. "Tell us what I get to do."

I grew angry, "You know what you get to do. Let's just get on with it!"

Conner said, "I want to hear you say it."

I swallowed. The phone's camera eye regarded me impassively. I regarded myself, reflected as a tiny image in its surface. "Conner can fuck me any way he wants, for the next three hours. Satisfied?"

"And how do you feel about that?" Conner asked. "Are you excited?"

I knew what I wanted to say: that I burned for Conner's cock. But did I want to say it on film?

Conner grinned and reached in to cup my hard cock through my jeans. His thumb stroked my shaft.

I moaned, and my knees buckled. "Oh God, Conner. Stop teasing. Yes, I want you! I'll suck you and swallow! You can pound my ass. I don't care."

Conner laughed. "You'd like that, would you? Face the wall."

I turned and regarded the sheetrock. My heart thumped as I heard Conner moving behind me.

"Strip," he said.

My fingers trembled as I undid my shirt and let it tumble. I stepped out of my shoes. As I bent to remove them, I heard click. Over my shoulder, I saw Conner setting the phone onto the dinner table. "Wall!" he pointed. "No peeking."

I whipped my head around. What fascinating sheetrock!

I snaked my belt out of the loops and cast it aside. My heart hammered in my chest. Heat radiated from my exposed chest and back. My hands hesitated on the button of my pants.

"Hurry up, or there will be punishment later," Conner said.

My cock leaped against its confinement. I snapped open my waistband, unzipped, and stepped out of each leg. My jockeys were a thin shield against Conner and his phone as I stood there trembling. At least the enormous wet spot was turned away. This was my last minute to refuse, to say I was joking. I realized I didn't want to. I gripped the elastic and slid my jockeys off. As I stepped out of them and straightened, my cock bounced. I was hard, maybe harder than I'd ever been in my life. The embarrassment of my exposure was a huge turn on. I released the jockeys onto the floor.

Conner closed in behind me. His fingers traced the muscles of my back. He worked his way down till he found my ass cheeks. He kneaded them.

"Nice," he said. His breath fell on my ear and neck.

He stroked my chest with one hand, lingering on the muscles of my pectorals and abdomen. He found my cock with his other hand. Conner gripped the shaft and squeezed.

"You're really hard," he commented. "You must like this."

I shuddered and let out a little moan.

Conner squeezed, painfully this time. "Answer me!" he said.

"Yes, sir! I want you to use me!"

"Turn around," said Conner. "Pose for the camera. Show that hard dick." He patted me on the ass and spun me away from the wall. The phone lens on the table stared at me. Its little red record light blinked.

Conner waved his hand dramatically, displaying me like a prize on the Wheel of Fortune. He caressed my chest and slapped my thigh. He splayed my cock against my belly. "Tim here is pretty cut. Over six inches, too. And so hard. He must really want to get fucked." He ran his palm over my shaft. I groaned with pleasure and humiliation.

Conner lifted his fingers to my face. My pre-cum coated his fingers. "Lick," he said. I lapped it up; tangy, thick. Conner probed my mouth with two fingers. I sucked on them like a dick. His thumb traced the line of my chin.

He laughed and withdrew with a pop.

"Keep watching the camera," he told me.

I heard him rummage behind me, in the side table, maybe. He returned with a plastic object, maybe six inches long and at least an inch in diameter. It swelled at one end, and spread in a plug on the other. A leather tassel hung from the other: multiple cords, like a cat-of-nine-tails or the decoration on a girl's bike handlebars. Conner flicked a switch, and the plug began vibrating. He traced a line across my face and down my chest with it. Then he switched it off again.

"Bend over," he commanded.

I bent, touching my toes. The phone on the distant table stared at me. I imagined Conner watching the video later, masturbating to it even after I'd gone. My dick jumped.

"Steady there, champ," he said. There was a gloopy noise as Conner dispensed some lube. He placed a hand on my backside as he pressed the dildo between my cheeks. I twitched as the cold gel touched my hole. Conner slid it in slowly. My ass stretched. The passage burned at first, and then simply felt very full. My cheeks clinched, trying to expel the device, but the flange on its base prevented it. The motion was exquisite.

I moaned.

Conner laughed and flipped the switch. The vibration resonated through my ass and hips. My dick twitched. Keep this up, and I could come from the dildo alone.

Conner gave my cock and ass a last pat, then stood. He wiped his hands on a towel, and cast it aside. I stared up at him from my hands and knees. He stood next to the dinner table. He picked up the camera.

"Crawl over here, Tim," he ordered. "I want a picture of your new tail."

I went on all fours. My cock bounced against my thighs, and the tassel on the dildo swished against my balls. The leather was smooth on one side, hairy on the other, and surprisingly soft. The carpet stung my knees.

Conner had the phone to his eye, filming me. "Shake those hips."

I tried to comply without falling over.

My approach drew me parallel to the table. I could guess what Conner would want next. He stared down at me, grinning. I reached his knees.

"Stop there," he said. "Kneel."

I rose onto my haunches. My thighs had cramped a bit, and I shuffled, trying to settle the butt- plug in some less demanding position. My hard dick throbbed, red as a beet now. I stared at Conner's zipper.

Conner placed the phone carefully on the table, just a bit under the level of my face. "I want this all on film," he declared. I stole glance at the lens.

Conner shrugged off his flannel and his undershirt. His chest rippled with muscle, lean and almost hairless, with a light dusting of freckles. He wore a thin leather circlet around his neck, with a little round Celtic cross that hung above the level of his nipples. He shook his dark hair and looked down at me.

"Pull it out. Start sucking."

I took hold of his waistband, glad he let me use my hands. I'd been half afraid, half-hopeful that he'd want me to open his fly with my mouth. This way was better. It let my fingers glance his hard abs and thighs as I worked the belt loose. My fingers stumbled on his button. I pulled the zipper, and his jeans fell away from his midsection. He wore boxer-briefs. His ample dick strained against the grey fabric. I worked the jeans down his thighs. A light brown hair covered them. Conner gave a little shake, and his jeans settled around his calves. The buckle clinked.

I turned my full attention to his package. Conner looked about seven inches long; his cock curved under pressure. His thick head throbbed under my touch, the wet spot spreading as I watched. Conner shook as I palmed him. He shot me a sharp glance: admire less, suck more.

I gently pulled his jockeys off his cock. The head sprang free and settled almost level with the ground. Free, his shaft lost most of its curve, but still turned slightly upwards and to the left. Like his chest, it sported small freckles. I yanked the elastic fabric down to his knees.

As I approached, the tip of my cock brushed Conner's jeans and buckles. I felt like I was going to burst: his glorious dick was in my face, the smell of him wafted from his body heat, and the dildo vibrated my ass. I took Conner's cock by the base, and licked him from scrotum to tip. His knees shook. Both of his hands closed on the back of my head. I knew what was coming next. He slid into my mouth, and I closed my lips over his shaft. I folded my hands behind my back in an unconscious gesture of obedience.

Conner held my head firmly as he began to stroke. The red light blinked in my peripheral vision. I knew the camera framed us perfectly, and filmed his shaft sliding into my willing mouth from a perfect perpendicular angle. I looked up at Conner, as he closed his eyes. He smiled beatifically, and I rolled my tongue over him.

"Oh, god, yes. That's sooo good, Tim."

He thrust more vigorously now, slapping the back of my throat. I gagged and sucked. His powerful thighs propelled him back and forth. His balls slapped my chin, and I was helpless to pull away. Not that I wanted to.

Conner worked up a rhythm he clearly enjoyed. His cockhead swelled. I tongued and swirled him, tasting the salt of his sweat and the tang of cum leaking from his slit.

Conner lifted his watch to his face. "Two and a half hours left, Tim. What do you think? Should I keep using this hole till I cum?"

"Ythh!" I said. "Oh ytth, whvvr oo wnnt!

My words turned him on. Conner tightened his grip on my hair and thrust. The motion shook my whole body, rubbing my cock against his jeans. The tassel of the dildo swept back and forth across the carpet. Conner's belt-buckle clinked and collided with my thighs.

Conner moaned. His balls tightened, and his cock spasmed. I knew he had reached the edge. But instead of cumming, Conner pulled his cock out of my mouth with an abrupt pop. Drool and cum trailed after it. I groaned in disappointment. Conner held my head firmly in place, his cock just out of reach, as he cooled down from his high.

He regarded me cruelly with his green eyes. "Not yet," he said. He reached down and switched off the dildo. I sagged. My own edge faded with the vibration, and settled into a dull, insistent horny hardness. I remained on my knees.

"Stay just like that," Conner commanded.

He rolled his jockeys and jeans off his knees and stepped out of them. He looked really good, naked and covered in sweat. His cock jutted rock-hard from his jock body. This was a boy I'd let use me any way he wanted. Conner snatched the phone from the table.

"Crawl into the bedroom," he said. "Don't stand up."

He pointed at the side room he used as an office.

I crawled on my hands and knees. Conner followed behind, filming my ass.

I crossed into the dark room. Conner flipped on the lights. Computer equipment occupied the desk against one wall. Multiple monitors hung there. Conner's digital camera equipment stood here and there on tripods, facing in different directions. On the other side of the room lay a low cot with a wooden head and footboard, and a red mattress cover.

He set the little camera phone on the desk, and plugged it in. Its little red light continued to blink.

"Get on the bed," he told me.

I clambered up.

"Face that way," Conner pointed. "Stay on all fours."

A camera faced me, seemingly out of operation. I saw no lights on it anyway.

Conner left the phone on the desk. He came up behind me, lube in one hand. "Scoot," he said. "Make me some room." I moved to the end of the bed.

Conner ran his hands over my ass. He pulled and teased the tassel on the butt-plug. "Are you ready for your fucking? Should I use this hole, too?" His fingers found the plug. He pushed and turned it slowly.

My cock leapt, and my heart thudded in my chest. "Oh, God, yes sir. Please, please, fuck me, Conner. Sir."

"Such a slut," he said. He slapped my ass and yanked out the butt-plug. My suddenly-empty ass shuddered. My arms wobbled.

The bed bounced as Conner lined himself up. One hand found my hips, the other teased my asshole with the thumb. I heard him squirting lube, and then he pressed his hot cockhead against my ring. I gripped the head-board.

Conner lifted my ass. "There are some pillows there. Rest your head, if your arms won't work. I don't care. Just don't mess with my angle."

He squared himself and gripped my waist. I moaned as his warm length slid into me. My ass clenched. Conner kept his cock inside me as he walked himself into better position on his kneese. I felt so full, so violated. He twitched his cock, hands free, and I leaned back into him. My head collapsed onto the pillows. His cock settled another inch. His balls fell against mine.

Conner began to fuck me, slowly at first, then with increasing vigor. He pulled back, almost out of me altogether, then back in. His body weight lay behind each stroke, made with the full force of his flexing thighs. With each repetition, he increased speed. He clutched my hips, and his strokes became shallower, until he was his head pounded me deep in the ass with short, hard strokes.

He gripped my neck as he ploughed me into the pillow. "Do you like that, Tim?"

"Oh, shit yeah!" I said. "Oh, yes sir."

"You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir!"

"I heard your little joking offers. I knew."

I almost came then, but Conner changed his pace again, switching to slow deliberate teasing strokes. "Hey, Tim," he said. "Look left."

He clicked a remote. I lifted my head as the computer monitors flicked on, and the lights on all the cameras lit. I saw myself on the bed from multiple angles. One monitor displayed the two of us in profile: the phone feed maybe. Conner's magnificent lean body flexed as he rolled his cock in me. Another monitor gazed up at my hard dick as it swung back and forth. A third looked down from above at my back and the pivot point where Conner's dick vanished and emerged from my hole. A fourth displayed the side of my face as I panted for breath. The last scrolled frantically with text and system messages.

"Oh, shit," I said. "You're filming with all of them!"

"I've been filming," he said. "I just had the lights off. Welcome to the new media, Tim."

I did a double-take. "Oh, shit, Conner! Don't put these on the internet."

"You're already on the internet, bro. Welcome to www-Super-Ass!-dot-com."

My bliss turned to panic. I struggled, and tried to throw Conner off. He pressed down on me, and gripped my still hard cock.

"Stop that!" he said. "Weren't you just telling me how much you liked this?" He squeezed my cock and thrust for emphasis.

I stopped trying to get away. "But Conner..."

He took my hips, and gained speed again. "Do you see that one? That's the chat room; you're already a hit."

If I squinted, I could just make out the scrolling text, full of encouragements and obscenities.

Conner continued, "I knew you'd give in, with the right encouragement. That's why I punctured your tire. Now stop pretending. I want you took look into that camera and tell the audience how much you love me fucking you." He pointed at the camera on the tripod.

I stared into its plastic face, imagining hundreds of hungry eyes behind it, gazing at my flushed, humiliated face, and at Conner ploughing my ass. I almost buckled, but Conner held me up. "Go on, he said, "You've already admitted it once. Now say it so we can all look into your eyes." He stroked my dangling cock, and thrust again, questing for my sweet spot with his dickhead.

It was a most effective seduction. I saw myself mirrored in the lens. "Fuck me, Conner. Fuck any hole you want, however you want. That was the bargain. That's what I've always wanted." I spoke solemnly as an oath.

Conner abandoned the slow stroke he'd adopted for my humiliation and began to pound me in earnest. His balls collided with mine, and I felt him bottom out in me over and over. He slapped my ass, threw back his head and moaned. My cheeks clenched and unclenched. I bucked against him, seeking my own pleasure in his thrust.

I closed my eyes, feeling him, as my own cock bounced and twitched with every motion.

It was too much. My cock jerked, and I shouted as I shot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Conner on one screen, still riding me. His necklace bounced against his chest. On another, my cock twitched and sprayed ropes of cum at the camera. On the last, I was looking away. I turned back towards the lens, letting the audience see me moan and my eyes widen. They deserved it.

"Ahh! Shit! " Conner cried.

He pulled out of me, cock huge in his hands.

"Get on your knees!" he ordered. "Hurry."

I sprawled on the red sheets, smearing my own fresh cum over my shins and ass, as Conner positioned himself above me. The bed bounced. He procured a wet towel from somewhere and wiped himself clean as he stood over me like a conqueror.

"Open," he commanded.

I opened wide, gazing up at him, and held out my tongue. He worked his straining cock in his fist, and threw back his head. The tendons in his neck strained like cables. As he fountained, the first huge drops fell on my face and tongue. He fisted himself for the second blast, aiming at me deliberately. I didn't look away from him. His cum splattered hot on my face and in my hair. A wad ran down one cheek and another went all over my lips. The taste and smell of Conner was everywhere. When he was done, I found the nearest camera, licked his load, and swallowed for the audience.

It was a magnificent sight: Conner stood tall and taut and triumphant. I sprawled, covered in cum, my ass still slightly lifted. It looked rather like the first Star Wars poster, with me as Leia. If I was buying porn, I'd buy that.

Conner pointed the remote at the computer. "And that's our first shoot with Tim Johnson here at www-dot-Super-Ass!-dot-com. Feel free to send him any comments, any at all, at tjohnson-at-www-dot- Super-Ass!-dot-com. I'm sure he'll be performing again soon, but until then, you can download this shoot any time. Yours to own!"

I flushed red, but knew it was true. The three hours were up, but Conner had won my ass now and forever.