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“Close my eyes. Last long. Change positions,” Brice repeats the words as though he were studying for a test.
“And make it feel real,” Greg adds. “So any questions?”
So many, actually. Like how did I end up here, preparing to masturbate before a room of cameramen and other onlookers? How am I supposed to even start? Is Brice really okay with all of this?
As I walk across the studio, I feel distinctly like I’m in a dream where I’ve forgotten to wear clothes. But as I lie down, the pillow under my head smelling of sweat and other body fluids, the reality of my situation sinks in. And when Greg places his hand on his crotch, signaling for me to do the same, I know that somehow I’ve ended up in a nightmare.
Part II
Performing Together
Chapter 5
I might as well be a high school boy getting to third base for the first time.
The lights are already overbearing, guaranteeing that I’ll be sporting a sheen of sweat in no time. Then there are the cameras. Two of them. One stationary, about ten feet away from me, and the other held on the shoulders of a middle-aged man who, from the looks of him, goes home every night to an empty house and subsists on a diet of Cheetos and frozen pizzas. Lastly there’s Greg, staring at me from behind the glare of lights, holding his arm in the air. Then he brings it down as though signaling the beginning of a race and simultaneously announces, “Action!”
All eyes are on me. Me in my boy shorts and sleeveless shirt reclining on a bed that isn’t mine. Me with one hand on my breast and the other on my crotch. I’m supposed to start rubbing myself and moaning, but the whole thing feels so artificial. I’ve never been so turned off in my life. I freeze, but Greg doesn’t call for us to cut, so I try and slowly ease into it.
This isn’t my first time masturbating in front of an audience. But before I was in my own bedroom, able to escape the eyes at any time. Everything here is so immediate, so visceral. I feel like an amateur, which I guess is exactly what I am. I try to remember how I used to get in the mood when I did this sort of thing before. I guess I thought about someone doing things to me, but all I can think of right now are the cameramen and Greg and the Cheetos-stained shirt of the man aiming a camera right between my legs.
Then I catch a glimpse of Brice. I can barely see him for the glare of the lights. He’s in the shadows, half hidden by a cabinet set up in the corner. I can’t see his face, but I try to imagine it. This leads me to remember last night and the way his body felt against mine. I try to rub my fingers naturally back and forth over the boy shorts, adding in a few soft moans. I bite my lips. Grind against my hand. But it’s still all just acting. And if I can feel that I’m acting, I can’t imagine how artificial it all must look on the other side of the lens.
Still Greg does not call for me to stop. He keeps the cameras rolling, so I have no choice but to continue as well.
I’ve faked orgasms in the past, but I try to avoid doing so when I’m camming. Some guys can tell, and they’re usually the ones that tip the best. But right now I can’t see how I have any other choice. I close my eyes again and arch my back as though I’m really getting into it. After throwing my head to the side I look down at my hand as though I can’t believe I’m actually getting myself off. Like I’m doing something taboo. When the truth is that everything is fake and carefully thought out.
Brice chooses this moment to edge out from the shadows. He’s watching me, and I can tell that all of his judgmental, holier-than-thou thoughts have been pushed away by his beefier carnal side. Pure lust radiates from his eyes as they catch mine. We lock eyes for just a moment, but it’s enough to propel me past the block I’ve been feeling. Immediately, I slide my hand under my boy shorts and rub a single finger up my slit. I’m wet, but not soaking. It won’t take long though. Not now that I have his face seared in my brain. Not only that, but even with my eyes now closed, I’m sure he’s still watching. Studying my movements. Growing hard in his pants. Thinking of nothing but being inside of me.
Gone is my stilted acting. All the other people in the room have faded from my awareness. In my mind there’s only Brice watching me from the corner. The next moan that escapes me is real. My free hand going under my shirt and squeezing at my nipple is real too. I’m no longer thinking about what people want to see; I’m thinking about what I want. And what I want is Brice.
Thankfully, I don’t have to wait much longer. Greg must give a Brice a cue, for I suddenly hear his footsteps. Instinctually I open my eyes and see him at the foot of the bed. He’s got his dick in his hands, pumping it. Fantasizing about being in me. For a moment, we freeze like this. I forget that I’m supposed to act surprised at being caught. The handheld camera then sweeps around behind Brice, and I’m back in reality. I take the reins of the scene, first covering up like I’m ashamed at having been caught. But I keep peeking out of the blanket as Brice continues to plea
sure himself. I can only hope that he is like me. That this isn’t some act, but that I am truly the image in his head that is keeping him going right now. I lick at my lips and uncover myself slowly. Brice pumps away at his cock faster. When I sit up and pat the space next to me, he leaps onto the bed without any further prompting.
The Brice placing his hands on my shoulders, pressing me into the bed, isn’t the Brice of earlier. Gone is the betrayal from our surprise meeting with Greg. The silent treatment has faded away too, for he is now whispering in my ear as he licks at my earlobes. Messages just for me, not for the camera crew.
“You make me absolutely wild, did you know that?” he says first, which I respond to by moaning as he slides his fingers over my labia, spreading them just enough to catch a bit of my overflowing juices and using the lubrication to spread over my clitoris. “Do you want me? Do you really want me?”
“Yes,” I gasp out, far louder than he was speaking. I’m sure that the microphones picked that up, but it will easily be interpreted as over exuberance at all the things Brice is making me feel. No one except for Brice will ever know that this isn’t an act. That we are truly making love, even if we’re hardly alone.
He works down to my breasts, licking at them while rubbing his hands through my hair. Then he’s pulling me back up and guiding my head down to his cock. He isn’t forceful, but it’s clear what he wants. And I’m only too happy to oblige.
I go down on him, taking his full length in his mouth, feeling him quiver as I slide my tongue over his tip. I’m only at it for thirty seconds before he’s pulled me back up.
Brice has always been the type of guy that you imagined would be a bit shy in bed. The kind that would only be into vanilla sex, never crossing any lines without explicit permission. Not the type for rough sex of any sort. But some switch in Brice has flipped. I can only guess that it’s the fact that he knows I want him now. That’s the difference from our first time the night before. He’s no longer doubting himself. He’s no longer doubting us.
He flips me over and pulls my ass up so that I’m on all fours. I can feel the tip of his cock resting right over the entrance to my vagina. Any second now he’ll push in and fill me. We’ll be rocking back and forth, racing towards the glorious release of orgasm. But just before we can join together, Greg calls out, “Cut!”
I’m frozen in a most compromising position. Now that I’m out of the moment, catching my breath, feeling how cold I am since Brice has removed my flimsy articles of clothing (which I honestly don’t even remember him doing), I realize how many other pairs of eyes are in this room. My fall back to reality is sudden and harsh.
Brice is forced to put on a condom, which is fine even though I’m on birth control. What’s not so fine is trying not to move so that when the cameras start rolling again we’re not in very different positions. It needs to be a smooth cut from one camera to the next. Brice is struggling to get the condom on as quickly as possible, I’m sure half because he wants to continue but also so he can stop thinking about how everyone in the room is waiting for him to slip the rubber on over his cock.
“It’s the law is all,” Greg explains. “All intercourse must involve a condom.”
Brice’s cock doesn’t know the law, however. And it’s shrinking under the mounting pressure. When I look back at Brice, I see panic in his eyes. He’s losing his hard-on now that he’s back in reality. As I’m on all fours, it takes some maneuvering to reach back and take hold of his cock, but when I wrap my fingers around it, I pump up and down a few times. In no time he’s rock hard and soon sporting a flesh-colored condom.
“We’re ready to roll,” Greg says while moving his hand in a circular motion over his head as if he were directing a plane where to land. Brice places the tip of his dick on my pussy. The soft contact has me wet again in anticipation. As soon as Greg shouts, “Action,” Brice pushes inside.
