Apparently, some tech bro who works for Pornhub really liked my story, Camera Shy, and somehow traced me to my real email address with a simple inquiry: Can I film a reenactment of Camera Shy? With you in the starring role?

I was flustered, scared, and yes a little intrigued, but I explained to him that I was married and didn’t crossdress anymore. 

I sent the email and was overcome with anxiety. Someone knew who I was. What if he outed me, posting my information in the comments on my story?

Yet I was also wondering…what would it be like to…enact that scene? Because it hadn’t really happened. I had used some real details from actual trysts, but they were embellished and the scenario was whole cloth invented. I had only had a few experiences before I stopped dressing and got married and had never really…explored.

No. No.  Way too risky. Leave well enough alone I thought and hoped I wouldn’t hear from him again. 

The next morning I received a reply asking what it would take to get me back into bra and panties. He assured me of the site’s security and that he could even blur my face in the video. Then he offered me money. “Let’s negotiate.” 

I explained to him that I don’t even own any women’s clothes anymore–no wig or breast forms, nothing. And my wife’s clothes didn’t fit me. Sorry. 

“I can provide all those things. Just give me your size and I’ll have a nice outfit here waiting for you.”

I thought about this. Imagined it. So apparently we were negotiating. 

“No, sorry. I really can’t. It’s too risky for me,” I responded. “Thanks for the offer, but I really have to pass.” 

And that was that. No more emails. I was relieved (and a little disappointed) that he’d given up so easily. 

Then the following week I received another email from him. He’d upped the offer and included a picture of my prospective outfit, as well as a close-up picture of his dick. Fully erect. 

I couldn’t help myself. I sent a shamelessly flirtatious response but remained firm in my refusal.

Then he sent me a video. It was a short POV clip of a woman sucking him off and then a selfie message taunting and tempting me while she continued to blow him. I sent another flirtatious response (assuring him that I very much wanted to get on my knees for him), but firmed my weakening resolve with what I hoped would be a final no. I told him he should get someone else to play Monica in the reenactment. I’d love to see it.

He informed me that he’d do just that if I refused his last plea, which was a very persuasive argument with another upped dollar amount. To be honest, a part of me knew that it was a foregone conclusion as soon as I had seen his dick. I sent a four-word answer to this last page-long plea.

“Ok. Let’s do it.”

I arrived at his upscale home in C—-----, walked right in the door (we’d agreed that he wouldn’t see me until I was in full dress and makeup) and went upstairs into the guest room where I discovered, laid out on the queen-size bed: black lace panties with little white flowers on them, a matching bra, breast forms, seamed stockings (black), a floral lace garter belt (black), long silk gloves (black), short, slit-hem pencil skirt (black), and tight-fitting lace blouse (black).

At the foot of the bed, there was a pair of black satin ankle-tie pumps with four-inch heels, just as in the story. I was so out of practice, however, I was terrified of standing, much less walking in them. 

On the dresser in front of the mirror was a pearl choker, clip-on hoop earrings, pink matte lipstick, blush, golden emerald eyeshadow (to match my eye color–hazel–which I’d informed him of upon request), false eyelashes, eyeliner and a lot of stuff I couldn’t even identify. And, of course, the strawberry blonde wig. 

I took a deep breath and for the first time in over a decade, undressed and began to roll the first stocking up my leg, hitching it up my thigh. Then the next. Then I stepped into the lace panties and slid them up over my thighs and ass, depositing my swelling secret into its silky crotch. Then I fastened the bra, which was a bit tight (he hadn’t accounted for how muscular I might be), and stepped into the garter belt, clipping each suspender to the lace stocking tops. Then on went the blouse and short skirt–the hem of which I pulled down over my little bubble butt in its lace panties. 

It felt…so good. But I didn’t look at myself until I’d gone to the dresser and pulled the wig on. 

And there she was again. Beginning to sink into the role. Ready and willing. 

I made up her face as best I could (was out of practice, but it came back to me) and then had a hell of a time getting the false eyelashes on. As I was doing this, I heard someone at the front door and for the first time heard the tech bro’s voice and a shudder of desire passed through my feminized form. I looked at myself in the mirror, did a twirl, coquettishly lifting my skirt to reveal my ass. 

“She’s upstairs getting dressed,” I heard him say. And with the rush of desire, I felt…dread. She was me. I was the one now fully dressed, made up like a slut ready for action.

What was I doing? A moment of flight overtook me and I looked frantically for something to take the makeup off with. I felt trapped up in that room and wished I were closer to a door I could escape out of. I even started pulling the skirt off when I heard a knock at the door.

And I froze. Quickly pulled up my skirt as if afraid to be caught with my pants down, which was silly because the whole outfit was me being caught with my pants down. I refrained from asking Who’s there? Because he might answer as the man does in my story–Man wanting to fuck you from behind–and my resolve would melt. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry, but I can’t do this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m gonna get dressed and head out. I’m so sorry.”

I had thought this through but clearly had not thought it through. I honestly wanted out. I sat on the bed and started to unstrap a pump when the door opened. Apparently, the notch on the knob was not a lock. 

The co-star and cameraman entered and greeted me with cat-calls. 

“Look at you, beautiful!” 

I checked my profile in the mirror and yes, not bad. He was probably worried I’d be unattractive, but could now see I had a nice figure and was damn near (though not quite) passable when all dolled up. 

“What’s the matter? You’re all dressed up and here are two guys to blow!”

“Ok, seriously, I know this is terrible, but…” 

“And two more due to arrive any minute.”

“I really can’t do this, I…wait, what?”

“Your cameraman and your co-star.”

“I don’t understand, then what are you…”

“He’s here to shoot the scene. The cameraman can’t shoot himself shooting himself.”

This was true. “But, wait, I just said…”

“And we need a shot from the opening and second paragraph. The cumshot and the strawberry blonde wig bobbing up and down in a man’s lap.”

“What?! Wait, no, first of all, the cumshot wasn’t caught on camera. You could have audio of it, but that doesn’t mean I would actually–”

“She drives a hard bargain. Okay, fair enough, but we do need a shot from behind of you bobbing up and down in a man’s lap with your skirt pulled up to display that cute little ass of yours. And it can’t be the same guy or it ruins the realism. So the lap in question will be mine. Agreed?” 

“Disagree. Strongly. Listen, you have to leave. I’m taking all this off, getting back in my clothes, and driving home. This was insane. I cannot do this. I’m really sorry, but…”

“Playing hard to get, okay, you want to tease us, then stand up and let us see the cute little booty in question. Show us what we’ll be missing. You’ve come all this way and I’m dying to get a look at the ass that took those two cocks in your story.”

“Can’t,” trying to be firm, “I really can’t. Not being a tease, I just didn’t think this through, I’m sorry, but I…”

And that’s when he unzipped and dropped his pants. I was sitting on the bed, one pump unlaced, and feeling a bit terrified about where I was and what was happening. He took a step closer and offered it to me, half-erect.

“You sure? If you don’t want to that’s fine, obviously nobody’s going to force you, but if you’re not going to wrap those pretty red lips around my cock, can I at least jerk off? You made me go to all this trouble, you owe me that at least. You need to earn that money, Monica.”

Hesitation, silence, it was beginning and I had to stop it.

He started to stroke harder and was quickly full staff. He reached out to squeeze my breast, which I pushed away and he let out a little whimper of pleasure as his jerking sped up. He leaned down for a kiss and I pushed him away.

“Stop. Just stop now. I’m really sorry, I know this is…”

“Know what? Can you turn over for me and lie on your stomach? I really wanna get a look at your ass in those panties I bought you. I promise I’ll let you go after you do that for me.” 

I took a deep breath and considered my next move. I could kick off the heels and run for my car, but I couldn’t exactly drive home like this. I could just be firm. My masculine tone could stop this in its tracks. (There was little conviction in my “just stop now.”) Or I could run into the bathroom where my clothes were and reemerge as I’d arrived in jeans and a t-shirt. What I did after that deep breath, however, was flip over, put my face in the pillow and arch my back a bit to present my ass to Deven (which was what he introduced himself as in the email exchange). 

“That’s a good girl. Now lift your skirt, slowly,” I could hear him jacking off behind me and became extremely aroused. “I know you don’t want to blow me, but how about if I just nuzzle it between your ass cheeks? Just for a little friction.”

“Is that what you want?” From fearful, barely feminine, my voice changed to sultry slut in a quickened heartbeat. And he could hear the green light in my tone. 

“Okay sweetie, make a crease in your panties and your man is going to slide his sausage between those buns.”

I did as I was told and a moment later felt his hot, hardening cock between my silky cheeks–his breath in my ear. He had lifted the curtain of that long wig from my cheek (I prefer it a bit shorter–blowjobs could get frustrating with hair this long) and was now nibbling on my ear while grinding on my ass. I squeezed my cheeks hard and let out a little groan of wanting more. The groan could be clearly translated: I want it inside me. I want it in my mouth. In my ass. Against my thigh. Under my chin. In the arches of my feet. Everywhere. 

It was actually happening. And I had that moment I described in the story: when you realize what you’re doing and what you’re wearing while doing it. I was dressed in seamed stockings, garter belt, lacy bra, tight black skirt and blouse, long strawberry blonde wig, false eyelashes (a first for me), matte pink lipstick, blush and of course my pretty back panties with white flowers on them, which were clinging to my ass, moistened by his pre-cum as he slid his cock between my cheeks. My hoop earrings tugged at my lobes with the momentum of each thrust and I could feel the smooth, cool pressure of the pearls around my throat. 

This was happening. I had gone too far and now here I was. And there he was, his fingers now laced in mine from behind, his kisses on my ear and nape and jaw and his cock accelerating in its slide between my firm, tight–

Knock knock. 

Who’s there?

The Third Man.

“Can you get that Eric? I’m a little busy at the moment.” 

A name. My fear of four cocks had turned into a ravenous hunger for them and I imagined Eric’s cock sliding into my mouth while Deven worked me from behind. I had never been with two men before. And now…ah, the math made me moisten my panties. 

At the door I could hear not one, but two men. They’d carpooled apparently or maybe one had brought a friend to watch. Five cocks? Even merrier. It had been less than five minutes from no fucking way to insatiable slut mode. 

“Hey, Monica? The other guys are here,” he whispered in my ear at close range. “Why don’t we go downstairs and get started.”

“We haven’t gotten started?”

He laughed, pushed away from me, and good-naturedly slapped my ass. 

“I’m told you like that.”

“Love it. Prefer to have someone driving his cock into my ass when it happens, though. Maybe I can have one in my mouth too? Will you do that for me, Deven? Slap my ass while it’s getting fucked and I’ve got Eric’s cock in my mouth?”

“Anything you say, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart. But wait…that’s not in the story. I thought–”

“Shut up,” I shot back, abashed by how quickly I’d changed my mind. And then, “Give me a few minutes and I’ll write that story.” And it suddenly occurred to me that I could invent any scenario I liked and Deven would…make it happen?

“I don’t know. Realism is an important aspect of this project.”

“Okay Deven, no double-team. You win.”

“I’m serious, you know?”

“You’re not,” I laughed, rolled to the side of the bed, and endeavored to stand on my pumps. 

“I am. Shot for shot. Word for word. As many takes as it takes.” 

He was serious. He could see I could see that and answered my pout with, “I didn’t say we couldn’t have a double-team. It just can’t be part of the movie.”

I smiled like a trophy wife who’d gotten a new piece of jewelry her husband had momentarily withheld and stood there, waiting for him to exit. I didn’t want him to see my first steps in these heels, but Deven was a gentleman: 

“After you, my dear. I want to watch that ass shake while you make your way out of the room and down the stairs.”

Oh good god, stairs.  (Was there a railing? I couldn’t recall.) I did my best Mad Men secretary sashay out the door, which went better than expected, but well shy of the mark. There were about twelve stairs (and a railing thank goodness) and the first three were an adventure. Luckily, Deven (being a gentleman) offered me his arm and escorted me down to the foyer and into the living room where I was greeted by oohs and ahs and a there she is. I felt like a bride being led down the aisle. (There was an idea. If I wrote that, would he…?)  Deven offered me a seat on his Dresden Modular sofa, pinching my ass before I could drop it onto the cushion. 

I made a quick estimate of how much this house must have cost him and decided I should have asked for more money. Though by now it was clear I’d have done it for a dime. Deven sat next to me, rubbing my thigh under my skirt and I took an inventory of the four men I’d be spending some quality time with over the next hour or so. 

Deven: Younger than my type—early thirties maybe. A bit dopey looking, five o’clock shadow, hoody, could be immediately identified as a coder, but had a cute, half-shy, half-devilish grin.

Eric: Forties, full beard, square-jawed, about 5’10, 190lbs., scar over his eyebrow, well-dressed (had apparently come from work); my immediate impression was of someone successful who did not spend enough time with his family. He did not say five words before, during, or after the shoot (aside from his lines) and I thoroughly enjoyed how uncomfortable he was.

?: Fifties, paunchy, balding, meaty hands, would not reveal his name upon being introduced. Ironically, he wouldn’t shut up after we got the ball rolling. For the sake of the story, let’s call him “Sam.”

Andrei: Russian accent, big guy, 6’3 maybe 6’4, forties, blue eyes, good looking in a receded hairline James Bond villain sort of way.

It was Andrei’s hand that had reached my knee while I was being introduced to Eric and was now smoothing my other thigh up under my skirt (a hand on each thigh was wonderful, but two different hands were divine) to where my stocking was fastened and finally veering down to my left cheek which I raised so he could give it a squeeze. His strong hand seized my ass as if to make clear whose ass it was now. 

“And of course, this is Monica.”

It turned me on to hear my name and I gave Andrei (whose hand was still clutching me like a possession) a smoldering smile and leaned in for a kiss, groping for his bulge in what appeared to be scrubs. A doctor?

Deven yelled Cut! and the kiss abruptly ended and we all laughed. But Deven was serious. He was treating this little movie as if it were, well, a movie. I’d later learned that it was a serious enterprise. A start-up. Stories (fantasies) filmed. A return to scenarios one could get lost in rather than the standard three-minute wham bam thank you, ma'am, fast-forward to the money shot videos currently littering his site. He envisioned a Slow Porn movement. Though I didn’t know this at the time, it turned me on to see how seriously he was taking it. It made me feel like a starlet in the hands of an auteur. 

“Ok, before we go off script, here,” taking a stack of scripts from the coffee table and beginning to pass them out, “Take a look at it. We’re not going to do a read-through, but I want everyone to familiarize themselves.”

“A script? Is that really necessary?” Andrei asked.

 “We’ll be able to retake lines, but I want each line from the story delivered in this video. Take a moment to get to know your lines and gestures and we’ll get started with the opening shot. Monica on all fours with her head bobbing in my lap. I’ll leave it up to her if she wants to actually be bobbing up and down on my cock.” (He jokingly crossed his fingers hopefully, knowing full well how it would play out.)

“For the cumshot the camera missed, we’ll just use the audio from Eric, who I would like Monica to blow after we wrap, but if she’s not in the mood he could just jerk off, I guess.”

“Will be no need for him to jerk off,” my lilting voice and sidelong glance assured Eric, who blushed.

“And after the head bobbing is shot, you can go get changed for the reenactment.”

“Changed?”

“This scene is from a different day. We don’t want it to seem like we shot it all on the same day in the same outfit in the same place. In fact, we should do this back in the TV room, so the kitchen and living room shots aren’t the same.”

And without another word he headed back to what must be the TV room and we all followed. Me doing my best to swish and sway on those heels, once steadying myself against the wall, which made “Sam” giggle. The TV room was a man cave with sports memorabilia everywhere and Deven went straight to the easy chair and plopped himself down. 

“Ok. Let’s get started. You two can learn your lines while Eric films Monica and I.”

Monica and me, actually, but this was neither time nor place for schoolmarming on the objective case. Though that might be interesting too. Teacher? I’ll bounce it off Deven later.

“And…action!”

I giggled and looked over my shoulder at Eric who had positioned himself behind me. Went down to my knees, laid my palms on Deven’s thighs, and glared at him. I kneeled there staring into his eyes and then glanced down at his bulge swelling against the denim, veritably begging for sweet release. I looked back up at Deven, taunting him with a long pause, savoring the moment. 

“What are you waiting for?” Sam shouted impatiently.

“Hey! Learn your lines!” Deven snapped, “This may not take very long.”

I laughed, then resumed my stare, “What might not take very long?”

“Detonation.” He replied, borrowing a term from the story.

“I see,” I whispered and looked down at his suffocating member. Without further ado, I unbuttoned the fly, unzipped, and out flopped Deven’s half-inflated cock (he was freeballing), which I deftly caught in my gloved right hand as I yanked his jeans down to his ankles with my free hand. 

I love a hard cock, but may actually prefer this en route state. The soft/hardening feel of it in my hand set me off, but with great restraint, I looked up at him and held the stare a good five seconds before I made my descent. 

Tilting my head, I held the stare all the way down to his lap, watching him watch me as I took him into my mouth. His cock had already started to ooze and my first taste was salty-sweet as I slid the shaft in all the way down to its base, groaning with pleasure and holding it there to feel it harden in my mouth. 

After a few seconds, the head had extended all the way to my uvula and made me gag for a moment, but I held it in, flicking my tongue all over the shaft and back to where the head had firmed and was now oozing quite a bit…wait, was he cumming already? 

I started sucking wildly thinking the time had already come and he gasped and groaned above me. This went on for over a minute and it became clear that he hadn’t “detonated,” though it felt like I’d just swallowed a small load. 

I got back into a steadier rhythm, pulling it out of my mouth now and then to get a close-up look at it and slapping it against my cheeks while I monitored Deven’s reaction. Then that moment of consciousness came again. I was on my knees in a tight skirt, bra, and panties, stockings, and garters, bobbing up and down on a man’s hard cock! I let out an extended grunt of pleasure just as Deven said something to me, which I didn’t catch.

“Hmmm?” I asked, cock in mouth, my inquiry vibrating his dickhead against the roof of my mouth.

“Hike your skirt up a bit. For the shot.”

Oh my goodness. I couldn’t help but notice Sam’s constant encouragement but had completely forgotten Eric set up behind me. Capturing my strawberry blonde wig rising and falling in Deven’s lap. For a moment, I lamented these precious moments being missed on video and I suddenly pulled the cock out of my mouth with a pop and turned to grin at Eric. 

“Hey, what are you doing back there?”

He half-grinned and tried to hide behind the camera. So shy, he was perfect for the

story’s cameraman. Instead, it would be chatterbox “Sam.” We’d need a new casting director for the next movie. 

Winking at Eric, I turned back to Deven’s cock and noticed a second camera set up in the periphery. He must have set it up just before he’d sat down. Thrilled at being caught from both angles sucking cock, I plunged his hard dick into my mouth and began to suck it wildly, on fire now (Eric had really turned me on). After about ten seconds, I heard:

“Whoa, whoa, Cut!” As Deven pushed me off at the shoulders and then grabbed me by the wrist to get my hand off his cock. “Sorry, sweetheart, but that was…that was a close one. And I want to get a chance to fuck you. How about you turn around, pull your panties aside, and drop down onto my cock? Sit and spin a bit while I give you that spanking you so deserve for all the dirty things you’re doing.”

This was something that had worried me as soon as he suggested there’d be more than just the two cocks. I was already nervous about fucking two guys (even one guy to be honest), but there was no way I was taking three cocks in an afternoon. I just wasn’t ready for it. And I insisted upon rubbers for the guys who would fuck me. I explained this all this to a disappointed Deven who put on his director’s hat and made a quick decision.

“Okay. All right. But then I want to be the co-star.”

“That’s fine, but then it’ll be the same lap in both scenes.”

“No, it won’t. Andrei. Come take my spot, I’ve warmed it up for you.”

“What?! So all that work for nothing?”

“You’re gonna earn that money, cupcake.”

Andrei was not thrilled about the lesser role but was so impatient to get his cock in my mouth, that he agreed with minimal grumbling. His scrubs were down before his ass hit the easy chair.

“And…action!”

The Russian’s already erect penis was a bit bigger than Deven’s, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I ran my silk-gloved hands up his thighs and then introduced myself to his genitals, massaging his balls, before sliding my palm up the shaft to where my fingers began tickling the head. As this was happening, I pulled his left leg, from behind the knee, out to the edge of the easy chair so I could get under the hood, so to speak. Wrapping my hand around the shaft, I started to stroke as I slid underneath him, inverted, and dropped his balls into my mouth. 

“Fuuuuuck.” Andrei moaned. He really liked this and I started to stroke harder as I slurped his sweaty balls. 

“Oh fuck,” he repeated and again, but now as if something were amiss, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

And after just a few more strokes, to my great surprise, a spurt of cum hit my forehead as more oozed out and down the sluice of his shaft into my mouth. I had to react quickly, slurping the cum off his balls and tonguing the trickle up to its source. Eric had closed in and was capturing this for the outtakes. When I’d reached the head, I was upright again and began madly sucking the cum directly out of his cock. 

“Fuck…fuck fuck,” was all Andrei could remark as I continued to suck him dry, only once taking it out of my mouth to stroke a spurt onto my eyebrow, which dripped into my line of sight as I went back down for more. 

“You’ll have to redo your make-up, Deven scolded, grinning.”

Andrei let out a last “Fuuuuck,” as I cleaned his cock and licked off all the cum in the splash zone, before remembering that I didn’t want to swallow cum in the first scene, because I was worried about how much I’d swallow that afternoon. So much for that note to self. 

Andrei pulled up his boxers and scrubs and mumbled sheepishly, with a hangdog expression, “Haven’t had someone play with my balls in ages. It was just…too much. Sorry.” 

I rose to my heels, kissed him on the cheek, and reassured him, “Andrei, sweetheart, that was wonderful. Really wild and unexpected, I loved it.” I really did. The shock of that cum sliding down his cock with his balls in my mouth was perhaps my favorite moment of that wonderful afternoon. I’ve thought a lot about it since. I put a hand on each of Andrei’s shoulders and kissed his nose in gratitude for the load he’d given me. 

“Ok, boys, I think I need to get freshened up before scene two.” 

“Your little black dress is hanging in the closet in the bedroom. Get cleaned up and we’ll meet you back in the living room to set the greeting scene.”

And then Andrei did something even more surprising. He swept me up in his arms and planted a kiss on the mouth. It was an attempt to take control and reestablish his virility, akin to his taking firm possession of my ass. I veritably swooned as he carried me to the stairs and then dropped me at the landing. 

En route, I had a brief vision of Andrei fucking me like that. Holding my spread-legged weight and dropping me onto his cock, and then lifting me back up, over and over while we breathlessly French kissed. How long, I wondered, before he’d be ready for round two? I’d take my time with the other men and hope. 

Yet I was disappointed he hadn’t carried me up the stairs (the stairwell was a tight fit, but still). It was thrilling to be up in his arms and I wasn’t looking forward to hazarding another climb in these heels. I wanted to ask him to at least escort me, but he’d already rejoined the others and I suddenly felt too shy to ask. (These fits of shyness regularly overtook me. I could lick cum off a man’s balls but then be too shy to hold his hand.) 

So up I went, holding firm to the railing as the men, gathered in the foyer now, monitored my ass as it swung up each step. It was risky, but I hiked up the skirt with my offhand to give the boys a preview for the upcumming scenes. This gesture received the cat calls it was intended to elicit.

After slipping on the tight black dress with fleur-de-lis embroidered on the bodice, I did something reckless: a quick spritz of perfume on each sleeve. As soon as I did this I was filled with dread that my wife would catch a whiff of it on me when I got home. I took a deep breath, fixed my makeup, and made my way (gingerly) back down the stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, I noticed a cast member missing. Sam had already taken his place outside the door and after briefly describing the scene (already set up, Eric ready for the shot), Deven called:

“Action!”

Knock knock. 

Flustered by how abruptly we’d gotten under way, I tried to saunter over to the door, but it looked more like staggering. I opened the door for Sam (“the cameraman”)* and he greeted me with:

“Hey, gorgeous!” 

“Cut!”

“Sorry, sorry, I know. I’m meant to be reluctant, shy, yeah, I’ll dial it back. Let me get into character and we can do it again.”

“Opening Scene: Take two. Action!”

It was a blessing as my second attempt was a legit saunter and I opened the door to 

Sam, waiting for him to speak. 

“He’s not going to say anything, honey. You greet him. You’re the aggressor.”

“Oh shit, right, sorry,” I apologized and started to close the door.

“No, no, just take it from there. Greet him and ask him in.”

Ah good, I thought, my saunter stays in the picture. Then I turned to face the man who would soon be cumming inside me. 

I led him into the living room and began ad-libbing warm-up come-on lines when he sidled up next to me and grabbed my ass, then gave it a little love tap.

“Cut!” Deven yelled. “Dude. You’re not into it. You don’t even want her to touch you. You’re mortified by the whole situation at this point, you wouldn’t–”

“Suggestion?” I interposed and the men all turned to face me. 

“Why don’t Eric and Sam change places?”

All the men weighed this suggestion. Deven was clearly coming round to the idea.

“Okay, but then I want to be the co-star,” Sam insisted.

“No no no,” Deven was peremptory. This was his show. 

“Would you be okay with that, Eric? If you switch places?”

Eric wordlessly assented, blushing.

“Hold on, then I’m out? I don’t even get to–”

I lifted my skirt, put Sam’s hand back on my ass, throttled his groin, and whispered, “I’ll do something special for you, baby. I’ll do something to you you’ll never forget.”

Sam giggled like a schoolboy and I began to imagine what it might be I could do for him.

The shoot itself would be the most thrilling ninety minutes of my life. But it’s late and I’m tired and I need to watch the video again to review some of the details for Part II of this story. 

*Note: You can read “Camera Shy” to see how the scenario was meant to go.