Stroking It

Cheri had been thinking about perspective.

Not just watching his cock. Feeling like it belonged to the person on the other side of the screen. She wanted the camera low enough, tight enough, and angled just right so that when Manny looked down and stroked, the viewer would feel like they were looking down at their own.

She explained it while she was already on her knees one night, his thick cock heavy against her cheek.

“POV,” she said. “Straight down. Like it’s theirs. Like they’re the ones stroking a big cock of their own. I want them to feel it in their hands even though it’s yours.”

Manny looked down at her. His cock twitched against her lips.

“Set it up.”

That evening she positioned the camera carefully—high enough to catch his torso and the top of his thighs, but angled steeply downward so the thick cock filled the lower half of the frame the way it would if someone were looking down at themselves. Soft lighting. No face. Nothing to break the illusion. She stripped completely, already wet from the idea, and stood naked behind the camera with three fingers slowly working in and out of her soaked pussy while she watched the monitor. Manny sat where she told him, legs spread, soft thick cock hanging heavy between his thighs, exactly in the center of the downward shot.

Her voice came through the mic low, calm, and intimate—like she was speaking directly into the viewer’s ear while they looked down.

“Look down. That’s your cock. Soft right now. Heavy. Thick. You’re going to watch yourself stroke it. Don’t look away.”

Manny’s eyes stayed fixed on her naked body just out of frame. Cheri’s fingers made soft, wet sounds as she spoke.

“Feel the weight of it already. The way it hangs against your thigh. The way it’s about to fill your hand. Keep looking down. This is yours for the next few minutes.”

She reached over and paused the recording. The red light died. Instantly she stepped into the frame just long enough to drop to her knees, take the soft cock into her mouth, and suck it wet and deep until it thickened against her tongue. She stroked it with both hands, coating it, making sure it was fully hard and shiny, then stood and stepped back behind the camera without ever breaking the downward angle for long.

She hit record again.

“Look down,” she murmured, voice still soft while her fingers slid back inside herself. “Hard now. Thick. Veiny. That’s your big cock. Wrap your hand around it. Start stroking.”

On camera, Manny’s hand closed around the thick shaft from the top of the frame and began to stroke with long, steady pulls. The downward angle made it look exactly like a point-of-view shot of someone working their own cock. Cheri’s voice stayed low and close.

“Feel it in your hand. The heat. The thickness. The way the skin moves under your palm. Keep looking down. Keep stroking. This is what it feels like to have a big cock of your own.”

She paused the camera again. This time she stepped in, straddled his thighs while staying mostly out of the main downward shot, and ground her soaked pussy along the underside of his cock while he continued stroking above her. The wet sounds mixed with the soft, slick sound of his fist. When she was shaking she slipped away and returned behind the camera, thighs shiny.

Record.

“Faster now,” she said, voice lower. “Look down at it. Watch your hand work that thick shaft. Watch the head flare and leak. Feel how heavy it is. Feel how hard it is. Keep stroking like it’s yours… because right now it is.”

On camera, Manny’s strokes grew longer and firmer, the downward POV making every movement feel personal and close. The thick cock glistened. The head stayed centered in the frame. Cheri’s fingers worked deeper inside herself.

“Keep looking down. Don’t look up. Don’t look away. This is your cock. Big. Thick. Throbbing in your hand. Stroke it. Feel it. Own it.”

She paused one last time. Climbed onto the bed, pushed his hand away, and sank down onto the thick cock in one slow, greedy push so the camera still caught the base of him disappearing inside her from the high downward angle. She rode him for several deep, wet strokes—just long enough to coat him and leave her trembling—then lifted off and returned behind the camera, dripping.

“Final stretch,” she said, voice tight. “Look down. Stroke it. This is your big cock. Make it cum like it’s yours.”

She let the camera run while Manny stroked with long, heavy, deliberate pulls, the downward angle holding the illusion the entire time, until her own legs were shaking. Then she stopped the recording. The red light died.

The second the camera was off, whatever control Cheri had left snapped.

She shoved Manny onto his back, climbed on top of him, and sank down onto his thick, spit-and-pussy-slick cock in one messy, desperate drop. A broken, wordless sound spilled out of her. She didn’t ride him with any rhythm or technique—she just bounced and ground like her brain had switched off, tits swinging, mouth hanging open, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“F-fuck—big cock—nngh—”

She came almost immediately, hard and sloppy. Her pussy clamped down and a heavy spray of fluid gushed out around his shaft, soaking his stomach. She didn’t stop or even slow down. She kept slamming her hips down, moaning like a brainless slut, drooling a little as another orgasm ripped through her almost on top of the first. More wetness poured out of her, messy and uncontrolled.

Manny just held her hips and let her use him. Cheri’s voice dissolved into dumb, high, unbroken whimpers and gasps. She came a third time with a full-body shudder, squirting harder, thighs shaking violently. Then a fourth—longer, wetter—her pussy making filthy, rhythmic squelching sounds as she kept bouncing through it like she couldn’t remember how to stop.

By the fifth she was practically sobbing, forehead dropped against his chest, still grinding in mindless circles, still cumming in messy waves that left both of them drenched. The sixth hit while she was barely moving at all, just twitching and leaking around him, completely fucked-out and vacant, a stupid little smile on her face as the last pulses of wetness leaked out of her.

She collapsed forward, still impaled, breathing hard and drooling slightly against his collarbone, completely spent and brainless.

Manny stroked her hair once.

Cheri made a soft, satisfied, completely empty sound and nuzzled closer, still full of him, still dripping, the last of her thoughts clearly gone.