Seducing a Partner

“We don’t have a partner in this scene,” Mira said.

She positioned the handheld camera at eye level with the round bed. The other three were already running.

“But you wake up. You look into my camera. And then you pretend your boyfriend is at work. You send him a sexy video from bed.”

Silke nodded, too quickly, too uncertainly.

“You thank him for being so quiet this morning. And for taking you so hard yesterday. Then you say that just thinking about it makes you wet. Then you show your pussy. Your hard nipples. Then you start masturbating. And then you describe to him in great detail what you’re going to do with him tonight when he gets home.” Mira tapped a screen on the tripod. “You’re going to come right here in front of the camera. The video has to be at least four minutes long. There’s a timer running. If you come too early, we’ll start over. A little longer is okay. Go.”

Silke was overwhelmed by the instructions.

So she started stretching. Arms above her head. The spaghetti-strap top slipped into the slits. One leg straight, the other bent. She looked at Mira. Mira was impatient. The timer wasn’t running yet. Apparently, the stretching wasn’t enough.

Then Silke had an idea. She pictured Peter. The man she’d actually send a video like this to. How would she seduce him? She sat up halfway, looked into the lens as if there were a chat window there.

“Hey. I just woke up.” Her voice was still hoarse. “Thanks for being so quiet this morning. I barely heard you.” A small smile, uncertain and therefore genuine. “And thanks for yesterday. You really gave it to me hard. I can still feel you.”

Mira started the timer.

Silke slid one side of her top aside. Her breast spilled out, the nipple already hard. Then the other side. She held her tits up to the camera, squeezed them together, let them go limp again.

“Just thinking about it makes me wet.”

She turned, sticking her ass out toward the lens, her too-small panties tucked deep into her crotch, a visible centimeter of pussy between her thighs. A glance over her shoulder, as if Peter were sitting at his desk.

“Tonight I’ll welcome you in lingerie. I’ll dance for you. I’ll strip. You’re going to undress me. Slowly. Or not so slowly.” She pushed her panties lower; her labia bulged over the waistband. “Then I’ll undress you. I’ll take your cock in my mouth. I’ll suck you until you can’t stand anymore. And then you’ll fuck me. In my pussy. Hard. Just like yesterday.”

Two fingers under the waistband. Wetness. She pointed her slit at the camera, spread it briefly, closed it, rubbed her clit.

She glanced at the timer.

She was close. Time wasn’t up yet.

She stroked herself more slowly.

Fuck. What else could she say?

He wanted her ass. He’d been pissed when someone else had had it. The thought settled hotly behind her pubic bone.

Silke got down on her knees, stuck her ass out, pulled her panties aside, and held the hole open with two fingers. Small. Dark. Visible.

“Today I’m giving you my ass. You can fuck me there, too.”

Mira stopped the timer.

“We need a cut. Don’t stop. That was very good.” The handheld camera stayed up. “I want you to promise him. Look into the camera. And promise him when he comes home.”

Silke’s thoughts were still with Peter.

She lay on her back, slid two fingers inside herself—deep, wet—and looked into the lens as if he could watch the video during the break.

“I promise. You can do that with me tonight.” Her fingers kept working. “I hope you’re nice and hard at work right now.” A sound escaped her that she hadn’t intended. “Oh God. I’m so fucking horny right now.”

That wasn’t an act.

The timer started again. Three minutes had passed. She needed one more.

“And if you want,” she gasped, her hips already restless, “you can bring someone along, too. One in my ass. And one in my pussy.”

Mira said nothing. She filmed.

Silke rubbed faster, because time allowed it and her body was doing it anyway. Her tits bounced in the slits. The panties, which were too small, were now just a wet strip. She came into the camera with her mouth open, a long, shaky moan; her pussy clenched around her fingers, wetness running down the panties onto the round bed. Her nipples twitched. Her inner muscles kept contracting, visibly.

Mira filmed until the twitching subsided.

“You have a five-minute break.” She lowered the screen. “That was better than I’d hoped. I’m very satisfied.”

The praise triggered a twitch.

Small. Immediate. Between her legs. Mira saw it. A brief raise of an eyebrow, nothing else.

“Go get the last outfit. It’s put together like a gift box. You’ll find it. It has lots of bows.”

Silke didn’t wash up.

She changed right away. The dampness remained. The stain remained. Inside the bag were silk and ribbon, layer upon layer, bows where one would normally expect buttons. She understood enough: She was probably supposed to strip now.

She could handle that.

“Satisfied,” Mira had said.

Silke tied the first bow and didn’t think it through.