Fondling, fingering, and filming*

“There’s one other thing, sexy woman,” I say.

“Yes?” Erin queries, trying to focus through a thin haze of lust.

“The glasses I’m wearing aren’t glasses, they’re an experimental camera rig.” I hold up my phone as I speak so she can see the home screen. “I haven’t been taking pictures of you—I haven’t even launched the app. But I would like to film you. It would be just for me and you, I wouldn’t share it with anyone. I don’t treat people like that, and even if I did, I don’t want to lose my job. I just think it would be hot to film you getting your pussy rubbed—and whatever else we might do.”

Erin looks at me for a long moment, considering. Her consideration is interrupted by several soft moans; I don’t stop rubbing her. “You didn’t have to tell me,” she says. “I would never have guessed it. You could have filmed me and gotten away with it.”

I think I have her. “Yes Erin, as a practical matter, I could have,” I agree. “As a matter of character, I couldn’t have brought myself to do that.”

“You asked when you could have taken,” Erin says decisively. “I can try trusting you. Besides . . .” She bites her lip. “It does sound hot,” she admits in a small voice. I rub a little harder, and her eyes close in lustful concentration.

When Erin seems fully at ease, I cup one of her tits in my hand. I caress her gently through the thin fabric. She isn’t wearing a bra; I can feel the dome of her nipple. I play with it, teasing it and rubbing the dress against it. She whimpers a little. Abruptly she stands and pulls her dress over her head. “That feels so good—” she pants. “I want more on my girls. But this is as far as I can go.”

I pinch a nipple gently. Erin moans. “I understand,” I murmur. “I told you, I won’t **** you in any way.” Try to change your mind? That’s another story, I admit to myself. She sits back down. I squeeze her tits and play with her nipples. I keep stroking her slit gently through her panties.

I shift around, varying my position to vary my reach. Erin gets more and more responsive. Finally she grabs my head with both hands and pulls me up for a long, slow, passionate kiss. We eventually break off the kiss. She bites her lip as she looks at me. It looks like she thinks she ought to be embarrassed but isn’t willing to be.

I bend down and kiss her again. Erin responds with startling energy. It feels like I’ve just released something in her. She pulls her head away and lifts her hips off the couch. She grabs her panties with both hands. “I thought you said that was as far as you could go,” I comment quietly.

“I need to feel you skin to skin on my pussy,” Erin says hungrily. “You’re touching me there anyway, it’s not really any different, it’s just better, so it still doesn’t count as cheating.”

“I can see your point,” I reply judiciously. She strips off her panties and spreads herself wide for me. “You have a pierced clit,” I say. This woman has surprised me twice this evening, now.

Erin flushes a deep red. “Yeah,” is all she says. I press my thumb into her naked pink flesh. She moans long and low.

Given her response to that, I decide to see how much I can do with just my thumb on her pierced clit. The answer is highly encouraging.

Finally, she grabs my wrist. Laughing wildly, she tries to pull my hand away from her slit.

I let her, then plunge back in with both hands, rubbing her G-spot and clit together.

Erin arches her back and cums with a wracking scream. Her cunt pulses hard around my invading finger. Her juices froth around my knuckle.

I pull my hands away and stand so Erin can see me. When her eyes open, I suck her girl-honey off my fingers. Her eyes go wide. She moans. “Your husband never goes down on you, does he, Erin?” I ask. “He doesn’t feast on your sweet little pussy like it deserves. Has he ever put his tongue in your slit?”

“No,” Erin moans. “No . . .”

“Then this won’t be cheating either.” I set the rig aside and put my face in her wet pink cleft.