I’m on a movie set. A darkly lit setup in a small bedroom. The wood paneled walls extend all around with curtains and candles and lighting equipment and tripods scattered precariously across one side of the room.
Windows drawn, lots of shadows, chatter all around. I’m looking over this camera rig attached to my chest. Tightening straps and looking into the display to check the light levels. The crew is small, a lighting guy, the dude holding the boom microphone, the director, and me with the camera. The clicks of equipment locking into place and mumbles of double checks is quieted by the director announcing we’re ready.
You walk in dressed ready for a business meeting followed by a shadowy tall man, dressed just as well. His tie properly fit against his neck, your buttons secured over a white collared blouse.
The director talks to the two of you closely while my eyes wander from your bright red lips all the way down to your matching red pumps and back again. Our eyes meet and my heart skips.
We’re shooting a short film for a school film festival, and this is the scene everyone has been whispering nervously about for days. The scene is to be backlit, camera catching the shadows and silhouettes. We’re shooting the sex scene, but the director explains that nudity is not essential for the final shots. The crew is placed, the businessman takes a seat in a spacious arm chair by a window and you walk out the door, closing it behind you.
“Action!”
The filming starts. Cuts. Second takes. Angles change. I film as you sit down on the edge of a desk in front of a window, the outline of your figure letting down your hair, inviting the tall man to you with your finger. Your hands unbutton his shirt and caress his chest, your mouth biting at his abs.
Close shots of hands groping bodies, lips entangled, intermittent but soft gutteral moans.
I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable, and have to adjust myself between nearly every cut. And I’m not the only one. After you get the man to the bed, you take off your blazer and slowly unbutton the soft white blouse.
I’m taking care to film you from behind as much as I can. You were supposed to be partially covered but seem to have decided to ergo any inhibitions. Nobody says a thing. You and this man have fallen into another realm, passionately kissing and tearing at each others’ clothes. You kneel down on the floor and remove his pants, my view obstructed by your head full of dark brown curls and your naked back.
I peer over the side of my display, an angle to see what’s happening, around instruments of cinema and naked bodies, and watch as your lips part over the head of his stiff cock. I’m shocked and my heart pounds loudly, but I’m on the job, and so are you.
I glance around and see the others in the crew fixed on you. Mesmerized. Zippers struggling in ever single pair of pants in the room. Even the director is silently attentive and eager to let the moment progress naturally.
I film as you stand up hiking your black skirt up over your ass revealing a lacy black thong wedged between your flush red lips. The light illuminates the curve of your legs, the roundness of your ass, the touch of your fingers tugging at cotton. You slide your panties down, passing through his fingers groping your ass, and step out of them lifting them with your finger to dangle them to the side. His eyes dance around your hips and hand, while his palms glide smoothly from your calves, up and around the shape of you thighs and hips.
Then you crawl onto his lap and settle down with a soft sigh to match his moan. After only a few slow strokes, your hips grind down onto him back and forth. Breaths of passion fill the small dark room as you fuck this man in the shadows. Your hands press down on his shoulders while his are sweetly squeezing your hips and thighs and hard sensitive nipples. As you lean into it fucking him harder and faster, your tits slide against his sweaty chest; your lips bite his chin and earlobes.
When he finally grabs your ass and pulls you up, his dick slides out of you and his hand reaches around for a grip. He cums directly at (and on) the director’s shoes in ropes of white as you collapse onto his face and shoulders.
“CUT!” The director yells looking down with dismay, “I think we’ve got enough here to work with.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ndux0b/cameraman_mf_voyeur