After Church

At the end of the hall, I could hear that Mike had resumed the porn film as nonsensical French poured out of the television. I gulped down hard and felt a shortness of breath turn hot and suffocating in my chest.

As I walked through the doorway, a flash went off. And then another. Mike had his fucking camera out! He wasn't a big guy or in shape or anything but there was no way I was going to be able to take it away from him. He looked up from behind the lens and smiled broadly.

"Ha, ha," I said. "Very funny." The blue spots cleared from my vision and I saw that Mike wasn't wearing a stitch. His round hairy belly hung like a wooden keg over a healthy size cock that was pointing straight at me.

"It's insurance," Mike said and put the camera into his gun safe and closed the door. "I don't want this silly shit coming back on me later."

"That makes sense, I guess," I said. We'd both be run out of town if people found out about this. That is, if we weren't just strung up first.

Mike scooted to the far side of the bed and patted the spot next to him. "Have a seat."

I sashayed over to the bed and sat down at the edge. On the television, it was a close up of the tranny blowing one of the guys. Her tongue swirled around the bloated purple head and occasionally she looked up and smiled with the big dick in her mouth.

I jumped slightly when I felt Mike's hand on my leg. It landed at the knee and slid smoothly back and forth up my stockinged thigh. Every so often, the back of his knuckles would touch my dick or balls sending a jolt through me. I reached down to start jacking myself off. "Stop that," Mike said in a low, menacing voice. "You'll get to cum. But not yet."

His hand reached up into my panties and began caressing my nuts. I moved my hips back and forth trying to get off by his touch alone. I needed to cum worse than I needed to breathe.

"You wanna cum, right?" Mike asked. His breathing was faster also.