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It started as dirty talk just a fantasy my boyfriend and I played with during sex. He’d whisper about how hot it would be to watch me with another man, and I’d laugh it off, thinking he was joking. But then one night, he brought it up again, serious. The way he described it how it would make him feel like the real man in control, the one who owned the fact that his girl was so desirable other guys would kill to touch her it got to me. The more he talked, the wetter I got.
A few weeks later, we made it real. No randoms just a guy we both trusted, someone who knew the rules. My boyfriend set up his phone on the dresser, angled perfectly, and told me he wanted to record everything. My heart was pounding not from nerves, but from the thrill of it.
The second the other guy’s hands were on me, I felt my boyfriend’s eyes burning into me. He didn’t look jealous. He looked starved. That did something to me. At first, I was nervous another man inside me while my boyfriend watched but once it started, my body took over. The guy was bigger, rougher, fucking me in ways that pushed me past my limits. Every moan, every gasp I knew my boyfriend was hearing it, watching me take it.
At one point, I glanced over. My boyfriend had his hand in his pants, stroking himself while staring at me getting railed. That image seared into my brain. The guy flipped me over, gripped my hips, and I moaned louder than I ever had before, knowing my boyfriend was recording it all.
By the time it was over, I was a mess hair wild, legs shaking, my boyfriend’s cock already hard again. He didn’t even wait; he pulled me onto the bed and fucked me right after, whispering how proud he was, how hot it was to see me used like that, how he couldn’t wait to watch the video again.
And that’s the part I can’t stop thinking about.
Now I’m hooked. Watching the recording hearing myself beg, seeing how hard my boyfriend got it makes me crave it all over again. It wasn’t just sex; it was power, filth, the rush of knowing we both came harder than ever because of it.
I should feel guilty.
I don’t.
All I can think about is when we’re doing it again.