Special thanks to DawnJ for her invaluable help editing this story.
***
Fiona had just told me that she recorded our - albeit extremely hot - sex. Pardon me, not just recorded, but streamed live out across the Web to something called the Hippolyta Project. Or fucking me was the Hippolyta Project. Or something.
A surge of panic rose in my chest. She was my direct report at work. If anyone from the office saw the video, we'd both be out on the street that day, jobless. What if my parents saw? Panic gave way to a wave of anger. She had deceived me, recorded me without my permission. Was she blackmailing me, or just using me?
Then suddenly images from our incredible coupling flooded back in. Our passionate kissing. Her bare pussy peeking up unexpectedly from underneath her skirt. Her standing in front me, letting me take her all in, wearing nothing but her excellent tattoos. Her making sure I was watching as she took my throbbing cock in her mouth. Her whispering in my ear, advising me to "hold on," before riding me and taking her own pleasure. Her climax, and mine.
I looked down at her. She slender body still snuggled close, still drawing gentle circles in my chest hair with her fingertips. Her stormy dark blue-grey eyes were looking up at me, pouty lips even more red with arousal, cool hair slightly mussed. There was no malice, nothing sinister there. She was still glowing from our coupling. She had called it "perfect."
In the background, I saw my cock slowly lift off my stomach, filling again with blood and lust. I looked at it with some surprise. She saw my eyes change location, and she looked down, and then quickly back up into my eyes. She licked her lips, and slowly and languidly shifted, climbing more onto me.
She whispered, in that incredible husky voice of hers, "This is going better than I had planned."
I exhaled sharply. This woman ... was this actually happening?
She kissed me. Again, pure passion. We kissed for a long time. That definitely happened.
Finally, we caught our breath. I said, "So, tell me about it."
She slid back down my body again, head on my chest. She began to stroke my cock lightly, caressing it. It occurred to me that this woman was in complete control of her every movement. She had unfaltering agility and grace.
"The Hippolyta Project is a by-invitation-only, entirely female run community for peer-to-peer amateur pornography sharing," she said.
She paused to let me make sense of that.
"Oh," I said.
After a beat or two she made her exasperated noise.
"Didn't you used to be a reporter?"
"A long time ago," I said.
"How about you ask some fucking questions?" she grunted.
"Sometimes not saying anything gets you the best material," I said. "Especially if someone wants to tell you something. Like if they're proud of what they've done."
She picked up her head, propped herself up on her forearm across my chest and leveled a stare at me. She raised an eyebrow, appraising if I was taking the piss out of her. I tried to keep a totally straight face, but I'm pretty sure I smiled.
"I am proud," she said. "It's an amazing thing to be a part of."
"Well my brief experience with it has been nothing short of amazing," I said. I leaned down and gave her a nice long kiss, to show her I meant it.
"Watch it, or it might remain brief," she said.
She crawled down my body, past my hard cock, then looked up at me and took it in both hands. She ran her tongue all the way up my shaft.
"Sex is important to me," she said.
I made a throaty groan of approval.
She pursed her pouty red lips around my tip, and rubbed it between them.
"The Project is a way for women to control the erotica they want to see, to create and share," she said after a while. "Women choose their partners, who they want to share with the community via video, and who they want to share the community with."
"Does every guy get ambushed with this?" I asked.
"No," she said. "But many guys, when they know a camera is on, start performing for the camera and not for the woman who has singled them out as special. So lots of the women tell them after the fact. Some take it better than others."
"How am I taking it?"
She took me all the way into her mouth, and slowly bobbed her head on my cock for a little while.
"Better than most," she said, eventually. "It's technically illegal in most places."
"Not technically," I said. "It's illegal just to record conversations without both parties knowing."
"Sometimes money changes hands," she shrugged. "Usually guys come around once they get a feel for the project and realize some of the benefits. Plus the women who post generally don't choose assholes. I was willing to make an exception in your case."
She punctuated that last jab with a playful swirl of her tongue.
"It's incredibly empowering," she continued. "If I really want a man, I do something about it. I judge his character, to see if he actually can handle it, if I want him to know about the Project. I seduce him; if that goes well, I fuck him how and when I want. I have a community supporting me, completely non-judgmental. It's so sexy to show off my conquest, have them rooting for me. They get to see what I like, I get to see what they like."
She began to softly lick me again. My head sagged back on my shoulders and I stared at the ceiling, mind in a fog.
