Everybody's over 18 in this story, FYI. Feedback welcome.
When I was young and discovered pornography (I mean the explicit stuff, not just female models posed in the altogether,) it was a life-changing experience. Not that it was cheap in those days, or easy to select items that lived up to the hype on the front cover. The magazines (see how far back I'm going?) were sealed in plastic, cost around $20 each, and it was a crap shoot if the material within bore any resemblance to the exciting pictorials on the outside.
I was drawn to cute and innocent-looking young women, doing surprisingly dirty things. The idea that a young lady my age or maybe a little older would suck cock in front of a camera was quite arousing, never mind some of the stronger things that were acted out. My favorites were magazine-length, glossy but not-too-polished depictions of couples engaged in multi-position lovemaking. It helped a lot if the cameraman had some flair.
And, inevitably, things would culminate in an erotic male come shot. Preferably, several angles of photography would be utilized to milk (so to speak) the most out of that moment.
No matter where the guy's cum would land, it was important to me that the woman had an expression of ecstasy or at least contentment on her face, seeing her partner's spunk adorning her breasts, backside, tummy....or, better yet, her face.
Now, there's no analyzing anyone's preference for this sort of thing. I can, for example, trace my fascination with the naked female posterior to the early, formative days of my sexual education, but coming in a woman's face was something that hadn't even been mentioned in the dirty books I'd read. Why it should have been such a jolt to my libido the very first time I saw it remains a mystery, but to me, a facial is simply the most joyously dirty image in the lexicon of pictorial sex, be it still-image or video.
Still, I knew it was primarily a fantasy. That is, not the sort of thing you'd expect a woman to willingly do for you, whether she loved you or not. The very fact that these images aren't seen in "couples" porn, for instance, to this day, speaks volumes. Many, I'm sure, think it's demeaning. Not me; the few times I've had the pleasure of doing this dirty deed in real life have only served to make me feel more affection for my partner and delight in her willingness to please me.
The first time for me was in college. By then everyone had a VCR and you could rent porn with decent-enough production values at any full-service video store. Therein lies my tale.
It was on a night when my roommate was out that a girl named Cindy called to see if I'd like to share a little wine with her. Cindy and I had an off-and-on thing but when it was cooking, the sex was torrid. Neither of us felt particularly possessive of the other, which was ideal for college; the real world and all its complications could wait.
So we were reasonably wasted on the wine and a little smoke I had stashed, making out at my place on the couch, with our tongues doing battle and our fingers finding all the best sensitive parts, when I unknowingly rolled a little to the left and bumped my hip into the "play" button on the remote control, the remote that had wedged itself between the cushions.
You guessed it: I'd gone and left a porn tape in the VCR, with the TV in black screen mode. Soon Cindy and I were distracted from working on each other's crotches with our eager fingers by cheap music warbling from the TV, followed quickly by soft moaning. I tried to feel for the remote so I could quiet the thing, still not realizing what was queued-up, but finding myself too clumsy or high to be successful.
It was when Cindy turned her pretty face away from mine and stopped rubbing my hard-on through my jeans that the fog in my brain cleared. Her eyes were wide but not alarmed as she took in what was appearing on the screen, and it hit me then which tape I'd left in the machine: it was the one I'd last been jerking off to, a compilation of oral sex scenes culminating in facials.
"Holy shit, Jerry," she muttered, and then giggled self-consciously. "If you're wasting yourself on this stuff, maybe I should come over more often."
I turned as the moaning from the TV became louder. There was a closeup of a pretty brunette milking a sizable penis with her mouth. Every few seconds you could see the tip of her tongue emerge and lave the underside of this dick. The guy was thrusting himself carefully in and out of her lips, almost in slow motion, as she looked up and dripped a little saliva down her chin.
I moved off of Cindy and took a deep breath. I'd never watched hardcore with a girl, had never worked up the nerve to try. In my mind, I was either about to be chastised ("Aren't I enough for you, don't I do the stuff you like?"), laughed at (how pathetic), or just plain given the silent treatment until I shut the damn thing off.
"Okay, I guess you caught me..." I muttered, feeling heat creep up my neck. "You know, sometimes--"
"Don't I," she replied, sardonically. "I grew up with three brothers, remember?"
I looked at her and saw expressions of amusement and leftover arousal on her face. I liked how her hair was mussed-up, just a bit.
"Oh look, you're all red in the face," she remarked. "Hey, I'm not out to embarrass you. Did you want me watch this with you, it's that why you put it on?" Now, how could I expect her to believe I had no intention of sharing this with her, and had accidentally hit "play"?
On the screen the guy was moving faster and faster, in and out of the young lady's energetic mouth. Both of us, I noticed, kept looking back at the TV and then at each other as we talked. A couple of quick insert shots of the guy's overly-ecstatic face started to appear, so I knew what was about to happen.
I felt Cindy's hand again in my lap, grasping me through my pants and bringing my lagging erection back into arousal. We started looking only at the TV. The camera pulled back a little to show the woman's full face, not just her mouth. She really looked like she was enjoying it, even bringing a hand up to cup his balls and fondle them a little. The prick between her lips looked darker than before.
I put my left hand down Cindy's jeans and under her panties as I luxuriated in the practiced way she stroked me through my slacks. Her thighs readily parted and my fingers found her sex, her moist opening and the sensitive flesh surrounding it. We stared at the TV and felt each other up.
At some point Cindy worked my johnson out into the air, I don't know when. Probably it was around the same time I'd managed to work two fingers inside her and the heel of my palm had begun to work in firm, concentric circles over her clit.
