The day started out innocently enough, just a dreary, overcast spring weekend morning helping my friend Steve and his wife Jessica move.
My friends had been married three years and were moving from a starter home in Voorhees, N.J., to a larger single family house being built several miles away in Mount Holly. Unfortunately, the sale of house number one was completed before house number two was finalized, and they had to temporarily move into an apartment.
It was one of those “friends moving friends” ventures, where a bunch of guys do the heavy lifting and moving while then girls packed and ensured the beer was cold and that there was plenty of it. Nearly all of their belongings were being placed in storage at a nearby facility, a place we got to know well that rainy day.
Needless to say helping out wasn’t first on my to-do list, but it was one of those things that friends do for each other. Plus, it wasn’t all that bad. Given the steamy heat, made steamier by the intermittent rain, the some of the women were in skimpy outfits which made for good eye candy and provided motivation to complete our work fast and mingle at the barbecue afterward.
Some of the ladies were a bit more revealing than others. Jessica, for instance, wore prim Bermuda shorts and a loose fitting top. Boring, but workable given her duties for the day. Others showed a lot of leg, others some ample top.
Over beers, in private among the guys Steve would complain how his sex life was, well, uneventful, as we’d share our stories about how we didn’t get enough nookie and all that…well, guy talk.
I remember sneaking glances at Jessica, and realized that even in her ho hum outfit she was really quite cute. Her smile lit up a room, to say nothing of her sweet little backside which would turn on a blind man. On the few occasions where she’d bend over to lift a box, my eyes would lock on to her form and my mind would wander. For whatever reason, Jessica was the object of my mind’s affections. Kristine, Bill’s wife, was a knockout brunette, and Margaret, John’s girlfriend was a real red-headed hottie, but it was Jessica who occupied my fantasy mind.
Moving day was work, real work, and by the end of the day everyone was beat. Nearly everything had been moved to the temporary storage unit when Steve asked if I could store two boxes in my basement, as he had some memorabilia and odds and ends that he didn’t want in the storage unit. Of course I said yes and those boxes were loaded into my SUV and ended up that evening in the basement next to various boxes of my prior move which never were unpacked.
It wasn’t until a week or so later that I even thought about the boxes. That’s when I was looking for several books I knew I had on travel in Ireland. After searching high and low, I surmised they might be in the basement, and I went downstairs and started sorting through my own still unpacked boxes. Lo and behold I found the desired tour guides, and I sat back in an easy chair and began perusing the books.
After a bit of reading I decided to grab a Corona, but as I stood I accidentally tipped over one of Steve and Jessica’s storage boxes. It was the smaller of the two, about two feet long and a foot high. I reached over to pick it up but noticed the top had come undone, and several items slipped out.
Now, I am not a busybody, but I couldn’t help looking at several great photos of my friends’ kids. They were cute as all get out, and when I was done the first pack I went to the second, third, and fourth. Shots from vacations, softball and baseball games, shots around the house. I went upstairs for that beer with the idea of putting all back into the box, but when I returned curiosity got the best of me and I began rummaging through the rest of their stuff.
There were some books, some old and obviously sentimental items, and a pair of balled up socks. That got my attention, because they were out of place in the box. Holding them in my hands, though, I realized something was inside one of the socks. I reached in and pulled out several provocative Polaroids of Jessica is revealing outfits. In one shot she was bent over a table, the bottom of her panties showing, while her top was turned toward the camera. An infectious smile on her face, she was obviously teasing the photographer.
The second shot was of the up-skirt variety, with Jessica standing, legs apart, on a mall escalator and the photographer shooting from below. This was an especially nice shot in that you couldn’t tell whether she was or was not wearing panties. You could see a wealth of thigh meat.
The third photo was the best of the lot, as she not only had a smile but she had lifted her top, baring her very nice breasts to the camera.
It’s funny, but when I realized I was looking at some private shots, I quickly put them back inside the socks and began re-packing the box. That task only lasted a few seconds — only long enough to realize there was a VHS tape in the box with the word “Private!” on the side. I knew I shouldn’t, but I quickly loaded the tape into my VCR and sat back to see what was on it.
Let me tell you that any thoughts of Jessica being prim and proper were quickly dispelled. And, as for Steve’s complaints about his sex life, well, the man was obviously a liar.
The video opened with a title shot, “Samantha’s Afternoon of Delight”. Yet it wasn’t any Samantha who came into view.
On a large four-poster bed was a woman I knew as Jessica, laying back on several pillows and reading a book. She was wearing a dark blue baby doll nightie with light blue satin panties. Her lips were bright red, the same shade as her finger and toenails. She looked adorable, sexy and a lot different than the wife of my friend. She appeared to be so sensual, and all she was doing was reading a book.
That scene didn’t last long, as soon her eyes opened wide as she read a passage of the book. Eyes glued to the page, she reached down between her legs with her left hand and began caressing the outside of her panties. It didn’t take long for a bit of wetness to appear, and soon she slipped her hand inside the satiny briefs. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know she was slowly fingering her creamy slit.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Here was my friend’s wife performing for the camera. And performing in a very hot manner. Soon, the book was put on the bed stand, and Jessica was wiggling out of her underwear, sliding those panties down her thighs and baring a lightly trimmed brownish bush. After leaning back, her hand and especially one lucky finger began attacking that pussy, and I could hear, with the volume up high, her heavy breathing and light moans and groans.
“Oh Steve, oh yes, tongue me there, lick my clit,” she moaned, barely understandable, to her imaginary lover. “That feels so good.”
Jessica fingered herself for several minutes before reaching into the bed stand door and removing a long candle, which she proceeded to rub against her pussy. Her eyes were closed as she opened her pussy lips with one hand before slowly sliding the candle up her slot. She began stroking the candle in and out of her wet pussy, rocking on the bed to the tune of love.
The woman was obviously hot, very hot, and the camera caught every sensual move. Jessica closed her eyes and moved her butt up and down on the bed as the artificial cock fucked her sloppy wet hole.
The camera moved a bit as the inexperienced operator (Steve?, I wondered) watched the writhing woman. He’d zoom in to catch a close-up of the candle inside the pussy, then pan back to reveal the woman writhing and moaning to the waxy cock’s movement. The camera became rock steady, though, seconds later, and right after that Jessica opened her eyes and drew back in mock shock.
“Oh no, it’s the gardener,” Jessica cried out to nobody in particular. “Go away, go away, get out of my room.”
What followed was Steve coming into view in work clothes, talking in some sort of strange half Mexican, half-Chinese accent.
“Oh senorita, what are you doing? Maybe you need some help from a real man?” said my friend. “I have something a lot better than your fingers and that candle.”
The woman drew back, but the candle was still firmly embedded in her sloppy wet cunt. The man moved closer, baring his hairy chest. He slowly reached down and unzipped his pants, dropping them to the floor then kicking them off his feet.
“Oh please, don’t rape me, please, please don’t,” said the woman in a Grade B movie starlet voice. “I’m a virgin.”
The man leered at the woman. “Not for very much longer, sugar, unless…”
The intruder smiled.
“Unless you suck my dick!” said the gardener. “What do you say? Your mouth or your pussy, I don’t care.”
Jessica, Samantha, or whatever her name was looked shocked at the thought of putting her perfect lips on this low lifes manhood. Now, it wasn’t the best acting job I had every viewed, but my eyes and ears were locked on each and every word. It was like I was invisible, a spec on the wall with a full view of the action. The film wasn’t professional, but it was good. And my friend looked great in it.
“I’m getting my rocks off, American woman, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” said the forceful gardener. “Your choice of where you want this big slab of meat.”
Jessica deliberated for a bit before quietly saying, “My mouth, you can use my mouth for your foul deed.”
Down came Steve’s briefs and out popped a hard cock. Jessica’s eyes widened and she began to pull away, but soon my friend was kneeling above her head. He stroked his dick at the girl’s face, then lowered down a bit as Jessica opened her mouth and lifted her head. She ovaled her lips and sucked the top of his dick into her willing mouth, cheeks obviously sucking on the lollipop tip.