Performance Art

Early in our marriage, when we were exploring boundaries, Fiona and I first discussed performance sex.

I was the one who playfully brought up the subject. One night while we were making love, I taunted her, "Look at that miserable ex-husband of yours watching us from the corner."

"Yes," she rasped. "Show him how I need to be fucked." I raised Fiona's legs above her head and, holding her ankles, I pounded harder.

"Not just him," she whispered. "A room full of people. With us in a spotlight!" We fucked even harder now.

I croaked back, "With cameras rolling, you mean?"

"Yesssss!"

"You would do that?"

Finally with a grunt and a moaning orgasm, Fiona hissed, "Yessss!"

After another moan, she shouted, "I have!!!"

We collapsed, too exhausted to talk any more. The next night, however, we returned to the subject, once again in the throes of screwing each other's brains out.

Between my thrusts, Fiona described fucking on camera with an old boyfriend, the same guy for whom she had had first posed nude. The description had the intended effect, pushing us each into intense orgasms.

We returned to the topic several times over the next couple of weeks and it wasn't long before we made our own video. The first one was comparatively mild: Fiona sucking my cock before I mounted her. To get the best view of my dick spearing her, we ended up contorted with Fiona facing the camera splayed on my lap, me fucking her from behind.

After that first effort, we were more creative: Fiona draped on the partner's desk in our study with me standing and pounding into her. An anniversary trip video featured Fiona in stockings just before we adjourned to the hotel bar where we role played an anonymous hook up and ended up fucking in a nearby powder room.

Our most elaborate effort happened right after contractors finished an addition to the house, which included a go-to-hell bathroom, complete with Jacuzzi. After setting up the camera, we each dressed in formal attire, me in a tux, Fiona in a black cocktail dress that never failed to crank me up.

With the camera rolling, we held each other, kissing deeply and grinding our hips together. In a while, I turned Fiona's back to the camera and slowly ran my hands under the hem of her dress, exposing her stockings and garters. In a minute, her dress was off and my wife was on display, trussed up in a merry widow.

Fiona loosened my tie. Soon my jacket was off and my shirt unbuttoned. Then, Fiona was on her knees, unhitching my trousers and taking my cock into her mouth. Watching the film later I was surprised to see how she utterly controlled me as she plied her always incredible fellatio skills.

Soon, it was Fiona's turn. I raised her to her feet as she kicked off the high heels. Unseen by the camera, I lowered the cups of her bodice and sucked on her nipples. Fiona croaked her familiar groan, rolling her head back. In a minute, I led her to the side of the whirlpool where she sat facing the camera. I knelt between her stockinged legs and savagely ate her pussy.

The video proved how much my wife likes to be on display. As I ground my tongue into her, and her naked breasts heaved, Fiona gasped loudly but never stopped staring directly into the camera. She grimaced with her first orgasm but her eyes never strayed.

When she was finished, I peeled off her hose and unhooked the merry widow. Nude now, Fiona faced me and finished stripping off my shirt, her tight heart shaped ass framed in the camera. In a moment, we were in the tub, which had been filling during the first part of our performance.

I took up a position behind Fiona. Now with each of us staring into the camera, she offered her ass to me and I entered her pussy from behind. We started gently, while Fiona recovered from her first orgasm but each of us soon found the rhythm, gaining leverage from the side of the tub. Each time I thrust into her, Fiona's tits bounced harder and faster for the camera. I learned in a long- ago film class that, "Movies move." That night, everything moved.

We went on for a long while. As much as anything it was for the sake of performance. At the end, we exploded and sank into the warm water.

Those tapes--this was long before digital--are long gone, in accordance with our agreement to record, watch and destroy in order to avoid inconvenient evidence. All but one video, that is.

It exists because we have never gotten to the "watched" stage. The tape, long rendered as a CD, is a leftover from a weekend at our beach house when Fiona posed nude for me and we spent an afternoon filming the carnal aftermath: Fiona getting fucked on the stool where she had posed. The two of us in bed with me servicing Fiona's shaved pussy. Me fucking Fiona from behind as she peered out a window at the ocean.

We watched all of those videos while fucking again on Sunday morning, Fiona roleplaying and spinning out a tale of her adventures with a photographer on Saturday. Afterwards, those tapes too were erased.

The video that remains, is the point of this story. It was headed to what Hollywood might call "post production" when the embarrassing editing details resulted in my reluctance to ever share the finished product with her. She will be reading the truth for the first time in this story.

We began our exploration that Saturday morning dawdling in town and sharing a leisurely lunch. Back at the house, we were each somewhat tentative, unsure how to begin. Finally, I placed my camera on the dining room table and stared at my wife. Wordlessly, she stood and peeled off her shirt. My stomach still flips at the memory of her beautiful breasts straining against her brassiere.

I picked up the camera and began clicking photos as Fiona lowered first one bra strap and then the other. Then she tugged away at a cup, exposing her left breast. It was already engorged, her nipple rock hard. I clicked away as Fiona stripped away the bra and perched for my camera on the front edge of a dining room chair, her breasts jutting at me with their familiar firmness. "I am ready," she said finally.

My reaction surprised me. I have been a serious photographer for decades and was no stranger to nude women in front of the lens. Unlike other occasions though, my dominant reaction that day was not sexual arousal, although there was plenty of that to be sure. What I remember most is appreciation for the trust Fiona shared in exposing her body for my camera.

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her deeply.

The pictures we took later that day are less erotic than they are celebratory of my wife's beauty, and an appreciation of the wonderful gift to me of her body. Before we made those images though, there was a video I wanted to make in order to break down the last of Fiona's inhibitions.

After we kissed, I suggested that she shower and change into something provocative, urging her to take all the time she needed. We agreed that I would run a few more errands and return home in an hour in order to give her unhurried time to prepare for the camera.

After she closed the bathroom door, I set up a video camera opposite an armchair that was bathed in perfect early afternoon light. Before turning on the camera and leaving the house, I dug into a suitcase and laid out a see through mesh dress and a large dildo. Knowing what would happen after Fiona's shower, I then quietly left the house.

I half expected to hear Fiona groaning when I returned a few minutes earlier than expected. Instead, she met me in that astounding mesh dress, perfectly made up with her hair stylishly combed. She handed me an open beer and said, "Let's get started." Whether or not it resulted from her session with the dildo, I will never know, but for the next couple of hours, my wife effortlessly posed for me, without a trace of inhibition. We progressed through several changes of clothes before she finally stripped away her favorite silk peignoir and eagerly displayed her completely nude body for my camera. The pictures are devastatingly beautiful. Not explicit. Not raw. Just lovely and incredibly sexy.

Twenty years later, I still marvel at those photos. They remain the treasure of a lifetime because we have never done it again. I never pushed the point because I was never certain of recapturing that perfect few hours. But I stray again from my story.

Inspired by the tenderness of our session and rocked by the intense physicality of the aftermath, I wanted to do something extra for Fiona with a final edit of her warm up tape. Working with images was harder back then with none of the current high speed rendering and edits.

I tried as hard as possible to be discreet and to work on the project when Fiona was not around, but inevitably, she would walk into my study, while the editing project was on a computer screen. My furtive laptop closing and screen dumps provoked the inevitable reaction and convinced Fiona that I was secretly watching porn. I can still hear the hurt in her voice, still feel my frustration and embarrassment. Despite our otherwise frank and open relationship, I could never bring myself to explain what I was really doing those nights. It remains a sore spot in our history.

What I was doing however was making Fiona the star of an erotic video that I have never had the nerve to show her.

The film is much more than her grinding away on a phallus. I am in it as well, displaying myself for her, letting her know how she affects me. The beautiful nude stills are there too, cycling through the cross cut video while a lusty rock anthem throbs in the background.

In the end, Fiona comes savagely, perched on the end of that dildo, and I spill myself, that footage superimposed over her writhing image.

She has never seen it and has never known the truth of my embarrassment when she unexpectedly walked into the study.

I keep the disc carefully stored away. I still watch now and then, trying yet to imagine a way to share it with her two decades later.

Maybe that's a reason for this story. If Fiona finally knows truth, perhaps she will ask to see it and understand our uncomfortable moment so long ago.

And after we share it, we'll have fun cutting the disc up into memories. Or maybe not, if she likes it.