Chloe Lau
This is a continuation of the Jocelyn Reynolds story contained in 'Submissive to Dominant' but it can be read independently.
1. The Video
Curled on the sofa with her feet underneath her butt, Chloe Lau ate popcorn while watching a video of herself and Vijay on the 70-inch flat-screen TV in the living room of her condo. It was although she was seeing another woman have sex, not her. A different Chloe Lau fucking the brains out of a man who didn't know he was being filmed.
They were rolling around on the bed. Constant movement, fondling, arousing, and exciting different parts of their bodies. Sensual stimulation that became more passionate and intense.
Vijay was a big man. Twice her size in width. Solid. Muscular. Brown skinned. With an oversized cock.
She was a slim, petite twenty-six-year-old just over a meter in a half in height with small hands and feet that matched her small breasts. Gifts of Asian ancestry she had small brown eyes, large lips, a flat nose, and high cheek bones. Her jet-black hair contrasted with her smooth ivory skin.
He repeatedly said that she was drop-dead gorgeous although she only heard it in her mind. She'd muted the video's sound.
In honour of Valentine's Day, her very short heart-shaped black pubic hair was dyed a bright seductive cherry red. The shade of passion. Vijay seemed to like the colour because his head was in her crotch for five uninterrupted minutes while she sucked on his cock.
She recalled struggling to get his mammoth member into her small mouth and then having to control the gag reflex as it surged down her throat like a python descending a tree.
They altered positions. He lay on his back, and she slipped a condom down his long shaft. Spreading her pussy cheeks wide, she engulfed his pulsating cock into her cunt in a fluid motion. Then they began to pump in earnest.
She remembered the sensation of him inside her, but with no sound all she could see was the expression on the woman's face in the video. Ecstasy.
He raised his head and nibbled on her erect nipples. She threw her head back and silently screamed in sexual joy. As they fucked with increased energy beads of perspiration appeared on their oversized bodies on the TV panel.
They kissed passionately. Her breasts squished into his hairy chest. His fingernails dug into her butt cheeks.
Even though she knew what to expect, she loved the look of surprise on the woman's face when he suddenly flipped her onto her back while keeping his cock solidly inside her cunt.
They continued to fuck like routing animals with all the energy of a tornado.
Watching herself become aroused, plateau, and then peek in a mind-blowing orgasm almost made Chloe come while sitting alone on the sofa. She couldn't explain why she derived more erotic pleasure from being a voyeur than being the fuckie.
The video ended when he shot his load and slid off her glistening body. The final frame was the two of them panting on the bed staring at the ceiling.
The big screen TV went blank.
For the last two and half years she's been surreptitiously filming her boyfriends. This was the fourth time in the last six months that she'd watched this specific lovemaking session. The videos appeared in random order.
Her phone sounded. She looked at the display and buzzed open the front door to her condo building.
She turned off the video, arose from the sofa, and straightened her form-fitting bodycon mini dress. Stepping into her heels she entered the bathroom, ran a brush through her shoulder length black hair, and applied some lipstick. The doorbell chimed.
She opened the door and greeted Jamal with a kiss.
He was an uber wealthy divorced forty-two-year-old corporate lawyer. His handcrafted bespoke suit was the colour of the night sky in mid-evening. His tailored shirt as crisp as fresh fallen snow.
Brandie, Chole's twenty-five-year-old bff from yoga, said her goal was to be a trophy wife. "Country clubs, summer homes, travel, jewelry, tons of money in return for letting an old man screw me."
Should that be Chole's new ambition? Jamal spent more on a pair of handmade shoes than she spent in a year on groceries.
Their first date had been dinner at a Michelin starred restaurant followed by no sex. This was their second date, and she envisioned themselves fucking like minks later this evening.
"Do we have time for a drink," she asked.
"A short one," he said looking at his expensive gold watch. "The symphony begins at seven-thirty."
He surveyed her open-concept condo while she poured the drinks.
"With a screen that large you must really like TV," he said.
"I prefer videos."
She handed him a Laphroaig single malt. She knew he'd want good Scotch. She had a Quail's Gate chardonnay. They clinked glass and sipped their beverages.
He looked though the glass door to the balcony.
"Quite the telescope," he said.
"It has a 4.5-inch aperture and fast f/4 focal ratio," she said. "It captures distant celestial objects in bright, crisp, and clear images."
Jamal gave a short laugh.
"What?" she asked.
"It's probably something a voyeur would love if it's powerful enough to see into the bedrooms of your neighbours."
"What to try?"
"Just joking. I'm not into that. Are you?"
"It might give me ideas of things to do," she said with a smile.
They finished their drinks and left for the symphony.
2. At Symphony Hall
They were seated in a box in Symphony Hall compliments of an appreciative client of Jamal. The other two patrons in the box were strangers. Each box was separated by a meter high partition.
Beside her, in the adjacent box, were a good-looking couple probably the same age as Chloe. The man was in a tuxedo. The brown-haired woman wore a cream-coloured silk blouse and a killer skirt with a slit to her thigh. She couldn't see the other people in the box nor those in the box to her right.
Seated, her mini dress barely covered her crotch, revealing her long shapely legs.
They held hands throughout the performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. During San Sans third symphony he rested his hand on her knee. She marvelled at the contrast of their skin colours. An eight ball alongside the cue ball.
After intermission the orchestra began the first movement of Holtz's The Planets.
The pinky finger of his left hand began to explore the lace trim of her thong underwear. She responded by massaging the inner thigh of his left leg. She was becoming horny.
Oh yah, she thought. There'll be hot sex tonight.
There was movement to her left in the adjacent box. To her amazement the brown-haired woman was on her knees unzipping the trousers of the tuxedoed man. The woman's blouse was undone with her nipples exposed. A demi bra supported her large (in comparison to Chloe's) breasts. The woman licked, sucked, and then deep throated tuxedo's large cock.
They were totally silent not interfering with the music of Holtz's symphony.
Chloe removed her hand from Jamel's thigh and looked about. The lights were dimmed. Everyone appeared focused on the musicians other than the couple to her left and Jamel whose baby finger was searching for her pubic hair.
This was a dream come true. Viewing sexual activity without the aid of a telescope. Up close and personal. And in a public space.
She was sexual aroused observing the other woman's activities of licking, stroking, fondling, and then engulfing the man's dick into her mouth. Although she wasn't a connoisseur of BJs, the brown-haired woman's technique must be quite good because the man grinned like a Cheshire cat.
With his cock still in her mouth brown-haired glanced at Chloe who smiled encouragement as the woman continued deep throating the man.
Chloe removed the eyeliner brush from her purse and wrote her cell number and Text Me on a piece of paper that she tore from the concert's program.
Even though they were quiet Chole could tell when he exploded in her mouth. A dribble of sperm oozed out that the woman quickly licked up.
This was so thrilling that Chloe almost orgasmed. Not by Jamel finger, but watching this woman give head.
When the woman finished, she rolled back onto her haunches and looked at the man who beamed contentment. Then she eyed Chloe who smiled admiration and dropped her piece of paper within reach of the woman.
Chloe looked about. No one else seemed to have noticed the blowjob.
Jamel, concentrating on the musicians, didn't seemed to realize that Chloe's grin had nothing to do with his finger.
3. In Chloe's Bed
Lying naked on her king-sized bed she scrutinized Jamel disrobe. It was a myth, she thought about the size of black men's cocks. Nevertheless, for a middle-aged guy he was in great physical shape. Hopefully he'd look good in the video.
There was no foreplay. Jamel slipped on a condom, climbed onto the bed, shoved his cock into Chloe's pussy, and proceeded to hump her.
Lying flat on top of her with his chin on her shoulder and his face in the pillow all she heard was the occasional grunt.
"Oooh. You're so good," she cooed.
"I prefer silence," he demanded as he pounded her in a mechanical fashion.
What the fuck? Am I simply a cum receptacle for him?
"Ah ..."
"Quiet."
Trapped under his body she resigned herself to being subjugated. Mute and obedient. Fucked but not heard.
He came. She didn't.
Afterwards, he rolled off her and indicated that she should remove the condom from his cock.
She flushed it down the toilet.
"I need to be cleaned," he said.
She returned from the bathroom with a damp cloth.
"Do it with your tongue."
She strategically positioned herself so that the hidden camera filmed her performance.
Twenty minutes later, he rolled on top of her again. She suggested cowgirl style.
"No. I'm always on top," he said.
She was ready to cry. He had no regard for her needs and feelings. It was all about him. She was simply his fuck toy.
After a half hour rest, he did her a third time, once more missionary style.
Her only comfort was that she had a video.
Then they slept.
At six the alarm on his watch sounded.
