Found Footage SeXStoRY

...The black screen gives way to an unsteady shot of a hallway. From a doorway up ahead comes the faint sound of music. The camera moves towards the door and into a high ceilinged sitting room, then settles on the figure of a woman standing by a bookcase in the corner. She turns and smiles. -How long have you been standing there? -Not long. She sways to the mantelpiece and picks up a half full glass of white wine. Her eyes are mischievous above its rim as she brings it to her lips. The afternoon sun, streaming through a bay window to the right of her, lightens her short brown hair to a dirty blonde and softens her face, making her appear younger than her forty-five years. The scene changes. Now she is sitting, legs crossed, on the sofa in the centre of the room. The camera zooms in on her face, lingering as her slight smile fades. Her skin is ochre tainted, shining, taut over blade-like cheekbones. She is no classic beauty but if she was, her features wouldn’t have been so utterly mesmerising. -What are you looking at? -A woman. A woman’s beautiful face. -You’re full of shit. -You asked. A thick male finger appears in the frame, its tip alighting on the edge of her chin. It disappears for an instant and re-emerges, glistening with wine from the glass it has just been dipped in. She sighs as it touches her lips and her mouth opens, her eyes gazing up while her tongue curls about its surface. Another finger appears and this too is caressed before being taken, along with its fellow, between her wet lips and into her mouth. Her cheeks hollow. Her eyes are demonic. A steady heavy breathing, audible in the background, modulates into a low moan of approval. -Open your blouse. Crimson tipped fingers slowly undo the buttons. The man’s hand intrudes once more, pushing aside the undone red fabric. Her bra is black, sheer, its straps scoring deeply her mottled shoulders. She takes a breast in either hand and pushes them upwards, freeing them from the material that constrains them. Wine damp fingertips touch the brown disc of a nipple, drawing a gasp from her lips. -Tell me what you want. -I want you to love me. She slides to her knees, looking upwards. The camera tilts downwards, revealing her hands splayed over a man’s distended, denim-clad crotch. Her lips leave a wet stain at the crest of the bulge, then curl into a smile as she lowers his fly and undoes the button of his jeans. She pulls down his boxers, unable to restrain a purr of satisfaction as his fat, gnarled cock is released from its confines. His uttering of her name is almost plaintive. Her eyes narrow as her lips surround his puce glans, her fingers, meanwhile, gently palpating the tight, shaved flesh of his scrotum. His cock emerges from her mouth, rivulets of saliva trickling down its side. Breathing hard, she takes him in again, her mouth practised, adoring, the tip of a stray finger hovering about the cusp of his anus. -Let me see you. She gets to her feet and turns her back, stooping as she undoes her black slacks and slowly eases them from her body. The glance from over her shoulder is fixed and grave. She slips a hand down her side to the waistband of a thong stretched tightly across her hips. The camera approaches. She bends her upper body, leaving the screen dominated by her huge buttocks, its creases made smooth by the posture she has assumed. The still wet head of his cock, now impelled, it seems, by a new and violent urgency, comes into view as he pulls up the midsection of her thong, exposing her anus, biting up between her fringed cunt lips. She kneels down, laying her head on the sofa and elevating her ass. A hand appears between her thighs, pushing herself open to facilitate his entry and she lets it linger there, massaging the underside of his cock as it begins to probe the pink clinging lips of her splayed labia. -Your pussy is like a girl’s…you feel like a virgin…fuck me… -Call me Maura… The sound of his wife’s name seems to infuriate him. Grimacing, he hooks a pair of fingers in the corner of her mouth and hauls her head back towards him. Her eyes gaze back at him, huge with feigned terror, twinkling with mockery. Yet there is nothing of levity about the sharp cry that escapes her when, his penis having slipped momentarily from her, he re-inserts himself with vigour and a triumphant groan of affirmation. The same groan is uttered repeatedly, alternating with her seemingly anguished exclaiming as the camera focuses on his relentlessly thrusting cock. Her hips respond to the onslaught, bucking with powerful grace in sync with the action of his. Though he may assert that she feels like a girl, she evidently does not fuck like one. The camera lens strays to her enraptured face, her forehead now moistening, jewels of sunlight glittering in her eyes and on her parted lips. His hand makes an attempt to caress her cheek but she tilts back her head, leaving his outstretched fingers clutching at air. He extracts his beslimed cock, made obscenely huge-looking by the angle at which the camera is held and uses it as a rod upon her insolent ass. This is merely to foreshadow the stinging slap, its sound breaking the silence like a gunshot, that he visits upon her right buttock. The unadorned v******e of the act gives birth to a tension that had previously been absent. This is not the contrived outrage of commercial pornography. This is the evolution of a genuine passion which, too, has its dark places. When he seizes her shoulder and pulls her around to face him there is a pause as she listens to him mutter something that remains inaudible. She eyes him with apparent hostility, retreating towards the sofa. Its brown leather protests as she hoists her body onto it and reclines, opening her thighs. The damp flesh of her breasts undulates, both nipples visibly hardening. He approaches and places a hand on her chin, its thumb seeking out her mouth. His sigh indicates that he is inside her once more but the camera remains focused on her mouth – the pleasure-fattened, smudged lips slathering his touch, the smeared profanities they attempt to utter somehow a more obscene spectacle than the penetration occurring close by. Her muffled breath seems to ooze through the slits in his fingers. He speaks to her in tongues, his tone of urgent inquisitiveness reflecting his new authority. Quisling-like, she becomes her usurper’s whore… The screen returns to black...