The Cameraman

by Small Penis


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This story contains adult sexual content and should not be read by those under 18, or considered minors in their country or locale. If you are under 18: CLICK HERE

This fictional story is the artistic expression of the author who wrote it. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this story, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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by twiddershins

Subject 1:

Grace/ Age: 28/ Cup: 32C/ Hair: Dyed black

Subject 2:

Dave/ Age: 23/ Penis: 9″/ Hair: Dyed blond

Location: A rented business office in California

It started way before I told her I wanted out. I wasn’t even supposed to be her camera guy for the first shoot, but… it just sort of happened. She set up every gig herself. She was insatiable, and always getting laid. I’d been shooting videos of Grace fucking male models (who knows where she meets all these guys?) every Saturday for the past year. She had on a suit and tie with a business skirt that hugged her curves tightly. She idly filed her designer-painted nails at her desk, awaiting her next stud. Constant hotness, power, and control (especially over me) bored her, actually. That boredom made her seem irresistible to me in a special way… but I had to resist!

“I want out,” I told her. I felt like a dork standing before her, unshaven and in my t-shirt and shorts while she had on her suit, make-up, and all, a real businesswoman.

“Aww, why?” she asked. “Don’t make me get a new camera guy. Do you know how much I’d have to pay for one? Besides, you need me.”

Grace had her arms crossed just underneath her breasts, and was subtly pushing them up and together. My eyes fell into her canyon. Blood reflexively rushed to my cheeks.

“You know it’s true, and you love it,” she rubbed it in. She followed with an all-too-knowing smirk of the eyebrow, and of her pink-painted lips. “I know you love it.”

She was referring, of course, to the first couple times when I proved I could control myself enough behind the camera to not touch myself through my pants, but not enough to hold my load in them. I was always proud, at least, that that didn’t stop a film from being made. I always kept shooting. But after about the fifth time (well, maybe the sixth), it stopped being so exciting.

Someone knocked at the door.

“That must be Dave,” she said. She grabbed my hand. “Look, I need you for this shoot, okay, honey? Just this one and we’ll talk about getting someone new.”

“Okay.”

There was another knock.

“Coming!” Grace yelled. “Keep your pants on, god damn.”

She opened the door and let in the model I’d only heard about. Dave was broad shouldered, and at least a full foot taller than me. He wore a shirt, tie, and suit pants, but no suit coat. Through the thin material of his expensive shirt, his pecs were plainly chiseled; he obviously worked out. His hair was dyed like a surfer, but cut short– I wondered if he cut it for the “businessman” role in the shoot. He was younger than Grace and I, for sure. I doubted he or anyone could be more worldly than the woman who set up her own random fuck meetings for a living.

Grace closed the door. “Great,” she continued, and she gave him a kiss. “Now take ’em off.”

Dave unbuttoned, unzipped, and had his pants on the floor in what might have been less than a second. It was hard to tell. Hard to tell because he was hard, and his giant bulge in his boxer shorts demanded every eye in the room– real and synthetic.

I kneeled down with the camera, his dick square in the frame. I thought I knew how this one would start.

“But damn!” Dave shouted. “Sees a big one and he goes down almost as fast as Nanci Nasty.” (No one goes down as fast as Nanci Nasty)

Grace rolled her eyes at me. “Get up, doofus. You’ve had the script a whole week and you couldn’t stop jacking off for long enough to even open it? Go read it– NOW,” she demanded. Then she reached down, gripped the model man’s thick, rigid member in both hands, and breathed, “Dave and I will just… rehearse…”

Their bodies pressed together, and in that mutual heat their tongues reached out and touched, tackled each other, wrestled greedily. They pulled each other in closer, his hands firmly sunk into her ass flesh, her rubbing his meaty rod up against her. But I couldn’t watch anymore because I had to read the script.

Their lusty moaning and wet make-out noises distracted me while I read, but I stuck my eyes to the page. Starting on the chair… (“Mmm,” Grace moaned; Dave hissed air through his teeth) something about stocks “on the rise”… (*spank!*) then Grace is supposed to say “And you look like you’re rising,” pan down… (the ruffle of clothing, more undressing) hold focus as she hits her knees and starts… (a rip– I could hear every bit of it– the tiny sound of a button hitting to the floor, heavy breathing)…

A sort of gasp came out of Grace, and Dave said meanly, “Bitch.” I startled and finally looked back at them.

He was holding her face by the cheeks with one hand, squishing her mouth together. He didn’t look angry-mad, so much as mad with sexual hunger. Her coat was pulled down her shoulders and her top ripped open, exposing a tight valley of cleavage in her push-up bra. Her hands were still locked onto his now naked cock, fist-over-fist, only she looked vaguely frightened.

The model shoved her backwards. She fell into the chair. He was already pulling off his tie.

“Hey–” I shouted, ready to step up and probably get my ass beaten in her defense.

Except then she was already lifting her legs in the air and peeling her panties out from under her skirt. She yelled at me, desperately, “Start filming!”

I fumbled at the camera and turned it on, too.

Grace’s thong caught on her heels. Dave shoved her legs aside, grabbed her jet black hair, and thrust his cock into her face. She opened wide and took it down as deep as she could– and that meant all the way down. He held her there, her nose stuck in his musky pubic hair, and finally Grace bobbed her head slowly back up, leaving a trail of drenching saliva along every inch of Dave’s throbbing shaft. The thick head of his cock escaped her oral confines with a loud SHLPOP! I kept the camera focused on his dick, but…

Fixated on Dave’s massive cock, I finally lost it. I pulled my shorts down with one hand just enough and started whacking off. She was squeezing, massaging, stroking him up and down with two hands… mine barely peeked out past my hand (which is lucky, since I needed the other for the camera). And I knew Dave and Grace both had bigger hands than I did.

“Shit!” Grace shouted in surprise. Her eyes had darted at me for just a second. She started to laugh, but stayed professional and kept licking at the giant lollipop of cock in her double-fisted grip. She made a comment to Dave (probably assuming I would just edit it out), still pumping at his hard manhood. “Look at how little he is compared to this real cock. This… (she reaffirmed her grip on it with obvious relish, tightly, slowly) this is a real man’s cock. That? It’s like my thumb! It can’t satisfy me like yours, deep inside me. Not that tiny cock…” SHLPOP.

When she said tiny, Grace meant it. I’d been working with her for over a year and she was a professional in front of the camera– a pro that I’d watched take thick meatsticks bigger than 6 inches (and there’s no way I’d EVER even get to 6″) as a norm in any of her holes. She would probably even call 6 small, 7 just “adequate.” So of course she was laughing on the inside, even if she’d stopped herself outwardly. My little stiffy was a joke to her.

Something, though, about being so bluntly needed, so masterful really riled Dave. Clenching black hair, he took Grace’s mouth balls deep again. “You need this in your pussy?”

“Mmm hmmgh,” Grace answered as best she could with his dick deep down her throat.

The model’s tie and shirt finally fell to the floor, revealing his rock hard chest, six pack abs, and muscled arms. Dave tore Grace’s face off his cock and lifted her out of the chair by her hair. Without a word, he shoved her against the desk with her ass sticking out, and he lifted her skirt over that big, round butt. I had to scramble to get around to the other side so that the camera could see him slapping his dick against her wet vagina with one hand, holding her fast against the furniture with the other.

“Is this what you want?” Dave teased her. He started grinding his hips back and forth, not yet penetrating, but rubbing his length against her clit.

“More…” she pleaded, hips bucking.

“Beg for it.”

“Shove that big cock in my hot pussy! Nnnnggh… please!”

He leaned forward over her body, spoke into her ear while he continued his playfully cruel pelvic thrusts, starting to match them up with hers. “Get your tits out.”

And she hurriedly complied, pulling down the cups of her bra to expose her hardening nipples. I was going to protest that this wasn’t fair for a shot because it meant I’d have to get to the other side again when Dave reached around, grabbed one of her tits in each hand so he could tweak the nipples, and impaled her sloppy hole with his giant member.

“Oh, oh, oww, fuuuck!” Grace shouted. She was already sweating. None of it stopped Dave’s ramming onslaught, though, and soon she was humping back on him just as eagerly in rhythm, taking him deep into her vulnerable inner self.

I went around to the front of the desk to capture her reaction, but I was a little late. The two had fallen into a perfect, mindless pace of fucking, their bodies lurching and smacking together with the regularity of a pleasure machine just before it hits overdrive. She braced herself on the table with both hands, arching her back as much as possible to hump some secret pleasure spot in the deepest part of her. She gasped and snorted and moaned with pleasure.

“Look at this horny, fucking nymph,” Dave responded. He grabbed her hair again and spanked her hard. “You need two cocks, baby?”

Without even a word, one of her hands shot up from its grip on the desk edge and encompassed the entirety my puny member like a vice. I was so surprised, I came! Looking down, it seemed as though spasms of cum were shooting out from the top of her hand. But only my eyes looked down, the camera was still watching them fuck. I fought the feeling of weakness and embarrassment as my balls emptied, and I forced all of my concentration into just holding the camera steady.

They burst into a short laugh, which they stifled. The kind that are easy to edit out– you’ve seen a blooper reel.

“Are you ready?”

I’m not sure if either of us had any idea what Dave meant when he asked it, but Grace slapped her palms down on the edge of the desk again and shouted, “Fucking do it to me!”

So I gave a step back to get a wider angle for whatever was about to happen. The male model let go of Grace’s hair and stopped pistoning his meat into her to pick her up by the legs, position her dripping female organ over his titanic, north-pointing pole, and lower her down onto just its engorged head.

Grace screamed and writhed on it in pleasure, and her scream turned into “OOHHHHHHH– FUUUH-UUCK!” when he slammed her fully down upon his length.

I stared, drooling and dumbfounded. The camera was dumbfounded. My wee wee twitched, stirred again (and so quickly!) back to arousal.

Looking up from her sex-induced, cock-greedy daze and spying my returned rigidity, one of the pornstar’s hands, with her designer-painted fingernails, reached out for my cock again. She reached out and brushed her pointing finger alongside it– and they were the same size! I stepped forward again, thinking she was groping to give me another handjob, even just a thumbjob between her two fingers. Anything!

But when I did, she reached her hand under me, past my taint, and stuck her finger up my butthole, pistoning in and out fast.

“Nng, ah!” The camera dropped for a second. This was too much. Grace was fucking airborne, sweating off her supposedly stay-forever makeup, supported by her elbows on the desk and a huge rod stuffed in her vagina. Her finger found my prostate and pressed for all it was worth.

Releasing a built-up roar that echoed throughout the building (and who knows what real business anyone else was doing in the other rented offices), we all three shared a great orgasm and slowly chugged to a stop like a train come into station. All three of us breathed heavily. Grace’s expression had gone slack with euphoria and I trembled with glee even as her finger fell out of my butt.

After a minute, Dave said, “Shit. I always have to piss after sex. Where is the bathroom?”

“Down the hall,” Grace droned, absently waving her arm at the door. “On the right.”

With a grunt, he got back into his shirt and pants and left.

She had barely recovered from her panting when Grace asked me, “Still want out, babydick?”

“No,” I said. I didn’t even have to think about it. We kissed. “No, how could I? I love you, honey.”

She pulled her thong back up into her ass crack, her legs still rubbery from the rush of a wild fucking, and she kissed me again with those hot, pink lips. “I love you, too, little guy.”

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