Sex Sessions: After The Cut (Camera Tales #2) Read online

  When the feelings start to fade and the world as I know it to be comes back into focus, I open my eyes. Saxton has sweat beads on his forehead, his chest glistening from the moisture and heaving up and down rapidly. "Are you hot?"

  "Between wondering if you were going to break my dick off and trying to keep from coming until I knew you were, I'm exhausted. There was a time or two I didn't think I'd make it till the end, but as always you timed it perfectly, because I couldn't hold out any longer. That was fucking hot. I love you. Dammit, I love you with all of my heart."

  "I love you too, Sax," I say, as I press my forehead to his. "Always and forever."

  "Till death do us part…"

  "And even then."

  Pounding on the bedroom door causes me to jump. "What?" Saxton calls out as if it's not embarrassing at all, doing this in someone else's apartment.

  "I can't deal with this shit anymore, Saxton. You two are hornballs to be in porn. I need some ass."

  "Not what I want to know, Tynleigh."

  "Shut up, you little prick! I have clothes scattered from door to door in my apartment and what I just listened to you deserve to hear a lot worse. It's been months, and I may possibly be a bitch if I don't get some or you two put a lock on it until you get back home."

  "Probably not going to happen."

  I smack him and try to get up, but he holds me to him. "What? Do you want me to lie?"

  "What I thought, so we're going out tonight. I did an article involving this hit nightclub, basically giving them free promo, so the owner owes me. I'll get Kambry in. Be ready to walk out this door at nine sharp. Cab will be here."

  "Fine. We're taking a nap then."

  "I don't care what you do as long as you're ready on time."

  "Someone is bitchy today."

  "Can you blame her? We did just have sex in her apartment. That's kind of rude," I say.

  "She's family. She'll get over it. I had to do plenty of shit for her growing up." He releases me, letting me up. An awkward expression appears on my face. I can feel it. One look and he knows. He always knows everything. It's like playing a hand of poker against the one who invented the game. I have no chance in hell. "Need me to remove that for you? Or do you want to try it out for an extended period?" The sarcasm in his tone accompanying a large smirk makes me want to shove something up his ass . . .

  "If you ever want to use it again I would say yes. There is no way in hell I'm wearing this outside of this apartment."

  I turn and walk toward the bathroom across the room, not looking back. I don't need to with the clomping sounds against the floor as I place my hands on the sink palms down, bending forward.

  I look in the mirror when I feel him behind me, his fingers grazing my ass. "Ready to omit all feelings of awkwardness?"

  "Rip it off like a Band-Aid."

  "At least you know when we're old and gray I can take shit like a champ."

  A look of horror graces my face. He laughs, confirming he knows I got his double-edged sword of a joke. "I'm just shitting with you, baby, kind of."

  "Would you stop with the shit jokes right now? Fuck. Baby steps. This is equivalent to accidentally farting in front of a guy you've been crushing on forever. I'm mortified of this entire situation now that I'm mentally aware of what we're dealing with. If I knew how to take it out myself I would just to avoid this."

  "Girls really fart?"

  I can feel all of the color slowly drain from my face. A tear of embarrassment slips from my eye and trails down my cheek. His laugh evolves over time, as if he's trying his damnedest to hold it in and failed. "Fuck, baby, I'm sorry. Seriously, I'm joking. You know nothing you do could ever turn me off, right? I know what you're thinking and I shouldn't have brought it up till after, but even if it did, I would never look at you any different, especially over something that I wanted to do. I'm completely aware of how all of that works back there. You're perfect to me."

  He grabs me by the throat from behind and holds my face steady and straight. We stare at each other in the mirror as he removes the plug from my ass. Me—I'm just hoping and praying that damn plug comes out as clean as when it went in. This will definitely go down in the memory book as one of the most embarrassing couple moments. It's a good thing I've already hooked him for life, because this . . . is not sexy.

  Saxton

  I place my hands laced behind my head, staring at the ceiling, thinking. I'm fucking engaged. I'm getting married. I'm going to have a wife in possibly a few days. Holy shit. How the hell do things change so drastically over the course of hours? I got the girl. The girl. The girl of my dreams and then some. Am I prepared to get married and give her everything she deserves?

  I won't lie. I don't feel like a deserving man when it comes to her. I'm always going to feel like I come up short because of what she's given me that I can't give her back. Never could. She gave me something that she can never give someone else, even if things hadn't turned out the way they did. She gave me her first, a part of herself. She's never been wild or careless with her heart or her body. What's more . . . is she loves me despite the fact that I've been all of those things. The proof is as simple as purchasing it off the Internet or the shelf of an adult store. Those decisions, those mistakes, those regrets—that part of my past can never be erased like a normal person's can.

  That's exactly what they are to me now; for the first time since I became what I am. Now that I've found the person I actually want a forever with, I wish I could erase some of the stupid decisions I made over a girl that didn't deserve it. There's another part of me, though, that is glad I did it, because for one, even though I believe that every person walks into your life for a reason, I'm not sure I would have met her given any other situation. Secondly, I know for sure now that I'll never wake up wanting something outside of my own backyard. I'm absolutely sure that the grass isn't greener in another pasture. I've been there, I've done it, and I've fucked them all. I somehow struck gold with her, and I'll spend every day of my life putting in overtime to ensure that she knows it.

  The door to the bathroom opens. I tilt my head to catch her as she walks out, wearing my shirt. "That looks good on you."

  "It was the only thing in there."

  "I like seeing you in my shirt, but you know that. You can wear them whenever you want."

  I turn on my side and get under the covers as she pulls the edge back to climb in. Before she has a chance to settle, I pull her closer to me. "Hand me my cell, will you? I put it on the nightstand waiting on you."

  She follows instructions. I pull up the newly recorded video and watch it play through. She snuggles against me when she hears the sound, her eyes glued to the screen with her head on my chest. I smile, trying not to draw attention that I know she's engrossed in our little oral session earlier. I can feel her swallow against me. I force myself to keep my eyes on the screen so I know where to clip it when she begins rubbing her fingers through my happy trail. It's a hypnotic feeling, and she dips her fingers beneath the waistband of my briefs just enough to tease me, before starting the process over again.

  When I find the perfect spot I clip it down to make it short, then open the Tumblr app, handing her the phone. "I created the account, but I didn't personalize it. Do that how you want to while we're together and then later I'll add the app to your phone and log you in."

  "How does this work exactly? I don't really have any kind of online account."

  "It's kind of like your Facebook without all the bullshit restrictions or childish prudes reporting the stupidest shit ever. You can post whatever you want. It's just blogging, but with no rules. We can post dirty or clean. We can blog together or separate, because it'll post to the same account. It doesn't have to be one of the other. This is our couple blog. It's all about us. If people want to follow, then they can, but it's mostly for us."

  "I don't have a Facebook, but I think I get what you're saying."

  "You don't have a Facebook? Isn't it kind of unheard of for so
meone over the age of sixteen to not have a Facebook? I haven't had time to verify this for myself. We're always together, so I haven't had a reason to get on. Don't get me wrong, I don't really get on mine a lot anyway because I get some random shit on there, but I still have an account."

  "Parents." One word is all she says. It's all she really has to say to explain anything peculiar about herself. She's told me enough. It's no surprise anymore.

  "Should have known," I say flatly.

  She glances at the phone, familiarizing herself with what's on the screen. "Okay, so cover photo. What do you want it to be?"

  "Your tits."

  "Original."

  "You asked. I answered. I like your tits. That's original enough."

  She rolls her eyes—or at least that's what I envision her doing based on the silence occurring—and hands me the phone. I stand on my knees as she pulls up her shirt, baring them for me. Her nipples are semi hard, but not all the way. I bend over and suck each one in my mouth, making them fully erect, and then get the phone ready to take the photo. Once the still image is staring back at me, I lay back down beside her and show her the final product to ensure she approves, since after all, the page is both of ours and that would make me an asshole to just assume.

  She glances at it as she pulls her shirt back down. "Why do you like my boobs so much? There is nothing really spectacular about boobs."

  "Well, to be honest, no man is ever going to turn away a set of tits, because let's face it, tits are amazing, squeezable, suckable man-toys. That's just the way we were wired—visual stimulation and all—but with that said, some tits are sexier than others, and yours are aesthetically perfect in every way."

  A curious grin quickly becomes displayed on her face. "Just out of morbid curiosity, what would you do if we had a kid and they became a meal ticket in place of man fun-bags?"

  "Uh . . . I will share, not give up. We'll be under a mutual understanding. Meal times they're his or hers, but between, they're mine. End of story."

  She laughs. "Well, in that case, post away. I'll just take your word for it."

  I save it to the cover photo and hand it back to her. "What about Profile?"

  "You decide."

  She crawls over me into a straddle, and then starts grinding her middle along the length of my dick. One look at her tits and I'm already sporting a chub. A groan escapes. "What are you doing?"

  "Getting you hard."

  "Not that I'm complaining, but why? I thought we were in the middle of something."

  "We are."

  She slides herself down my legs, taking my underwear with her until they hit my thighs. "You want it again?"

  "No," she says, as she grabs it in her hand, slowly stroking up and down. Burn. She sets the phone on my chest. "You get the cover photo. I get the profile." She wiggles up my legs until her body is directly behind my cock as she holds it, her black, lace panties peeking through as the shirt sits at her hips. "Take the photo."

  "You want the world to see my cock?"

  "I want the world to see my cock," she retorts. "When a girl is proud of something she shows it off, and you've always had a beautiful dick to me, experience or not. It should be admired from time to time. It's still mine, forever, and I want the world to know every inch of it, and that it's off limits to anyone but me."

  I stare at her for a moment, completely surprised and shocked to hell and back. "You aren't jealous? Most girls would be jealous."

  "Well, I kind of was forced past that point with the filming porn thing, but as time went on I changed. I learned. Jealousy is something that cannot be controlled completely, but then it can. Yes, there are times that I get jealous, but it would be more in a situation when a girl is within touching distance. When you told me you went to Salem's I had a tinge of jealousy. Okay, a tinge might be putting it mildly. I was terrified."

  "I told you, I needed closure, for us. Nothing more. That I swear on my life."

  She continues stroking my cock, keeping me hard, and making it fucking difficult to concentrate even though I hear every damn word she says. "I know. The difference is that most girls are jealous over someone else even seeing the goods, I would imagine out of paranoia that what they have they could lose easily, but I know your heart. I can feel and sense how much you actually love me in comparison to what you tell me. I'm not paranoid at all. I know you would never cheat on me, because you know how that feels, and in return I would never do that to you. We're happy with what we have. It doesn't matter if someone else looks, because they'd never actually get it. We each guard what's close to our heart. That's just how much we love each other, so they can look all they want, because at the end of the day it's still mine to touch and have."

  We stare at each other. I'm a little baffled sometimes at the things that come from her mouth when I'm not expecting it. Without saying a word, I pick up my phone and position the camera, capturing the image she wants and saving it without even looking at it in a still image. I don't need to. Her reasons are good enough for me. The fact that she's so territorial over me is actually comforting. "What now?"

  "We finish what we started," she says, and gets off of me, pulling my boxer-briefs back into place. Not really the route I was thinking with that phrase, but if we fuck this entire trip we'll get nothing accomplished and she'll regret it.

  She settles under the covers and I turn on my side to face her, watching calmly as she scrolls through the page. My arm snakes over her abdomen and I pull her toward me so that I can see the screen. She's pressing the different buttons to see what they do, changing colors and fonts here and there. I enjoy this: lying here together with no rush to do anything or go anywhere. Companionship, that's one thing I love about our relationship. It comes naturally.

  In the edit section, she begins typing in the space for a bio or whatever a person wants there. I mold her body into mine, reading as she types.

  Just a fun-loving, adventurous, sex-crazed couple that decided to blog about anything and everything directly related to us. We love our lives and each other. Follow if you dare, but enter at your own risk. Things may get a little heated from time to time. Clothing optional, love required . . .

  She pauses. "What's it called if they share stuff? Isn't that a thing?"

  "For Tumblr . . . reblogging I think."

  . . . And reblogging welcome. XOXO, Sax and Kam <3

  Click to view their Tumblr.

  "I love you, Kambry."

  "I love you too, baby. Will you upload the video now? How does people see it?"

  I grab the phone from her and extend my arms, holding it out before us so we can both see it. "You sure you want to upload this? You can still change your mind."

  "I'm sure. This is who we are, Sax. I know it doesn't make sense, but I like this part of our relationship for now: maybe not forever, but right now. I want to experience getting to be wild and free, but I only want to do it with one person. You're my person."

  "Yes. I am and will always be your person. I just wanted to make sure." I rise up and kiss her cheek, before concentrating back on the screen. "Well, the biggest key to being seen is a public profile, which we are, and hash tags. It extends your reach to use common, everyday hash tags that are category appropriate. For example, we don't really want to hash tag a porn video on something unrelated to sex or mature content. If it doesn't already exist it will be created, and if it does the post will be added along with everyone else that has used it before. Once you use a hash tag, related posts will be recommended if they also use the same hash tags. There are also other ways users can browse. Think of it as finding your audience. Let me show you."

  I go through the steps to show her how to publish a post, starting with the pencil icon. Once the bubbles appear, speaking is not necessary since it's self-explanatory. I choose video and add the clip, saving it. "Here is the caption box where you can write anything you want. Like this . . . "

  #Sexting with my fiancé ends very well for me. #Tasty #pussy door si
de covered in cream. Never too early for dessert. #SexSessions #Afterthecut #SaxtonandKambry #NewYorkRendevous #Coupleblog #Iloveher #Fuckinghotgirl #IEatPussy #OralSessions #PornStarRomance #PornNeverEndsInLove #bigtits #mydickishard #SoTight #dontyouwishyouweremerightnow #sex is next. See you on the flip side. — Sax.

  Click here for link to post.

  I choose the publish option and wait. It's done. "No going back now, baby."

  "Sax?"

  "Having second thoughts?"

  "I changed my mind."

  "I can delete it."

  She grabs the phone before I can do anything and rolls over. "Not about that. I want it."

  A cheesy grin spreads as she pats my ego without trying. I roll over on top of her. "You want my dick," I tease.

  "That was by far hotter than any book I've read. You have a filthy mind and I love it. I think I'm going to like this blogging and hash tag thing. It gives me a rush."

  "I didn't know I was marrying an adrenaline junkie," I state.

  She slips her hands under the waistband of my underwear and pushes them over my ass, before grabbing it and pulling me into her center as she spreads her legs. "The high is too good to quit."

  "I thought we were supposed to be napping for tonight."

  "I'm good with a quickie. We still have a few hours before we have to get ready. We have plenty of time to nap.

  She pulls my dick out and aligns it correctly for entry. I lean in and kiss her as I push inside with ease. This is my life. This is where we're headed. We aren't a normal couple. We're an exceptional one. Do we have a lot of sex? Hell yeah. Most would probably think we shoot up with testosterone, but this is us. This is our couple therapy to each other. We each need it for two different reasons, yet still a complement. We don't have to make sense to everyone else. We're moving forward at the speed of a freight train, and I fucking welcome it.