Chapter 6: The First Custom Video

The next afternoon arrived wrapped in the same heavy, electric hush that had settled over her house since the modeling session. I crossed the street with my heart drumming a steady, possessive beat, the small tripod tucked under one arm and my phone already loaded with the script I’d typed out the night before—filthy, precise lines that would force her to shatter every last piece of her good-Christian-mom facade on camera. My cock was already half-hard from the walk alone, pressing insistently against my zipper like it remembered the way her soaked panties had felt in my pocket yesterday.

Rachel answered before I could knock. She wore the white terrycloth robe again, belt cinched so tight her knuckles showed white. Her eyes were downcast, cheeks carrying that same guilty rose from the day before, but this time there was something new underneath it—a nervous flutter in her breathing that made the robe rise and fall over the generous swell of her chest. She stepped back without speaking, letting me into the dim living room. Blinds were drawn tighter than yesterday, turning the space into a sealed box of warm lamplight and vanilla-scented air.

I set the tripod on the coffee table, angled her phone toward the couch, and hit record after a quick test. The red light blinked once, steady and unforgiving. “Sit,” I told her, voice low. “Exactly where you are. Robe off first. Then the red satin pair from yesterday.”

She hesitated only a second, fingers working the belt loose. The robe fell open and slid down her arms, pooling at her feet in a soft heap. There she stood again—bare, vulnerable, every curve on full display under the camera’s gaze. Her breasts hung full and ripe, the pale undersides catching the light, nipples already drawn tight into sensitive buds. Her belly curved gently, soft and inviting, leading to the flare of her hips and the plush press of her legs together. Between them, the narrow landing strip of dark hair pointed down to lips that were already glistening faintly, betraying her before she’d even begun.

She stepped into the red satin panties I’d chosen, sliding them up those smooth legs until the shiny fabric hugged her mound. The crotch settled into place, immediately darkening where it met her heat. She sank onto the couch, knees together, hands clasped in her lap like she was waiting for Sunday school.

I sat across from her in the armchair, legs spread wide, and pulled my cock free. It sprang out thick and flushed, already leaking a clear bead at the tip. Her eyes flicked to it, widened, then darted away.