The bucking broncos nightshirt Cindy had gotten Bill as a Christmas gag gift had ridden up, and while Bill did his morning sit-ups and tummy crunches on the living room rug, his cock and balls swayed and wobbled so cute and cuddly. From the kitchen Cindy watched, intrigued. If he were erect, she wondered, could he suck himself? Had he ever tried? Had he ever tasted himself? Sure, they’d kissed after she’d taken his seed in her mouth, and he didn’t seem to mind, but it was always after she’d swallowed, or let the excess drool out.

Cindy sashayed into the living room.

“Forty-two, forty-three,” Bill said.

“Howdy, cowpoke. Want to join me in some juice?”

Bill stared at her breasts through her gauzy nightgown. “Fresh squeezed?” Lurch by lurch his penis lifted.

Watching it rise made Cindy wonder what she’d look like riding him.

“Just a sec,” she said. “Hold that thought.”

She hustled to the bedroom closet, hauled out the video camera, set it on the living room rug, and pressed the button.

It felt so naughty—filming it. She wondered if the camera was catching her excitement. “Oh, yes! Fuck my little fuckhole,” she said moments before orgasm overwhelmed her.

Afterwards, cuddled together on the couch, they watched. God, she looked hot—her bottom bouncing, her asshole quivering, her cunt clenching Bill’s rugged cock. This is what she looked like. This is what someone would see.

“This is making me so hot,” she said to Bill. “Can we do it again?”

“Right now?” Bill asked.

“Sure,” Cindy said. “But first call your brother. See if he can come over to work the zoom.”