Everyone Has A Past free porn video

It seemed a peculiarly old-fashioned way to go about things. These days you expect everything to be distributed digitally, hard copy a thing of the past, though the envelope was delivered in a modern enough way, by courier service, even if driving up in a big van early in the evening to deliver nothing more than an envelope seemed a bit ODD.

The sender was unknown to me. I took the envelope with me into the kitchen, where I’d been enjoying a mug of tea when the doorbell rang. I sat back down and opened the thing, finding an only slightly smaller brown envelope inside. Ripping it open I tipped the contents onto the table, and it was when I saw the photographs that I realised an ill wind was about to blow.

The faded colour suggested age; the hairstyles suggested mid-80’s. One woman featured in every photo, reddish blonde, permed and outrageously big hair, smiling in almost every picture. She looked very different now, but I had no trouble identifying her as my wife as she had been roughly 30 years earlier. I’d like to be able to say that it was possible to date the photos by the style of clothes, but in truth my wife was wearing very little.

There was a sheet of folded paper in the envelope too. I unfolded it, fingers trembling slightly, to read the anonymous computer print-out.

Everyone has a past. I don’t know how much you know about Tina’s past, but the photos speak for themselves. There’s plenty more where they came from. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to jeopardize your wife’s new career move, any more than she does. I’ll be in touch.

That was all, but it was enough. The threat was as thinly veiled as Tina’s young body in the photos.

I spread the pictures out on the kitchen table, until a large portion of it was covered by a total of 22 graphic sexual images; I counted them.

The actual content of the pictures didn’t bother me. Does that sound strange? Well, like the note said, everyone has a past. My wife was 49, I was 54. We’d been married nine years. I had a messy divorce behind me, and three kids who my ex-wife refused to let me see, though she was happy enough to collect the child maintenance payments. By now the two eldest had reached the age of majority, and we were engaged in renewed bridge-building, but that’s a different story entirely.

It stood to reason that a woman of 40 would have a past. That past, Tina had led me to believe, was extremely uneventful. Ever since her teens, she’d been determined to be a celebrated author. She’d taken a series of low paid, dead end jobs so that she could concentrate on her writing. Writing meant everything to her, and she’d never married. It’s often the way that we don’t get what we want until we’ve almost given up on it. When I met my wife, she was coming to terms with the idea that her dreams wouldn’t come true. Nevertheless, I encouraged her to keep writing, if only because it gave her pleasure, and suddenly the pieces fell into place. That’s why Tina wasn’t at home this particular evening; she was up in London for a series of meetings in advance of the publication of her second novel, one which all concerned believed would constitute a massive breakthrough. A huge publicity drive was being planned; TV, radio, the internet, magazine articles, the works.

Which was why this note and these photos were doubly unsettling. They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity. That may have been the case in the past, for rock-n-rollers, but in our own squeaky clean age, particularly for someone with serious literary ambitions, I wasn’t at all sure.

Now, spread out before me was evidence that my wife’s life hadn’t been as uneventful as she’d made out. Exactly what it constituted evidence of, I wasn’t sure; these were graphic images shorn of context, but all the same.

Before we proceed, I need to make one thing clear. I did not feel particularly shocked or betrayed by the idea that my wife had a different kind of past to the one she’d told me of. Age and experience have taught me that if the past isn’t exactly a different country, with some influence on the present, it’s nevertheless the present that counts. There were certainly things in my past I was happy to leave behind and not dwell on, or discuss with anyone, even the one person in the world who was dearest to me. So I could easily understand why Tina had kept quiet about what appeared to be a very active sex life – closer examination of the photos suggested that each one was taken on a separate occasion.

After mulling things over I decided there was very little do be done until whoever had sent these photos had been in touch. I made no mention of them when I spoke to Tina later. I didn’t want to unsettle her when she still had important meetings ahead of her. There would be time enough to talk things over when she returned home.

Contact was made sooner than I expected. After work the next day, I strolled to the nearby car park and found a woman leaning against the boot of my car, arms folded. She was wearing long, black boots with black leggings, a purple puffa jacket done up against the cold. Scattered, medium-length hair with blonde highlights and carefully applied make-up couldn’t stop her looking a little the worse for wear. I asked the obvious question. “Who are you?”

“Let’s get in out the cold,” the woman said, tilting her head back.

Fine, I decided, unlocking the car for her to get in on the passenger side as I took my place behind the wheel. “Now will you tell me who you are?”

The woman didn’t turn her head to look at me, but stared straight through the windscreen at a row of small shops beyond the confines of the car park. “How did you like the photos?” she asked.

I wasn’t going to answer that. “What do you want?”

The woman took her time answering. “I’ve booked a hotel room a week on Saturday,” she said. “It’s a hotel in London. I want you to deliver Tina to me. Seven o’clock.”

She had her hand in a pocket, bringing out a small card as I said, “Why should I?”

“You’ll do it if you want what’s best for Tina,” the woman said, handing me the card. It contained the name and address of a hotel, along with a room number, date and time.

“What’s this all about? Do you want money?”

The woman gave a hollow laugh. “Money? No, I want something much better than that.”

She was unzipping her jacket as she spoke. I didn’t understand, and was trying to formulate my next question when she handed me a CD-ROM in its case. “You may find this interesting,” she said. “Maybe it’ll spark a few memories in Tina. I assume you’ll be talking to her about this.”

“What will happen if we don’t go along with this?” I tried.

“Work it out,” the woman snorted, re-zipping her jacket, before opening the door and getting out. “Tell Tina that Lulu sends her love,” she said, slamming the door behind her.

Tina had plenty to tell from her trip to London, and I listened intently, asked questions and displayed my enthusiasm. But there was no way the issue of the photographs and Lulu could wait for long. Not knowing quite how to broach the subject, in the end I just laid it out, the way you rip off a plaster quick in the hope that it won’t hurt.

My wife scanned the photographs and the note for a long time. “It was another life,” she murmured at last, looking away, as if she was afraid of what I might say. “I couldn’t tell you about these exactly. It all blurs together. They were pretty wild days.”

I decided not to ask what “wild days” involved, but I meant it when I said, “What’s past is past.”

Tina looked at me with relief. Then she said, “Except it’s not, is it? I thought I’d left all that behind. But now…”

The obvious question was, “All what?” But I had to tell about the meeting with the woman in the car park too.

“Lulu?” my wife said when I’d finished. She said it with such surprise that it was obvious it wasn’t what she’d expected.

“And who’s Lulu?”

My wife gave a little sigh. “There’s no point in holding anything back, is there?” she said.

I gave a little smile. “I promise not to hold anything against you,” I said.

That put Tina a little more at ease, but she insisted that we put the kettle on before she told me.

“Back at school,” she said nursing the hot mug, “Lulu and I were inseparable. I wanted to be a famous writer, and she wanted to be a famous photographer, possibly even a film-maker. After school we kept in touch, but we moved in opposite directions, so we didn’t see anything of each other. I took a job as a waitress in London, but it was a horrible job and it didn’t pay much. I didn’t necessarily need much money either, but I thought that if I could somehow make more for doing less, I’d have more time left over to write. Then I saw an ad somewhere. I forget where, probably in some magazine someone had left behind. Anyway, it said they’d pay good money for ‘the right girl’. I must have been terribly naïve, but I didn’t really understand what it meant. All I cared about was the promise of ‘good money’. In the ad it said you had to have a portfolio to show. That involved expense, but I was sure Lulu would help me out.”

“And she did?”

“Oh yes. Of course. She did it for free, on the understanding that I’d put in a good word for her if anything came of it. I don’t know if she was as naïve as I was at that point. I don’t think so. I think she just wanted to get ahead any way she could.”

“Presumably the photos turned out alright?”

My wife smiled. “They were magnificent. They were also very innocent, fully clothed. Nothing risqué. But magnificent. So I sent them off, and a short while later I was invited to a meeting. I had to go to this grotty little office in a Soho back alley.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Oh yes, it really was that clichéd. I met with a couple of really creepy men who left me in no doubt whatsoever that though they thought I was 'the right material’, I was expected to pose fully nude. That freaked me out; the idea of undressing in front of a stranger’s camera. But I wanted the money.” My wife paused. “So I said I was happy to pose nude, but only if it was Lulu behind the camera.”

“That must have taken some nerve.”

My wife screwed up her face. “I don’t think they were used to girls making those kinds of demands. They must have seen something in me, though, because eventually they agreed.”

“So what happened next?”

My wife sighed. “One thing led to another,” she said. “The money wasn’t as good as it might have been, but it was miles better than waitressing, for less work. I was called back for more shoots – and Lulu was so good that she always got to do the shoots. Whatever doubts I’d had evaporated. I got used to posing nude.” She looked down. “I started to enjoy it.”

“And things just spiralled?”

Tina nodded. “When they first asked how I felt about videos, I thought long and hard about it. First it was just solo stuff. Then it escalated. The first full shoot with a man was nerve-wracking, but it was incredibly exciting too. Lulu was behind the camera; she was always behind the camera.”

There was a long pause. We drained our mugs. “More tea?” I asked.

Tina shook her head. “I don’t want to lie,” she said. “I’m not going to give one of those sob stories about how I was tricked into this awful business. I learned a lot about myself along the way, about pleasure, about my body, about abandoning myself. Nobody forced me to do anything. I could have walked away at any time, but I didn’t want to. Not just because of the money, but because I really was enjoying myself.”

My wife looked apprehensively at me, as if afraid of what I might say. I laid my hand on hers and gave a light squeeze. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’m not one to judge. You know that.”

Tina nodded. “Anyway,” she said, pulling her hand away, “back then what was produced in the UK was pretty tame stuff by anyone’s standards. Lulu and I started making monthly trips to Amsterdam; working weekends we called them. In the end we chose to move there. It was easier. I never told you, but I actually speak Dutch fluently. That’s how I got that job in European sales, you remember?”

I smiled. “We learn something new every day,” I said. “Go on, say something in Dutch.”

My wife looked amused. “Clean or dirty?” she asked. Then she said something that was incomprehensible to me.

“Which means?”

“You’re the best husband a woman could wish for,” my wife said.

“You’ll make me blush,” I joked.

My wife looked down at the table. “I’m the one who should be blushing,” she said. Then she sighed, picking up the tale again. “By the time I turned 30, both Lulu and I were growing tired of working for other people. We set up our own company. Doing administration meant that I did fewer shoots, but we never lacked for others willing to give the business a try. We made a living, but not much more. People imagine there’s all this money sloshing about in pornography, but it’s like every business; a few huge actors and a lot of minnows. We were minnows, doing low-budget, shoestring stuff. I put all my writing ambitions to one side. I didn’t really believe I’d make it anymore, and I was making a living doing something I enjoyed. It beat the hell out of cleaning or factory work.” She shrugged. “I don’t know that there’s much more to tell,” she said. “When I was injured in the road accident and became hospitalized, it gave me time to think, and write again. I’m not sure if I would have gone back to the old life or not if I hadn’t met you when I was convalescing. In the end it all became simple. I wrote to Lulu, telling her I was pulling out of the company and that she could keep my share. I just didn’t care. Not that it was worth much. Fortunately my language skills landed me a good job, and, well, that was that.”

There was silence for a while. This time I did get up and put the kettle on. When I’d poured new mugs of tea, my wife said, “Tell me. If you’d known all this about me, would you still have married me?”

This was no time for dissembling. “I don’t know,” I said. “I honestly don’t.” My wife kept anxious eyes on me. “But I do know that I’m not about to throw away years of happiness because of something that’s happened in the past. You’re my wife now, and we’ll get through this together.”

Tina breathed a long sigh of relief.

“So why is Lulu doing this?” I said. “Why now? Does she need money, do you think?”

“You said yourself she said she wanted something much better,” Tina said. Then after a little pause, “There’s only one way to find out.”

Something in her voice alerted me. “You want to go along with her demands? Why don’t you just call her?”

My wife gave a little frown. “It should be easy enough to find her number,” she said. “I mean I haven’t been in touch with her for years, but I assume she’s easy enough to find.”

“But you don’t want to,” I said, catching the reluctance in my wife’s voice.

“I just… It wouldn’t do any good. I know Lulu. If she’s set her heart on a plan, nothing anyone says will make her stray from it.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. To me it seemed very simple. If Lulu and my wife went way back, surely there must be some way of appealing to old friendship? But I also knew that my wife had a stubborn streak herself. If she had made up her mind that appealing to Lulu wouldn’t work, then I was unlikely to sway her, and I certainly wouldn’t do it by pushing her.

There remained the CD-ROM. Neither of us were in a hurry to see what was on it, though we knew that we must. Instead we had a bite to eat and tried to converse about normal things before setting up the laptop on the coffee table in the lounge and nestling next to one another on the couch in front of it.

There were five files on the disc, all of them named by a date. My wife sighed. “Might as well just try one,” she said, clicking on the icon named “3 April 1988”.

As the video began to play, I was once again struck by how odd it was seeing this Tina I’d never known. She had the same smile as in the photos, dressed in the standard cliché of a school girl’s uniform.

“Are you sure you want to see this?” my wife asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve seen the pictures, I’ve heard the story,” I said. “I’m hardly likely to be shocked.”

“Don’t bet on it,” my wife said.

That made me wonder, so instead I observed, “You look awfully young.”

“I was, what, 22,” Tina said. “I could still just about get away with impersonating a school girl without looking like mutton dressed up as lamb.”

“You look very fetching,” I said.

“It’s the school girl thing. You men are so predictable.”

Tina was teasing me, but now things were happening in the video. The setting was a bad mock-up of an office, and a male character, clearly intended to be a headmaster, was giving Tina a piece of his mind. Then he ordered her to bend over his desk. There was skirt lifting, panty dropping and a bout of spanking. Then there was a knock, and before either Tina or the “headmaster” had a chance to react, two men entered, apparently teachers.

There was some unconvincing dialogue. The headmaster explained that he was punishing Tina for spying on the boys in their changing room, though how she managed to do that was never explained. Why had she done it? Seeing boys naked turned her on, she said.

Inevitably and predictably, the teachers decided that perhaps she’d like to see real men naked instead. Tina would. Shortly there was a close-up of her face; her big, wide, innocent eyes. “Ooh, your cock is ever so nice and big, sir. May I taste it?”

Tina may. There was sucking. The two new arrivals willingly offered up their cocks, and Tina just as willingly pleasured them. Then she was bent over the headmaster’s desk again. This time there was no spanking, just hard fucking; Tina fucked from behind and sucking cock at the same time. Three loads of cum were delivered on her tongue, and she swallowed with a smile, assuring the viewer in close-up that the men’s sperm was delicious.

“How are you feeling?” my wife asked when the clip had played out.

“Fine,” I said. And I was. We make choices in life. Long before she met me, my wife had chosen to suck and fuck for a living, on film. I was finding it more intriguing than anything.

I leaned forward and clicked on a different icon, this one marked “21 March 1985”.

“Oh gosh,” my wife said as the clip started to play. “This must be the first video I ever acted in with someone else. I was only 19. I was so nervous.”

It shows. But more than that, it’s like looking at a different world, this 30 year old clip; Tina looking very shy and hesitant, a striking contrast to the present, but she with a presence that is hard to define.

“I can see why they saw something in you,” I said.

“You’re very sweet,” my wife said, her hand finding its way to my leg. There was text on the screen. TEEN NATASHA IN HER FIRST EVER VIDEO SHOOT.

“Natasha?” I said.

“Oh, I had all manner of names,” my wife said. “It was impossible to keep track of them. Everything was irredeemably fake.”

On screen, Tina was sitting nervously on the edge of a bed, allowing herself to be undressed. She was quite passive, just sitting as the male talent fondled her breasts. Then she was on her back, having her thighs stroked. There was pussy-licking, which visibly thawed her up a bit. Then there was fucking, in different positions. No words were exchanged, though there was a lot of heavy breathing. Then came the finale, my wife screwing up her face as thick ropes of sperm landed on her face.

“Not my finest moment,” my wife said. “But it was the first time I’d experienced it. I came to love it, as you know, but that first time I didn’t know what to expect. It was a bit of a shock.”

Mention of how I knew my wife loved facials caused a jolt of excitement in me. I wasn’t exactly indifferent to what I was seeing to begin with.

“I suppose I should have been more inquisitive as to where you got your amazing skills from,” I said. And perhaps I should. I hadn’t married my wife on account of her enjoyment of sex, but it had certainly made a pleasant change from my ex-wife, who had regarded a lot of sexual activities as somehow violating her personal integrity. Don’t get me wrong, we all have our limits, and it’s right that they’re respected, but my ex-wife wasn’t exactly one to abandon herself to lust.

Tina remained silent, leaning forward and clicking on an icon marked, “6 May 2000”.

Here, Tina of course resembled the woman I’d met ten years ago much more closely. I swiftly calculated that she would have been 34; no age really. It was an unsophisticated shoot, in a hotel room. Tina and three men. There were no redeeming features regarding narrative or artistry. What made the video was entirely down to Tina, her presence and her incredible, quite genuine enjoyment.

What words were spoken were in Dutch. I didn’t understand them, but it hardly required a dictionary to get the gist of what was said. And I have to admit that seeing Tina like this, more recognizable than in the previous shoots, was titillating. I noticed how proactive she was, going in search of the men’s cocks herself, appearing to make all the decisions concerning positions. There was something animalistic about her, the way she took her pleasure.

“You certainly look as if you’re enjoying yourself,” I observed.

My wife didn’t answer at once. “I was enjoying myself,” she said at last, as if unsure of how I might react to that.

“Do you miss it?”

Again there was a pregnant pause before my wife said, “Does it matter? I have a new life now.”

Her tone of voice suggested she didn’t really want to go down that road, so we watched the rest of the clip in silence. Tina was quick to click on the next icon, marked “22 August 1992”.

Here was my wife, still young enough to be mistaken for someone else, yet in the process of becoming her older self. It was a straight forward shoot in another hotel room, Tina and another man. As we watched the image of her bouncing up and down on what was a sizeable organ, my wife said, “Lulu hasn’t exactly gone for the really hardcore stuff.”

“Such as? What really hardcore stuff is there?”

My wife hesitated a moment. “Just ask me what I haven’t done,” she said.

“What haven’t you done?” I obliged

“Nothing,” she said.

The last clip was from the 25th of July 1994. Yet again in a hotel room, but now with Tina dressed up as a maid. There was a long sequence where she tottered about the room in high heels and a skimpy uniform, before a man entered, feigning surprise at seeing her there. There was a brief conversation in Dutch. Then there was a close-up of Tina’s heavily made-up face as she said something in a seductive voice.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It’s my job to provide good service.”

This could only mean one thing. In next to no time the man had his cock in Tina’s mouth. Soon she was being manhandled and bundled all across the room, fucked in every conceivable position, but without any part of her uniform coming off. Inevitably the whole thing ended with Tina receiving a huge load of cum all over her face. The clip ended with a close-up of her face running with sperm as she said something else in Dutch.

“Which means?” I asked.

“I hope I performed to your satisfaction, sir,” my wife said. Then she threw her arms around me. “Oh darling, I’m so sorry you had to find about this.”

“Perhaps it was inevitable,” I replied holding her tight.

We sat like that for a while, then, I asked, because I had to, “So how many videos do you think Lulu has of you?”

My wife leaned back, looking slightly embarrassed. “This is going to sound terrible,” she said. “But if she’s kept them all, we’re talking four figures.”

“Four figures?” I exclaimed, losing my calm slightly.

“20 years,” my wife said softly. “At least one shoot a week. It was what I had instead of a boyfriend or a husband.”

There was renewed silence. I didn’t know what the correct response was. But then life and age and experience have taught me that there’s no such thing as a normal or a correct response. Everyone is different; everyone reacts in their own unique way. We’d been happily married for nine years, and enjoyed an active and very enjoyable sex life. My wife had been 40 when we married; it wasn’t as if I’d imagined she was a virgin. All of this happened before we were married, so it wasn’t as if my wife had cheated on me. And as I’d already decided, it was understandable that she’d be reluctant to tell me of a past such as this.

And, well, to tell you the truth, discovering a secret past like this was quite exciting in its way. The circumstances were of course troubling, but the past itself was intriguing to me. Besides, I could easily see just how hot the videos were, however artless. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t watched porn – sometimes with Tina. I had no objections to it, so it would be hypocritical of me to object to my wife having made her living that way.

Right now I could sense the anxiety in my wife, so I lightened the tone. “You know,” I said. “I’ve never knowingly had sex with a porn star.”

The corners of my wife’s mouth twitched. “Oh I was never actually a star as such,” she said, a little bit of light returning to her eyes. “It was all shoestring stuff, remember?”

“All the same,” I said. “You were obviously very good at your job.”

That made my wife laugh. “It helps to enjoy what you do.” Then she became serious. “I’m sorry, that…”

“You don’t have to apologise,” I interrupted. “Not anymore.”

There was a renewed silence. Then my wife’s hand slowly found its way back to my knee. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Then she whispered, “So would you like to have sex with a porn star?”

I turned my head. She had an impish look in her eyes. “Do I get to enjoy any special tricks of the trade for being such an understanding husband?”

A huge smile lit up my wife’s face. “You’re a very bad man to take advantage of the situation like this!”

“You’re the one with your hand on my knee,” I retorted.

And that was it. Suddenly my wife’s hand wasn’t on my knee, but on my cock, rubbing through my trousers. Then she was on her knees in front of me, looking so sexy in the professional outfit she’d worn to her important meetings.

Then my cock was out in the open and Tina’s mouth engulfed me. It happened in one movement, my entire cock disappearing in her moist cavity, her lips gripping the root of my member. I still can’t be sure if I was imagining things, but it seemed to me as if I had never experienced anything like this, even though my wife was never sparing with her fellating skills. It was as if her mouth was one big suction pump, as if she was trying her hardest to actually swallow my erection.

Maybe watching my wife as she had been had made me even more turned on than I ordinarily was. Maybe I’m imagining things, but I do know that my wife just sat there, her lips clamped round the root of my cock, the moist heat creating the most delicious feeling. She did it all without moving her lips, and I don’t know how. In next to no time I was grunting, my cock twitching, my wife sitting there, with my entire length in her mouth as my seed issued forth.

There was no spillage. My wife slowly slid her lips back off my cock, licking them before teasing, “Someone seems to like the idea of being married to their very own porn star.” There was a very definite twinkle in her eye, but I was too stunned to speak.

Nevertheless, there were things about the strange business with Lulu that bothered me. Over the next few days I attempted to discuss them.

“You’ve performed in so many videos,” I said as we relaxed in the living-room. “What’s to stop anyone else from recognizing you?”

“Nothing,” my wife said. “But pornographic films aren’t that much different from ordinary films. You have huge stars, who are household names, and a whole load of actors you could pass on the street and not recognize.”

“But there’s still a danger of it happening.”

My wife screwed up her face. “In theory,” she said. “But it’s ten years since my last shoot. It’s a business with a rapid turnaround and a short attention span. Then you have to take into account that even if somebody saw a resemblance, I’ve never performed under my real name, and even a resemblance is not enough to convince someone that a former porn actress and a serious author are one and the same. Most people probably wouldn’t credit a porn actress with the ability to say more than, ‘fuck me and cum on my face’, far less write books.”

I considered this. “Fair point,” I said. “But even so…”

“I’ve thought about it, believe me. There’s flat denial as a strategy, of course, but I don’t really like it; it reeks of being ashamed of what I’ve done, which I’m not.”

“But what’s the alternative?”

“To brazen it out,” my wife said. “Though I’d rather it didn’t come to that. Not least because you’d become involved, invited to answer endless questions by the press, even though it’s none of your business. That’s why I’m determined to go along with Lulu’s demands for the moment. Just to see if there’s some way of sorting everything out.”

I gave this some thought. “If you did want to brazen it out,” I said. “I’d back you 100%, you know that.”

Tina smiled. “It might even be good for sales, at least in the short term; but in the long term… Who can tell?”

“Yes,” I said. “I can see why you want to try and sort things out on the quiet. I’m still not sure agreeing to Lulu’s demands is a good idea.”

“What alternative is there?” my wife said.

Answering that would have brought us full circle. I still didn’t understand why my wife didn’t try and contact Lulu, but there was no point in going on about it.

The Saturday specified by Lulu came closer. Every day my nerves grew. My wife, though, seemed much the same as always. Perhaps she was convinced that she could talk Lulu round, since they’d once been as thick as thieves.

Two days before the appointed date, there was a new delivery by courier, addressed to me. This time it was a CD-ROM, with a note; a reminder of the date, time and room number.

Deliver Tina to me. Don’t be late. I’m sure you wouldn’t want the world to know what your wife was in a previous life.

There was still no indication of what exactly Lulu wanted, or what would happen once I had “delivered” Tina to her.

That evening, I set the laptop up on the table in the living-room. My wife and I sat side by side as I fed the disc into the machine. This time there was only the one file, entitled “Tina Cumslut”. It took about 2 minutes to work out what it was. Tina had edited together a sequence of cum shots. There were 88 minutes left.

“We don’t have to watch this, you know,” my wife said.

“I know,” I said. “But we will.”

And we did. As strange as it may seem, there was something meditative about it. 180 cumshots, each 30 seconds apart, Tina receiving voluminous ejaculations on almost every part of her body, everything carefully edited from the many films she’d appeared in. A new load of cum every 30 seconds, slippery seed on her face, her breasts, her stomach, her buttocks, her anus, her labia, her back, her feet – but mostly her face. Slippery seed landing on her tongue, sliding over her chin, or coating her cheeks. I watched, hypnotised, mesmerised, hardly aware that my cock was stiff, just watching Tina as she had been, revelling in the feel of male seed on every inch of her body.

When the film had run its course, I turned to look at my wife, but she was impossible to read. Then she said in her steeliest voice. “I don’t regret it,” as if challenging me to disagree.

“And nor should you,” I said. Then, because I always joke when I don’t know what to say, “If Tina released that commercially, she’d clean up.”

“You mustn’t say that,” my wife whispered. And it was then I realised that she was as nervous about all this as I was.

Saturday rolled around. I tried to be sympathetic and affectionate and supportive, but I was afraid my voice betrayed my nerves every time I spoke. Tina didn’t say much either. She was dressed as if for an important business meeting, which I felt was a step too far, though she looked very impressive in her black skirt and nylons and white blouse, underneath her coat. We took the train up to Victoria Station and the Circle Line to Bayswater. We were miles ahead of time, heading for the hotel Lulu had specified, to make sure we knew where it was, then spending hours wandering aimlessly like sightseers, ending up, a little heedlessly, given Tina’s past history, wandering through Soho, before returning to Bayswater. We still had more than an hour to kill, sitting in a coffee house before finally making our way back to the hotel.

The inside of the hotel contrasted sharply with the neat, Georgian exterior. In fact the man behind the reception desk didn’t even look up when we entered, so we didn’t concern ourselves unduly with him either, finding our own way to room 305. By now we hadn’t exchanged many words for a long time, and all Tina did was to murmur, “Well, here we go,” before knocking on the door.

Lulu appeared in the doorway, an unsettling look in her eye. “Hello, Tina,” she said. “Punctual as always.”

“Lulu!” my wife exclaimed, undoing her coat before making to hug the woman. “It’s been so long.”

Lulu dodged the hug, standing aside to let my wife pass. I stuck close to Tina, saying to Lulu, “I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you think.”

“Oh,” Lulu said, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth, “I especially want you to be here.”

This knocked me off my stride. Tina, however, was not put off, standing her ground in the middle of the room. “Lulu,” she said, “what’s all this about?”

Lulu suddenly seemed a little put off herself, giving her bottom lip a nibble as she folded her arms. She was wearing black leggings and a frowsy white frock that did her few favours. “You left me!” she blurted out suddenly.

“Dear Lulu,” my wife said, in a conciliatory voice. “Things changed after the accident. I changed. You must understand that. You still had the business.”

“The business,” Lulu snorted. “Thirty years of my life doing nothing but filming people fucking! Do you think that’s what I wanted to do with my life?”

There was an eerie silence, then my wife said, “You should have said. I wouldn’t have stopped you if you wanted out.”

Lulu was tapping her foot repeatedly. There was something slightly unbalanced about her flickering eyelids too. “But don’t you see?” she wailed suddenly. “I couldn’t leave! I did it for you, Tina. I would have done anything for you!”

“I don’t understand,” my wife said softly, even though I felt illumination begin to dawn. “Why didn’t you stop, sell the business when I left?”

“Because I couldn’t,” Lulu wailed. “I always thought you’d come back! I thought you’d come back to me!” Then she turned, stamping her foot and muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!”

“I married,” Tina said quietly. “I had an accident and then I married. You know that.”

Lulu turned. “Oh,” she said frostily, “of course I know!” She was staring straight at me.

It was perfectly obvious that Lulu was unstable, and I had no idea how to behave. Instead of keeping my mouth shut, I shrugged and said, “These things happen. People meet, fall in love. People change.”

“You! You!” Lulu exclaimed, stabbing her finger in my direction, “You stole Tina from me!”

“Dear Lulu,” my wife tried. “Nobody stole any…”

“I loved you!” Lulu wailed, turning to my wife. “I loved you so much!” The words began to tumble out of her. “Oh I knew you didn’t love me; not like that. But as long as we had the business together, at least I got to be with you! I got to be with you even though my role was to film you shagging the world and his uncle! Then he turned up!” Once again she pointed at me. “You left me! You betrayed me!”

“I’m sorry,” my wife said softly. “If I’d known...”

“Sorry!” Lulu shouted. “Sorry!”

I tried again. “Please, just tell us what you want?”

This seemed to calm Lulu down a bit. “What I want?” she said. Then the cruel smile returned. “I want Tina back. Oh, not all the time, not like before. What about once a month?” It was a rhetorical question.

I’d reached breaking point. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Are you insane?” I barked. “It’s obviously out of the question!”

“Is it?” Lulu hissed. “Is it?” Then, turning to my wife, “Is it really out of the question, Tina?”

“Lulu, please understand,” my wife tried. “I’ve moved on. I’m sorry if I hurt you…”

“Sorry!” Lulu shouted again. “Sorry! I’m fucking through with sorry! I’m fucking through with everything.” She was turning. There was a sports bag on a chair, and she began rummaging in it. Then she turned back, holding a camcorder. Then she was moving, straight towards me as she thrust the thing at me. “Here! Take it!”

“What?”

“You stole her from me,” Lulu said. “And now you’re going to pay.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“I want you to know what it feels like!” Lulu shouted. “I want you to know what it feels like to stand there behind the camera, watching, recording the woman you love being fucked by other people!”

I tried desperately to get everything straight in my mind. I didn’t know Lulu, but she was obviously untrustworthy. What was her game plan? And what was this ‘other people’? Was she going to force herself on my wife?

“Take it!” Lulu yelled.

Then, to my amazement, my wife said quietly, “Do as she says.”

So I took the camera, turning it, seeing that it was already recording. That might be an advantage, if we could somehow get the camera out of the building with proof of Lulu’s lunacy. The woman leered at me as I held up the camera, then she turned, taking a few steps towards a door. If I’d imagined anything, it was that the door lead to a closet or something, but when she turned the handle and flung it open, I realised it was a connecting door to the next room. “In you come, guys!” she called gleefully.

I can only describe the three men who entered as brutes. That’s how they appeared to me; all shaven headed and naked, save for a mass of tattoos. They went straight up to my wife and began touching her, none to gently. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Tina,” one of them leered.

“We’ve seen a lot too,” another said.

This was intolerable. “You can’t do this!” I exclaimed.

The men ignored me, but Lulu stomped right up to me. “Of course we can!” she shouted. “And unless you want the world to see what a slut your wife, the celebrated author, really is, you’ll keep that camera trained on her!”

I looked at Tina, but she wasn’t looking at me. Without any sign from her, I didn’t know what to do. I aimed the camera at her, avoiding her face, thinking all the time that I must avoid capturing her face on film.

One of the men was undoing her skirt, which soon dropped to the floor. “Get the slut on the bed,” one of them said, and together the three of them lifted Tina and dumped her unceremoniously on her back on the bed. Her legs were pulled apart. “Tights!” one of the men spat. “I fucking hate those things!”

I just stood there, dumbstruck, forcing myself to think that I must avoid Tina’s face as her nylons were ripped asunder. Another of the men was undoing my wife’s blouse. Her knickers were pulled to one side, her breasts yanked out of the bra. “She’s fuckin’ fit for a 50 year-old,” one of the men said. Rough hands began squeezing my wife’s breasts. The man between her legs expectorated and began rubbing her pussy.

“Closer!” Lulu barked. She was looking straight at me. “I want a close up of that fuck hole!”

I took tentative steps towards the bed, training the camera on my wife’s pussy, which at least wasn’t her face. Two fingers were being pushed inside her. “Is the slut wet?” someone asked.

“Getting there,” the man replied. Then, “Fucking knickers, getting in the way!” He grabbed the crotch of the offending garment and ripped it through in one movement. As he pushed his fingers back inside Tina, a loud slap was heard, followed by another. Another of the men was maltreating her breasts.

“Slut’s not saying much, is she?” Someone said. “Might as well put her mouth to good use though.”

I kept the camera focused on my wife’s pussy, but could see easily enough how the third man got up next to my wife’s head, grabbed it and twisted it round. All three men were now fully erect and excruciatingly well hung. As the man pulled my wife’s head towards him, I was devastated to see how she put up no resistance, but meekly opened her mouth for him to insert his cock and pull her down deeply on him.

Tina was forced a long way down on the cock, then held as her nipples were pinched and a third finger entered her pussy.

“Zoom in on her face!” Lulu ordered. This was the very thing I didn’t want to do, but now I had to, though I still tried to avoid Tina’s eyes, which were closed in any case. “She looks so fucking posh now,” Lulu said. “I want to see her drool like the slag she really is!”

At that moment I wanted to slap Lulu really hard, but nothing good could come of that. I forced myself to stand still, aiming the camera at Tina’s face as the big cock worked back and forth in her mouth, audibly punishing her throat. Lulu got her wish. When Tina’s mouth was liberated, she gasped and coughed and saliva flooded out, soiling her cheek and chin.

“That’s the ticket!” Lulu cried. “Punish the fucking slut! It’s no more than she deserves!”

There was more throat fucking, tit slapping and pussy fingering. To my dismay both ends of my wife were emitting evidence of thick viscosity. “Fuck, you really can take it like a prize whore, can’t you?” the man fucking my wife’s mouth said as he withdrew. There was more coughing and spluttering, and this time the man slapped his cock against Tina’s soiled face.

“Open her up!” Lulu barked. “Let’s see how wet the slut is! Leopards never lose their spots! Once a slut, always a slut.”

I chose to move the camera away from my wife’s face, to focus on her pussy, and Lulu didn’t object. The man between her legs opened my wife right up, and as I zoomed in, I could see the very visible moisture Tina had produced. Once again there was the terrifying sound of harsh throat-fucking, then more spluttering and saliva. I was almost relieved that the liquid rendered her almost unrecognizable.

“Fucking slut wants it bad,” one of the men said.

“Turn her over,” another said.

The men grabbed her body and rolled her over. “Let’s get her arse in the air,” a man said, doing just that. Another grabbed her tights and panties, ripping them yet more.

“Go hard on her, boys!” Lulu urged. “Fucking slut always did like a big cock or three up her!” Then she kneeled on the bed, grabbing Tina by her ponytail and yanking her head up. “Tell it like it is, Tina! You like big fucking cock up you, don’t you? The more the merrier!”

To her credit, my wife gave a little splutter and breathed, “Do you really think I’m prepared to give you the satisfaction?”

Lulu gave an evil grin as one of the men slapped my wife’s behind hard and said, “Do we get to fuck the posh slag now?”

“Wait a second!” Lulu demanded. Then, “First I want that thieving bastard to come round here with the camera. I want Tina to look straight into the camera and say how much she wants you to fuck her with your big fucking cocks!”

She was pointing at me. Again there was nothing I could do to keep Tina’s face out of frame. I forced myself to take the necessary steps forward, aiming the camera at my wife’s face as Lulu had demanded. My wife’s lovely face, now a mass of slime.

“Look into the camera and say it!” Lulu barked, forcing my wife’s face round so that she was staring into the camera.

Instead my wife raised her eyes to look at me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Fucking slag!” Lulu yelled, pulling on Tina’s hair. “Look into the camera and tell your husband, tell the world what a dirty fucking slut you are! Show them all! I want you to beg for cock!”

This was terrible. I almost wished Tina would say what Lulu wanted, just to not antagonise the obviously insane woman yanking on her hair.

But my wife refused to utter a word. There was an impasse, then Lulu said, “Go on then boys! Fuck the horny cunt! As hard as you like. She’ll be begging for more in no time!”

One of the men was up behind my wife in no time, pushing his huge cock into her. I couldn’t believe that my wife could take it without some obvious reaction. “Keep the camera trained on her face!” Lulu barked. “So that everyone can see how much she enjoys having her cunt stretched out!”

As the man thrust his cock into my wife, Lulu holding her head, I tried desperately to think of some way out of this. Needless to say, I couldn’t think of one. And then, as the man’s cock thundered back and forth, balls slapping, bestial grunting ringing in my ears, there was a noise at the back of my wife’s throat too. I wanted to imagine it was some form of protest, but there are only so many ways a man can fool himself.

Gradually, as the man went on, fucking and fucking my wife with his huge cock, a new look began to filter through from the backs of Tina’s eyes. At the back of my mind I could hear Lulu's words, 'Once a slut, always a slut.' I tried to shut the words out, but the woman was giving me her malicious stare. My wife started gasping. Flesh slapping mingled with squishing moisture. I looked at my wife’s parted lips and her eyes. She glanced up at me, as if to say she was sorry again, but there was undeniably something else in them now, as she stared into the camera.

Then Lulu held up her hand. The man fucking my wife pulled out as Lulu yanked Tina’s head round. “Well, slut. What do you have to say for yourself now?”

Tina was breathing heavily. She was silent for what seemed like an age. She glanced at me with indecisive eyes, then looked away. “Don’t stop now,” she whispered.

“What’s that?” Lulu barked. “What did I hear? Does the dirty slut want more?”

“Yes,” Tina whispered. “I want more!”

“Tell your thieving husband, tell the world you’re a dirty slut!” Lulu barked. “I want to hear it! Then you can have more!”

“I won’t do that,” Tina said, which was at least something, even if it was a small comfort to me at that exact moment. I recalled the question I’d asked, the one my wife hadn’t answered in so many words, 'Do you miss it?' Here was an answer of sorts.

Something of how I was feeling must have been visible in my face, because when she looked at me with her warped malevolence, Lulu seemed strangely gratified. “Alright boys,” she said. “You’ve got your little cock whore. Give her everything you’ve got!”

She dumped Tina’s head down on the bed as my wife was penetrated anew. I didn’t know if it was the same man or another, but it hardly mattered. Nor did it matter if I captured my wife’s face on film or not; not any more. Nevertheless I backed off a few steps, trying not look at her face, far less film it. My wife was gasping out loud as her pussy was pounded. Lulu had retrieved a lipstick from somewhere. Grabbing Tina’s head, she proceeded to spell out “SLUT” on her forehead.

“Film it!” Lulu yelled at me, and once again I was compelled to train the camera on my wife’s face; the letters on her forehead like blood red stigmata. This time Tina kept her eyes closed, breathing heavily through her open mouth as the man behind her kept on shafting and shafting.

When the man grunted, I thought he was going to cum, but instead he pulled out. To my horror, my wife gasped out, “Don’t stop! Give me more!”

Another of the men did as she asked, shoving his massive erection into her. Someone else slapped my wife’s arse. “Greedy fuck pig,” he said.

“Mature sluts are the best,” the man fucking Tina said, digging his fingers into my wife’s flesh as he pounded his cock into her. “Can’t get enough, these slags can’t.”

By now all I wanted was for this to be over soon. Lulu seemed to have got what she wanted, because all she did was stand on the other side of the bed, arms folded, regarding the action, and occasionally grinning vengefully at me. The humiliation was now up to the three men.

I stood opposite, unable to do anything except train the camera on the bed. I tried again to think how we could get out of this mess, but couldn’t think of anything. I’d never felt so completely powerless in my life. Not least because it was so painfully obvious that my wife had missed this, at least in part. What I’d seen on video was tame compared to this, but Tina had warned me. 'Ask me what I haven’t done.' As the men continued to use her, every pretence that this was disagreeable to my wife vanished.

She was bundled over on her back, her head suddenly hanging over the edge. One of the men got on top of her immediately, between her spread legs. As he fucked her, one of the other men slapped my wife’s upside down face with his huge cock. “Open up, slut!”

Just when I thought my wife couldn’t look any more bedraggled, even more slime coated her face. I would have been impressed with the amount of punishment Tina could take as the man shoved his huge cock in her face, if I hadn’t been so appalled. And of course the punishment was all mine. I could see now that however terrible it all looked, Tina was enjoying herself, having her throat and cunt fucked hard. Unbelievably enough also enjoying the way the third man spat on her, slapped and pinched her tits and called her a “dirty fuckslut” and a “greedy cocksucking whore”. As she coughed and spluttered and drooled, the brief flicker of open eyes betrayed a depraved gleam that made my heart sink all the more.

The man fucking Tina pulled out, only to stuff three fingers inside her and frig her roughly. I had never in my life heard anything so obscene as the noise that came from my wife’s cunt just then. I was trying hard not to look too closely as the man worked his fingers continuously, the other two men now just looking on, allowing my wife the leeway to moan out loud. I recognized the sound. “What a fucking slut!” someone said. The man kept on frigging my wife, and then, as I knew that she would, Tina climaxed, her body shaking.

The men gave her no respite. She was bundled round on the bed and her arse lifted as before, only this time, the man holding her decided, “Right, now I’m gonna give it you up the arse, you dirty little whore.”

That monster? I’m sure I must have flinched. Lulu just stood there, arms folded, leering at me. Tina gasped out loud, but gave no sense that she was in pain as she was penetrated. I tried hard not to look as the man’s thick, long cock forced itself back and forth, stretching out my wife’s anus. The two other men were up on the bed too; the one holding her head up by her pony tail, the other slapping his cock against her slime-coated cheeks, before finally demanding that she open her mouth.

My wife whimpered at the back of her throat, but did nothing to prevent the men from burying their cocks to the hilt in her mouth and arse, as if they wanted to force even more into her than their already considerable size. There was loud squelching everywhere; my wife at the centre of it, hardly more than a rag doll as the men used her holes, fucking and fucking, shoving their massive cocks into her.

Then the man in front of her bellowed out loud, “Yeah! I’m cumming! Fuck! Take my big load, you dirty fucking whore!”

His cock kept moving in Tina’s mouth. There was a terrifying noise somewhere in Tina’s throat. The man was grunting like a pig, and shortly my wife’s lips relinquished their hold just enough for thick, white cream to billow out of her mouth and down her chin, dripping onto the bed.

“Yeah! That’s it. Fucking cum on the slut!” Lulu cried, clearly enamoured of what she was seeing.

It was some small relief that the man fucking my wife’s arse pulled out. She was tipped over on her back, and the two remaining men wanked their cocks briskly as my wife looked from one to the other.

“Fucking cumslut!” Lulu spat. “Tell them you want it!”

Tina didn’t, but nor did she look particularly reluctant to have those two brutes’ sperm shooting out over her breasts and stomach. It seemed to me that my wife’s body might dissolve in the mass of fluid.

“It’s a wrap!” Lulu cried, clapping her hands. “Off you go, boys!”

Surprisingly meekly the three men turned and returned to the next room, closing the door behind them. I put the camera down on the small writing desk, turning to look at Lulu, rather than my wife, who was struggling to sit up; her face and torso absolutely drenched in saliva, drool, slime and cum.

“Are you satisfied?” I said to Lulu, deciding that there was no point in beating about the bush.

“For the moment,” the woman smiled. Suddenly she seemed as calm as anyone could ever be.

“What does that mean?”

She gave a twitch of the mouth, and in an instant I knew that none of this stomach-churning business was over. “Like I said, I want Tina back.”

“Are you insane?” I blurted, realising as the words came out that I was crazy to deal with a crazy person by drawing attention to their obvious mental imbalance.

Lulu ignored my outburst. “Not all the time,” she said. “Like I said, I’ll settle for once a month.”

“It’s out of the question!”

“One shoot a month,” Lulu said, causing my heart to sink. “Oh don’t worry. Tina can wear a mask or a hood or something. Wouldn’t want to ruin her nice new career, would we?” Voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Of course I can,” Lulu said, a thin-lipped smile avoiding her eyes entirely. “There’s a good market for mature sluts being fucked senseless by young studs.”

I was about to erupt at the sheer audacity of Lulu’s demand, but then my wife, who had been silent through this latest exchange, said softly, “We can discuss it.”

My jaw dropped as I turned to look at her, and from the way she was looking at me, I feared the worst.