The Private Investigator free porn video

Note: The last photo shoot detailed below between Kerry and Patrick was real, and the photo above one of the results. We sincerely hope the Private Investigator wasn’t real.

Markus attended to his preparations with meticulous attention: batteries were loaded, lenses cleaned and packed, listening devices prepared. His work was his passion, and he didn’t accept anything less than perfect. He worked under the most challenging conditions to get that perfect shot – more so than any normal photographer and definitely with more artistry than any other PI. And the result? The final photo that he chose to present cost his client a fortune, and was used as a trophy rather than a divorce tool. His clients were a select group of very rich, rather perverted men. They knew their wives were having affairs but rather than divorce them, they followed an unusual path with their evidence.

How the club had started Markus had no idea. They met once a year and he was, to his knowledge, their only investigator. He was paid way beyond top dollar for his services, but then he delivered way above the norm. His brief was clear: he was given free access to the homes, cars and anything else required to set up all the spying devices he required to do his work. He used the information gathered to find out where the wives would meet their lovers, got there before them, pay whatever bribes oiled his path and set up surveillance equipment. He was to take studio quality erotic photos of the wives. Whether or not the lover was in the photo was irrelevant, but the photo of the wives had to be supremely erotic. The face could be included or not, as art dictated, but the photos of the wife had to be an artistic masterpiece.

Markus knew there was no retribution for the affairs because he often saw the same lovers again with the wives. In fact, he often wondered if the wives weren’t in on it. Sometimes he got the impression that they knew they were playing to a third, unseen audience.

He got off on his work, intensely and repeatedly. He had discovered a voyeur in himself that he never knew existed, and had now all but buried his other sex life so that he could indulge himself in the secret sex he documented. He wasn’t stupid, and didn’t take chances that jeopardised his work, but the odds were he’d get himself off at least once during a photo shoot, and definitely afterwards, not to mention when he was printing the photos, which he did with his own state-of-the-art equipment. It had happened more than once that he’d had to reprint his life-size final product because he’d gotten so carried away in his ‘enjoyment’ of the moment that he’d spewed all over the wife in the picture. Markus’s secret and private enjoyment was the videos he took of the scenes he photographed - they were for himself, for his own private collection.

Markus had three assignments running concurrently, a huge workload given the intensity of his preparations. The easiest would be with Lauren, an absolutely gorgeous trophy wife that he had photographed at least five or six times already. She was a true exhibitionist and could be relied on to get herself into a variety of publically compromising positions. She lived as if she was on show to an audience all the time, so she created great photo opportunities naturally for him. His only problem was making sure that he had his equipment was set up in the right area so that he could capture the moment. As he’d got to “know” her better that became easier and he was pretty sure this evening’s pic would be a stunner. Carmen’s photo was going to be a bigger challenge – an oyster and champagne breakfast on the rocks at the beach. She was outdoorsy and attractive in a different way to Lauren. His only hope of anonymity there was a boat out at sea with a tele-lens. The problem was finding an angle where he could actually see her. She was raunchy in private, but very private about being raunchy, so she wouldn’t be easy to catch on camera without careful planning as he’d painfully discovered in the past. The last and most technical challenging was Kerry. She was in a steady extra-marital relationship with a photographer and they had a rapport going between them that was insanely hot. The challenge was that he had to photograph her during an erotic photo shoot that her lover had set up, piggy backing on the lover’s plans, composition and equipment, but without him knowing anything about it. It would be the most technically challenging assignment he had ever faced, but the results could be exceptional.

That evening, feeling the thrill of a true voyeur, Markus sat secreted in the shadows outside the beautiful, baroque building with its yellow light streaming out invitingly. Lauren was attending a medieval party there, dressed for the occasion in a low cut temptress gown of heavy red velvet trimmed in mink. Of course she wore the colour and trim of royalty, and only her royal attitude let her get away with the shimmy she did that dropped her heavy dress to the floor, leaving her displayed in the most delicate set of red and black underwear that would have offended the sensibilities of any decent medieval lady. Markus knew he didn’t need her naked to capture an erotic photo. This would be perfect, but the men crowding around her would spoil any shot.

“Come on Lauren. Clear the crowd. You can do it. I know you know I’m out here.” he silently encouraged her in his mind. Still, for long minutes she remained surrounded until, to the sound of infectious laughter, she strutted out of the group towards the little wall in the front of the building and struck a perfect pose – head slightly back, hair flowing down to lovingly stroke her hip on the one side. She was perfection bathed in the golden night- light and he couldn’t have hoped for a better shot. He only had a second before her enraptured audience moved in to spoil the glory of the backdrop, but it didn’t matter, he knew he had what he needed from Lauren – again. It had been almost as easy as he had planned, but the results were going to be amongst the most erotic he had ever produced. The woman was a natural tease, and as he developed and printed the photo tonight, he knew he was going to succumb to her allure many times in private. He would imagine that she was there for him, posing for him, teasing him. He conjured images of the men closing in, their hands sliding over her, touching her everywhere, intimately, and in his fantasy she allowed it because she was putting on a show for him, just for him. In his dream she somehow sought and found his eyes in the darkness and kept eye-contact the whole time until those anonymous wondering hands led her down the path to a thundering and public orgasm. His groin tightened hard at the image. His own orgasm was not far away.

As predicted, Carmen was a lot more difficult to capture. Markus sailed the little boat he’d rented a way out into the sea at daybreak the next morning and sat bobbing gently, waiting for Carmen and her lover. He’d only had about two hours sleep last night so his eyes were only slightly grittier than his mood was. He dropped the sails and set up the fishing rods that were his cover for sitting there. Then he set an alarm for a couple of hours later so that he would wake up before the early birds arrived for their outdoors breakfast. Although it was a private beach, his bet was that they would choose to sit in front of a rock outcropping that would provide them with some extra privacy. He did drift off to wonderfully erotic images, and woke refreshed and in a far better mood. Best of all, he woke with a hard-on that he knew would inspire his work. He always took his best erotic photos when he was aroused, which made sense.

He hadn’t been awake above a quarter of an hour when he saw the first signs of movement. The servants were carrying down whatever was required to set up the picnic. Markus watched through his camera so that he could see the detail. Within half an hour a fairy-tale setting had been created with a very traditional mixture of silver, crystal and linen. Markus was a little surprised as it wasn’t Carmen’s usual style and again he had to consider: ‘Did these women know?’. He often got on the impression that he was being assisted in the composition of these ‘secret’ moments he was capturing and that the women wanted their shot to be as perfect as possible. Finally, the food arrived. Markus’s erection went from being just a hard-on to full-on aroused as he played out the scene in his mind of what he could potentially happen here today. Carmen had invited her lover to a beach breakfast of champagne and oysters, an invitation loaded with flirting sexual promise.

Eventually the last servant had left and Carmen and her lover meandered down the path. The sun had risen spectacularly on the horizon in a colour-wash of reds and oranges and it was already warm. Today was going to be a scorcher again. They drifted over to the edge of the waves hand in hand, and presented a pretty, romantic picture as they played on the water’s edge, but Markus wasn’t tempted to squeeze off a single shot. He watched them and enjoyed the moment, but this wasn’t what he was here for.

He felt a little smug at how well he knew these women that he stalked. He had predicted the spot that Carmen would choose to sit and had known exactly how the morning would start. He enjoyed the feeling for about ten minutes before Carmen simply stood on the edge and dropped the straps of her dress. She stood there naked, facing away from him and laughing at her lover, then turned and ran into the sea, a glorious Aphrodite with hair streaming behind her. He framed and captured his pictures without conscious thought, completely caught up in what was happening. He didn’t think about the club or his brief, only about capturing that moment of perfection. All too soon she had plunged into the water and was out of sight, swimming away from her now also naked lover who was laughingly pursuing her.

Eventually they emerged from their frolicking and moved back towards their sitting area. Carmen lay a lounger flat and lay down on it in an elegant pose that came from her natural athleticism. She was positioned so that Markus could see her entire left hand side, perfect for his purposes. Again he had to wonder how orchestrated this was. Sometimes it just seemed too easy. Her lover brought over two glasses of champagne and the fresh oysters on ice from the table and set them down on the table next to her before kneeling next to it. He lifted an oyster, squeezed some lemon over it and loosened the shellfish a little from its shell with one of the forks provided for that, slowing the lemon juice to run under the oyster too. He lifted the broad end of the shell to Carmen’s mouth, and, eyes closed, she sipped the delicacy from the shell, savouring the flavours. He reached over to kiss her, sipping the tang from her mouth before returning to the tray for another one. This time he fed himself before reaching down to kiss her again. They ate about eight oysters like that, idly sipping on their champagne in between.

Markus noted that their kisses were getting more heated after each oyster, and their hands were roving and lingering with more and more intent. His had been resting on her waist, but soon slipped up to knead her breast, and shortly after slipped down to finger the trim little bush between her legs. Her hands didn’t have the same range as his, but the way they gripped convulsively on his shoulder as he kissed her was also a picture of eroticism. On impulse Markus quickly shot a series of photographs: her clenched hand, his wandering finger, her lips sipping at the champagne and a few other sensual symbols thinking he might try something interesting with them for his own personal collection, possibly a broken glass collage. It would be incredibly hot to blow it up full-wall-size and he could, so long as there were no identifiers to link the pictures to the real people.

He was alert now, knowing that his perfect shot would have to be captured soon and that his reflexes would have to be flawless to catch perfect light and composition in a scene over which he had no control. There was movement in the scene now, he saw. The lover had spread Carmen’s legs, dropping her left leg off the lounger onto the sand. His fingers caressed her spread her vaginal lips, spread them and slowly rubbed her glossy juices up and down her swollen pink slit. He bent to taste, running his tongue up and down her as he savoured her.

“Shit,” Markus swore in frustration. That could have been an awesome frozen moment, but the lover’s head partially obscured Carmen’s vagina and it spoilt the effect. Marcus watched more, hardly noticing the eroticism anymore. His videocam would allow him to enjoy that later. Now he was focussing more on the technical aspects of his photography. And then it came – perfect in every aspect: the lover sat back on his heels and reached for an oyster. He doctored it with lemon and pried it loose as before, but this time he took the shiny silver oyster between thumb and forefinger and, spreading Carmen wide with his one hand, he slowly inserted the cold oyster into her equally glistening hole. The mutual glisten, the play of colours and the similar textures of the oyster and her pussy gave the close up photo an abstract look that first distracted from the detail but then left you gasping when you realised what you were looking at. It was so fine in its composition that there was no hint of smut despite the very blatant subject matter. This, he knew, would be one of the finest photos he had ever produced.

After that, Markus could relax. He knew he had his shot and there was nothing left for him to do except sit back and stroke himself gently in time to the rhythm of the sea as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him. The lover had fed a series of oysters into her pussy as she writhed at the icy sensation. Then he bent forward to lick and suck at her until he had them all out. Carmen lay, her hands clenching his head as her legs clamped him closer. Obediently her lover continued his feast, until Carmen’s bucking and writhing changed its pace. Her whole body clenched and clamped and although he couldn’t hear her sounds as she orgasmed over the crashing of the waves, Markus could clearly see as she reached her peak and stayed there, her eager lover refusing to allow her down before he had finished his banquet. Markus, unable to hold himself back, had shot his own cum in a spectacular arc over himself and into the sea as he watched Carmen peak. His release, like his photo, was a memory he would treasure forever; one of the best orgasms of his life. He drifted there at sea for another hour before he had the will or the physical strength to return to shore for his next assignment.

That evening the final scene was set, and Markus’s palms were sweating. The technical challenge he was facing was enormous, and it was a matter of professional pride for him to ‘ace’ it. He might be evaluating himself in this, but he knew the building blocks for something amazing were there if only he managed it correctly – and, he admitted, had a bit of luck too.

He had paid bribes, oiled paths, and was now roomed in the room next to the one Kerry and her lover was going to be booked into. He had rigged the room with practically invisible hi-tech cameras that he would be manipulating from his control centre that he had set up using the dressing table as a desk. He knew from the conversations between the lovers that they were planning to take erotic high-key photos. That meant he would erect white screens, and have a white umbrella there to diffuse the flash. This was a double problem because it meant that the equipment Markus placed had to be so well camouflaged that someone with as much attention to detail as a photographer would not notice them. It also meant he had to place cameras where they wouldn’t be obscured by equipment. Just that was already enough to make this a difficult and demanding assignment. The one advantage he had this time was that he had audio as well, so he would be guided by voice prompts

Markus imagined the planned composition – it was a good choice, he mused, the soft light bounced from multiple flashes would soften Kerry’s fair body and in turn highlight the chilli and chocolate focus they had planned. Now the problem was the split second timing because Markus had to piggy back on the lover’s composition and movements. He was completely at the mercy of another professional, and he hated that. He desperately needed control, but there was nothing more he could do to gain control in this setup. That was why his palms were sweating and he was sending out good vibes to the universe, hoping to attract some attention from Lady Luck.

The lover, Patrick, arrived first with bags of equipment, and Kerry followed shortly after. It always amazed Markus watching them how their meetings just seemed to get hotter and hotter, and judging by their kiss as they greeted each other, this one wasn’t going to break the pattern. The audio was an added benefit – he felt as if he was right there in the room with them.

“Hello, my love. I’ve missed you.” Patrick said as he opened the door to her knock. She walked straight into his arms.

“Mmm, my kiss, I want my kiss,” she demanded with a laughing pout as she locked her lips onto his. They clung to one another, not a hairs breadth between then as they teased and nipped at one another. Eventually Kerry broke the contact.

“I have to lose the shoes,” she smiled at him, walking into the room and kicking off her shoes in an unobtrusive corner in what was a familiar ritual. He took her bag and put it down for her then came back for more kisses.

“I’ve missed you,” he repeated. “Two weeks is way too long.”

“I know. I missed you too. Then don’t go away so often.” As they spoke he was deftly removing her clothes. Within seconds her shirt and skirt was off.

“Mmm, no panties and you’re smooth!” he exclaimed. “That’s a surprise!”

“I thought it would look better in the photos,” Kerry laughed, pleased at the result of her little surprise. She actually felt a little strange completely smooth, it would take some getting used to, but she knew he loved a smooth feel, and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. As his one hand was travelling over her, enjoying the satin finish, the other was deftly unhooking her bra.

“That must be some kind of record. You’re usually fast in getting me naked, but I haven’t even been here ten minutes yet,” she grinned at him teasingly.

“Why waste time?” he teased back, staring into her eyes and tightening his hold on her as he pulled her in for another kiss.

“No fair. You’re still fully dressed!”

“That’s because you’re slow, my love. Don’t blame me for that.” Less than a minute later and both of them were equally nude. Markus had expected them to immediately set up the equipment and start the photography session, so he was a bit taken aback when he saw them tumble to the bed together and continue their make-out session. Unbelievable as it was, it seemed they had completely forgotten their plans and were throwing themselves wholeheartedly into their reunion. He had sweated blood setting up today’s session, and if they forgot it he was going to be enormously pissed!

And they had forgotten it. They were lying cocooned in each other’s arms, kissing and caressing between whispered words of love. Every sound drifted to Markus’s ears as the sensitive audio equipment picked it up and magnified it. Soon the words became sparser and their breathing and moaning dominated the room.

Kerry and Markus were in the classic 69 position now. Markus had split the screens between the cameras on his monitor, so he could see everything they were doing from every angle. He could see Patrick eagerly lapping at Kerry’s pussy. His hand that wasn’t on her pussy was trailing her side and breasts, tugging a little sharply on her hanging breasts, and tweaking her nipple. Patrick pushed a finger deep inside her, pumping it in and out until it glistened, and then slipped further down to slide it into her other hole. From the welcoming sounds and her stuttering movements, it clearly heightened her pleasure.

Simultaneously, in another window, he could see Kerry as she licked and teased up and down Patrick’s very eager cock. Her moans and breaths sparked either from her own pleasure or from her enjoyment of eating him were sending random little tremors of hot breath along his cock. There was no finesse or choreography here, no thought of posing for the cameras if they knew about them. This was raw desire at its purest, and the effect on Markus was intense.

He completely forgot that he was pissed, or even that he was supposed to be doing an assignment in the first place. He even forgot that he wasn’t a part of their lovemaking. He was them, both of them. He could taste and feel and even smell what they tasted and felt and smelt, could feel their pleasure in every pore of his body. Better yet, his pleasure was enhanced by the secret illicitness of his actions, by the adrenalin that was pumping through him before and it heightened all his responses. Markus only just managed to free himself from his pants and grab a towel lying next to him in time. After his outing on the boat he didn’t think he’d have had time to build up much cum, but he came with at least as much intensity and quantity as he had earlier, just from watching them.

Completely depleted, Markus took a while to recover, but thankfully he hadn’t missed his critical photo window. The couple in the room next door had no thought at all for anything but each other, certainly none for taking photos of their pleasure. He was pleased that he was capturing it all on video, so he could relive it again and again afterwards. The bit he had missed would be there for him, but so would all the rest: it would join his very personal and very private DVD collection.

Soon he was completely absorbed in the scene before him again. Kerry had turned around and lying on her back, Patrick semi-sprawled over her as he sucked her nipples, his one hand buried between her legs. Her legs were spread wide in invitation, and Markus had a perfect view of Patrick’s hand, his fingers dipping alternately into both holes, sending her wild. Kerry was mewling and moaning, and Patrick was watching her, clearly loving her reactions, using them to send her higher and higher into her spiral. She convulsed tightly, clutching his shoulders, reaching her head down to bite his shoulder. Eventually Patrick softened the pace. He cuddled her close, giving her a chance to catch her breath before she joined her mouth to his again, kissing him passionately as her hands resumed the roaming over his body that she had been too caught up to continue before.

Soon she was slithering over and on top of him, and then he was inside her.

“Yes, deep inside, that’s where I want to be. I want to be inside you my love,” Patrick was chanting. The intensity between them had ramped up enormously and now this was no longer playful sex, it was serious loving.

“Yes, please. Please. Hard like that!” Kerry was urging him as he drove faster and faster into her. She was moving above him frantically, both driving hard and eager. Hands linked, she was slightly bent forward and they were lost in each other’s eyes, despite the frantic rhythm of their bodies. Kerry was panting hard, repeating her words of encouragement over and over again. She contracted, convulsed, but didn’t stop her frantic rhythm and a second later Patrick was bursting into her, shooting his cum deep inside.

Kerry collapsed on top of Patrick, as they both tried to catch their breath.

“My darling, it just get’s better,” Patrick whispered in her ear.

“I can’t believe it.” Kerry agreed an obvious awe. “That – was - incredible!” His shrinking cock jerked inside her and she convulsed around him involuntarily again. Their chemistry was illogical and inexplicable, but it had been like this from the very beginning. Their bodies responded to one another like dry grass to a spark.

“I love the way you stay inside me for so long after you cum,” Kerry said, nuzzling against his neck in pleasure.

“I love the way you cum,” he smiled back at her, stealing another deep kiss as she made eye contact with him again. They lay there for another age, enjoying one another’s bodies, and their inevitable pillow talk.

“Do you still feel like taking the photos?” Patrick asked eventually. Markus went icy cold at the question. That’s what their whole meeting had been about and here Patrick was, casually thinking of shelving the most exciting professional opportunity Markus had ever had.

“Lets,” Kerry said, to Markus’s relief. “I don’t want you to have gone to all the effort of having brought all your equipment for nothing. Besides which, we’ll have fun. Just let me clean up a little.”

They both drifted around the room doing their own things to clean and prepare for the photo shoot, but Markus noted that even then there was seldom much distance between them there was always a hand trailing over a thigh or a quick kiss stolen in passing. He watched nervously as Patrick set up his equipment, but so far his camouflage seemed to be holding up well. Patrick didn’t discover anything, and although the white umbrella he used to diffuse the flashes was placed exactly in front of Markus’s one camera, he did have another that he could use.

White screens were erected around the bed, a white cloth thrown over it, and Patrick was ready to take some test shots. Some minor adjustments to umbrella and flashes, a readjustment of a screen and he declared them ready, words that instantly had Markus’s palms wet again. Patrick, still completely naked and seemingly unaware of it, leant over Kerry for a final kiss before he stepped back into his photographer role.

He arranged her on the bed, one leg straight, the other bent at the knee, and put a cushion under her head for comfort. Then he took the liquid chocolate that he had pre-warmed and poured it artistically over her stomach and groin and placed the chilli over it, pointing it decadently to her groin, its phallic symbolism clear but not crude. Patrick took a photo, checked it on his Nikon dSLR camera and stepped back to fiddle with the flash and the angle of the umbrella a bit more. He took a few shots from the tripod and then knelt next to her a take a few more.

“Try holding the chilli in your thumb and forefinger, pointing it towards your pussy at a fourty-five degree angle,” he directed. “You’d better remove your rings first. They’re identifiers and we might decide to publish the photos somewhere.” Patrick tried a few shots like that but wasn’t quite satisfied with the result so he lay the chilli back on her skin. By this time though the chocolate had warmed and the chilli was slipping around it in a little. Kerry clenched her one butt cheek to try to unobtrusively keep it in place without spoiling the picture, but it slid anyway. Eventually she couldn’t hold it back any more, try as she might, and her stomach started shaking.

“What’s going on?” Patrick asked her, confused.

“It’s sliding and it’s ticklish and I’ve got a cramp in my butt,” she said and burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry love. I forgot you aren’t used to this.” Patrick felt bad, but Kerry’s laugh was infectious and he was struggling not to join her and seem insensitive.

“It’s not a problem, but I’ve been trying to balance it and I don’t know what’s worse, the tickling as the chilli slides or the cramp as I try to stop it. I told you I wasn’t a professional model like you usually work with.” By now she’d given up trying to maintain her pose and had stretched her leg out to ease the cramp, but the laughter still shook her. Patrick leaned over to eat up her laugh in a kiss that soon had her squirming again.

In the meantime Markus was working feverishly on his screens. He had three cameras that were specially set up with flash sync units so that his cameras would trip when Patrick’s flash went off. The problem was that he had very little mobility on the camera’s themselves and no control at all over where Patrick put his head or his leg, so some potentially perfect shots were destroyed by odd body parts. In the end though, Markus felt he had two or three exceptional shots he could choose between.

In the meantime, the scene onscreen continued. Patrick had replaced the chilli with maraschino cherries on stalks. There was a beautiful shot as Kerry held a cherry right over her juncture, and the syrup from the cherry stretched from the cherry right to the chocolate, but Markus missed the shot and didn’t get another chance at it.

Patrick was soon finished though, and without warning put his camera down and tackled a rising Kerry back onto the bed, chocolate and all. They were soon rolling around on the bed in a sticky chocolatey mess, and the end was inevitable. Markus watched with an enormous smile, a happy voyeur.