In a Handjob Video

Posted by: Author: Age: 31 Posted on: 0 comments
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Responded to an add on Craigslist looking for men who wanted to be paid to get a handjob...

 

Well, I've crossed a line.In my 20-plus years of masturbation, this time I've maybe gone too far. This happened to me yesterday, and I wanted to share it with Solotouch, a place where I have come so many times to cum.



I began masturbating at a very young age. It has been a constant companion to me throughout my years, and into adulthood. I'm a married male, married for ten years, and my wife is not very interested in sex. We barely ever do it. I have my hands and imagination to keep getting me through. As a result, I've visited massage parlours and escorts looking for relief. I have never had intercourse during these encounters, but have been satisfied with handjobs. Nothing quite like the feel of a woman stroking my cock, but back to my story.



While browsing the ads on Craigslist the other day, looking for suitable escorts/massage parlours, I saw an ad that read 'Men needed to get handjobs from girls, get paid too!'. I laughed, thinking 'bull!' but responded anyway.



A day later, I received a reply indicating that it was an adult film company, looking for men to get handjobs. The message gave me a local number to call. I did, on a lark, and talked with a man who was looking for guys who liked to be jerked off by women. With my experiences at the massage parlours, he said I sounded ideal, but that he wanted big cumshots. I'm not a dribbler by any means, but I don't know if my results always qualify as 'big'. I've been told my massage attendants that I've surprised them with big loads, but hey, they're paid to say that aren't they? He said it didn't matter what I looked like, as the customer is only interested in the girl giving the handjob. Good, I thought, as I'm not much in the body-shape department, short and heading to fat. He asked me if I'd be interested in coming in on Saturday to interview. I said yes, and we ended the conversation. Then, he emailed me on Friday to confirm whether or not I'd be coming, as he wanted to make sure that I'd be available to film. No interview necessary, I thought. Then I tried to figure out how to explain my leaving in the middle of the afternoon to my wife. The experienced bastard liar that I am, I told her I was heading out to take care of some unfinished shopping.



When I arrived at the studio, in an industrial part of the town where I live, I walked in and met the director, a hippie whose laid-back style put me at ease. 'The girl's not here yet. It's her first day, and she's driving in from out of town.' Uh oh, I thought, my time is limited. 'Can you stay?' he asked? 'I'm not sure if I should stay, I'm rather nervous' I replied. 'And I don't have all day, as I had to sneak out'. Plus, inside I'm thinking, do I actually want to do this? Getting handjobs in massage parlours is one thing, but actually being in a film? The director explained that his company, which solely does handjob videos with mostly fully clothed women, is popular in Europe and Asia. He couldn't guarantee me anonymity, as he reserved that treat only for his actors that 'produced' big loads. Now, I'd been saving up since Monday, the last time I'd jacked off. From experience, I know that I'd probably dump out a ton of cum I'm a once a day, sometimes twice guy, so saving up five days is a lot. He agreed to try to limit my face time, and it would be a massage parlour scene. The actress, who was already late, called from the highway exit saying she was five minutes away. The director showed me to the 'massage' studio, and left me there nude on the table. He filmed the girl walking into the studio, and didn't even have her take her coat off, or put her backpack down. Her name was Evangeline and she said hi. I grinned and said hi back. She was short, blond, pretty with blue eyes. She was wearing an attractive red coat, and had a sports backpack slung over her shoulder.



'All right, you'll be the massage attendant on your way out, who has to fill-in for an attendant who had to leave. But you want to catch your bus. So he's got two minutes, and skip the massage and just start jacking him off' the director told her. I hope I can last two minutes, I thought, staring at this hot girl who was about to pull cum out of my cock.



The director got his digital camera ready, turned on the studio lights, and said 'Go!' That did it. I was in a porno. She walked in, said her lines about needing to leave, and rolled me over. My dick was still soft as she poured baby oil, using her still-cold hands to massage my hardening cock. She rubbed my balls gently with one hand while she rapidly stroked by shaft. The director was standing right beside the massage table, zoomed in close on her hands and my cock. She began pumping faster, holding her hand above my cock. 'Move your hand, so we can see the cum' the director said. She laughed, and moved it away, and resumed caressing my balls. I was filled with mixed feelings of 'I'm in a porno, I'm in a porno, what have I done?' to 'Am I crazy?' and 'Wow, that's feeling damn good!'.



'Tell me when you're going to cum' she said, and kept pumping hard and fast. 'Hurry, I don't want to miss my bus!' she said. I told her not to worry, and get her bus pass ready. I was surprised that she wasn't really a superb technician when it came to manipulating my cock (I prefer more action centred around the head and glans) while she worked more the base of the shaft. But preferred technique or not, 5 days of natural urges took over, and I grunted 'I'm going to cum'. Seconds later, I erupted in a fountain of cum, while she kept pumping my cock hard and fast. 'Wow, that's big!' she said 'it's still going!' as she continued to pull ropes out of me. I felt like my insides were coming out. She stopped, wiped her cum-covered hands on my leg and said 'See ya'. And walked out of the shot. The director zoomed in on my cum-soaked cock, still hard, as it twitched in its final spasms. 'And we're done' he said, shutting the viewfinder closed. He left with her to set up the next scene with another actor. I cleaned up with some handy tissues, feeling waves of guilt and worry washing over me as my post-orgasm bliss washed away.



I signed some papers before leaving, took an envelope with two 20 dollar bills, and left. I used the money to buy supper to take home, and cried half-way there.



Did I make a mistake?

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