Archive for April, 2006
Three friends mix their unusual pleasure with business
Friday, April 28th, 2006Dylan Saunders sat back into his overstuffed leather recliner, in the darkened den, watching the final minutes of his latest production unfolding on the screen of his expansive television. On the screen, twenty year old Trish Abrams, a slim, petite redhead, with thin, wire-rimmed glasses, sat nude atop a toilet, her face, a contorted mask of determined effort. A sound, like that of crackling fire logs, soon emitted forth, ending in a final muffled thud, as Trish released a long-winded, conclusive grunt.
Gasping slightly from the exertion, Trish slumped, pushing her delicate glasses further up the bridge of her nose with one finger. She remained seated atop the toilet for a while more, looking around her, but seemingly acting oblivious, while the camera continued its jerky movements, spanning in for closeups of her body, as its unseen owner circled slowly around her.
Finally, Trish raised herself from the toilet. She was rather diminutive in stature, her physique almost devoid of feminine curves, making her seem almost boyish in appearance, had it not been for her wavy, cascading sheen of fiery red hair. The camera’s capturing lens, scanned her body, scrolling down her small, round breasts, their peaks accented by rosy-pink nipples, dipping down across the flat plain of her belly, ultimately ending at the juncture of her thighs and the nestled, bare smoothness of her perfectly groomed vagina. The exposed expanse of her flesh was covered with a light speckling of freckles, which went as far as adorning the pale globes of her buttocks, displayed in all their splendor into the camera’s frame, as Trish turned around to step aside.
No words were spoken throughout, no contact, whether physically or verbally, was to be established between the female participant and the cameraman, this being done in the purpose of retaining an atmosphere of intimacy, a sense of voyeurism, giving the impression that the participant was alone during these most private proceedings.
The camera then focused on the vacated toilet, zooming in on the bounty of the freshly deposited contents within. The bottom of the bowl, presented a stark contrast of brown against gleaming, white porcelain, a clashing metaphor of pure sanitation and waste, its shades varying from those of rich, dark chocolate to the lighter color properties of toffee. Its textures were just as diverse, a mixture of clustered fragments, tapering off to smoother, lightly creased folds. The heaping mound was an intricate design of accumulated coils, making it almost impossible to discern where one began and the other one ended, with the sole exception of one upraised tip, which protruded proudly above the surface of the murky water.