Paul and Debbie Winters had a perfect marriage. Their only child, a teenaged son, lived on-campus as a freshman at state college and they no longer lacked extended privacy in their home. The Winters were not rich, but Paul made a comfortable living and they had the money to fulfill their interests. Paul's interest happened to be recording some of the sex sessions he had with his wife. Toward that end, over the years he had eventually accumulated several video cameras, as well as the computer and programs that helped him take a raw disjointed session and, over a period of weeks, refine and distill it to a seamlessly smooth production rendered back onto videotape or placed on a compact disc and sometimes both. Not for sale or trade of course. No, just for his personal pleasure--hell, the fun was in the creation and editing of his productions and he didn't need any one else to appreciate his artistic efforts. His wife, Debbie, had little or no interest in the technical side of his work, except as far as she was always the star either alone or with Paul. Sometimes, Paul would pop a videotape or CD in and they would watch it together. It had led to some intense love-making. Anyway, to date, Paul had ten separate tapes and disks, covering the last ten years of their lives together. The first six tapes contained short vignettes and separate sessions taken at different times, while the last four had been composed of one night's activities. Tonight, Paul intended to add a fifth session and that is why Debbie squirmed in trepidation.

If Paul had his penchant for voyeurism and videography, then it could be said that Debbie had her own sexual interest that had strongly fed into Paul's passion. Over the years of their marriage, Debbie and Paul had over time identified her own interest in sexual humiliation and control. Starting slowly with being "overpowered" or maybe a light spanking, they had come to realize that she got quite a kick out of these types of activities. And Paul had been more than willing to indulge her interest and expand their sexual horizons until he had a woman who would do just about anything and, deep down, secretly wanted to be made to do it.

They really didn't discuss their situations much with each other. And truth be told, their corresponding interests in humiliation or voyeurism didn't come into play in their normal sexual lives--who had the time or inclination to tape every sexual encounter? Paul didn't use Debbie as his "slave" and they didn't have a master-slave 24/7 relationship going. No, their sex life was pretty regular, all things considered, and taping a session was a rare thing. Oddly enough, it was Debbie who gave the signals that let Paul know she was interested in making another "movie". Through subtle signals, rubbing up against Paul, or holding his cock while he urinated, or maybe just evincing a general playfulness, Debbie let Paul know that she was up for a bout of nasty sex. Knowing that Paul was videotaping was a huge turn-on for her, even though she knew that Paul didn't share his work with the outside world. And the things he did to her and "made" her do to herself or to him were very naughty and a powerful aphrodisiac to her. But somehow, asking Paul for a session would kill much of the thrill for her, so she relied on Paul picking up her signals and choreographing an evening's activities for them both.

Debbie Winters was forty-three years of age, with tousled blond shoulder-length hair and the face of a pretty mother. She appeared to be a classic "Soccer Mom" driving her ridiculously expensive sport-utility vehicle around town. She was five foot seven and had kept most of the beauty of her younger days, although she had to diet constantly and exercise like a maniac to stay relatively trim. Her heavy breasts, once-proud 36C cuppers, probably wouldn't be confused with those on an 18 year old, but what could you do? Her behind, which Paul sometimes massaged in his sleep, may have started to fall a bit, but it never failed to engage Paul's attention when they made love. Debbie had a few little stretch marks on her from her only pregnancy sixteen years ago, and she chose not to wear a bikini at the beach, but her tummy was as shapely as could be expected and it certainly didn't bulge badly or anything like that. She waited anxiously on the couch in a short white terry-cloth bathrobe, (Paul didn't go in much for lingerie or anything else time-consuming); her hair pulled back into a cute blonde pony-tail. ......(cont)