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Seven Minutes (18 April 2009)

She and I had not expected to see John at the club that night, but we were glad to see him. As the evening progressed, the Red Bull and vodkas took an increasing toll on my sobriety (and my memory), though I am sure that she left my side only once, for about seven minutes when she ran to the bathroom. John had gone to get us one more round, so for that brief period I was alone. I can't remember exactly what I was thinking about then, but it wasn't that important.

[The cctv tape is black and white. No sound, but a small time and date code in the lower right hand corner.]

It's not a stormy night, but it is dark. The wall behind the club is light brick. The pavement is wet. The two of them emerge from the darkness. His back is to the wall and she's facing him.

She's kissing him. Right hand, around his head, pulling him into her. Her kisses are urgent, she's jamming her mouth into his, cradling his head and reaching, stretching herself to reach him. His hands slip underneath her shirt, lifting it, showing just a flash of her bra. Her kisses are deeper and more urgent, her short blond hair swirling as she crosses her hands behind his head.

He's much busier. His hands slip onto the small of her back and then plunge into her pants, and he feels her ass. He's not there for long, and his hands, swiftly move back to her front, down, across her stomach and back into her pants, disappearing into the front, seeking to touch her.

The precise moment of his discovery is ascertainable as she throws back her head, draws in a breath, and melts back into him.

[We're only two minutes into the tape. I don't know how much I can take.]

He slowly turns to his left, hands reaching forward to cup her breasts, then snaking under her shirt and bra. She pivots, her back against the wall, as he undoes his belt. Then she's reaching under his shirt, into his pants and she pulls out his cock, stroking it softly. She then pulls him toward her, kissing him furiously, pulling up her shirt so that her belly is exposed and she's rubbing her self up and down on him, then she's kissing him again. The camera zooms out.

[Three minutes. Her motor's running and he's got the only key she needs (or wants).]

Zoom back in. He moves back from her, and now she's untying or unbuckling her belt, struggling with her button at the top of her pants. At the top of the screen, there is a brief flash of her smile. She fumbles with a button, touches the top of her zipper, then moves her hands up to her shirt, pulls it back down over her midriff, and reaches up for the back of his head. Her mouth leaves his and she whispers in his ear, and then goes back to making out.

Her pants fall of her hips, and her hips are bare. Her underwear is down and stretched between her legs. His left hand jumps to her pussy, stroking, petting, pulling He's spreading his leafs for leverage, and then he steps to the side. His palm up, his fingers curling into her pussy, come hithering her into coming. His thumb on her thigh as she bucks toward him, her ass pushing her pussy forward for him. He moves away for a moment and she pulls him back, desperately.

[Four minutes. Only four minutes and its looks to be his pussy now. She has given it to him, unconditionally and irrevocably.]

His cock peeks out from under his shirt. Poking her belly, she glances down lustfully. Her pants and panties have slipped below her knees. She staggers forward, he frog-marches her up against the wall. She turns, presents herself to him, bends forward and reaches out toward the wall. He's adjusting himself, plunging into her. Her rounded upturned ass is beautiful, and he bathes his cock in its fleshy whiteness. He's thrusting, steadily, she's bouncing back against him. Her palms, on the bricks, form into fists as pistons into her, her eyes upturned, calling out to him, mouthing the same word over and over.

[Six minutes. She's calling out to him and while I cannot determine all of it, the words "more", "John", "fuck" and "me" are quite clear.]

He's pumping into her now, and then he thrusts once, twice and lurches into her as he comes. Her expression is a mask of pure pleasure, her eyes white in the camera. He's pulling up his pants, she's pulls up her panties, wiggles into them, adjusts them in her crotch, and then pulls up her pants and wiggles into them. She turns and kisses him one last time, and then she darts out of frame, and he follows quickly.

[Seven minutes. The alleyway is empty once more.]

She and I had not expected to see John at the club that night, but we were glad to see him. As the evening progressed, the Red Bull and vodkas took an increasing toll on my sobriety (and my memory), though I am sure that she left my side only once, for about seven minutes, when she ran to the bathroom. John had gone to get us all one last round, so for that brief period I was alone. I can't remember exactly what I was thinking about then, but it wasn't that important.

Finis.

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