"I didn't watch that particular video. I am pretty sure it was yours, though."

"There are many available on the internet, Honey. Different days, different camera angles."

As the tintinnabulation of coin jingles and slot machine jangles harmonized around us, I observed the woman eating lunch with me at our table in the sandwich market. She was clearly abashed about her online activities.

"Barb, I think it's cool."

She blinked at me, her wavy, red tresses framing her beige cheeks. "You do?"

"I have not done anything like that myself, but I approve."

A smile grew on Barb's face. "I feel like the other conference spouses were judging me."

"You mean dildo sucking Christine and tongue in the booty hole Deb?"

She chuckled. "Those two have their kinks, but they haven't filmed themselves for strangers."

"That you know of. They may have found naughty inspiration after we watched those sweaty men dancing in g-strings last night.”

“You didn’t hear this from me, but Deb got quite stimulated. While we were tipping that waiter in the cowboy hat and chaps, she was rubbing her crotch through her pants, under the table. Really going at it, hoping no one saw.”

“Deb, that minx. Also, we're in Las Vegas. Debauchery that you and I could not imagine is probably occurring two feet away from us, behind this wall." I knocked on the plasterboard.

"Most likely," Barb agreed.

Someone knocked back.

"Oh!" I yelped.

"If the pantry's a-rocking."

"How did the MILF selfies start for you?" I took another bite of my chicken wrap.

"I got bored one day. Which is nutty, Honey, because I am so busy all week with my job and my family. You met my husband Pete at the conference welcome breakfast yesterday.” 

“Nice guy.”

“Sometime early last year, I took a vacation day by myself, no husband, no kids. I clicked on a women's health news article and stumbled onto a thread about lonely housewives, despite my not being lonely or a housewife. And boom, a treasure trove of women like me in their 40s. Not just sharing naked pics of themselves with each other, but basically instructional videos of how they like to make themselves orgasm." She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was listening to her.

I assured her, "No one cares, Barb. I do, but I bet that lady who just ordered a Cobb salad is hiding a dungeon in her backyard shed."

She continued. "Seeing them proudly sharing their bodies made me consider mine with less condemnation." 

"You didn't like your body?"

"I thought my figure was average. Don't most women have some aspect of their physical appearance that they abhor?"

"No," I stated emphatically. "Other people, maybe. I don't."

"Well, obviously. You are dazzling."

"Me?" I pooh-poohed her admiration.

"Yes, you, Honey." She eyed my zaftig form in the touristy gear I rarely had a chance to wear at home."

"So then you hit record?"

"I started low risk. A photo of me in a sweater and skinny jeans, no face of course."

"Of course."

"The picture got a positive response. The next one was me in a sports bra and yoga pants. It generated more comments. Then a green tank top with no bra and hot yoga shorts.”

“I like yoga.”

“I prefer aerobics,” Barb simpered, “but the outfit was well received by my new fans, especially since the shirt was thin and my nipples…”

“I can imagine.”

“So took another photo, this time with a white tank top and white panties, but I forgot to take off my white socks.”

“Did the fans like the footwear?”

“They loved all of it. I got my first guy saying that he jacked his cock to me. I also got a private message from a female fan telling me that my pictures made her aroused.” Barb was breathing deeper.

“I can understand where she’s coming from.” I bit into my macaron.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Next stop was a video. I wore the same ensemble, only teasing through my clothes. I was nervous about recording, anxious about posting, and spooked about other people watching. And then, the finished product was uploaded. The internet didn’t break. The world didn’t end. The only difference was, I gained more fans. And they wanted more of me. So I kept going.”

“Good for you!”

“I never told Pete. I don’t know if he would understand. The conversations I was having with the viewers and the other posters... The men almost always comment in public about their dongs. The women are usually more private, more intricate. Both turned me on.”

“When’s the last time you filmed one?”

“Not for a while, too hectic with planning to travel here.” Barb finished her meal. “I was actually considering setting up a scene on this trip, while Pete was out learning about in-store displays.”

“Maybe tomorrow?”

“Or today. After lunch. Before the afternoon tea, Christine and I have scheduled for us spouses, while this grocery conference lumbers on for our partners.”

I took a sip of water. “So, you plan to record soon.”

“Honey, you seem well versed in finding your own pleasure. Has the thought crossed your mind? Taking your own masturbation selfie?”

“Before this Vegas visit, no. So not me. However, now? I am curious.”

Barb stood up from the table. She held her hotel room key between her thumb and forefinger. "Would you like a demonstration?"

…

"This room looks like mine, same layout." I followed Barb past the closet and leaned awkwardly on the wall.

"I have never done this with a live audience before."

She disrobed surprisingly quickly and searched in a suitcase for her on-screen outfit. Once her bare chest was exposed, I was almost positive Barb was the woman in the video I found. When she donned each of the white cotton pieces, that thought was confirmed.

I showed her my phone. “Here’s what popped on my laptop screen right before I called you.”

Barb tapped the thumbnail. “That’s me! One of my most popular scenes. But you didn’t watch it?”

“By then, I was wiped out, after buffing my muffin to someone else’s playlist. Val, that was her name.”

“Val is awesome! We receive loads of requests to do a redhead mutual masturbation together. The thought of me rubbing with another person--aside from Pete--it’s overwhelming. So, wait. You were playing with yourself? Right before you called me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get dressed before you dialed?”

“No.”

Hands on her hips, Barb surmised, “You were talking to me naked, Honey?”

Disquieted, I spent way too much time shoving my phone in my pocket. “I was wearing a hair bonnet. And a pajama shirt. It was open.”

“No bra?”

“Nope. Breasts were on display. Albeit, for no one, except me.”

“I bet you have great nipples, Honey.”

“I know you have great nipples, Barb.” What was I saying?

Her fingers traveled to the front of her top, which was distended by her chestal region. “They feel great.” 

"I was wearing socks, too!" I shouted, looking for a place to sit. "When I touch myself, I put them on my feet occasionally. Because I am basically naked, so I'm cold."

"And the socks help keep you warm. Logical."

I ambled across the room toward the window. I sat down in the desk chair, convinced I was overdressed in my denim shirt, cargo capris, and tennis shoes. Ironically, I looked more like a mom than the actual mother adjusting the tripod for her MILF video.

"The equipment quality has improved since my first photo. I still use a phone, but this one is an upgraded burner with an abundance of storage." She removed most of the layers of the king-size bed, leaving the fitted sheet and pillows.

I mulled rolling the chair away from the window and closer to the door, in case I lost my courage and needed to make a hasty exit. But Barb was taking advantage of the sunlight streaming through the translucent curtains to illuminate the set. Therefore, due to the camera placement, the desk was the safest place for me to sit.

“Ordinarily, to spark the mood, I find an erotic story to read.” She ran her arm across the tops of the dressers, sweeping any unnecessary objects into the drawers. “For some reason, this afternoon, I’m ready to go. Very ready.”

“Good!” I yipped as if a snake had bitten me.

She checked the angle of the lens, then announced to the room that contained no other people but me, “Rolling.”

I heard the beep, indicating recording had begun. 

She reclined on the mattress, rested the back of her head on the strategically arranged pillows, and stared peacefully at the ceiling.

In a cozy state, Barb peeled her undies down her legs. She dipped her left ring finger in her fuzzy valley, drew it from her folds covered in ooze, then put that finger in her mouth and sucked it, letting her tongue circle her rose gold wedding band.

I could feel my valley oozing as well.

She raised the hem of her shirt over her right titty, then the left, letting her areolas crinkle in the cool air.

I removed my sneakers and got comfortable near the desk, letting my hands drift toward the khaki fabric of my pants.

She gave her left breast a massage and clamped her right hand on her mound.

Unconsciously, the heel of my hand kneaded my crotch. Then my fingers got involved.

I noticed Barb noticing me.

She caught me teasing my clit through my pants. Delighted, she squeezed her juicy puss. 

Flustered, I sat on my hands.

Emboldened by my lustful behavior, Barb scrambled out of her top, tugged the ribbed cotton from her henna tangles, and tossed it directly at my nose.

It landed in front of my toes, but I got the message.

Clad only in her footwear, she returned to her damp ministrations, one hand on the clit, one hand in the slit. Her hips gyrated on the sheet, her thighs shaking, her knees bending. 

She croaked, “I’m gonna…”

I blinked without saying a word.

Her body quaked. She whimpered.

I bit my lip to stay quiet.

Barb's orgasm grew so powerful that her left leg kicked over the tripod.

Instinctively, I leaped to my feet. I rescued the apparatus from the floor, matched the tripod feet to the divots in the carpet, with the previous angle that kept her face obscured, and tiptoed back to my perch with the camera rolling again.

When Barb undulated into her second climax, I crossed my right thigh over my left, creating friction as I rocked furtively on the mesh seat.

She relaxed, elated. Her nude physique rose and fell with her deep breaths.

As her labors ceased, my exhilaration grew, indicated by the pulsing in my outer and inner lips and trembling in my knees.

She clicked the camera off. "Need a pair of socks?" she jested, enjoying her solo afterglow.

I halted my movements. "Thanks, I'm good over here,” I replied with my palms clasped together.

"How about a dildo?"

My voice caught in my throat. "I'm not really a plastic dong kind of lady. More of a vibrator enthusiast."

Barb tapped her nose as she silently ruminated on an idea.

I remained frozen in the chair.

She typed a series of messages on her non-selfie phone. Then she told me, "Ten minutes."

"Is something supposed to happen?"

"I placed an order with the concierge," Barb purred, pleased with her ingenuity. "A gift from me to you."

Nine minutes later--during which I had not moved a muscle--Barb donned a bathrobe to answer a knock at the door. 

She slipped the delivery woman a cash gratuity and returned with a white cardboard box.

"The Pixie-Bob Prime," Barb declared, as I pulled out the peach-colored, electronic device. She handed me a baby wipe to clean it. "A self-care item worth every penny."

"Should I hand this to you while you record Part Two?"

Amused, Barb fetched her own brown toy from a drawer next to the mini fridge. "I'm more of a dildo enthusiast." She untied the robe.

I examined the Prime's extra-long electric cord. "Then what should I do with this vibrator?"

"There is an outlet near behind your feet." Her robe dropped to the floor. "Enjoy the show." 

I had a decision to make.

My new friend had already made hers.

Buck naked, except for the socks, Barb crawled across the mattress, pressed the red button, and lay back on the pillow pile. Her mussed hair surrounded her head in a voluminous, tawny crown. She closed her eyes. Her fingers tenderly explored her body, beginning with her shoulders, her collarbone, her full breasts, her light brown areolas. She lingered on her hard nipples.

My fist gripped the base of my brand new vibrator. I wondered if she was caressing those tits for my benefit.

Her brown eyes popped open. They focused on me. Barb flicked those nips, cooing with contentment.

I plugged in my gift.

Barb kept up her breast play. "Keep going," she mouthed.

Was I really going to do this?

I placed the cylinder-shaped toy on the desk and shucked my pants. I smelled the wet patch in my cotton briefs before I saw it.

Barb pointed at my shirt. 

I remembered that she had locked the door, and the workshops downstairs would continue for hours, so it was unlikely that her husband Pete would walk in and catch us.

I undid my buttons, shimmied out of the denim, and reposed in my underwear.

She applauded softly from her prone position.

I knew the bra was next, but my reluctance prevented me from moving forward. This was unfamiliar territory. It was one thing to attend a private sex show. It was another to perform one of my own, for someone who was not my partner.

Barb averted her gaze, sensing my intimidation. Her digits traveled to her fiery bush, preparing her cavern for her lifelike object.

I pressed the Prime's on button. 

Barb heard the buzzing but said nothing.

I angled the shaft against the wet spot on the fabric.

Barb picked up the dildo, deepthroated the dark shaft, and then stuffed that dick in her puss.

"Yes," she hissed, eyes closed.

I pulled my panties to the side, exposing my puffy lower lips. I put the head of the vibrator on my clit. “Oh yeah,” I breathed.

Barb watched me slide her present inside me, an inch at a time, while she pumped her own vag.

My knee hiked over the arm of the chair, I worked the Prime deeper in my canal. My lady cum dripped through the mesh of the seat and leaked onto the carpet.

We gawked at each other, enjoying our soaking wet pleasure together, getting hotter the more we rubbed in front of another woman for the first time. As we grunted, I knew the camera would pick up our symphony of sounds, her dildo squishing, my vibe reverberating in the background. Barb would have some explaining to do for her fans.

The Prime head smacked my spot again and again. It was too much to bear.

“Ay yi yi.” I fought to balance on the desk chair as my thick thighs shook, my hips bucking, my quim trembling as my body released the gratifying tension.

Barb reached her peak with a melodic crescendo. But she didn’t stop.

Fueled by the novelty of masturbating with a female friend, we both continued touching ourselves, making our bodies feel good as we eyed each other. I had a feeling we could have proceeded for hours, eventually escalating past solo play, if Barb hadn’t noticed the time.

She gave the camera one more good cum before she shut it down.

“The tea,” she murmured.

I sprawled on the chair, my limbs weak, my panties wrecked. “It would be suspicious if we both didn’t show up.”

Barb eased the toy out of her pussy.  “What did you think of all this?”

Enervated in my underwear, I struggled to find an accurate descriptor in my vocabulary. “Illuminating.”

She turned the tripod with the screen in my direction. She pressed the playback button. "Tomorrow morning," Barb wheezed, winded from her physical challenge, "this is you."