My goal was to graduate from film school with honors. That meant turning in a stellar final project. So I was chasing a small-time band on tour and shooting a guerrilla-style documentary. I’d captured some awesome footage.

I was also majorly in lust with the lead guitarist, Jules. She was the only member of the band who wouldn’t sit for an interview. But that aloofness just made her more desirable to me.

Jules was very talented. Actually the whole band was great, but she had an extra special something. That rock goddess magic. It made me think fame was coming for her. I could see her rising to amazing heights on the strength of her flashing fingers and ability to wring beautiful, sometimes unearthly sounds from her instrument.

I filmed her from the crowd. She stood on the lip of the stage, backlit, hair flying, sweat gleaming on her lovely face. She wore a midriff-baring shirt, and her tits were sweetly outlined by the damp cotton.

By that point, I’d recorded hours and hours of the group in concert. I’d gotten backstage, and the members had opened up to me about all sorts of stuff. I could already cut everything together to make a captivating visual document about this up-and-coming music act.

But I kept following them, from town to town and show to show. I wanted Jules to talk to me. I wanted some insight into her. Maybe I wanted to make a total fool of myself and tell her how badly I was crushing on her.

I was mostly sleeping in my car as I pursued the band across state lines. But as my trip was winding down, I sprang for a motel room. I got my gear ready to go to the show, and I realized this had to end. My great goal in life was to be a filmmaker, and part of that profession was knowing when to stop fucking filming.

I’d have to take my blue balls for Jules home with me. But at least I would have all that footage of her onstage, the sexy rock diva leading the crowds like a seductive pied piper.

That evening, I was dutifully in the audience, aiming my compact camera at the players under the spotlights. It was a little melancholy, knowing it was the last time for me. The lead singer flashed me a grin mid-song. I’d gotten good interview material out of him.

Afterward, a roadie took me backstage and I made my farewells. Everybody was sorry to see me go. They all wanted to watch the movie when I put it together, and I promised to send a copy. I didn’t see Jules anywhere and shrugged, figuring maybe that was for the best.

When I got out to the parking lot, the crowd was mostly gone. But somebody was standing by my car. My heart gave a leap when I saw it was Jules.

She said, “I hear you’re leaving. For good.”

Jules wore a plain hoodie and slumped, giving no hint of the rock star she was onstage. But she still stirred desire in me, this exotic, unknowable woman.

I started to explain it was time to get back home and finish up my final school year, but she cut me off.

“I’ll miss you,” she confessed. “I liked knowing you were always in pursuit.”

Her eyes glittered, and her lips curled into a smile. The sight of her made my cock uncoil in my jeans.

I said, “I’d still like to interview you. I’ve, uh, got a motel room.”

I could hear how desperate I sounded. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she laughed in my face. But rock-’n’-roll is full of magic and miracles.

Jules said, “Great. Take me there.”

I drove her to the motel in my car. Once we were in my room, I set up the camera with fumbling hands. She sat on the bed because there weren’t any chairs. Desire burned in my veins.

“One thing,” she said. My back was to her as I adjusted the camera stand. “I don’t want any sound. Don’t record my voice. I don’t like how I talk on tape.”

No sound? Then how could I interview her?

I heard rustling fabric and figured she was taking off the hoodie. But when I turned, I found—to my utter amazement and immense pleasure—that Jules had stripped off every stitch of clothing. She sat naked on the bed, her smile bending in a sensual curve. Her tits were rising and falling with her quick breaths, and her nipples stuck out hard and enticing.

I had already hit “record.” My brain was spinning, and I reached to shut the camera off.

“Leave it on,” she said. “Just no sound.”

So I muted it. On numb feet, I approached the bed. I drank in the sight of her, the full measure of her beauty. Her body was stunning, perfectly toned yet soft where it should be.

I was near enough to her that she reached out and unfastened my jeans. Still gobsmacked, I watched as she tugged down my zipper and grabbed my very hard cock. I gasped at the contact. She pulled out my erection and held my rod confidently. Her thumb grazed my cockhead, teasing its sensitive underside. The pleasure had a sizable voltage to it, and there was a real chance I might shoot off then and there, prematurely ruining our encounter.

However, she said, “I want to see all of you.”

I shucked my clothes and was gratified when she hungrily looked me up and down. As she lay back, I climbed onto the bed with her.

Jules slipped herself up against me, and my arms wrapped around her. All of her smooth skin felt incredible. Dizzying unreality gave way to the thrilling realization that this was actually happening. I was naked with my dream girl, and she wanted me.

Our lips came together in a tongue-tangling kiss. I lost myself in the sensual moment. We moaned softly together, and excitement beat through my whole being.

I brought a hand to her tit, sinking my fingers into her soft flesh. I squeezed her nipple between two knuckles, and she writhed against me. Breaking our lavish lip-lock, I shifted down to eagerly suck on her tits. She thrust her chest toward my face and ran her strong guitar-playing fingers through my hair.

Heat rose from her body like morning mist off a magic forest. I detected her aroused scent, and a desperate hunger awoke within me. I was consumed by the desire to taste her.

As I moved down her body and along her flat belly, she locked her knees over my shoulders and forcibly shifted my position. I wasn’t sure what she was doing until my face was hovering above her gleaming pussy. That’s when I realized she was lining us up, so the camera would have the best angle as I went down on her. I’d completely forgotten about the recording device. She hadn’t. Apparently, she wanted this filmed.

That excited me further. But as I put my lips to her pussy, I was overwhelmed by her aroma and texture. Her petals were slick with her wetness. Her flavor rushed across my tongue and down my throat and seemed to touch every part of me. I licked her slit up and down, savoring her taste.

Once again her fingers laced into my hair, pulling hard. I liked how that felt. I searched for her clit, and her throbbing button responded to my probing. A climactic cry erupted from her throat and rapidly rose in pitch. She humped my face as I jabbed softly and repeatedly at her love nub. She shivered, and her juices rushed out like the sea at high tide.

I lifted my damp face, and she seized me and flipped me onto my back. Before I could blink the motel room back into focus, she’d hunkered between my legs and dropped her mouth onto my cock. Her full lips cinched around my cockhead, then the heat of her mouth descended in a flash. Her forehead butted me below the navel, and suddenly, my knob was pulsing in her throat. Her tongue wriggled against my shaft, and bliss hit me like a lightning strike.

She bobbed in an eager rhythm, her head going up and down. Pleasure raced against the current in my veins, and every inch of my skin felt alive.

My eyes flashed to the side, though, and there was my camera, still recording. I’d never filmed myself naked, much less in flagrante delicto. I didn’t let myself wonder what was going to happen to this sex footage.

Jules played with my balls while she sucked me, and that felt good. Her mouth’s perfect suction thrilled me, and a soft growl hummed in her throat.

She broke away before she took me over the top. I didn’t mind. I didn’t want our hookup to end anytime soon. Still on my back, I watched her climb onto me. She set my shiny cock to her pussy’s opening and lowered herself onto me.

It was such a beautiful fit, us locked together that way. Her internal heat and wetness enclosed me. My cockhead speared her inmost place, where pleasures seethed like storms at sea.

She planted her palms on my chest and started riding me. I met her downward plunges with upthrusts of my cock. We moved as if we had been lovers for years—perfectly in sync. I reached up and caressed her tits. Her head tilted back as she released another cry of ecstasy.

We rocked and bounced, and the old motel bed creaked. She slammed down harder and harder on me, and I jammed my cock up into her. This time, I watched as her climax swept over her. It was an aurora borealis of sexual fulfillment, an almost visible light that enveloped her.

Jules moaned as she climaxed. When her body went limp, I caught her and moved out from under her. I set her on her hands and knees, facing away from me. I positioned us so the camera would catch all the action. I wanted it to document where my cock slid into her from behind as I set off pumping in and out of her pussy.

I stroked away like a madman. I fucked her hard; there was no holding back. She’d had two orgasms of her own, and now I needed mine. I hurtled toward the precipice, banging away, and she came with me, thrashing as my jizz jetted into her.

We never saw each other again, but in the years since, I’ve watched that film so many times.