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Barry's Sluts Ch. 01: Suzanna

By: LordOfHell



This story is an interquel to "Ariadne's Dreams", my first series on this site. It takes place after Ch. 02 of that story, and runs concurrently from there until it eventually overlaps the first story's ending. This one takes place from Barry's perspective and describes what happened during his six months in Fresno after he and his mother made love for the first time. I intend this story to be somewhat more serious, and there'll probably be fewer love scenes, at least in the beginning.

Originally, I had planned for this to be Ch.01 of another series, but eventually, the story took off in a direction all its own. For that reason, rather than each installment being numbered, I decided to base its subtitle on the female lead.

I hope you enjoy it, and please, don't hesitate to vote and comment!

-Edited version: 1.1-

******

Barry Garrett had one hell of a problem.

Outwardly, he appeared no different from your average eighteen-year-old: at six feet even, he was perhaps above-average in height, and exceptionally fit, but just like most carefree youths, he listened to headphones far too loud, wore his faded jeans a full pants size too big, and sported t-shirts with famous videogame emblems on them. He was an avid comic book reader, videogame fan, and rock listener. Strictly speaking, nothing distinguished him from any other boy in his age group. And yet, seated on a plane bound for Fresno, California, he felt entirely alone—practically an outcast. Self-centered angst—the belief that no one in the world would understand his problems—wasn't exactly unheard for a teenager, but for Barry, this was not merely a deluded adolescent belief. It was fact.

What was so special about Barry? What problem could he have possibly possessed that set him apart from nearly everyone else in the world?

Simple. He had fucked his own mother.

And yes, she was his own blood mother. The woman who had given birth to him. The woman who had raised him all eighteen years of his life. He had fucked her right in her own bed, and pumped his own potent semen directly into her pussy. She wanted him to do it—hell, she had begged him to do it.

But if so, why did he feel so confused about it?

He loved her with all his heart, and a large reason why he gave a damn about college in the first place was all for her. He didn't even know what he wanted to study for yet—if he'd had his own way, he would have waited a few years before going back to school, maybe getting a shitty little job somewhere until he forged a niche for himself. But, his mother wouldn't hear of it. She wanted him to stay in school so that he wouldn't run the risk of going into debt or getting some girl pregnant and become unable to go back to school later. Plus, she maintained, it was good to go now while most students were still his own age, so he could make some friends.

Yeah, right. Since he'd gone to this stupid school, he hadn't even made a single friend. He hated that school, and he hated that damn city. With all his soul.

For the moment, though, he treasured this plane ride. The five-hour flight from Chicago to Fresno gave him the chance to think things over, to gain a fresh perspective. There was a bit of irony there—his mother hated planes.

Eleven years ago, his father, Stewart Garrett, had died in a relatively short plane ride on a return trip from Philadelphia. Ever since, Barry's mother Ariadne had developed aerophobia—an irrational hatred for planes. She claimed that they had stolen the love of her life from her, and she had begged Barry not to ride one, to pick a school close enough to drive from home.

But he wasn't having any of that. If planes "murdered" his father, then it only made sense that the son "avenge" him, right? It sounded silly, but Barry had seen for over a decade what fear had done to his mother. Losing her husband had made her afraid to get close to anyone. She became more and more withdrawn, until her social abilities were considerably lacking. Barry knew all too well how fear could cripple, how fear could control.

At one time, Ariadne had dreamed of seeing the world—Stewart had been working fiercely at for his company, determined to save enough to travel as a family someday—and then, all of those dreams petered out after his death. In a cruel twist of irony, the money Barry and his mother got from his dad's life insurance would have been more than enough to complete Ariadne's long-held dream of globe-trotting.

But she didn't want any of it now. She had said that without Stewart, it felt completely meaningless. And even if it weren't, she refused to set foot on an airplane. They had destroyed her life once, and she'd never let them do it again.

His mother deserved better, Barry thought with a clenched brow. He refused to let fear beat his family. He would "avenge" his Dad. He didn't care how silly that sounded—it was how he felt. He refused to be beaten by fear.

That was how much he loved his mother. And now, faced with what they'd done, he had to rethink exactly what that love meant. He certainly hadn't planned to make love to her . . . it just kind of happened. He had never thought of his mother in that light before, but now, sifting through his memories with retrospect, he realized that she really was a beautiful woman. Her lengthy brown hair, her soft green eyes, and her curvaceous figure . . . he got hard now just from thinking about her.

He had long since come to one conclusion: without a doubt, he had enjoyed what they did. Sadly, before that experience, he had been a virgin. He had heard that most first-times were supposed to be awkward and clumsy, but with his mom, it was like he had known exactly what to do. At first, he was a bit nervous, but the moment he had felt his mother's velvety lips around his cock, he settled down. He never knew that oral could feel so amazing, but his mother was amazing at it. She sucked his dick like a true wanton slut, and the thrill of seeing his own mother's lips around his erection couldn't be described.

He couldn't believe what he was doing when he followed his naked mother onto her bed, crawled over her, and began feasting on her breasts. He'd never even touched a woman's tits before, and his mother's were so enormous and plump, he couldn't get enough. He relished their plushness . . . how they conformed to his hands each time he squeezed. He consumed them with his mouth, streaking his tongue across her areolae, flicking her nipples with his tongue.

After a while, he barely even registered that it was his mother he was doing this to—and even the odd moment when it struck him, it only charged him with greater excitement. His mother was splayed across her bed, legs spread, with her gorgeous pussy inviting him inside. He could barely stand it when he finally slid in her hole, her pleas to be fucked only driving his lust to the brink of insanity. He could feel her hips angle themselves, helping his cock work itself deeper. The walls of her pussy gripped his cock tightly, forcing him to sink deeper inside.

Her pelvis rotated, finding a smooth rhythm. Her body language urging him to fuck her. Barry couldn't stand more than a few seconds of it. He yearned to fuck his mother, as much as she yearned to be fucked by her one-and-only.

And that's when she said it.

"Take me. Take me and make me yours."

Those words, in that low breathless tone, were impossible for any man to ignore, kin or not. Son or not. She was a woman that needed to be fucked within an inch of her life . . . and he had aims to do it.

Barry lost all reason, giving into his body's needs, lost to the feeling inside his mother's warm pussy. Whether this was right or wrong didn't matter to him; the only thing he cared about was fucking her as hard and rigorously as possible. If she wanted to be treated like an animal, he aimed to please. He mounted her like a stallion and pounded his hips, pushing her as deep against the mattress as he could manage.

She went crazy—he could feel her pussy trickling with every orgasm, and it only spurred him to fuck her faster. He tapped into every possible reserve he could reach, pouring every ounce of energy into fucking. He didn't think, he didn't speak . . . his mind had regressed about fifty thousand years, focusing on nothing but the primal urge to spread his seed in the most requisite pussy available.

And in this case, that pussy belonged to his own mother.

She cried out, called his name, called him 'son', and it only propelled his lust higher. She begged him to cum inside of her.

"But . . . but . . ."

"Please, do it. I need it, Barry. I need to feel it inside me."

Her urging made his balls tighten. His last resistance faded.

"Tell me again, mom. Tell me again."

"Fuck your mommy and cum inside her. Fuck your slut. Cum deep inside her pussy. Fill it up. Fill my pussy with your thick seed. Fuck it all into me!"

And he did. He poured every bit of seed he could into her cunt before he collapsed on top of her, burying his cheek into her breast.

Which had led him here. Now, as Barry sat on this plane, a sense of dread filled him. A nervousness about what that one moment of carnal pleasure would spell for his future. When he had fucked her, it was pure instinct—his brain had turned completely off, and he wasn't within his right mind, so maybe that could have been used as some sort of excuse. Except as he sat now, with total mental clarity, he wasn't worried that would happen again. No . . . he was worried that it wouldn't.

Barry knew right then that he wanted his mother's cunt again. If things were left up to him, he would turn this plane around and fill her with his spunk again right now. He would play with those marvelous tits every single day, and feel those soft, juicy lips on his cock.

But was this even normal? Was it right for a boy to be so in love with his mother's body?

By the time his plane landed in Fresno, Barry knew what he needed to do. He needed to 'grow up'. He needed to evolve himself so that the next time he came home, he would no doubts about what he aimed for. The next time he stepped off the plane in Chicago, he needed to be direct and confident about what he wanted, and he had to expel all shyness and uncertainties. He needed to step off that plane a new man, determined about fucking his mother once and for all.

But, of course, he also needed to know how his mother felt about it all. There was a possibility that, after coming down from the throes of passion, she regretted what they had done, and she would be reluctant to continue. He needed to be prepared for that, as well: to convince her otherwise, if possible . . . and to deal with the disappointment, if not.

******

The university student housing was composed of a community of one-floor flats—effectively, they were miniature homes with a kitchen, living room, and between two to four bedrooms. In Barry's case, he was (un)fortunate enough to live in one of the four-bedroom flats.

The moment he opened the door, the pungent smell of sex slapped his face. Barry turned to his right, finding what was . . . to him . . . a fairly unsurprising sight.

"Heeeeeey! Look who's home!" called the naked Dominic, the first of Barry's roommates. All at once, four other sets of eyes turned to look, each of them on a body every bit as nude. On the couch, straddled atop Dominic, Barry recognized Trena, and behind her, he recognized the bronze buttocks of Andre, roommate number two. And to her left, thrusting his cock into her mouth, was Simon, his third and final roommate.

When Trena recognized him, she bore him a friendly welcome, appearing nonchalant of the two dicks buried in her ass and pussy. "Oh hey, Barry," she said quickly, before Simon once again plugged her mouth with his shaft.

Barry didn't answer—not that there was any reason to. Dom and Dre had begun a rhythm again, and Trena was squealing loudly as Simon fucked her face. The two dicks in her holes slid in and out of her pussy with two different timings. Sometimes, when Dom was going up into her pussy, Dre's was pulling out of her ass. Then, her hips would rise up on Dom's shaft while Dre's dark cock push deep into her rectum. Trena was obviously getting a charge out of it—Barry had seen them in this exact same arrangement many times in the past few weeks.

Barry walked past the living room and into the kitchen, craving an ice cold beer after his long plane ride. Yet, when he swung the fridge door open and peered inside, all he could find was an empty Michelob box.

"Oooooh, sorry, dude," Dom said, even as Trena's tits bounced inches from his face, "we kinda helped ourselves to your shit while you were out. We figured we could replace it by the time you got back from Chi and it'd be no harm, no foul. But, ah, as you can see . . . we got a little caught up, heh."

Angry as he was, Barry was he was far too exhausted and far too used to it to make a fuss.

"It's cool," he said, closing the fridge and heading toward his room.

"Hey, come on man," Dom called out, "I don't want you to feel we wronged you. Come over here and get some of this. Some good pussy'll make you feel better."

"No thanks," Barry replied.

"For real, dude. Trena certainly wouldn't mind another cock over here, would you, baby?"

Trena pulled her head away from Simon's shaft only long enough to say "uh-uh" before she was right back to it.

"Like I said, no thanks," Barry said as he closed his door.

As Barry threw himself on his bed, he couldn't figure out which was worse—that Dominic was perhaps being insincere about the offer, or that he was being completely sincere about it and had no clue how spiteful it really felt.

Three months ago, Barry met this cute little Chinese sweetheart named Trena in his English class, and asked her out. They had some good times every now and again, and Barry thought for sure that he and Trena were going to hit it off and maybe explore a deeper relationship. Slowly, they grew steadily more involved, and one day, he invited Trena over to his dorm. When Trena got here, the rest of the pack descended upon her like vultures. Barry and Trena hardly got to spend any time with each other as his roommates worked their game. Trena, who had arrived already horny and probably eager to give Barry his first fuck, didn't stand a chance. Before she knew it, she was stripped naked, her mouth, ass and pussy stuffed by each of Barry's roommates.

Apparently, she'd hoped that Barry would find it hot, and she tried to entice him to join in. At first, Barry watched, but seeing the mesmerized look in her eye as she drank his roommates' jizz and let them empty in her ass and pussy was, in fact, the deal breaker. He knew then that Trena would never be his again; she belonged to Dominic, Andre and Simon's cocks. From that point on, he had lost all interest in Trena.

But naturally, she still came by at least twice a week, usually in the evening when she knew all three boys would be there. They hardly even spoke a word anymore; things had just become common practice that whenever Trena showed up, everyone just automatically began to fuck.

The flimsy wooden door failed to drown out the guys' cheers and Trena's wailing orgasms. He could hear them as they shifted positions, probably with Simon getting his turn in her pussy while Dom took her ass and she sucked Dre's dick clean. Barry could plainly hear the 'smack smack smack' as one of the boys—from the shouting, it sounded like Dom—pounded Trena's ass cheeks. Her muffled squeals would sound through the dorm, growing louder when a cock pulled out, and then muffled again when another took its place.

"Oh yeah! Cum in my mouth, Andre! I wanna eat your cum, baby!" she shouted. Seconds later, Barry heard Andre's baritone groans as he apparently fulfilled the little slut's wish.

Just his luck, Barry's iPod had run out of juice on the plane, leaving him with nothing to block out the sound. There was nothing left for him to do except pull out a comic and try to read in peace, although Trena's constant screaming over the next two hours certainly made that a challenge.

******

The next day, Barry headed over to the Office of Student Employment at the Administration Building. Since coming up with his plan on the plane ride, he was eager to get it underway as soon as possible. Haste was especially important because he was already in the second half a semester, and if there were even any chances for internships left, they could be gone before he knew it.

When Barry stepped from the elevator, he searched for anything that resembled the office he needed, finally coming across some wide doors which led him to a web of cubicles. It looked like the right place, but there was no way to be sure until he asked the work study seated behind the reception desk.

"Hi," he asked the cute blonde typing at the computer keyboard, "is this the Office of Student Employment?"

"Yes it is," the girl said, taking her eyes away from the monitor and casting her soft blues in his direction. "How can I help you?" She motioned to the chair opposite of her desk, and Barry took a seat.

"Well, I'm looking for an internship," he said, getting straight to the point.

She smiled warmly, a well-practiced smile which showcased her gorgeous set of dimples. It worked like magic on Barry's tension, practically urging him to lower his defenses and feel at ease. Very skillful amounts of eye show enhanced her gaze with a supernaturally sexy glint. Her flaxen blonde fringe, cut into a bob style to perfectly frame her amazing features, was perfectly styled and groomed, with nary an ounce of displacement.

If that weren't enough, the baby blue dress she wore gave a perfect sampling of her round, supple tits through its v-cut collar. She wore the top of the dress so that it fell off her shoulders evenly, granting the observer even more of her cream-colored skin to admire.

Barry had never seen a more provocative creature in his entire life.

"Well, one of our counselors could surely help you with that," she said, answering his request. "Which field are you planning to intern for?"

"Er . . . psychology," Barry answered, not willing to delve any deeper than that.

"Oh," she said with a flash of disappointment. "Actually, I think we don't have any psychology internships available." Her juicy red lips pouted. "But, I could check with our Psych counselor, if you're willing to wait a moment."

"Yes, please do," he pleaded her.

Again, she beamed, her dazzling smile somehow brightening the whole room. She stood from her chair, pushing her obscenely short dress down a smidge, only barely covering her ass, as she disappeared into the maze of cubicles. Barry was unaware of his own actions as stared at the exiting blonde, her hard red heels click-clacking on the laminated floor and her hips swaying as the edge of her dress lifted to peek at her panties. He had only known this girl for about twenty seconds, but he could already tell that there was something strange about her . . . she certainly didn't seem like your average work-study . . . or even the average student for that matter.

By the laws of nature, it shouldn't be possible for anyone to look that sexy.

She returned a few minutes later, her crimson lips once again in a pout. "I'm sorry, it seems we are all out of psych internships. I suggest that you talk to the Director of the Psychology Department to place your name on her list of internship seekers."

Barry's heart sank. "Any idea how long that'll take?"

Her eyes lowered, signaling bad news before she even spoke. "Based on what I know? She'll probably contact you in a few weeks, but you won't hear promising anything until July. Psychology is a popular major at this school, so most of those positions are filled before the school year even begins."


Barry's Sluts Ch. 01: Suzanna



"Yeah . . . I figured as much," Barry said dejectedly.

"Sorryyyyy . . ." she cooed sympathetically. "But if you still need a job, there are several work aid and work study positions available . . ."

"Nah," Barry answered, "I kinda wanted to do off-campus work." The makings of an idea flashed in his head. "Although . . . Maybe there's something in sociology? Or general social sciences?"

The blond lifted a curious eyebrow. "What is your major, exactly?"

"I . . . don't have one yet," Barry confessed. She was becoming more confused by that answer, so he elaborated. "Last night, I kinda got an idea of what I want to do. I just sort of figured that psychology would be the closest thing to it. But, I dunno . . . I guess it could be part of sociology and general social sciences."

"What is it you're interested in?" she asked, her confused expression unerring.

Well, it was now or never; no point in holding back now. "Well, actually . . . sex," he told her. "I want to study sex."

The statement prompted the girl to blink a few times, her heavy, bolded eyelashes flashing at him, presumably daunted by the boldness of his confession. "W-What . . .?"

"I'm just interested in studying the subject of sex," he said again, aware of the irony in confessing this to the incredible pillar of hotness before him. "Sexology, human sexuality, sexual reproduction . . . all of that stuff."

Her eyes darted around a bit at first, flabbergasted by his response. ". . . Seriously . . .?" she asked him.

"Totally serious," he nodded.

"Well, damn . . . other than 'Biology of Human Sexuality' and 'Sex and Advertising', I don't know of any subjects that are explicitly about sex." Again, she pouted at him. "I think you may be in the wrong school for this."

Barry sighed, his worst case scenario coming to pass. "I thought as much. But . . . well . . . I had to try anyway."

The girl was still studying him with visible disbelief. "And you're really serious about this . . .?"

"Yeah," Barry told her again. "Even if I gotta transfer schools or something, this is something I gotta do. I just want to do something, whether on campus or off, where I can kind of delve into the subject of sex."

The girl paused for a brief second before reaching for the post-it notes on her desk, taking a pen in her left hand and scribbling something down upon it. When she was finished, she peeled off the note and handed it to Barry. He glanced at it, reading the name 'Suzanna' and below it, a time and place.

"What is th—"

"If you're serious, show up at the place and time I wrote. But, if you're trying to play games, don't bother. I don't have the time or the disposition to be jerked around." She glared at Barry, her expression conveying how serious she was about those last two statements.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'll be there."

"Good," she told him, turning back to the keyboard and returning to her original task. "And don't tell anybody else."

"Right," he acknowledged.

"Goodbye," she said abruptly. Barry got the hint and made his exit.

******

Some ten hours later, at about 5:50, Barry showed up at the location the girl had written—Manny's Pizza—located on the far side of the campus, near the Gym/Stadium. He was the only customer in the place when he entered, and he declined making an order, which only made the restaurant owner eye him funnily when he took a seat. Barry had no idea why he'd been asked to come here, so he wasn't inclined to order anything or prolong his visit. He was here for one reason and one reason only: because 'Suzanna' had asked him to be here.

And it was hard to disappoint that face.

She arrived less than ten minutes later, refreshingly punctual compared to most college students. She entered and smiled at the clerk, who seemed equally happy to see her. Barry understood why—she was dressed largely the same as earlier, with the exact same red heels click-clacking on the floor. It had been those heels, in fact, that had alerted him to her presence even before she entered the pizzeria. There was a distinct rhythm to her walk, one that had become unmistakable after only a single meeting between the two of them.

The only difference in her appearance now was that she wore a thin white and blue coat made of nylon. The coat was rather unremarkable on its own, but the way she wore it was pretty distinctive. The coat was longer than the dress she was wearing underneath, but only barely, and she kept the top of it unzipped so that the corners fell down around her bare shoulders. The combination served to make her appear completely nude underneath the coat, as her strapless and short-hemmed dress was undetectable underneath. The style made her look deliberately slutty, and she undoubtedly enjoyed the attention she got from it.

When she finally sat at the table, across from Barry, his cock was almost fully at attention underneath his jeans.

"Glad to see you're on time," she told him with a gentle smile.

"Uh, yeah," Barry responded whimsically, barely able to think as he stared at the cleavage she proudly displayed. "Um . . . totally on time."

She giggled at his attention and reached into her purse for a cigarette—completely ignoring the sign on the wall beside them which said "No Smoking". As she lit up and took a huge puff, Barry noticed that the owner wasn't offering a word edgewise. Of course, it seemed Suzanna was counting on that.

"You ordered anything?" she asked him.

"No," Barry told her. "What're you having?"

"Nothing," she told him, exhaling a puff of smoke in a slow, erotic fashion. "I'm kinda on a diet."

Barry merely nodded and held out a polite hand. "By the way, my name's Barry."

"Suzanna," she responded with a soft shake. "Though, I guess you already knew that." She twisted her hips sideways, lifting one of her slender, silky legs over the other while draping one arm over the back of her chair. "So . . . about this 'internship' you're looking for. Why are you looking at 'sex' for it?"

"Those reasons are personal," Barry replied, knowing there was no way he was going to tell her his real motivation. He wasn't even going to head the topic in that direction. Suzanna looked pretty bright. If she got him talking, he might reveal something a little too personal, and Barry had no intention of even hinting what his he and his mother had done. That would be just between them, and no one else.

"That's all you need to know," he finished.

"Really." She sucked on the cigarette once more, staring at him from the corner of her eye. He had piqued her interest—he could see that much. "Well, listen. I did some looking at the office, and there isn't anything specifically about 'sex' in our curriculum. You might be able to find a few classes here and there for a custom major that might sorta add up to what you're looking for, but I wouldn't put too much stock in learning anything really meaningful. Fact is, you're not going to find what you're looking for at our university. Period."

Barry groaned loudly and folded his arms. "You could have told me that on the phone or something. What the hell we doing here?"

She snuffed her cigarette into an ashtray shaped like a compact. "I might be able to help you learn what you want to know another way. But first, I kinda need to know why you're interested in sex specifically as a subject."

"What . . . What do you mean?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Is it something you want to learn because you want an intellectual career in it? You wanna eventually go for your Masters and try to be, like, the next Sigmund Freud or something? Or do you want to learn for the sake of . . . " her eyes scanned him at one sultry glance ". . .your own benefit?"

Barry already knew what his answer to that was, but he mulled it over for a moment or two anyway. Would it be more in tune with his goals to pursue a serious study about sex? Or did it not matter what he learned, or how he learned it?

Which did he value more—the knowledge, or the education?

"My reasons are personal," he told her, once again being as vague as possible. "But, if there's a way for me to learn, even outside of the school if need be, then I'm listening to what you have to say."

She smiled wickedly, her sultry red lips exposing an impossible set of pearly teeth. "Good. Then, I'll get right to the point. I'm an actress. For porn. I work for a major studio down in Los Angeles. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, I drive down there to film and do photo ops. The sessions start at four in the afternoon and don't end until ten . . . sometimes even later. If you're interested, they've been looking for a guy to help out with some minor tasks—setting up props, fetching lunch, that sort of thing. If you agree to come down there with me tomorrow, I'll put in a good word for you, and it's just about guaranteed that they'll hire you."

Barry couldn't believe it—he was sitting next to a real, live porn actress? It wasn't much of a stretch, considering her manner of dress, along with her unbelievably erotic demeanor. The girl obviously knew how to act like a total slut, and even seemed to revel in it. But he had never actually met a woman who had sex to make a living. His mother would freak if she knew that her son was talking to someone that was, for all intents and purposes, a professional whore.

. . . Yeah, the same mother that he had fucked not even a few days ago.

Irony was a bitch.

But this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Barry had no idea what a real porn set was like—he'd watched porn like every other kid his age, but it never really seemed like a "real" thing to him. Silly as it sounded, he'd just as soon assumed that none of those people fucking on camera actually existed in real life, and everything took place in some little fantasy world. The idea of seeing that sort of thing up close and personal gave him a shiver of excitement.

"Well?" Suzanna asked him, fishing or another cigarette.

Barry smiled at her. "Where do I meet you?"

******

He couldn't get the idea out of his head: he had met a real porn actress. Even better, she was gonna take him to her studio. For a minute, he completely forgot that his reasons were that he was going there to "learn". Even if that weren't the case, he didn't think there was any way he would pass this up. It was unbelievable—here he was, only once-removed from his own virginity, and he was about to go and watch professionals do it. If he wanted to become less shy about fucking, this certainly seemed like the right way to do it.

Barry laid up in bed the next day, just thinking about what was to come later. Suzanna had said she'd come by his dorm to pick him up at eleven, and that they'd be making a three-and-a-half hour drive to L.A. She warned him that if he wasn't ready when she arrived, she wouldn't hesitate to leave without him. She also warned him that it was a three-hour round trip, so he needed to be prepared if he didn't get a lot of sleep the following night.

It didn't matter, he assured her. He was going through with this, no matter what.

At eleven o'clock exactly, the door to his shared flat knocked, and Barry raced out of bed to answer. Unfortunately, the first one to the door was Simon, who almost passed out when he saw what was beyond the threshold.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Simon stammered. "It's Christmas, come early."

"Holy shit!" yelled Dominic, rushing to the door beside him . . . immediately followed by Andre.

Suzanna, with a pair of thick sunglasses covering most of her features, stood at the door wearing a suede jacket, unzipped down to her abdomen, allowing her ample bosom to be easily visible. Calling it "cleavage" wouldn't have done it justice—the entire top half of her tits were exposed, only arbitrarily covered before any nipple could make an appearance.

And just as before, from the hips down, there was nothing visible underneath the bottom of her coat, making it totally plausible to the casual observer that this coat was the only thing covering her lithe, naked form. Suzanna was a master at titillation, and she obviously knew how to wear her clothes in a manner that stimulated the erotic imagination.

She paid her three admirers no heed, absent-mindedly twirling a red lollipop on her slick, wet tongue. "Can I speak to Barry?" she asked.

"Barry? Maybe . . . I dunno if he's even home . . ." Dominic said. "But . . . ah . . . you can wait for him inside, if you want."

"Got plenty of room on the couch," Andre chimed in. "And some beer in the fridge." Obviously, he must have forgotten that they drank all of Barry's beer a couple days before.

Suzanna's demeanor remained unchanged as she repeated, "Can I speak to Barry?"

"Yo! Right here!" Barry yelled as he donned his coat, sliding between his braindead roomies. "Pardon me, fellas. 'Scuze me."

Suzanna smiled cordially at the other boys before stepping away from the door and walking back to her convertible. Neither of she nor Barry paid any mind to the trio of jealous glares, although Barry burst into uproarious laughter as her car zoomed away.

As the pair cruised south on Route 99, Suzanna brought Barry's attention to the cooler in the back. Inside, he found lots of bottles of fresh water, in addition to a few cans of beer packed in mounds of ice. "I don't drink beer," Suzanna told him. "Too many calories. But, it always pays to be prepared in case I'm riding with guests."

Barry only chose a water for the moment, relaxing in Suzanna's passenger seat as he admired the view of rural Cali. "I never thanked you for this," Barry said. "You're really doing me a huge favor."

"See if you still feel that way after a few weeks," Suzanna laughed. "Remember, I do this drive three times a week, and sometimes I don't get back to Fresno til six in the morning."

Barry nearly choked on his water. "Six!? It takes that long?"

"Not usually," she chuckled. "We try to get things done in as few takes as possible, but sometimes there's . . . complications. You'd be surprised how difficult it can get to keep an actor's wood ready."

"Haha! You must mean with the other actresses," he joked. "No way a guy loses his stiffy with you."

Suzanna didn't say anything in reply, and it was nearly impossible for Barry to read any sort of expression while she wore those huge, dark sunglasses. However, if he looked close enough, he almost thought that he could recognize the makings of a blush.

"You like Guns N' Roses?" she asked him, switching on her stereo.

"Hell fuckin' yeah," he nodded approvingly.

The rest of the long drive was silent, save for the vocals of Axl Rose.

******

The "studio" turned out to be more like a Hollywood mansion situated on a cobblestone boulevard surrounded by palm trees. The building was at least three stories tall, with a lavishly-decorated exterior and all sorts of props and materials littering the front lawn. Suzanna parked her car amidst a number of trailer trucks, well out of the way of any incoming or outgoing traffic. When the car was stopped, she and Barry exited and he followed her to a side entrance.

As they drew nearer, Suzanna turned to offer Barry a bit of warning. "The director, Clyde, runs the shots on the set. Normally, he's a sweetie, but when we're filming, well . . . he's sort of—"

As if right on cue, the first thing Barry heard when the door swung open was a loud bellowing in a thick Cockney accent. "What the fuck is taking you assholes so bloody long?! I asked for the lighting to be set up twenty minutes ago! You lot can't tell time?!"

"Sorry, Clyde," another man said, fumbling with the wiring on one of the floodlights. "The house has got some weird wiring issues. I'm trying to see if I can work out the problem before we—"

"Hey, sweetheart . . . did I ask for fucking excuses!? Either get the goddamn lights working in twenty minutes, or I'll throw you right the hell off my—Eeeeey, Suzie! There you are, darlin'!"

Clyde rushed to Suzanna and put his arms around her, giving a firm kiss on the cheek. "Oh thank God at least one person around here knows how to be on time and . . . hey, who's this poof?"

Suzanna stepped back and put a hand on Barry's shoulder. "Remember I told you about Barry? He's gonna be our extra hands on the set."

Clyde leaned back and surmised Barry with a glance. "Hey, girlfriend . . . you ever even done a hard day's work in your life?"

Barry shrugged. "Uh, not really . . . no."

"Oh that's just tops," Clyde sighed. "I got another bloody useless set of legs walkin' through my set, and still not one useful pair of hands." He turned toward Suzanna and his shoved a finger an inch from her face. "You vouch for this guy, he better be worth it. He wastes my time, and it's coming out of your pay. Understand?"

"Don't worry, Clyde," Suzanna said, gently gasping his hand and lowering it. "Barry'll pull his weight."

Clyde shot her one last look, emphasizing how serious he was about his threat. As he walked away, Suzanna cast a glance of her own at Barry, emphasizing how serious she was about her promise.

The actual filming didn't start until well after sundown. Suzanna spent hours in makeup and costuming, readying for her scene. In the meantime, Barry made himself useful around the set, first introducing himself to the rest of the crew, and then reporting to the set decorator to get his first assignment. The decorator got Barry to work immediately moving various pieces of furniture and lifting, pushing and pulling several heavy items over and over. Unbelievably, Barry had to have moved the same couch at least twenty or thirty times, sometimes pushing it no further than an inch before the decorator would change her mind and tell him to move it again.

They didn't go easy on him, and Barry was actually glad about it. He wanted to get the worst he could on his first day, so as to minimize nasty surprises later.

Finally, Barry knew they were close to filming when one of the actors entered the room . . . a tall, humongous black man dressed in a football uniform named Sean. Barry had never seen a human being that huge before—except of course, on television and in porno. As the Sean walked to Clyde and asked some questions about his lines, the makeup artist was still adding dabs to the actor's face, even as he conversed with the director.

"No, I'm just saying, theoretically, that it might sound more believable if I called her 'shawty' instead of 'beeyoch'," Sean told him. "I don't even believe anyone uses that word anymore."

"Look, princess," Clyde began, palming his own face, "just do your fucking job and say the lines we paid you to say. You're not going for a fucking Golden Globe here." He callously turned away before the actor could retort. "Now, we've got the 'fuck-er' ready, so where's our 'fuck-ee'?! Gloria, tell Suzanna that if she doesn't get her skinny arse out here in five minutes, I'll come in there for a fuckin' blowjob myself!"

That seemed to do the trick, because not even four minutes later, Suzanna emerged wearing a completely different outfit . . . this time, she was dressed as a typical slutty housewife, complete with a tight violet sweater that outlined every curve of her amazing body and an obscene view of the nipples poking out of the thin material. She wore cutoff jeans which hugged her ass and showed every inch of her toned and sexy legs, along with a pair of blue stacked heels, completing the slutty ensemble.

Barry couldn't help but stare—Suzanna was beautiful, even more breathtaking than usual. Just looking at her made his cock stand at attention, forming a noticeable tent in his trousers. Suzanna seemed to notice, and she flashed Barry a proud smile when she saw him. Then, with direction from the rest of the crew, she stepped onto the set, apparently not phased by the grotesquely bright floodlights pouring in from every direction. Her makeup and costume attendants got everything just perfect while the sound crew lowered the boom mic in place.




Barry's Sluts Ch. 01: Suzanna



"Alright, I want quiet! Everybody to your places! We're shooting in one minute," Clyde said, taking a seat in the director's chair. All of the non-essential crew began to take a step back, including Barry, who kept his eyes locked on Suzanna the whole time, while she crossed her legs on the couch, picked up a magazine, and pretended to read.

"And in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .!"

There was a knock at the front door, and Suzanna, surprised, turned to look. She slowly lifted her ass from the couch, gently flipper hair, and began a slow deliberate strut to the door. She was a master at placing perfect emphasis on her buttocks as she walked, and Barry could see one of the cameramen adjusting his lens so that the shot zoomed in on her behind.

"Who is it?" Suzanna asked in a meek, high-pitched voice?

"Who you think it is?" a deep, penetrating voice said on the other side.

Suzanna opened the door, and the large black man entered. He immediately stepped close to Suzanna and reached for her ass, cupping each round cheek in his big, bronze hands.

"Stop it!" Suzanna protested half-heartedly. "My husband will be home in an hour, and if he catches us, he'll kick me out!"

"Ain't tryin' ta hear that, slut," Sean said, laying on the exaggerated accent, "I don't give no shit about yo old man. You know what I came here for . . . beeyoch."

Suzanna moaned as he squeezed her ass harder, pushing herself into his huge, muscular body, and wiggling her cheeks in full view of the camera crew.

"We could get in so much trouble," she said breathlessly, "if my husband ever finds out I'm fucking a black guy . . . "

"Then you betta hurry up and suck me off, ho," Sean said, stepping back and closing the door behind him. Obediently, Suzanna dropped to her knees and began to undo his pants, fishing for his cock as she unzipped his fly. Finally, it plopped out . . . a long, dark monster that had to be pushing a foot, at least. She paused to admire it, stroking her pale white hand up and down his demon of a cock. She let the camera get a nice, long shot of it before she began slowly sliding her tongue along the thick, onyx shaft.

"Yeah, suck that black cock, you white ho."

Though Barry had already known what to expect, it was almost surreal to watch Suzanna go to work on the other man's dick. Suzanna wasn't just a random slut on the internet . . . she was someone he knew . . . . a real person that he would have to face once everything was done. Sure, he barely knew her, but if their current arrangement worked out, they'd probably see each other a lot more in this working relationship.

In any case, Suzanna went to work on that dick like a true pro. After making the entire length of his pole wet with her tongue, she placed her whole mouth it, bobbing her head back and forth as she furiously sucked his enormous girth. Amazingly, Sean started rocking his hips back and forth, holding the back of Suzanna's head as he fucked her mouth. Suzanna made loud, chortling sounds as the muscles in her throat worked, but she never gagged . . . not even once. It was like that eleven-inch python didn't make a bit of difference.

He could tell she'd had a lot of experience, possibly with cocks larger than this one—if that was even possible.

After about ten minutes of footage was shot, Suzanna stood and took her black lover by the hand, leading him to the couch in the "living room". When they got there, she dropped right back to her knees and went back to work, this time, pulling his pants down to his ankles in one swoop. Sean stepped out of the quickly, leaving a pair of black Timberland boots on.

He lifted Suzanna up and forcefully turned her around, his giant coal hands rubbing her bare hips and stomach as she quickly pulled off her shirt, exposing two firm, perky breasts. Barry couldn't help but lick his lips . . . this was his first time seeing Suzanna's tits in full, and they were spectacular. They were about Cs in size, with a perfect shape and perkiness that simply begged for them to be touched. They molded perfectly as a pair of dark hands cupped them, displaying hefty bounce that the cameras were all too happy to record in detail.

Sean unbuttoned her cutoffs and bent her until her hands sank onto the couch cushions. After yanking her shorts down to her ankles, he stepped behind her and kicked her legs apart, allowing her glorious pussy to be spread for everyone in attendance to see in loving detail. Another camera zoomed in as the man bent on his knees and placed his mouth directly on Suzanna's mound, his lips munching and sucking on her clit. Suzanna moaned loudly, crying out as his tongue toyed hungrily at her sex.

Her hips were rocking slowly back and forth, and she maintained her wide-legged posture, instinctively arching in the perfect position for the cameras to focus on her face, tits and pussy all at once. Barry had seen enough porn in his life to know that Suzanna was giving them some great shots, and again, he was absolutely amazed at her professionalism. For the first time, he could appreciate the hard work that porn actresses put into their shoots, and he could tell that Suzanna was good at her job.

Suzanna and her partner kept this up for almost twenty minutes straight, with the director and other members of the crew sometimes giving instruction as they went. If he told Suzanna to moan louder or look lustfully into the camera, she did it with no qualms. For the sake of fairness, Sean seemed to be doing pretty good at his job, as well, although Barry's attention was hardly on him.

Finally, the director signaled them to go to the next segment, and Sean's chiseled, naked body rose behind Suzanna as he lined his cock with her pussy. Barry held his breath for a moment, just soaking in the sight of Suzanna's firm, naked body bending in front of a eleven-inch ebony cock. This was the moment of truth . . . he was seconds away from watching Suzanna get fucked by that monster!

Sean's hips pushed forward, just a little, and Suzanna's pussy lips parted to give his head entry. The walls of her cunt conformed perfectly to the contour of the cock, fitting it like a glove. Suzanna squealed with glee. Based on the volume of noise she was making, Barry didn't believe she was 'acting'.

Inch by inch of black cock fed into her pussy, and Suzanna took it all like a champ. Her legs wobbled slightly, but she strengthened her stance and thrust her hips backward in readiness. Obviously, having that much cock pushed into her was taking a toll, but Suzanna confidently took it. She absorbed inch after inch after inch until finally, the entire length of that beast was buried in her mound.

"Oh yeah, baby . . . your cock is so big," Suzanna moaned, "It's so much better than my husband's tiny dick. Fuck me with it, lover! Fuck this white whore with your big black dick!"

The black stud wasted no time, jutting his hips back and forth against Suzanna's ass with a fast and tight rhythm. Based on the look on his face, Barry could guess that he wasn't 'acting' anymore, either. Suzanna was one hot woman, and Barry imagined that being able to fuck a pussy that nice would make any man a little weak. Suzanna was throwing her head back, letting her hair whip back and forth as she cried out, screaming her lover's name again and again—or at least, the name of his character.

Barry had to admit, it was starting to get to him as well. Most of the guys on set seemed to be handling things pretty professionally, although most unconsciously hung their mouths open. Barry himself could barely stand it—if he weren't afraid for his job, he would have whipped his cock out and beat it silly right then and there.

They fucked in that position for another twenty minutes straight, with both actors needing to stop and wait for a spell before picking up the pace once more. Obviously, that part would get cut out of the final copy—the audience at home didn't need to know that these people were only human. Eventually, though, Sean had to stop, or else he would cum, so the director called for a recess.

The crew got back to work as the makeup staff attended to the two actors yet again. Clyde eventually called Barry over to him and instructed him to take orders for the crew. Barry did as he asked, grabbing a notepad and going from person to person, asking what they wanted. Eventually, the only two people left to ask were Suzanna and her co-star.

"I'll have a sandwich, please," asked Sean politely. "Ham and onion, with only a little black pepper."

"Got it," Barry answered. He then turned to the still-nude and still-gorgeous Suzanna. "And you, uh . . . what would you like?"

She smiled and said, "Turkey. Hold the mayo."

"Got it," Barry said, returning the smile. As he turned to go, he felt Suzanna grasp his arm.

"How is it?" she asked in a whisper. "Things going well so far?"

"Oh yeah," Barry answered, feeling his hard-on return. "Totally sweet so far."

Her smile widened, and she cast her eyes down, taking note of the bulge in Barry's pants. She didn't say anything, but gave a warm look as he disappeared to fulfill his orders.

Later on, the filming continued, and for the next three hours, Suzanna was filmed being fucked from behind, on her back, on her side, and on top. While bouncing up and down the black man's cock in reverse-cowgirl, she once looked up and locked eyes with Barry, casting him a sultry glance as she quickly picked up her pace . . . driving herself to orgasm, knowing that he watched.

He couldn't wait to get back to his dorm.

******

Filming finally wrapped up at ten-thirty, and Barry helped the crew clean up. With rubber gloves on, he bagged up the actors' used costumes, as well as the couch cushions where their cum stains had fallen. He didn't see much of Suzanna after she went back into the dressing room, but she reappeared close to an hour later, dressed in her regular clothes and sporting a lit cigarette between her lips.

"Hey, I got work at the Office tomorrow, so come on if you want me to give you a ride back," she told him.

"Oh, right," Barry said, tossing a bag of garbage into a dumpster before turning to his supervisor. "Hey, Stan, I gotta take off. That cool?"

Stan gave him a thumbs up. "Yeah, we got it from here. Thanks, Barry. You did aiite today."

"Thanks," Barry said, taking off his gloves and throwing them in the trash. "I'll see you on Thursday."

Barry followed Suzanna to her car and they began the long ride back to Fresno.

For the first twenty minutes or so of the trip back, Barry and Suzanna were both rather quiet. Eventually, the still silence seemed to bother Suzanna, so she punched Barry in his shoulder.

"The hell was that for?" he barked.

"You not gonna tell me what you thought?" she scoffed.

"I thought we went over this already. I said things went pretty cool."

"Yeah, in as half-assed a way as possible. I mean, this was your first porno shoot, right? What did you think of being behind the camera?"

"It was . . ." Barry struggled to find the proper words ". . . it was just . . . incredible."

"Incredible good or incredible bad?" Suzanna pressed.

"Good, of course," Barry thought. "What, you thought I was gonna get scared away?"

"Wasn't sure," Suzanna said with another puff of her cigarette. "Didn't think you'd have the stomach for it."

"Oh? And why's that?"

Suzanna exhaled and presented her cigarette box to him. "Smoke?"

"No thanks," he refused. "Don't smoke."

"And that's why. You seem like a crisp, clean Momma's Boy. Got a bit of a hidden naughty side to you, but otherwise, too pure and innocent. I wouldn't be all that surprised if you were a virgin, in fact."

"Well, I'm not," Barry corrected her, keeping to himself just how ironic the term 'Momma's Boy' was in context to his virginity.

"My mistake, then." She inhaled again, dousing what was left of the butt in her car's ashtray. "But you want this, huh? You want me to keep bringing you down for more shoots?"

"Yeah," he told her. "Told you, it'll take more than that to scare me away."

She nodded. "So it seems. But first, you're gonna need to look through this and sign." She tossed a huge envelope, heavy with documents, onto his lap. "Clyde told me to talk to you, just so we're crystal. You're not allowed to tell anybody what we're doing. Not your family, not your friends, not random people on campus. That clear?"

"No problem, but . . . why exactly?"

"My studio, Stallion Productions, has a non-disclosure agreement. We're in competition with other, larger studios, and our only edge is in niche porn. The interracial scene I just did, and the video I had to do last week with some sixty-year-old guy for 'Old Cocks, Young Cunts' are just some of our tamer gigs. Some of the other stuff we do sorta. . . 'skirts' the laws in most US states, but we're very careful not to do anything really illegal. In short, we see which why the wind's blowing, and we shoot videos that cash in on those trends. You start talking about what we do, and next thing you know, word gets around. If that happens, you get fired, and the studio sues. Get me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Barry agreed.

"Also," Suzanna continued, "I just don't want anybody knowing what I do. Capisce?"

Again, Barry nodded. "Not a problem. Not one soul, I promise."

Suzanna gave one last glance, indicating that she placing enormous trust in him.

"So," Barry said, changing the subject, "Why did you first get interested in this?"

She cast him a sideways glance. "The same reason you did."

Of course, the joke was that he never gave her any reason. Thus, he got the message: 'It's private.'

"Fair enough," he said, "but do you like it, at least?"

"I love it," she answered with a chuckle. "Why? Did you think I was some poor lost soul for you to save, and then we'd both fall madly in love after you promised to 'take me away from all this'?"

"No, it's just that I've got a mental image of a certain scene that I kinda wanna fap to later."

"Ohhhh? Which one?"

"Right when you looked me in the eye, near the end there. I just wanted to know if you came for real, so I can keep that image handy."

Suzanna threw back her head and cackled loudly. "Haha . . . Oh, you don't need to worry there, honey. I almost never have to fake it on the set. And that one was certainly real."

Barry stared out of the window and smirked. "Well, that's good to know."

Suddenly, his entire body lurched to the left as the entire car zipped from the road and onto the shoulder. Suzanna placed it in park and shut off the lights and engine. He was about to raise questions when she leaned over, and her hands went to work on his belt.

"Lay back and relax," she told him as his fly popped open and her fingers fished out his cock. She wrapped her long, slender fingers around his throbbing dick and began massaging the muscle. Almost immediately, Barry was in heaven. Though he'd technically fucked before, he'd never been given a proper handjob in his life—so in this respect, he was still a virgin. Suzanna was astonishingly fast at bringing his cock and balls fully to life. Heat flooded from his crotch throughout the rest of his body, tightening his muscles, slowing his breath, and quickening his pulse.

Her eyes shifted from her work and focused on him. She cracked a self-sure grin as Barry leaned back in her passenger seat, his voice falling to a cracked whine.

"If you needed me to give you a little relief, why didn't you just say so?" she told him teasingly.

Barry didn't reply, nor could he have if he'd wanted to. The pleasure was paralyzing; he hated to say it, but he actually believed that Suzanna's fingers sliding all across his cock felt just as good as his mother's pussy had—even better in some ways. Suzanna knew how to close her entire hand around his shaft, encasing it like a real pussy. She knew how to use every muscle, every centimeter of her hand, to massage his manhood and coax pleasure from it. It was the sort of skill that could have only been practiced countless times, perfected through constant effort.

Even the visual itself was hot. Her lust-filled eyes, her soft red lips, her ample cleavage dangling just inches from view . . . Suzanna was sexuality personified, and having his cock serviced by such a creature only filled his body with that much more fire. He imagined her mouth, her pussy, covering his cock, wondering what it must have felt like.

And then he exploded. His bright spunk shot out from the tip of his erection, spraying like a fountain as he gasped and moaned in uncontrollable ecstasy. Suzanna cheered and laughed, her sultry grin growing as she watched his eruption with wide-eyed joy.

"Damn, you're a healthy thing, aintcha?!" Suzanna exclaimed happily.

"Ah God," Barry groaned, his body still writhing as his orgasm plateaued. "God, that was so good . . ."

"Thank you, honey," Suzanna cooed, giving his cock one last loving rub and scooping abundant gobs of cum into her fingers. Never breaking her gaze, she placed her gooey fingers into her mouth. Slowly, lovingly, she sucked and licked each clean, one by one. It was lewd, it was obscene . . .

. . . and it drove Barry absolutely fucking crazy.

"And you taste nice, too," she said lovingly. "It would've been a shame if that'd gone to waste . . ."

Barry took a deep breath, realizing that his wilting cock was still hanging out openly, surrounded by

Splatters of his own jizz all over his jacket and pants. His modesty returning with a vengeance, Barry scrambled to zip, button and buckle his pants again. Suzanna merely giggled as she started the car.

"A little shy for someone who just shot his load all over my dashboard, aren't you?"

Barry coughed and tried to use the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the specks of cum from his front. "I . . . uh . . . I guess. But, listen . . . that was incredible. Thanks for—"

She lit another cigarette and waved off his gratitude, steering the car back onto the road. "Think of me as a friendly Samaritan. I saw your jeep with a dead battery and decided to give it a little jump, hm?" Once more, she gave him a wicked look that almost stopped his breath. "And I do like big jeeps like yours."

Barry couldn't help but smile as he glanced out of the window a second time. "That's good to know, too."

******

The next day, Barry headed back to the Office of Student Employment. Since he didn't know what hours Suzanna worked, he headed there early so he'd be sure to catch her. When she saw him enter, her eyes went wide, but she quickly regained her poise and donned her professional façade.

"Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the Office of Student Employment. How can I help you?"

"Just wanted to know if I could treat you to some lunch or something," Barry told her, making it clear that he didn't intend to break her 'cover', but that he wasn't interested in role-playing, either.

"Um . . . that's sweet," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "But, I do have a boyfriend."

Barry shrugged. "I'm not asking you on a date, and I'm perfectly capable of being a gentleman. Since you . . . er . . . helped me out yesterday, I figured I could do something nice for you. Besides, I got nothing to do until classes start on Monday. And I don't have a lot of friends around here."

"What about your roommates? Larry, Moe and Curly?"

"You mean Dumb, Dumber, and Dumberer, right?" He chuckled. "They're not friends. We just share space."

"Ah," she said with a knowing nod. "Well, as much as I'd love to be your bestest pal, like I told you, I have a boyfriend. This might not go over so well with him."

Barry rose an eyebrow. "And your other hobby does?"

Her eyes narrowed and her voice hushed to a threatening tone. "That's because it's just a hobby, not anything personal. And I'm not going to talk about that here, so get out if you're not here to talk about a campus job."




Barry's Sluts Ch. 01: Suzanna



She seemed suspect about his motives. It was understandable—with her looks, just about every man she met was probably interested in getting into her pants. And, while Barry certainly couldn't say he wasn't tempted—really, REALLY tempted—he was sincere about that not mattering to him.

And besides that, there was only one pussy that he was duly invested in, and it was waiting for him back in Chicago.

Still, he decided not to keep pushing. If she wasn't interested, she wasn't interested. "Well, just thought I'd ask," Barry said, turning to go. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow . . . "

"Wait," Suzanna called, typing quickly at the keyboard. Her eyes narrowed as she reconsidered his proposal.

"Fuck it. I guess hanging out can't hurt and I could go for some Italian," she said finally. "I'll pick you up again at six tonight. But, if we stay out past nine, I'm gonna have to cut it short. Vic'll be expecting me to come home after that. Also, if he gets mad when I tell him about this, then this is the last time, understand?"

"No problem," Barry nodded.

"Cool. I'll see you at six," she said, turning back to her monitor, and allowing Barry to take his leave.

******

This time, Barry was waiting at the door when Suzanna's convertible pulled up at 5:58 exactly. His roommates tried to convince him to invite her in, but ignored them and just hopped in the car, not even requiring her to a foot outside.

He and Suzanna had a nice meal and decent conversation, although he really didn't feel like they learning all that much about one-another from discussion. The impression he got was that both of them had one gigantic secret that they carefully steered all conversation around, and it prevented any real meaningful exchange. They talked about superficial interests, discussed some of the nuances of her 'real' job, and Barry gave some insight on what his life was like back in Chicago, but that was about it.

Still, something was compelling Barry to get to know the 'real' Suzanna. Sure, she was one hell of a hot slut, but was that the real her? Suzanna said that she did porn because she loved it, but what motivated her to dress and act the way she did off the camera?

Barry admired Suzanna's openness and frankness about sex. It was exactly that sort of attitude he was hoping to adopt for himself before he made his next trip to Chicago . . . before he saw his mother again. The woman in front of him was an enigma. A curious fascination drove him, and Barry had the feeling that cracking the mystery which was 'Suzanna' would give him the answers to all of his personal questions.

But true to her word, when nine o'clock drew upon them, Suzanna called for the check. Barry attempted to take it from her, but she refused. "I make 80K a year, sweetie," she told him haughtily. "I don't think this pebble is going to make much of a splash in the pond."

Seeing she was dead-set on it, Barry dropped his protests, although he wasn't all that pleased. He had just meant to do something nice for her, but got robbed of the chance.

But that was fine, he thought, he would just have to make it up to her some other time.

******

Their next trip to Los Angeles occurred on Thursday, and it was going to be a long one. Suzanna had to go through photo ops and another session of filming. Even more, Barry hardly had any contact with her that day—the crew had him working all over the mansion, doing laundry, fetching coffee, delivering mail . . . it was definitely less fun than the last time.

Still, Barry did his job and then some. Since he was only doing this gig part-time, he felt he needed to make a good impression if everyone was going to come to see him as part of the crew.

They didn't finish until almost two in the morning, and Barry was dead tired on the ride back. Suzanna had to wake him up to push him out of her car when he got back past five, and he barely registered Trena getting her pussy mowed by Andre as he crept past them, crawled warily into bed and slept.

Saturday, they made another trip, and this time things were a lot more interesting. Barry was overjoyed to be working with just over a half-dozen gorgeous women on the set: three blondes including Suzanna, one brunette, one redhead, one asian, and one very dark black girl. When Barry followed Suzanna inside, a few of the women turned to look in his direction, forcing his countenance to a beet red as they stared at him longingly.

"Ooooo," said the redhead in a heavy Slavic accent, "please be telling me that cute boy is one of actors?" She stared at Barry with eyes reminiscent of a hawk stalking a tasty mouse. Before he knew it, he could feel the end of his cock throbbing, pounding inside his pants. She must have noticed too, as her eyes fell and then rose again with a lusty glint.

"Oh, he wishes right now," Suzanna said with a giggle. "Sorry ladies. Barry's just one of the hired goons."

The redhead scrunched her nose and turned her attention elsewhere. "Is too bad."

Today's main event was an orgy scene where the girls outnumbered the guys three-to-one. Barry got to see Suzanna eat pussy and have hers eaten by another woman, and the sight was even hotter than what his imagination had cooked up. He also got to see two of the girls get double-penetrated, although Suzanna got left out of that little activity. She was noticeably disappointed, and decided to settle for sucking one of the guys off while the other banged her hard from behind.

Strangely, although Barry had seen this sort of thing with Trena and his roommates all the time, watching Suzanna do it was like watching a special event. She kept both guys in sync, one thrust into her mouth pushed her deep against the dick in her cunt and then pushing into her pussy made her deep throat the guy in front. It was seamless, rhythmic, and hot as hell.

Three of the girls came and talked to Barry between several takes, and he had a hard time focusing on conversation with their curvy, meaty tits hanging just in front of his face. They eagerly wanted to know if he was considering becoming an actor, and wanted to recommend an agent if he was. With as much willpower as he could muster, Barry told them that he 'would consider it', and with a hypnotizing gleam, they each told him to 'keep in touch' if he did.

He was still visibly worked up during the drive home with Suzanna later that night—thanks to the hassling ladies, he had maintained a constant stiffy for about seven hours straight, and now his cock seemed permanently stuck that way. On the way back, Barry couldn't keep his eyes off of Suzanna, and the more he looked, the worse his problem became. Eventually, he just couldn't control himself anymore.

"Hey, um, S-Suzanna . . . would you mind . . . er . . . helpin' me out again?"

With a strong, triumphant smile, Suzanna forewent all modesty and asked, "Oh, so you want me to jerk your hard dick off again, Barry honey?"

Barry sighed and replied, "Fuck yes."

Suzanna smiled and pulled over, once more turning the engine off and shutting the lights down. This time, she spent more time on Barry's cock, rubbing the tip and using her thumb to toy with the hole. In the meantime, she pulled one of her tits free and began to play with it, lifting the nipple to her own mouth to play with.

She kept Barry on the edge for nearly half an hour, backing off just a little every time she saw he was in danger of coming. She toyed with him, keeping him right at the zenith of pleasure, but only doing enough to avoid letting his nuts spew their load. Eventually, he whined and asked her to make him cum. She teased him and made him beg, and Barry was soon pleading with her to let him get off. Finally, his cock geysered a mass of cum all the way onto the roof of Suzanna's convertible. With no hesitation, she leaned over the passenger's seat and licked the cum from the ceiling and her own hands.

Barry didn't know how much more of this he could take.

******

The next day, Barry and Suzanna had lunch again, and with much better conversation than last time. Barry finally got Suzanna to open up a little about herself, and in turn, he wasn't quite as standoffish about his own personal history either.

"So, tell me Barry, really . . . ." She paused to swallow a bit of crab meat. "Why are you doing this? What do you get out of just watching people fuck on set?"

"Just curious," Barry said, taking a swig of soda.

Suzanna smirked again. "Come on. There's got to be more to it. They tell me you've been asking all sorts of questions, like 'why do they choose this angle?' 'Which position is the most comfortable for fucking?' 'Do women like it better when you fuck or go down on them?'"

"So?"

"You've got an angle," she said, resting her chin on the back of her hand. "Something has turned a sweet Midwestern boy like you into some sort of sexual deviant in the making, and I'm just curious to know what."

Barry took a long sigh. He knew that the more he denied anything, the harder Suzanna would press. It was becoming harder and harder to keep the truth from Suzanna. The way her gorgeous blue eyes looked at him, he almost wanted to confess to murdering Jimmy Hoffa. He supposed that there wasn't any harm in telling her just a little bit, but keeping the juicy details to himself. Like he'd told himself before, what happened between his mother and he would be just their little secret. Just something they shared between them.

"I lost my virginity a few days before we met," he told Suzanna, "back in Chicago. It opened my eyes to a lot of things I hadn't been curious about before."

"Damn, and I thought you were lying about having your cherry popped," Suzanna laughed. "So who was she? Did your first time suck or something?"

"No!" Barry said defensively. "At least . . . for me, it didn't. For her . . . I don't know. But, that got me to thinking."

"Aaaaah," she said with budding realization. "You're afraid you didn't fuck right, so you're trying to get some pointers."

"Kind of. That might be part of it, I guess. But really, I just want more experience with everything sexual. I still . . . I still feel a little awkward and shy around her, so I want to know everything about sex so that the next time I go back, I'll know how to pick up on a woman's signals, how to know if I'm hitting the right spot, and how to spice up things in case vanilla sex gets too boring. I just don't feel like trying my hand in the field again until I've got a decent playbook."

Suzanna's eyes narrowed and her smile tightened. "You're in love with this woman, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he shrugged.

"And she's an older woman isn't she? Possibly over 30, even?"

Barry swallowed, trying his best to keep his shock hidden. "What makes you think that?"

"A reasonable guess. If you're this worried, this girl sounds like she's got more experience than you and probably knows what she wants. You're afraid that she sees you as a kid, and you're desperate to prove otherwise. You want to be a MAN. A tall, strapping, confident man who's going to fly back to Chicago and rape her pussy something fierce. Am I on the right track?"

A little too much so, Barry thought. "Y-Yeah."

"Well, let me give you a little hint, sweetie. If you love this chick, you'll have to find something more between the two of you than just fucking. That may last for a while . . . a good while depending on the man and the fucking, but eventually, she'll worry if there's more between you than that. It might not be for a few months. It might not be for a year. Hell, it might not be for a decade, but it'll happen. If you just want to fuck her and have some fun for a while, that's one thing, but if you're trying to make something permanent between you two, you'll have to forge a relationship beyond just laying the good dick. You two will have to almost be like family."

Barry smiled. "Thanks. I'll work on that."

"Good. I wish you the best of luck, hon," she said as she began playing with her food again. "You're a really sweet guy. If I'd met you a few years back, before I got with Vic, I'd be pretty damn interested myself."

Barry was happy that the conversation shifted back to her before she could figure out anything else. Suzanna was smart . . . very smart. In the short time he'd known her, he'd learned how good she was at reading people and figuring out how to coax them to her desires. She had more power than the director did on the set, and just as he'd noticed at the pizzeria a few days ago, she tended to have no problem bending or breaking the rules whenever she chose to. Most guys were too busy wiping their drool off the floor to even bother challenging her.

He needed to watch his step when he said something around her from now on. From the way she looked at him when they spoke, he could tell that she saw him as every bit as much of a mystery as he saw her. She became more lewd and provocative whenever he backtracked from her questions, and did subtle things to try to lower his defenses. A bra adjustment here, a lick of the lips there, a wiggle and reposition of the seat here . . . she was so subtle about it that at first, he didn't even notice when it happened to him. But seeing her do it to so many others had given him more clues to look out for. But, judging by tonight, it seemed that he hadn't figured out all of them yet.

And that was one of the reasons he enjoyed being in Suzanna's company so much. He was learning a lot about picking up signals and sexual body language from her alone. Not just when she was fucked, but in everyday life as well. He was sure some of it wasn't applicable to all women, but he was figuring out enough to build a general understanding. Suzanna was raw lust in its distilled form, and understanding her inherently helped him understand sex in general.

But now that the conversation had shifted away from him again, he figured it was time to ask her some things directly.

"So, now that you know my reasons for being interested," he began, "why don't you tell me how you got into porn?"

"Oh, it's not interesting at all," she dismissed as she chewed. "In fact, it's outright boring."

"So then why not tell it?" he asked. "I'm the only one besides Victor who knows about your secret life, right? I'm the only person who gets to see both of your worlds. So why pass up an opportunity to tell a story you hardly get to tell?"

She shrugged. "Alright. Well . . . you know Victor? My boyfriend? He got me started with it. Took some home videos of us fucking to a director and sold them. Later on, the director called us and asked me to come in and try out. So, here I am. That's all there is to it, really."

Barry called time out in his brain. He smelled bullshit and found something extremely fishy about the way she recounted that story. She'd left a few too many holes in key details.

"Victor sold homemade porn videos of the two of you?"

"Yeah," she said nonchalantly. "We were hurting for cash, so he figured it might be an easy way to get some. This was about three years back."

Again, something didn't add up. "You said 'he' figured," Barry pried. "Did he discuss it with you at all before he did it?"

Suzanna hesitated, waiting until she slowly chewed and fully swallowed before answering. "Yeah, of course."

She was lying. Barry could see it in her eyes. Victor hadn't asked her jack shit beforehand. That only left him with more questions, but Barry didn't feel the need to question her about it. That would have been rude. But now, he had a hard time thinking of Victor as anything but a Grade-A douchebag for selling porn vids of his girlfriend without even asking her permission. He didn't know the guy, and Suzanna obviously cared about him, but as far as Barry was concerned, he deserved to have his ass kicked.

"And you enjoyed it, I guess?" he said, changing the subject.

"I looooooved it," Suzanna said jubilantly. "It helped that the guy who 'auditioned' me knew what he was doing and was hung like the fucking Hulk, but really, I just got a charge knowing I was fucking on camera. It turned me on to know I was spreading my legs and getting my pussy filled in front of dozens of eyes, and possibly thousands when the videos sold. They told me I drank up the attention beautifully and that I was a natural at putting on a good show. I got a few more parts, and when I saw my first check, I knew this was what I wanted to do."

"For how long?" Barry asked.

"Forever, if I can help it. I wanna be like Nina Hartley or Ginger Lynn, and keep fucking on camera till I'm old enough to be most of my co-stars' grandmas."

Barry couldn't help but laugh at that answer. "Well, at least you have a solid career path."

Suzanna smiled at his understanding. Her gaze turned naughty as she said, "You should consider it. I've seen you lifting and moving around the set. Muscles bulging through your shirt and shit. You're pretty damn hot. Tall, built like an athlete, and I can personally vouch that you got the right dick for it."

Barry just smiled and gave the same answer he gave to the last woman who asked. "I'll consider it."

"Good," she said, licking her lips as her eyes dissected him. "It won't be cheating if I fuck you on camera."

******

ONE MONTH LATER . . .

"Oh God, Barry . . . Oh God, my son . . . I've been waiting for this forever. Fuck me, son . . . fuck me!"

Barry cupped his mom's meaty tits as she bounced on his lap, sliding her pussy along the length of his rigid dick. He loved feeling her weight on his body, feeling her warmth on top of his. Just seeing her in so much rapture made him harder yet, and he wished that they could fuck like this forever.

"God, Ma . . . you look so beautiful like that. I love looking at your body."

She smiled at him and took his hand gently into hers, bringing his fingers to her mouth so that he could watch her suck them, one after the next. She stared into his eyes as each finger slid out of her mouth, coated with her saliva. Unconsciously, he began to thrust his hips upward harder, rewarding her lewd show with more powerful pounding.

"Oh, hurry and cum with me, baby. Cum with me."

Honestly, he wanted to hold off a bit more, but in reality, he just couldn't refuse that request, no matter how many times he heard it. Hearing his mother begging for him to come, with his cock deep in her pussy, was the single greatest feeling Barry knew. Only months ago, he never would have enough though that was possible, but all it took was for it to happen once before he fell completely in love with it. He would do anything, anything, to hear those words again and again.

"Oh, Ma," he said, placing his hands on her hips, locking their hips together so that she knew he was ready to grant her wish. "Tell me again. Tell me what you want me to do."

"Mmmm, Barry," his mother moaned as she leaned her lips closer to his. "I want you cum inside my naked pussy, darling. I want you to pour all of your potent sperm into my tender, defenseless womb. I need you to do it for me, honey. Do it and make me preg—"

Barry's eyes burst open and suddenly he wound up back in his dorm room, angrily glaring at his buzzing radio alarm as it indicated seven AM.

Never had he been so angry at God in his life.

That was the fifth such dream he'd had in the last month. Or was it the sixth? He couldn't quite remember. All he knew was that even one was too damn many.

Hell, he didn't even get to jizz this time—at least all of the other dreams ended with him exploding in his pants, satisfied at filling his mother's imaginary pussy. It was only when he woke up later with wet boxers that he realized he'd been duped, but this dream didn't even afford him that comfort.




Barry's Sluts Ch. 01: Suzanna



If there was one positive about it, though, it reminded him of the purpose he'd been working toward for the last month. His mother's hot, juicy cunt was waiting for him back in Chicago—but he stil wasn't ready for it yet. It still choked him up inside, when he thought about bringing up the subject of fucking to her. He still couldn't get over the fear of possible rejection. He still hadn't found the answers to his questions . . . the ones that he wanted to answer on his own, anyway. The last, and most important one, of course, was one that only his mother could answer. If and when the time came.

Almost like fate, though, when Barry finished his turn in the shower, he heard Dom calling him and shoving the house phone into his hands.

"There's a hot bitch on the phone for you. Doesn't sound like Suzanna, though. She know you cheating on her?" He said with a half-drunken grin.

Barry had no idea what the retard was talking about. For one thing, he and Suzanna didn't have that kind of relationship. The two of them hadn't done anything remotely intimate, aside from the occasional handjobs in her convertible. They had done quite a bit of 'hanging out' on their days off, but it had always remained friendly. Barry knew that Suzanna had a boyfriend and that he didn't approve of her fucking guys that she didn't get paid to. She maintained that their little spontaneous handjobs didn't count, and that she didn't lie to Victor about anything, so Barry was cool with that.

Besides that, the only 'hot bitches' he even knew outside of Suzanna were the occasional porn starlets he met on set, and none of them should have even had his dorm number. Barry had no idea would the hell would even be calling him.

"Yo?" He asked inquisitively.

"Barry? Oh thank God you're there, sweetie."

The sound of his mother's voice provoked several instinctive reactions. First, the voice of the woman who raised him was warm and fulfilling. Second, the voice of the woman whom he'd spent the last month fantasizing about electrified his body and left him practically salivating. And third, the voice of the woman he loved so deeply stoked his anger toward Dom for a certain remark he had just made.

Covering the receiver with his hand, he yelled: "Hey! This is my mom, you ass!"

"Yeah? Well my bad . . . but she sounds like a MILF."

Barry felt like decking the bastard, but he let it go. He didn't want to leave his poor, sexy mother waiting. He took a moment and swallowed, doing his best to remind himself to bury all of the lust he'd built up about her somewhere deep inside before he started the conversation. He needed to sound like nothing had changed between them. Like he didn't want to strip her naked and fuck her raw.

"Hey, what's up?" he said, not at all sure that he'd succeeded.

"Are you coming home for Christmas, honey?" she asked

A huge part of him so much wanted to say 'Yes'. All Barry had done was think about her, every single day. Every lonely night, every time he had an idle contemplation, it eventually turned back to her. How beautiful she was. How sultry her voice sounded. How tight her pussy felt. He wanted absolutely nothing more than to tell her 'Yes, I'll be home for Christmas, and don't bother wearing clothes'.

But unfortunately, he still wasn't ready. He didn't even know how to form those words, so there was no way he could be. He was determined to return home and stake claim on his mother's warm, fleshy cunt, but only after he gained a bit more courage about it. He had left Chicago the first time without saying anything after their first fuck—he wanted to tell her how much he had enjoyed it, but the words wouldn't come. He'd fled back to California without saying a word edgewise.

This time, that would not happen. If the past month had told him anything, if he was ever going to reestablish his sanity, he needed his mom's pussy, and he would do whatever it took to claim it.

However, there was one thing he could take care of right now. That single most important question could be answered right this minute, if only he could steer it out of her.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked her, silently begging that she understood the real question that he was driving at. All he needed was for her to understand, and maybe—just maybe—he would be able to be brave enough to do what he needed to do.

"I . . . I don't know," she answered, obviously uncomfortable with the question. "It's just . . . I've never spent Christmas without you, and—"

Fuck. That was not the sign Barry was looking for. She didn't seem to be reacting as positively to what happened between them as he was. But, there was a spark of hope: as near as he could tell, her feelings were still unsure. He could hear pangs of remorse, but if he didn't stir the pot, there would be a chance for her to come around on her own and realize just how good it made them both feel.

He would do almost anything to fuck her again, but he had no intention of coercing her into agreeability. He wanted to know she needed his cock just as badly as he needed her pussy. He was patient enough to wait if it meant he'd get just that in the end.

"Actually, Ma . . . if it's cool with you, I've, uh . . . I've got an internship going on up here in Fresno, and they wanna keep me on through the holidays. I wanna keep on that, if it's okay with you."

"That—That's wonderful news, honey! What are you going to be doing?"

He remembered his promise to Suzanna. "Um . . . actually, I'm not supposed to talk about that right now."

"Oh." The disappointed tone in his mother's voice almost shattered Barry's heart in half. He knew that she wanted him back, and heaven knew that he wanted to be back—but he just wasn't ready to do that. Even if it meant waiting until the horsemen road the Earth, Barry would do whatever it took to ensure that he could cum inside his mother's wet, velvety pussy whenever he wanted for the rest of his life.

"Yes, of course, honey," she said, so softly, so lovingly. "But I just wanted you to know . . . you can come home whenever you like. You know that, don't you?"

Ma, for godsakes, just tell me right now that you want me to come home and fuck your brains out in your own bed. Or in my bed. Or on the kitchen table. Or on the floor. Wherever. Just tell me that you want me to walk into that door and empty my balls into your cunt over and over until neither of us can stand. If you do that, I will take the next flight out of this dump TODAY. I will RUN back to Illinois if it gets my cock to your pussy any faster. Mom, I'm begging you . . . your little boy is pleading you . . . just say that, and I will leave this god-forsaken state forever and never, ever leave you alone again.

He wanted to say that so badly. He ached to shout that into the receiver . . . but unfortunately, fear held him back. He wasn't enough of a man-whore yet to say those words without embarrassment. The slut inside him wasn't strong enough to take control. His stupid, meaningless BRAIN still called the shots and dictated his course of action. Barry buried his tongue, not daring to say what he urged to say.

"Yeah . . . I know. Sorry, Ma. I guess . . . uh . . . I'll see you whenever then, huh?"

"Of course, baby. Sooner than later, I hope."

"Of course, Ma. Bye-Bye."

Barry hung up the phone and marched solemnly back to his room, where he banged his head against the wall for about fifteen minutes.

Of all the women in the universe he had to want so badly, why did it have to be his Ma?

******

On Christmas Sunday, Barry stayed in his dorm and fiddled with the new laptop computer he'd bought with the money earned so far. He mostly spent his time locked in his room doing Google searches on various subjects related to incest. He registered at a few forums, some exclusively devoted to incestuous relationships and others only loosely affiliated with the subject. Under the name 'Papa_Beary', he read stories from others who'd claimed to have fucked their relatives, but found that most of them seemed rather suspect. It was difficult to tell the ones who were serious about experimenting with incest and the ones who just wanted to troll and jerk others around. He made a topic about his own situation, and no one really gave any helpful advice. They just callously wished him luck or commented with a 'cool story bro'.

Barry accepted that he was on his own. From here on out, he would just have to treat his lust for his mother like the lust for any other woman, regardless of their other relation.

At that time, Barry's ears were called to his other gift: the new cell phone sent from his mother. He heard the text tone and knew instantly who had messaged him—only two people had this number, and his mother always preferred to call.

"SUZANNA -- Meet me @ 26th & Cline -- 4pm"

This was the first time Suzanna had ever called Barry to meet up outside of their work arrangement. Up to now, it had always been him asking to hang out. Curious, he texted back:  "BARRY -- Wats up?"

"SUZANNA -- Just be there stupid"

His curiosity was even more piqued, and a glance at his wall clock let him know that he had less than an hour to get where he needed to be.

It was raining cats and dogs that day, and Holiday season traffic was a bitch. Barry arrived at 26th & Cline at 4:07, finding Suzanna's car parked in front of a car lot. Stepping out of his cab, he hurried across the street, through pouring rain and knocked on her passenger side window. Hearing the door unlocked, he quickly scrambled inside.

"You're late," Suzanna said bitterly.

"A few minutes," Barry justified with an indignant look. "But I'm here."

"I hate tardy people," Suzanna retorted with gross displeasure. "Especially when I'm trying to do them a favor."

"By calling me out in the middle of nowhere during a winter thunderstorm?"

She didn't reply and simply put the car in drive, pulling the vehicle into the lot. She drove around a bit before stopping in front of a black Pontiac. Barry started to question what they were doing when he heard the jingle of keys behind him.

"Here you go," Suzanna told him, taking his hand and setting the keys inside. "Merry Christmas."

His eyes widened. "W-What!? Come on, Suzanna . . .tell me you didn't . . .!"

"I did," she said, taking a puff from her cig. "But it's still in my name right now, so try not to fuck it up or get a bunch of dumbass tickets until I can sign it over to you."

Barry stared at the keys in his hands and then back at the spackling black car sitting a few yards ahead. It was gorgeous and sleek, a model probably no older than a few years. He had no idea what it could have cost her, but it certainly couldn't have been cheap.

"I got black because I don't know your favorite color, but almost everybody likes black. If you want to get a paint job, that'll be on your own dime, though."

Barry shook his head, trying to give the keys back. "Suze, I can't accept—"

"You can and you will," she said, eyeing him forcefully. "I didn't just do this for you. I did it for me, too."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm taking some vacation time, starting in about a week. Vic wants us to spend it alone, so that means I won't be able to drive up to L.A. with you for a while. But, that doesn't mean you still don't have a job. You should know how to get there by now, and if you don't, the damn thing comes with a GPS, so even a retard could figure it out."

Letting out another cloud, she added, "Besides that, it's time you stopped weaning off my tit on this porn shit. You started doing this because of some god-forsaken interest in sex, so it's about time for you to spread your own wings."

Barry listened to her words carefully and realized that she was speaking the truth. He was relying on her too much to find the answers he wanted. If he wanted to be braver, then he needed to grow the fuck up. He needed to take a step on his own. Maybe even consider taking a step behind the camera himself and really learning what he could do.

He just nodded slowly and clutched the keys tightly, giving Suzanna a long and solemn look.

"Thank you. I'm going to repay you for this," he told her. "I swear."

"Well, I'm looking to trade up, so don't buy me the same piece of shit I just got you," she jabbed. "But you're welcome, Barry. We haven't known each other long, but you've been a good friend to me."

Barry returned her smile with one equally warm, letting her know that sentiment was mutual. In only a month, Suzanna had easily become the best friend he ever had.

In the middle of that thunderstorm, the two embraced for the first time.

******

TWO WEEKS LATER

Late at night, the text signal went off again and the vibration woke Barry from his sleep. Groaning his displeasure, he reached to his side and picked up the phone, squinting to make out the message.

"SUZANNA -- Barry u there? Ansr plz!"

"BARRY -- Yea. Was sleeping. Sup?"

"SUZANNA -- Im n trbl! Vics gon nuts!"

"BARRY -- Wat the hell hapnd?"

"SUZANNA -- Thinks Im cheating. Saw us in lot and sez hes been tailin me for weeks! Even to LA!"

"BARRY -- Dsnt he know wat u do?"

"SUZANNA -- Ya but thinks we fuck on the side! Thinks I cheated when we hung out this month!

That was incredibly bad. Suzanna and Barry had taken to hanging out every time they had a day off, whenever she didn't have to be with her boyfriend. She had said that she considered Barry to be her best friend, and she enjoyed having a buddy with whom she could share her juicy secret life. She had even said that Victor had been cool with the handjobs and the two of them being friendly off the job, but either something had changed or his acceptance had been a lie.

Even worse, if Vic had been following them to LA, then he'd probably seen a couple of times when the car had swerved off-road for thirty minutes a pop. Barry and Suzanna hadn't done anything but handjobs, but how would Vic know that? Jealousy makes the imagination tell all sorts of tales.

And of course, if Vic thought something was going on, the car Suzanna bought could have been the last straw. What sane person would really buy a thousand-dollar gift for just a 'friend'? Except an absolute gem like Suzanna?

"SUZANNA -- Just saw a gun undr his shirt! Barry Im scared!"

"BARRY -- Where r u?"

"SUZANNA -- Drexel and Clybourne. The Entourage nightclub."

That was good. She was in a public place, which made it unlikely he'd do something stupid. But, if emotions ran high, that wouldn't matter. Also, they would have to go home eventually; it was a miracle he hadn't short her already, but how long would it take him to say 'fuck it'? Barry thought about calling the police, but then he dismissed it for the same reason that Suzanna probably had. If something went wrong and Victor figured out what was up, he might just shoot her out of spite. She needed to get out of there quietly. She needed someone who knew her to come and get her.

"BARRY -- Can u leave?"

"SUZANNA -- No. Hes watching 2 close. In john rite now. Gotta go back b4 he suspects."

"BARRY -- Try 2 leave soon as u can. Im on my way."

"SUZANNA -- Plz hurry!!!"

Barry grabbed his keys and phone and raced out of his room, tearing across the flat even as Trena and the others all laid nude on the couch, all fucked out. Dom woke from the noise and asked "Barry, where you goin', man?" but got no answer. A few minutes later, Barry was in his car and programming 'Drexel and Clybourne' into his GPS.

The Entourage was well in the middle of nowhere, a few dozen miles down the highway from Fresno. Barry found the lot packed and just double parked his car anywhere to avoid wasting time looking for a spot. As he circled around the front, his pocket vibrated again.

"SUZANNA -- WHERE R U!?!"

"BARRY -- Im here. Come outside."

Barry's heart was racing, hoping that he could pull of this little rescue operation without getting either himself or Suzanna killed. The loud techno he could hear from inside only added an apropos theme to the intensity pumping through his veins right that minute. He kept an eye out for Suzanna, hoping to swing by and pick her up when he saw her, making a clean getaway without even needing to exit the car.

A second later, his phone vibrated again. But this time it was a call.

"Suzanna?"

"Hey, bro, wassup? You the fuckhead that's been messin with my chick?!"

Barry's pulse multiplied by a thousand.

"No! Look man! I'm just a friend! Just a—"

"Shut the fuck up, white boy. I'm fucking you up when I find you, you hear? First I'm gonna shoot you in the dick and then I'll cut your fucking balls off! Comprende!?"

The call ended and Barry beat a hasty line for the door. He could hear faintly Suzanna sobbing and saying something over the music, and now there were no doubts that her life was in danger. However, as he approached the entrance, Barry found a ridiculously long line and two huge bouncers standing in his way that made him look like a midget, even at his six feet even.

"Where the fuck you think you're going?!" One demanded.

"Look, you don't have to let me in, but there's a guy in there about to shoot a friend of mine. He's got a gun, and he's threatening to kill her!"

They paused and contemplated Barry for a moment, trying to see if this was a trick. Barry stared them down, letting them see just how serious he was, and prepared to do whatever he had to if it got him inside. He would fight past both of these giant goons if he had to. The thought of losing Suzanna . . . of allowing his best friend to be harmed . . . made his blood boil and his muscles twitch. He would never let anything happen to her—ever.

Finally, one of them touched his earpiece. "Hey, Manny! Guy outside says there's a crazy inside with a gun. You see anything?"

"Negative," the voice on the radio said.

"It's hidden under his shirt," Barry told them. "He thinks his girlfriend's cheated on him, and he sounds crazy as hell, so I don't think he'll give a shit about shooting her in a crowd of people."

"Fuck," one of the bouncers said. "Can you ID this guy?"

"No, but I can ID her," Barry affirmed.

The two bouncers looked at each other and nodded, not wasting any more time. "When we get in there, if I think you're playin' us, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you and toss you in the dumpster out back, understand?"

Barry nodded, and the bouncer motioned for him to follow.

His dread climbed to even greater proportions when entered the club and found it nearly impossible to identify even one face amongst the gyrating crowd of thousands. He had no idea what Suzanna was wearing at the moment, so that meant he had to try and find someone who matched her face or hairstyle. The problem was, a bob cut with straight fringe wasn't exactly an unpopular style.

The bouncer glanced at Barry once and he shook his head and kept looking. The guy gave Barry a wary glance and they began moving. He led Barry up a semi-circular staircase, probably hoping to get to the second level, where they'd be able to see the bottom level and dance floor more easily. In the meantime, the pounding, repetitive music was almost making it impossible to think. The flickering red lights made the situation even harder, as it was too dark and the flickering played with his vision at the same time.