1 comments/ 17026 views/ 1 favorites Come On, Sweet Thing Ch. 01 By: LaPatitMort I'm not 6'4" or a top notch horseman and I started fifteen or twenty years too late to double for Wayne, Gable, Heston, Mitchum, Peck and Lancaster like Chuck Roberson. I am small, so I lied about my age to fall off Buttermilk dressed as Dale in the late fifties. A dozen years later, I remember the director saying "I don't care if he survives, make him look like Burt or Jan-Michael, then get that rocket car moving." Six years after that, I even remember one asshole screaming at makeup, "Shave his chest, we'll shoot him from the neck down. And fluff up his cock so his loin cloth will bulge and he'll look more like Lambert before the cliff dive." You don't know my name but I've worked steady for over forty years and Hollywood has been good to me. I am smarter than doctors; they say there are 206 bones in the adult human body. Hell, I've broken more than that. My job has been to do fun and stupid things for fifteen minutes and then heal for six months. Then work for another fifteen minutes, falling off horses, crashing motorcycles, jumping off buildings, being blown-up, shot, dragged and beaten. It's a great job. How else could an average Joe get the girls, except as a stuntman in the movies? Here I am today, in a hospital bed, busted up a little and waiting for Audrey. I'm fifty-seven now. She is not the brightest bulb in the box but she is a gorgeous, sweet, caring, twenty-year-old, who thinks I am some kind of a god and a path to her first screen break. I haven't told her that. She just wants to believe. Her hot, wet, willing body is too special for me to force her to listen to my truth. "I'm so glad to see you today; come here, Sweet Thing. I've missed you." Her eyes were full of sympathy for my broken left clavicle, cracked ribs and bruised face. This hardly made the grade of a reason to in the hospital. Things have changed so much. I praised Xylocaine before the fictional Sonny Hooper did. In the old days, we got our ribs taped and then did retakes to preserve our job. Audrey fussed over me and I told her how to make me feel better. My son guarded the door while she pulled the sheet down and happily bobbed and sucked to administer the miracle that she was so good at. I slipped my right hand under her short dress and slid two fingers into her always wet cunt. She could thrust her hips without moving any other part of her body. There should be stunt women for porn stars. Audrey was very neat. When I came, she continued to suck and lick until I was spotless and she could cover my softening cock with the sheet and no nurse would notice that anything had happened, except for my heart monitor's record. "No, don't pull off my fingers. Let me watch you. Thrust your hips so I can hear them squish into you and watch your beautiful eyes and lovely face." She was perfect. She could cum on cue. Her breathing became shallow gasps; her thrusts were long; her face twisted and her eyes, almost shut. Her lovely pussy sucked at my fingers and she came so innocently for a woman who had already had ten lovers this year. She could be acting. I couldn't think much about that. So was I. "I'm too weak, Audrey, please feed your wetness to me." First she pulled my hand from under her skirt and guided my own fingers into my mouth. When I complained, "You taste so much better when your wetness is on you," she put three of her own fingers inside her and then brought them to my face to paint my lips and tease her scent under my nose. I was honest, "I can't wait to get home, so you can sit on my face and I can lick you while you suck me." "I can't wait for that either. It has been so long. I miss you and I want you to drive into me and make me cum and cum." It had been an entire three days. How could she endure such hardship? __________________ With a name like Ike Jones, I had to be a stunt man. At one hundred and forty-five pounds, I was invincible and my testosterone level was so high, I knew why Audrey found me irresistible. Still my shoulder needed an operation to be pinned and she was gone from my small horse ranch outside Culver City when I got home in six more days. She had invited two of her female friends to stay and keep her company while I was not home. They were still there and willing to cater to me for room and board. It had always been that way, as long as I had a track record and connections into the movies. It did not matter when I told them that my contacts were outside the casting mainstream. Still, I was the best possible inroad they had for now. These two would be gone, just like Aubrey, when a better contact came along. Russ "Stinky" Carroll has been my best friend since he got his nickname thirty years ago. He hates it. All those years ago, early in the day on a short shoot, he was drug through a large pile of manure and we all had to work with him through several more retakes. He definitely was ripe by noon. For the last few years, Russ has been making "How To" films for various types of horse events. I had met a soft-porn producer from a cable network and he had asked me, if I knew someone who could make some films for him. It was against my better judgment to make the call but I did. "Stinky, Ike, did you meet Dave Dormer at the roach coach buffet, when we did the Cimarron remake?" "I have no idea, who he is." "You're running out of work and he's looking for a soft porn honcho for a series of "halfs" for a cable channel - could be a good six months of work, even if you're not picked up." "At this point, I'll try anything." "What's the problem? We haven't talked since the "Maverick" homecoming." "Another split with another live-in who thinks, I'm made of money. Luckily, I didn't marry this one or adopt her kids." "What did I tell you twenty years ago? You are finally learning, and after only six tries." "Piss off." "Here is the number. Call me if you need a stunt man. I'm too old to try porn. If a woman spends a night with me, I'm happy to be out of pain and get it up." "I'll call him tomorrow. I don't ever want to see another woman." "Tell me that next month." "For a friend you are not very supportive. Did I tell you to, "Fuck Off?"" "No, but I bet that is what got you into trouble with this split too." "I need a new friend; you are starting to know too much about me." About a week later, at the ungodly hour of six a.m. on a non-shooting day, my phone went nuts. "Hello, Pancake House." "Ike, I need some help finding girls." "I don't pimp at six in the morning." "No, really, the lead you gave me was good. The first story will be used as a pilot and it actually has sort of a plot - seems this beautiful girl wants a real job but cums so easily that she keeps screwing up and getting fired." "Yea, where does it go from there?" "That is all there is for now. I know you write some porn and always have some young girls around. I thought you could help." "Damn, didn't you listen, I don't pimp before noon. Meet me at Marna's in North Hollywood at one. You make the reservations and pick up the tab. I'll have you in trouble before three." When I arrived at Marna's, Russ handed me a tea glass full of Beam and water -- well Beam and ice anyway. I handed him a roughed out ten-page script for a woman who starts as a helper training Dressage horses, then tries a photo shoot on a Harley and then is supposed to model beautiful lingerie from an exclusive local shop. I know you are ahead of me. The horse's trainer puts her onto a worn saddle and the horse's unique gate has her eyes rolled back and her wetting the saddle in minutes. The vibrating Harley has her humping it instead of showing off the chrome. And of course the dyke who helps dress her in revealing outfits gets her to stain each one and they get rich selling the results on the Internet along with a short film showing the exact undies getting wet. Russ was wild with enthusiasm, until he let his excitement dropped with the words, "We don't have a casting budget." "So what's new? I expect you to use my ranch for scenes one and two and pay me for it. I'll talk to the two women Audrey left behind. Maybe I can even find her. She is the poster child for the pilot. Girls for soft porn are not the problem in this town." "Damn, Ike, this could turn into something. I really owe you for the contact, the script ideas and...." "Just keep your dick in your pants until half the first year's commitment is done. Every other week, do something with horses. Let that be your trademark this year. You have all the contacts you need there. I'll help you with the scripts for scale and 10% of what you pay any girls, I send to you. If you are picked up, I expect you to do something nice for me in the contract." "Ike, I cannot thank you enough. I've been really depressed and not doing much for six months. The timing could be perfect. Everything for the split has already been settled. This could put me back on my feet." "If you had stayed on your feet, you wouldn't be in trouble in the first place." "Ok, smart ass, want another drink?" "If you buy me another drink, I'll outline two more episodes for you and get some girls to come see you Monday. I need some yellow pads and two colors of medium tipped felt pens." It was fun to see, Russ excited. At one time, he had been more fun than anyone but he has been gradually worn down by bad relationships and financial obligations. He has a lot of talent but he has to be free and wild for it to come out. As he ordered my next drink, he sent a waiter down the street to an office supply store. I had a lot of fun scribbling ideas and seeing a more and more exuberant Russ take rough scenes and run with them, adding his own creative thoughts. When I got home, I asked Crissy and Lynn, "Do either of you know how to get in touch with Aubrey?" Lynn shook her head "No" but Crissy added, "Maybe. She could have gone with that Donny guy." "Donny Shell?" "Yea, that sounds right." "He is a big liar and sleaze even on Hollywood standards. Have either of you heard of Russ Carroll?" Both shook their heads, no. "Russ and I used to do stunts together. He has been producing and directing "How Too" films for horse enthusiasts for the last few years. Now, he is going to be directing a few soft-porn, thirty-minute shows, for Showtime. He is looking for new faces. Audrey came to mind. Do you know any other girls, younger than thirty and pretty, who are looking for a shot in front of the camera?" "How about us?" "Sure, but he'll need to test more. There are three vignettes in each thirty minute show and some of the vignettes might have more than one girl." "We have danced together and done two girl shows. We haven't acted out here, but we want to try. We've been hoping, you would give us some pointers." "Get me at least six other girls, try to find Audrey and I'll give you some pointers and assure you that Russ will give all of you a fair audition." They squealed and danced around, excited as nine year olds. "Calm down you two. This won't be a big paying gig. If you are good, there might be some reoccurring roles or chances to be in more than one episode. The cable nets all have series like this and the actors bounce around. It could be a chance to be noticed by other directors. Not all series use outside talent. They sub-contract to groups that maintain medical and drug tests and assure that healthy, drug and disease free bodies will be on set when they are supposed to be there so that there are no costly downtimes for these low budget productions." "If we are good can we get into such a group?" "Yes, but if you are good and the series takes off, Russ might want to form his own group of trusted actors. Didn't you ever notice that a lot of the famous studio stars of the thirties, forties and fifties often worked with the same people from character actors, tech help, to grips? Movie after movie, you would see the same faces on screen and the same names on the credits." I got two blank stares. I was talking about ancient times and neither knew what a grip was. "Don't worry; over a long dinner and some wine, you'll learn lots of the terms. But there has to be at least eight of you." Two nights later, about seven p.m., the lovelies had seven others and Aubrey out by the pool for a bar-b-cue and talk. I stared at Aubrey and she looked down at her feet. "Ladies, I believe you are all new to the business and are looking for your first break. Today is Friday. Monday morning, you will all do quick tests in front of the camera with the series director, a camera man and a sound man. If the camera likes you and you come across real, you will be in at least one scene. Tonight, tomorrow and early Sunday, I'll give you a primer on the business, so you will know the very basics of what is going to happen." The ladies were all quiet, so I continued, "This will be a straight soft-core, made for TV, series. It will not be shot hard-core and cut into various US and international ratings, no stills, no Internet feeds, no casting expectations, no dick shots or direct visuals of acts." I got ten blank stares. It was going to be a long night. None of these lovelies had any idea how money was made in the porn business or what the various editing standards are. I sent Aubrey for a strap-on dildo so we could show examples. We staged scenes and the girls got to see the very different effects of camera angles, how something might show on film but be edited out or emphasized. They saw how a still could capture a split second and it would be triple x rated even though the rest of the scene was soft. By two a.m., we were all getting tired and I announced classes would begin at 10 a.m. There was a big groan. "If the director likes sunrise shadows, what time do you think you will be getting up to make the set across town at five a.m? Welcome to Hollywood ladies. And by the way on that five a.m. shoot, you have to look ravishing, horny and be tolerant when your partners forget lines, are late or the camera malfunctions and you have to do the same thing tomorrow morning, even earlier." Audrey came over to sit with me by the dying campfire while the others all found places to bed down for the night. "Ike, I'm sorry, I wasn't here when you got out of the hospital; I thought I saw a short cut into the movies by going with Donny." "Beautiful, there are lucky breaks but no short cuts. You have to do your time to learn the craft. Along the way there are thousands of blood suckers like Donny Shell. Get yourself checked out. You've been around some but Donny loses count of the females he's conned and fucked every few months." "He didn't even remember my name the third night I was staying at his house." "You'll find that is the way it is 60% of the time in this business. You have to learn how to spot the sleazy ones. It's tough." "I wish you would have told me." "Would you have listened?" "I guess not." "Russ is a good guy. He's male and not on the "A list," so he can be used. Don't do it. Just be beautiful and do your job. Maybe something will happen. I'm sure he will want you for the pilot's first episode. I brought you a copy; read it but don't let anyone else see it. Out here your best friend will cut your legs out from under you for a better script or part. Give it back to me tomorrow and do not make any copies or talk about it. If you do, the scene might show up on HBO a week before the Showtime series starts." "It gets that bad?" "Worse." "I felt safe here with you. I really enjoyed your company. You are fun to talk with, be around, work with and go to bed with. I hadn't found that combination in a while. Can we try again?" "Play it slow. Things will be hectic for a while. If the series is picked up and you become a regular, you will be able to pick a young handsome stud to hang out with and make the social rounds. That's not for me anymore." "I'm not sure it is for me either. Somehow I was thinking about a job, going into work each morning, being glamorous when I wanted to be and being private the rest of the time." "Wrong business, pretty little girl." "I'm not a little girl." "Out here, you are an infant to be devoured by the hard core, aggressive, cougars, who are holding on by the skin of their teeth. Everyone is replaced here. It is just a matter of how long your run is -- no movies, one movie or a hundred movies." "Not very pretty." "Go on to bed; get some rest." "Aren't you going to bed? Can't I stay with you?" "Go stay in my bed. I probably won't use it tonight. I need to think and write for a while. Remember, class at ten." -------------------------- I went for shock value at ten. "The director is competing to survive and be successful. He is under great stress and doesn't have time to baby you. Whatever the director asks, you give it and you give it your all. If you don't, there are ten behind you who will and you will be out of a job." Lynn spoke up, "What if he asks me to do something that was not in the agreement?" "Class, all together now." Maybe seven voices answered, "You will be out of a job." Lynn still was not convinced. I gave her a silly but effective example, "A show of hands, who will hang spread eagled, upside down and be eaten by a midget dressed as a donkey for a shot at the big time." Maybe three hands went up. "Lynn, you were the director's first choice but you said, "No." Do you think anyone with a hand up is beautiful enough to take your place in the scene?" She mumbled. "Louder, Lynn, so everyone can hear." "All of them." "There are only about a dozen stars world-wide, who can sometimes write their own tickets against a director. So know who you are working with and decide ahead of time what your limits are. The best director in Hollywood might get you alone while you are on your way up and ask you to spread them. Decide ahead of time, how much you want something." A petite red-head I did not know, asked, "Does it really happen like that?" "In a word, "Yes." Usually the big guns aren't so crude. They have lines outside their doors begging to do anything for a shot. The big guns have their picks before the casting even starts. They won't usually take any chances with a set cast or an established company." She added, "How does anyone make it through all that?" "Talent, luck, scripts, agents, timing, supporters and mentors. Enough talk, today, let's see who the camera likes." A leggy blonde asked, "What do you mean?" "Stand up. Turn around. Walk for us." She had to have been "Home Coming Queen" and had some modeling training. "You are drop dead gorgeous to my eyes, here, now and in-person. But how do you come across to the viewing audience of video tapes, a digital shoot or film? Some people do not photograph well. Some plain-Janes the camera loves and they come across much better than they actually are. But we are in the movie business so the camera has the only important vote." All day, each girl filmed the same scene twice. It was a lesbian scene. First, they played the sub and the second time they were dominate. Everyone got a healthy dose of waiting and was exhausted by seven p.m. During the day, they learned how lunch breaks worked. How to avoid the onions in the potato salad, if they wanted a good reaction out of their lover. How to play to a camera, but never look at it. They even had to do a scene with me and pretend to be turned on by someone three times their age. Over way to much tequila that night, several of the girls bundled up in blankets and sat around the campfire to ask more questions. The group was opening up, not being intimidated, learning what was expected and that the business at its best is impersonal because decisions are made to make something on film a success. Come On, Sweet Thing Ch. 01 Anna, another leggy blonde asked, "Can't you or someone teach us to have an edge?" "I'm trying to give you an overview but I'm not a power broker. I don't have the magic touch or an eye for success. A Spielberg can see scenes, people and action in his mind that you and I have to see five times at the movies to comprehend all the action and perfection that he saw before the camera started to roll. No, Pretty One, I'm a bit player and have been for much longer than you have been alive. That is the best I'll ever do and I love it. Ninety percent of those you see in this town, never made it as far as me. The big movie stars are so rare, we can remember their names from the millions who have tried to succeed in Hollywood, or Bollywood, or in Europe's movies or in China's movies , or in Hong Kong's movies." Cassie was eating again, "All that is frightening." "It is and being frightened is just another way to fail. Being taken, believing in charlatans, seeking short cuts are all ways to fail. You ladies have picked the most competitive business in the world. Now decide to play by its rules or pick something else." Aubrey piped up, "What are you going to torture us with tomorrow?" "Tomorrow, I am going to pick an ugly, fat, sweaty man and have each of you come onto him on film. We'll see, if you can convince the rest of us that you really want him because he is rich and powerful." Carol a dripping, hot spinner, who I had wanted since she showed up asked, "Don't we get to do scenes with handsome leading men?" "Clark Gable was rumored to have horrible teeth and breath. He was a very successful leading man. Others were drunks, very short, had trouble remembering lines, etc. Some male porn stars wash out because they can't get it up on cue, so they cost you money and time by keeping you away from your next shoot. What kind of leading man did you have in mind? Steve Reeves was Superman, he killed himself. The old contract stars are dead or in homes. Regular people make movies, not super people. Who do you want to have a scene with? I'll call him and ask for you." The snickers went around the fire. There was no more discussion. Aubrey came to me. "Do you think I can pull off the scenes you gave me?" "If you let yourself go, you will be perfect. Play it a thousand times in your head, so you will not be afraid of anything new. It will be old hat and almost boring, when the filming starts. You'll have to pump yourself up and fake your best orgasm on the back of the horse. I've watched you do it riding me. I wanted to believe I was good enough to make you cum like that but I was never sure." "You made me cum plenty." "Every time you screamed out my name or hissed "Yesssss?" "Well, No." "Do it for the camera when Russ Carroll tells you to. He wants to succeed as much as you do. Do a good job for him and he'll be on your side for another scene." "Coming to bed tonight?" "No, you go ahead." "Why not?" "I like you and your body too much. I've let it go now. You could claim me easily again. I'm more in the relationship phase of life; I need to know my lady will be there when I get home. You are career building. I could never count on you." She walked alone back to the house. She had nothing to say. She knew I was right. Sunday morning went well. All the girls could seduce any living thing and French kiss Roy's horse, if necessary. We broke early and I called Russ, "You will have ten women at your door tomorrow morning. Give them all a fair shot. Really consider Aubrey for episode one, she is a natural, if she is not too nervous." "Now, are you directing and casting?" "Call me at the end of the day." Monday night Russ arrived with a Jeroboam of Louis Roederer Cristal Champagne and a smile that lit up the night. "They were all perfect for one scene or another that you have written. How did you do that?" "You haven't proposed to any of them, have you? There are supposed to be 12 episodes, we've only roughed out four." "No, I haven't proposed but I can see success." "You don't pay the bills. Get it on film - get three out to the public and three more in the can. Then get one of the really big assholes to pick up the series for another year or two." "Here drink this. I need to get you really drunk. So far you are the series. The scenes, the dialog, the location, the casting. Sure you can't fuck on screen?" "That, I'm really sure about." -------------------------------- In a couple of weeks, Stinky asked me to come on the corporate offices to talk with the producers. The first episodes were testing well at Showtime. There was enough tongue-in-cheek humor to make the series sound different and not look as hokey as many of the porn series. The rapid pace of three scenes in thirty minutes, kept viewers from yawning through the usual long, show-nothing, faked sex scenes. All the fresh, new faces helped. Lorraine Lane stole my heart for two years, almost twenty years ago. Back then, she was just past the age that she would be noticed in the movies, but she was bright, learned fast and had good business sense. She helped me run my business and I was thinking serious until one day she asked me to help her find a job in the business side of Hollywood. I had one good contact in production management of a possible new TV series called "Married with Children." Some Executive Producer glommed onto her. She moved out with another piece of my heart. Hell, by then I only had small pieces left anyway. Soon, I heard she had moved in with the Executive Producer. That was ancient history, but today, there standing behind Stinky was Lorraine; she was dressed like a stern, Librarian with rimmed glasses, straight gray skirt, tight bun and all. After the initial introductions a meeting was set to begin in thirty minutes. In the mean time, Lorraine walked over to me. "Hi, Ike, I thought the scripts had a familiar ring to them." "Lorraine, you are as beautiful as ever, but why the get-up?" "This is who I am, now; I'm one of the assistant executive producers for this series." "My God, this couldn't be much lower budget, how much management is needed." Of course, I didn't get any response to that, so I kept teasing, "The get up doesn't matter; I have a good memory; I know who you really are when you get out from under your disguise. You and that hot body almost killed me a few times." "My, you do have a good memory. That was a long time ago." "I'm crushed. Don't you have just a few pleasant memories from way back then, once upon a time?" "Well, if I think really hard, maybe a couple." Right on time and right on cue, my request was answered, a really big asshole, Tom Coltranne, swaggered in to start the meeting. For fifteen minutes, he postured and bragged; then, he pulled me out of the meeting, leaving everyone behind. I had never met the man but he started with his arm around my shoulders, "Ike, we are trying something new. We're doing three series at one time to save money. Your scripts for the lead series are a fairly good start, we want to follow that with an old time serial on stunt people's lives and follow that with another thirty minutes of soft-porn about the business "Like the 'Seymore Butts' series was but not so family oriented, more single man on the make. We loaded the management and writing staff early, so we could evaluate the talent and cut it in half about now. We need edgy." I hated this part of the business, it was pure sleaze. Still I played; it was time, I added to the conversation and made him feel important, "Edgy, how, Mr. Coltranne? Do you want to push the censors, the story lines or a little of both?" "You catch on fast. We're going to get along. I want to do anything we can for ratings and market share." "The second thirty could be a mystery show with porn mixed in. I think the weakness of such shows has been the writing. Maybe, styled on the movie, "LA Confidential," an LA cop who knows the business and investigates crimes inside; a third generation flatfoot who can flash back to old cases -- black and white, Bogart style, over fifty years, whatever, set is cheap and not being used." "Thoughts to save money are good. Our writers are not seasoned enough for that glib, smart-ass style." "For a few episodes, let me tell them what to write. They are right out of school and used to doing what the teacher says. We might get a few freebies." "You think like a producer. I like that." "Which executive assistants will survive and who'll be cut?" "To the point. That's good. You were talking to Lorraine. Sorry, she will be cut, not mean enough to survive." He rattled on for a while. His choices were "yes men," I expected that. I needed his support and some latitude. I learned to slip buy such men, thirty years ago. When he finished, I started, "Mr. Coltranne, I need some admin help, to pull together a contracted acting ensemble, keep track of your baby writers and secure the scripts. I've worked with Lorraine on business issues before. Will you grease the skids for me to get her to come out to my Culver City ranch and help me keep the office in order? She can help us set up a list of approved actors and support techs. We can bind them to a shooting year and see how everyone pulls off your great idea of three thirties shot under one thirty's slightly extended budget. Lorraine can keep them all on schedule, clean and organized. I saw her work at that level. She was good. You are right; she is not ready for your high-pressure world, heading up a show." I came out as head writer and casting director with authority to organize the acting part of the production company. We didn't talk about salary. He'd have to pay scale and we were an unproven entity. Lorraine was finishing wiping her last tear when I came up behind her, "Lorraine, did Mr. Coltranne ask you for me? I know it is not the level of work that you are used to doing, but will you help me for a while, until you find something else?" "Cut the crap, Ike. You don't have to talk to me like you do him. Of course, I'll work for you. I don't have anything else and I have to eat and pay the rent." "Rent's cheap at my place. No expectations. You'll just be closer, so I can get more work time out of you." "Damn, it's nice to talk to a straight shooter again." "I'll leave that line alone for now. Do you remember my numbers?" "Yes, they are on my cell." "You haven't used them for years. You must have been satisfied a lot. Use one tomorrow and let's set up a schedule for next week. I want everything in place by a week from Friday and then production starts the following Monday." "That's too fast." "I can do it. Maybe you have gotten soft." "I can do it too, you asshole." "Hey, I've moved up to management." Lorraine laughed at me. It was good to hear her laugh and watch her responsive Ds wiggle. She moved in to my place, took over a room as her office/bedroom and dug in. She had been around. She took our ten core "actresses," ballooned them to twenty, gathered enough "older" women to fill our need for madams, soon to be replaced wives, secretaries and cougars. She quickly gathered quite a stable of studs. I wondered if she had been auditioning for a while. We decided to set up an old time filming compound at my horse ranch. We brought in three bunkhouse trailers, set up a military style chow hall/kitchen, two tents to house sets and equipment and allowed any crew members to camp if they wanted to. The idea was to really produce a lot of episodes quickly. The writers took over my living room, den and dining room. After only a few days, administratively, the initial plots and the first few scenes were going along marvelously but I was worried and Lorraine noticed it. She rounded up Stinky and they cornered me out by the pool very early on our seventh production day. I saw them stalking me and invading my space, "What did I do wrong now? I haven't seen you two together since we started this." Lorraine spoke first, "You tell us. Everything seems to be going along great, but you are not your usual energetic, overly positive, head in the clouds, playful self." "I promised Tom Coltranne that our work would start pushing the censors, he wants edgy. Our story lines and output are great for launching and getting on the air, but I can't seem to come up with ideas that will be "edgy" and still get by the censors. He's given us a blank check so far. Unless we can show him what he is looking for, he is going to start backing away and we'll just become another 'also ran.'" Stinky didn't have his imagination going this early, "What do you think he wants? We can easily give him, flashes of cock, an asshole shot or a dripping open pussy still reaching for an out-of-frame cock." "Your ideas are close, Stinky, but we have to figure out how to creep up on them. We actually have to bet Coltranne will like something enough to challenge the powers and actually fight for it to make late night TV. We need to get the publics' attention, so they put clips on the internet and the world knows what to watch next week. We'll only get one or two tries." My concerned visitors were no help. We all needed to get back to work. "Stinky, what are you shooting today?" "We've changed some outside evening shooting to daytime scenes. Weather man says showers this evening. We had that little spinner and her boyfriend scheduled for a try at your first "Sex in Public" idea this evening but it will probably be rained out." "I'll be there about sunset. Let's try it anyway, if we can. That scene might give us some new ideas." ---------------------- A few sprinkles had broken up the shoot before, Ike arrived. Carol, the little spinner, had been dating Eric, one of the male porn stars, even prior to her audition with Stinky. They melted into the low thin Manzanita when the shoot was canceled, while everyone was scurrying to get the equipment under tarps. The clouds were patchy dark things, covering most of the darkening blue sky. Sun beams reached brightly down from dozens of cloud breaks. At that exact moment, Ike's path led by a peek-a-boo slit in the bushes and he could see Eric thrusting into a willing, widely spread Carol. She was so tiny beneath his gym-toned body that only her legs showed. Ike waved frantically at Jim Holder, a digital camera man; he had worked with dozens of times. Ike pointed through the bushes and Jim began to capture the beauty of their love making through the leaves. Ike walked around the clearing and spoke to the lovebirds, "Carol, Eric this is Ike Jones. Don't stop. This is part of the shoot. Follow my instructions. There was a very noticeable pause in the action that would have to be edited out, but these lovers were experienced and well into seeking their pleasure. "Roll him over, Carol, so you are on top." The slightly damp soil clung in spots on her pale skin and was in her nearly platinum blond hair. By now, a few other people from the camp had gathered behind Ike to see what was going on. Ike whispered to one man, "Get me a big pail of water." The water arrived just as a cloud burst did. Big drops hit the two hot thrusting bodies, making patterns on their dust and dirt covered skin. Ike directed Jim to film a shot of the coming storm. As Jim followed instructions, Ike stepped forward and poured the water into the dirt under Eric. Eric's hands immediately went into the mud puddle to feel what had happened. "Keep your hands by your sides, Eric." Jim's lens returned to the action. Carol was almost there, in-spite-of being filmed. Her eyes were closed, her body thrust long and hard, taking all of her guy. There was no doubt that she was penetrated and eagerly taking all that he had to give her. "Show us you are a spinner, Carol. Don't let him out of your body; spin around, so you are facing his feet." They had done this before. Carol barely missed a stroke as she spun around smoothly spreading mud with her knees and feet. Her hands came to rest on Eric's knees, she leaned forward and found the perfect angle to use his cock to molest her clit and poke into her magic spot. "Reach up, Eric, touch her back. Touch one of her breast. Let your hands slide down to hold her hips. Now, she needs your help, she is getting tired but she wants to cum and does not want to stop, even if she is tender, until she makes you cum deep in her belly." The two lovers had gone with the fantasy. They wanted to be directed. It was something new to heighten their climax. Carol began to thrust for her release. Eric lifted his legs enough so his feet sunk into the mud when he thrust up, lifting her, impaling her deeper, helping her. Her pale skin seemed to glow where the rain had washed away the dust. Eric had spread muddy hand prints on her perfect skin. Those black harsh contrasts were beginning to wash away and everyone imagined how the dirt under his gripping hands must be grinding into her tender skin. Carol whimpered, missed a stroke, then another. Her pretty face was contorted. Her close-up was impossible to fake. Her next thrust was pure pleasure. She cried out into the quiet patter of rain drops. Eric arched higher. His body growled first in power and then in defeat as the tiny body drained him. One last whimper came from her and she wilted forward with one breast on either side of Eric's right leg. By now the shadows were dark in the circle of shrubs. In the fading rays, the final smears of mud and dust washed off of Carol's beauty and Eric lay mired in the mud, his chest heaving still trying to catch his breath. Ike was on his knees in the mud but he jumped up and barked orders. "Jim, meet me in editing; get Stinky and Lorraine." To no one in particular he continued, "Get some towels and blankets for Carol and Eric. Get them something warm." He went into the tiny clearing, helped Carol up, oblivious to Eric's cock slipping out of her and a stream of cum flowing down her thigh. He helped Eric up. He hugged them both; told them how beautiful they were and how special what they had done was. He thanked them several times. No one really understood what was going on inside Ike, but he sure was happy. Ike was soaking wet when Lorraine and Stinky showed up at the editing area. Ike had already smoothed two bad transitions and had cued the scene to a larger monitor. Maybe ten or twelve people gathered just inside the door. It is very rare to see excitement on any shoot, much less on a soft-porn shoot. Just as Ike started to talk, some sanity flashed through him. He took a deep breath and returned to some semblance of professionalism. "Russ, first I want to apologize to you. I am in no way wanting to infringe on your authority as director. Remember what Lorraine, you and I talked about this morning? I stumbled onto Carol and Eric making love as girlfriend and boyfriend. I had a dozen revelations and just lost control telling people what to do. Forgive me and let me show you what ideas I have that you can take and make special." Lorraine horned in, "Damn it Ike, quit worrying. We've all been friend for decades. What do you have?" "The editing rules say "simulated sex" and that keeps TV soft core from being anything worth looking at. "Simulated" is a value judgment unless you are on the set to see what actually happened. A lot of "Simulated" is actually done with editing or obviously faked sex. The acting is usually so poor every viewer knows no one actually got off." "Thanks for calling me "Russ," instead of "Stinky," but where are you going with this?" "We show everything up until actual penetration, we also show real body and facial climaxes, we use real sounds, we use less music, we use more voyeur camera work in natural light, it's alright, if the light is natural -- we can't show detail anyway. If we have girls who won't do actual sex, edited down to soft-porn, we use them in masturbation segments with a Sybian or something. Here, sit down, watch this scene." Come On, Sweet Thing Ch. 01 Ike's enthusiasm and rapid fire ideas had everyone's head swimming and trying to relate them to TV censorship rules. It took less than a minute for the entire stuffed, humid room to grow completely silent. All eyes were glued to the 24 inch screen. Everyone had experience in the porn industry but the raw simplicity of two nude lovers actually satisfying each other in nature's elements and their beauty was intoxicating and sexually exciting. Experienced, or not, by the end of the fifteen minute uncut segment, lots of hands were on bodies that were not their own. It took several minutes for people to gather their thoughts and get their breath back into normal rhythm. Carol and Eric were to the left of the screen, wrapped in blankets; Eric's arms were around Carol. They knew that what had been directed and captured was very good. At least twenty people congratulated them as the hoard filled out of the too crowded tent, leaving Jim Holder, Russ, Lorraine and Ike. Russ was embarrassed. "Ike, you should direct. That scene was damn good. You did it in one take and it is the hottest soft-porn, I've ever seen." "Thanks, Stinky, but you are the director. Today was a wild inspiration brought on from all my worry and our discussion this morning. When I saw Carol and Eric together, in the rain, it was beautiful and a dozen ideas on how to be "Edgy," like Coltranne wants, just flooded out. That will probably never happen again in my lifetime. You have to do it, day-in and day-out. Now, I think I know what to give you to work with. What do you think?" "If we can get it on TV, it will be fantastic. Do you think we should push this in all three programs?" "They are supposed to run together. I think a hot show, thirty minutes of entertaining relief and a second hot show, will keep them coming back for more." Lorraine brought us to the practical first step, "How can we get it past Showtime to get to the censors?" "Exactly like it happened, a rained out soft-porn shoot, two lovers go into the bushes, etc. We'll distract them with the usual soft-core lead in, then use some no-no words like "fluffer" and see if they actually watch the second half or just pass it after cutting our dialog." "You are as sneaky as you were the first time you took my ass............," Lorraine paused; she had forgotten Stinky and Jim were in the room. "Damn, Lorraine, I'm really happy you said that, you had me really wondering if you had forgotten all of our times together." The cat was out of the bag, so she continued talking directly to her old lover, "I didn't forget any of them. No one has ever satisfied me like you did for our two years. I wanted a career but I missed what we had every day. It would have been foolish to call you and tell you that. We couldn't have done much about it, all those years." Russ had never heard anything serious from Ike about a relationship. Ike's mind and heart went visibly away from his day's success and ideas, "I was really serious about you. I wanted us to be together. I wish you had told me that you shared just a little of what I felt." The air was thick with emotions, history and regrets. Russ broke up the evening, "Ike, let's get together with Lorraine over early breakfast and outline some ideas. I'm feeling a chance at success here and it's scaring the hell out of me." Ike walked beside Lorraine all the way to her room. He never said a word until they were at her door. "I'm going to kiss you. If you don't want that, you are going to have to physically stop me." Twenty years evaporated when their lips touched. Many nights of memories returned so their kiss was from the night before, experienced, soft, need filled and hopeful. Two tears were on Ike's cheeks, "I wanted you to have your career twenty years ago. I stayed quiet. I didn't have much back then but I bought you a ring and was going to propose but you said you needed to be free and go away." "What happened to the ring?" "I paid it off on monthly installments for two years. It is still in the wall safe in the bedroom." "Lots of women have been through that bedroom in twenty years." Ike had nothing to say. She was right. He couldn't change twenty years of history. He felt dismissed. "See you at early breakfast, Lorraine, our director has summoned us." She regretted her last words. She hadn't meant to stop the conversation cold. They had teased every day but the long absence from each other kept her from seeing some very raw spots on both their hearts. Back to work in the morning. Come On, Sweet Thing Ch. 02 For three hours after breakfast, Ike met with the writers and outlined the new perspectives and how the three series would fit together. Up until that meeting, all the work had been on the three scenes per episode series that was just about to be aired the first time. That afternoon, Ike got to be himself overseeing a stunt for the serial. It was a fun thing where a stuntwoman dressed as a man rode a horse next to a racing, out-of-control buckboard and a stuntman, dressed as a woman leaped from the wagon onto the horse behind the rider. The horse falls and the two wind up kissing after they discover neither is hurt. The viewers get a shock when the head wear falls off and they see a man in a dress kissing a woman in men's clothing. Russ was filming the pilot for the last thirty. A rookie, uniformed cop, is trying to clear an apartment building because of a bomb scare. He walks in on three women with a room full of sex toys. The biggest of the women is in a cop's uniform and wearing an impressive strap-on dildo. He is obviously excited by what he sees and gets a parting invitation from one of the nude, sweaty, recently satisfied females, "Why don't you come back and help us have fun later?" Ike wanted to make a package to be shown to Coltranne: 1. Eric's and Carol's rain and mud scene. 2. The gender bending kiss of stunt people. 3. The pilot of the second soft porn series showing nude women playing, sex toys, a strap on but with the new main male character fully clothed. Lorraine was expecting something else from Ike when he approached her after dinner. "Lorraine, would you take our package of "edgy" to Coltranne, watch the scenes with him, walk him through the concepts and get his take on everything?" "Why me? It's your and Stinky's work." "Stinky has to stay on schedule. You know Coltranne; you know how to put up with his chauvinistic, macho crap and not fight back; and frankly, I've never taken this much risk or had this much emotionally invested in a project. I'm frightened to present it to him." "The work is good. He'll like it. I don't know if he'll put himself on the line to get it approved. You definitely have thrown down the gauntlet in a few areas." "I know. I'm expecting the most trouble by clouding the definition of "simulated" in made-for-TV soft porn. If we have to retool, he'll probably cut our meager budget. I don't want to have to do that to these people. They have really been supportive, so far." "You are getting too involved. They will all turn on you, if we get some success." "Maybe, but I still feel you are the best person to present our new approach to the assholes." "I'll do it. Anything I should be careful about?" "Be ready if he tries to cut the budget. If you say too much, he might target you, Stinky or me. I like us being together. You can think through how you believe the meeting will go down and you have the best chance to be right. Just go for it. I'll tell Stinky why this is the best way." ------------------------- At ten p.m. the next evening, my cell phone rang. "Ike, the pilot with Aubrey showed an hour ago on the east coast. The first polling numbers are in and it is doing very well. Tom has asked me to stay and get the west coast numbers and give him time to present our package to the management committee, so I won't be coming back to Culver City tonight." I had a dozen important questions to ask, but they seemed to lose their importance as she talked. I wanted to ask Lorraine not to sleep with Coltranne tonight. I wanted to tell her that I wanted her with me. Instead, I asked, "What was his initial reaction to what we presented?" "He was very quiet. He took a lot of notes. He didn't play asshole. I've not seen that part of him before. I couldn't read him. Maybe by morning or early afternoon, I can get his full reaction. I call you as soon as I know something." The word "morning" played and played in my head. I'm not a jealous man but I could not face the idea of where she would be spending the night. I escaped and went to give the news about the first pilot to Stinky, Audrey and the crew. The party was starting before I got my announcement out. Some people wanted to watch the pilot on TV, even though everyone had seen it several times. Russ wasn't happy having to wait to hear the fate of our presentation and our future. I had two big drinks and then returned to my room to be alone and write down some ideas. I was dozing, a couple of hours later, when a happy, loud and drunk Aubrey crashed into my room. "I know what you need to celebrate." She stepped out of her shorts and panties, straddled my head and pushed her pussy into my face. The woman had remarkable instincts. This was exactly what I needed. I ate her through two climaxes, fingered her through another, fucked her until she squealed and her cunt sucked my cock so hard, my nuts drew up to the size of raisins. Her young body showed no signs of slowing down. I saw Russ through the patio window, opened it and called to him, "Stinky, I need some help. Come over here and finish this for me." He stood dazed, with wide eyes and drool on his lip. Audrey was spread eagle on her back, her hips were still churning, her eyes sparkled and she reached out both arms to him. While Stinky stripped, I gathered my slacks, one shoe and my shirt. I couldn't find my boxers. He was in her before I had my shirt buttoned and slipped out the sliding door to find another drink. Strangely, I was thinking about Lorraine. At three p.m. the next day, Lorraine called again, "Ike, Tom wants me to stay another day. He is having some meetings with the legal department and wants me to bring some things back to you and Stinky. He wants me to meet with his boss tonight and discuss some of the future ideas you have about story lines. I hope you have some and can tell them to me." I skipped over her request and just blurted out, "Did you sleep with Coltranne last night?" Her answer was quick, "For God's sake, No." She paused and then added, "But I didn't spend last night alone. I bet you didn't either." "You're right, but I wanted to be with you." "Ike, my evening wasn't anything special. I thought about you at the wrong times. However, we have to talk about this later. Pull yourself together, I'm not positive, but I think the package and the great polling numbers for the pilot has us steamrolling the big wheels. I need you to tell me where this all is going and to be really sharp, if I have to call you and Stinky with legal questions. I sat on my ruffled and cum stained bed thumbing through single line ideas for future segments that had not been written yet. I just pretended each week was set and went through the late night lineup for five weeks. Lorraine finally asked, "In week three, what else happens in the cop flash back to the "Fatty" Arbuckle case." "Sexy, don't ask me. What I've given you is all there is. I've made this up as we've talked. Add-in your ideas. You used to kid that with your brains and my stupidity we could do anything. Well, I'm still stupid. Are you still brainy?...........and tasty?" "I'm not as wet as I used to be and I must not be as smart, letting you talk me into being here instead of you. How about you? Still tasty?" "For you, I would be any flavor you wanted." That was too serious in the wrong direction. "Ike, give me some guidelines, what do I say, if they ask me what we want." "Don't mention any dollar amounts, legal issues or specifics. Just say we hope to be the production company that gives them the best three shows on their network. Get them to say what they want: number of shows, content, what happens if censors block something Showtime approved, liability, time periods, creative control, re-run residuals, just standard stuff like that. If we say anything, we lose at this point. We need professional guidance and legal help. They are pros, have a legal army and are hoping, we'll agree to something that is in their favor before we know better. Just be cool and buy us at least a week to respond." "Do you think we can form an entire production company and produce for Showtime?" "Not just Showtime, but keep that under your hat. Remember I'm the stupid part of this tandem." "This is scary and exciting; like we used to be." "We still could be that way." "I hope so, Ike, I want that with you. I'll call you with any questions that pin me down or any news that I have. Will you tell Stinky about our talk?" "As soon as we get off the phone." Just when I pushed the "Off" button, her words hit me, "I hope so, Ike; I want that with you." My heart was racing. I didn't know if it was because of what Lorraine said about us or what she thought was happening with the assholes tonight." "Stinky, got any more of that champagne?" "No, just some Beam." "Bring it, some ice and a couple of glasses. We've got to talk. Meet me in my bedroom." "I'm not into guys." "You might be after we talk." After an hour's talk with Stinky, I was questioning whether I should have had this discussion with him at all. He wanted more specifics, more firm answers, more definite directions than I had. He liked what Lorraine and I thought was happening in the minds of the big shots, but the unknowns just added pressure and anxiety to his world. "Stinky, I wanted you to know what I know and give you the opportunity to throw in ideas and possible directions while everything is in the formulative stages." From then until lunch the next day Stinky's work was horrible. Even the newbies knew we were burning money. I had wanted to try something for a while. "Stinky, take the afternoon and do me a big favor." "What?" "Remember the famous scene in the "Graduate" when Mrs. Robinson comes on to young Ben Braddock for the first time?" "Of course, you and I have argued about that scene a hundred times." "Randy Ives is here today. Let's get that old pro to play Mrs. Robinson. You find the youngest looking stud we have and you just hip shoot that scene with Randy guiding her guy through some oral and then some straight sex. She has always done great orgasm scenes. Let's see if she can pull off some convincing facial shots while pushing the cougar idea to an even edgier age limit than a recent college graduate. Call your scene "The Young Student" or "The Future Graduate." "We don't have a script or anything." "I know. Be wild and creative like you used to be in your thirties. Get the guy to be shy, so she'll have to work to get him hard. Do the scene like you always said it should be, even if you have to fuck her yourself and dub in the boy's face. Go for it. Shoot one camera, if you want. Try for hot and edgy." "You are serious, aren't you?" "I'll go get Randy. You find your balls and a young looking stud. We'll shoot in my bedroom. It was cleaned and made up today. I'll get the techs and the equipment ready. I'll tell the writers, this is an experiment and that if it works, it'll take some of the time pressures off the regular shoots. We can pay a finder's bonus for any future take-off ideas that can be filmed quickly." Like Stinky, Randy had been doing "How To" films for a while, except, hers were "How to Suck a Cock," "How to Lick a Pussy," "How to Have Anal Intercourse," and "How to Put Excitement Back into Your Marriage." As I explained what we wanted her to do, that wonderful sexy naughty sparkle exploded into her fifty-plus year old eyes. Someone was asking her to act and do real porn again instead of voice-overs and being the non-participating expert. Carl Rider, our "Stud" was perfect. He was slight, could be made up to look very young and was intimidated by Randy Ives because he had grown up stroking to her movies. They gave Stinky what he asked for and it was mostly real. Randy came on strong. After she taught the reluctant Ben to kiss, she reached under her dress and removed her damp, fragrant panties. Carl's eyes showed that he was actually afraid of her. His fear mixed with his reaction to her pheromones as she rubbed her panties over his mouth and nose. His eyes were wild. They watched unblinking as she reached under her dress again and worked two fingers into her pussy. I hoped the sound equipment captured the natural squishing. Carl's eyes went from wide open to closed when she rubbed those soaking, glistening fingers on his lips and then pushed them between his lips to fuck them gently across his tongue into the opening of his throat. I had lusted after Randy for so long, I would have cum in my pants, but our "Stud" was intimidated. I'm not kidding. Later in the scene, on her knees, she coaxed him out of his pants and pulled his "whitie tighties" down to stretch across his thighs. His words were sincere; he actually apologized, "I..I....I'm sorry, I'm not hard." "Don't you worry, Ben. You just leave that to Mrs. Robinson." My God, I have to go purchase her "How To" video. She only took Carl into her mouth but every cock within five miles was hard as a rock after a couple of minutes. We wouldn't be able to show much but Carl's body struggled for control and his face showed the surprise that she had taken his practiced control from him so easily. Randy was the right choice. She stripped in front of him. His cock pointed and touched her thigh, leaving a little snail trail. That trail would make the final P.O.V. cut. She stood next to him; pinning him against the big desk. She took his fingers, licked them and then pushed the two center ones into her pussy. From behind "Ben," we could see her squat slightly to flare her legs and open for his "inexperienced" fingers. From over his shoulder, we could see her near climatic pleasure, almost closed eyes and see her lips purse as her hot breath rushed from her lungs and his fingers explored their first mature, willing pussy. Randy's hand went down to her pussy too. She told him, "Keep thrusting into me." Her arm signaled what her fingers were doing. In a well timed minute, she added a breathless, "Yes, Ben, make me cum." It had to be real. She convinced me, as she stumbled to lie on the floor and reach for Ben's unseen cock. The camera saw her spread wide, red and swollen. Randy's and Carl's timed sigh told us that he had slipped to the hilt in her. We couldn't see him in her; but their hips, bodies and lips were in perfect time, demanding a mutual release. She was almost there. His body shuddered. Her hands flew to his ass and pulled him tight just as his body arched and he roared "Now." I thought his young, strong body would rip her apart, but she spread wider to urge him on. It was perfect for film. He finished but she urged him on. Six or eight more thrusts and her body arched, lifting the young "Ben." Contractions still went through his back. I could feel her pussy sucking. This doll could adlib. She rolled over on top, slid down his body and cleaned his cock with her hungry mouth. Her pussy glistened and ran an unbroken stream down her thigh while she worked. I wasn't sure what would happen next but the entire crew broke into applause. Randy stood up, curtsied, wiped some cum from her cheek, put it into her mouth and exited, stage left, to clean up. Poor Carl was unmoving, flat on the floor with a not very impressive wilted dick resting on his thigh. I had not watched Stinky. I knew he had given instructions to Randy via a speaker in her ear. I knew he had frantically positioned the cameras, lighting and sound. He was a sweaty exhausted happy mess. I went to find Randy and thank her a million times. She said she would be available for a "get even fuck" scene, another Mrs. Robinson scene where Ben learns to go down on her, still another where Elaine Robinson gets involved making a threesome (talk about pushing the censors) and a dominatrix part. She agreed to sign with us and help with "edgy" ideas. Randy was a pro but she had her age insecurities, "So, was I OK, Ike? I wasn't too old? I can still be hot?" "Randy, you got every person out there hot at bothered. You turned a mundane idea into something special. You were perfect." "Did I even get to you?" "You still are getting to me. My mouth is watering." She stepped into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling her damp naked body to mine. Just as her lips closed over mine, I thought about her sucking cock and the stream of her and Carl's cum running down leg. Her lips were soft. Her body was hot but was covered with a sheen of damp cool sweat. She was easy to kiss. We practiced with our lips and tongues for a few minutes. Randy's hand slid down the front of my body and cupped my ragingly hard cock. "Why don't you push that into me and use me. Fuck me and cum." "I want to. Your kisses have my head swimming. Before I would fuck you, I would want to go down on you but you are full of another man's cum. I would want you to get so wild that I would know that you were not acting. I have to get back to the crew. Can I possibly get a rain check?" "You're a stunt man. Can you take me rough, make me do what you tell me and fuck me until I pass out?" "I can do those things." "Then you have a rain check for any time day or night. If someone is in your way, push them aside and show me you know what I'm asking you to do." Normally, the rough stuff was not my style. I knelt in front of her cum soaked pussy and slowly pushed my fingers with my thumb tucked inside between the lips of her cunt. She took two steps back to lean against the wall. I followed. She rolled her hips and I pushed. The unprepared stretch gave her the pain she craved. She tightened a little too late and her lips closed around my wrist. I formed a fist and rolled my hand inside her, learning to molest her g-spot with every ridge on my hand. She began to slide down the wall. I slowed her by gripping around her throat and thrusting into her loosening sheath. Carl had not finished her. She was hot and unsatisfied. I took her roughly with my fist, squeezed her neck and bit at her nipples. It did not take long, the old pro screamed, squirted around my wrist and thrust to take more of my forearm. I was learning fast about her needs. Her eyes were only half open but they followed me. Her body was satisfied, sitting in a pool of her own cum. Her cunt did not resist me pulling out but her face showed that she was tender. Randy was surprised when I stood and straddled her nude, satisfied body. She was slumped against the wall. Her head had rolled to the side. Only her eyes watched me. I unzipped my pants and fished out my uncomfortable cock. The helmet was so hard it was blue. I pointed it at her and began to jerk off. Her eyes flashed and she started to move. "Don't move. This time, my cum splatters on your body where it wants to. Another time, you will have to suck it until it is soft and then I will piss on your breasts. That will make me hard again. You will have to ride me and piss all around my cock after you cum." With the last word of my fantasy, my first rope hit her chin and dropped onto her right breast. I leaned forward so my less powerful spurts would drop onto her breasts and trickle to fill her belly button. She moaned when I knelt down, rubbed my cum all over her neck, cheeks, chest and down over her cunt. Her tongue lashed out and licked my hand. My cock jerked. "You hot little vixen, I haven't even had you yet. You didn't let me finish my fantasy before I started to want you again. I'm thinking about your ass now. Go get cleaned up before you kill me and mess up my plans for the series." Randy smiled, bounced up like nothing had happened and swung her ass seductively on each step that she took toward the bathroom. Just before she went in, she looked back at me and said, "I like all your ideas, cowboy. You seem to know what I want."