Steve pumps away, whispers:
“Fancy meeting like this again, lady. Destiny, I’m sure.”
The director has them change positions.
Now a small redhead is asked to eat her out while Steve’s long, thin member invests her mouth and forces its way almost down her throat. Another’s hand roughly manipulates her nipples, twisting, pulling, squeezing between sharp nails. She can’t see anything. The strong lights blind her and all she can hear is the monotonous whirr of the nearby camera’s motor as it captures the scene and her infamy forever. The redhead isn’t very good. She has a small bald patch and a birthmark on her back, like a map of Italy. Her aroma is distinctive. Do all redheads smell this way?
Behind her, she hears one of the guys cry out that he’s coming, and the cameraman rushes off to catch the moment; the man’s momentary partner fakes aural orgasm. Katherine tastes the pre-ejaculate filtering from the tip of the Cuban’s cock shortly before he withdraws. The sparky assistant brings them all cool drinks and they move inside the villa.
The women don’t speak to each other as they troop in. The men follow. The tubby one has lost his erection. As the next camera setup is prepared, he strokes himself to regain his rigidity. It doesn’t work. The director asks the girls to help him out.
“I don’t do that,” the redhead says.
The peroxide blonde says:
“He smells. At the pool was enough.”
Katherine lowers her eyes when the young director looks in her direction.
“Okay, okay already,” he calls the young assistant over. “Hey, Markie, this is what they taught you at film school, no? Help the poor guy out.”
“You bastard,” the all-purpose assistant answers, but moves over to the temporarily impotent actor and takes hold of his cock as she lowers her mouth toward it. “Better not film any of this.”
Soon, the actor is functional again.
He’s instructed to mount Katherine in the missionary position while the others adopt a variety of lovemaking positions around them. He squeezes himself inside her and quickly loses his hardness. They’re filming the others. He moves ever so slightly inside her so as not to slip out. He winks at her. She’s quite happy to keep on pretending. This goes on forever, and no one notices their lack of ardour as the other couples make up in noise and movement for the faking couple.
“Cut. You can all rest a bit now. Steve,” the director calls over to him. “You seem fresh. In better shape than the other guys. Okay, you and curly hair here, let’s do the anal.”
The others walk away to the pool.
Katherine suddenly realizes what comes next.
“No, no, I can’t do that,” she says, pleadingly, to the men, the young whey-faced director, the aggressively erect Steve and the sweating cameraman.
“Love,” the director says. “It’s part of the deal. Every hardcore movie has anals now. That’s what the guys want. Don’t tell me you’ve never done one. Everyone in the business has to. It’s the money shot.”
“I won’t come inside you,” Steve adds. “When the time comes, I’ll pull out and do a facial, okay?”
The cameraman signifies his assent.
“No,” Katherine timidly pleads one last time.
Steve takes hold of her wrist and twists it hard.
“Eddie,” he says, “you’re a bit of a tease, aren’t you. I remember the last time, you like to play hard to get, hey; you always have cold feet, don’t you?”
Markie the assistant comes over as they set Katherine down on her stomach and help her raise her rump so that the camera can catch it all. They adjust the lights. Shine the warm spots on her utterly exposed rear. Markie carefully sponges Katherine’s genitals and between her cheeks, to clean the perspiration away and then gently pours some oil around her anal aperture as well as Steve’s penis still standing at attention.
Katherine closes her eyes. She’s never been entered there. Penetrated. Fucked. Sodomized. But, she remembers all those nights lying in silence next to her sleeping, cuckolded husband, her whole body consumed by the thoughts of transgression. Her lover had soon discovered how sensitive she was down there and they had often speculated about it. Sometime after they had split up and he was writing her these desperate letters to get her back, change her mind, he had revealed that for weeks he had kept some butter in the fridge in his office for that very purpose.
The cameraman adjusts his focus.
“Filming.”
Steve inserts one finger inside her to spread the oil around. With his other hand, he parts her arse cheeks as wide as he can and places his hard cock against the puckered opening. Initial pressure, the sphincter muscles resist and he makes no headway. He grabs his stem and holding it in a tight vice manually begins to spear her anus. The head moves an inch or so past the outer ring. It feels like constipation backwards. She clenches her teeth. The lubrication takes effect and with one swift move the head inserts itself. Katherine holds her breath.
“Yeah, nice and slow,” the cameraman, or is it the director, says.
She’s tearing, she knows it. Her opening is being sundered. Literally split apart. She’s often fingered herself there, but this is like a knife, a pole, a gun.
Steve thrusts his hips and breaks through. The cock savagely tears in and impales her to the hilt.
Katherine screams.
This is worse than anything ever. She wants to faint, die, make it all go away. Her whole soul seems focused on the opening to her arse where the long, thin cock is planted. Steve ceases all movement. She senses the cock still growing inside her, her inner walls being forcibly pushed further and further back.
“Focus closer. Now. Now.”
The man initiates a steady movement, a quick coming and going inside her guts. To her utter shame, Katherine feels an odious sort of pleasure, excitement radiating out from her forced aperture down to her cunt, up through her stomach. Her heart falters. The movements increase. Every reverse movement of the cock a few inches out of her hole pulls the inner flesh out, the tight, textured pink private flesh sticking like glue to the dark thrusting cock, and then back in again. Secretions accelerate, coat the moving penis trunk in a ring of white thin cream.
“Hey, she looks good,” another male voice explains. The others have come in from the pool to watch the action.
“Yes,” says Steve, between regular thrusts. “She has the perfect butt for anal. Great fit, man.”
The other man is in front of the kneeling Katherine. She looks up. He’s growing erect, his pole rising steadily as he keeps on watching the Cuban digging into her depths in a metronomic movement, and her head shaking forward with every thrust.
“What about a DP, man?” the voyeur asks the director.
“Good idea,” he says.
Katherine’s mouth is so dry. She gasps for breath.
“Look, she’s all flushed,” the other man says.
Katherine’s face and chest have gone a deep shade of pink. Like a stain racing across her body, as the orgasm approaches, stronger than anything before. The cock in her arse still keeps on moving deeper, seemingly labouring her intestines, she wills it further, her inner muscles gripping the hard tool, sucking it in a vampiric embrace.
Steve slows down, pulls her back slightly, still carefully lodged in her rectum and the other porno actor slides down on his back and moves under her raised upper body. She can feel her sweat raining down over him. He slithers into position and positions his cock under her sex lips. She feels the wetness shamefully dripping from her cunt onto his glans and he inserts himself.