Connie unzipped him and reached inside. His cock was semi-stiff, which wasn't bad considering that not twenty minutes ago he'd dumped his load on Denise. She felt him up, then decided it might be better if she lowered his pants. By the time she got them down he was good and stiff, his dick bouncing before her where she knelt.
Close up, she noticed things about him she'd missed earlier. His glans was red as a strawberry and she rubbed her face with it. "It's beautiful," she told Frank, just before she kissed the tip of his organ. She could hear the smack of her lips, and it surprised her pleasantly. He had a salty, cummy taste that lingered on her mouth, and she kissed him again.
Connie couldn't recall any more of the dialogue she was supposed to deliver, so she began to wing it. She improvised something about her widowhood and her sexual needs, then stood up. Now, before she forgot it completely, she'd better throw off the robe and let down her hair.
She dropped the pink gown, suddenly conscious that she was naked and that the camera was still running. The curlers were loose and she shucked them away quickly. Something was wrong. This wasn't how the scene went. Oh, fuck the script!
She grabbed Frank's hand and led him toward the couch. He went, rolling his eyes in an unspoken question. Connie sat down, her legs parting, and she touched her bush. "On your knees," she told him. "First I want you to lick my pussy. I want you to kiss it, and lick it, and suck it. Fuck me with your tongue and fingers before you fuck me with your big, beautiful cock."
He seemed to know that she was in control. He sank at once, taking, off his shin as he settled on his knees. Connie saw a blur of motion past the lightbank, and she knew it was the cameraman. He moved in closer as Frank began to tongue her pussy. She looked toward the camera and smiled. For whom did she mean that smile? She didn't know. Maybe it was just her character reacting.
Frank used his fingers to open her up, and his tongue snaked up and down her slit, prodding then labia from side to side. He was affectionate in his licking, but he was conscious of his camera angles, too. The cameraman leaned in closer, to pick up a very tight close-up of Frank's mouth at work, and Connie wondered if he were going to stuff the lens into her twat along with Frank's tongue. In another moment she was aware of the camera's change of direction. Now it was on her. She narrowed her eyes to slits, her head lazing back, and she let the very tip of her tongue protrude between her lips, sliding from one corner of her mouth to the other in a slow, sensual progress.
The photographer stepped back for a longer shot. Connie didn't look directly at him – that was a mark of amateurism – instead cupping her breasts and strumming the nipples with her fingers. God! She hadn't expected her nipples to be so hard, but they were indeed. Was it Frank's mouth that was turning her on – or was it the camera?
She pinched her nips with her fingers, sighing for real as her tits hardened and swelled in her grasp. Were they getting it all? Wasn't this what Roger wanted from her? "Oh, I'm cumming!" she moaned, locking her legs around Frank's neck and smothering him with her muff. She wasn't cumming, not really, but it seemed the proper, dramatic thing to do right now, and she threw herself into making it authentic. On the other hand, Frank's face was thrust tightly into her now, and he was taking advantage of it to lick her inside and out. His clever tongue stole between her cuntal folds, seeking out the warm nest of her vagina, and she felt him brush her clit lightly in passing. An oozing wetness blossomed in her pussy and she twitched her toes responsively.
Her moans and sighs continued, and her head tossed from side to side. Funny. Pretending to be super aroused had only reminded her of how near she was to that state in reality. Connie unclasped her legs, allowing Frank's head to rise from her pubes, and she took his hands. He lifted as she tugged, and she pulled till he'd risen fully and was on the couch with her.
His cock was good and hard now, and she watched it wiggle expressively. The foreskin had retracted and his berry-red glans stuck out boldly, a teensy drop of wetness glimmering in the slitted tip. She had nothing to guide her now but impulse. The script had been thrown out the window some time ago. Connie took his penis in one hand and put it in her mouth.
She sucked him furiously, one time, one long time, and then she let him slide free. He was shiny from her saliva, even redder at the end if that were possible, and she began to kiss him up and down. She heard him groan in pleasure as her teeth scraped the base of his stalk, and she heard Roger yell, "Cut!"
Connie lifted her head and looked past the lights, toward her lover. The cameraman had disappeared into the shadows to put a fresh magazine in his machine, but he was ready in a moment. "Take it from there," Roger said, his voice shaky. "We'll cut in a reaction shot to cover the jump."
Fine, Connie thought. She returned to what she had been doing, and one of her hands covered Frank's sac of nuts. Might as well go the whole route, she told herself, thrusting her other hand between her legs. It found her slit, still damp from Frank's tongue, and she rubbed it till it grew even damper.
"Oh, suck it," Frank said, his voice as trembly as Roger's had been.
Connie inserted three fingers into her cunt, almost whining as her vaginal ring expanded to allow them entry. But her pussy accommodated itself soon enough, and she began to screw them in and out while she treated Frank to the oral technique Roger had come to like so much. She could feel Frank's blood pulsating in the barrel of his cock, and she nibbled and licked at him with an ever faster motion of her head.
From time to time she raised her face and let part of his dick find haven in her mouth. He wanted to pummel her deeply when she took him there, to drive his cock toward her throat, but it was Connie's mouth and she had no intention of being Linda Lovelace. When Frank's thrusts became too aggressive, she simply clamped her teeth a bit tighter behind the bulge of his knob, and he got the message quickly.
Her tongue tickled his glans while he was inserted, and it followed him when he retreated into the open. She rimmed his cockhead, and she could feel him swelling to even greater size as she caressed him.
Normally Frank's control was very good. He bragged, like most male porno stars, of being able to cum on cue. So Connie was astonished when she heard him grunt, and semen began to roll in a thick stream from his pecker. She moved toward it quickly, catching the falling pearls with her tongue and scooping them into her mouth. Just enough to let the camera see that she was drinking his sperm. The rest she let fall onto her face and neck, so that even the slowest filmgoer would be aware that Frank had reached a real, not a simulated, orgasm.
"Connie!" Roger called, his voice almost cracking, and she turned. The cameraman was only a couple of feet away, his lens aimed right at her face. She smiled coyly, and her tongue came out to lick at the semen spatters on her lower lip and chin. Roger called, "Cut!" once more.
She leaned back, patting Frank's cock, which had gone soft almost at the moment, of its eruption. He lay on the couch beside her, panting wearily. "That was okay," he said, and she nodded. Of course it was okay.
Roger came up to join her, dropping to his knees beside the couch. He put his hand an her thigh but she brushed it away. "Is that enough footage?" she asked.
"No, I don't think so," he sighed. "Why don't we try a straight fuck now? Is that okay with you?"
"You're the director," she said coldly. "If that's what you want." She patted Frank's knee. "But can he get it up?"