I keep a sexual diary. I started it during my year as Miss One World. There were times when we'd be traveling and there's nothing more boring than riding from, say, Japan to England on even the most luxurious jet It's just long hours of doing nothing, so I started keeping the journal to pass the time. I'd stopped drinking by that time, finding that it added unwanted ounces, so I couldn't do the martini bit all the way across the oceans and the continents.
I began by trying to remember my early life. Went back to the days when I played with myself. Days when I lost my virginity, found the joy of sex with Ruf, did the incest bit with poor old Juby. Oh, incidentally, I sent Juby a letter when I started getting my money from the films we did in Rome and told him that if he'd take care of my mdrn and be good to her I'd send him enough money so that he wouldn't have to steal water pumps anymore. I started with a couple of hundred a month and then, later on, I had more to send, so Juby and my mother moved into a new twelve-foot wide mobile home with air conditioning, and the last time I went down Juby had gone mod, buying those flare slacks and shaving regularly and I'll be damned if the old sonofabitch wasn't out chasing young chicks.
My big brother Sam got into a fight in a honky-tonk in the next county and got shot seven times. It did him in. Six he could have taken, because the first six were in non-vital places, but the seventh got him in the liver and he didn't make it. I didn't mind Juby chasing chicks, so long as he chased the ones who liked being caught. But I told him if he got into trouble he was on his own, that I'd put mother in a home and stop his allowance, so he was careful.
The real kick was when I went home and found him shagging around in turtle-necks and bell bottoms and was a pissed young lady until I went home one day in the middle of the afternoon when I was supposed to be in the next town and caught my dear, chubby old mom in bed with this nice elderly gentleman from down the road. She was put out and ashamed until I said, "Mom, do you enjoy it?"
She smiled sheepishly and said, "Honey, he does the naughtiest things and it makes me feel just wonderful. You know, with your daddy, I didn't really know what sex was."
So Juby was getting his kicks and my mom was getting hers with this nice elderly gentleman and old Ruf had latched onto an Italian countessa or some shit and was living the life of a playboy flitting all over Europe.
Those years get all mixed up in my mind. Things began to move fast after Carlo got killed. It looked bad for a while, because Carlo's main movie studio was all in debt and it was taken over by the Italian movie establishment and the man who moved in was a cold-hearted sonofabitch. His name was Roberto Cartechelli. He was forty-five, dapper, a conservative in view, both financially and politically, and he looked at me as if I were just so much meat when I went to him and asked him if he were going to live up to Carlo's contract with me and star me in Passion's Queen.
I was twenty-one years old. With the money I had been earning from the sex films I'd bought a knock-out wardrobe, took drama lessons, kept myself in shape by going regularly to a health farm for exercise and organic foods. I was a regular customer at the finest hairdresser's in Rome. I was a girl with obvious class, for I'd taken Italian lessons and English lessons. (You might not think so from the style of my writing, but I've taken pains to write as I used to think.) I was ready for Passion's Queen.
"Ah, Miss McRae," Cartechelli said, "as you know, this picture is an ambitious undertaking. The sets alone would cost much money. And we, frankly, hesitate to risk such a large investment on an unknown actress."
I knew that I could handle the part. But I could see that merely talking to Cartechelli would not do the trick. I'd read and reread the lines of the screen play and I knew them by heart
The picture was about Marie Antoinette. But it was not just another historical show piece, it was an adult study of Marie's life, and as you probably know, Marie Antoinette was a sexual being. That was why I was sure that I could play the part better than any actress living, for I was also a sexual being.
"We will let you know," Cartechelli said. "Please have patience." I waited around for a couple of weeks and the trades 169 printed rumors of Cartechelli trying to get Loren for the part. I breathed a sigh of relief when she stated publi-cally that she would not take it. Then I decided it was time for me to do something. I called Cartechelli. "Look," I said, "I've spent a year getting ready for this part, the least you can do is give me a shot at it." "Of course," he said.
"There's one scene I'd like to do for you. In fact, it's already on film. May I show it to you?"
"I didn't know any of the picture had been filmed," he said. '
"It was just a rush," I said. "But I'd like to show it to you."
I went into Carlo's old office, missing that wop sonofa-bitch something terrible. Roberto Cartechelli was seated behind Carlo's desk. I had the film in my bag. I knew the set-up, so I went into the adjoining room, loaded the film in the projector, cocked it for automatic start from the desk and went back into the room to lower the lights and close the drapes. Cartechelli sat glumly behind the desk. I sat on the corner of it, swinging my leg.
"Mr. Cartechelli, as you know, the intent of this film is to show the human side of those who were riding the crest of that wave of revolution which began to change the world. The author seems to be asking the question, why could not Louis and the members of his court see the discontent of the people? Why did they not realize that things would soon be out of control and institute simple reforms. Historians agree that it would have 4aken very little action on the part of the rulers to avert the Revolution. One important part of the puzzle was the character of Marie Antoinette. And our author has chosen to treat her as a totally sexual being, selfish,
spoiled. Seeing her in this light is important to the overall message of the film." "Yes, yes," he said impatiently.
"Antoinette's mind was between her legs, if you'll excuse the vulgarity," I went on, "and because she was rather indiscrete, she gave the Jacobians much ammunition for their propaganda. They told the people that while the people starved, Antoinette ate caviar and committed adultery with the king's own brother. It was Antoinette's behaviour which helped to precipitate the Revolution and we try, in this movie, to understand her. Thus," I said, getting him ready, "there is one key scene in the first reel. This is the scene which sets the mood for the entire picture, which presents Antoinette as she was."
I pressed the button. The leader I had spliced onto a certain scene began to run through the projector. "She has found that her new husband, the King to be, is not at all, interested in sex because of his deformed penis. She, on the other hand, has been looking forward to marriage. Disappointed, she turns to the Count Carlo was not yet certain just how implicit he could or would be in this scene, but he was definite on one thing. At the moment of Antoinette's satisfaction, there was to be a close-up pf her face, and it was first and foremost in his mind to have that close-up show how much Antoinette enjoyed sex, how much it meant to her."
I paused. "Here she is at the moment of her fulfillment. She has been to a masked ball. She has not removed her mask." This bit was necessary because, of course, what I was showing Cartechelli was shots of me making it with the three stooges.
I came on the screen. I had my eyes closed. My mouth was twisted in a sneer of ecstatic lust. My head rolled from side to side. My teeth showed, held tightly tightly together. My sex showed on my face. The moment went on for a long minute and I felt a twinge, because I knew how I'd been feeling at that glorious moment. It wasn't acting. It was for real. I had one of the three stooges firmly planted in my cunt and I'd been teased by hours of film making into a super case of the hots. I was really climaxing and it was awesome, if I do say so myself. I've told you that when I'm coming the look on my face is eternal woman, eternal sex.
"We shot several takes," I said, as a second scene came on, the same, close-up, my face in bliss.
I sneaked a look at Cartechelli's face. He was frozen. His mouth was open. His eyes were wide, unblinking. He held that pose through three more climaxes, spliced together. There was no other thing on the screen, no man, no indication that I was actually being fucked.
When it was over, I turned on the lights. "If you can find anyone who can play that scene better, I step down. I withdraw from my contract without contest."
He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I must admit, Miss McRae, that I am impressed."
He was impressed enough to call me to the studio for an interview with his hot-shot director. Poor old Dirk had been phased out because of his drinking, but he came out smelling like a rose, because Carlo had done the wise thing, he'd kept his porno film firm separate from the main operation. Dirk got his hands on the contracts, the inventory and he'd made enough loot to buy some equipment, so he was still in business and if the thing didn't go through with Cartechelli I could always go with Dirk and make my living with stag films, But there I was in the main studios, with this fop of a director, and he was talking to me and making me walk
and then I read a few scenes from the screenplay, impressing him because I knew my lines by heart. He told me to go into a dressing room and put on one of the thin, revealing gowns in which Marie Antoinette met with her lovers in the film. I came out. The thing was so thin that you could see all of me, and not hardly leave anything to the imagination. I was just twenty-one years old but I'd been around enough to know when to try to bribe a guy with me. I'd known, for example, that such an attempt would have backfired with Roberto Car-techelli, but in the eyes of my director, Michel Giorelli, I could see the lust which told me that I could influence his thinking with my bod. "Ah," he said, "very nice."
"You be the Count," I said, "and I'll run through the seduction scene in the first reel." "Ah," he said. "I am no actor."
Antoinette, having been rebuffed by Louis, who was going off on a hunting trip, had come to the Count's bedroom in tears. I stood there for a moment and thought all the sad things I could and my eyes began to blink and the tears began to seep out and then, psyched up, I burst into the scene. It went something like, "I hate him, oh, how I hate him," and like that and then the Count tried to soothe her and their bodies came into contact and woops, there was a different feel then.
I stormed through the anger and then, clinging to Michel, I changed and my bare, or almost bare, boobs were up against him and my mound, which was nicely protuberant, was rubbing on his cock and I sent soft and sexy and when I kissed him I knew that I had his interest "You do that well," he said. "Act or kiss?" I asked.
"Both, darling." "I enjoy doing both for the right man," I said.
"Ah," he whispered, and I felt his'cock go hard against me. He put his arms around me. Me and generations of down-trodden women put all we had into the act.
"Michel," I whispered, "I must confess that I find you very attractive."
"Perhaps," he said, looking around, "we should go into the dressing room and talk."
He grabbed me the minute we were inside and laid his mouth on mine and lost no time at all in fumbling his way up to seize my right boob. I laid against him and gave him my tongue and felt his cock. It seemed to be rather small. For my taste I'd have preferred one of the stooges, but this was business. "Kitsy, Kitsy," he said.
"Michel, Michel," I said, trying to sound like an early Loren.
He was about to demolish the gown. I said, "We shouldn't destroy studio property." I shucked out of it and posed for him and his eyes popped. He rushed me and enclosed me in his arms and I gave.
I sidled over to a bed. "Michel, darling, aren't you just awfully hot in those clothes?"
He broke records getting out of them and his cock was small. It was not much -bigger than a good man's ring finger. But he was hard and ready and when he came to me I fell down and took every inch of it, all four of them, into my mouth and gave him a super job and he was crying and moaning and tossing his hips to drive his little cock into my mouth. When he was getting really wild, I pulled away, lay down and held out my arms to him. He gasped and fell atop me. I guided his cock into me. I had worked up a heat, it doesn't take much for me, and I was eager to have in me even that tiny little member, and it felt good and by working my ass wildly I could get a feel out of it. He worked and pumped and then he stopped. "What?" I whispered. "Ah, Miss McRae…" "Gail me Kitsy." "Kitsy, there is, ah, I mean…"
"You want to do it a different way?" I asked. "Anything, Michel, darling."
He rolled me over onto my stomach. I was thinking that with his four inches he'd have trouble getting it in from that angle, but he took his fingers and lubed my anus with our juices and I knew that he had something different in mind. If he'd been a big stud I'd have said no go, because a huge cock can tear a girl's ass out, but his was small and not much bigger hard than the Congressman's cock had been soft. I relaxed and pushed on it as he tried to get it in and I felt it pop past my spincter muscles and then I felt a hard cock, for the first time, go up into my bowels and it was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to me. I mean, if you're lucky enough to have loose muscles and can take a huge cock, it must be great, and if you're not the best is to have a small cock" there. I love anything new. And this was new. It was my first hard-cock reaming from the rear and I felt it push up into the heat and odd softness of my anus and then Michel was bucking and lunging and I was swirling my ass and it seemed that he was reaching far, far up inside me. "You like?" he gasped.
"Oh, God, I love it," I said, meaning it. "Hit me hard, darling. Drive it in hard." He obliged. Then, knowing girls, I guess, he put one
hand under me and began to play with my clit and I boomed and gave him a swift ride, making my ass go in circles, sucking with my muscles to give him a feel there, trying to cut off his cock with my strong spincters. He worked mightily and drove his cock into me as fast as lightening and when I was coming he came into me and felt this vat of come jet into my warm ass and I moaned and wiggled and sucked on his cock with my anus and he groaned and jerked and then was still. "You came?" he asked. "Oh, wow," I said. "I sure did. That was great."
"The look you had when you were climaxing," he said. "I want to achieve that in that scene in the first reel." "You've got it, darling," I said.