Denise's face turned a sickly gray and she began to vomit a greenish bile of about the consistency of curdled milk. She opened her eyes, looked at Roger, and said, "I'm sorry," just before another gout of the mess spewed from her mouth.
In its own way it was a fascinating thing, almost a parody of Frank's orgasm. But at the same time it was horrible, and Denise looked small and helpless as she vomited her guts onto the floor. Connie heard Roger curse, and she was afraid to look at him.
She and the two other girls took Denise into the bathroom for a clean-up. The blonde had indeed been partying the night before, and she'd done a bang-up job of it. She was in no shape to continue, and she sat on the john saying, "I'm very sorry," over and over. Connie went out to break the news to Roger.
He took it as badly as she'd expected he would. His face got red, and he smashed his fist on a tabletop. "Goddamn it, I should have gotten Sarah Nicholson and told Denise to go fuck herself! Now look at what she's done to us. We've lost the whole fucking afternoon. The lousy cunt!"
"I'm sorry," Connie said softly. "But she really is sick."
"I'm the one who was sick," he countered. "I had some nice times with her once, and I thought I'd do her a favor. She wanted into porno. I was willing to give her a chance. And she's fucked me for it."
She could share his feelings. The film had become important to her, too, in the past few days. It was Roger's first feature-length movie, and if he blew it, he might not get another chance. She understood his frustration. Time and money were tight, and his backers wanted a finished product, not excuses. But fly as she would, she couldn't exactly bring herself to join in his resentment of Denise. The girl had tried. It must have been a harrowing experience for her, a battle against the butterflies in her, stomach, and she had done her best. But her best wasn't good enough.
She felt Roger touch her shoulder and she lifted her eyes. "Connie," he was saying, "I wouldn't ask you to do this unless there wasn't any other way. But there isn't any other way. Will you?"
She started to ask what he meant but then she understood.
"You're crazy!" she yelled. "You're absolutely crazy!" She was aware that every eye in the room was upon her. "No, I will not! What if someone – my daughter, my son – oh, Roger!"
"Be sensible," he replied evenly. "This film is a piece of commercial crap. It'll be shown around town for a few weeks in sleazy theaters. It might even get a few play dates in other towns, but I doubt it a hell of a lot. Porno movies are screened and forgotten. There'll be a fake name for you in the credits, if we have enough budget for credits, and unless you tell someone you were in it, nobody will ever know."
"No," she said quietly, but the pleading in his eyes reached out and grabbed her where she was weakest, in her heart.
"Look, I've done it myself, in loops, and if a man had bombed put this afternoon I'd be dropping my jeans and taking over for him right now. And didn't you tell me last night that this was just a form of acting? You can act. Oh, damn it, Connie, won't you do it for me?" He took her hands. "I need you."
She wanted to say no again, and she really wanted to mean it, but she couldn't. The word was on her lips but her hands were clutched in his, the energy of him was flowing into her body, and she told herself, don't you love him? "All right," she said.
She felt naked under the pink robe, and with good reason. The lights trained upon her were unbearably hot, but not half so hot as the burning eyes she could sense. Roger had cleared the set at her request. Everyone was gone except the people necessary for the shooting. She didn't want to be ogled, but she didn't feel any different knowing that everyone was gone except Roger and his small crew. When this was over, she told herself, so were they. How could he ask her to do this for him, to prostitute herself in front of a camera for his sake? How could she have accepted his request? Wasn't she just as bad as he? There was still time to turn round, to announce that she wasn't going through with it, but. She heard the rapping on the door and her hand streaked toward the knob. There was dialogue but she couldn't remember it verbatim, so she merely improvised, keeping the sense if not the words. The sound of her voice was like a continuous roll of thunder – she was astonished by its strength.
Frank walked past her, and she saw that he wasn't hard, as the script demanded. His pants were tight, however, and she could see the snaky lump of his penis. What was she supposed to say now? Something about his erection – she wasn't sure. But hesitation was fatal, with the camera running. Connie said, "My God, is that an erection? Have you really got a hard-on?" Frank nodded and she dropped to her knees before him. Wasn't she supposed to undress first? Oh, the hell with it!
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?"
Frank sat up. "I doubt it," he said, shaking his limp dick. "That was my fourth cum shot today. I don't think I have anything left."
"Woman on top," Roger suggested. "If that doesn't get him up, he's dead for sure."
Frank moved into position, sitting up straight, and Connie mounted him, her back to his front. She rubbed her cunt on his wet, limp cock, trying to make it stiffen. He seemed dead indeed. She raised herself slightly and stuffed him into her cunt, massaging his muscle with her cuntal ring. There was a stirring of life in Frank's penis, but only a stirring. Connie began to sway from side to side, applying all the pressure at her command. Slowly, very slowly, his rod bloomed for her, and she changed her pattern to an up-down movement that gently cultivated his returning erection.
"Good," Roger said approvingly, checking them with a light meter. "We might as well start now, while they're into it and he's still up," he told the photographer, who nodded in agreement.
"Does this give you a charge?" Connie wondered, rising and falling with a soft rhythmic bounce. "Does it turn you on to see me doing this?"
"For God's sake, Connie!" he protested.
"Watch closely, then," she snapped back, "because it's the nearest you're going to get to me. From now on!"
He frowned, but that was the moment the camera's soft whirring began, and Roger moved back so his shadow wouldn't fall on the scene in progress.
Connie closed her eyes and began to fuck, smiling in satisfaction as she felt Frank get harder and harder inside. His hands came up to clutch her breasts, and she closed her own hands over them. She felt him take her nipples between his fingers – they were still hard and even a bit warm – and it was easy to fall into the erotic pattern.
Connie alternated between up-down and side-to-side, throwing in new twists whenever she felt a weakening of Frank's already overworked pecker. He wasn't rock hard inside her, the way she liked a cock to be, but he was doing all right, considering. She knew that her lips were curling into a smile, but she didn't want it to be the piggish smile of an actress miming unendurable ecstasy. Instead, she made herself think of that first night she'd spent with Roger, of the delight they'd shared, of the joys she thought she'd found, and of the bittersweet ending the story had come to, this afternoon. She only hoped that her face was registering her thoughts.
Frank tugged at her left tit and she leaned her head back toward him. "Let's go onto the floor," he whispered. "You on your back. Okay?"
She nodded and lifted herself from him. His cock flopped as it left her vagina, almost soft again, but she threw herself down, reaching up to pet his prick. It stiffened a little under her caresses, and then he was upon her. Connie reached between them and guided Frank into her pussy, where she felt him take on a trifle more rigidity.
She raised her legs automatically, to clutch him as he entered her, but he pushed down the knee which was nearest the camera, and she thought, Of course! She was blocking the view!
He hugged and puffed as he rode inside her, and Connie screwed herself back at him, but she could tell it was a losing struggle. Frank's control over his pecker was nearly gone, and she doubted whether he could keep hard long enough to reach an orgasm. Certainly it wouldn't be a big, splashing cum like the others he'd done today. All because of the one wasted on Denise.
"Now," he said, pulling out. His hand wrapped around his cock, the tool flipping as he stroked it, but only a watery burst of jism spurted forth, a few lukewarm drops which bounced onto Connie's stomach. Frank sank back onto his calves, shaking his head sadly. He looked at the camera. "I think I've had it," he said morosely.
"Okay," Roger called in reply. "Just go through the motions of balling. I want a close-up of your faces. We'll take care of it in the cutting room."
Frank lay down on Connie and she held him tightly. He kissed her with his tongue, slurping it across her upper lip and around her nose. It tickled, but she resisted the impulse to giggle. Her mouth opened and she caught his tongue with her lips, pulling it between them. Frank's mouth slammed against hers and their heads rocked as she sucked his tongue furiously.
"Okay, cut!" Roger called. Frank tried to raise his face but Connie still held him by the tongue. He wiggled it inside her mouth, and she let him go gracefully. The man rose to his feet, his fucked-out tool dangling.
"You were okay," he told Connie. "Thanks for helping me when I couldn't keep it up."
"Tricks of the trade," she replied with a smile.
Roger joined them. "Good show, Frank, and thanks. I'll call you when I get another job lined up. Right?"
Frank laughed. "Sure, if you give me a couple of weeks to rest up. Christ, I have a date tonight! Somebody's gonna be disappointed as hell." He went off to dress and depart.
Connie sat up. "Well?" she asked Roger. "Did I fulfill your expectations?"
He didn't answer.
"I think I'm going home too," she added. "If I see you on the street, I'll pretend I didn't."
"We need some close-ups," Roger said. "Meat shots. The old in-and-out."
"Frank's through for the day – for the week, I'd suspect."
"I wasn't talking about Frank."
"You?"
"I told you, Connie. If a male actor bombs out, it's up to me to cover for him." He turned to the cameraman. "Come on in for the CU. No sound. You can go home, Dave."
He was undressing as he spoke, and Connie noticed for the first time, that her ex-lover was sporting a massive erection. She'd rarely seen him this hard without any stimulation from her, and there was an ache in her chest when she remembered that she'd sworn to herself that they were finished.
He knelt beside her where she sat, and he put his hand on her shoulder. "I know you're pissed off at me, and you have a right to be. But I wouldn't have asked you to fill in if I hadn't been desperate. And you were great. Wait till you see yourself in the final cut. I was afraid you'd sizzle the film in the camera while we were shooting. Connie, I still love you and I still want you for my lady."
As he spoke, Roger shifted his hands to her knees, parting them gently. Connie's eyes filled with tears as she looked into his, and she stretched out on the floor without being asked. He slid between her legs, bumping her pussy with his burning erection. She felt her clitoris throb in counterpoint, and she spread her knees further apart, making her slit wink open.
"Just the organs," Roger told the cameraman, reaching down to insert himself in Connie. But her hand was there ahead of his, and she pulled him inside her. His cock slid all the way home, nudging the mouth of her uterus on the first stroke, and Connie opened her lips in a gasping cry of delight.
"Oh," she said, "I think I love you again, Roger!"
His reply was to pull himself back and shove forward once again. She brought her cunt toward him, engulfing his meat with her slick glove, and she pawed lovingly at his back and shoulders. Roger's face dipped close, his mouth seeking hers, and Connie received him. They battled with their tongues for a long, sweet moment, then parted with a sound like the popping of a champagne cork. It tingled on her eardrums until the mad tat-a-tat of her heart replaced it, and she wanted only to kiss him, to bite his neck and face, but above all to be fucked by him.
It was only the second time Connie had ever made love in front of someone else. The first was just a few minutes ago, with Frank, but that wasn't really making love. It had only been for the benefit of the camera. The camera was still here – she could hear its gentle hum not far away – but it didn't count. She caressed Roger as if they lay on a private bed of love, and she opened her cunt time after time to receive the penetrating thrusts of his cock.
"Do it harder," she whispered. "Ram me!"
"Glad to," he sighed back, doing just that. He was always big, he was always hard, but now he seemed swollen enormously, and stiff beyond her wildest dreams. His cock was like a heated iron ingot in her cunt and she writhed and twisted as she sucked it home.
She heard the rustle of her pubic hair as his bone parted her petals and slicked through the dark curls. She could feel his fur, too, when he was fully inserted and his pubes lay pressed heavily against hers. His hairs tickled the splayed lips of her pussy, making her twitch and jiggle in response, increasing the delightful vaginal caress she was already giving his rod.
"Was I really good?" she asked between gasps as his organ experimented with provocative new rhythms.
"Dynamite," he said sincerely. "You could be the biggest porno star. Ever. I couldn't believe it. God, Connie, I got so fucking hot watching you work on Frank! I got hard, I was sweating all over, I wanted to run on, kick him out of the way, and shove my cock into you."
"Just like you're doing now?"
"This is only for the close-up," he informed her. "You wait till I get you alone. Tonight I'm going to show you what fucking is all about."
"Promise?" she laughed, but he didn't answer. She'd felt the telltale jerky shudder of his pole. He was starting to cum.
"Sorry, babe," he said, "but we need a splasher." Roger dragged his cock from her moist hole – semen was already spurting in white strings from his tip – and he ejaculated onto her breasts and belly. She reached down to touch the goo he'd deposited on her body, swirling it on her skin like finger-paint.
Roger said, "Cut! Wrap!" and, without missing a beat, he stuffed three of his large fingers into the hole he'd just been fucking. Connie almost jumped off the floor when she felt his savage digital penetration, and she cried out in panic. But before the echo of her words had begun to die, Roger's head was between her thighs and he was licking her cunt while he fingered it.
He ate her out with a passionate need that was stronger than anything she'd known from him in their relationship so far. His tongue stabbed deeply, alongside his probing fingers, and she could only twist and shake while he ate her. She felt her clit swell to what seemed a mountain-sized lump of raw tissue, and when his teeth seized upon it, Connie had no alternative. She screamed and teat her fists on the floor and, within seconds, felt her juices flow in a steaming river to meet her lover's fingers and mouth.
It was about a week later that Connie learned that her porno-movie exploits – along with her real name – had been splashed all over the pages of Twat.