Emma Ch. 34



Salim wasn’t at all sure she liked all the changes that her lover had dictated on her niece. First, the breasts, now so unnaturally firm and hard; resisting all attempts of gravity to lower their profile. Then the lips now in such a firm unchanging pout which made her seem as if she was constantly ready for sex, but also somehow moody and sullen when she wasn’t smiling, which was really most of the time. Next were the hips and upper thighs which, together with Amna’s newly trimmed waist, gave her a much more pronounced figure, so different from the slightly pudgy girl she’d originally fallen in love with. Now Fatima had dictated that Amna should remove all trace of pubic and anal hair (quite a feat in itself) achieved with waxing and depilatory cream. As Salim’s tongue roved over the smooth flatness of her niece’s vulva, she found it hard to reconcile it with the lush growth of dark hair that once flourished there. She found it difficult to believe that this was the same vulva, the long hairy strands of which used to entangle in between her teeth.

Fatima preferred this appearance. It matched her own pubic smoothness, which Fatima also found somewhat new and disturbing. Why shed such a natural and really rather friendly and reassuring growth? She especially didn’t like the sexual exercises which she insisted the young girl needed to further her career. Wasn’t her own lovemaking with Amna sufficient? And even that, Fatima did so much more roughly with the tools she had at her disposal. Was it necessary for Fatima to pretend to be a man: thrusting a dildo deeper inside Amna than all but the most well endowed man ever could. Fatima herself was not at all enthusiastic about using such aids, and had time and time again reproved Fatima when she surreptitiously tried to include them in their own sex life. Salim could live without them. Why couldn’t Fatima?

Salim was even less pleased the first time Fatima invited a man to her house to practice practical sex with her niece. Did it have to be brought so vulgarly to her attention? She felt restricted in her own home, forced to preserve her modesty under a scarf and a flowing ankle-length dress: only her hands and some of her face at all visible. Men were not welcome company as far as Salim was concerned. The silk underwear remained hidden out of sight, even though Amna remained naked in her newly constructed body; so accustomed now to her habitual nudity that she almost had to be reminded to put clothes on when she ventured out of the house. It was true that Amna felt less comfortable in clothes than before. The new contours of her body were not designed to be hidden. Jeans squeezed uncomfortably tight over her broader hips and tee shirts pushed upwards by the steady pressure of her breasts.

Salim was more disturbed to see Fatima, the woman she loved to distraction, making no attempt to present an appearance of even secular modesty in front of Robert. She wore nothing but her most lacy and slight underwear, and of course the black silk stockings and stilettos she so rarely removed. Salim blushed as the details of her nipple appeared so obviously in the outline of the brassiere and was aware that had Fatima not shaved her pubic region so smoothly it would almost all have been revealed on the fringes of her red laced panties. However, Fatima not only insisted on dressing so immodestly, but also that Salim should hide her natural modesty to the extent of watching her niece and this man fucking together on Amna’s bed; the detritus of teen magazines, videos and compact discs cleared unceremoniously out of the way.

Somehow, watching Amna’s cunt being penetrated so close and so physically was even less pleasant than watching it on video, as Salim had had to do rather more often than she could care to remember. Fatima occasionally gave advice to Robert and Amna as to what they should do and how to do it, keeping her mind on the photogenic aspects of the physical act, ensuring that the thrusting penis and recipient cunt were on display at all times. Amna’s large breasts swung up and down, back and forth with the stiff unrippling rhythm that the silicone dictated. Finally, after how long Salim didn’t care to say and after the penis had thrust its way deep inside Amna’s anus as well, Robert pulled out his erect and throbbing penis and with the assistance of Amna’s tongue released spurt after spurt of semen onto Amna’s face and chest. A long trail of viscous liquid dribbled down the side of Amna’s nose, lightly luminescent against the darkness of her skin, and trailed several centimetres down below her chin. On Fatima’s urgent prompting she pretended to enjoy it, smiling in apparent ecstasy and moaning in a way that sounded so utterly false to Salim’s ears. Surely, the fact that Amna did this sort of thing on celluloid and acetate was enough.

But clearly not, as far as Fatima was concerned, who persuaded Salim to join her in applauding the success of Amna’s lovemaking. “Bravo!” Exclaimed Fatima clapping her hands. “Much better! One day you may even start enjoying it!”

Amna smiled foolishly as she wiped off the semen that wasn’t already beyond recall from her face and chest, and crawled over the bed towards Fatima in the obvious hope that Fatima would complement the lovemaking with her own affection. To Salim’s horror, it seemed that Fatima would at first, and in the presence of this strange man, as she removed her knickers and allowed them to drop to her feet. Salim’s horror deepened, however, as it became obvious that the object of her sexual advances was not to be Amna, who appeared relatively nonchalant at the fact, but Robert.

Fatima crawled onto the bed, past Amna, and over to Robert’s now limp penis which she nevertheless began coaxing into a new life with her lips and tongue. Salim covered her face with shame, but watched nonetheless, as Fatima took the growing penis into her mouth, while running her fingers up and down its length, pumping it into renewed life with each rhythmic caress, and its purple glans swelled to very much the size of Fatima’s open mouth. Fatima smiled lasciviously at Salim while exercising Robert’s member.

It was not at all long until that long penis was once again ensconced inside a cunt, but this time Fatima’s, with Amna participating on Fatima’s prompting by licking Fatima’s clitoris or nipples. Although Salim rarely if ever saw things from a male perspective, she could see that Robert was in a very fortunate position in having two beautiful female bodies, the only ones that Salim had ever loved and who she would always love to distraction, wrapped around him and ensuring that his penis would not easily remain limp for very long. It particularly disturbed her that Fatima showed rather more true and honest pleasure in the lovemaking than Amna ever had. Her cries of passion were unfeigned, guttural and frequent.

Salim could only take so much of this. Despite her normal desire to please Fatima’s every whim, she raised herself to her feet and was about to stride out of the bedroom to where she could more easily forget all that was going on under her roof. However, this immediately prompted Fatima, now wearing only her black stockings, her slim breasts hardly moving at all despite the rapid bobbing up and down of her body, to break loose of the lovemaking and run over to Salim and grasp her by the hand. Salim’s face was flushed and there was a slight urgency in her expression.

“Don’t leave, Sally! Stay. It’s your turn next!”

“My turn!” Gasped Salim in sheer terror. “No. I don’t know what you mean!”

Fatima pulled up Salim’s dress with a sudden abrupt gesture to reveal her own knickers and stockings. “Don’t be so hasty! You can enjoy Robert as well!” A hand ran up the top of Salim’s thigh and caressed her groin around the knickers.

Salim hesitated. Fatima had after all enjoyed making love to him. And she had felt rather left out of the proceedings. Perhaps in the company of the two women she loved, the only two lovers she had ever had, she could lose her virginity with regards to heterosexual love. It was, after all, a critical part of her that even into her thirties she had not yet expressed. She looked at Robert who was spread naked across the bed, his erect penis grasped by Amna’s dark hand. She thought back to the only part of him that had at all interested her in the lovemaking, and that only because of where it was penetrated. She mused on the length of engorged flesh, with its purple end and its hairy base. She could never have that enter inside her!

Salim shook her head shyly, kissed Fatima tenderly on the lips and continued on her way to the living room to read a book or watch television. There were some experiences in life, she decided, which were really not worth experiencing. Ever.

Fatima’s efforts in promoting Amna’s career pursued every possible avenue. She agreed to meet Isabel, who, on the appointed day, was sat in her office in the television station’s main building. She was skimming through the pages of the professional sex media magazine she received free each week, contemplating the advertisements from the countless agencies who offered their sex starlets for the services of film, video, television or interactive software. Some of the advertisements were particularly lurid, but she had learnt to mistrust these when she was recruiting. The sexual adventurousness of the starlets was not really an indication of the quality of their performance, except in particular fringe aspects of the industry. She always professed a professional and competent approach to recruitment. She eased her large breasts down as she raised her wrist to glance at her watch. She was expecting to see Fatima and her candidate, Amna, in a few moments for an audition for a television series that Isabel was producing concerning Asian sexual practices. It was tentatively called Brown Cunts and Slit Eyes, but was likely to be modified to just Brown Cunts and Slits in deference to the all too vocal sensitivity of the Asian minority.

Fatima and Amna were dressed quite appropriately for their rôles when they arrived. Fatima wore a green business suit with a very short skirt that very nearly revealed the suspenders of her black silk stockings. Amna was totally naked except for a pair of stilettos on which she tottered in obvious unease and a heavy pasting of make-up. Isabel sat back in her chair and nodded approvingly as Amna twirled round on her heels revealing all she had to offer.

The breasts were good, Isabel decided. There were never too many girls in the industry willing to enhance their appearance for the tit market. A good pair of breasts were always a good sales point, as she had found out herself in her days as a sex actress, and did wonders for a girl’s career. True, Amna hadn’t committed herself to the same extent as Isabel had when she’d surrendered herself to scalpel and silicone, but she really had no need to, seeing as her native assets as an Asian were relatively distinctive in themselves. Her lips were good as well. They made her look perpetually sexy, if a bit sullen. But then sullenness always attracted that proportion of the target audience who didn’t like the idea of the girls enjoying their lovemaking too much.

“The buttocks and thighs have been enhanced too!” Remarked Fatima with pride, patting Amna on the bottom. “And she takes frequent exercise to keep her waist trim!”

“What about the crotch?” Wondered Isabel. “Is she normally so hairless?”

“Not at all. Without depilatory creams and daily attention, she’d be so hairy you wouldn’t believe! Amna’s naturally hirsute to a prejudicial degree.”

“Is that so? Some of the audience like that.”

“I’ve done my research, Isabel sweetest,” said Fatima daring a little more familiarity than she might normally do with a potential customer. “Hairiness is a turn off for the younger end of the market. Most successful teen stars keep their crotch at worst trim and spare.”

Isabel nodded. That was certainly true. A lot of the potential target preferred the illusion that the girls were several years younger than they actually were, even when they were pretty young to start off with.

“Well, she’s certainly good to look at,” Isabel announced. “But what’s she like when it comes to action?”

“Have you watched the videos I sent you?”

“The videos? Well, I had a brief look. I wasn’t too sure, to be honest. She’s not a natural, is she? It doesn’t come from the heart. Or do you think otherwise?”

A flash of concern passed over Fatima’s face, as if the issue which most worried her had been raised. She smiled broadly, however. “Amna’s a young girl. She’s growing in confidence and ability all the time. She has plenty of expert tuition from myself and true professionals. She’s able to convince even the most sceptical that she’s having a good time when ...”

“You don’t mind, - do you? - if I put your claim to the test. Appearance is very important. I’d say it was the most important feature of a good sex actress. But she has to perform as well. I’ve persuaded one of my male sex actors to give her a trial. Is it alright if I ask him in?”

Fatima had expected this. Much of her work and preparation over the last few weeks had been for this very moment. She knew that once a sex actress is accepted then the odd, or even frequent, lapse in performance is tolerated if her charisma as a star or a looker compensated for it. She had spent a lot of time persuading Amna to relax and to overcompensate for her genuine lack of interest in heterosexual love. Fatima nodded. “I’m sure Amna’s up to the task!” She announced, squeezing her shoulder with a comforting hand.

Isabel nodded. “I’m sure she is.” She picked up her phone and spoke to her secretary: “Ask Boris to come in.”

Boris was a tall, quite athletic man whose long hair was tied into a ponytail and had several tattoos on his arms and torso. He pushed a confident hand through his hair, letting his earrings dangle in the slight breeze caused by this action. On Isabel’s nodding, he removed his clothes to reveal a limp penis and a trim figure.

Isabel leaned forward over her desks, her hands cupped underneath the overhang of her enormous breasts. “Amna. If you could please join Boris on the couch over there in the corner and we’ll assess your performance. Don’t be too worried. I don’t expect you to be at your best during an interview: I know only too well the effect nerves can have. Just go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

Fatima knew that passion and love were what Amna associated with making love to a man. To a certain extent it was almost better for her to view the exercise of fucking as a job rather than a pleasure. She watched with pride as Amna went through the motions that she had painstakingly practised for so many weeks. First the fellatio and hand work: building up a firm and stiff foundation for later intercourse. She watched with relief as Boris’s penis gradually swelled to its full nine or ten inches in length. It was soon full, firm and ready for action. Amna expectantly looked up to Fatima for advice at that point, and Fatima scratched her ear absently as they’d prearranged as a signal to say that she’d judged Boris to be prepared to penetrate.

It was at that stage that Amna positioned herself on top of Boris, his face behind her, allowing herself to be fucked again and again while facing Isabel and putting on the various repertoire of expressions that she and Fatima had practised for so long. Isabel was not so easily deceived. She had worked too many years in the industry for that: both as an actress and as a director. Now, as a producer, she could see that most, if not all, of Amna’s apparent sexual satisfaction was feigned. There was really no flush of pleasure on the girl’s face and the only sweat generated was from exertion rather than ecstasy. But Isabel also knew that what mattered was not how the physical act felt to the actress but how it was viewed through the eyes of a television viewer who only saw those edited highlights that were deemed good enough for the screen.

Boris appeared to be taken in by Amna’s performance, producing as much, if not more, seminal fluid as he normally did on the screen, which Amna allowed to spread over her trim waist and into her mouth. Isabel nodded her head as Amna wiped away the traces of sperm from around her mouth and nose.

“Well, Fatima, I think your little friend can consider herself employed,” she announced with a broad grin, picking up a pen and the contract she’d had pre-printed in anticipation of the success of the audition.

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