Movie Money

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shaunreagh
shaunreagh
1,248 Followers

Buck, with reluctance, took his eye from the camera eyepiece, though kept the film running. "What?" he shouted back.

"Can you tell that man to leave my girl-friend alone!" shouted Timmy, hands now clenched as fists.

"Timmy, Timmy, Timmy," said Buck, concerned that his filming might be spoiled, turning on his reasonable voice, giving the student what he hoped was his most friendly smile. "You're over-reacting."

"I'm not over-reacting," hissed Timmy, filled with intensity, pointing towards the groaning pair, in case Buck had missed it. Amy was all over Wally; her arms wrapped tight around him, a leg now curled round his hips; their mouths were locked like limpets, both tongues hard at work; their chests and torsos and hips and thighs were hungrily grinding against each other -- as if Wally couldn't get enough of the girl's smooth softness and flesh, and the girl needed more of his coarse manly hardness, and hair. Control was heading South!

"Make them stop it!" Timmy shouted. Adding, pleadingly, "Please make them stop." A tear appeared on his cheek, and then another. Both ran down his cheek to his chin.

"Okay, okay, okay," said Buck, placatingly. Then louder, he shouted out, "Wally, leave the girl!" He turned to the boy and started to explain, as if he wanted the kid to understand that none of this was real. It was film. It was acting. That's all. Nothing more!

Timmy was doing his best to pay attention to Buck, but although Wally had let Amy be, it seemed to be 'leaving her' in a very low-keyed sort of way. Granted, the kissing had stopped. Granted, Amy had taken her leg from round his hip. Granted their heads had turned and both were looking their way. But she continued to be in the older man's embrace. And his hands continued to be on her body.

"Leave her, Leave her be," said Buck, shaking his head and a hand at the end of an outstretched arm, as if this was all very tiresome, and a nuisance, and annoying, but had to be worked out. Wally disengaged from the girl. He turned her around so that she faced the camera. He put his arms around her and drew her close, her back against his front. They both looked at the camera -- a camera that hadn't stopped running, Timmy noted. It was as if the light man did not want the contact between him and Timmy's girl friend to break, so while his boss and her boy friend were working this whole thing out, he would just keep this warm, responsive little body close to him ... if that was all right. Timmy shook his head. This was nuts!

"Okay, Timmy. You're the director. What would you do?" asked Buck Farmer, suddenly all reason.

"Okay," said Timmy, this was better. "What I'd do ..."

What would I do?

"Let me explain something to you," said Buck, and started to. But Timmy couldn't drag his eyes from Amy, nor make his mind pay attention to Mr Farmer. Wally's hands had started stroking her and in response her hands had reached behind her for his head. Timmy watched as her fingers stole into his curly red hair. Stretching up with her arms like that also stretched her body. It made her stomach long and flat. It stretched the skin over the start of her rib cage. It accentuated the thrust of her breasts. Her naked breasts, stretched full and proud with a soft sheen of sweat glistening on their surface. Timmy watched Wally's hands move over her as if he was mesmerised ... over her stomach, up to her ribs, almost carelessly on to take possession of her breasts. Then his lips dropped down to her neck, and as they did she angled her head to one side to give him better access to the bit of her he wanted.

"Yak yak yak..." continued Buck, but Timmy couldn't focus on his words.

"I can do it myself," whispered Timmy, to Buck, interrupting his flow, wanting to object that Wally was continuing to play with his girl. One of his hands had dropped to her thighs and was caressing her pubis through the pleats of her bright red skirt; next they were searching the waistband of the skirt, looking for the catch.

"Can't you tell him to stop that," objected Timmy, as the light-man's fingers found and deftly opened the catch of Amy's skirt. His lips closed around her ear. Her eyes flickered closed. Timmy heard the sound of a zip being lowered as the light-man ran it down. Next he knew the skirt had fallen from her hips, slipped down to her thighs.

"He's not letting her be. He's not leaving her alone," objected Timmy, pointing to the skirt, now slipping sluggishly down her legs -- dislodged in small jerks as she reacted to the fingers now back on her pubis. Soon the fingers slithered lower and curled between her legs, causing her pelvis to kick forward, suddenly, and the skirt to drop from her knees to round her shoes.

"Okay, Wally, leave the kid," said Buck half-heartedly, flicking the light-man a glance, keeping the camera running, then going on with his explanation to the kid, "Yak yak yak ..."

If Wally did anything at all in line with the instruction to leave the girl alone, it was to take his mouth briefly from her ear, but little else. His fingers between Amy's legs continued to strum -- over the material of her panties -- as if she were a banjo he was playing. His hand around her breast continued to fondle the sensitive parts in a manner devised to arouse. While Amy herself, as recipient, judging by the sounds she was making and the manner of her squirming in his arms, was far from averse to the treatment.

"It's acting, Timmy, acting," Buck repeated for a third or fourth time, his arm now around Timmy's shoulders, as his girlfriend stepped out of the circle of her skirt on the wood planked floor. As she moved to kick it away Timmy noted (with relief) that the hand between her legs, had moved. It was now on her tummy, a tip of a finger exploring the shallow recess of her button.

Better there than where it had been, Timmy reckoned.

But his relief was short lived.

"It doesn't mean anything to Wally or Amy. They're acting that's all," said Buck, at the exact moment that Wally's fingers disappeared into the waistband of Amy's pants. Timmy couldn't believe she didn't object. Couldn't believe she didn't reach for the hand and wrench it out. Cry out, perhaps. Yell, or scream. Something. But she didn't. She didn't do anything. Other than flare her thighs and seem to ease her pelvis out, and up, as if in welcome. The mound within her pants slithered south. Once between her legs it started squirming, like a small furry animal starting to feast. Her pelvis began to react as if she too were feeding, on the rodent, on the large male rat of fingers that was there, toying with her, fondling her, strumming, arousing, bringing to life the wild animal that Timmy knew to live inside her -- inviting it out to play.

"This isn't fair," he whispered to himself, as Amy arched her back, stretched her legs, thrust her groin into the bulge in her panties, and angled her face, almost hungrily, back at the man who held her. "Make them stop it," pleaded Timmy, as his girlfriend turned herself round in the light-man's embrace so she might kiss him more deeply. He watched their mouths clamp wetly and noisily together. The slurping and sucking was audible from here. "This is disgusting," he said, though no-one seemed to hear. No one was listening to what he was saying.

Buck's eyes were back at the camera. "Acting," was all he said as the light-man's arm, held straight and between them, hand buried deep in her panties, made Amy's pelvis dance. She groaned and gasped and swayed her cute butt, as the hand in her panties made her lunge and jerk and thrust and weave.

"Ngaar," she cried out as her pelvis kicked left and the hand in her pants seemed to lift into her. "Aaaaow," she groaned as her buttocks subsided and seemed to melt into the hand.

"Help them," said Buck, to Timmy.

But Timmy had no idea how. Matters had gone too far for that.

He moved into shot nonetheless. Approaching his girlfriend from behind. Amy, the famous Amy, now with her panties low on her butt. That killer butt his year at college worshipped, drooled over -- whacked over too!

"Help them get-it-on, this is fucking great," squealed Buck.

Amy's cries now had a ring of urgent desperation about them. The cheetah that lived inside her was out and wanting to play. Her sharp little cries were like a balloon being squeezed, "Ooo! Ooo! Ooo!" Timmy reached around his girl-friend, found the thick straight arm from the light-man that disappeared into the front of her panties. On the forearm he could feel the straining sinews and muscle as the fingers lower down drove his girl-friend quietly wild. His hands moved on. They found a way around the forearm's busy form. His girlfriend's cute behind bucked and kicked his groin -- though not from his caress!

The zip of the light-man's shorts was heavy duty, and came down with a sound like a train drawing out of a station -- the catch of his tent-sized shorts was like the coupling of a tender to a train. Then they were down around his ankles, being kicked away with a heavy work boot. The light-man wore nothing else, other than the biggest erection Timmy had ever seen. It snapped to attention, slapping Amy's stomach like a gun-shot. And before Timmy had worked out whether or not it came next, he was pulling Amy's panties down her legs.

Then his work was done.

"Great, Timmy. Great. Now get the fuck out of shot," came the director's instructions. Timmy backed away. Once he was sure he was far enough, he turned and walked back to the cameras. A long groan came from Amy, as if something surprising had just happened to her. Timmy blanked it from his mind. He knew what had just happened. The light-man's prick was huge. It was twice Timmy's size!

Timmy turned when he was back behind the camera, and Buck. Amy was up off the floor. Her knees drawn up, one clamped either side of his chest, calves around him, ankles locked over his buttocks. The fat shaft of his penis disappeared into her, just below the mounds of her stretched buttocks. She appeared to be easing herself down on it, her face a mask of concentration. Timmy watched, fascinated despite himself, as the fat shaft eased gradually deeper, then drew out a little way, slick and glistening with her juices, then back in. She seemed to curl her pelvis towards the guy as her buttocks clenched, then rolled -- as if she was curling her innards around what was already inside her -- then it came out a little way, then back -- a little more this time.

Timmy turned away. He couldn't watch it any more. But try as he might, he couldn't shut out the sounds. The deep-throated groan she made as he eased inside her more. The gasp she made as it ground in deep. The moan that came from her throat as it slowly eased out. The yelp she let out as he drove it back in. The shuddering grunt as he thrust it again.

After some time -- time that Timmy wanted to end, but had no way of hurrying, (other than leaving her here, with them, but that didn't seem very bright; not with Amy in the state that she was) -- the tempo of sounds began to change. There were less gasps of amazement and surprise. It became a more slowly-driven tempo of arousal. The yearning, seeming agony, of Amy, of earlier, subtly started to change into what started to sound like a rhythm of pain. A punch entered into the beat. Her yelps moulded into a rhythm. Her gasps adopted a solid desperation of their own. He had never heard her so aroused. She never lost it like this with him.

He turned and walked towards the elevator cage hoping the sounds would be less intense from here. But they weren't. When he turned back and looked at the coiling couple, bathed in the small yellow cloud of light in the cavernous dim interior of the empty warehouse space, the distance seemed to accentuate the hopeless abandon with which his lovely Amy was crushing itself against the larger older man. How effortlessly he held her off the floor. How easily he made her buck and groan and jerk and gasp and cry out with her head thrown back as he thrust his broad hips up hard between hers, forcing himself deeper and deeper inside her moist warmth. How carelessly he made her cry out with what he had between his legs ... pistonning powerfully in between hers.

Timmy knew when she came: a series of yelps, harder and faster as she climbed, then WHAM! She froze. Every muscle in her body tensed hard. Then she'd jerk and yelp again, maybe once, sometimes twice -- with this guy more, maybe five, even six -- then she'd groan, soft and long, and relax, and groan again. For a full minute after that she wouldn't move. Timmy would let her be, and go to the john. But this guy wasn't doing that. He was giving her half a minute, tops, then starting again. This was the third time she'd climaxed.

Timmy was leaning on the cage, wondering how long it would go on. The guy appeared to be allowing her to steady herself, catch her breath. Her head was above his, her chin on the top of his head, her legs still locked around him, his hand on each of her buttocks, supporting her. When he allowed her to calm, he handled her as if she were a priceless doll, at other times, when he pumped her hard, it was he she were indestructible.

He was starting the build-up again. Winding her up for a fourth hot run. Timmy watched -- though hated to -- as she adjusted her legs, and arms, and thighs, and hips, to give the light man room. To give him space to manoeuvre yet again. To take her to 'the clouds', as Amy termed her climax. He watched, transfixed, as they began a long, slow, partnered, movement ... the light man's shaft, glistening now its easy entry into her ... her ready welcome, face a map of pain and want ... then lips and open mouths conjoined ...

Timmy was astonished she could go on for so long. And become so involved. Hungrily -- enthusiastically involved, he had to concede -- for it had become apparent as soon as intercourse was joined that to physically force them apart would have pissed off Amy most of the three! She was into it thoroughly, so he'd moved away. Kept out of it. Once Amy's panther was out and at play you didn't mess with it. And that it was out at all, he'd reminded himself, was all his fault. He turned away again. He studied the construction of the cage, and how it was made, and put together, and how it worked.

The series of yelps had started to climb; the sounds of heaving bodies, sweat and skin and grunts for breath; the slurps of lips and mouths and the sound that a well primed penis pumping in and out of a well lubricated vagina make, came together with two growls -- or groans or screams or yells or yelps or gasps or wringing of innards -- as she reached her fourth climax of the long afternoon, and the light man sang his happy way to his first.

"I think that's enough," said Tim, turning from the cage, making his way back to the director ... to discover that he was no longer there by the camera. He had joined the two by the bed. They were laying Amy out on her back, parting her legs, and Buck, the director, had his penis out, and before Timmy could do anything to stop it, Buck was inside his girl, and fucking her hard.

It was Amy's groans and yelps and moans that hurt Timmy most. They were the exact same sounds she made when he was fucking her, only much louder and made with more feeling with them -- in here with these older men, having their way with his girl. It didn't seem fair.

But Mr Farmer paid in full. Even though Timmy had not played a part.

Which was as well -- Timmy needed the money.

shaunreagh
shaunreagh
1,248 Followers
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11 Comments
BrofinleBrofinlealmost 7 years ago
Enjoyed it

Felt like it ended abruptly.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 9 years ago
Jorg

your stories seem to have rushed endings.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago

This should absolutely be made into a Qatsu brief

ErotonautErotonautover 13 years ago
Kid should really have read the small print

Sounds like he didn't know his girl as well as he thought.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 14 years ago
Interesting....

I was pretty hot but what I really loved was how the "non consent" part of the story was actually Timmy's involvment, or, well, lack there of! I must saw tha I feel bad for Timm though and that I agree with some of the other comments. If that was my girlfriend, I would have asked her to stop or flat out pulled her away. I personally find it strange that he didn't try to do just that or even try to yank off the "light-guy" and prove that he really COULD do it himself. Either way, though, this was really good.

Well, peace out and I rate it a 4-5 star job.

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