My Life as a Video Pornographer Ch. 04

"You can put your bike in back if you want." He walked out and opened the side gate leading me to the backyard. "And you look pretty hot."

I leaned the bike against the house and looked up at him, the double meaning not lost on me. I smiled taking off my backpack.

"Come on in and cool off a little. I'll make us a drink. Do you like tequila?"

The only time I'd had a tequila was with my girlfriends a few months before. It tasted nasty, but I remember it made them do all sorts of foolish things. The memory of them playing some game and stripping off their clothes came rushing back. I was here. I was fucked, or about to be, one way or the other. Might as well give the tequila another try. "Ummm, do you have something with it, like O.J.?"

"Good idea. I'll make Sunrises."

I watched him walk through the sliding glass doors into the living, his tight buns barely visible through the fabric. He smelled good -- like soap and aftershave. I shivered a little, but not because it was cold.

When I walked into the darkened house, I almost ran into him; apparently his bar was in a cart near the door. Before I could apologize, he turned and held me by the waist, looking me straight in the eyes. I was caught in his stare, his eyes a bluish gray, clear and bright. Unconsciously, I set the backpack down on the floor, expecting to put a little distance between us. Before I could do or say anything, he moved his hands up my sides, pulling the t-shirt with it.

"Noooo," I whimpered softly, not really meaning it, but not ready for it so soon. "You're not wasting any time..." I tried the bravado approach but couldn't pull it off.

He didn't say a thing, just staring at my face, locking my eyes with his. He had the shirt above my breasts, the air raising my nipples. Without stopping, he kept pulling it up, lifting my arms above my head. His mesmerizing look was interrupted by the fabric over my face and I closed my eyes as the neckline pulled up over my chin and across my cheeks and forehead.

"You'll be much cooler this way, don't you think?" He pulled it up and off my wrists and tossed it onto a chair.

I could hear myself saying no over and over again under my breath, but I wasn't stopping him. I looked off to the side, seeing the reflection of that woman in the sliding glass doors, her breasts and flat belly exposed. The white shorts looked almost out of place, ruining the portrait. His fingers traced a path down my upraised arms, tickling me a little on their way through the stubble of my underarm, his thumbs barely grazing my nipples raising goosebumps on my breasts. He had suggested I cool off in the house, but it wasn't any cooler inside than out. The only improvement of taking my shirt off was the faint breeze against my skin as he moved.

I looked down again at his sweatpants and saw the faint outline of his cock beginning to press against the grey cotton. I licked my lips.

He turned back to the cart, filling two glasses with ice and alcohol. It looked pretty stiff. Like he was going to be in a minute, I figured, smiling again. I pulled my arms down around my breasts, as much from shyness as for protection. Why I was feeling shy after everything we'd done the week before still mystifies me today, but it felt better somehow not being so exposed. Without my shirt, the sweat under my arms felt sticky and uncomfortable.

I followed him into the kitchen, trying to figure out how to regain a little control.

"There's a doobie on the table -- light it up." He opened the fridge, taking out the orange juice and a bottle of pinkish-purple liquid.

I sat down and lit the joint, trying not to think too hard about what was coming next. Being half-naked with him, doing just normal things like lighting a joint or making a drink was re-starting the arousal I'd been fanning all day. My thighs were slippery when I put my legs together, cool when I opened them. I wasn't sure which was more uncomfortable.

He set my drink in front of me: a beautiful concoction of orange merging to purple at the bottom of the glass.

"Tequila Sunrise -- one of my favorite drinks." He sat down across from me, taking the joint and making no pretense about staring at my breasts. "Nice," he said sucking in the smoke.

I blushed, hiding my face behind the glass. The taste was exactly what I needed: cool, sweet and wet. I couldn't taste the tequila hardly at all, for which I was thankful...at first, and then I thought about it again. I put the glass down.

"So," he started, his voice pinched from holding in the smoke. "What do you want to know?" He passed the joint.

I stalled, inhaling. He hadn't even raised the issue of what I was willing to pay for the information. I hadn't told him yet I was a virgin. He may still have been thinking I was holding out because I didn't want to come off too easy. Either way, it was assumed I was putting out tonight. I couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to take his cock into me, covering the shiver with a deep intake of smoke. I dropped my hand to the table and stared at the ember glowing, the smoke winding its way out of the joint. I didn't want to be completely unconscious my first time, but I was of that age where I couldn't pass up a free drink and a toke.

"Hold on, let me get my stuff." I got up, the movement of air against my skin a welcome relief and retrieved the backpack, rummaging through it for the notebook and pen.

"Maybe we should start at the beginning, yeah?" He passed the joint and I took another hit. The high was just starting to creep around my outer brain. I could feel my blood pulsing, the sunrise cooling my throat and stomach.

"Okay, yeah. What does that mean?" I giggled a little, opening the notebook and writing the date and the 'title' at the top of the page: How to be a pornographer. I made a mental note to never let this notebook out of my sight when it wasn't locked up.

"So let's start with some assumptions:

"Assumption 1: You have a model. We'll talk about how to get models later, but for now, let's assume you've got someone who will pose or act in your film, yeah?

"Assumption 2: You have some equipment. (By the way, you don't have to worry about your equipment, it's fucking fantastic)"

I blushed and took a gulp from the drink. It was almost half gone and I hadn't been here more than 10 minutes. A little alarm bell went off.

"Equipment is important -- super important, but only because it matters what kind of film you want to make. And what kind of film you want to make depends a lot on what kind of market you're going to get into. Is this making sense?"

I was writing it all down and of course it made sense. It occurred to me Tim wasn't as smart as I had thought. I stopped him. "I want to make movies that will make the most money."

His laugh exploded out of him, little drops of sunrise misting across the table. "That's the idea! That's it exactly!"

The smoke was definitely hitting me. I put down the roach and sat back, wiping the droplets from my face and feeling the sweat. I wanted nothing more than to strip all of my clothes off and make him hard, the thought ramming through my reptile brain like a freight train in the desert. I hadn't gotten high since the last time we'd been together; it felt like moments ago, not as if an entire week had passed. I saw myself standing up, removing my shorts, watching his cock poke up against his sweatpants. I licked my lips, the combination of salt, orange juice and sweet purple stuff bringing me back to the present.

"So?" I barely held on to the original train of thought. "Which movies make the most money?"

He reached his hands across the table to take mine. His fingers stroked my palms lightly, increasing my need to see his hard-on.

"That all depends, Julie. That all depends. The real money-makers are the heavy stuff -- bondage, discipline, sado-masochism. But to do that stuff right takes a lot of equipment and a particular sort of model. They're around, but they know their worth and they charge plenty."

I screwed up my face -- it wasn't what I wanted to do...at least, it wasn't what I thought I wanted to do. I thought for a moment about whether I was willing to go down that path.

"...for a particular 'niche' market if you will."

"What? Sorry, I missed that last part."

"Amateur teens. It seems to be a real money-maker for a targeted group -- mostly older men and a few younger lesbians. It's the cheapest -- people just send their shit in and you don't have to pay 'em. But the return is equally low. The amateur stuff is usually the loss-leader to get the paying members in."

I needed to feel him. It was an animal need far stronger than my need to understand the next five years of my life. I put down the pen and looked up at him, my eyes fixing his. Taking my fingers I slowly ran them up my ribs, watching as his eyes darted to my breasts and stayed there. I kept him focused, my fingers toying with my nipples. He smiled, his eyes quickly looking up and back again, my nipples too much of an attraction to let him look away.

"I enjoyed watching you masturbate last night." I teased him. Pushing my chair back, keeping my fingers on my nipples. "Tell me what you thought about this week when you jacked-off."

His smile grew and he leaned forward, looking down at my shorts. I figured there was a stain there -- if not from my pussy, from the sweat, but he wouldn't know the difference. I opened my legs a little to give him a better view.

"All I could think about was seeing you pushed back on the counter, your cunt just open and waiting. You have the most beautiful pussy, Julie. It's amazing. You could make a lot of money with it. Serious."

He stood up and I knew I had started down the slippery slope I had tried to avoid 'til now. But there was no turning back -- there hadn't been, the minute I'd agreed to coming over. I knew that and knowing that only added to the wave of excitement growing deep inside me. His cock was tenting out the sweatpants for just a heartbeat, and then he was naked. He peeled the pants down, his cock springing up to look at me from across the table.

I inhaled a little, knowing it would be inside me, unconsciously closing my legs to protect myself.

"Amateur teen." He said, smiling at me. "You could get a little seed money for your project right now."

Tim always seemed to talk in code, or I was too stoned to get it right away, but the way he said it I knew he meant something I wasn't getting...and then it struck me and I shook my head no, even as he approached me, his cock barely moving it was so hard, his balls tight up against the bottom of the shaft.

He reached down and helped me stand up, my eyes on his cock, my thoughts on his cock. He moved his hands to my waist, his intentions clear. I just stared at his hard on, shivering from the thought he would be taking me soon, shivering from the body rush from the pot. It didn't matter I was sweating from the heat. My body shivered. He slowly peeled my shorts down my legs, pulling my panties with them, exposing my bush. His face passed by my wet lips as he knelt to remove my sandals and clothes from my feet. I could smell my arousal; I could only imagine what I smelled like to him.

I knew what was coming next. At least, I thought I knew what was coming next, but I never would have guessed if someone had stopped time and asked me.

Tim stood back up and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his hard cock against my bush. Where his skin touched mine I felt a warmth increasing to a slow burn, sweat building up between us. I looked into his eyes and leaned forward to press my lips against his. His tongue pushed into my mouth, his hands pushed against the back of my head and I could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his erection against my pubic bone. I clamped my pussy lips together involuntarily.

"Come on," he said softly, breaking the kiss. He let his hands drift down to my ass cheeks, stroking them softly. I couldn't break away from his look, his face filled with desire and...maybe it was my own fear, but a touch of menace.

The pot had hit me hard. I reached forward and grabbed the glass, downing whatever was left.

"Do you want more?" He kept his hand on my ass cheeks, softly caressing me, his penis brushing my thigh. The soft movement of air did nothing to cool me off.

I nodded, not really knowing if I did or not, but trying to buy some time. I wasn't ready for what I thought was coming. Part of me, a very small buried voice was arguing I should keep my wits about me, but mostly I knew it was too late -- it wouldn't matter if I was drunk, stoned, sober or sleeping -- he was going to shove his cock into me and apparently we were going to do it on camera.

I stood at the table and watched as he puttered around the kitchen making the concoction, his cock barely waving side to side it was so stiff. The feeling of exposure was intense with nothing to do except stand there. He wasn't even paying attention to me and for some reason that made it all the more difficult.

"Okay," he said, handing me the fresh drink, water already beading up on the glass. "What are we going to do next?"

I blinked at him confused. I shrugged, putting the glass against my cheek before taking a sip.

"Come on," he provoked, "what's next?" He was like a teacher, a little annoyed at a slow student, but still playful.

"I...I'm not sure?" I didn't want to tell him he was going to fuck me on camera, if he wasn't. I didn't want to give him the idea, even though I was pretty certain that was what he had meant by his last cryptic remark. The alcohol and pot weren't making anything clearer.

"We're going to make you a movie...to get you started." He lightly grabbed my elbow and steered me through the living room to a closed door next to the bathroom. "Welcome to my production studio," he said dramatically pushing the door open.

I don't know what I expected with that introduction, but the room was so dim I couldn't see anything except a room a little larger than his bedroom. He flipped the light switch and the differences became very obvious. It was decked out with all sorts of equipment: lights on racks on the ceiling caught my attention first for some reason, tripods with cameras, monitors, rolls of cloth on racks at the tops of the walls and a weird assortment of furniture. A couch against one wall, a dresser and side table and a double-bed.

He gently pushed me into the room, his hand on the small of my back, stroking my ass cheeks. The room was stuffy, the air still and even hotter than in the living room. I realized there was only one window, but it was shut tight, covered with a black-out shade. I could feel sweat coming off my skin, like I was in a Swedish sauna. I was so high I couldn't make sense of what was happening, my pussy making soft squishy sounds every time I walked, my nipples aching to be touched. I reached down searching for his cock with my fingers and found it, wrapping my hand around it, giving it a squeeze as if that would help ground me.

"Hmmm...that's nice, Julie. But hold off a minute. Come over here and tell me what you think of this idea." He shut the door, moved to the opposite corner of the room and faced the bed. From this angle it looked a little larger for some reason. "I see you, on your hands and knees, your pussy facing toward that direction," he pointed slightly off to the left. "Does that seem about right?"

I wasn't sure I was hearing him correctly. The idea of shooting my own deflowering, of discussing it with him was so bizarre and so arousing I could feel my moisture beginning to mix with the sweat beading up inside my thighs. He had said it last week, and he had intimated it just a few minutes ago, but I was still fighting the idea. He still didn't know videoing us doing it for the first time was videoing me doing it for the first time.

"You...you want to tape fucking me..." I let it fall out of my mouth -- a half question/statement.

He didn't answer me directly, but simply took my hands and led me to the bed. I didn't stop him, the thought of capturing my virginity being taken on tape was putting me over the edge. Just as it had happened last week, when he put me in front of a camera, I let myself go with it, the intensity of being captured, of showing myself off to an infinity of boys jacking off sent fireworks up my spine.

He positioned me on my hands and knees, my legs spread a little wider than my hips. "This is going to be a little tricky, Julie. We only have one shot at this, truthfully. Right?" He was kneeling near my face, his cock twitching in front of my face. I looked up at him, my head swirling with THC and alcohol and arousal. I knew my pussy must be glistening. Did he know? I couldn't tell by the way he said it. "Hold it right there for a moment, I want to get everything set up."

He jumped off the bed and flicked on several lights, positioning umbrellas in front of a couple, checking the viewfinder of a large video camera, adjusting the angles of other lights, turning some on, others off. It probably didn't take more than a couple of minutes, but it seemed like an eternity: as if I was on stage for some ancient ritual, my pussy exposed to the room, my face looking into the corner of the bed. I could smell my arousal, the air was thick with it; each time he passed by me I could smell his too -- a musky sweat I inhaled deeply, arousing me even more.

"Okay, we're almost there," he said encouragingly. "I need a sound check. What do you want?"

"What?"

"Tell me what you want."

"I..." I wasn't sure what to say. "I want you to fuck me?"

"Say it."

"Fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

"Say it like you mean it. How do you want me to fuck you?"

"I want you to fuck me with your hard cock, Tim! I want you to fuck me hard and make me cum. Make me scream from your hard cock shoving into my virgin pussy!" I could hardly keep from laughing, but it felt liberating to just say the most outrageous things I could think of.

He hesitated for a moment and I realized what I had said. I looked over at him in alarm and desire. "I knew it." He smiled. "Shit. This changes everything. Oh shit, this is fucking fantastic." He was grinning ear to ear...I guess he hadn't known, or really hadn't believed what he suspected. He walked over to the bed and knelt again in front of me, his cock hard, pointing to my mouth. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, Tim. I want you to fuck me." I looked at his cock, reaching forward with my lips to kiss it. I was lost in a fog, not knowing if the camera was rolling but imagining how it would be when he shoved his hard-on into me. "I'm ready, Tim. I'm so wet. I so want to feel your hot cock shoving into me, breaking me open. Please fuck me, Tim." I wasn't calm about it but I wasn't shouting either.

I've looked back at that tape dozens of times since then and every time I get wet: a young woman, completely exposed, shining with sweat, practically praying to a cock in front of her lips. I had no idea what was about to happen to me.

"Hmmm. I suppose you think you are," he said a little dismissively. "But I think you need a little more...incentive. I don't think you're as ready as you say you are."

He grabbed my hair, firmly and pulled my head up and back, my throat open. I cried out in surprise more than pain. "Keep your cunt open, slut. Keep it open for the camera. You're an exhibitionist, remember? Say it."

I gulped in air, the shock of being pulled up still confusing me. "I...don't! Don't Tim. Please! Stop! It hurts!" But it didn't really hurt, it was just confusing and disorienting. "Yes! Okay! I'm an exhibitionist! I am! I want you to tape me being fucked! Please! Pop my cherry on camera!"