Shannon and Evan

Note to the reader: This series will build slowly. Literotica warns writers that "Readers of erotica are generally very specific in their tastes and can react strongly to "surprise" content." I am more concerned about the opposite problem: disappointment of readers who invest time and find out that the story doesn't go far enough for them (for those for whom it goes too far, you should have looked at the tags). There will be SPH, but there will not be degradation or forced-bi or anything like that. There will be MMMF but the F will not be treated like trash. There will be interracial but not "raceplay". Despite the many sexual areas that will be covered, this will be too tame for many fetishists.

CHAPTER 1

As Shannon drove her Kia SUV up the curves of the hills above Sherman Oaks she played her favorite mental game, called "When Can I Have A Baby?" Really, things were going quite well, and most times she played the game she was either able to confirm being on track or even able to push up the magical date. Originally the plan was Baby Number One by thirty, but Shannon, now twenty-seven, could see a possibility of getting pregnant at twenty-eight, or twenty-nine at the latest.

Two years into marriage both she and Evan were making more money than they had expected to, which is what gave her the idea that she could stay home with kids, and that was what put all that extra money back into the barely-enough-so-plan-carefully box. Evan had been a contractor when they married and now owned a third of the company. Shannon had been a real estate agent, and still was, but a little over a year back she started a business staging homes for other agents. That business was booming and the Key to the Plan was getting it to the point where she could promote her assistant and run the business 80% from home.

A few minutes away from the hilltop mansion that was her destination Shannon checked her makeup and hair in the visor mirror, maybe for a second too long given the tight switchbacks but she was always a careful driver, always early for appointments, never a speeding ticket. She was wearing less makeup than the real-estate go-getter days but her looks still mattered. If she were a model the extra weight would be a deal-breaker, or maybe not these days - she could be on the light end of "plus size". Shannon was passionate about marketing psychology and she knew that the extra weight, with her since the summer of 8th grade, actually worked for her professionally. Looks were important for real estate, but you didn't want to over-do it or you had jealous wives, and men who filled up your schedule for showings they couldn't care less about. Being just a bit chubby made her "homey", which was great for selling homes. With her wavy red Irish hair and green eyes, lightly freckled face and full lips, Shannon could pick up a rolling pin and look like a full-figured 1940s pin-up caricature of a house-wife, which was actually more of her target goal than running a business.

Shannon parked on the cul-de-sac (she never used a client's driveway even if she knew the house was empty) and stepped out and adjusted her dress. Wearing dresses for work was part of her quirky marketing image. She had about 15 dresses she really liked, but when not expecting to see a client or potential client she favored sweat-pants. Evan told her last month that he preferred her sweat pants because he had trouble keeping his hands off of her big round ass and it was usually easier to go down through an elastic waistband than up under a knee-length skirt. After 2 years of marriage the I-love-yous weren't slowing down and the sexual comments, which she loved, were increasing. She and Evan both came from church-going families; having sex was comfortable and had been since before their marriage, but talking about sex wasn't as comfortable.

The long driveway followed a ridge with a great view of the Valley. Along the driveway Shannon walked past several cars and a couple vans. She was meeting a director about supplying furniture for film shoots but she didn't expect they would be filming already given that the mansion was empty. Originally she was supposed to stage all 8300 square feet but the owner called her last week and told her he was temporarily suspending the listing and he'd signed a contract to have the house used for filming for the next couple months. Then the director for the film called her and explained that it wouldn't be necessary to furnish the whole house but that they wanted different looks for certain areas. This was her first meeting with the director after that one phone call and she still hadn't decided how much extra money to ask for, given that she normally didn't have to follow anyone's decorating ideas and high-end staged furniture didn't normally get "used". A less expensive staged home might get a lot of wear and tear with hundreds of looky-loos, but once you got into the 5 million-plus appointment-to-see zone the upholstery usually came back as clean as it started. Shannon only wished she was the selling agent; the most expensive house she'd ever actually sold was two-point-two, but this staging business was exploding for her and she was at the top of the market.

A couple grubby-looking men were unloading some bulky lighting rigs from the back of a van and as Shannon slipped past she wondered if she shouldn't just ask for a ridiculously high fee and see what happened. For all she knew this was a martial arts movie and they'd be chopping her wingback chairs with katanas.

The big glass front door of the house was propped open with a paver brick and Shannon walked through to the incredible view she had first seen when she met the owner. The modern-style home had an open kitchen-dining-living area with 14 foot ceilings and 10-foot high glass stacking-slider doors that opened to a wide balcony over a ravine. At first Shannon didn't really register the people and scattered equipment around the unfurnished great room because she was staring at the naked people on the balcony.

Two photographers were shooting a tiny blonde and the two big black men on either side of her, the trio posing against the railing. Shannon didn't really notice the photographers though, or the woman and man with the LED-array lights, or the make-up station that was set up in the kitchen. Shannon was frozen, staring open-mouthed at the two naked men. Both of them had enormous penises, hanging down around the face of the little blonde who was on her knees between them, smiling for the camera. The longer of the two black penises was draped over her shoulder, with the muscled penis-owner folding his arms and grinning. The other man was holding his darker, fatter penis in his hand and brushing her cheek with the huge, bulbous pink tip. The girl had one arm around the thigh of the man with the fatter penis, and her other arm down between her legs.

One of the two photographers was calling out directions. "Chase, angle the lights up from the floor to balance the sun. Kaley, you're doing great. Open your mouth. Remember that you can't believe how big these cocks are."

Shannon was jolted out of her frozen shock by the bizarre feeling that the photographer was reading her mind and telling everyone around what she was thinking. You can't believe how big these cocks are. Shannon spun around to run back out the front door, and immediately crashed into one of the men who was bringing in more lighting. He didn't drop anything and she just kind of bounced off of him, but he shouted "whoa!" like there was some kind of danger and everyone stopped to look. Shannon's face burned as she shouted "sorry! sorry!" without looking up. She staggered into the entryway. As she regained her balance and started to trot down the driveway she heard a man calling behind her: "Miss Lewis! Are you Miss Lewis?"

Business-Shannon took over brain command from Mortified-Shannon and she stopped running and turned around with a smile. "Yes, that's me! I forgot my notebook in my car."

The man approaching her on the driveway didn't look like what she would have expected a porn director to look like, if she had been expecting a porn director. He was wearing a tasteful gray suit with a blue tie, clean shaven and with his dark hair cut and styled like an ad exec from Mad Men. "I'm Graham. Also, I'm sorry. I guess Arthur didn't tell you what type of films we make."

Shannon realized she was holding her smile too long and tried to make her face normal. "It's OK. I was just surprised. Doesn't Arthur make documentaries?"

"He does. This isn't one of his productions. I should have made sure you knew, especially since we were doing photos today.               Can we still talk about the furniture?"

"Of course," Shannon said.

"How about over here?" Graham indicated a small patio off the driveway which had a cafe table and chairs.

"You were saying something about wanting a mix of different styles?" Shannon asked as they both took their seats.

"Yes, but not really a 'mix', as in an eclectic theme. I just want different sections of the house to look totally different, like different houses. The East and the South view already are so different, and there are so many different spaces and balconies. It would really be fine for me to shoot 30 scenes with different performers in the same room with the same decoration - everybody else does it. But I'm going for something more."

Shannon avoided his eyes by concentrating on her phone as she pulled up her floor-plan app. "Sure. I understand. Can you give me an example of what you'd want for a specific space? I've got all the rooms and dimensions, or we could go walk the house..." Shannon wondered what she would see if they went back in.

"Well, for the pool patio I'd like a Spanish look. Add some ironwork. A bar, and wood lounges."

"I can do all of that."

"And then you know the big room on the middle level with the curved wall at one end?"

"Yes, that's the theater." Shannon flipped to it on her phone.

"Can we have that in like a Louis Fourteen style? Fancy, big window treatments? Giant canopy bed with brocade? Like a French castle bedroom."

"Mr. Ashton - "

"Graham, please."

"Graham." Shannon put a little more point on the name than she intended. She was always nervous asking for money and her mental focus on the money was finally clearing her mind, partly, of the photography scene. "That's harder for me than you might think, although I can do it. Normally I stage a home to fit the home and to fit what's popular with buyers. I have modern and farmhouse rustic and some other variety in my little warehouse, and I can trade furniture with other stagers, but the kind of drama you are talking about is not really called for when you're trying to showcase a house."

"Oh, I understand. And I want you to understand my situation. My business doesn't use the big movie studio prop-houses. We don't do big-budget. There aren't 8 minutes of credits at the end of our films. I'm trying to do something more than usual though, because we've had success and we have a reputation for class..."

Shannon blinked a couple times picturing the huge black penises in that girl's face. Class.

"...but I don't want to go nuts," Graham continued. "I can afford to outspend my competition, and I want to outspend them, but I can't afford what you would think of as a real movie. How about this: I know what Arthur is paying you to stage the whole house, and you're still going to get that when I'm done. And I'll pay three times that for you to do whatever you can do to help me pretend I'm making a real movie. Deal?" He separated his hands in a gesture like he was releasing a dove.

"I just don't want you to be disappointed." Shannon pretended not to be thrilled with the money.

"I'm sure I'll appreciate your best. I'll give you half up-front, and you just tell me when I owe you the second half, and you just tell me after that when I'm getting close to wearing out the welcome on the second half."

"That works for me," Shannon said, looking up from the phone. "So. French castle bedroom, Spanish pool. What else?

They talked for about fifteen minutes more while Shannon made notes on her phone. With the price settled, Business-Shannon lost her temporary grip on Shannon's brain and she found her mind wandering back again to the image of the porn actors. She kept enough focus to ask Graham necessary questions so she could start work, but with each question half her brain was thinking about different questions she wished she could ask him instead. Where did you find those guys? Can that tiny girl actually have sex with those things? Could any woman? Can they get hard? Do they get even bigger when they're hard? Do only black men have porn penises like that?

Shannon thought about the word "hung" that she had heard used for men with big penises. She'd never thought about that word before but now she understood. Evan's penis just sort of "stuck out" a little when it was soft. It didn't "hang". When it was hard it pointed up. But those black men had hanging penises. How could they wear pants?

On the drive home Shannon's thoughts shifted to how she was going to tell Evan. She had to tell him. Not telling him was like cheating, a little. If he saw naked women by accident then he had better tell her, so of course she was going to tell him. But he didn't need details. What would be the purpose? On the other hand she could ask Evan some of the questions she had. He was the only one she talked to about sex, so if she didn't talk with him about it then she wasn't talking to anyone. Shannon was vaguely aware from television shows that women were supposed to have female friendships where they talked all about their sexual acts, but she had no idea how a conversation like that could get started. She had several friends, and a few good ones, but even with her more adventurous friends she just didn't see having a talk about giant black penises.

And then there was the question of why she cared. Right? What difference does it make? Why does she even want to know if a penis that large can get hard or not? Or if it could fit inside a woman? If she were dating one of those men these would be pertinent questions, but she's married to Evan, so they are...what? Academic. That was the word. Academic penis questions. Shannon burst out with a loud laugh in the car by herself.