The Porn Star Experience

"Oh yes, oh yes. Like that. Just like that."

Her voice became higher pitched. Opening my eyes, I could see hers clenched shut, her mouth in a tight grimace though which she squeezed tortured syllables. Her body stiffened, her words became groans, which became screams. This could not just be an actress being professional, could it? She seemed like a raw sexual being consumed by the intensity of sensations that were too much to cope with. Her body shuddered repeatedly, her screams crescendoed them abated, being replaced by a dull grunt or squeal each time I plowed into her.

I decided not to worry what was real and what was artifice, other more urgent thoughts filled my mind. It was my turn now. It didn't take long. I had been holding back, waiting for her. Ten, maybe fifteen more deep thrusts and I too could no longer deal with my mounting, thundering feelings. The tingles became pulsing, almost burning, throbbing. The throbbing became my cock muscles spasming, pumping and pumping, spraying semen into the recesses of her small body as I too screamed, my cock held still, but quivering repeatedly, deep in her.

It was hard to place them with respect to each other, but those had, without any doubt. been the two most Earth-shattering orgasms of my life. I collapsed forward over her back, my arms on the sofa either side of her torso, my cock still twitching inside her. I kissed between her shoulder blades, I kissed the tattoo on the side of her neck. I put one arm round her chest and squeezed her close to me, my chest heaving, my heart thumping. She too was panting, trembling, recovering. We stayed like that some time. Her cheek against the brown leather, mine against her soft, but now sweat covered skin. We had shared something, something good, something primal, something intense, something deeply, almost spiritually, satisfying. That's what I wanted to believe. I hoped I was right.

She captured the moment with eloquent simplicity, her words better than any I could have chosen.

"Fuck! That was fucking good."

--

Although the closeness was rather wonderful, our pose became a little uncomfortable in time; especially for my less than youthful knees. I straightened up and my deflating cock unintentionally slithered out of her. She put a hand to her asshole holding it there and clearly tensing her muscles. Seemingly satisfied she tapped her pussy twice, it seemed to be her thing.

Also straightening up, she twisted and grinned.

"No mess."

Another thought crossed her mind.

"So I've done some scenes playing with cum from out of my ass, but I didn't really like it. I love cum, I like A2M, but it always felt a bit, well, icky to me. Is that OK? I hope you're not disappointed."

I laughed.

"I have no particular fetish in that area. And even if I did, it would be churlish in the extreme to insist on it after that fuck. That was the best, simply the best."

She seemed pleased.

"That's a relief. Well I'm going to sort myself out and then have a shower. Want to join me? I can call you when I'm ready."

This was not a hard question.

"Of course."

She got down from the sofa, rather gingerly and obviously clenching. It was the first time I had seen her move in anything other than an entirely graceful manner. She seemed aware that she might look a little comedic.

"Our bodies are kinda ridiculous, aren't they? It's almost like The Creator didn't have anal sex in her mistress plan."

"There's some wipes in my bag if you need them, see you shortly."

She walked, rather than skipped towards the washroom. She really did have a great ass for so slim a girl, knowing it was full of my cum was the pièce de résistance.

I took a couple of her wipes and tidied myself a little, not wanting to stain the leather sofa. Though it struck me that a UV lamp might show clues to other encounters. It seemed to be that sort of apartment.

After a short while, I heard her voice saying that she was ready for me.

--

I could hear water tinkling as I approached the door. The room was large and tiled throughout in beige marble. Two basins were attached to the wall to the left, with a cubicle on the far wall behind them and a large tub next to this, running towards me. But turning to my right was a walk-in shower, with a large, floor-to-ceiling plate-glass screen. It was more than big enough for two.

She had her back to me and was adjusting the temperature of water falling rain-like from a large shower head. She looked so tiny. The edge of the shower water caught her shoulders and ran in little streams down her back and over her pert backside. Hearing me enter, she twisted her upper body and smiled broadly.

"I've got the temperature just right. Come and join me, or would you like to watch for a bit?"

I returned her smile.

"I think I might like to watch."

I stepped into the shower, but sat on a low ledge set back from the water's spray. I was spent from our recent activities, but who in their right mind would turn down an opportunity to watch a woman shower, least of all this woman. She giggled coquettishly, her head angled. The performer in her was clearly coming to the fore again. She was used to teasing and titillating; it was her job. But I began to think that maybe, just maybe, it was also her avocation. I wanted to believe so, maybe my wishful thinking again. I told myself not to get too carried away and instead to just enjoy the show.

She took a pace backwards, directly under the flowing water and sideways to where I now sat. Closing her eyes, she raised her head to the shower and let it play across her upturned face and drench her blonde locks. Opening her mouth, she let water fall into it, touching her lips with one hand. Her nearer breast was in silhouette, the nipple standing out, trails of water delineating her flawless curves.

Her left knee was bent, her heal raised and the pose emphasized her gorgeous butt, traced by shimmering rivulets.

She began to sway slowly from side to side and started to languidly spin with supple steps. She raised and lowered her arms rhythmically; a leisurely twisting dance to no music that I could discern. The drops of water looked like liquid jewels, adorning her skin in passing, only to be replaced by more and brighter ones.

The wet blackness of her tattoos glistened, giving her an almost shamankaic look. Or was she a beautiful fairy covered in dew? If she had spouted gossamer wings I would not have even blinked. She was hypnotic and erotic in equal measure, as if her deliberate motions were intended to summon her incubus. Despite my age and previous exertions, I began to feel stirrings. Maybe it was me she was trying to summon.

When she spoke her voice was dream-like too.

"I love warm water on my skin. And I love to dance. Do you like to watch me dance? Come and dance with me."

She held out both arms and I stood and joined her. Dancing was never a forte, but with her, it seemed easy, natural even. I followed her lead as we slowly pirouetted beneath the falling drops. The temperature was indeed perfect. At first we were at arms length, but she eased me towards her as we span. Hands still clasped at our sides, our bodies met. Releasing her grip, she placed her palms on the back of my head and pulled my lips down to hers. I joined my hands behind her back and we kissed, deeply and tenderly as the warm water ran over us and we continued to turn.

Her summoning spell had been a powerful one as, amazingly, I already had a partial erection. Who needed a pharmacy when you were in the presence of magic? Feeling the pressure against her body, she reached down, still kissing me, and grasped my cock. Her experienced hand work completed my miraculous resurrection. Parting she looked into my eyes, her hand still teasing me.

"Look what we have here. Do you want to fuck me again? I think I might like that."

Still under the shower, she knelt and took my fully erect cock in both hands. Looking up at me as water splashed her angelic face, she parted her lips and steered my glans between them. She didn't take that much of me inside her, focusing on sucking and licking, the intensity of which she gradually stepped up. Releasing me from her mouth momentarily, she licked her fingers and put her hand between my legs before the water could wash them clean. Going down on me anew, she pushed a fingertip against my anal opening and increased the pressure until one and then two digits slipped inside.

She now closed her eyes against the deluge and began to slide her lips up and down my shaft, her fingers probing my rectum to the same rhythm. As with anything sexual, her expertise was peerless and she located and began to stroke my prostate. The electricity from that merged with the mounting tingles generated by her oral attentions. I began to think that I might be able to cum again. As ever she was attuned to me.

"You want to fuck, don't you. Come with me."

She led me from the shower by the hand and tossed me a large towel, taking one herself. While drying she made a suggestion.

"I want you from behind, the anal fuck was so good. But, looking at the two of us, I think standing could work. But maybe with a little help. What do you think?"

"I think whatever you want is good with me."

She turned on her heel and threw a smirk over her shoulder as she skipped out of the room.

"Get dry, I'll be just a few minutes."

She was as good as her words. I had just hung up my towel when she returned. She had only roughly dried her hair and pulled it up in a loose bun, held by a large hair claw clip. She was still mostly nude, but now also wore a garter belt and stockings, both in scarlet, and a pair of vertiginous, black, patent leather shoes, strapped and open at the toe. She surveyed my cock and then her stilettos with a trigonometric eye.

"That should do nicely."

I had lost a little hardness in her brief absence, but as she bent, gripped one of the basins with both hands and stuck her ass out, legs slightly parted, the problem resolved itself very rapidly indeed.

She turned look at me, the face of an angel floating above a body sinful enough to tempt the most celibate of saints into fornication.

"I wore something just like this in one of my videos, I seem to remember you saying it was a favorite of yours."

The curse on my voice-box had returned, I was speechless. The years evaporated for me. Her hair was shorter, her body marginally less nymph-like and slightly more womanly. Her tattoos marked her years in the industry, like tree rings. But her face was as exquisite as ever, maybe more so. And most of all, it was her. She was here, she was real and she still had my cum in her pussy and ass. This was such stuff as dreams are made on.

"I'm guessing you might last a little bit, babe. That's good for me. I'd like my pussy first. Then, after I've cum, my ass again. Then, for the complete pornstar experience, how about you spray your seed all over my face?"

As she spoke she patted her pussy again. Invitations like that don't come around every day, or indeed in most people's lifetimes. I knew just how privileged I was.

I positioned the head of my throbbing cock touching her vaginal opening, grabbed her waist and lunged joyfully into her, being rewarded by a squeal and a loud "fuck yes!"

If this was indeed a dream, I had zero desire to ever wake up. If it was an act, then an Oscar surely beckoned.

--

One image from that day was indelibly imprinted on my memory as well as that of my iPhone. Her sweet, heavenly face painted with a larger quantity of cum than I had any right to anticipate, a volume that seemed to flout the very laws of Biology.

She was smiling, she was happy. She brought her innocence and her poise to a moment of pure depravity, making it almost sacred. I could say it to myself now, if not to her -- never to her, she was the girl I had loved so long vicariously, and now loved so much viscerally.

--

EPILOGUE

Waking up next to her, I suddenly felt awkward, attuned to my situation, self-conscious. My old doubts retuned. Maybe the spell had broken. Love? I'd said to myself what I had been too scared to admit. I knew it to be true, it had been true for some time now. But it was impossible, totally impossible.

It was getting late, indeed it had already got late. I noticed that rain has started pattering on the windows of the bedroom. I was reluctant to leave, but also wary of overstaying my welcome. There had been an arrangement we had made and I didn't want to abuse that; she had already been so generous, so giving. Love? What was I thinking? Love wasn't part of the deal we had struck. Get that stupid idea out of your head right now. I kissed her forehead and got out of bed. My words were rushed, but overly clinical, concealing my inner churning, or so I hoped.

"Thank you for everything. It's been wonderful. But I guess you have a busy day tomorrow. I have already been here much longer than we agreed; two or three hours longer. I should let you sleep."

She made as if to say something, clearly thought better of it and simply stared at me, maybe slightly incredulously. She sat up in bed and pulled the covers around her, a facsimile of a 1960s movie scene featuring a disgruntled wife.

I'd collected my clothes after our post-shower fuck and now retrieved them from the chair where I had placed them. I didn't know where to look as I dressed. I was acutely aware of those big, blue eyes watching me. I was also aware of something else, disapproval maybe, had I done something wrong? The extra time, I had even said it. What a blundering fool. I found my wallet and looked inside.

"What are you doing?"

I turned, still semi-dressed, to reply.

"Well I thought. The additional hours. Well maybe I should..."

I trailed off limply as her gaze became frosty.

"That's OK. Don't worry about it. It was nice to have some company on my first day in a foreign country."

Blushing at what now seemed like a serious faux pas, I stowed my wallet and rapidly finished dressing.

"Thank you so much for everything. And also for the extra..."

I stopped myself when she shot me a warning look. I tried to rally a little.

"It was wonderful. I'll always rememb..."

My confidence evaporated and I fell into embarrassed silence. Trust me to mess a good thing up. Best to just leave. I managed a taut, nervous smile and shuffled towards the door.

She got out of bed and pulled on the toweling robe she had worn earlier, loosely tying the belt and without much heed paid to propriety. I still got the vibe of her being pissed. I grabbed my coat off of the peg in the hallway and threw it on. I opened the door. Rain fell, illuminated by a light on the walkway outside. I raised a hand in farewell, but only got to half mast, deflated by her silent stare. With a sigh, that I tried to make inaudible, I turned to step out into the rain.

"You're an idiot, you know?"

I felt a quiver of apprehension, but, as I turned, she continued.

"So we had an arrangement, right? But that was over a long time ago. What do you think has been going on since then? Did you notice me checking the time?"

I was unclear what to say, what she wanted me to say.

"That was friendship, idiot. You know, humans thinking other humans are kinda OK. Humans having fun with humans they like. Do you have that concept here?"

This had not been my most loquacious of days and yet again I was tongue-tied and uncertain. Friendship? She said friendship, right?

"So when we first met, I said I wasn't busy today. That I'd kept the day free. Did that not compute? I said maybe we could hang. Did that translate into me begging for more money?"

She was accusatory, perhaps a little hurt even. I began to dimly grasp why.

"Your cash got you in the door and the pornstar experience. But what do you think we actually shared?"

I was lost, wanting to believe the best, fearful of the worst. Struck dumb between the extremes.

"OK, let's be super-direct for Mr. I never say what I'm feeling."

She took a breath, clearly dealing with significant internal frustration.

"Do you think I bareback just anyone, even with screening tests? Do you think I kiss most fans like I've been kissing you? Of course I don't. I only do that with friends. It's OK, you can say it without worrying I'll shut you down. Drop your stupid reserve, you don't need it round me."

Another thought crossed her mind.

"We agreed no proposals, right? I'm not your girlfriend, just a girl who likes you and likes to fuck. You're not my boyfriend, OK? But you are my... Why don't you just say it?"

I felt my heart swell and pinpricks of gratitude in my eyes.

"I'm your friend. Thank you for being my friend, angel. I'm sorry. I didn't want to presume."

Once more I was the beneficiary of that brilliant smile.

"Presume? Well d'oh! You and your fucking stupid diffidence."

Now she grinned.

"I know. I can see the headline now: 'widespread consternation as petite blonde uses long word!' Wow! That's two now."

She had self-deprecation down to a fine art. Maybe we had more in common than I realized.

"Now stop being an idiot. Come back inside, get undressed and cuddle up in bed with me. It's way too late and way too wet for you to head out."

Friendship. It was more than I could have wished for. It was more than enough... probably for always, definitely for now.

I shut the door behind me and walked back into the warmth and back into her bed.

--

THE END

--

Endnotes

These appear here as they relate to plot points.

• I have seen a screenshot of a discussion between the Literotica member on whose ideas this story is based and the woman it features. In this she provides her blessing, subject to certain caveats. I have no reason to doubt the veracity of this conversation, but I am not in direct contact with the woman and so have not independently confirmed it myself.

• The lady in question is well-known and, at her request and in order to protect her privacy, I have changed several details of her biography.

• As any of my regular readers (I hope all three of you are well) may have already discerned, I have based some elements of the physical appearance of the female lead on myself. We are around the same age and have a comparable build, though she is taller (and much prettier) than me. For once this is not my rampant narcissism, but again a desire to not inadvertently identify her. I have tried hard not to project my own personality on to her, but this can happen sometimes subconsciously.

• I considered using a variant or entirely unrelated name for the female protagonist, but given her actual image and voice were lodged in my mind while writing, this seemed somehow wrong. So she remains nameless, perhaps straining belief, but it's what worked for me.

• I have also not been specific about the location of the meeting, though there are enough references to be able to work this out easily enough. One reason for this is that I then feel no pressure to adopt the local spelling or argot. I'm a lazy writer and also not entirely convinced that I would pull off such a change.

• Finally, I will reiterate here that, while inspired by what the Lit member conveyed to me, this story remains my work of fiction and has many sections that I have made up in entirety.