The Starlet Contest

After a lot of spitted DP—mouth and cunt or ass—Mariah is eventually made airtight—three-holed. One of the Fornicating Fivesome suggests it, but it takes Mariah's direction to realize it. Grunting and grabbing, she pulls one of them onto the blanket then, after giving him a quick stroke and a suck, she straddles him, sinking smoothly onto his rampant staff. Then, reaching behind her to spread her ass cheeks, and waggle her bum, she pushes back to assist the entry of a second erection. She bounces a bit until both cocks are fully ensconced, then looks about, grabbing the nearest bobbling prick and stuffing it in her mouth. She begins to rock and jolt, searching for an all-inclusive rhythm. The remaining two stand, waiting their turns, observing and stroking themselves, and reaching in to pinch and twist and pull at her nipples, further inflaming her out-of-control arousal.

Rocking and juddering frenetically, Mariah finds the building tension virtually unbearable. Squealing around the weapon filling her mouth, she huffs and blows with each pounding thrust into her deeps, moaning in counterpoint to the abuse repeatedly visited upon her boobs, until, like a runaway train, she finally crashes into a monstrous orgasm—her body flailing and bucking under the sensual assault. The cowboys, hanging on for dear life, continue their trash-talk, treating her like the slut she realizes she has become. Although, she continues to tell herself, "It is only temporary, just for the sake of the contest."

As the dusk fades to dark, in one of those odd, suddenly silent moments, the whole orgy becomes aware of noises coming through the woods around them. So, in an eerily synchronized move, the anonymous five all pull out abruptly, dumping her unceremoniously onto her back on the blanket, and, standing around her, cocks in hands, they all just start whacking off. In an unplanned, unrehearsed bukkake, they jerk off and cum all over her, before discreetly heading off in all directions, not wishing to be caught with her; leaving her lying stunned and covered with spunk, dripping cum from her face to her thighs.

Somehow, Mariah manages to pack up and make her way home in a blur, but without incident. Sticky and dripping from under her hastily thrown-on clothes, she sheds her garments at the door and rushes to her first order of business—a hot bath.

She's not sure whether she feels satisfied, or sated, or disgusted; is this euphoria or the relief of survival? She can't even determine if what she's feeling is positive or negative, she only knows that she's tingling with sensation—self-perpetuating echoes of her earlier crises. Lying submerged in the hot water she muses, letting her fingers migrate to the vee of her thighs. Stroking and feathering her sensitive pussy, twiddling her still-engorged clitoris, it isn't long before, oblivious of the surging bubble-bath splashing the floor and bathmat, she brings herself to another heaving, gasping climax.

Though she feels the static camera footage is rather disappointing, Mariah does the best that she can with it, submitting what she feels is at least a presentable video scene.

But then, the challenges abruptly stop. Mariah worries. How can she secure the Grand Prize if they don't communicate? Interestingly, she has subtlety convinced herself that she's absolutely sure must have already won. How could she not? Furthermore, she realizes, she already misses the outrages prescribed in the contest challenges—the planning and the execution. She had only begun to admit to herself how much she loved her sexual adventures of late.

After a fortnight of email silence, during which she sends a query, "I haven't received the next challenge; or otherwise heard from you. I everything all right?" she, finally, receives a missive.

"Congratulations, you are a winner. You have faithfully met all of our demands and expectations. Thank you. - Details to follow."

"Is that it?" Mariah asks herself. "What do they mean 'a winner'? What about 'the winner'? I mean I did more than just meet all their outrageous demands, didn't I?"

But the truth is pretty much revealed in an email the following day, apparently sent to all of the contestants. "We apologize. Unfortunately, the grand prize is unavailable due to administrative problems." The text goes on into some long-winded explanation; however, although the organizers never admit it, the extent of the scam becomes painfully obvious. There really is no winner. They were all smoothly taken in with empty promises of fame and riches. Mariah is probably more surprised at how hardly surprised at all she is. She's heard the axiom many times before: "If it seems too good to be true, it probably is!"

"Still," the email reads, in conclusion, "you are indeed a starlet! Check it out." Included is a link to a website called 'Women Misbehaving'." Curious in her disappointment, Mariah clicks on the link, discovering, first off, that the site is actually subtitled, "Gullible—Taken In!" And is searchable by starlet name or challenge number as well as a plethora of other fields. It seems that Mariah along with the other remaining active contestants—and who knew how many of them there were— have been given 'lifetime membership' key-codes to the porno website, as acknowledgement for having persevered. There are hundreds of women featured on the site. In fact, still twenty or so were participating in challenge number twenty-one, the final challenge.

With a mixture of dread and resignation, Mariah calls up 'Mariah S', her own portfolio, to peruse. Of course, she's seen all that. But curiosity trumps her dread, so, she begins to surf through the site using other keys, and soon realizes there are hundreds upon hundreds of hours of material here. After viewing many random scenes, Mariah feels an unexpected sense of pride in realizing that her entries were most certainly among the best productions. Most of the clips she saw were rather amateurish, some even childish—jerky, and stilted, too much camera movement, way too short scenes, bad angles, and lousy lighting. And, oddly enough, this strange sense of pride superseded the mortification she had felt initially.

In the end, Mariah realizes she hasn't been alone. She takes some small comfort in the knowledge that there are about twenty others that have hung on just as long as her. It was, perhaps, of little interest to her that those remaining participants—indeed, all the participants—all those scam victims spoke with many different accents and in several different languages. It had been a truly cosmopolitan fraud.

The site becomes very popular. Mariah, and, apparently, a great many other young women around the world, while generally humiliated, have indeed become starlets of a sort.