The crew of “Wild Women on the Water” arrived at the beach pier destination to film a sequence between their signature model Laurel and a newly signed actor. Directing this erotic shoot would be tough on Aja. She wondered how she would handle her secret attraction to Laurel.
As Donald cleared the pier for filming, Aja received a text indicating their new actor went to the wrong location. She fumed about losing the time slot and the money.
“Why don’t you do it?” said Donald.
Leave it to Donald to make something good out of something bad. She studied his face and knew he wasn’t kidding. It had been a long time since she performed for the camera’s lens. The idea didn’t appeal to her except it would be with Laurel. “How should I approach her?”
“If you’re game, leave it to me.”
Aja and Donald worked together from her career beginnings, and she trusted his judgments about video shoots. Donald strolled down the pier with Laurel. Aja observed their animated gestures and laughter. He pointed to specific places on the pier, apparently discussing the shoot. Under his guidance, this scene might be salvaged. They turned and walked back toward Aja. Laurel beamed at her.
“Aja, go put on your swimsuit and meet us down the pier at the outdoor shower,” said Donald.
It unsettled Aja not to be calling the shots or know his plan. She grabbed her bag and headed to the bathhouse. She put on her thong bottom and little top. Her breasts stole the show with her rock hard nipples. Her ass still had performer quality. She could pull this off because she still had it.
Aja stared at her reflection in the mirror and considered her attraction to Laurel. Her desire began the second she laid eyes on Laurel, at the Mexico shoot six months ago. The suddenness of the attraction had stunned Aja. She remembered the vibrations riveting through her body were undeniable. But deny she did, when she discovered that Laurel had a girlfriend, Anabelle. Aja felt relegated to suffer her longing in the shadows.
Dismissing those thoughts as she exited the bathhouse, Aja arranged her work face. She knew Donald would film her entrance down the pier toward Laurel. Would the camera pick up more than what she wanted showing? How could she possibly filter the attraction running through her? Aja focused on Laurel under the showerhead. She resembled a beach siren. When Laurel arched her back, Aja glimpsed the model for a ship’s carved figurehead. Her breasts jutted forward, and Aja lusted after them and wanted to taste her nipples.
Approaching the shower, Laurel motioned for her to come under the water. In Aja’s dreams, she wanted this. She craved anything she could have with Laurel. A step away, Laurel pulled Aja under the running water and kissed her. The kiss ignited Aja. Their tongues mated. Teeth nipped the edges as Laurel sucked on Aja’s lips. The camera would eat this up. What a brilliant actor Laurel was. Aja’s longing burned.
Laurel turned the water off and with a naughty grin untied her wet swimsuit top. She plopped it on the pier. For the sake of the film, Aja held nothing back. She dropped to her knees and accepted the naked invitation. Leaning forward, she caught a coconut scent as she pinched both Laurel’s nipples. The moan escaping her set Aja on fire. She flicked her pointy tongue over Laurel’s nipple while she looked up into her intent face. Laurel held her breasts in each hand and rubbed her erect nipples over Aja’s face. Aja needed Laurel’s skin, so she kissed her hipbone and then ran her tongue into her bellybutton. Laurel sucked in her stomach, and Aja lifted her fingers into the top of her bikini. Feeling a perfect warmth, Aja pressed her face into the bikini bottom and kissed her vulva. Then she started to ease the bottom down. Laurel shivered.
“Cut,” yelled Donald. Laurel steadied Aja as she twisted left to face him. He hurried away down the pier. Aja quickly followed.
“Wait. What do you mean ‘cut’? We just started filming.”
“My work here is done.” He chuckled. “Aja, go enjoy yourself.” He nodded toward Laurel. “No more girlfriend. She’s got the hots for you, too.”
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Nick and Natalie walked into the beach condo. The decor proved that point. Seashell lamps and nautical designed fabrics graced the furniture and sea-themed objects were scattered in every room. They were surprised at how beachy it was.
“Come see the master suite. It’s like being inside a seashell. It’s so iridescent pink and shiny,” said Natalie. The sheers over the sliding glass door and the comforter on the king bed created the illusion of being in the pink shell channel. The mirrored closet doors doubled the effect.
Nick walked in behind Natalie. “This light embellishes your porcelain skin. Illuminated by this rose color your skin glows. I should shoot you in the backdrop of this…
“No, we are on vacation. You promised we would play… no work.”
“Baby, you know how I like assessing light. It turns me on, especially when it showcases your tasty body.”
“Let’s hit the beach first and see how that lighting works.”
“Alright, but my wheels will be turning.”
After they played in the surf, Natalie fell asleep by the pool. When she woke up Nick was gone. She gathered her belongings and headed inside.
Instrumental island music played as she entered the condo. “Nick, where are you?”
“I’m in the bedroom. I made mojitos, grab one.”
She dumped her stuff on the dining room table and spied the mojito pitcher. The scent of mint refreshed her as she poured a glass. Taking a sip, the drink’s coolness revitalized her. Holding the glass, she walked to the back of the condo to find Nick.
So much for not working, the master bedroom looked like a set for a photo shoot. Natalie sighed.
“You promised no working.” Disappointment ran through her.
“Do you see any photography equipment anywhere?”
Natalie glanced around the room and found none. “Then what are you doing?”
“You wanted to play and I wanted to enjoy the light, so I combined the ideas.”
Leaving the flush sheets on the bed, Nick had moved the comforter to the floor in front of the mirrored doors. He had added all the accent pillows on top of the comforter. The room was entirely bathed in pink.
Natalie grinned at him. He was her clever man. “The mojitos were a good start. What’s next?”
“Get rid of clothes and get on that comforter.”
Natalie heard the excitement in his voice. She took a sip from her glass and placed it on the bedside table. She reached behind her neck and untied her bikini top and let the cups fall. Was it the expression of desire on Nick’s face or her reaction to rolling her fingers around her nipples that caused a deep throb in her pelvis?
“Turn just a bit, baby. I want to see how the light plays on your breasts.” Nick came up behind her and untied the back of her top and threw it on the chair. He cupped both breasts and kissed her shoulder. Natalie looked down at his hands and their legs. For once, she might understand Nick’s work. The contrast of his medium to her light skin tone was a turn on, especially in this light.
He laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m not sure but it has to do our skin contrast. I want to see it all.”
They both undressed and stood in front of the mirror caressing each other, noticing how the rosy light altered their appearance.
“I want you to lie down on the comforter, so I can see the how the shimmering-pink shadow from the comforter cradles your skin.”
She reveled in his directions and desires. That sexy voice of his could get her to do anything.
“I’m going to stroke you good and watch you blush. You’ll add your own shade of delicate crimson…a photographer’s dream.”
His words aroused her as she settled down on the comforter. The expert photojournalist in him regarded her with intensity and she smoldered. Nick used one small detail, like light or color, and blew life into it. She knew he saw elements about her that others missed.
“I think I understand, Nick. Light combined with color is a dimension you live in.”
“Yes, and we are in that dimension now. It can only get better with sex. I always wanted to share this with you.”
His eyes were a proxy for his hands. Pressure and motion rained down on her. She dropped her knees out to the side, knowing he had moved his vision from her chest to her vulva. That thought alone stirred her blood.
“That’s my girl. Blush baby.”
He knelt over her and placed the heel of his hand in the center of her chest and his fingers crawled their way down her abdomen. With every nerve ending alerted, her body stood at attention, ready for anything. When his fingers found her vulva and curved them inside her, she pushed up. The decisiveness, with which he located the spot inside, caused her to arch off the comforter and reach for his penis. It became a lever in her hand. When she stroked and pulled forward, he rammed his fingers inside her, keeping rhythmic pressure on her g-spot while the heel of his hand ground into her clit. She bowed up again into his hand, her shoulders and head dropping behind her. With her last back arch, an orgasm ripped through her.
Upside down she saw the two of them in the mirror. Lost in a haze of warmth and pleasure, she viewed her milky-white skin next to his caramel skin highlighted by pink-blush. Natalie became the photographer. She snapped the picture in her mind. She captured everything in Nick’s dimension, pleasure, surreal light, and a seashell’s inner color.
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“I thought we were going to the foreign flick called Ginger’s Scent of French.” Daria read the marquee, “Best Porn in Town.”
Annie laughed. “Sometimes your brain amazes me. I told you we were choosing between Ginger’s Wet Dreams, Scent of Sex, and French Orgy.”
“No, I remember. There was no mention of porn.”
“But, you agreed I picked the next when and where for sex. Here we are.”
Annie was so much more adventuresome than Daria but she wanted to please her.
“Come on Daria. It’s not about the movie. It’s about the people who sit together in individual orgies, enjoying the sex vibes, while we create our own.”
“Yeah, I know. Okay, people…sexy styles.”
“So which movie?”
Daria giggled and shook her head. “Who cares? I’m seeing Ginger’s Scent of French.”
They purchased tickets and selected seats. When the lights lowered, couples eased in to the right and left of them. The movie heated up with licking and probing of cunts on screen and in the audience. The women on either side of them wanked like it was an art and a science. Daria sizzled, enveloped with the movie’s surround sound and the sexy, musky scents from the wet skin slapping. Wanting a taste of sex, she pinched Annie’s nipple causing her to jump. She threw Daria a hopeful expression and grabbed Daria’s face in her hands. Shifting closer, Daria sucked her lips. Daria’s eye lids popped up when a hand tugged her skirt, baring her pussy. Annie knew she was about to bolt, so she anchored her mouth to Daria’s with a long, hard kiss. Then she squeezed out one desperate word. “Please.”
Daria’s moment of truth arrived in the dark theatre. She shut out the good girl thoughts and focused on Annie.
Taking on a starring role, Daria licked Annie’s nipples while mystery hand stroked her own swollen labia and throbbing clit. When Daria shoved her fingers in Annie’s panties, she discovered another set of fingers, which ignited a passion explosion.
Daria and Annie leaned toward one another. The hum of a vibrator commenced behind Daria and after it touched her skin, it slid into her pussy. She gasped as the toy entered her. Wasting no time, she rode it. Annie drove her tongue into Daria’s mouth and sucked herself into an orgasm, moaning loudly. Daria’s body quaked with a potent orgasm. The buzzing stopped when the vibrator slipped out of Daria. She stroked Annie’s arms and kissed her softly, knowing this was the highlight of all her sexual experiences.
Audience members left quickly. The couple repositioned their clothes before the lights came up. Holding hands, they exited the theatre.
“What did you think of the movie, Daria?”
“I’d recommend Ginger’s Scent of Sex. What about you?”
“That may be my all-time, favorite, porn movie. Weren’t Jess and Jan phenomenal?”
“Aaaaah, you know, our costars.”
Daria stopped. “Did you arrange this?”
Annie winked. “I’ll never tell.”
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Evelyn looked across the control room and spotted Dean. “I need a hand,” she yelled. She hiked up her leopard print skirt to headline the tops of her black thigh-highs. The gap of skin between the stockings and dress breathed. It was like a reverse blindfold. Her body remained covered except this one strip of skin. Her vulva peered out as if watching from under a raised window shade. Power surged through her body and heat settled between her legs. She had felt it in their scene, but she wanted more. Would he give it to her?
“You do? What do you need?” Dean walked around the desk. “ooOhhh that kind of hand.”
“I thought you’d like the view.”
Dean’s head bobbed from her body to the monitor. “Which one?”
“The one in front of us.”
Dean peered into the television monitor, watching their scene replay and then he looked at Evelyn’s thighs.
“What do you like about them?” Evelyn nodded to the screen and shifted her hands moving the dress up a little further.
“They are starting to get to know each other, but she wants him to own her.”
Dean’s bluntness surprised her and Evelyn surveyed his face. “How can you tell?”
“It’s in her dress movement. She uses it like a bullfighter uses a cape. It sends directions. Then, she arches her back and strikes a pose.”
Evelyn stepped in front of Dean without blocking his screen view. She scooted back into him, sashaying her butt across his goods and then struck the pose. “What if it just feels right to know his cock is behind her? What if she hopes it is rock solid?” She baited him eager for what he would do.
“Oh, his erection will be steel because he knows she’s seducing him. He enjoys watching her sex maneuvers which are all focused on being caught.” Confirming his words, Evelyn pushed back into what could have been a metal pole between Dean’s legs.
“What do you think she likes?”
“Look at the screen. His palm is anchored against her pelvis with his fingers dipping inside her. He holds her firmly in place. She knows it’s only the first course of getting what she wants, and her mind wonders.”
Evelyn continued to watch the film. The contrast of their clothes, dark to light, showcased the gap of skin. Dean was accurate and his words describing the scene fueled her fire. “So trapped is a good thing?”
“For her, yeah. She is consumed. Fire runs through her.” Dean moved his hand down Evelyn’s right hip and to the edge of the stockings, and his fingertips hovered there radiating five points of heat. Her breathing accelerated.
“For her or you, Dean?”
“Both,” he whispered. “Look at the monitor; she even guides his working hand, caressing and directing him there. It’s nuanced, but I see it.”
“Right, it takes one to know one.”
“Of course it does. If I have a sexy, direct woman who steers me to capture her, I will, in many ways.”
“So, she is sexy and direct?”
“Her mind is her asset. She sets up what she wants and how she wants it. She craves a man who meets her desires and takes her past them with all the life-affirming, hard edges. That makes her sexy.”
Evelyn glanced around the studio. “Hmmm. She is used to a lot of people being around. Does she like everyone watching, as he takes her there?”
“The idea of their watching charges her up. She pretends everyone envies his fingers going in and out of her slickness. They want to kneel and worship her, smell her, and taste her. They live to see and hear her wetness as his fingers go in and out.” Dean shifted his hand and walked his fingers in patterns around Evelyn’s thigh to the inside. He anticipated her response. Evelyn’s legs trembled.
“The watchers know there is no chance for them if he’s in the mix.”
“Yes.” Her pelvis ached for him. This man read her accurately.
“So what’s your pleasure here, naughty girl?”
“After that commentary, your fingers and everything that comes after them.
Dean’s hand closed the gap. He slid his fingers through her labia and inside her slot and stroked. She gripped his hand, directing him just like she wanted.
I found Sonya on our bed, centered in a circle of disarrayed books with her magic wand humming. I moved to my designated place, the armchair at the foot of the bed. From there, like a patron of fine art, I studied the view, appreciating the nuance. Her foot attempted to hold her in place on the headboard of our bed like an anchor to this life. Sonya was lost in trance, lost in ropes, or lips, probing or licking.
She possessed a heightened skill of sexual empathy. Through the words in a story, she stepped into a character’s skin and experienced the desire, anxiety, and longing. Her powerful response culminated in frenzied explosions, orgasm after orgasm. In the end, she always whimpered, and when she whimpered, my turn had arrived. I may not have her skill to join all the characters, but my talent was connecting with her in the creative afterglow.
Thank God I came home to retrieve my portfolio or I would have missed this event. From the look of things, Sonya had been wonderfully naughty. On top of the bed, her discarded red and white polka-dot skirt was strewn over opened books. Her lace blouse, still on her body and thrown open, suggested her frantic nature. Leaning toward me, her breasts swelled and her bra barely contained them.
After I had counted the fifteen books around her, I imagined how she created today’s experience. Had she orchestrated the order of the stories, building her to the crescendo she wanted? Was she reading from one book to the next as if she was a prostitute moving from one person to another? Had I walked in on her first orgasm or her seventh? Dare I imagine who was on the bed, each one from a book laying there? Which one got her the hottest? She enjoyed making a show, sometimes she let me know ahead of time, but sometimes it was spontaneous, like today. When she worked this, I never interfered with her sexual creative writing process. Sometimes she talked to me about the books, the stories, the insights, the yearnings, but only afterward. Process intrigued her and we both appreciated she had a unique one. We celebrated it in the afterglow.
A light gasp, the barest of a sound, slipped from her mouth and pulled me from the pictures in my head. I approached the edge of the bed. Her head rolled off a book and she studied me. Desire burned in her eyes.
“Colin, you came.”
“No, but you did. Are you scene hopping?” I caressed her arm, moisture tingled on my fingertips.
“For a while, yes. Then I had an idea, it consumed me. I got lost. You were there. I called to you. We connected.” I stared into her flushed face. Hazy eyes stared back at me. She was in transition between a fiction world and the real world. It was time to connect her to ours.
“What can I do?”
“Take the reins, Colin, ride me home.”
A plea? My heart stopped. She invited me into her private creative space. Like one of her characters, she wanted to experience me within her process.
“I’ll keep the wand going; ground me back here.” She raked her fingers through my hair. “Please. I need you. Bring me home.”
I strode around the bed and threw the books off. I brushed away the essence of the people, events, and stories, removing them from her sexual sphere to prompt her to our space. I picked up her skirt and lightly dragged it up her body, then over her face. Her chest rose as she inhaled her flowery scent. My fingers traced her breasts at the edge of the bra. My breath hitched as goosebumps danced across her skin. She was so responsive with one hand on the vibrator, the other in her folds. Her legs thrashed on the sheets. She hovered in arousal. I stroked each leg and both of her arms, reminding her skin, it was me.
“What’s your plan, Colin?”
“Keep pleasuring yourself. I will take the reins. You will respond to me.”
My mind reeled. This was her creative arena, not mine. I repeated to myself, over and over, “Take the reins.” The idea came to me like a burst of sunlight through the clouds. Take her reins. She still wore her panties. I moved back to her left side on the bed.
“Sonya, you must do exactly what I tell you.”
“Yes, yes. The last orgasm’s yours.”
I had incentive. The afterglow was all about us. She needed a real life sensation to get her out of the fictional realm. I slid my hand over her left hipbone enjoying her soft, silky skin. I hooked my fingers into both her panties leg holes, bunching them in my hand and gripped them like the reins on a horse. I yanked back hard into her vulva. Her back arched off the bed and the whir of the wand strained.
I lived for the way she moaned my name. I dropped my mouth by her ear.
“Sonya, listen to my words. This orgasm is mine. You are having it for me, no one else. Do you understand?” I clamped down on the panty rein and pulled left. The lace gave way and dropped into the crack of her butt. Perfect leverage. I held her most responsive areas in my reins. Pressure near her clit and her ass drove her crazy.
“Pinch your nipples.” Her breathing hitched as her breast popped out of the bra cup and she latched on to one nipple. I found a rhythmic motion with the panties that matched her efforts on her nipple. Her skin began to flush and the top of her ears tipped crimson.
My nose nuzzled her ear and my breath eased out. “Sonya.” I stroked her hair knowing I was in her head and commanded her sex parts. “Where are you?”
“I want you home, now.”
She turned her face to my voice, licked her lips and parted them. My lips crashed into hers and I sought out her tongue. If the panties helped me to pull her back, I would suck her to me, the rest of the way home. Locked together, our motions rocked the bed. I drew in her want and need through my mouth. Everything became one, the vibrator, the reins, her nipples, and our tongues. When her orgasm hit her, she bit me. The metallic taste, mixed with her sweetness, created the hardest erection I had ever experienced.
When our bodies stilled, she gazed into my eyes. Blue irises shone. Sonya was home. She kissed my lips softly.
“You got me off and brought me home. Thanks for another new scene.”
I smiled. “Let the afterglow begin.”
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She never heard George step up behind her naked body. Standing in front of the armoire mirror, she assessed herself. His eyes followed her. The same look of interest was there now, exactly like it had been forty years ago. Focusing back on her body, she saw her life’s road map etched there. Grey hair. Cesarean scar. Cellulite. And one hip slightly lower than the other, from the last hip replacement.
“Alice, did you hear me? Do you want to?”
Looking up at George, she searched his eyes and smiled. “I want to. Can we pretend it was the day we met?”
“Ahhh, babe, you’re reminiscing. What a turn on. Then my vote is to replay the night we got pregnant with Dan.” The soft skin around his eyes crinkled in delight, as he smiled. George circled his warm arms around her body. He rested his chin on her shoulder and observed her expressions in the mirror.
“You were a beast that night.”
“I believe you came more that night than any time in our life.”
“I would blush, but I’m too old.”
“Baby, we are never too old.” He palmed both her breasts, knowing exactly how to trace her nipples to bring them alive. “It stoked my fire when you told me you had never done ‘that’ before, but you had thought about it with me. I am so lucky that you wanted me to be the one.
“The wicked idea of your fingers in my backdoor got me so wet. It scared me, but I wanted to experience it and lots of other things, too.” Alice had chosen to allow George to witness her vulnerability and he had met her on that playing field. A lifetime of hot sex existed because of that.
“We used up all the lube that night. You were insatiable.”
She touched the cesarean scar. “Dan was a big baby.”
George placed his hand over hers. “He’s only one of the big things we created together.”
“Yeah, what about our near scandal?” Alice laughed.
A confused and then troubled look crossed George’s face. “Remind me.”
“The Carson’s dinner party. I wore that long, flowy dress, no panties. You stood behind me in the kitchen and slid my dress up in the back with that room full of…”
“Oh, yes, yes. There was a mirror across the room. The look of surprise on your face seared me, when my hand rubbed across your wet pussy. Everybody kept asking if you felt okay.” George chuckled.
“And you kept right on rubbing. You always pushed the envelope.” Alice leaned back into him.
“You were always hotter with the unexpected.”
“I liked it.”
“I know you did. I’m lucky I found someone who believed that when two people enjoy what they did together sexually, it was okay, whatever it was. You remember John and Clara’s house?”
Alice reached back and rubbed up and down George’s thighs. His penis twitched against her. “Uh, huh.”
“Alice, you liked it when I set up ultimate surprises.”
“But a swinger’s party? My panic and desire danced together.”
“And a dance it was my dear, but you used it to your advantage. You always upped the ante. The moment you selected Carl’s car keys, I heard your wheels start turning. My heart nearly exploded when you told Lydia and Carl you wanted a foursome.”
“Well, watching is a favorite of yours.” Alice swayed in his arms, her breasts jiggling.
He stared at her breasts. “Only you know how to drive me insane. I can see it now. Lydia sat naked on the couch and Carl sat on the floor between her legs looking up at you in disbelief.” Heat crept up into Alice’s pelvis and she wondered if today sex might work.
“Wearing that crimson-red bra and thong, you straddled him. When you bent over to suck Lydia’s nipples, I saw him push your thong over and stick his tongue out to taste your pussy. God, I burned.”
“I stole a glance at you over my shoulder. You stroked that hard erection, as if there were no tomorrow.” She saw a shadow cross his face in the mirror and knew the memory faded.
“Erections don’t get hard like that now.”
The sadness in his voice crushed her. Alice turned around facing George and placed her hands on his face. “I think we’ve done pretty well making accommodations. I wouldn’t have wanted to share that with anyone but you.”
“You’re not disappointed in me?”
“How could I be? You are still here with me.” She tapped his head with her finger. “George, we have our minds. We’re still creative. We know how to work each other even if our bodies can’t always get there.” Taking George’s hands in hers, Alice kissed each knuckle.
“You always know the right things to say. So what do you think, hon, is today a day for us?”
“Our stroll through memory lane ignited some sparks. I’m ready to explore.”
“What do we need?” George stood a little straighter, excitement running through him.
“Maybe extra pillows for lift, the right hip is hurting.”
“I took a Viagra already.”
“You had this planned, you old dog.” She swatted his shoulder, giggling.
“Hoped is more accurate.”
“What is it you hoped for, my dear?”
He fanned out his hands and wiggled his fingers. “No arthritis symptoms and I located a new bottle of lube.”
“You say the sweetest things.” She looked into the eyes that held desire for her, always.
“How about we try that new office chair instead of the pillows? We can adjust the height and you can use the moveable arms for stability.” Alice cocked her head considering the suggestion.
“I want to see your face and eyes when you slide on my erection. We can sit in front of this mirror.” George’s eyes gleamed.
“Front door or back door?” asked Alice. A soft blush bloomed on her chest.
“You take my penis in the front. I told you my fingers were in good shape today. I feel memories in the making.”
Alice patted his arm. “And it will become another scene for our collection."
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