My Role in Porn

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Like any twenty-two year-old guy whose girlfriend had just dumped him, I was at a bar, drowning my sorrows. I didn’t know the bar. Not wanting to run into any acquaintances, I’d picked a dive a few miles from my neighborhood. I’m not much for hard liquor, so I was slugging down beers and spending almost as much time going back and forth to the john as drinking my beer. But, after the fourth or fifth beer, I had a pretty good buzz on. I was just half-watching the ballgame on the TV and exchanging a word or two from time to time with the bartender. Mostly, I was emotionally numb – anesthetized with alcohol. Just what I had been shooting for.

Then she walked in. It was impossible not to notice her. She was almost movie-star hot, though she looked kind of cheap and trashy. But, still, she was sexy as hell – long legs with ridiculously high heels and a tight skirt that barely covered her round ass. Her blouse was tight, too – the front sides pulling apart slightly between the strained buttons. If her clothes weren’t enough of a “fuck me” message, her make-up left no doubt.

I noticed her; but I wasn’t interested. I mean, in some abstract sense, I was, of course. But I really didn’t feel in the mood to chat her up. Besides, she was probably a hooker looking for a john. I’d never paid for sex before. I wasn’t opposed to it in principle. In fact, I thought it might be interesting to try sometime. But now wasn’t the time. I was nursing my wounds and perfectly happy to wallow in my misery. And if she wasn’t a hooker, she was probably looking for a sugar-daddy type – a rich old guy, not a poor young guy like me.

But then she sat down next to me. It wasn’t like that was the only seat left in the place, or even at the bar. There were plenty of seats where she wouldn’t have been next to anyone. I didn’t know what to make of it. I turned toward her slightly, nodded, and smiled, but just to be neighborly. I went back to my beer without saying a word.

“I’m Shelley,” she said, breaking the silence. Well, you can’t just ignore an invitation for an introduction so I told her my name was Mark.

“So, Mark,” Shelley continued after she’d ordered her drink – some sort of fancy Martini – “what you do when you’re not swigging beer in a dirty little dive like this?” I told her that I had just graduated from college, majoring in marketing, and had gotten a job – even in this lousy economy – with a retail electronics company. It was entry-level, but it had potential.

I didn’t ask her right away what she did. I was still entertaining the hypothesis that she was a hooker and, if that was so, I thought it might be rude to ask her what she did. So we chatted about nothing in particular for a while. It was kind of nice, really, to be drawn out of my funk. I even forgot about Victoria for a while.

Shelley made no sort of invitation for a sexual business deal so I began to suspect that I’d been wrong about her profession. When I asked her what she did “when she wasn’t in a dirty little dive like this,” she said she was “in the entertainment business.” Okay, now I figured I was right in the first place and I didn’t pursue it.

“No,” she said – almost as if she was offended. She’d clearly read my expression correctly. “It’s not like that!” I was embarrassed and began to sputter and apology. She cut me off with, “Well, it’s sort of like that, I guess. Depends on how you think about these things.” She had my interest, but she teased me by taking a sip of her drink and getting out a cigarette. I was silent while she lit her cigarette and took her first drag. But when she didn’t go on without prompting, I prompted.

“What does ‘sort of like that’ mean?”

“Well…” She took another drag. “I make movies.” She looked at me for my reaction. “I mean, I act in movies.”

“What kind of movies,” I asked before I really thought about it.

“You’re bright. Just graduated from college. You figure it out.”

“Oh, wow…” I said, not feeling very bright. “Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it – at least mostly like it. And, if I were embarrassed, I would have told you I worked at Macy’s or something.”

Now I was really intrigued. I’d never met anyone in the porn industry before and I had a ton of questions that I’d wondered about for a long time. But I didn’t want to seem like a rube so I approached things gingerly. I started with innocent questions like when she started making movies.

“You mean *porn* movies,” she said, hoping to break the barrier by saying what, for me, seemed unsayable. “About five years ago.” And then she went on, speaking about it with surprising openness – answering some of my questions and making me more comfortable asking others.

“It’s a good way to make money, if you have the looks and aren’t hung up.” She took a sip of her drink. “I can make a lot of money without working very hard and I can decide when and how much I want to work.”

“You read a lot about women being exploited and abused in the porn industry,” I hazarded.

“Not my experience,” she replied without suadiye escort hesitation. “And I haven’t really seen it. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen. It probably does. I suppose it depends on who you’re working with, how you got into it, how strong you are, and a lot more. For me, if I don’t want to do something, I don’t do it. I call the shots and I can walk away anytime I want.”

“So you’re happy in the business?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve met creeps in the business, of course. But you meet creeps in any business. For the most part, the guys are fine – the actors, directors, camera men and all.”

She paused and then, when I didn’t blurt out another question, she went on. “You know, there is real acting involved. I don’t mean serious stuff. There are no Dustin Hoffmans or Meryl Streeps in the business. But it’s not just people having sex on camera. Some of the guys who typically play studs, because they look the part, are kind of shy. And I know a girl who regularly plays a dominatrix but is really the kindest, gentlest person you can imagine.”

“How about you? What sort of character do you play? And is it a stretch for you or are you just being yourself?”

“I play lots of roles. Most of us do. Don’t want the fans to get bored, you know. But recently I’ve often been playing the hot-wife, cheating-wife, and cuckoldress roles.”

I was a little puzzled. I’ve watched as much porn as the next guy, but I wasn’t sure I understood the distinctions she was suggesting. It sounded like she thought she was separating these roles but they all sounded pretty much the same to me. I guess my confusion showed.

“They’re different. I guess you’ve got to be into it a little to know all these distinctions. A cheating wife is just what you’d expect. Pretty ordinary run-of-the-mill, real-life character. She’s just a wife who has sex with someone other than her husband without her husband’s knowledge or consent. That’s what makes it *cheating*. Sometimes, of course, the cheating wife gets caught. Then the story can go different ways. A cuckoldress has sex with other men, without her husband’s consent but she lets him know about it. Sometimes she makes him watch; sometimes she even makes him participate, but not as a three-way, two men on one woman. He’s in a subservient role. Maybe he just serves then drinks or something, but he might also have to get her ready for her lover or clean or both of them up afterwards. There’s a big dom/sub element. A hot wife has sex with other men with her husband’s blessing – often at his urging. Sometimes he’s watching, sometimes not. Sometimes he’s involved, too, but it might just be in a two-guys-on-one-chick way.” She took another drink. “And, there are lots of variations; the boundaries aren’t always clear. Isn’t that the way it always is with art.”

Shelley smiled. The art reference was intended to be self-deprecating.

“I don’t get the hot wife thing. You mean guys get off on seeing their wives fuck other men.”

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe the things some guys get off on. But I’m betting more guys get off on imagining seeing their wives fuck other guys than do from actually seeing their wives do it. Fantasies aren’t dreams for reality, you know. The lure of the strange and forbidden, and all that.”

“So, why do you play those sorts of roles?”

“They fit me now. When I first started, I could do the wide-eyed teen roles – you know, the innocent teen who acts like this is her first time. She’s stunned by how big the guy’s cock is, doesn’t know if she can fit it in her mouth, but tries hard to do it. You know, the angel-to-slut-in-one-good-fuck transition… Don’t tell me you didn’t know that guys get off on that!” Shelley laughed. “But now that I’m older, it’s harder to pull off that role. And, besides, lots of the men who watch my stuff are regulars – fans. You have to move on. They’ve seen you do the innocent teen thing and they’re not buying it forever. They want to see you progress.”

Then I asked a question that had been bubbling up in my consciousness for a while but I hadn’t known how to ask without it coming out as a variation on the, “What is a girl like you doing in a place like this?” question. I couldn’t think of a way to avoid this so I said, hoping it would come off right, “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“You mean in a cheap bar? Where would you expect to see a girl like me?” She wasn’t offended; she was just joking, too.

“No, I mean I know were not far from Porn Valley,” referring to San Fernando, “but it’s not just around the corner.”

“Oh,” Shelley began, “we were going to do a shoot in a guy’s house near here. You know, we need different settings to keep the videos fresh. This guy my producer knew slightly has a terrific house for us to shoot in.”

“So why aren’t you there shooting the film.”

“We’re missing a crucial actor. The same guy who owned the house was supposed to play a role in the film. He chickened out.”

“What?”

“The guy was an amateur. He was in the thing only because he’s çekmeköy escort loaning us the house. When we got there, film crew and all, he was gone. He left a note saying that we were welcome to use the house but he decided he couldn’t be part of the film.”

“Can’t you just shoot around him?” I asked, as if I knew what I was talking about.

“No. His character is crucial and in the whole film.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I told the director that I’d go to a local bar and find someone who was willing to play the role.”

For just a moment, this didn’t register fully. I was so into my “interviewer” role that I almost asked, “and did you find someone?” But when it hit me, I was floored. Shelley was asking me to play a part in a porn film! WTF! These sorts of things don’t happen to people – certainly not to me.

“It’s easy,” Shelley said, sensing my astonishment and reluctance. “And you’re perfect for the part.”

“I’ve never acted in anything,” I said, surprising myself because it sounded as if I was thinking about it but not sure I could pull it off. Was I? I wasn’t sure now.

“Forget what I said earlier about this involving real acting. Of course we play people other than ourselves. But all you need to do for your role is to imagine yourself in the scene and act the way you think you would act.”

“Wait, what kind of scene?” Well, I guess that answered my internal question about whether I was seriously considering this. Why else would I be asking for details.

“Well, it’s the kind of film I told you I’ve been doing recently.” Shelley took a breath. “This one’s a cuck scene.” Another pause while she evaluated my response. “You come home from work; I’m dressed in a negligee and I tell you I have a surprise for you. You’re eager but soon find out that my surprise is that I’m going to have sex with another man – and not just any other man – a guy from your work who just beat you out for a big promotion. You’ll have a few scripted lines, but mostly you just need to look shocked, hurt, and despondent. Andy – that’s the leading man – and I will be taunting you so it won’t be hard to look dejected.”

“I don’t know…”

“Well, the director said, since we’re in a pinch, I could offer you $1,000 – damn good pay for an afternoon’s work.”

“Yeah, it is.” And I could really use the money; that’s for sure. But I was still hesitating.

“Look, I’ll tell you what.” Shelley put her hand on mine. Wow, that felt nice! “I don’t want today to turn out to be a bust for me. If you’ll do this, when we’re done, I’ll take care of you any way you want. Ya got any fantasies, boy? Ever thought of what you’d like to do with a porn star?”

Sure I had. And, furthermore, I’d been thinking of things I’d like to do to Shelley since she sat down next to me – before I knew she was a porn star.

“Okay, I guess I can try,” I stammered out, surprising myself.

“You’ll be great.”

She drove us up to the house – a stunning ranch house on a hill with a large pool and a great view over the valley. I met the crew and the rest of the cast – which meant Andy. They all seemed nice, and normal, enough. I was put at ease. Maybe this wouldn’t be as weird as I worried it might be. And, in any case, there was a grand and a bonus waiting for me when it was over.

Since Shelley had called ahead to say that she’d found a stand in, they were ready to shoot when we arrived. Ted, the director, went over the scene with me, giving me more details than Shelley had in the bar. He gave me a few pages of script but told me not to worry about memorizing it. Ad libs were better. I just needed to know the direction things were going and to play along. The main point was that it was clear that Shelley’s character, Nina, was the dominant one in our relationship. My character, Howard, was a wimp and would acquiesce to Nina’s demands no matter how demeaning.

We did the “honey, I’m home thing” and Nina’s telling me she had a surprise for me part smoothly and I began to relax and get into the role. God, Shelley – Nina, I mean – looked hot in the negligee she was wearing. It was translucent powder blue and just covered her ass. It had a pushup bra built in that exposed the tops of her deliciously round, milky smooth breasts. It occurred to me that I was going to go through several hours of fake humiliation for some very real pleasure at the end. I could do this.

Nina told me to sit down in a chair by the bed and not to move unless she gave me permission. I did a reasonable job of acting confused and nervous, but ultimately compliant. Nina left the room and returned with Rod in tow. (Really! That’s what Andy’s character’s name was. I guess there was no money in the budget for the scriptwriter who showed any creativity. Or, maybe they knew their audience. Maybe this worked with a certain audience.)

“Honey, what are you doing? Who’s this?” I said in a plaintive voice.

“Rod, this is Howard, my husband,” she said, introducing me to him first and making ‘husband’ sound like a term of derision. “And şerifali escort Howard,” continuing in a condescending voice, “this is Rod, my boyfriend and the man who’s going to give me the sort of fucking I deserve.”

“What? You can’t do this, Nina.” I protested impotently. “I love you. You’re my wife.”

“Yes. I’m *your* wife; but I’m *Rod’s* lover… well, and his slut, fuck-toy, cock-sucker, bitch… really, anything he wants me to be.”

“Don’t do this. Whatever problems we have, we can work them out,” I pleaded.

“Oh, I’ve already done *this*… lots of times with Rod and with other guys before him. This is just the first time you get to watch.” Shelley’s… Nina’s voice was cold and cruel. “And *we* can’t ‘work out’ the problem. The problem is that you can’t satisfy me. Your dick is way too small and you cum too soon. You’re just not much of a man, Howard. And you’re not even into oral sex – giving, I mean – so you can’t even please me like a woman could.” Man, this Nina bitch was cruel! “The problem, Howard, is *you*! And I’ve already solved it. I’m just letting you in on what the solution is. You can watch it and see how far short of being a real man you are; and ‘short’ is the right word, isn’t it?”

Nina’s tirade was just acting, of course, but I felt humiliated. I felt embarrassed and emasculated. I didn’t have to feign my wimpish resignation.

“Come on, Baby,” Nina purred to Rod. “Let’s have some fun.” And then, turning to me and using a completely different tone, she said, “And you, sissy fag, just sit there and watch. And don’t get any ideas about interfering. It’s not just in the sex department that Rod’s three times the man you are.”

She turned back to Rod and began unbuttoning his shirt and running her hands over his massive chest in a sensuous and submissive way. Rod pulled open Nina’s negligee, exposing the perfect tits I’d been admiring since she walked into the bar. I was guessing that the perfection was the work of a plastic surgeon but, if so, he’d done a great job. They looked completely natural. There wasn’t any noticeable scar but I guess they have ways of hiding those pretty well now.

Rod lifted Nina’s chin and kissed her deeply, passionately, and, really, possessively. I felt jealously! How ridiculous. I’d met Nina… I mean Shelley… less than two hours ago. She wasn’t my wife. I had no claim on her. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t jealousy I was feeling; it was only envy… I just wanted to be Rod. It was true that I felt envy, but I think I felt jealousy, too. I guess I was getting into my role.

Nina, now wearing only her high heels and her lace panties, sank to her knees and began unbuckling Rod’s belt and unzipping his pants. She went at this with a relish – a fervor, really – that bespoke uncontrollable lust. Nina pulled out Rod’s rod. (Sorry, but why did they give him the name ‘Rod’?) She looked hungry for it and lunged at it, eager to consume it. She worked his pants down with her hands as she wrapped her lips around his rapidly stiffening, and growing, shaft.

I felt my own cock stiffening, too. Seeing in person this stunning woman work Rod’s hard and, I noticed, enormous cock with her lips and mouth was the hottest thing I’d ever seen – orders of magnitude beyond watching things like this on the computer. I congratulated myself on my decision to take Shelley up on the offer to be in the film. If I hadn’t, I never would have experienced such intense voyeuristic pleasure.

The pleasure was compromised some when Nina stopped her ministrations on Rod’s cock and turned to me to say, “See, Howard… this is what a real man’s cock looks like. And the looks are the least of it. His cock fills my hand and my mouth completely and leaves me wanting to be able to be able to take even more of him into my mouth. Your pathetic penis is like a limp wiener. I can feel it in my mouth but, really, why would I want to?”

She was looking right into my eyes as she shamed me this way and I didn’t have to feign discomfort and humiliation. Nina got up and walked over to me. The camera followed her closely. I watched her gorgeous breasts swing gently as she walked and my eyes were draw to her crotch. Her panties were clearly sopping with her juices, flowing freely from her excitement over Rod’s dick.

“Ooohh, I see you have a little stiffy in your pants, don’t you?” Nina knelt down in front of me. Now I wasn’t only aroused, and humiliated; I was nervous about where this was going. Nothing had been said about me being involved in any way other than looking uncomfortable and pleading for this to stop. But, when Nina reached for my zipper and began the process of pulling out my dick, I thought about what it would feel like to have her hand, and maybe more, wrapped around my cock. I wasn’t about to stop her. She had to struggle a little to get me out because I did, indeed, have a stiffy in my pants – a stiffy to top all stiffies.

Her touch excited me beyond description. My cock is about average size but Nina had a way of holding it that made it seem smaller. For just a second, I considered the difference between the way she held my cock, making it look puny, and the way she held Rod’s cock, which exaggerated its size. I’m not saying I was any match for Rod in that department, but the difference wasn’t as much as it appeared from the tricks that Nina used.

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