Suddenly, the volcano inside her genitals erupted, sending her hot, sticky discharge of joy juice pouring from her cunt. At the same time, Brent grunted and she could feel his cock jerking inside that hot twat, as an ocean of slimy, boiling sperm spurted from his prick, drowning her cunt in a sea of jism.
Sally collapsed on top of his body, his softening cock still lodged inside her, vagina. Their mouths met in a hot, wet kiss, their saliva-covered tongues mingling inside each other's mouth.
Suddenly, Sally felt his hands on her thighs. Grasping her, he pulled her body forward until she was squatting over his mouth. She felt his fingers pulling apart the thick swollen outer lips of her receptacle, then his tongue was in side, snaking across the come-soaked flesh of her prick squeezer.
Sal watched as great gobs of his sperm fell from her vagina into his open mouth. His tongue began probing deep inside her hole, sucking out all the warm, creamy juices he could find.
As he lapped her twat, Brent induced Sally's excitement to fever pitch again and she found herself grinding her smelly, slimy gash all over his face, then pressing down to bury his nose inside her bole.
Reaching behind her, she found his cock standing tall, as hard as a rock. Turnabout being fair play, Sally kept her cunt pressed against his face while she quickly moved into the sixty-nine and engulfed the massive length of his cock inside the warm, wet depths of her mouth.
She sucked his cock, trying to draw out another load of his hot, thick, sticky sperm. This time, she decided, I want it in my mouth and want to swallow it. Simultaneous with sucking him, she squeezed his balls, sadistically digging her nails into the sensitive sac.
Brent's ass was gyrating on the bed as Sally aroused his passion to fever pitch. His tongue snaked wildly inside the sticky flesh of her cunt. Sally groaned hoarsely as she drove the rigid flesh of her clitoris into his sensuous mouth. Sal quivered as tiny spasms raced through her stomach. The faster Brent licked and sucked at her throbbing clit, the faster she drew his raging cock in and out of her mouth.
Precipitately, her, body exploded in a fiery orgasm that sent his and her hot, creamy come pouring from her drenched cunt into his thirsty mouth.
With a wild cry, Sally impaled herself on his entire cock, to the hilt in her mouth, while at the same time, savagely grasping his nuts again.
His cock throbbed wildly inside her mouth and then she felt and tasted the come as it spewed from his pisshole down her throat. She sucked feverishly, trying to get every last drop of jism. When the torrent ended, she released his balls and, reversing her position, fell on the bed beside him, resting her head on his shoulders.
After a few minutes, Sally got an irresistible urge to squat and piss all over him, but not knowing how he would react, she managed to control herself. Instead, she got up from the bed and went into the bathroom to relieve her bladder. Swabbing her pussy dry, she walked into the kitchen where she fixed a pitcher of martinis.
When she returned to the bedroom with the pitcher and two glasses, she found him sitting on the side of the bed tying his shoelaces.
"Leaving so soon?" she asked.
On seeing the refreshments he said, "Well, maybe I'll stay a few more minutes."
Taking his hand, she led him into the den where she turned on the stereo while he poured drinks.
Sitting beside her on the couch, Brent turned to her. "Sally, I know this is a foolish question, but, out of curiosity, why did you decide to go into this business?"
Sally, a glint of amusement in her eyes, said, "Oh, I don't know. After working as a secretary where I had to fuck the boss, I just decided that I could make a lot more money and do a lot more fucking this way than being a secretary. Besides, this way I get to sleep late in the morning."
Brent was thoughtful for a moment, then, reaching into his wallet he handed Sally a hundred-dollar bill – plus a business card.
Pointing to the card, he said, "This is a friend of mine. If you would like to make a little more money and perhaps win a little fame, give him a call. Tell him that I sent you and I'm sure he'll be interested."
Brent gave Sally one last kiss and finished his drink.
"Goodnight, baby," he said, and was on his way. Sally walked, back to the couch and poured herself another drink. She looked at the card: Winning Films, John Tyler amp; Associates, 984-8320.
Sally could imagine what type of films they were, but the thought set her cunt to tingling – which decided her to call them first thing in the morning.
As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was asleep, with visions of stardom running through her mind.
She could see herself lying on a bed, her thighs opened wide. Suddenly, the director yelled, "Action!" and there was a huge monster prick plunging deep into her openly juicy cunt.
What a dream!
CHAPTER FIVE
That morning, Sally dialed the filmmaker's number.
"Winning Films," a female answered.
"Yes," Sally said, "I would like to talk to Mr. Tyler, please."
"One moment. Who shall I say is calling?"
"Sally Nichols. I'm a friend of Brent Porter."
After a pause, a man said, "Miss Nichols, I'm John Tyler. What can I do for you?"
"To be perfectly honest," Sally said, "I don't really know. I saw Brent Porter last night and he gave me your card and said that I should call you."
"Do you know what type of films we make here, Miss Nichols?"
"No, but I can imagine, and it sounds delightful."
Sally thought she heard a quickening in Mr. Tyler's breathing.
"Miss Nichols, could you be down here at, say, one o'clock?"
"I think so," Sally answered. "Is there anything special that I should or shouldn't wear?"
"No. Just be in my office at one. I'll see you then. Goodbye."
At one o'clock, Sally was at Mr. Tyler's office.
The intercom on the secretary's desk buzzed.
"Miss Wanton, please send Miss Nichols in."
She walked into Tyler's office.
Sitting behind a large desk was a fairly good-looking man in his early forties.
Walking over to a chair, Sally sat and waited.
"Miss Nichols, tell me, what type of motion pictures do you think we make here?"
Sally looked at him and smiled.
"Fuck films," she said, smilingly.
Tyler, too, grinned. "And suppose that were true. How would you feel about acting in them?"
"Let me put it this way, Mr. Tyler. There is nothing about sex that I don't enjoy and there is nothing that I love more than money."
Tyler studied her for a moment, then wrote an address on a piece of paper.
"A crew will be shooting at that address in little more than an hour. If you want the job, consider yourself hired. You will be paid five hundred dollars per film, whether it takes one hour to shoot or ten. How does that sound to you?"
"Mr. Tyler," Sally said, "I don't know how to thank you."
"We'll talk about that later," he said lecherously. "Right now I just want you to do a good job."
The address Tyler had given her turned out to be an old brownstone in Greenwich Village.
Up three flights of stairs, Sal came to apartment six.
The door was opened by a tall, rugged-looking guy in his twenties.
"Yes," he said, "what can I do for you?"
"I'm Sally Nichols. Mr. Tyler sent me over."
"Oh, come in. I'm Bob Simpson."
Motioning to two muscular men near some movie cameras, Bob said, "Sally, this is Jim Danning and Phil Spencer. They'll, be with you in the picture."
Sally said, "Nice to meet you."
As she assayed them, she knew she wouldn't mind this one bit. Both were tall with ruddy complexions. Already she could feel her cunt juicing at the thought of having both of them in bed at the same time.