She wants to become a famous pornstar, she wants to be the erotic fantasy of thousands of people and she’s willing to do anything to achieve her goals. However, she soon realizes that she needs help and when it comes in the form of a much older, unattractive and yet well endowed man, who claims that he can mold her into a star, she accepts it against all reason, embarking herself on a quest to transform into a (erotic) dream version of herself.
Can dreams coexist with reality though?
Piercings, smoking, old dirty man/young girl, cmnf, exhibitionism, tattoos.
This story is not meant to give a realistic or accurate portrait of the internal workings of the sex industry. The protagonist is 18.
My first language is not English, so please let me know if I did unspeakable things to Grammar.
He made me
3. Call me by my name
It’s curious how the morning after some event the brain seems to shift into reverse when it comes to accepting the news. Whereas the previous day, after a couple of hours, the new piercings felt completely normal, now it dawned on me how weird it was to have a steel barbell through my tongue. So my first few minutes awake in my bed were spent playing with it and a little with my smiley. Yeah, they were definitely going to help me grow an oral fixation!
Speaking of which, I rolled over and reached for the packet of cigarettes on my nightstand. Smoking, I knew, is all about habit: once you start associating certain actions or times of the day to a cigarette, it quickly becomes automatic and feels necessary for your normal functioning. It’s also about ritual: opening the foil a little, shacking the packet, letting a cig slide and put it in my awaiting lips, just besides my labret piercing, then make the flame dance on its tip and finally take a deep inhale, filling up your lungs with pleasure.
I decided that, as soon as my clit was healed enough, I would perform some light masturbation whenever I smoked naked, for example in bed, to help my brain associate putting stuff in my mouth to arousal. When my stomach decided that it was time to get up and have breakfast, I also resolved to stay naked in Mikey’s house all the time. He deserved the show.
I found him in the kitchen, topless in a pair of embarrassingly sad checkered pajama shorts, checking something on his phone while sitting on a chair, waiting for the coffee to brew.
“Good morning sexy!” he greeted me, only to add “What?” in response to my amused face.
“Oh, nothing, I was just thinking how sexy you are with your pajama and hairy titties,” I joked in a good mood, straddling him and passing my hands through his hairy chest.
“Oh, yeah? How about this?” he replied, grabbing my buttocks firmly, almost as if he wanted to check their firmness and pressing my crotch on his bulging penis.
“Mmmmh…” I moaned.
“Yeah, that’s going to be your breakfast as soon as this juicy mouth of yours can go back to work.”
“I can’t wait!” I replied with a big smile, giving him a peck.
I really did. The mere idea that I would start every morning by blowing an old pervert made my pussy wet, whereas the wonderful smell of the eggs and bacon that Mikey had prepared, made my stomach growl like a tiger!
After our meal, while I was sipping my coffee, a fancy brand apparently, Mikey extracted a cigarette and I obediently leaned forward to let him put it in my mouth and light it.
“Always with coffee,” he instructed satisfied with my zeal.
“So, how are you feeling?”
“Excited! What’s on my schedule today?”
“From now on you are going to learn how to control the human body, first yours, then others’.”
The answer to my perplexed face was given me half an hour later, in the form of a very beautiful ex-stripper in her forties, lean, fit, with long curly strawberry-blonde hair and a ton of freckles, who welcomed us in a deserted dance studio, between a couple of shiny steel poles.
“Hey Mikey!” she greeted my mentor, with a big smile.
“Good morning, Dana dear” he replied with an unusual warmth.
Wait, were they–
“This is my new investment, Jeri.”
Ok, there definitely was, or at least had been, something going on between the two of them, judging by the sudden chill that Dana emanated in my direction.
“And this, Jeri, is your new dance instructor, my old friend Dana.”
A gulp resonated in the big, empty room. A part of me expected her to be, against all factual clues, a cold Russian bitch. I was victim of the TV stereotypes: although her jealousy for me made her definitely intimidating, as soon as Mikey left, she proved to be patient and down to earth, not to mention very sensual.
From that day on, I would see her every day to learn all kinds of erotic dancing. Mikey wanted me to train two hours a day in two sessions, a crash course ankara grup escort that was quite a grueling endeavor, but it turned out that I had a certain talent for this, even though I was just covering the basics. More importantly, it was fun! Not so much the lap dance, but swirling around the pole made me feel like I was flying. That instilled in me the desire of learning also some aerial dance one day.
Those were days of intense training in many other respects. Mikey had procured me a lot of tacky stripper shoes and I practiced walking on their impossibly high heels by keeping them on all the time in the house and going on walks outside. I loved how slutty I looked in them and all the attention they attracted. I had leopard platforms, a pair with neon green transparent heels, glossy latex boots and platforms with a big glittered green dollar sign. Between that and seeing myself in the mirror of the gym dancing around the pole, I finally started to look like my role models and that was incredibly exciting, no matter how my feet or my muscles hurt at the end of the day.
Anyhow, I didn’t have much to do the rest of the time Not being able to use the pool was terrible. Such a temptation! So I mostly binged TV shows, read a little and smoked while masturbating. I wanted to be a sexy smoker, so I started watching videos on how to do it properly: when I finally mastered the French inhale I felt the hottest woman on Earth.
Most days Mikey was out all day “taking care of business”, so I felt a little lonely. Not that I was under house arrest or anything: the sad truth was that he was my only friend in the city. Making connections with other human beings has never been my strong suit: even though I had met a lot of different people during my stay in California, I never manged to make friends.
It wasn’t desperation what had drawn me closer to him, though. I genuinely enjoyed his company and our quickly established routines. Every day he would come home with a bag of fresh groceries and cook for me, while I helped him. We usually talked about everyday stuff, but I always tried to push him into revealing something more about him.
It turned out that he had led quite a life. He had been a marine, for example! Then he had worked in a bar in Honolulu, where he had learned how to cook. After he had gotten his heart broken, he had moved to Las Vegas. Those had been dark times for him: he had struggled with a gambling addiction and he had changed a bunch of jobs, all gravitating around the sex industry. There he discovered that his set of people skills were exactly what one needed to be a good agent for pornographic actors. One day he had won a lot of money and he had even founded his own production company, only to declare bankruptcy a couple of years later, due to his addiction mostly. After that, he had decided to just be an agent and landed in L.A., where he finally managed to quit gambling.
“Sometimes I think I still do, though. I mean, what are you, if not a bet? It’s like race horses with actresses’ careers.”
I liked it when he revealed this reflective side of his, this depth that he so strenuously fought to hide. Was he following his own advice to me? Keep the personal and the work stuff separated? Anyway, I felt flattered and proud that he had bet on me.
It wasn’t all perfect, though. Often he would go out at night and he never invited me. I was too shy to ask him to come with and I kept reminding myself that I was his guest and he had the right to hang out with his friends by himself. Besides, he was twice my age, so maybe he wanted company that could relate to his. However, I couldn’t help taking it personally. Did I bore him? Was he embarrassed to be seen in public with me? He never showed that, but we had always been in the presence of strangers.
He usually came back home very late in the night, sometimes half, sometimes utterly drunk, making therefore a lot of noise. So, one time he accidentally woke me up and I found him trying in vain to enter his bedroom pushing the door instead of pulling. It was so adorable that I helped him.
“Thanks, doll,” he mumbled, as I lead him to his bed, since he was barely able to walk. “Hey, why don’t you stay? I want you.”
I was sure that he was seeing women those nights and that he was in general fairly successful with them, but he had never brought any home. He wanted me. This revelation warmed my heart and was the key to believing that our friendship was real.
“Yes, Mikey, I’ll take care of ya!” I replied, straddling his belly.
“Did you have fun?” I whispered, as I kissed his short neck.
“I was entertained,” was his cryptic answer before I kissed him on the mouth, savoring his now familiar cigar aftertaste.
My hand, in the meantime, crawled towards his thighs, where it met his big dick. From there, I followed the length of his shaft and began to fondle his balls, as his deep voice invaded my mouth and resonated in my chest as he moaned.
We gümüşhane escort made out like that for a while and when I felt that the teasing was making him crazy, even though he was definitely not in the condition to force me to fuck him, I left his full lips and slid on his round paunch until mine met the dick that had been ravaging me every day.
Perhaps there was a bit of revenge in this choice, but I took my time with it, licking it and tingling his pee-hole with the little ball at the end of my tongue piercing, but never actually sucking it. He moaned desperately, but I was relentless: I deliberated to start blowing him only when my actions alone had made me wet enough for sex. It didn’t take long, after all!
When it came time to slurp his shaft, I tried to make as much noise as possible, since he wasn’t even able to rest on his elbows and look at me.
“Fuck me Jeri!” he kept imploring me.
“Not yet,” I kept replying him with his glans on my lips.
Only when it was I the one who couldn’t resist the teasing anymore, I climbed back onto him, put a condom on his penis to keep my clit piercing safe and pushed his member in my drooling pussy. With paced, long thrusts designed not to upset his possibly queasy stomach, I slowly built up an orgasm, my head reclined backwards in ecstasy, my hands playing with my nipple studs, until he erupted in me and I came with my face buried in his neck.
After that, I smoked an after-sex cigarette as I was trying to get myself used to and I fell sound asleep. Well, not right away: first I had to learn the trick to cope with his sweaty, warm body against which I kept rolling because of the depression it made on the mattress: putting the sheet on his side, but leaving the rest of him uncovered, lest he pushed it away in his sleep. This way I also could use him as a pillow.
From then on, every time he went out with friends, I slept in his bed, so that when he came home he could wake me up, usually gently slapping my cheeks with his hard cock, have fun with my teenage body and end the night with a literal bang.
Whenever he stayed home, instead, we usually watched some movie after dinner in his cinema room. We both liked fun adventures: we watched all the Indiana Jones movies, for example. The night usually ended with me fucking him: sometimes I just went on my knees as the credits of the film rolled and suck him off, sometimes he fucked me on the first surface available. A couple of times he took me in his surprisingly strong arms and carried me in his bedroom. Even if it had all started as a sort of unspoken quid pro quo, I grew to enjoy sex with him very much.
My stage name, my new me really, was conceived one of those nights. We were scrolling the list of movies that Mikey had available when I stopped him:
“Wait, let’s watch 20000 leagues under the sea!” I exclaimed.
“Sure… Why so excited?” he inquired.
“I used to love Jules Verne’s books when I was little,” I explained, “even if I only ever read some abridged versions for kids.”
Mikey stared at me with a blank face for a few seconds.
“What, all this lard is finally giving you a stroke?” I joked maliciously, half hoping for a couple of spanks.
That snapped him out of it, but he still seemed not to have registered my words.
“I’ve got it!” he yelled. “I finally know your perfect alter ego in porn!”
“You do?” I gasped.
“You are brave and yet you have a carefree approach to life, you are easy but you have a lot of fight in you if someone oversteps. Submission for you is a game, but you play it well. Sex with you is not just about lust, but also fun. You are a pirate at heart, you love the sea, fishing and swimming. You are sensual, but not intimidatingly so, because you are also adventure, you are what secretly men, who never really grow up, want. You, my dear, are going to call yourself Jules Sperme, because it’s outrageous, fun and fucking appropriate!” he said emphatically.
I didn’t have time to react, because he had a final piece of information about my future:
“And the image of you is going to be seared in the memory of everyone who is ever going to watch you, because you’ll have a huge tattoo on your ass of the giant squid that wanted to swallow captain Nemo, its tentacles spreading and wriggling on your buttocks, lower back and thighs, irradiating from the mouth of the creature in exact correspondence of your asshole. I picture a script on your lower back saying: ‘Feed the beast!’ Imagine anal scenes with something like that!”
He was crazy. His idea was crazy. Yet the idea of the monster of the abyss emerging between my ass cheeks demanding to be fed with cocks in an anal gangbang made me immediately wet. That was it. It was perfect. I needed to be just like he had described me, adventurous and brave. It was time to stop worrying so much about everything, be free like a pirate and enjoy life.
“And I want to have blue and green hair…” I murmured, finally halkalı escort able to see the future by myself.
“Yes and your name is going to be written on the back of your thighs!”
“But not straight away, only after I begin shooting porn…” I went on, feeling more confident. “The tattoo… Yes! How could I possibly afford such a big tattoo? I was dating a tattoo artist, he’s gotta be the one who leaks my sex tape on video!”
“Perhaps I can convince Patrick to play him…” Mikey mused.
We were finishing each other’s thoughts! We were on a roll!
“Wait, there could be more videos, like when he makes the tattoo!” I added.
“Yeah, you could blow him every once in a while as he paints it! A sort of payment!”
“And I could hint what a big of an anal whore I am!”
“Too big, you cheat on him!”
“No, I’m the good guy, he cheats on me!” I correct him. “I catch him with his hands on the glorious rack of a completely naked client, but he’s naked too. I’m a slut, I liked to flirt, but always refrained and what good did it do for me? Nah ah, from now on nothing serious anymore, now I’m going to have fun!”
“And the first videos I put on the internet are the making of my tattoo!”
“This way they attract more attention and followers before you release more standard stuff. Also, it’s better for production,” he approved.
I had so many ideas now, cam shows with tentacle dildos, where my hungry and unsatisfied anus attacks my pussy because no one is fucking it, a video where I go out in clothes that reveal my tattoo and I can film the disconcerted reactions of passersby, me at the beach…
My thoughts were soon drowned by the deep, unrelenting echo of my heartbeat in my ears. There was no going back. A tattoo of that size could not be erased and for sure it was hard to cover with either clothes or another tattoo, not to mention the fact that my asshole would have ink on it anyway, so that the cover would be lewd anyway.
“Hey, don’t let your head spin out of control!” Mikey called, taking my chin in his hand and forcing me to stare him in the eye. “I know it’s scary, but you can’t fear make this opportunity slip through your fingers. Luckily for you, I have a solution to cold feet.”
“Yeah, what do I have to do?” I asked eagerly.
“You know how, when you are aroused, the craziest things seem to be perfectly reasonable?”
“Well, we’ll have to keep you aroused until the tattoo si complete. No orgasms, constant edging, are you up for that?”
“Yes, whatever it’s necessary,” I immediately answered.
He then got up and came back with a vibrating egg that could be activated remotely, while I was already fingering myself as I waited.
“Whenever you feel that you are making a mistake, I want you to activate this.”
I nodded and he showed me how to use it.
While it did its job, we continued bouncing ideas.
“Should we make the sex tape before or after the tattoo?” I asked, with a gasp, as I raised the setting. It was definitely working. Now the idea of the tentacles coming out of my ass was again exciting, as it should’ve been.
“Yeah, I don’t know… On one hand it would certainly catch everyone’s attention in the crowded field of amateur porn, on the other a big tattoo is done in many sessions and takes time to heal,” Mikey mused.
“Are we in a hurry?” I moaned, realizing that I was getting dangerously close to orgasm and I exaggerated with the power.
“No, sorry, it’s the impatient gambler in me speaking… It’s just– Aren’t you anxious to start?”
I was. Spending my days dawdling and killing time was relaxing at first, but I was almost fed up.
“What if I don’t do it in many sessions, but only a few?” I mumbled shyly.
Mikey raised his eyebrows.
“Tattoos are painful, girlie.”
“I’m going to prove to you how much I care about this,” I replied resolutely, turning off the egg before it was too late.
He looked me in the eye for a few impossibly long seconds, then he smiled and caressed my cheek and chin, drawing me closer to him, ready for a kiss:
“Alright, Jules, now suck me while I call Patrick,” he whispered with a sneer.
“You are a dick!” I retorted, my hands already at work on his zipper, contradicting my words.
“No, that is a dick!” he chuckled. I was already obediently on my knees, his cock an erect idol in front of my hypnotized eyes.
“Hey, man, I’ve got work for you!” said Mike to the phone.
My right hand on the base of his rod, the other on my labia, making squelching lewd noises.
“Yes, you get to fuck her!”
My mouth open, wrapping a side of his shaft and going up and down.
“Actually, this time we may need you to fuck her. Would you be up to be filmed while doing the deed and getting sucked? It’s not anything official, it’s going to be published as amateur.”
My heart was beating in my throat again, not out of fear for my decision, but out of worry that Patrick might not agree to do his part. I needed a bigger distraction, so I crawled seductively to the small table beside my chair and fetched my smokes. Then I came back, earning a light spank on my ass by Mikey, who was still listening to Patrick’s answer.