her back, change her mind, he had revealed that for weeks he had kept some butter in the fridge in his office for that very purpose.
The cameraman adjusts his focus.
“Filming.”
Steve inserts one finger inside her to spread the oil around. With his other hand, he parts her arse cheeks as wide as he can and places his hard cock against the puckered opening. Initial pressure, the sphincter muscles resist and he makes no headway. He grabs his stem and holding it in a tight vice manually begins to spear her anus. The head moves an inch or so past the outer ring. It feels like constipation backwards. She clenches her teeth. The lubrication takes effect and with one swift move the head inserts itself. Katherine holds her breath.
“Yeah, nice and slow,” the cameraman, or is it the director, says.
She’s tearing, she knows it. Her opening is being sundered. Literally split apart. She’s often fingered herself there, but this is like a knife, a pole, a gun.
Steve thrusts his hips and breaks through. The cock savagely tears in and impales her to the hilt.
Katherine screams.
This is worse than anything ever. She wants to faint, die, make it all go away. Her whole soul seems focused on the opening to her arse where the long, thin cock is planted. Steve ceases all movement. She senses the cock still growing inside her, her inner walls being forcibly pushed further and further back.
“Focus closer. Now. Now.”
The man initiates a steady movement, a quick coming and going inside her guts. To her utter shame, Katherine feels an odious sort of pleasure, excitement radiating out from her forced aperture down to her cunt, up through her stomach. Her heart falters. The movements increase. Every reverse movement of the cock a few inches out of her hole pulls the inner flesh out, the tight, textured pink private flesh sticking like glue to the dark thrusting cock, and then back in again. Secretions accelerate, coat the moving penis trunk in a ring of white thin cream.
“Hey, she looks good,” another male voice explains. The others have come in from the pool to watch the action.
“Yes,” says Steve, between regular thrusts. “She has the perfect butt for anal. Great fit, man.”
The other man is in front of the kneeling Katherine. She looks up. He’s growing erect, his pole rising steadily as he keeps on watching the Cuban digging into her depths in a metronomic movement, and her head shaking forward with every thrust.
“What about a DP, man?” the voyeur asks the director.
“Good idea,” he says.
Katherine’s mouth is so dry. She gasps for breath.
“Look, she’s all flushed,” the other man says.
Katherine’s face and chest have gone a deep shade of pink. Like a stain racing across her body, as the orgasm approaches, stronger than anything before. The cock in her arse still keeps on moving deeper, seemingly labouring her intestines, she wills it further, her inner muscles gripping the hard tool, sucking it in a vampiric embrace.
Steve slows down, pulls her back slightly, still carefully lodged in her rectum and the other porno actor slides down on his back and moves under her raised upper body. She can feel her sweat raining down over him. He slithers into position and positions his cock under her sex lips. She feels the wetness shamefully dripping from her cunt onto his glans and he inserts himself.
“Jesus, Jesus, Jeezus…”
Both men are now fucking her.
They move in unison. As one thrusts, another retreats to the edge of his respective opening. Fire races through her. Her mind is on fever. They now coordinate their movements and thrust inside her together. The cocks rub against her inner walls, teasing each other through the thin layer of skin separating them. She imagines the vision of her double penetration on the cinema screen: the two inhumanly large cocks tearing her pale, white skin in two, digging ever deeper holes, the inhumanly dilated ringed anus as one pulls back, the gaping vaginal gash open like a flower of desire as the foreign object buries itself inside her everaccommodating cunt. Her husband and her lover watching, both masturbating away. This is me, this is me, she says.
“I’m running out of film,” the cameraman says. “We need the come shot.”
The two men withdraw violently, wrenching her guts, take hold of their cocks and pump away manually at speed and come. Over her. Her face. Her rump.
“Lick it,” the director says.
Her tongue moves across her lips, tastes the salty emissions, it sticks in the back of her throat when she tries to swallow.
“Good show, Eddie,” Steve says, smearing his come all over her smooth back side. “We should do it again, in private, you know. I can teach you some more tricks.”
The other women quickly expedite another sequence where they gluttonously eat each other out for the length of another roll of film. Katherine rests. Sips several cans of beer. It grows dark outside. All the actors are growing tired.
“I’ve got another few minutes of film left,” the cameraman points out. “Waste not, want not. Anything we haven’t got in the can yet?”
Steve says to the director: “Do you want to try and do something different? I’ve only seen it done once, you know, by Cameo, a double cuntal.”
“That would be good,” the young man says. “Who?”
“I’ll do it,” Katherine says.
The positioning is awkward. It’s not painful; since the black guy in Vegas, she knows she can take any size. And by now, neither of them can stay fully hard. They clumsily do the act. One of the cocks keeps slipping out. Neither man feels the friction of the two pricks against each other inside her very stimulating. Ten minutes is all it takes. They might salvage two minutes in the edit.
Cut.
That night, she writes again in the yellow legal pad.
“My lover is a pornographer. My lover writes vile stories in which he degrades me. I am always amazed by how white his eyes are, peering into mine as he moves inside my body. He has dark curls on his chest and whispers dirty words in my ear when we are engaged in the act of love, making wild promises he will never keep of all the cities and places he will one day take me to. My wild lover whose hair never stands still says he no longer wants to share me. He betrays our original agreement and scares me deeply. He is unpredictable. I never know what he will say or do next. To me. To my ignorant husband.
“When my lover loves me he positions me on the bed or, more often because of the unfortunate nature of our clandestine encounters, on the floor. He cups his hands under my bum, and raises it slightly while his mouth approaches me. He parts my lower lips with gentle, loving care, brushing my moist curls back and kisses the outer folds of my sex. He takes his time. He does not hurry. He teases my senses like an expert. He knows every inch of my body and trips the light fandango all over. He divides my sex into dozens of distinct areas and knows the right word and touch for each. Mons. Outer labia. Inner labia. Folds. Bud. Hood. Walls. Vagina. Cervix. Spots all the way from A to G. Where did he learn all this? Watching porno movies, he says. His tongue moves inside me and he takes my clitoris, the small bud, in between his lips. He chews, he licks, he sucks and bites it and the inside of my cunt. He tastes my moist intimate secretions and never protests. I know I smell down there. He sniffs me and smiles. He perspires and I drink in his sharp scent. Until I cry enough, I want you inside me now. And his thick, dark cock plunges in to me. Chews my ear lobe. Licks the acrid perspiration from my arm pits. He has no shame.
“As he fucks me, my lover inserts a slow finger up my arse, beyond the tiny ridge of flesh that just hangs there like a super-fluous growth. We copulate, his finger pushes, slides, swivels, rotates inside me and a warm feeling invades my stomach and I almost pee all over him as we move together convulsively and my head bangs against the bed rest or the office wall.
“After love, we talk. And he frightens me again. We share sate sticks and Tesco dips in the darkness. Once he brings sushi pieces.
“We fuck again. Like animals. Over and again. He never tires. We are sore. I never want to go home.
“The last time I saw my lover, it was pouring and my hair was flat and he held an oversize umbrella to protect
