Phoenix Rising

by Anais Ninja

  “So, you’re retired?” I asked him.

  “Semi-retired.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a producer,” Jack said. “Movies. I own a production company in LA, Jalapeno Films.”

  “What kind of movies?” I asked him.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “Adult movies,” Jack said, sounding slightly embarrassed. “You know, porno.”

  “Wow, cool,” I said. “I made a movie once.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, last year,” I replied. “But the guy got busted.”

  “You made a...?” I thought Jack was going to choke on his bread.

  “It was supposed to be called ‘Punk Rock Hookers’.”

  “No shit,” Jack said, looking at me with a different expression. “What was it, soft core?”

  “Soft core?”

  “You know, simulated sex, no hard cocks, no close-up beaver shots.”

  “No, this was real,” I said. “Me and two boys. They played in a punk band and I was sort of a groupie type. That’s why it was called ‘Punk Rock Hookers’.” I finished my soup and took a sip of wine.

  “And this guy who made it, he got busted?”

  “Yeah, Cecil his name was,” I said. “He tried to edit it at school. He was a grad student.”

  “Dumbass,” Jack muttered. “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “No wonder,” he said. “When was this?”

  “Last year.”

  “You’re only fifteen?”

  “Yes,” I said. “How old did you think I was?”

  “I don’t know, seventeen? Eighteen?”

  “Nope,” I said. “How old are you?”

  “Fifty-nine,” Jack said.

  “Married?”

  “Divorced.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Yeah, it was pretty tough,” he replied. “She caught me in my office with one of my actresses, Amber O’Toole. Not her real name, of course.”

  “That’s a shame,” I said.

  “Eh, what can you do, right?”

  “So, do you have any of your movies here?,” I said. “I’d love to see one.”

  “You’re a bit young for that sort of thing, don’t you think?”

  “I did star in one,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t feel right...”

  “Please?” I said, giving him my best pleading look, eyes wide, lips set in a pout, head tilted just so.

  “Okay, fine,” he relented. “Let me clean up the dishes first.”

  “I’ll do that,” I said. “You can set up the projector or whatever it is.”

  “Video,” Jack said, getting up from the table. “It’s all going on video these days. Used to be we’d run through forty, fifty thousand dollars worth of film stock, and spend just as much at the lab, getting it developed, color corrected, printed. Now we spend a fraction of that amount on tape.” He left the kitchen, heading for the living room. I heard the sound of a television being turned on, the high-pitched whine of the picture tube warming up, white noise as he tuned to an unused channel, the clunk of a video cassette slipping into the player. I washed our lunch dishes and joined him on the couch, handing him his wine glass.

  “Ready?” Jack said.

  “Yes.”

  “Here we go,” he said, pressing a button on a small device that was connected to the videotape recorder by a long black cable. The tape deck was just like the one Cecil had bought, with the word “U-MATIC” in silver letters on the door that covered the tape slot. The player whirred to life, and multi-colored bars appeared on the screen, a high- pitched tone coming from the two speakers that flanked the large-screen television. Jack hit another button and fast-forwarded to the beginning of the movie.

  “What are those things on the bottom of the picture?” I asked him. There was a series of numbers superimposed on the bottom of the screen, separated by colons, the last couple of digits moving so fast that I couldn’t read them.

  “Time code,” Jack replied. “Hours, minutes, seconds, frames. It’s how we catalog the footage and mark the edit points.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Here it comes,” he said, pressing the play button on the remote. There was a shot of a woman on a couch, reading a paperback, with the words “HORNY HOUSEWIFE XII” splashed across the screen in big yellow letters. The woman was gorgeous, with long platinum blonde hair, and enormous breasts that spilled out of her skimpy dress. “Here’s my name,” Jack said, as the title changed to “PRODUCED BY JACK HOFF”.

  “That’s your name?,” I asked him. “Jack Hoff?”

  “It’s really ‘Hoffman’,” he said. “I changed it.”

  “That’s really funny.” His name faded out, replaced by “STARRING AMBER O’TOOLE”. “So that’s her?” I asked him.

  “Yep.”

  “She’s beautiful. Why isn’t she a star?”

  “She is a star, Anne.”

  “You know what I mean,” I said.

  “Why isn’t she starring in a non-adult film?” Jack said. “Keep watching and you’ll find out.” The credits ended and the wah-wah guitar soundtrack faded into the background. There was the soft chime of a doorbell and Amber put her book down to answer the door. A tall young man in a grimy pair of overalls stood in the doorway, holding a toolbox.

  “Did you call for a plumber, ma’am?” he said, sounding like he was reading his lines from a card offstage.

  “Yeah, come on in,” she replied. As soon as she opened her mouth and spoke, I knew why she’d never do anything but porn movies. Amber had a squeaky, high-pitched voice and a thick Boston accent, pronouncing the word “on” like “ahwn”, and adding an “W” to the end of “Yeah, stretching it into two syllables: “Ye-ahw”.

  “I see what you mean,” I said to Jack.

  “It’s not like she didn’t try,” he said. “She had a voice coach and everything.”

  We sat and sipped our wine as the movie rolled on, watching as the man, played by Billy Long, followed Amber into the kitchen, stuck his head under the sink, taking no longer than ten seconds to fix her pipes. Then it was her turn to fix his pipe. She wasted no time in stripping off his uniform and sinking to her knees, taking his huge cock in her mouth, moaning as she hungrily sucked his member. He reached down and freed her ample bosom from her dress, kneading her tits with his hands.

  Soon she was draped across the kitchen table while he pounded her snatch, making her breasts jiggle like Jello brand gelatin dessert. I’d seen a few porn movies before, grainy 8mm films that Cecil had shown me, as well as some better produced 16mm films that Bradley had brought home to watch with Helen and me in their bedroom. They all had a certain sameness to them, bad acting, cheesy dialogue, and the sex, which was the whole point of these movies, had a mechanical quality to it, as if the whole film could be reduced to a close-up of a cock inside a cunt and it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

  Still, seeing Amber get pumped by Billy on the table had an effect on me, and I crossed and re-crossed my legs as I sat on the couch next to Jack, unable to keep from pressing my thighs together, feeling a hunger growing in my belly. I could tell that Jack was sort of getting off, too, not so much from the movie, which he no doubt had seen many times, from shooting to editing, but from the fact that he was watching this in the presence of a teenage girl, one who might have seemed innocent on the surface but had actually made a film like this once. He kept glancing over at me as I watched the movie, his arm draped across the back of the couch, barely inches from my shoulder.

  I reached back and took Jack’s hand, placing it on my shoulder and moving closer to him. He gently caressed my arm, moving his hand up to the cap sleeve of my peasant blouse and tugging it off of my shoulder, his fingers lightly grazing my neck. I looked over at him and smiled, placing my hand on his bare thigh, running my fingers under the hem of his short terrycloth robe.

  “Yo
u like the movie?” he asked me.

  “Yes, I do,” I said, slowly moving my hand higher until I felt the tip of his semi-erect penis laying along his hairy thigh. My fingers danced over his shaft and he began to stiffen. Jack reached down and untied his robe.

  “Damn, you’re huge,” I said, seeing his cock for the first time. And he wasn’t even fully erect. Jack’s cock was long, thick, circumcised, with a fat mushroom head.

  “That’s how I broke into this business,” Jack said.

  “You starred in these movies?”

  “Years ago,” he replied. “Got out of the Navy in ‘46, couldn’t find work. I answered an ad in the paper and that was that. Would you like to see one of my old movies?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Be back in a second,” he said, getting up from the couch and rummaging through a hall closet. He brought out a box of tapes, stopping Amber and Billy in mid-thrust and ejecting their tape. He slotted a new one, and hit the play button.

  “I had some of my old loops transferred to tape,” Jack said, shrugging off his robe. His huge cock bobbed in front of him as he walked back to the couch and sat down. I took off my top and slipped out of my skirt, sitting next to him again and stroking his thick, veiny shaft while I watched the film begin. Jack put his arm around me again, his hand resting on my breast.

  They were old films, grainy black and white, with streaks and spots that zipped up the screen. No credits, no soundtrack, no dialog, just a young Jack and a woman with a bobbed hairdo on a bed. Her breasts looked pointy, as if they’d been molded in that shape by one of those old bullet-shaped bras. Jack played with her breasts for a minute and then she leaned into his crotch and began to suck his cock.

  “Margaret Del Rio,” Jack said, a distant look on his face. “Used to date President Reagan, she did.”

  “Wow,” I said, trying to picture her with the pompadoured ex-actor. Her bobbed head bobbed up and down in Jack’s lap, and then he pushed her on her back and mounted her. It was hard to see what was going on, and the camera didn’t zoom in for a genital close-up, but I could see she was having a good time as Jack pounded her hairy snatch. At least she was acting like she was enjoying it.

  “Damn, she was a vixen,” Jack said wistfully. “She must be seventy years old now.” I gently squeezed his cock and leaned over, kissing the tip of his fat glans, keeping one eye on the television screen. Jack gasped as I tried to engulf his penis with my mouth, caressing my back as I began to suck him.

  I began to moan like Amber had, just because I thought it was something Jack expected. He must have liked it, because I could feel him start to twitch in my mouth, his big hairy balls contracting in my hand as I cupped and fondled them. His breathing grew heavier and I heard him groan as he began to erupt in my mouth. Expecting a huge amount of semen, I clamped my lips around his throbbing organ, swirling my tongue over his fat cockhead, but after a couple of hot spurts of cum there were just a few dribbles. He began to soften almost immediately, and after I cleaned him with my tongue I released him from my lips, letting his softening penis fall to his thigh.

  “I wish I was forty years younger,” Jack said, holding me close.

  “I like you the way you are,” I said, running my hand over the grey hair that covered his chest.

  “Sweet of you to say that,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “You like older men?”

  “Older, younger, I don’t care,” I said. “You were handsome back then, and I think you’re really handsome now.” I watched his younger self on the video, pounding Miss Del Rio from behind, pulling out of her pussy so she could suck him to completion, jerking his cock until he spurted his seed all over her pointy knockers.

  “Would you like to go upstairs?” Jack said.

  “I’d really like that.” He stood up and led me by the hand, up to his bedroom.

  “Let me look at you, sweetheart,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. I stood before him, letting him touch me, his hands roaming over my breasts and belly, my bottom and thighs, his fingers grazing my freshly shaved cunny. Finally, Jack leaned forward and kissed my tummy, cupping my bottom in his hands. I ran my fingers through his thick grey hair, enjoying the way he touched me.

  “Lay down for me, Anne,” he whispered. I climbed into bed next to him, laying my head on his pillow. He hovered over me, kissing me on the lips for the first time. I expected him to be aggressive with his tongue, but he wasn’t, and I had to seek it out with my own. He broke off our kiss and brushed my blonde hair away from my neck, kissing me there, nibbling my earlobe, planting more kisses on my shoulder and my collarbone before lingering on my breasts, teasing my nipples with his lips, sending an electric sensation through me that shot straight to my sex.

  Jack’s lips began to shift lower on my body, over my ribs and belly, passing over my cleft to my knees and thighs. I spread my legs for him, eager to feel him kiss me between my legs, but he teased me, kissing my belly and hip bones, then my thighs again, purposely avoiding my hungry slit.

  “I hope you don’t have to be somewhere else,” Jack said. “It takes me a while to get hard again.”

  “That’s alright,” I said. “This is where I want to be right now.”

  “Just what I wanted to hear,” he said, smiling. Then he ducked his head between my legs, kissing my nether lips, his tongue parting them, probing my cleft, seeking my moisture and teasing my pearl from its hooded lair. I squeezed his freckled shoulders as he began to lick me, and his tongue felt as long as his cock, filling me, pleasuring me, making me squirm on the rippling bed. I rocked my hips, feeling the waves move up my back and then down, reflecting off of the side of the waterbed.

  “Jack...yes...yes...,” I moaned, for real this time, not the simulated cries of an actress. He cupped my bottom and drew me closer, drinking from my chalice, his long, pointy tongue lashing my clit. A girl could get used to this, I thought, closing my eyes and picturing myself on the set of one of his movies, being taken by him on Amber’s kitchen table, with real lights, real cameras, professionals watching and filming our every move instead of an amateur like Cecil.

  Jack began to lick me faster, squeezing my ass, his tongue curling into a cylinder and pressing into my passage. I felt the tip rubbing the top wall of my cunny, my special spot, that sensitive area that only fingers or cocks could reach. It was as if he knew about this, knew exactly what I wanted to feel, and I began to come, my whole body shaking, sending more ripples through the bed. He began to ravish my button again, pushing me off another peak, a second climax, and I rocked my hips back and forth, humping his expert tongue. I tugged at his shoulder, letting him know that I wanted to feel him inside me. Jack released his hold on my bottom, crawling up the bed and laying next to me.

  “That was wonderful,” I whispered, running my hand over his chest, moving lower, down his belly, taking his flaccid cock in my hand and gently squeezing it.

  “I could tell you liked it,” Jack said, smiling and sticking out his tongue. I lunged for it, sucking it into my mouth, swirling my tongue over it as if it was a penis. He pulled me on top of him, his hands stroking my back and bottom as we kissed.

  “Let me make you hard again,” I cooed. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  “Give it a try,” he said. “It might take a while. I’m not a spring chicken anymore.”

  I slithered down his body like a snake, planting a trail of kisses every couple of inches, curling up between his legs. First I gave the tip of his cock a tender kiss, gently lifting it and licking the muscular ridge on the underside, nuzzling his hairy balls, sucking them into my mouth. Then I engulfed his soft penis in my mouth, all the way to the base, something I wouldn’t have been able to do if he was hard. I felt him begin to stir and engorge, his blood flowing into his member, making it beat in my mouth as if it had a heart. I swirled my tongue over his shaft, tracing every vein and bump, up to his fleshy glans. Jack let out a soft moan as he began to harden between my lips.

  I started str
oking his shaft, bathing the tip of his cock with my tongue, cradling his heavy nuts in my fingers. When I probed his crack with my fingertip, his hips began to move, sending slow ripples through the bed. He was halfway there, and I started to moan for him, letting him know how much I loved his cock, how much I desired him, wanted to please him, to feel him inside me.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” Jack murmured. “We’re getting there.” He was almost fully erect but I didn’t stop sucking him, even though he was hard enough to enter me. I wanted to worship his thick pole some more, to moan as I swirled my tongue over his fat cockhead, to be his little porn star, not stopping until he was throbbing. Finally, I released him from my mouth, giving his glans another kiss, moving up from between his legs to straddle his hips, rubbing the tip of his cock over my wet labia.

  “Shit,” I said, just as I was about to guide him inside me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not wearing my diaphragm,” I said. I was going to put it in after I went swimming, and I hadn’t expected to meet someone at the pool.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, pressing upwards with his hips. “Vasectomy.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup, got snipped years ago,” he said.

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard in all day,” I said, slowly lowering myself on to his hard meat, feeling him enter me, open me, fill me. Jack reached up and cupped my breasts, flicking his thumbs over my stiff nipples. As I began to slide up and down on his pole, he held my bottom, guiding my rhythm, setting the pace of our coupling. He felt huge inside me, and even though I never really cared about the size of a man’s penis, Jack’s mighty cock satisfied me in ways I’d never felt before. Almost immediately I felt that tingling in my belly, that heat between my legs, as his thick veiny shaft wormed in and out of my hungry cunny.

  I collapsed to his chest and swiveled my hips, stirring my honeypot with his big stick, savoring the feeling of his fleshy cockhead dragging over my secret spot, the way the base of his shaft opened me at the bottom of every stroke. Jack caressed my back, moving his hips in time with mine. The waterbed didn’t allow him much in the way of leverage, so it was up to me to thrust for both of us. I didn’t mind this at all. I wanted to keep it nice and slow, savoring the feeling of his wonderful tool inside me, wanting it to last forever.