Filthy Dirty Normal, Volume 3

by Lexi Maxxwell

  Filthy Dirty Normal Volume 3

  Lexi Maxxwell

  EROS | A division of Sterling & Stone

  Contents

  Title Page

  The Hardcore Photo Shoot - Part 1

  The Hardcore Photo Shoot - Part 2

  Caught Her Masturbating

  About the Author

  © 2017 Lexi Maxxwell. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help us spread the word.

  For a free ebook and news about upcoming releases, please visit leximaxxwell.com.

  The Hardcore Photo Shoot - Part 1

  Amanda shook hands with the nice guy wearing the button-up shirt. It was downright surreal to think that in a half hour or so she’d have his cock in her mouth.

  “Tony,” he said.

  “You’re dressed so nicely,” said Amanda.

  Amanda was dressed nicely too, but she’d been outfitted that way by the wardrobe people. She was wearing a tight, sleeveless red dress that came to just above her knees with matching red high heels. These were her character’s work clothes. The way the scene was supposed to unfold, she’d walk in from a hard day at the office and find her man asleep, naked under an afghan on the couch. She’d jump at the chance for some stress relief, and things would go from there.

  Tony laughed. “A lot of people around here call me Scout, as in Boy Scout, like I’m too good for this business. I’m not, though. I’m as filthy as the rest of them. I dress like this because it reminds me that I’m going to work, not to play.”

  “That’s deep,” said Amanda. She already felt charmed by this very non-porn porn guy, but there was really no need to flirt and play coy. Soon they’d know every inch of each other.

  “You’re new, right?” he asked.

  Amanda couldn’t help blushing. “This is my first shoot, actually.”

  “Then let me give you some advice. What you’re doing here is work. Always remember that. A lot of actors never figure that out, or they figure it out too late. They translate ‘I work in porn’ to ‘I am a porno person’ to ‘I am a whore.’ But they’re not the same. Not at all.”

  Amanda touched his arm and smiled, pleased by his efforts to calm her, but he stepped back.

  “And,” he added, “it’s probably a good idea to try to avoid forming … attachments … to anyone you work with.”

  She let her hand fall back to her side.

  “You’ll do great,” he said. “I look forward to working with you.”

  Tony turned and walked away, probably to the ad-hoc wardrobe room (the photographer’s bedroom) and makeup (a different corner of the photographer’s bedroom). Amanda watched him go.

  It was crazy to think that she was about to be the star of a real-life hardcore photo shoot, but the situation was what it was. She’d signed documents. She was committed. She was more nervous than she’d ever been in her life, but she was determined to go through with it. She’d screwed a talent agent to get here. She liked sex and she’d be paid well. And really, her looks and body had gotten her this far in life, so how could they fail her now?

  But as she watched Tony disappear, it occurred to Amanda that she liked the way he looked, and that seemed important. He had a soft, reassuring voice, and the arm she’d touched had felt firm and muscular. If she was going to let some guy she’d just met screw her in front of a camera, it was good that she had a shot at enjoying it.

  After Tony left, Amanda found herself standing alone in the middle of a cleared area in what had, a few hours ago, been a living room. Now it was a mass of lights and cords and people running hither and yon with light meters and adaptors and other devices she didn’t understand. She felt very much in the way. She also felt as if she must stand out like a sore thumb—dressed to the nines, her hair done up, wearing all red, and standing in heels. She felt like the “woman in red” from The Matrix—the one spark of color among shades of gray. And, also like the movie, a woman who was put there for male gratification.

  She stepped out of the center of the cleared area and moved against a wall.

  She was the star here, supposedly, but she didn’t feel like one. None of the crew was paying her any attention. They were here for work, just as Tony had said he was. Another day taking pictures of people fucking was just another day punching the clock to them. Amanda felt like she should be attracting stares dressed as she was, but nobody was looking. Sex and sexiness must be so commonplace to these people that they didn’t even notice it. She wouldn’t be raising any peckers with this audience. She only hoped that she could raise Tony’s.

  And there it was again — the doubt that had been plaguing her. Amanda was pretty sure she could go through with the job she was here to do, so it was ironic that what was actually bothering her was a feeling of inadequacy.

  It had been weeks between the audition and her first job call, and a few more weeks between the first job call and the day she accepted an assignment. Her agent didn’t seem bothered when she passed on the first few. Apparently it was par for the course. And so, during that time, he had suggested she meet some of the people she’d be working with. Amanda had gone to a cocktail hour of sorts, to socialize. The event had been classy and nice, and all of that had been very encouraging … but the girls all seemed so seasoned. They thought nothing of fucking for a living, and that matter-of-fact confidence in their sexuality radiated from them like heat. Amanda, who’d never had a problem with sexual confidence in the past, felt dwarfed by it.

  The company she’d gotten this job with was a website called Prime Art — an inauspicious name for a porn site. But Amanda considered herself fortunate once she did her research, because the site was very tasteful. The photography was beautiful, and none of the people in the scenes seemed slutty or used-up or jaded, despite the fact that none of them were first-timers, or even especially new to the business. Amanda felt totally green next to their bold sexuality.

  It was strange, she realized, that she didn’t feel as if she was being exploited by the porn industry and that instead, she was afraid of failing to meet its high standards.

  Amanda ran both hands down the front of her dress self-consciously. Then, because there was time to kill and nowhere to go, she walked into the bathroom. She closed the door and looked herself over. She admitted that she did, in fact, look smoking hot. Her brown hair was styled beautifully — not the mall hair she’d feared after her audition. And her makeup was perfect and understated and natural — not at all the over-caked, super-slutty porn makeup she’d had nightmares about. She looked like plain old Amanda when Amanda was at her best, and Amanda had stood in front of many a mirror before dates, confident that she was really damn good.

  She took several deep breaths, trying to summon that confident feeling.

  You are sexy.

  You are hot.

  You are every straight man’s fantasy.

  It was all true, but still she felt that gnawing in her gut. She also felt a fluttering sensation in her genitals, which was relatively explainable but totally inappropriate.

  She wondered if she’d be turned on during the shoot.

  She wondered if it was okay to be turned on during the shoot.

  She wondered if Tony would be turned on.

  Of course, he’d have to be turned on enough to get hard, and he’d have to be turned on enough to come. But was
it just business beyond that? The way he talked, it was. She’d almost have felt better if he’d drooled all over her, or if he’d responded to her flirtatious touch. But what if she was just another co-worker? She usually fed on the lust of her partner. Turning the man on was half of what turned her on. What would the sex be like without an excited man? Could she perform in cold blood?

  More deep breaths.

  You can do this, she told herself.

  Amanda came out of the bathroom, walked in front of the heavily-lit couch, and sat down on a canvas director’s chair. She crossed her legs, aware of how ironic it was to hide her crotch in a situation like this one.

  A moment later, Tony reappeared and sat next to her. He was in a white robe, and he appeared to be wearing some base makeup. His hair was more or less untouched, still dark and slightly wild. She was amused to see that he was wearing slippers.

  “You doing okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

  “Have you ever had sex in front of people before?”

  Amanda thought back to a party she’d been at a few weeks ago, when she’d gotten totally naked and sucked off her boyfriend in front of a crowd of people. That had been for practice — and her reputation be damned.

  “Yes. My boyfriend and I did it once.”

  “Boyfriend? Does he know you’re here?”

  Oh. Right. She’d forgotten about that in all of the neuroses.

  “No.”

  “Jealous type?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But he’s not as big as …”

  … as you. But finishing the sentence felt flirtatious, so she let it go.

  Tony smirked.

  After a moment spent staring at the couch and watching assistants step into frame with meters to give light readings to the photographer, Amanda said, “So how does this work?”

  He shrugged. “In a few minutes, they’ll have us go into the scene. I’ll be naked under the blanket, and the way I understand this one, you’ll pull the blanket off, and I’ll pretend to stay asleep while you start sucking my dick. When that doesn’t wake me up, you’ll raise your dress, pull your panties aside, and slide down onto it, and then …”

  Amanda held up a hand, feeling blood rush into her face — and, truth be told, into her groin. She knew the plot of the scene and what she was supposed to do, but hearing it described so matter-of-factly was surreal. They’d just met. They didn’t know anything about each other, and in a few minutes she was supposed to stand up in front of a bunch of people with lights and cameras and their second cups of coffee, and pull her panties aside and slide onto his erect cock. After nineteen years in which flirting preceded dating preceded kissing preceded touching preceded sex, the bluntness of it all was intimidating … and somehow hot, judging by the dampness she suddenly noticed in those panties she’d soon be pulling aside.

  “I know the plot,” she said. “I meant, because they’re taking still photos instead of shooting video, do we just kind of pose, or do we …?”

  It was hard to talk to him about it. Usually this process was so guarded. She was asking this hot guy how he’d put himself inside of her in the same way she’d ask if a sandwich normally came with mustard on it.

  “Well, I’ve got to be hard, so I’ll get hard somehow. I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to help with that. This is your first scene, and technically you’re being paid to pose with me, not screw me in any normal sense. Usually the girl will get the guy’s cock hard in … the usual way, let’s say.”

  “I’ll do that,” Amanda blurted. She said it like she’d been prodded. It was like a nervous flinch.

  “Then, they’ll tell us what to do. So, like, you’ll put your lips on the tip of my cock, and they’ll say, ‘Take more of it into your mouth’ or ‘Use your other hand to spread your legs.’ There’s a lot of that — body positioning. We’re all used to sex, sure, but we’re not used to having to show the right things from a certain angle. That’s why amateur sex tapes are usually so horrible … the right parts aren’t showing, stuff isn’t exposed enough, you’re in a position that makes your gut stick out and you don’t know it … things like that.”

  “But I mean … do we …?”

  Tony gave a questioning shrug.

  “Between pictures, I mean. Do we … you know … keep going?”

  Holy fuck is this strange, she thought.

  “Up to you. I’ll probably need to thrust some to stay hard, but some couples, if they find they’re getting into it, will keep right on going whether the crew is ready for the shot or not. As long as you pause when they want to take pictures and as long as the guy doesn’t come too early, anything is game.”

  Amanda didn’t like that he was putting the choice of how the scene would unfold on her shoulders. If she chose just to stick his cock in places, take the shot, and move on, she might come off as cold. But if she wanted to fuck it out, she might come off as crossing the line between pro and slut. It was your classic “I don’t want to admit I like you until I know that you like me” situation, only “like” in this case was a bit more intimate. This time it wasn’t about passing notes in class; it was about having a strange dick inside of her and deciding whether or not she wanted to extend a business transaction in order to get some personal gratification.

  “And … the end?”

  “They like a natural cumshot,” he said. “Did they tell you if they want me to come on your face?”

  “In my mouth,” she said, as if it were an admission of guilt.

  “Okay. Well for one, fake cum looks fake, so they only use it if the guy can’t get off. That happens sometimes on these still shoots, because you’re not actually fucking, and it takes a long time. I’ve never had that issue,” he said with a touch of pride. Then he looked her over from head to toe for the first time and said, “And if it doesn’t embarrass you for me to say so, I don’t think I’ll have a hard time coming with you.”

  For just a few seconds, his eyes stopped being business and started being sexual. She felt him look right through her dress at her modest C-cup breasts, her clean-shaven pussy. For a second, he was interested in her as more than as a co-star. Amanda felt the swelling sensation under her dress increase, and she suddenly wished very badly that she was on a hard stool instead of this canvas chair, so that she could maneuver into a position where the hard edges were pressing against the right spots.

  “But anyway, by the time they’re ready to photograph the cumshot, they’ve gotten everything they need leading up to it, so it’s just a matter of getting the guy off. Some girls stroke the guy off and some suck them off. But I’d be happy to do it myself if you’d like, and then come in your mouth when I’m ready.”

  Jesus. This was too much. She felt positively soaked down below. She didn’t trust herself to decide how he’d come in her mouth right now. She’d have to play it by ear when the time came, no pun intended.

  Amanda looked over at Tony — at his square chin, at the hint of stubble that said he’d skipped shaving for a day or two. She wondered what he looked like under that robe. She wondered if he had a nice ass. She also wondered if she’d have time, right now, to run into the bathroom, hike up her dress, and use her fingers to relieve the intense pressure she was feeling.

  A thin woman in low heels walked over to Amanda and Tony and extended her hand. She introduced herself as Avery, the photographer’s assistant. They shook hands (Amanda once again thinking how strange the niceties were, considering what was coming) and Avery asked if they were ready. They said they were. Then Avery turned just to Amanda and said again, “You’re sure you’re ready? Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “Okay,” said Avery, waving to someone Amanda couldn’t see. She looked at Tony. “Go ahead and get under the blanket, then.”

  Amanda felt a shiver. She realized she’d never been so eager to see a guy naked. It was the situation. Nobody was supposed to go from where t
hey were, talking shop and shaking hands, to flat-out naked.

  Tony opened his robe and took it off. He neatly folded it, and placed it where he’d been sitting. Then, totally nude, he unselfconsciously walked to the couch under the lights and lay down. Amanda wasn’t disappointed by his ass. It was firm and high, and moved nicely when he walked. His back was muscular, but not overly muscular. His chest was developed and he had a six-pack, but it wasn’t a steroid body. He looked exactly like a porn guy should, in other words. And that continued below his abs, where a flaccid but already sizable penis hung. Amanda resisted an impulse to reach out and touch it when he passed her, but now under her dress, she felt emptier than ever. She really, really wished she had time to slip into the bathroom to fill that vacancy in whatever way she could find.

  On the couch, Tony covered himself with an off-white afghan. Avery walked over to Amanda, then pointed toward the end of the couch. Amanda followed. Avery had Amanda pose a few different ways, as if she’d just walked in and discovered her man asleep. Avery and the photographer told her to look curious, then to put a finger to her lips and make her eyes seem “lusty.”

  “Okay. Now pull the blanket back and run your index finger along the top of his dick,” said Avery. Amanda thought it was a strange thing to hear from a woman who looked like she could work in a cubicle next to her mother.

  Amanda giggled nervously as she uncovered Tony. There was a moment of unreality and a thought ran through her mind: I’m not supposed to be seeing this, let alone touching it. This is a professional situation, here.

  But when she looked over, Avery was nodding.

  Amanda bent at the waist, her ass out, and touched this strange man’s cock. This handsome man’s cock.

  A few flashes came from the strobes.

  “Okay, Tony,” said Avery. “Get it hard.”

  But Amanda remembered her promise, so she told Avery she’d do it. She started to work his flaccid penis in her hand. In the thirty seconds it took to stiffen, Amanda felt the pressure between her legs throb into a fever pitch. She wondered if it would be out of line to begin sucking it now — not because he needed it, but because she just kind of wanted to.