The Lies We Lead
Marc Nobbs
Marc Nobbs
Northampton, UK
3rd Kindle Edition published 2021 by Parkland Independent Books
Text, Copyright 2021 Marc Nobbs
Cover Art, Copyright 2021 Marc Nobbs
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The right in UK Law of Marc Nobbs to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright holder.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Mature Content
This ebook contains sexually explicit material and is intended for free‐thinking individuals over the age of 18. By downloading and opening this book, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction and that doing so is legal in the territory where you reside.
This book uses uncompromising adult language to depict uncompromising adult activities. If that is likely to offend you, sorry, but you downloaded the wrong book, please go and do something else.
“The Lies We Lead” is dedicated to the amazing ladies of the HOT BBR Facebook Group. Over the past twelve months, you’ve made being a writer an enormous amount of fun and inspired me to keep writing for you. I hope you enjoy my efforts.
Tracey Lou, Helen, Cindy, Elizabeth, Deb, Nancy, Kristi, Sally, and many, many more—thank you for making being a writer fun again.
I would like to extend my thanks to the beta-readers who helped with the development of this book, particularly Ash. There’s nothing quite like someone looking over cyber-shoulder to keep you writing.
Just like a number of my other novels, The Lies We Lead takes place in Westmouth, Westmouthshire—a fictional town and county on the South-East Coast of England. It makes use of some of the locations established in the earlier Westmouthshire Novels and also references characters and events from them.
So if you’ve read any or all of Kissed by a Rose, Eternally & Evermore, A Good Man, A Tortured Soul, The Big Four Ohhh! and Charlotte’s Secret then keep your eyes open and allow yourself a wry smile when you spot a reference.
But can you spot them all? I’ve compiled a list at the back of the book.
Oh, and one more thing. This book uses uncompromising adult language to depict uncompromising adult activities. If that is likely to offend you, sorry, but you bought the wrong book.
“My goal is to be myself,
and to challenge stereotypes,
and to follow the rules,
and break them,
and make new rules.
It’s not about doing something that’s already been done.
That would be silly.”
October 2013
My stepdaughter, Dom, is a bitch. I don’t mean to be rude, but there is simply no other word for her. She’s five foot eleven of big-boobed, wide-hipped, blue-eyed, blonde-haired nineteen-year-old bitchiness.
She’s gorgeous and she knows it—which just adds to the whole bitch thing, you know?
She wasn’t always like this. When I met her mother, Emma, Dom was a sweet little fourteen-year-old who didn’t show any signs of blossoming into the stunning beauty she’d eventually become. Or any signs of just what a bitch she’d turn out to be.
Okay, maybe I’m getting ahead of things. Perhaps I should back the fuck up a bit. Cast your mind back about five years ago. To September 2008. The bottom had fallen out of the Sub-Prime market, Lehman Brothers had filed for bankruptcy and Iceland’s three largest banks had collapsed. Unfortunately for me, I worked for the London subsidiary of one of them.
You won’t be surprised to hear that I suddenly found myself in need of alternative employment. I ended up taking a job for less than half what I had been earning, out in the provincial south-coast town of Westmouth. And there was no way on God’s Green Earth that my Trophy Wife of ten years was going to follow me in moving out of the capital. Instead, the little bitch found herself a sugar-daddy twice her age who’d somehow managed to profit from The Crash rather than suffer from it. And he was willing to fund her lifestyle for a weekly blowjob or two.
In fairness though, her blowjobs were one of the main reasons, if not the main reason, that I’d married the crazy bitch in the first place, so I really couldn’t blame him.
Her? Yes, I’d blame her. Twisted, ungrateful, money-grabbing little—Sorry, got sidetracked.
The point is, I found myself living in a smart little apartment overlooking Westmouth Bay, instead of a penthouse on the banks of the Thames, doing a job that didn’t challenge me in the slightest and earning a fraction of what I once did. And as nice as Westmouth was, I knew absolutely no-one outside of the office, most of whom were married with kids (and those that weren’t…. Well, let’s say there’s a reason they weren’t and leave it at that). Most of the bars in the town were full of students, not middle-aged divorcees, so I’d look somewhat out of place there. And let’s face facts here, as much as I’d be happy banging a hot young student or two, the likelihood of that ever happening was pretty damn remote. Even if I was still able to flash more than enough cash to impress most of them. Just not quite as much I once had though.
So I turned to internet-dating and after six failed encounters (by which I mean six disappointingly lousy fumbles back at her place after less than inspiring dinner conversation), I found myself sitting opposite Emma—a lovely looking auburn-brunette—and being completely charmed by her wit and intelligence.
We didn’t fuck after that first date. We didn’t fuck after the second, third or fourth dates either. After the fifth date, we went back to my place and the sex was… Well, it was the best I’d had in a long, long time. Frankly, it was spectacular.
It was after that that I was introduced to Dom. I knew then things were getting serious. I’d fallen hard for Emma and was pretty sure she felt the same. Being introduced to her daughter confirmed it. I moved in about a month later and we got married the following spring.
And we were happy. Our second-hand family unit was doing just fine. Until Dom’s father suddenly re-entered her life.
His name was Jack and it suited him. A jack-the-lad wannabe who thought himself the mutt’s nuts. Loud, abrasive and drunk about seventy per cent of the time, he had left Emma when Dom was still in primary school, and now came back just as the poor girl was embarking on her GCSEs. He promised her the world and she fell for it. I went from being the guy who made her mum happy (and by extension, made Dom happy), to the other guy, the usurper, the man sitting in her Daddy’s chair and sleeping in her Daddy’s bed every night.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Jack-the-bastard turned his daughter’s head from the studious path she was on. She had brains and could really have gone as far as she wanted to push herself, but he’d done okay without any qualifications, and he didn’t see why she needed them either. She stopped studying at home and became increasingly disruptive at school.
It didn’t help that by this stage she was starting to bloom into a stunner of epic proportions. I’m not saying that brains and looks are mutually exclusive, but when the boys at school (and beyond) started to take notice and her good-for-nothing, son-of-a-bitch father started filling her head with the kind of nonsense that a young girl is all too easily susceptible to… Well, you can guess where this is going.
You know the kind of thing I mean when I say he filled her head with rubbish.
“You could be a model.”
“With your looks, you’ll be a star.”
“You can get anything you want looking the way you do.”
That sort of crap.
Needless to say, Dom completely failed her exams (hell, she didn’t even turn up for all of them) and also, needless to say, her father was long gone by the time Emma and I were dealing with the fallout. Emma insisted that Dom had to go to the local sixth-form college to retake all the exams she’d failed—which obviously Dom blamed on me filling her mother’s head with stupid ideas. The poor girl was still under the impression that she’d get by on her looks alone.
Jack-the-Twat had a lot to answer for.
The next couple of years were pure hell for me and Emma. Dom dropped out of college and refused to get a job. She sat around in the house all day and went out at night not telling us where she was going, what she was doing or who she was doing it with. And the problems with Dom led to problems between me and Emma.
It was a classic case of second family syndrome. And, honestly, I was about ready to give up on the whole situation. I loved Emma, but I wasn’t sure I could continue to put up with Dom to be with her.
And that brings you right up to date. So I guess now I can start the story. The story of how two video files and seven days changed my life—our lives—forever.
It had been a long, hard week and all I wanted to do that weekend was relax and unwind. But I knew the chances of that were slim. Emma had a list of jobs she wanted me to do and I just knew that Dom would be hanging around being her usual bitchy self—she wasn’t around the house much, but when she was it always seemed to be when it caused me the most problems. It was as if she had a sixth sense for these things.
I was feeling every one of my forty-six years, and more, as I walked through the front door just after seven on Friday evening.
“Emma, I’m home!” At the start of our relationship, just five short years ago, she’d have come running to greet me at the door with a kiss, but it had been a good long while since she’d done that. Still, it was unusual not to at least get a reply.
I hung up my coat on one of the hooks by the door—hooks I’d put up, by the way, you’d be hard-pressed to find any of those little DIY jobs that had been done by Jack-the-Arsehole during his six or seven years as the man of the house—and meandered into the kitchen, where I’d normally find Emma.
But the lights were off and she wasn’t there.
She was a teacher at a local secondary school and she was typically home before me and usually got started on the dinner around the time I got home. But there were times she was late—when she had a parents’ evening for example. But the school never had parents’ evenings on Fridays.
I supposed she could have been at the pub with some of the other staff. But she usually sent me a text to meet her there if that was the case and we’d indulge in steak and chips followed by a movie or something.
It was very curious. I looked in the living room, then went upstairs to check our bedroom and even the bathroom. But the house was dark and deserted. Dom being out I could understand. Hell, Dom being out I actually welcomed. But Emma?
Things may have been strained between us over the situation with Dom but they weren’t that bad. For example, Emma never went anywhere without letting me know where she was and when I’d expect her back because she knew I would worry. And now I was worried. This was weird.
I took my mobile phone out of my pocket and quickly tapped on the screen to call her. But the call went to voice-mail after a few rings. She could have been driving and not able to answer. Or she could have chosen not to answer—but I didn’t think she would do that. Or maybe there was some other reason she couldn’t answer. I tapped in a text message and sent it, hoping that even if she was driving she might be able to send me a short reply to say so.
I trudged back down the stairs, into the kitchen and opened the fridge door to see what I could use to make a meal. After standing staring into the almost empty cold-store for over a minute, I swung the door shut and unlocked my phone. A few taps later I had a pizza on order from the local takeaway. Aren’t smart-phones great?
It was after I wandered back into the living room and flopped into my favourite chair, that my phone beeped its distinctive message notification. I unlocked it and read the pop-up.
Well, bugger me. I might get to have a relaxing weekend after all.
Sorry, I know that sounds horrible, but Emma’s mother was pretty much the stereotypical catholic matriarch and she didn’t like me. Okay, so it’s not that she didn’t like me, but more that she didn’t like that her good catholic daughter had a) divorced and b) remarried. If the old battle-axe had gotten her way, Emma would still be suffering in the marriage to Jack-the-lying-cheating-scumbag.
That said, I’m not completely heartless. I recognised that at her advanced age (she was eighty-something) a fall could be pretty nasty. So I didn’t begrudge Emma travelling the three hundred miles or more, five-hour journey north to see her.
I tapped in a reply telling my wife to take care on the road and not to try and drive back if was too late. I didn’t need to say that, I knew full well she’d stay until at least Sunday evening. I wondered briefly if Emma had taken Dom with her. The old biddy doted on her grand-daughter and even at nineteen Dom didn’t mind being the centre of attention and affection. But then it occurred to me that the last thing Dom would be interested in was hanging around a hospital on a Friday night. She was probably already out on the lash with her good-for-nothing friends.
I switched on the TV and watched about five minutes of a news channel then had a thought. Since I had the house to myself, I could get a little preview of something I’d planned to watch with Emma that weekend—probably on Saturday night.
Whatever may have been going on with Dom, Emma and I were still in love and we still had a pretty healthy and active sex-life. We mixed things up whenever we could and we weren’t afraid or embarrassed to introduce various marital aids into the bedroom—whether that be in the form of toys or visual stimuli. I’m talking, of course, about pornography. About once or twice a month Emma and I would watch a porno together and end up emulating the action on screen as best we could.
Now, in years gone by the only way to get your hands on the hardcore stuff was to sneak it into the country from somewhere like Amsterdam, but in the internet age, it was much easier to get hold of. And get hold of it I did.
We had an adult filter on our home broadband connection from when Dom was a teenager and I’d never bothered to turn it off. Instead, I had a pal at work who had a huge collection and was always downloading the latest releases and he was happy to let me have copies of what he considered to be the best videos around.
I retrieved the USB stick he’d given me that afternoon from my bag and plugged it in the socket on the side of the TV.
“This is really good,” he’d told me when he handed it over. “Top drawer stuff. Wait until you see the bird in it. She’s a stunner. And talk about enthusiastic. Do you know how I always say that the best porn stars are the ones that look like they are enjoying it? Well, fuck me, she’s good, ‘cause I’m convinced she was having the fucking time of her life. Local bird too, judging by the accent. Fuck, I’d like to meet her in Central Pier one night.” (Central Pier was a nightclub situated on the middle of the town’s three piers and was quite popular with both the students and local youth alike.)
By the time I got back to my armchair, the menu showing the contents of the stick was on the screen. I’d seen most of the movies on there already (some with Emma and some without), so I used the remote to order the files by date, with the most recent at the top. The file was called “DDV-Hornylildevil”. I selected it and hit play.
The screen went black then faded up to show a very, very beautiful young woman sitting on the edge of a bed wearing only lacy black underwear that contrasted with her china-doll pale skin. I believe the style of bra she wore is often called balconette or something, but whatever it was it was doing a very poor job of containing her boundless bosom.
“Hi,” she purred, staring directly into the camera. “I’m Dominique D’Ville—” She shimmied her shoulders, making those enormous tits wobble delightfully. “And I’m a horny little devil.”
“Fuck!” I stared, transfixed by the beauty on the screen.
She wore a black wig and goth style make-up—heavy black eye-shadow, black lipstick, you know what I mean—but despite that there was no mistaking those cheekbones or the glint in those bright blue eyes or that wicked, devilish smile.
Dominique D’Ville was, in fact, Dominique Jackson, my wayward stepdaughter.
As this revelation set in, Dom was joined on screen by three naked studs who quickly divested her of what little clothing she had, lay her back on the bed and while one of them buried his face between her legs, the other two positioned themselves by her head and she alternated sucking on each of their cocks.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as the action rapidly progressed from oral to penetration and beyond. I watched my queen-bitch of stepdaughter get fucked on her back and fucked doggy style. I watched her ride one cock cowgirl style, and another in reverse. And it seemed like she always had a cock in her mouth.
It was non-stop, raw, passionate, porno action. One of the guys eased his massive dick up her arse and pounded her mercilessly while she moaned and screamed and cursed and urged him to fuck her even harder. Then he pulled out, lay on his back and she lowered her arsehole back onto his cock. Then one of the other guys stepped between her spread legs and speared her cunt with his prick.
Double Fucking Penetration!
Sure, I’d seen that in porn before, but this was DOM! This was my stepdaughter with both her holes filled. With all three holes filled actually since she didn’t have to wait long before the third stunt cock was shoved in her gob.
Part of me—a big part of me— was disgusted. How could she do something like that? My stepdaughter?
But, damn, it was a hot scene. My work-mate had been right, it was one of the hottest I’d seen in ages. Another part of me—that little voice at the back of our minds that we never want to admit is there—recognised that and loved it.
Dominique D’Ville may well have been my stepdaughter and, sure, I was horrified at the idea of what she was doing… But my God she didn’t half look good doing it. Her cries of passion didn’t sound fake, like so many you hear. She sucked cock with such obvious enthusiasm. And the look on her face whenever a cock penetrated her was not one of someone acting.
Dom was a fantastic porn star.
“Oh shit!” a small voice whispered from behind me. I barely heard it over Dom’s muffled cries of passion and the grunting studs on the telly.
I whipped my head around and found, standing in the doorway looking for all the world like she’d just woken up—and yet still looking freakishly gorgeous despite this—was the very woman currently getting pounded from all angles on the screen.
She stared at the TV, transfixed by the images, her eyes wide and her mouth open in a real stereotypical expression of shock.
She looked at me, then back at the screen, then at me again, and said quietly, “Where…? How….? Where did you get this?”
“I… er… From a guy at work.” Then I added, almost conversationally, “He said it was really hot. That the star was the best he’d seen in ages.”
“What?”
“He didn’t say it was you though. Mind you, he’s never met you, so I guess he wouldn’t know it was you.”
“What?” Her expression now one of utter confusion.
“What I mean is… Well… I didn’t know it was you when I started watching it.”
“What? But… You know it’s me now!”
“Can’t have not noticed to be fair.”
“But you’re still watching it!”
“Well… I didn’t know there was anyone in the house.” I winced almost as soon as I said it, realising just how bad that sounded.
“And you’re wanking over it!”
I looked down at my stiffy, which I was gently stroking. To be honest, I hadn’t even realised that at some point I’d unzipped my trousers, taken out my cock and started wanking. But I mean, seriously, isn’t that just what you do when watching porn? Does anyone sit and watch porn with their dick neatly tucked away? Do they watch it for the artistic value?
And this was seriously hot porn regardless of any artistic value.
“You’re nothing but a filthy pervert! I hate you!” She turned and stormed out of the room.
“What? Wait! Hang on a sec, I’m not the one getting royally fuck—” I stood up to go after her and my trousers fell to my ankles. I quickly stuffed my cock away, pulled them up and hurried after my stepdaughter.
She was halfway up the stairs as I got to the foot.
“What the hell are you doing making porn films anyway?”
“None of your damn business,” she said without looking back.
“Does your mother know about this?” Really? Of all the stupid questions to ask.
Dom stopped and turned back to face me. “Of course not! Does she know you watch porn when she’s not around?”
“Well… yes. I check the films out to make sure she’ll like them before we watch them together.” Why was I telling Dom this? “Good job too, don’t you think?”
“What? You mean the two of you…? That’s disgusting!” She stomped up the stairs again.
“Says the woman who I’ve just watched getting fucked by three blokes!”
“Fuck you!”
“Nope, it was definitely you that they were fucking!”
She grunted in frustration, charged across the landing, into her room and slammed the door shut behind her.
“Shit,” I said under my breath.
This was a fucked up situation. Seriously fucked up. How the hell had this happened? How long ago had she made that video? My pal at work had said it was a new release, but how far in advance did they shoot these things? And where had she shot it? I guess I’d always assumed this sort of thing was made in London, but I didn’t remember Dom visiting London recently. Or, at least, I didn’t remember her telling us she’d been to London. But then, why would she? She never told us anything any more.
I climbed the rest of the staircase, walked across the landing to Dom’s room and knocked quietly on the door. “Dom?”
“Fuck off! Leave me alone!”
“Look, Pumpkin—” It’d been a couple of years since I’d called her that. I used to call it her all the time when I first started seeing Emma. “—I think we need to both take a breath and talk about this.”
The door swung open violently and she spat, “Talk about how you watch porn when Mom’s not around? Or about how you watch it together? Or about how you found a video of me and couldn’t help wanking to it?”
She slammed the door in my face and I heard her stomping footsteps retreat to the bed on the other side of the room. Tentatively I pushed the door open and said, “Dom?”
She was lying on her bed, facing away from me. But she didn’t tell me to get lost, so I guess that was progress.
“Look, Pumpkin, I’m going to have to tell your mum, you do know that, right?”
She rolled over to look at me and said, “Why?” There were tears in her eyes but they hadn’t yet started running down her cheeks. That was inevitable though.
I shrugged. “Because. That’s the right thing to do. She deserves to know.”
“You going to tell her how you found out too?”
I nodded. “Like I said, we watch this sort of stuff together and she knows I… er… filter it… beforehand.”
She huffed and turned away from me again. “Fine. Tell her. See if I care.”
“Dom, don’t be like—”
She rolled back to face me again and said, “She’ll throw me out. You know that, don’t you? She’ll throw me out and I’ll have to live on the streets and it’ll be your fault!”
“Honey, I’m not the one in the video.”
“So? You don’t have to tell her!”
“Yes. I do.”
She rolled away again but didn’t say anything.
“Don’t you think it will be better coming from me rather than someone else? Someone she works with, perhaps? Shit, one of the kids even? I mean, teenage boys watch porn all the time, don’t they? What if one of them recognised you and said something… Shit, Dom, you were at that school not long ago.”
She shrugged but didn’t turn to face me.
“Why did you do it anyway? Is this just another rebellious thing or something?”
“No!” she spat, spinning around. “What? Do you think I planned this? Do you think this is what I wanted to do growing up? That I asked the careers advisor how to get into porn? I wanted to be a lawyer for God’s sake! But I blew that when I failed my exams, didn’t I?”
“So, why then?”
“Because it was the only choice I had left!” She sighed. “You really want to know what happened? How I got started?”
I nodded. “It’d help explain things to your mum.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.” She sat up, leaning back against the headboard, pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She put her chin in her knees and took a deep breath, held it in for a second then pushed it out slowly and said, “Okay. Well, it’s partly your fault.”
“My fault? How is it my fault?”
“Only partly. It was mostly Dad.”
Why was I not surprised that good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch had something to do with it. The bastard fucked up everything he touched. I swear if I ever got my hands on him…
“I think you’d better explain,” I said through gritted teeth. Dom knew how I felt about her father. Or should that be her sperm-donor? That man was no father.
She took another deep breath. I think she was still trying to get control of herself. Her emotions must have been all over the place. I know mine were.
“The last time he came back, when I was getting ready for my exams, he was in a lot of trouble.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think you know how much trouble. He owed a lot of money to some very bad people. Very bad. And he came back to ask Mom to help him out. She always has in the past, so I guess he thought this time would be just the same.
“Only you wouldn’t let her give him the money. I suppose, really, that all you did was make her see sense, but that’s not how it seemed at the time.
“He asked me if I could help. He knew I had savings but I couldn’t withdraw them without Mom’s signature because I wasn’t eighteen. So he suggested another way I could help. He said that the people he owed money to knew someone who helped girls my age get into modelling. He said I could make a fortune modelling and that the guys he owed money to would make money off me modelling too, so I figured, why not? They would make money, I could make enough money to help Dad pay them back and maybe a bit extra on top.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” I said.
“Yeah, well… It wasn’t too bad at first. It was all fashion stuff, you know? Cute little dresses, shorts and tops, that sort of thing. I didn’t even think it was odd they dressed me to look younger than I was. You know, pigtails and stuff. Sucking a lollipop. Whatever. I just never thought anything of it. I should have known better but….”
“But everyone was telling you how great you looked and how you were going to be famous and all that kind of thing.”
“Well… Yeah. And it sounded really good. Then they asked me to do stuff in a bikini, or in this cutesy underwear. But I still didn’t twig. I should have, but I didn’t. Even when the poses they asked me to do were more… You know. Even then I didn’t get it. I had no idea where they were selling all the photos and videos to. Yeah, videos. They would video every session I did. I just didn’t think it was weird at all.”
“Dom… Were you still in contact with your father while all this was going on? After he stopped coming around here, I mean?”
She shook her head. “He abandoned me as soon as I’d earned enough money to pay his gambling debts. But I kept going back because they were still paying me. I had my own money and whenever I went to the warehouse I was the centre of attention. They treated me like a princess or something. I loved it, so why wouldn’t I keep doing it?”
She shifted her position, turning to face me properly and dangling her legs off the edge of the bed. “Really, it didn’t feel as if I was doing anything wrong. I know I made things difficult for you and Mom here. I know that I should have tried harder in my exams. I know that I should have stayed in college and retaken them when I failed, but at the time I was all like, why? You know? At least once a week, sometimes twice, I’d go to this warehouse in Brackfields and people would fuss over me, do my hair, my make-up, tell me how beautiful I was, take pictures and then hand me a wad of cash. It was brilliant! Even when—”
My mobile burst into life and I knew immediately from the special ringtone that it was Emma. I held my hand up to Dom and took the phone from my pocket.
“Don’t tell her!” Dom said, looking panicked.
I gave her a look that left her in no doubt how stupid that comment was. “You really think I’m going to tell her now? Over the phone? While she’s at your Grandma’s? How stupid do you think I am?”
Dom looked relieved. Worried still, but relieved.
I swiped across the screen and put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Emma.”
“Bobby, hi. I’m sorry I left without telling you first but—”
“It’s okay. I understand. How is she?”
“I don’t know. I’m still stuck in this traffic. There’s been a pile-up further up the motorway. We’re at a standstill. Have been for an hour. The radio says they’ve closed the road until they clear it.”
“Can’t you come off and go the other way?”
“I would, but I must be four or five miles from the next junction. I’m stuck here until they reopen one of the lanes and start letting us through.”
“Damn. Have you got something to eat? Drink?”
“Nibbles. Nothing more. Look, is Dom okay? She was in bed when I left. She said she had a headache. Although I think that was just an excuse not to come with me.”
“She’s fine. We were actually just sitting having a talk while we wait for the pizza to arrive.”
“Pizza? You ordered pizza? Can you get them to deliver one to me while I’m waiting?”
“I’ll ask when the guy arrives.”
“And you two are actually talking? Wow. What about?”
I paused. “Oh, you know. Stuff. The news. Just general stuff.”
“Oh. Right. Okay. Well, just don’t kill each other. Okay?”
“We’re okay, Emma. Don’t worry about us.”
“Okay. Well, at this rate it could be late before I get to Mom’s, so I’ll call you again tomorrow morning, okay?”
“Yep. Speak to you tomorrow.”
I hung up the phone and Dom said, “Did you really order pizza?”
I nodded.
“Did you get enough for me?”
“I didn’t know you were here, remember? Or I wouldn’t have…” I nodded towards the landing.
“Yeah… Yeah, of course. Sorry.”
I smiled. “But you know me and pizza. I always get too much and keep some for breakfast. We can share.”
She grinned. And not the usual evil shit-eating grin I normally saw from her. Just a genuine, happy little smile. “Thanks.”
“So… You were saying how it was good to have money, even when… Even when what?”
And then the doorbell rang.
I looked at Dom. She looked at me. We both smiled and said at the same time, just like when she was fourteen and we ordered take-out once a week, “Pizza Time!”
We sat at the kitchen table eating pizza and drinking beer and we talked. Not about the video, just general chit-chat. It was nice to just sit and talk with her about nothing particular. Music. TV. Politics, even. I don’t think I’d ever talked politics with her before. It was nice.
“How long has it been since we did this?” I asked as I picked up another slice of Ham and Mushroom from the open box between us.
“Don’t know,” she said through a mouthful of the same. She swallowed then added, “ages.”
“We used to have pizza every Friday when I first moved in. Remember?”
She nodded. “End of the Week Treat, you used to call it. A celebration that we’d made it to another weekend intact.” She took a sip of beer. “I fucked all that up though, didn’t I? I know I took it out on you when Dad came back. Well, when he left again, actually. And I’m sorry about that, I really am. I should have known what he was like, but… Well…”
“He’s your dad?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”
“I understand. Honestly, I do. My dad was an arsehole, he really was, but I didn’t see it until I was in my late-twenties. Up until then, I idolised him.”
“It couldn’t have been easy on you, though. I was horrible to you all the time for no reason. I’m surprised you stuck around.”
“Were you trying to get rid of me?”
She shrugged again. “I dunno. I guess. Maybe. I dunno.”
A few moments passed silently as we tucked into the delicious cheesy goodness at hand.
“I’m sorry, Bobby,” she said before reaching for another slice. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch the past couple of years. Sorry I didn’t listen when you told me what bad news Dad was. Sorry I’ve fucked up my future in the worst way imaginable. I mean, it’s not like I can do porn forever, but what chance have I got of a normal life after I quit? Whatever normal is. I don’t even think I know that any more.”
She looked sad. Really, really sad. No eyes so young should ever contain such sorrow.
“Are things really as bad as all that?” I said. “So you made a porn movie. Big deal. It doesn’t have to ruin your life, does it?”
“Doesn’t it? I’m a porn star, Bobby. That’s what I am now. There’s no getting away from it. Not these days. If I try to walk away, try to do something else, those films will still be there, on the internet, for any possible employer who wants to look for them.”
“Films,” I said. “Plural. You mean there’s more than one?”
“Well, duh! Do you think I did a three-on-one with DP as my first movie? Come on. If you and Mom really do watch porn together, which I still don’t believe—” she flashed me that familiar, evil, shit-eating grin “—then you know girls don’t do that kind of thing until later on.”
“So how many are we talking about then?”
She shrugged again. “Dunno. I haven’t kept count. More than ten. Actually, it might be more than twenty. I’ve done at least one a month, usually more, every month for the past year or so. Ever since I turned eighteen, really.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That many?”
She nodded. “Since you do watch porn, I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to find out now that I think about it. But honestly, it never occurred to me that you would find out. I didn’t think people of your age were into that kind of thing.”
“My age? That kind of thing? What kind of thing? Sex? Or Porn? And how old do you think I am anyway.”
“I dunno. Forty or fifty-something. I suppose I should have known better though. There are old guys in the business too. That’s really popular according to Mel. And she knows her stuff.”
“What is? And who’s Mel?”
“Old guys with younger girls.” She paused, then huffed. “I’ve said that a lot, haven’t I? That I should have known better. But I should. I should have known better about a lot of things. I must seem like a stupid, naive little girl to you.”
“Naive, maybe. But I know you’re not stupid.”
She huffed again then went silent as she tucked into another slice of pizza. We had the news channel on the television in the background and we briefly discussed one of the stories that had been mentioned. Then there was an item about a big concert in London by some American singer, so we talked about that for a while.
All too soon the pizza was eaten and the beer drunk.
“It’s getting late,” I said as I wiped my hands on my napkin.
“Late? It’s only just gone nine.”
“That’s late for an old bloke like me,” I said with a grin. “It’s been a long week.”
“And a longer evening,” she said, sounding downhearted.
“Has it really been that bad?” I said. “Sure, it was a bit… awkward… at first, but the time has flown by since the pizza arrived.”
“True. And I have missed this. Friday Night Pizza.”
“Me too.” I smiled. “But it is getting late, and it has been a long week. So I’m going to go and have a shower and get ready for bed. I might catch up on some reading or something for an hour.”
She nodded.
“You going out?” I asked.
“No, but I might stay up and see what’s on the telly.”
“Okay, but keep the volume below fifteen so I don’t have to come and moan at you to turn it down.”
She laughed as I got up to leave the room. “Sure thing, Old Man.”
“Hey,” I said, wagging a finger at her. “Watch it.”
When I got to the doorway, Dom said, “Bobby, you should know that I’m not going to stop.”
I turned back to face her. “Stop?”
“Doing porn. Just because you know now doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. The thing is… I like it. I like sex. It feels good. I like fucking on camera. I like taking on porn studs with big dicks that give me multiple orgasms. I like having my hair and makeup done and then having my hair pulled and my makeup ruined. I like wearing nice clothes and sexy undies—even if I don’t get to keep them on for very long. I like being told I’m hot and sexy and beautiful. I like the attention. And I absolutely love the money. I know I said that if you told Mom she’d throw me out and I’d have to live on the street, but I really wouldn’t be homeless. Far from it. Even doing one or two a month I’m earning enough to stand on my own two feet if I wanted to. If I was willing to do more… Hell, I could even up sticks and move to California. To Porn Valley. Jim says I could make a fortune over there. So I’m not going to stop. I just thought you should know.”
“Who’s Jim?”
“The producer I work for.”
I nodded. “And there’s no way I can stop you, is there?”
She shook her head. “You can make things easier for me though.”
“How?”
“Don’t tell Mom. She doesn’t need to know. What’s that old saying? What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her? If you don’t tell her, she won’t find out. And she won’t get hurt.”
“But if she did find out and then she found out I knew…” I shook my head. “I don’t have a choice, Dom. I don’t have a choice.”
She looked away from me and muttered, “Fine.”
I waited another few seconds to see if she was going to say anything else, but when she didn’t I went upstairs and headed for the en-suite.
Emma and I had an en-suite bathroom with a shower more than big enough for two. We made use of it occasionally—more so in the first couple of years but we still took a shower together some weekends—staying under the water for as long as we liked.
But tonight I had the shower to myself. Or at least, I thought I did.
I’d been under the water for a good ten minutes, enjoying the heat of the spray. I was facing away from the showerhead to wash the shampoo from my hair, with my head tipped back and my eyes closed, when I felt her presence. I wiped the suds from my eyes, opened them and found Dom standing in front of me, naked, with her hands on hips and smiling.
I froze—my hands still in my hair. What the hell was she doing? Like I couldn’t guess. This was wrong. This was so wrong. She was my stepdaughter. My stepdaughter. In my head, she was still the geeky fourteen-year-old I’d first met. Okay, that’s a lie, in my head she was a sulky teenage bitch that made the part of my life with her in it hell…
But damn it, she was sexy. She really did have the body of a porn star. Long, lithe legs. Taut tummy but without those washboard abs that looked great on a bloke but wrong on a girl. Great big boobs that hung in the way only natural boobs can. And small seductive smile and a hungry glint in her eyes that said she knew what she wanted and knew I was going to give it to her—even if it was against my better judgement.
“Dom… Dom, what… What are you doing?”
Her smile widened a touch and she said quietly, confidently, “Shower scene.”
She stepped forward, arms reaching out to my hips and pulled herself closer to me. I tried to back away, but I had nowhere to go.
“Dom… We shouldn’t… This isn’t a good—”
“Shush,” she said as she put a finger to my lips. “Tell me honestly this isn’t what you wanted when you first saw that video. Tell me you didn’t think it was hot. Tell me you didn’t see yourself slamming away between my legs when you watched and wanked. Tell me you didn’t wish it was your dick in my mouth instead of one of those big black cocks.”
I shook my head. “Dom… I—”
“I said, Shush.” Then she kissed me. The hand she’d used to quiet me snaked down between us and gripped my cock, which by now was a thick chunk of hard meat.
“Hmmm,” she moaned into my mouth. “That’s big! So thick!”
She stroked my cock slowly, clearly enjoying the feel of my thick dick in her hands, and kissed me just as slowly and deliberately.
“Are you sure I can’t persuade you not to tell Mom? Sure there’s nothing I can do?”
I groaned. Her eyes flashed.
“Just think, Bobby… You could have your very own porn star fuck toy. Whenever and wherever you wanted. You could sneak into my room when Mom’s asleep and pound the living shit out of me. You could bend me over the kitchen table when she’s shopping and take my arsehole. Say the word, any time at all, and I’ll sink to my knees and suck your dick like only a professional can.”
I groaned again as she snaked out her tongue to lick my lips.
“And all you need to do is,” she said, her eyes wide, “Don’t. Tell. Mom. Okay?”
She kissed me quickly, then sank slowly to her knees, trailing her tongue down my body as she did, until she was face to face with my cock.
“My Gawd, look at this. This is a nice dick, Bobby. Thick as a tree and plenty long enough. Damn it, you could be a porn-stud yourself with a dick like this.” She took the head into her mouth and sucked, then licked from the head to the base and back again. “Would you like that, Bobby? Would you like to be a porn star like me?”
I groaned as she licked around the head, down to the base and then back up to swirl her tongue around the head again.
“Would you like fucking a string of sexy young porn stars on camera? I told you that the young girls and old men thing was popular. Well, tiny girls with fucking huge dicks like this is even more popular.”
She took me as far into her mouth as she could. My cock head nudged against the back of her mouth, against the entrance to her throat. But far from gagging, she simply pulled off slowly, sucking hard as she did, until only the head was in her mouth. Then back down she went, all the way again until I once again bumped up against her throat.
My ex-wife gave great head. It was one of the reasons I married her.
Dom was better.
She was simply incredible. She’d said she’d do it like only a professional could, but I doubt any professional was this enthusiastic about their work.
I closed my eyes, leaned back against the cold tiles and savoured the skill with which she sucked and licked and stroked my dick. There was no way I was going to last long under this… assault. There’s no other word for it. It was an all-out assault worthy of any war commander. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it and nothing was going to stop her.
I put one hand on her head, gripped her hair and held on like a kid on a roller-coaster because this was one wild, wild ride.
And just when I was on the very edge of giving her what she so obviously wanted… She stopped, pulling her mouth off me with an audible pop.
I opened my eyes and looked down to see her smiling up at me. A smile coming from her eyes as much as her mouth. A self-satisfied smile that said she knew exactly what she was doing, that she loved what she was doing and that she knew she had me exactly where she wanted me.
That smile almost brought me back to my senses. Almost reminded me just who she was. Almost made me stop, get out out of the shower and walk away from my stepdaughter.
We shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this. Not with Dom. But damn it, I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. I’m as red-blooded as the next man and when a nineteen-year-old goddess like Dom was on her knees looking up at you, the rational part of your brain just kind of… switches off… and the raw, primal part rears up to make its roar heard.
Seeing her there, crouching in front of me, with a smile on her face and my dick in her hand, I had visions of that damn video flash in front of my eyes. Visions of her sucking one cock while riding another. Visions of her with a dick lodged in her rectum. Visions of her stuffed so full of man-meat it was threatening to come out of her ears. And I knew that could be my cock she was riding. My dick in her arse.
And I wanted it.
I wanted her.
She must have sensed that any resolve I had left had crumbled because she stood up, turned around and braced herself against the opposite wall to the one I was leaning against. With her legs apart, she stuck her backside out towards me, looked over her shoulder and, with a smouldering, seductive look in her eyes, she said, “Fuck me, Bobby.”
And that was the moment my life changed.
Eyes glazed, mind numb, I stepped up behind her and put one hand on her hip to hold her steady, held my prick in my other hand and rubbed it up and down and between the folds of her pussy until it notched into place at the entrance to her heaven.
One thrust was all it took to bury myself inside her right up to my balls. Her head shot up and back and she cried out. Then she groaned and pushed back against my invasion.
“Oh yeah,” she moaned. “Come on, Bobby, fuck me. Fuck me hard. Hard and fast. Show me you’re a real man.”
So I fucked her. I fucked her hard and I fucked her fast. I was lost to the lust that had been steadily building inside me ever since her face had appeared on the television downstairs.
I held onto her hips and slammed into her with all the energy I had and she pushed back against every thrust just as hard. It was raw. It was animalistic. It was primal.
I wasn’t me, I was a porno-stud. I wasn’t fucking Dom Jackson. I was fucking Dominique D’Ville, Britain’s newest, brightest porn star.
And I felt like a God among men.
The water ran cold but it didn’t matter—we were generating our own heat. Steam rose from her back as my hips slapped against her arse on each violent thrust—the sound like a thunderclap in the confined space of the shower.
Until, finally, I could take no more. I don’t know if she came. I didn’t care. All I cared about was reaching my own release. My own nirvana. My own orgasm.
And it came upon me with all the usual signs.
My thrusts became more urgent. More frenzied. I lost my rhythm. Lost control. I powered into her in a desperate attempt to reach the finishing line.
And then I was there. I roared out my desire as my cum gushed out of me and into her. One, two, three forceful pulses. Filling her up. One of her hands came back to grab my hip. To hold me inside her while I fired my penetrating love-gun.
Then it was over. I was spent.
Breathing heavily, I released her hips and stumbled back. My dick slipped out of her cunt and a torrent of my semen spilt out of her and washed down the drain with the rest of the water.
I tipped my head back and muttered, “Damn, that was…”
“Too right it was,” she replied.
She turned off the shower and stepped up close to me, rubbing her glorious tits against my chest. “So Big Bobby… Do we have a deal?”
“Deal?” My brain hadn’t yet recovered.
“You won’t tell Mom about my… er… career and I become your own little fuck-toy?”
I stared through her, my eyes unfocused. “I guess we do.”
She smiled. “Good. Because if you did tell her, I’d have to tell her you fucked me. And who do you think she’d be more upset with then?”
I blinked. “You little bit—”
“Now, now.” She put her finger to my lips. “No need to get upset. I’ll keep up my end of the deal. Whenever and wherever. I just needed an insurance policy, that’s all.”
She kissed me, and despite knowing I was being blackmailed, despite having just fucked the living daylights out of both of us, I felt myself rising to the occasion once again.
“Hmm,” she moaned when her hand found my renewed desire. “Feels like someone’s up for going all night. Tell you what, how about I lie back on that big bed of yours and mom’s and let you feast on me first. Then I’ll lie you back and take my turn.”
It was a long night, and it would have been longer still had I been ten or fifteen years younger.
First, she did indeed lie back on the bed I shared with her mother and I ate her to a couple of orgasms while she screamed like a banshee and creamed over my face. Then I crawled up, impaled her on my dick and pounded that pretty pussy of hers into the same mattress on which her mother regularly took a similar pounding.
After I came inside for the second time of the evening we had a rest in the form of a cuddle before she turned that talented mouth to getting me up for round three, in which she showed me she really knew how to ride a cock cowgirl style (and, indeed, reverse cowgirl style).
But at my age, there are only so many bullets in the cum-gun, and even a fellatrix of Dom’s calibre couldn’t continue to revive me indefinitely. I finally passed out as she trying her damnedest to do just that around two in the morning.
And boy did I sleep well. I always did after sex. And the better the sex, the better I slept.
That was the best sleep I’d had in ages.
I woke with a start the next morning when I felt a sharp pain in my arsehole. I heard a slight gagging noise, followed by the sound of someone breathing deliberately through their nose. I opened my eyes and looked down my body to find the covers had been thrown off the bed and a blonde-haired head hovering over my crotch.
It was then that I realised two things in quick succession. First, I’d just shoved my dick down Dom’s throat when my hips jerked as I woke, and even though she probably wasn’t expecting it, she’d coped with it with aplomb. And second, the reason I’d jerked awake was that Dom had shoved a finger up my arse.
So given she’d been responsible for the second, maybe she was expecting the first after all.
She pulled up off my cock and withdrew her finger slowly at the same time.
“Morning,” she said with a grin. “You’d sleep through a war, you would. I’ve been sucking this thing for ten minutes and hardly gotten a reaction—aside from the obvious.” She squeezed my hard cock with her hand. “So I improvised. It worked too.”
I couldn’t believe what she did next. She actually put the finger that had just been in my rectum in her mouth and sucked it clean. I blinked and stared as she smiled around her finger.
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, in the video I’d seen of her last night, she’d sucked two big dicks straight after they’d been withdrawn from her rectum.
Still, that was her rectum.
The memory of the video reminded me of just what a messed up situation I now found myself in. My stepdaughter was a porn star. And her mother didn’t know. Her father did though because he was the one that had led her into this… profession. But he also wasn’t on the scene any more, having vanished after he’d used Dom to pay off his debts.
On top of that, I’d allowed myself to be blackmailed into not telling my wife that her daughter was a porn star after fucking said porn star.
Oh, yes, I’d fucked Dominique D’Ville the porn star, not Dom Jackson my stepdaughter, remember. At least, that’s how I’d seen it in the shower last night. And in the bed afterwards.
Yep—things were indeed pretty fucked up.
I should tell Emma. I really should. Sure, it might well be the end of my marriage, but she deserved to know the mess her daughter was in. Didn’t she?
“I hope you’re not thinking of telling Mom,” Dom said. “Because that would be really stupid.”
“She needs to know, Dom.”
“No. She doesn’t.” She started to stroke my cock slowly. Then she looked at it with an expression that could be described as reverence. Or, at least, admiration.
“You really do have a beautiful cock,” she said. “Long but not too long, you know? I did a scene with this one guy who was, like, eleven inches or something and it wasn’t great. For one, he couldn’t get all of it inside me. He kept banging it against my cervix and it hurt. And the damn thing so big that it didn’t really get all that hard. The other girls warned me about it and said it was him and not me, you know? Like it wasn’t because he didn’t fancy me or anything, but just because he couldn’t get enough blood into it to keep it really hard. But, you know, way to hurt a girl’s ego. Getting fucked with a half-hard dick isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever done.
“Still, I know you don’t have that problem. Last night it was like a steel bar or something. And it’s the same now!
“But it’s how thick it is that’s really impressive. I meant what I said, you know. You could be a huge star with a dick like this, if you’ll pardon the pun.” She chuckled at her own joke. “Big dicks in tiny girls is really popular, as is older guys with younger girls. And you’d fit into both! It’d be like, you’d have your own genre or something. Seriously, this thing is so thick it’d make some of the girls in the business look even smaller than they actually are!”
I was going to reply, but she decided to put that mouth of hers to better use than talking and soon my cock was once again nudging against the entrance to her throat.
We fucked. Did I really need to say that? It was pretty obvious where it was going, right? Well, if it wasn’t, it should have been. Have you been paying attention at all?
Anyway, we fucked, then something remarkable happened. Something that I don’t ever remember happening before. Dom made me breakfast.
And it was good.
Okay, so it’s pretty difficult to get bacon, sausage, egg, beans and toast wrong, but still…
And, over breakfast, we watched the morning news and made small talk. It was all very pleasant and domestic. All very normal. Apart from the fact that Dom had thrown on one of my white work shirts before coming downstairs and that was all she was wearing. And she didn’t even bother doing up all the buttons—just the bottom two.
But aside from the abundance of flesh she put on display, we could have been any stepfather and stepdaughter in the country having breakfast on a Saturday morning.
Although, I do wonder how many stepfathers had the sort of thoughts about their stepdaughters that I was having. For example, as she took the plates over to the dishwasher after we’d finished eating, her arse was on display and moved so enticingly that all I could think of was ramming my dick into her from behind.
And then she bent over to put the plates in the rack on the bottom tray and her sexy little pussy winked at me. Her lips were still slightly open from the session upstairs not too long ago. They looked plump and moist and there was a little bit of my spunk still between them.
And that was all it took. I stood up, pretty much ran over to her, pushed my shorts down and slammed my cock into her.
She just about had time to brace herself against the kitchen worktop and stop herself from being pushed into the dishwasher.
I took her roughly, with no thought to her pleasure at all… Only mine.
And yet she still gave every indication that she enjoyed it. She pushed back against each thrust. She moaned and grunted. She urged me on, muttering, “That’s it, fuck me, you bastard. Fuck me with that fat cock!”
Obviously, she was now under the impression that the dialogue written for porn movies was realistic and to be used in real life.
But, more importantly, she came. Hard. Twice.
The girl was quite simply multi-orgasmic. She just loved sex. Either that or she was a really talented actress. And forgive me for my ignorance, but I’ve always been under the impression that acting ability wasn’t high on the list of requirements for porn stars.
After I came inside her for the fifth time in about twelve hours, she turned around, straddled the dishwasher door, and let my cum drip out of her and in with the dirty dishes. And then she looked up at me with what I’d first thought of as an ‘evil’ grin but now recognised as just plain ‘naughty’, and said, “Damn! I have so got to get you an audition.”
Dom paraded around in just that white shirt for the rest of the morning. She didn’t even put any knickers on. Just as well really because they would only have gotten in the way. Let’s face it, Dom’s state of near nakedness kept me in a state of perpetual arousal and, frankly, I‘m surprised that I had enough self-control to only grab hold of her and fuck the shit out of her a total of four times before lunchtime.
I tried to keep myself busy with my usual Saturday morning routine. Ever since I’d had access to online banking, I’d taken to reconciling my bank statement with my card receipts every weekend. And this had only gotten easier now I had a banking app on my phone. And as well as our private accounts, Emma and I also kept a joint account to pay the household bills from, and it was my job to manage that and determine if we needed to top it up mid-month in addition to our regular monthly contributions.
But this fairly simple task took well over twice as long as it should have because halfway through, Dom bought a cup of tea into my study, which led to me sitting her on my desk to eat her out before bending her over the desk to take her roughly from behind.
The girl was something of a sex maniac. She loved it. Or at least, that was the impression she gave. She may just have been trying to prove that I really could have her Whenever and Wherever, but I honestly think it was more than that. Why else was she showing herself off for me all morning? Not just wearing that shirt, but bending over to show me her pussy whenever she could find an excuse to do so. Or bending forward to give me a look down her cleavage.
At one point, shortly after I’d closed my laptop and wandered into the kitchen to make another cup of tea, she called to me from upstairs.
“Bobby? Bobby, have you finished? I need you!”
I went upstairs to find her naked on her bed, legs spread with two fingers spearing in and out of her twat.
You don’t need me to tell you what happened next.
It was weird because I’d never really thought of Dom in a sexual way before. Sure, I knew she was gorgeous and I was aware in a kind of disconnected way that she had a great body but, in my mind, she’d always been that fourteen-year-old girl that Emma had first nervously introduced me to.
But now…
Now that fourteen-year-old was long gone and in her place was a young woman in her absolute prime. A woman who simply oozed sex-appeal from every pore. Every orifice. A woman that I just had to have as often as I possibly could.
Everything about her simply screamed sex. I couldn’t quite believe I’d never noticed it before because now that my awareness of her as a sexual creature had been awoken, it was blatantly obvious.
From her long, shapely, toned legs which were made to be wrapped around a man’s waist or hoisted over his shoulders, to her tight, round arse which you just wanted to squeeze and spank.
From her tummy, which was almost flat but not overly muscular with instead a hint of true feminine shape, to those boobs, so naturally big with that near-perfect natural tear-drop shape as opposed to the silicone balls you so often saw on celebrities these days.
From those lips, so plump and sensual, that looked like they were made for sucking cock, to those smoky eyes, so full of lust and desire.
She was a sexual firecracker. The perfect porn star.
And I got to fuck her and would continue to get to fuck her, whenever and wherever I wanted, in any way I wanted.
And then my phone rang.
“Emma! Hi!”
“Hi. Sorry I didn’t call earlier. It’s been a long morning, you know?”
Yes, it had been a long morning, but for some reason, it seemed to have flown by.
“Tell me about it. Are you still at the hospital?”
“No, I’ve come back to Mom’s place. It looks like she might be in for a while so she’s sent me to get a few things for her.”
“What’s… What’s she done?”
“Fractured hip. It could have been worse than it is but she’s a tough old bird, you know? She’s going in for surgery later today and they should be able to discharge her sometime in the middle of the week. Maybe earlier with a bit of luck.”
“So…” I suppressed a groan, “…are you staying up there with her then?”
“Do you mind? Luckily, it’s half term next week, but I know you’d booked the week off too so we could spend some time together. Weren’t you looking at booking a few days away somewhere?”
“I was looking, yes.” Again I suppressed a groan. Emma was bound to notice something at this rate. “But I hadn’t booked anywhere yet.”
“Are you okay, Bobby? You sound… I don’t know, distracted.”
Yes, I was distracted. Dom was currently on her knees between my spread legs, gently nursing my erection like a baby with a bottle.
“I’m fine, Emma.”
“Oh. Okay. You know, you could come up here if you wanted. At least we’d get to spend some time together.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea? Your mother is not exactly my biggest fan.”
“True. But I was looking forward to spending some proper alone time with you—if you know what I mean. Guess we’ll just have to do it next time. Okay, well, I’ll call as often as I can but I might not be back home until next weekend now. Someone will need to stay with Mom for a few days when she comes out of the hospital, just to make sure she can cope.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“Is Dom there? Can I talk to her?”
“Hang on.” I pulled the phone down from my ear and called out loudly, “Dom! Your Mom’s on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”
Dom looked up at me from between my legs and grinned. I held on to the phone for another thirty seconds or so—enough time to make it seem as if Dom had come downstairs from her room, then passed the handset to her. She took it in one hand and continued to stroke my cock with the other.
“Hi, Mom. How’s Gran?” She continued to wank me as she listened to her mother—my wife—speaking. “Really? That’s terrible.” Her hand started to move faster and I squirmed under her attention. I really wasn’t far off. “So you’re staying up there with her, then?” My breathing was getting heavy. I tipped my head back and squeezed my eyes shut. “Yes, I’m behaving myself. Bobby and I are getting on really well. Just like we used to, before… Well, before.” I looked down at her again as she pumped my cock faster and faster. I was convinced she wanted to get me to shoot off while Emma was still on the phone.
She succeeded.
I clamped my mouth shut to stop from crying out as my spunk cannon fired its load. The first blast hit Dom on the nose before she angled my dick down so that the rest of it landed on her ample chest.
“Okay, I’ll tell him. See you next weekend. Bye.”
She clicked the button to hang up the call and tossed the phone onto the floor beside her. Then she leaned forward and licked my cock clean.
“Well,” she said with a naughty little smirk and a tone that sounded like a nineteen-sixties children’s movie, “It looks like we have all week to ourselves. I wonder, what on Earth shall we do?”
Well, first of all, I made her get dressed. If she’d have worn just that white shirt of mine and nothing else for the rest of the day, I think I may have ended up having a heart attack from over-exertion. The problem, of course, was that the sartorial choice she made from her wardrobe was hardly conservative. Short tartan skirt, black knee-high socks and low cut white top—pretty much what you’d expect from a porn star if I’m honest. Still, at least her pussy wasn’t constantly on view.
I considered taking her out to lunch—to celebrate our reconciliation if that’s what you want to call it. But as soon as I saw her outfit I knew that was out of the question. Anyone that knew me, but didn’t know Dom, might well have thought I’d hired an escort or something if they saw us out together. So I fetched us a McDonald’s from the local drive-thru and we ate at the kitchen dining table just like we had with the pizza the night before.
And just like the night before, we talked. Only her side of the conversation was laced with much more innuendo this time around.
But there was something I wanted to know. Something I needed to know.
“Dom,” I asked, putting my Big Mac down and resting my chin on my hands. “Last night, when you were telling me how you ended up in this… er… industry. We got interrupted. First by your Mom—”
“And then by the pizza!”
I nodded. “And then by the pizza. And then… Look, the point is, you never finished the story. You never said how you went from doing bikini and underwear shoots to… you know.”
“Pornos. It’s okay. You can say it, I won’t be offended. I’m a porn star. I make porn films. Fuck flicks. Hardcore smut.”
“Yes, yes. Okay. You might not be embarrassed, but—”
“Who says I’m not embarrassed? I mean, I’m not about to tell Mom or Gran about it, am I? And it’s not the sort of thing I’d put on my C.V. if I was applying for a proper job, you know. Star of over fifty hardcore pornographic movies.”
“Over fifty? Last night you said twenty.”
She shrugged. “I told you last night, I don’t know. I haven’t exactly kept count. And I know that sometimes I do one shoot and they make more than one video out of it. So I really don’t know how many there are out there.”
I shook my head. “Okay, whatever. So how did you make the move into hardcore fuck flicks?” I grinned at her and she grinned back. “How old were you for a start? Did they at least wait until you were eighteen?”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Of course they did. They made a bit of a big deal of it actually. The first one I did, they had me hold up my driving licence to the camera. They blurred out all the personal stuff apart from my photo, which is awful but those photos always are, and my date of birth.”
“Okay, that’s a relief. I suppose. At least they saw sense to wait until it was legal for you to do these kinds of films.”
“Well, duh! Believe it or not, it’s actually a pretty professional outfit. The shoots are not sleazy or anything like that. The producer, Jim, is a great guy. He looks after his girls, makes sure we’re all happy. He makes us take regular health checks, you know, for STDs and stuff. He’s a good guy. I don’t think some of the distributors he works with or some of his investors are quite as nice—these are the same people Dad owed money to, remember? But Jim’s all right.”
“If you say so. But you still haven’t—”
“There’s no big secret to it. I was nearly sixteen when Dad first introduced me to Jim. It was about a year later that I moved from the fully clothed shoots to the bikinis and underwear. By then there were always other girls hanging around and I got friendly with a couple of them. One in particular, Melanie, I became really good friends with and she clued me in one night when we went back to her place after a night out.
“And before you ask, yes, we had sex.” She rolled her eyes again. “All porn stars are bi-sexual and we all have sex with each other at every opportunity.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But you were thinking it. I could see it in your eyes.” She grinned. “Anyway, she told me that as well as the stuff I was doing for Jim, which was mostly for online retailers’ websites but also ended up on fashion blogs and stuff, he was involved with more what she called adult stuff. I asked what she meant and she said that he shot for online retailers who sold kinky underwear and shit like that, but also did everything from topless photo-sets that he sold on his own websites, to fully naked photo-sets and masturbation stuff—you know, with dildos and stuff. He did photos and videos of that. And when I asked her she admitted he did full-on hardcore stuff too.” She shrugged. “She said I could do as little or as much as I wanted. That Jim wouldn’t pressure me to do anything I didn’t feel comfortable with. If I wanted to just carry on doing fashion shoots, then that would be fine, he had a couple of girls, and guys, that only did that. But… The more I was prepared to do, the more I’d get paid.”
I nodded. “So no-one pressured you into anything? You’re sure about that? It’s one thing to say they’re not going to pressure you, but then these people have ways of applying pressure and manipulating you that you probably wouldn’t even recognise.”
“Well, no-one ever threatened me. They never said, you’ve got to do this or else or anything like that. But they never really had to. You know the sort of people I was hanging around with by then. I wasn’t exactly a virgin and, honestly, I liked sex. So I figured if I could get paid for doing it, why the hell not, you know?
“Mel must have said something to Jim, because after this one bikini shoot about three months before my eighteenth birthday, he asked me to meet him in his office and we sat down and he basically told me pretty much what Mel had, and asked me what I wanted to do.”
“And you said?”
“I said I wanted it all. That I’d do whatever I could. He just smiled at me and said he was going to make me a star. Well, kind of. I mean, it’s not like I’m ever gonna be going to the Oscars or some shit like that, but he said he can make me a star in the porn world.”
“Bet you loved that though.”
“Hell, yeah! He did something he said he’d never been able to do before, because usually when girls come to him looking to get into porn, they are already over eighteen. But with me being still seventeen he was able to set up a page for me on one of his websites—he’s got loads that do all different types of porn, but the one he set up my page on concentrates on new girls. You know? Girls doing their first couple of videos. Well, he set up this page that had a countdown to my eighteenth birthday on it, then another one set for a couple of days later, when Jim had scheduled my first shoot, and then a third countdown to the release date of the video itself.” She grinned. “He said he got more hits on that page, and made more money from that first video, than anything else he’d ever done.”