So, you know that dogfart-boring Percy Jackson movie? My dad worked on it.
Was paid to work on it, I should say. My dad never worked a confirmed day in his life. It doesn’t matter what he was supposed to do on Percy Jackson, their best-case scenario is that he did absolutely nothing and let someone else do his job. Instead he got fired, drank a 30-case of Miller Lite with his severance, then went on a drunken rampage that ended with a prop trident smashed through director Chris Columbus’s windshield. As cops dragged him away, he vowed to never work in Hollywood again…a vow that Hollywood was only too happy to help him keep via an industry-wide blacklist.
All that remains of my dad’s failed Hollywood career is the box of 35mm Kodak tapes he stole from the Percy Jackson dailies room. He disappeared five years ago, and the box ended up in my dorm.
I had no idea what, exactly, Dad had filmed on the tapes. He’d never discussed them. He was a man of few words, most of them racial slurs.
A month ago, I decided to throw them out. First, I rented a telecine machine from the Pomona film lab, and watched a few. I didn’t expect much.
I assumed they’d be boring and contain nothing of interest or importance.
Alexandra Daddario had stripped to her underwear in my dorm room.
“If I take off my bra, will you give me the tapes?”
She was bossy, bitchy, and beautiful. Her mouth lay in a moody pout. She’d twisted her brown hair into a chignon braid that rested on her shoulder, like a lash to beat me with.
“Mmm…” I thumbed my phone on my bed, pretending to ignore her.
“I was hoping for a yes.” She scowled, and set her hands on her hips. She appeared unused to men ignoring her. Her mascara-bladed eyes narrowed. “Seriously, what do you want? I need those tapes.”
I remained silent. She swung a pale, shaven thigh up onto the bed next to me. She was long and leggy, a lethal switchblade of a woman. Big tits, narrow waist, big ass. She emoted with incredible force in that actress fashion. Her eyes seared with fragile vulnerability, then in the next moment flayed flesh from bone. If eyes are the window to the soul, hers were an IMAX screen.
My eyes flicked to consider her bare thigh, then went back to my phone.
“Ehh…”
Her fists clenched in anger.
She’d knocked on the door to my dorm twenty minutes ago, and still hadn’t gotten what she wanted. Already, that likely constituted a mythically bad day for her.
She’d arrived for our “date” dressed in a boyish pin-tuck vest and matching slacks. Her thick, obscene body—nearly bursting seams at hip and bust—hadn’t looked boyish in the slightest.
The clothes were now folded neatly on my counterpane. She’d unbuttoned the vest, pulling it open to reveal a pale fleshtone bra, overflowing with jiggling cleavage. Big cups, bigger fuckjugs. I tried to avoid eye contact with her breasts. She’d kicked off her shin-height calfskin boots on the floor, splattering my textbooks with mud from the driveway outside. The boots were so huge and tall that they half-crumpled at the sides beneath their own weight. I badly wanted to sniff the insides. Chewing gum insouciantly, she’d unbuttoned her slacks, and peeled them down her thighs. Her exposed legs gleamed like unsheathed swords. I lay in bed, acting cool, while my heart tried to escape my chest like it was Stalag Luft III.
It took tremendous effort not to be overwhelmed by her raw physicality. Her flesh was a crackling high-voltage taser slammed into my limbic system.
I’d write she owned the room, but let’s be real: that’s not a high bar to clear. I’m broke. And in college. Five bucks and a valid Alexander Hall parking ticket could have owned my room.
I had only one valuable possession, and she wouldn’t get it from me cheap.
I yawned. “Sorry, it was a late night. Honestly, I haven’t thought about what I want from you.”
Stay calm, I told myself as she lorded over me. While you have the tapes, you have leverage. It doesn’t matter that she’s a star and you’re a nobody. Hand them over, and you’ve got zero. Zilch. Don’t settle.
I would not settle. Like Walter White, I resolved to be in the empire business.
“I don’t believe you,” she tilted her head, staring down at me. “You’ve thought about it a lot.”
I shrugged.
Her breath sang in my ear. “How about I take off the bra, then you hand them over? That sound like a fair trade?”
I looked up from my phone.
“I think my preference would be for something… involving me touching you.” I shrugged. “I can see you naked any time I want. Unless Google went down in the past half hour.”
“Asshole.”
“That’s your counteroffer? That escalated pretty fast, but sure, okay.”
Her mouth twitched. A brief smile, which she killed faster than Chris Columbus had killed my dad’s Hollywood career.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking to me like that. Especially considering…well…everything.”
She gestured contemptuously at the SpongeBob bong beside my mattress.
“That’s my roommate Steve’s,” I said, unconvincingly.
Next, she arched an inquisitive eyebrow at the wall. Someone had tossed a wet sock against the wall, and it had stuck there as if glued, dangling like a modern art exhibit.
“Uh, that’s Steve’s too,” I said.
Alexandra yawned. “This is getting annoying. I drove an hour to your crappy little clown college for those tapes. So you want to do something sexual. Fine. I’ll hear your offer, at least.”
Crappy little clown college. Pomona has a three billion dollar endowment. It ranks fifth for liberal arts. Alexandra Daddario’s definition of crappy has little overlap with yours or mine.
I twiddled my thumbs in my lap to disguise my erection.
“…I do have some, er, fantasies. But they’re pretty niche.”
“Doubtful!” She laughed. “You want to place your cock between my breasts, and fuck them. Is that right?”
She lifted her bra straps from her shoulders, tugging them from deep trenches of flesh. Her heavy shoulder-boulders rose and dropped, almost slopping out of the cups. They wobbled back and forth like plates of jelly.
I waited, then nodded. Tried to act like the thought had never occurred to me, but now that she mentioned it…
“…Will you?”
“No!” She crossed her arms over her chest, delighted that she had something to withhold. “That’s disgusting. Why is every boy a pornbrained idiot? I’m a human being, not a cum dumpster. If you think I’m going to spend three hours here, working over your entire bucket list with my body like I’m a girl in one of your Japanese mangos, forget it!”
Japanese mangos? I frowned. Did she just say Japanese mangos?
I put the ball back in her court. “Listen, Alexandra, why don’t you do whatever you’re comfortable with? I’ll decide where that gets you.”
“Fine.” She snapped.
Her fingers flitted back to her bra straps. She deftly unhooked the multiple clasps holding her heavy rack in check.
I held my breath as the straps whispered, unslinging themselves from her shoulders. The fleshtone bra slid away, dropping off her torso. It fell to the floor like a shot waxwing, too pure and clean for my grungy carpet.
I glimpsed the tag. 32F.
“I’m topless.” She crossed her arms over her exposed breasts. The big meaty globes bulged out beneath her flattening forearms. “Give me the tapes.”
“Take away your arms.” I leaned back to admire her.
Alexandra rolled her eyes sardonically, then let her arms fall to her sides.
Two huge, heavy breasts flopped down her sternum, jolting to a stop. Her nipples jiggled back and forth, as if spring-loaded.
I drew in the longest breath of my life as I watched her tits settle. A breath so slow that by the time I was done breathing it in, I already needed another one.
Her tits bobbled, huge and naked, two big pendulous sacks of meat that spilled down her chest. They hung low, round, pale, and glossy as blobs of molten candlewax. They were lightly iridized with angry perspiration.
“Give me the tapes.” She spat out the alveolar plosive of tape, causing her huge tits to quiver.
“Let me touch them.” Her nipples were calling out for me. The surfaces gleamed, capturing smeary distorted reflections on my room. I saw the Spongebob bong as a splash of yellow.
Alexandra sighed again as I stepped forward, and clasped both breasts in my grubby palms.
I squeezed her huge bulbous tits like a pair of stress balls. Rolls of titflesh spewed between my fingers as I tightened them, receding like a tide as I relaxed my grip. They were firm, squeezable and fun. Like, well, mangos.
“You’re so pretty,” I said.
Maybe she blushed. I wasn’t looking at her face. All I know is that sudden hotness seemed to surge across the surface of her tits.
“Give. Me. The. Tape.” She growled, her voice now low and full of gravel. “Hey, what the hell…!”
I planted my face between her tits, mashing my cheeks and nose into their soft, pliant surfaces. I ran my tongue out, tasting salty sweat, dragging saliva down the channel of cleavage between them. Then I opened my mouth and began softly chewing her mountains of mammary meat. I felt blue veins under my tongue, fluttering with her heartbeat. Her nipples dragged against my mouth, catching on my tongue. They swelled up, engorging as I tasted them. The air conditioning must be too cold, I thought. Then I remembered that the air conditioning had been broken for six months..
“Hello? Give me the tape.” She snarled as I slurped her tits.
When my boob-muffled mmgghhhffff sound proved unsatisfactory, she shoved my face off her breasts.
“Look, this is so fucking lame.” She said. “Let’s just skip to the end. I’ll blow you. I’ll suck your dick. That sound good?”
I decided not to kick the tires with her any further.
“Yeah. It does.”
I sat back down and unzipped my stonewashed jeans. My erect cock burst through the zipper like a kaiju monster: a mushroom-capped mass of flesh that catapulted into the air, dangling heavily before her face.
Veins churned along its length like blood-written graffiti. I stared at her breasts and my erection throbbed, belching out precum. I felt the liquid slide from my glans, down my shaft, then get lost in the rubbery tangled flesh of my ballsack.
“A blowjob sounds pretty good.” I agreed spreading my legs.
She made an expression that was eighty percent a scowl and twenty percent a smirk, and swung her body onto mattress beside me.
Alexandra Daddario sat next to me, crossing one leg over another in a flash of white calf. Her hand darted into my lap. Her pink lacquered fingers found my prick. They pumped it once, then twice. Her hand pulled and tugged, producing ruptures of nerve-wracking pleasure that wandered through my body like storms. I squirmed, wanting to curl up like a snail. I was so scared.
She tucked her loose braid back into itself so it wouldn’t swing.
Then she sunk her head forward. Into my lap.
My breath stopped. Alexandra Daddario’s busty torso hung suspended over my crotch, filling the air with the heat of her swinging tits and the dab of perfume in her neck and armpits. A single strand of brown hair coiled a loop on a leg that was quivering in explosions of gooseflesh.
“Tap my leg before you shoot,” she rasped. “I hate it when men cum in my mouth.”
She fell into my lap like a guillotine.
Alexandra Daddario landed on me, riding her hot pink lips down my shaft. Her tongue poked out, dragging a hot slash that made me gasp. Both of her fat, heavy tits flattened out like bags of hot meat on my thigh. squishhhhh
She lay on top of me, her feet and calves ticktocking back and forth as she played with my cock, flicking it back and forth. She smirked, giggling a bit at the hard, throbbing dick spearing up from my spread legs.
The beautiful actress submerged her face in my crotch, tasting my cock and balls. Her nostrils flared in disgust at the thick, musky stench.
“Been a while since I’ve showered,” I grunted at the back of her head. “Sorry.”
She sighed, as if to say that is a mild but not unworkable annoyance.
Her tongue leaped out from her pursed lips, wrapping like a slippery-moist python around my erection. The coil of muscle pulled one way, then the other, then forward. Her roseate-hued mouth swallowed my prick, lips folding like hot pink bubblegum over me.
As she began blowing me, I convulsed, seeing stars. My erection lurched, spitting precum against the groove of her tongue. Thoughts rattled around in my head, spun by the gale-force suction of her mouth.
She’s good.
To this day, I’m not sure when she started enjoying sucking my cock.
I doubt she did at the start. I’m sure she did at the end. Can’t tell you about the extended here-be-dragons stretch in the middle of the blowjob.
Who knows, anyway. She’s an actress.
sloorrrrrrp…
I watched her ivory-white cheeks hollow out in my crotch, applying devastating suction to my cock. I squirmed, ass-cheeks tensing. I couldn’t believe this was happening, least of all to me! Alexandra’s regal, Hollywood princess face just sank forward relentlessly, swallowing my veiny, disgusting prick between her lips. Inch after inch after inch after inch. Her lips took it all, slurping down my erection until her glistening lipstick lay in a ring at the throbbing base of my prick.
I heard a wet, smooching noise as the last of my cock curved back down her throat. It flexed, trapped in a black hole of searing pleasure. She had no gag reflex at all.
slurrrrrkkkkhh…
Deep-throated by Alexandra Daddario, I found my hands flexing and knotting in frantic need against the mattress. I was fighting to hold onto my load. Her mouth was unrelenting.
Gooey moist gurgling noises congealed in the fetid air as Alexandra slobbered forward onto me, facefucking herself against my crotch. Her aggressive plunges physically scraped away blush from her cheeks, plastering chalky residue on both my thighs.
An itch started in my prostate. I clenched my teeth.
Just as I was about to cum, she pulled back. Inches of thick erection slid free from her lips, wet and shiny. A low, ecstatic throb pulsed through my corpus cavernosum as her lips parted, finally letting my penis swing free.
My prick burst from her mouth, swinging like a crane. My cockhead slung a shining silver strand onto her tits as it whiplashed through air that felt so cold it burned.
Alexandra angled her head still lower, planting her face at my musky ballsack and rolling my balls between her lips and teeth. My cock skidded wetly between her nose and cheek as she pulled and tugging at my scrotal flesh. Sharp white teeth gnawed gently on my spermatic cord. She sucked my left testicle into her cheek, and began pummeling it with her tongue. I grunted, sweating. Her lipsticked mouth plopped it out, moist and sticky, only to suck the right one in. She flogged it brutally with her tongue.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Hurts like hell. I hope she never stops.
Then she slid her mouth off my ballsack and returned it to my prick, swallowing and sucking me off with whorish wantonness. Finding barriers, then crossing them. She wriggled her shoulders back and forth, dragging her tits across my thighs. Her nipples dug into my skin, hard as hollowpoints.
I slid my hands onto her skull, attempting to grab her braid and bounce her face up and down. Alexandra swatted it away.
She pulled her slobbery mouth far enough off my pole to speak. “It’s not a handle!” It’s nogg ah aggull! Then she faceplanted back down, grasping my spread thighs for support. I hissed as she drew my cock down her neck.
SHULKKHHH! BLOHUUKKKK! SKLOOORRRRRP!
It was… excruciating.
BLURRRKKKHH! GLOORKKKK! My toes twisted in pleasure as my bulging cock was choke-fucked down her flexing neck-pipe.
Alexandra nestled her head deep, plastering her perfect lips against the thick, hot root of my cock. Veins twitched.
She rocked her head back and forward, sending thick ropes of splattery drool pulsing from her slobbering lips. It dried cool on my skin. She slurped her mouth back by four inches. Enough that her head cleared my lap, and I saw the lewd ring of pink lipstick imprinted on the base of my cockstalk—
—then she pounded her face back down, and all I could see was the back of her head as she facefucked my heavy, pulsing prick.
GLORKKK GWWWWAKKKK SHLUCKK SPLAAKKKGUKK
My balls heaved, flexing up toward her mouth.
I was about to cum.
I munched popcorn, watching the first 35mm reel judder to life.
The first and second tapes were lighting tests from Percy Jackson’s preproduction. Two guys (Dad and someone else) setting up gear, and flicking through ARRIFLEX settings. It was the kind of behind-the-scenes stuff that’s worth a lot of money when the movie is Citizen Kane. The hitch being, of course, that the movie was not Citizen Kane. It was Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief.
Both tapes were duller than dogshit: I sped through 2x and regret every second of life they took from me. I saw a lot of plywood and sawdust. Occasionally Dad would flick a cigarette into frame; I’d place bets on how long it would take to burn down. Such were the meager joys.
I almost didn’t watch the third tape, which was very different.
Light blazed out, briefly saturating the frame. Then the camera lens focused on a narrow, cramped space, that appeared to be indoors. It was filming a room about ten feet a side. The walls and floor were bare and stark. It didn’t look like a building. Holes had been drilled in the external walls, and wires spilled through. There was an Ikea card table set up with playing cards fanned out on it. A filthy mattress lay on the floor. I could almost see bedbugs hopping. A naked lightbulb blared overhead, as unbearable as a thorn in the back of your brain. The entire top half of the frame was just a wash of light.
It looked like a serial killer’s dungeon. Am I about to watch a snuff film? I wondered, not very seriously.
Dad, for all his faults, was not a serial killer. For one thing, he lacked long-term planning, restraint, and skill with surgical tools.
I soon realized that I was looking at the inside of a large industrial packing crate. Dad had apparently salvaged one from set and converted it into a private gentleman’s club of sorts on the backlot. He had a table in there, he had light and power, he even had a place to sleep. It was kind of clever, how he’d Tetris-packed eveything into such a tiny space.
The tape held several clips, spliced together. Hours or days seemed to pass between them.
All the videos depicted my dad being his usual credit-to-humanity self. I watched him nose-rip lines of coke off the table, play (and cheat) at cards with his co-workers, try to con actor Sean Bean into bagholding on his penny-stock scheme (don’t get me started, the brokerage got RICO’d and I lost my entire trust fund), and attempting to get score with a pretty young busgirl. “So whaddya say, toots. I’m second camera assistant on this Percy Potter thing. If like three people die, I’ll actually be shooting footage that people see! So how about we get you out of those clothes, and onto this mattress here—hey, come back! Fine. You fuckin’ bitch. Fuckin’ whoo-ooore! You’re fat and ugly anyway, cunt! God, fuckin’ women…”
Why had dad constructed this place? Why was he filming this stuff?
I still don’t know. Maybe he was hoping to extort people. Maybe this was the final death rattle of some stunted, unfulfilled dream of being a moviemaker. Who fucking knows. Dad’s mind was locked door. One with an unpaid rent notice taped to it.
The camera was definitely hidden.
Nobody displayed any awareness that they were on film. Not Sean Bean. Not the busgirl.
Not Alexandra Daddario.
Alexandra Daddario sucked like a cabin rupture at eleven thousand feet.
Her beautiful head slewed up and down in my lap—plunging, lunging, throatfucking—lewdly riding lunging a vicious throat-splitting trajectory.
glurkkk slurrpp ploppp GLOOORRRRPP!
As her head furiously pumped up and down me, her hands cupped my slowly-tightening balls. She squeezed. Scrotal flesh billowed from between her pink fingernails. Rude, vulgar sounds gurgled from her pink cock-slobbering mouth. A symphony of boiling meat, churning in my lap, ready to erupt like a volcano.
blorrrk splurch shuuucckkk-splurrrp
As she vacuum-sucked my engorged prick, I felt my heavy balls flexing upward, ready to disgorge their load.
In preparation for Alexandra’s arrival, I’d abstained from masturbation for nearly a whole day. I had an enormous load saved up in my balls, and it all came exploding out of me, propelled by her pink lipstick suckjob.
She’d asked for a warning before I came.
Gotta be honest… I kinda spaced on that.
“UGH!” My cock bucked hard, spurting in Alexandra’s mouth.
Her iceberg-blue eyes flew wide open as three huge spurts gouted into her mouth.
Splrrt. Splrrrch. Skliirrrt.
“Uh, cumming.” I said apologetically. Cum roped out, so much that the movie star was soon gagging on it.
“BLURRK!” With a noise like a car backfiring, she tore her head off my cock, spluttering out a shocking amount of mixed cum and saliva. It splattered over my crotch like a spiderweb of frothy, white strands.
“Ugh! Yeah…fuck! Ugh!” My hips bucked and surged. I clenched my teeth, riding the surges thrumming through me.
My cock bounced and jumped in my lap, firing out ropes like an artillery piece.
As she reeled back, the first jet leaped four feet in the air, splattering my dorm room from the bottom of my Die Antwoord poster to my sneakers. The next two spouted even further, nearly hitting Yolandi Visser’s printed face. The next one—and I swear I wasn’t aiming at her—flicked out sideways, and belted Alexandra between the eyes.
“Don’t cum on me!” She howled, recoiling and clutching her face. She tried to stand, and instead fell all the way to the floor. The strand had plastered a thick line from her hairline to her breasts. My ejaculate swung and dangled thickly from her chin.
“Sorry!” I gasped, as cum continued to blast out from my hips.
“It’s all through my hair!” She clawed at her brown locks, wild with rage. “Shithead!”
Several more shots splatted out over the carpet, each with less reach than the last. Then I was empty—cock wilting, lungs panting, mind whirling. What did I just do? Alexandra’s lipstick was imprinted in a gaudy halo around my root. I wondered if it was medically possible to have this tattooed on.
“Uh, thank you?” I said.
Cum-blasted, she flapped her hands, made a disgusted ughh! sound, then stormed into the tiny bathroom.
I heard her ripping open my cabinet doors, clawing out handfuls of bottles until she found my mouthwash, and chugging it like a Kappa Delta pledge on rush week.
To be honest, I wasn’t as embarrassed as I probably should have been. I felt pride in what I’d achieved.
This whole tape business…I could have gone to jail if I’d played it the wrong way.
Instead, I’d just gotten a moist, sloppy, ball-tugging, lipstick-mashing blowjob from Alexandra Daddario.
Amazing, what will change your life.
I watched the tapes for eight hours. Watched until night had fallen. Watched until the janitor threw me out of the film lab.
Alexandra Daddario appeared on tapes four, five, six, and nine.
Dad drunkenly breaks the lightbulb in tape ten. The tapes functionally become audio only from that point on. For this reason, I am unsure if she’s on tapes eleven, thirteen, fourteen, and sixteen—the woman’s grunts and moans as she has possibly two dozen orgasms sound like Daddario’s, but I can’t be sure.
I couldn’t believe this. This was the find of the century.
It was the most entertaining footage to come out of the Percy Jackson movie. Of that I was certain.
I was unable to sleep that night. I stayed up, digitizing Dad’s tapes to mp4 format so I could watch on my laptop and my phone. They didn’t seem real, no matter the device.
I felt like I’d been given a gift. And with it, sanctification for what came next.
I can’t defend what I did next. A door seemed to swing open in my mind, light shining from what lay behind it. Probably, it was a door to nowhere. But I couldn’t go on without knowing what I might find if I pushed.
I sat on the mattress, stars ripping across my vision. Thoughts crawled around my skull, as slow and stupid as paramecia.
Something’s not right. A quiet voice whispered in the wilderness of my mind. You’re forgetting something important.
What, though?
I heard my toilet flush.
Alexandra Daddario skipped naked from the bathroom, heavy breasts bouncing. She flopped down beside me on the mattress. I couldn’t look at her. I felt like I’d ejaculated out all my confidence across the carpet. Not to mention about 30 IQ points.
I felt shy around her—exquisitely shy—and all too aware of the massive differences between us.
For long minutes, we sat side by side on my bed, not talking.
She did not mention the tapes. Neither did I.
I kept glancing sideways at her heavy jugs. My flaccid cock began to swell conspicuously. I squirmed, uncomfortable. Please go down, I thought to my cock. Now’s not the time.
My cock disagreed. Now was very much the time.
Daddario glanced at my erection like it owed her money. She sniffed delicately—and with great contempt. She mouthed something that looked like teenage boys…
I gave her five minutes to cool off about me cumming on her. Then I looked at her face, and extended it to ten minutes.
Finally, she broke the silence.
“I need to smoke.” She reached over me, grabbing the SpongeBob Squarepants bong off the dresser. “Can I use this?”
“Uh, sure,” I was distracted by the way her tits had swung over my lap, touching my dick. “I have weed in a bag in the…oh. You found it.”
She’d already snatched the freezer bag of Durban Poison I’d taped under the lid of the toilet tank, it seemed. She was furiously packing green matter into the bowl. I’d been too stunlocked by my orgasm to notice the baggie in her hand, apparently.
“Do you want me to change the—” the water in the bong was as yellow as a urine sample, and full of tar.
“No.” She’d yanked a light from her purse, and was spinning the wheel until it caught.
Something’s not right. The voice in my mind was yelling now. Something’s not right.
She planted her lips over the mouthpiece as she burned my weed. The muddy water boiled sullenly, filling the chamber with snake-coils of smoke.
Once it was solid white, Alexandra drew sharply and deeply through the mouthpiece. The smoke rushed from the chamber into her lungs. She held it, then smoke issued from her nostrils in two pillars, like she was a fire-breathing dragon.
She slumped like a broken toy on my bed, chest rising and falling, obscene milkers heaving with sweat.
“Feeling better?” I said, as her tits rose and fell with her breath.
She didn’t reply. I decided a better apology was in order.
“Look, sorry for jizzing on you. If you want, I’ll—”
She raised a hand, and spoke toneless words that almost didn’t register as language.
“I will need to shower anyway after that,” she spat. “So I guess we may as well do something else.”
Something else? I tried to puzzle out meaning from this.
She grinned quickly, making my heart leap. I’m in love! Then the grin vanished behind a sullen pout. She puppeteered emotions across her face, each less real than the last. Actresses, man.
Her nipples were erect, as was my cock. Her face was flushed. She kept touching her hair, in a familiar female tell.
“Huh…okay…” By something else, she means sex.
“…I mean,” she said. “You can fuck again, right?”
“Can I?” I asked stupidly.
She glanced at my cock. Yep, still erect.
“You’re a little slow on the uptake, are you?” She grasped my hand, and steered it into her panties. Into a raw wound of throbbing, desperate flesh, dripping wet.
Her twat sucked at my hand, as if pulling it in. It was so needy. So hot. So eager. I felt like I was getting a feel—literally so—of the interiority beneath her shell. Under the skin, Alexandra Daddario was like you and I: a mind-boggling amount of red and dripping meat.
“I want to fuck someone,” she said flatly, and without affect. “And you’re someone.”
Under her voice, a dark chemical hunger waited for me. Waited for its twin.
We fucked on the dirty mattress. Hip to hip, face to face, mouths passing breath back and forth.
She’d stung me with the pornbrain allegations. Fine, Miss Hollywood. Let’s smash in the most boring way possible. Bet you I enjoy the hell out of it.
We’d spent a long time kissing and petting first. Driving each other crazy. I had bite marks on my chest, nail marks on my back, all the good stuff. I was wearing her on my skin. Wearing her pain. I was the sum of holes she had made.
Dick throbbing, I pushed her back onto the bed. She didn’t resist. Didn’t protest.
I’d swung my body on top of hers, packed my cock against her shaven cunt, pressed in, angled my hips, then drove forward with a feral, flesh-splitting sound.
Alexandra moaned whorishly, legs kicking as my thick cock fucked into her. She’d spread her legs wantonly, wrapping them around my ass to guide my strokes in.
My cock packed her pussy, sliding into her tunnel with tight gripping resistance. I watched her fleshy labia minora and labia majora gape beneath my girth, squelching apart.
We were fucking hard now, crotches beating a moist rhythm atop the mattress. She lay on her back, legs splayed on the bed, taking my thrusts. With every jarring impact, her tits washed like a wave into her neck, the bulbous sacks whiplashing back to her chest.
Alexandra’s hands were on my back, pulling me down into her heaving breasts.
“Hahh…hahhh…hahhh…” she wheezed as I humped my cock into her sucking wet hole. Her muscles flexed, gripping as I punished her cunt-sleeve.
She grunted, smashed into her, smelling the Durban Poison gasped out on her breath. Sweet anise and gasoline. Probably kills brain cells. What the hell, not like I’m using them for anything important.
“That’s it…hahh…give it to me!” Her voice kept rising. Her face kept reddening. After five minutes of loud, churning cunt-pounding, she was visibly starting to cum.
slurrrrpp!
She orgasmed with the noise a farm animal makes. Undignified.
For the next forty seconds, I faced her storm. My face experienced every piece of noise and wind and heat that her throat could manufacture. She screamed out a sharp, intense climax as my fat dick sunk into her, screwing through her fleshy folds. Her twat churned and gurgled around my prick. Her urethra sprayed out gushes of hot, slippery girlsquirt.
Once her spasms settled, I lay on top of her, crushing her tits against my chest. My hands squeezed her muscular shoulders, in time with the fuck-thrusts I was sliding down her hot, slippery hole. I let loose a deep, vicious groan of satisfaction. A wicked sound. A triumphant one.
shlup schlup shlup shlup The mattress springs rang out metallic counterthunder beneath the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh.
“I know what you like,” I said, as my pounding hips churned cum into foam on her pubis. “I know so much about what you like. I’ve seen the tapes.”
She screwed up her face. “Shut up! Stop it! Not so rough!”
My cock squirmed wetly inside her squirming gash, gaping it to the hilt with hot teenage cockflesh. The base of my stalk throbbed against her splayed labial lips. The tip pressed against her cervix.
I pulled out, only to scythe back in.
Ten minutes later, she orgasmed a second time beneath my strokes.
I rutted my prick into her moist, slurping cunt, which suddenly deluged cum over me. Her orgasming contractions sprayed out hot tropical gushes over my belly, fired by her convulsing pubococcygeus and iliococcygeus muscles.
As her orgasm settled, I planted my face into her cleavage, still fucking away hard at her twat.
I panted into the moist depths of her cleavage, not slowing my ramming, squirt-splattering fucks in the slightest.
shlup schlup shlup shlup
Two fat, coconut-sized breasts pressed squeezing, suffocating warmth over my face, drowning me in quivering titflesh. I motorboated the luscious pair, planting kisses on both surfaces. Making them heave and jiggle. They squished up around me, engulfing my face. Alexandra winced as my stubble dragged against the pressure lines the 32F bra cups had cut in her skin.
SHLUP! SHLUP! SHLUP!
Her eyes unfocused, seeming to swing apart in her sweat-dripping face. She stared a thousand yards past me, oblivious to the brutal, blissful piston pounding cum-lubed thrusts into her core.
I howled, sinking a death-deep thrust into Alexandra Daddario. One that made her whole body shake as it went in.
SPLAT!
I hilted myself, burying my throbbing prick King Arthur deep. Her walls collapsed on me, squeezing out convulsions from her labia.
My second load burst out of me with violent force.
I groaned, cumming so hard my head rang with it. My big shaft gaped, swelling within her slippery walls as semen roared out of me. Then my buttocks clenched hard, and we both heard a gurgling, splattery noise, deep in her guts. My cock, blasting thick gouts of semen.
I lay motionless on top of her, just cumming and cumming until baby batter was slopping out of her twat, puddling beneath her ass on the mattress.
spllrrtt…spllikk…
“I didn’t say you could bust in me,” Alexandra murmured as I rotated my sucking cock inside her sperm-packed depths.
Damn. Can’t cum on a girl, can’t cum in a girl. It’s tough out here. I felt my huge load pouring out of her, slathering my scrotum in my pulpous load. She mewled in anguished delight as I ground my cum-splattered crotch against hers.
It hadn’t been two minutes, and my cock was already hard again.
I spammed out messages to all of Alexandra Anna Daddario’s socials. Even her Myspace.
All were ignored, or received stock Ms. Daddario cannot respond to personal messages from fans, so please fuck off and swallow a shotgun responses from publicists and robots.
So I DM’d her a screencap from a video. Remember this, Alexandra?
Then I put my phone down, hearing my heart thudding. I began to proctor a student essay on Antonin Artaud’s Theater of Cruelty, and its influence on Samuel Beckett’s Theater of the Absurd. I typed three lines, and my phone pinged.
The actress was in my DMs already.
who r u?? how do u have this??? -AD
Suddenly, I felt confidence take hold in me. I knew exactly what to do, what to say.
As soon as she recovered from her shock, she tried legal threats.
Criminal extortion! Revenge porn! Invasion of my privacy! Lawyer up, because I’m going to sue you so hard you’ll be a Johnny Cash song! Blah blah blah. You get the idea. Promises to rain fire and brimstone on me unless I destroyed my father’s tapes or handed them over.
I’m not stupid. I’d researched the legality of this situation before contacting her.
Here is my response to her.
“Alexandra, I will make two points. Take them or leave them.
“First, the tapes are not mine. They’re my dad’s. I have not violated your privacy, and am not in breach of any of California’s revenge porn statutes. All I’m guilty of is having a box of my dad’s crap sitting around in my dorm room.
“Did my father commit a crime by filming you without your consent? Yeah, probably. Take it up with him. He disappeared in Thailand five years ago, so good luck finding him. Tell him to pay the damn child support money he owes my mom while you’re there.
“Second, I am not extorting you. This is not a demand for money. I am not threatening you with the release of the tapes. I am merely advising you that they exist, as a good citizen should.
“So, what’s the next step? Obviously, the tapes must be given to you, but this is not as simple as you might believe.
“I can’t send them by mail. Do you know the kind of creatures USPS hires these days? Half the packages I get from Amazon arrive slit open and taped back together. This also applies to any agent you might send to receive the tapes on your behalf: I won’t know them, cannot trust them, and so must refuse to hand the tapes over. We have to be careful. If the tapes fell into the wrong set of hands, they’d be on Pornhub within a day (and you’ll blame me).
“I cannot destroy the tapes. That would be concealing evidence of my dad’s crimes. It’s the last thing a justice-minded individual would do. Absolutely not.
“There is only one solution: you must drive to my Pomona College dorm room and collect the tapes in person. Alone.
“And this brings me to another problem: I don’t actually know where the tapes are. Once I had them. But now I’ve lost them. They’re under some junk, probably. My room’s a bit of a mess. Yeah, I could tell you some places the tapes might be. But right now, I’m tired. Finals week. You know how it is. Or maybe you don’t.
“Alexandra, I am sorry but I will be a little blunt here: I am not obliged to help you, for free. The tapes are a YOU problem. I will allow you into my dorm room, but that’s all.
“Strap in: you’re about to waste a whole afternoon digging for the tapes in my dorm room. Might take you a few days, honestly. There’s a LOT of trash in here. Bring a shovel. And lots of plastic bags.
“Unless I am motivated to help, you’ll be searching alone.”
She raged. She swore. She threatened.
She agreed.
We arranged a date for her to come to my dorm room, and pick up the tapes. If she could find them.
“Oh my God…!” Alexandra roared as I plunged my cock through her. She supported her body with her knees and hands, blinking sweat from her eyes as I buried my cock in soft, yielding pussy.
“Hnnnghh… you’re super tight.” I panted into her ears, thrusting swift and hard into her clenching pink pussy.
I slammed down on top of her, drilling a another fuck into needy twat.
My hips whipped back and forth in her pussy, churning our mutual cum into froth. I sped up, the sound of my fucking rising to match the scream leaving her mouth. The impacts shook her body.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Moans. Grunts. Hot wet throbs and churns and clenches burst against my slippery shaft. My mind rang with the splat and slurp of flesh slapping flesh, genitals thumping together with loud, meaty, disgusting slaps.
The sound and sensation of sex fused into one glorious thing. I felt. I heard. Two senses twisting and fusing, serpentiform. Accelerating beyond sanity and beyond reason.
This was art.
“AHHHHH!”
Alexandra bucked against me, her hips spewing out an orgasm. I grunted, planting my hips deeper, pulling her thrashing legs tightly around me to secure deeper, harder strokes into her spasming guts. Thrust after thrust after thrust. I just tore her open with my prick, feeling strings of cum spraying off our hips as they blurred together. I couldn’t stop. My balls were aching and itching, pregnant with another load of cum ready to burst free.
With seconds left, I set a brutal pace, slamming my hips against Alexandra’s splayed crotch with deep, powerful strokes. Shockwaves rolled through her thick body. Thick heavy tits bounced and danced on her chest like JPL fluid simulations. The air filled with the obscene wet crack of flesh on flesh, and the wet squelching as my cock violated her cuntal tube.
As my orgasm exploded like a flashbang grenade, I forgot whether she was okay me blowing loads in her or not.
She’s cool with it. Probably.
My balls clapped her perineum, gave a single hard jerk, and expelled their contents.
I grunted in time with my ejaculations. Four hard clenching spurts of semen, wrung out by her gripping pussy, riding my vas deferens like a rollercoaster, finally shooting up through my shaft.
Blasting into Alexandra Daddario’s unprotected womb.
I convulsed. Shuddered. Hips flexing, mind reeling, cock spraying out sperm as I unloaded.
Our bodies spasmed so hard that my cock came unplugged, and the final dribble went on her thigh.
spllrrtt…splrrrttt…splrrrrchh…
“Urrrghhh…” Exhaustion dropped a ton of bricks on my ass. My vision swam.
I collapsed face-first into her massive, sweat-steaming tits, wishing I could drown in them.
We lay on the soaked mattress for a long time.
Twenty minutes. Thirty.
Her heartbeated thudded like a drum. Or maybe it was mine. I felt heat boiling off her skin, becoming my own. Her sweat and perfume and pussy juice blending together in my nose, an ecstatic death-drug.
Her huge breasts were slippery with perspiration, and slid underneath my chest like lubed-up ball bearings. The woman splayed and fucked beneath me felt like a wave-wracked sea, undulating and unstable.
Then her shifts became calculated and purposeful. She snap-lashed her ankles around my back, holding me.
My cock swelled again, ballooning on her thigh. I moaned. Cumming so many times this quickly was painful.
“Pssst…”
Alexandra beckoned me to her lips, and whispered something that she liked doing.
That, I can accommodate.
I flipped her over, pulled her hips upright, and settled her into a doggystyle position. I carefully steered her ass until it was high enough for me to fuck.
Then I made her bark like a dog. Over and over, again and again, cycling through breeds. She had quite a repertoire. It was fun, seeing what dogs she could and couldn’t do. I did this to amuse myself, and to play for time while my dick slowly slid up past half mast. She does a mean Pomeranian, though. Tell you that much.
We started fucking again—she propped up her ass while I humped aggressively. Our crotches clapped together loudly as I swung my cock into her.
After fifteen minutes of cunt-pounding, I leaned onto her bent-over body, feeling her spine arch low beneath my weight. She started barking again, unprompted this time. She just has that dog in her, I guess.
My heavy testicles flung streaks of cum around as they whapped against her thick ass. I found her breasts swinging under her body, and kneaded them. She gasped. “Fuck me hard. Oh my God, fuck me hard. Don’t hold back!”
“I’m gonna cum in you again.” I snarled against the sweat-frosted curve of her neck, letting my hips slap explosively against her high arched ass. They were swinging on their own now, with no conscious control. I was pure animal. Pure need.
Alexandra gasped, shuddered, and orgasmed hard as I plowed her from behind. Gripped by her pussy walls, I socketed myself into her cunt, as far as I could go, and held myself there. It was too late. For what, I don’t know.
Groaning, my pelvic muscles flexed. An orgasm erupted in my prostate. The massive surge concussed outward, evaporating willpower and sanity and everything else in me that had evolved later than the Cretaceous epoch. I bucked into the beautiful actress, planting another load into her pussy and then falliing across her back, panting. We were both panting.
Panting like dogs.
“Aw, the little man’s exhausted.”
She was teasing me, flopping my limp prick back and forth in her hands. I tried not to hear the veiled insult in that: I was the little man.
After cumming four times in two hours, I was wiped out. It was looking like her next orgasm would involve triple-A batteries.
I glanced at my window. Dark was descending. Oh shit. Steve.
“My roommate will be back in like forty minutes,” I said.
She nodded, and reached for her clothes. The vest and slacks had been kicked off the mattress partway through our second fuck and lay crumpled on the floor. She did not ask about the tapes, which was odd, but not quite odd enough for me to lose sleep over.
This is strange, I thought. There is no reason for her to stay, but I don’t want her to go.
“Wait,” I grasped her hand, pulled her back. “Do you mind if we just sit and talk? For a few minutes?”
“About what?” She frowned.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Everything about what we’ve done today is so weird, and abnormal. Do you have five minutes just to, like, have a normal chat? Like, pretend we were boyfriend and girlfriend?”
She brushed a matted shard of hair from her face, her questioning eyes. “You want a GFE? From me?”
I tried not to sound pathetic. “Please. I think that’s what I wanted, all along. If I have that, I’ll tell you where the tapes are.”
Alexandra smirked.
“I already found them.”
And then I saw the black plastic bag on the floor, sticking out of her purse. The black plastic bags. Suddenly, the thing I’d been ignoring leaped into focus.
The tapes! Oh my God, I’m so stupid.
I’d hidden them at the back of my medicine cabinet, in a hidden compartment. And after I’d blown cum all over her, she’d gone straight there for mouthwash. She’d torn out everything in there, and had probably knocked aside the fake wall.
Which meant…
She could have left hours ago. She hadn’t had to fuck me. All of the sex had wholly unnecessary. I wasn’t complaining. But holy shit, I’m stupid. Ever wish there was a receipt for your brain? Why didn’t I see the bag on the floor…?
“I’ve actually kind of had a good time here,” Alexandra said. “I’ll never say that again and will deny I was ever here, so enjoy. I had fun with you, kid.”
That made me smile, a little enough thing though it was. Even a small gap in the cloud can let in the sun.
She’d spent the whole time sighing and rolling her eyes and acting like I was barely endurable. A commoner, beneath her.
And all along, that had been an act. A thespian conceit.
I’d gotten through to the real woman. Or a form of fakeness so advanced that I could not tell it from reality.
She remained seated on the mattress. Her clothes remained on the floor.
There was nothing for us to talk about. That was the problem.
I tried to talk to her about Percy Jackson. Did she have any good memories of the set, or the shoot, or…?
She cut me off with a raised hand.
“I hated that stupid thing,” she said. “Rung fourteen or fifteen on the career ladder, long beneath me.”
“Oh.”
Another awkward silence. The sky outside my window kept darkening. Oh God, I don’t want this to end here, but there’s no way it can’t.
Alexandra stirred. I assumed she was getting up to go. But instead, she turned to face me. Her expression seemed less like a mask than any she had displayed that day.
“I’ll tell you some stuff about my life, if you want to know.”
“Okay. I mean, yeah, of course I want to know…”
“I’m afraid of flying. My favorite movie is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I’m Sun in Pisces, Moon in Gemini, Ascendant in Libra.”
I nodded, trying not to appear too disappointed. Boring. Don’t care. Astrology is fake.
“Alright.” She shrugged, visibly miffed by my total lack of reaction. “I’ll tell you something else: the first three. My index finger. A hairbrush. A tube of Mom’s lipstick.”
I didn’t get it.
“The first three?”
She smiled a Mona Lisa smile. “Think about it. Think deep.”
I got it. “Tell me more.”
She hesitated. “This is embarrassing, but…my first crush was Doc Ock from Spider-Man II.”
Wasn’t he some fat guy? I screwed up my face. “Be real.”
“I am real! Really real! I used to replay the scenes where he’s shirtless in a vest, just lusting after him. I had wet dreams about fucking Alfred Molina for months after that. Him and James Gandolfini.”
This chick got horny for Tony Soprano? I did not understand, and would not pretend to.
“No way. James Gandolfini? Why him?”
“He’s so sensitive. He has such soulful eyes.” She giggled, seeming to catch herself in bullshit. “I love big middle-aged men.”
Then she shrugged.
“I love to fuck, and I want to fuck all the time, and he looks like he’d be fun to do it with. Doesn’t matter much. Maybe when I bang ugly men, I can pretend, at least, that I’m doing it for a reason that’s not related to my pleasure. Like, maybe they’re paying me. That’s better than the truth.”
“Which is?”
She smiled a depraved smile. “I’m obsessed. I’ll screw anything that breathes. Old or young. Male or female.”
“You like girls?”
She punched my shoulder. “All girls like girls. You are such a bonehead.”
“How many girls have you had sex with?”
She smirked, arching her eyebrows. Not telling. Guess.
“Five?”
She raised an eyebrow up.
“Ten?”
She lowered her eyebrows. But just a bit.
“Nine?”
She nodded, giving me a double thumbs up. The gesture sent her fat tits sloshing on her chest.
“Okay, so you’ve fucked nine girls. How many guys?”
“…Oh, that is soooo not your business.” She closed up, but her lips had a smirk. Like she was challenging me to lockpick the answer out of her.
We were caressing each other by then. I couldn’t remember starting, couldn’t remember stopping. Our hands were all over each others’ skin, teasing out reactions. Her breathing roughened like an outboard motor’s. Her skin rippled, goosepimpling under my touch. My cock had started to twitch.
“I’m just goddamn horny,” Alexandra said. “It never stops. Not even when it would be convenient.”
I asked for her body count again. This time, I got it. “Eh, between eighty and a hundred and twenty.”
I nodded, filing away that information. A hundred and twenty. If a girl makes her body count a range, it’s the higher number, plus a bunch more guys she’s forgotten.
“Does that make me a slut?” She stared at me, her eyes genuinely curious.
“Well, I’m not judging you,” I said.
“Be honest. Would a hundred and twenty guys make me a slut?”
But I tried to imagine fifty.
“Um. That many…? Yeah. Kinda slutty.”
I remembered the yard sale Mom had held to try and pay Dad’s legal costs. (She was midway through divorcing him at the time—no, I don’t get it, either.)
The yard could hold fifty people at a time. I tried to imagine two yards packed full of men, plus twenty more in the street outside. That was a lot of penis that had been inside Alexandra Daddario’s body.
“You’re judging me, aren’t you?” She stared. “You do think I’m a whore.”
“Only a little.”
She laughed.
“Only a low-grade one. Could be worse, I suppose.”
We smoked and talked the sun down. Sometimes we bantered. Once, she cried briefly, saying the weed was making her emotional. We hugged. Then she told me something else. Something too private to relate, even after everything else I’ve told you.
I’m sorry, but you’ll have to imagine it.
Eventually, our fondling degenerated into kissing. The heat of her skin and taste of her mouth finally brought my cock back online.
“Sit on the edge,” Alexandra said, grasping my shaft. “I’ll finally give you that titfuck.”
I gasped as she slid her torso into my lap. Moaned as her big tits clapped into place on my crotch.
They spilled out like heavy, fleshy throw-pillows. Dough-pillows. My dick jutted out of her cleavage, and when she began smooshing handfuls of tit back and forth, it rocked like a weathervane.
Each tug and pull of her mouth sent adrenaline firing through my body. My balls began quivering, liquifying under the wicked, sucking slurps of her pretty pink lips. Melting in the heat of her mouth. Pleasure washed unbearably down the base of my cock, flowing like a disease into my groin. A pretty, pleasant, churning disease, overwhelming me with its virulence.
Saliva rilled from her lips, spilling into a hollow of my testicles. Contractions started vibrating in my prostate.
Uh oh.
Her pendulous globes jiggled and heaved around my cock. It stood like a lighthouse, braced against a fleshy, stormy sea.
I watched two big, obscene breasts splay heavily across my thigh as she leaned in, laving deep, obscene slurps onto my prick. I felt cum bubbling up in my balls as she tongued me.
Then the door to my dorm room swung open.
“Yo…what the fuck this this?”
Oh shit. I’d forgotten about my roommate!
Steve had arrived to find our dorm in a state of debauchery.
“Dude…!” Steve said, staring at the naked woman piled across my lap.
“Sorry…” I gasped.
My eyes remained locked on the vista of Alexandra Daddario’s breasts as they splayed wetly over my crotch. I barely had cognitive throughput for Steve’s shocked face.
Above her tits, her blue eyes widened in alarm. What should I do? She mouthed at me, her face sheet-white.
Nothing. I mouthed back. Let me handle him.
Steve and I have done some weird stuff together. He can roll with the punches.
“Hey…um…I was just fucking this chick, man,” I said.
“I can see that. You ever hear of putting a sock over the doorknob?”
Then his eyes slid from me to her. They bulged still wider as he contemplated the heft of her upraised ass. “Wow, she’s a dime!”
I nodded, a stupid thing leaping out of my mouth without even getting a passport stamp from my brain.
“Wanna bang her? I think she’s down.”
Alexandra’s eyes flashed. You asshole! She mouthed.
I cringed. “Sorry.”
She rolled her eyes, and held up her ass for my roommate.
Steve just stood there for a long time, as if making up his mind. But as Alexandra resumed her dual titfuck-blowjob, he unzipped.
He advanced, gripping his cock. She did not stop him.
As twilight deepened to night, we shared Alexandra’s body.
I sat on the edge of the mattress, fucking her tits. I grasped them in both hands, pummeling them over my cock.
From across the bridge of her body, Steve clasped her big jiggly asscheeks. I watched him run a calloused finger over her asshole—her body flinched from that touch, tightening inward—then finding her well-fucked slit beneath it.
He unzipped, and slid his penis inside her from behind.
I heard him pack his erection into her twat, sheathing it to the balls. Felt it, too. Excited vibrations coruscated through Alexandra’s luscious flesh, terminating in her jiggling tit-handfuls that she was smashing around my cock.
“Oh my God, where did you find this girl?” Steve was open-mouthed as he pounded her from behind.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
He was pounding so hard that he nearly flung her face-first into me. He squished up thick handfuls of her rump and gripped it for support, pummeling the whorish actress’s twat. He had no idea who he was fucking. No idea at all.
Steve railed away, her big ass cheeks rippling from the impacts. Her tits pulverized my cock, swallowing my length from view. Each time my prick jabbed out between them, she licked the tip.
Finally, she let her boobs drop, lunged her head down, and swallowed my shaft.
The wet squelches of her pussy were disgustingly loud. Her asscheeks shockwaved forward as his crotch slapped into them. I don’t remember if my roommate made Alexandra cum. With her tits and mouth attacking my cock from three directions at once, I had my own… situation to deal with.
Head in my lap, nails on my thighs, Alexandra plunged her mouth back and forth on my cock. Saliva bubbled out, spilling down her chin and rolling down her breasts.
Pleasure scorching across my nerve endings as I was dragged to the precipice of another orgasm.
Her tits dangling, Alexandra slurped down my cock until her lips squished against my balls, slurping with moist urgency against my pubis. My skin shivered and crawled.
“Cumming.” I gasped, my balls tightening as if screwed into a vice. I was about to bust between her mouth and tits.
Her lethally effective mouth brought me off one final time.
She slammed her big heavy fucktanks around my cock, then plunged her pretty head into my crotch as they bounced back. Her pretty ponytail bobbed up and down as my heavy prick clogged her cleavage. She was suck-jobbing me too aggressively to notice the way my scrotum was retracting, its cremaster muscles tightening.
Toes curling, I ejaculated almost nothing. Three small jets of cum bubbled out of my cock, dragging thick semen over her jiggling tits.
Steve roared, hammering his hips home and ejaculating in her box. He fired a womb-clogging load in her pussy, then ripped out his cock and jerked it off in his hand as it exploded. Several more arcs of cum leaped onto her back.
“Wow…” he slapped his softening dick onto her butt. “What’s your name, babe?”
Say something, whispered Alexandra.
“She’s shy, doesn’t like speaking. Her name is…” Head spinning, I tried to pull a name out of a memory file I hadn’t looked at in about ten years. Hermione Granger? Bella Swan?
“Annabeth. She’s Annabeth.”
Spunked at both ends, her body shuddering with aftershocks, Alexandra just nodded mutely.
I’m not sure she remembered the name of the character she played in that movie. I’m not sure I would have, either.
“Hi, Annabeth,” Steve said cheerily. With her head in my crotch, she waved back at him.
“She’s gotta get dressed and bounce, bro. Would you mind shutting your eyes for a few minutes?”
Steve nodded, obligingly turning to face the wall. I watched him to make sure he didn’t cheat, while Alexandra cleaned up and dressed and decamped with the speed of the damned. She left with dad’s tapes jutting out of her purse.
That was my only regret—no goodbye.
Fuck.
Steve couldn’t believe what had just happened.
We squadded up in Apex Legends, and played until I got sick of us losing points. I had to solo carry. He was pleasantly shellshocked and spent most of the session as a deathbox.
“You know who she reminds me of?” He said.
“Who?” I tapped the controller, plugging him into a respawn beacon.
“The chick who was in that one movie.”
“’The chick who was in that one movie.’ Damn, bro. You’re being way too specific. Don’t just tell me the answer. Make me guess.”
Steve respawned, and immediately died again. His controller sat untouched as he hunted for a name that wasn’t on the tip of his tongue, but in a different mouth altogether.
“You know. The actress in that one movie exactly like Harry Potter but not Harry Potter.”
I nodded. “Percy Jackson?”
“That movie sucked ass. Aren’t the characters meant to be like twelve in the book?”
“And the movie ages them up to sixteen, and then casts actors who are pushing thirty. I don’t get Hollywood, man. It’s not like they have a shortage of twelve year olds to exploit. Have you seen the news lately? Yikes.”
“Anyway,” he sighed dreamily. “The actress was hot. And that girl was built just like her! Epic boobs. Wish I’d gotten a look at her face.”
“The view you got was probably just as nice.”
“How did you meet her?”
I smiled, and switched off the Xbox. “Through my dad.”
Steve went to bed. I stayed up.
Legs tucked, I flipped open my laptop. It poured out blue light across my pajamas and bedsheets and closely staring face. I waited until I heard my roommate snoring, then hit PLAY on a video.
Light burst across the frame. The lightbulb was so bright that dad’s stolen camera took a few seconds to adjust on the interior of the packing crate.
And then I was watching footage, illegally recorded long ago on the backlot of a crappy movie. The first, last, and greatest gift my deadbeat father had ever given me, and he hadn’t even known he was doing it.
The mattress had Alexandra Daddario on it.
She lay spreadeagled and naked, beautiful and insatiable, letting man after man fuck her. She hadn’t been a huge star. She’d had nothing to lose by indulging her appetites. Sometimes she fucked three or four at once.
Alexandra seemed to have a fondness for my dad, and his particular…charm. I watched her mouth twist out shapes— more more more as he slapped her, spat on her, and heaped misogynistic abuse on her. Bitch, whore, cunt, slut.
He fucked her, looking ridiculous. A fat middle-aged man with a beer gut, on top of a twenty-three year-old woman. What had she seen in my dad? I squinted, trying to work out if he looked like Doc Ock in Spider-Man II.
A little, I decided. Truly, de gustibus non est disputandum.
Alexandra had walked out of my dorm with a spring in her step. She’d gotten what she wanted: the tapes that could have ruined her career.
She hadn’t known I’d made copies.
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