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Film at Eleven

“Professional film-maker seeks middle aged models for new production.”

I knew what they were looking for. And I wanted some myself. Dave hadn’t been paying much attention lately, no matter how much I worked out out or what outfits I wore, so I decided to go and get some of what else was out there. I logged on to their web site and filled out a form, attached a photograph of myself from the beach last year, and clicked Send. I got an email back within an hour. Could I come down to the studio tomorrow morning for a screen test.

You bet, honey, I said to myself. You test my screen all you want.

Dave left for work at eight. Rachel went to school at eight thirty, and I was in town by ten o’clock. The studio was down near the waterfront. A shady neigbourhood, but what did I expect? I parked in lot where I didn’t have to leave my keys and walked down the street to the address they had given me.

MediaMax productions had a buzzer and a squawk box. I announced myself and the door clicked open.

“Mrs. Munroe,” the kid who greeted me at the top of the stairs was perhaps twenty five years old. Tall and hunky. “My name’s Peter. Your photo didn’t do you justice. Come on in.”

He showed me through a narrow corridor to a conference room. The walls were covered with posters for porn flicks. He waved at them with a grin.

“I just want to be sure you know what kind of films we make here, Mrs. Munroe.”

“Call me Di, hon,” I said, sitting down in the nearest chair.

“Alright, Di,” he agreed, perching on the edge of the table near me. “Have you ever done any work like this before?”

“No, this is a first for me.”

“Never hooked? Stripped? Entertained your husband’s friends?”

“Wish I had. But no. I’m just plain old boring me.”

He smiled a big warm grin.

“I don’t think you’re boring at all, Di, in fact I think you’re very hot. So why don’t you get rid of those clothes and let’s see what your hiding under there.”

He lit a cigarette as I undressed. I didn’t try to strip, I just took my clothes off. I was nervous, but he just kept on grinning that little boy grin at me and his eyes told me he was enjoying the view. Next thing you know I was standing in front of him stark naked.

“You are very hot, Di,” he assured me. “Turn around, slowly. Stop. Bend over and grap hold of the chair so I can see your ass.”

He stepped closer to me and his hands stroked slowly along my back and up inside my thigh. I was wet in an instant and he knew it. His thumb slid inside my twat and he began to finger fuck me slowly as he talked to me and smoked his cigarette with the other hand.

“You’re just the kind of woman we’re looking for, Di. Hot, a little older than the normal bimbo, just old enough to be some horney young stud’s mother, but still a sweet piece of ass.

“You like this, Di?”

I nodded as the waves of my first orgasm in weeks rushed over me.

“Tell me you like it, Di.”

“I like it, Peter. I like it a lot. Your thumb is very good at getting me hot. I like that and I don’t want you to stop.”

He laughed in delight.

“Very good, Di. You’re hot, sweet and articulate. You get a reward for that, Di.”

I heard his zipper and I bent forward to offer him my ass as he stubbed out the smoke in the ashtray.

His cock was huge. He rubbed the head of it against the wet lips of my pussy just to let me know he was there and then he pushed his way into me. I moaned in pleasure.

“Tell me about it, Di. Tell me what it feels like.”

“It feels like you’re splitting me in two.

“It feels like you’ve got a cock the size of fire plug and you’re shoving it into me so hard that my legs are about to buckle.

“It feels like I’ve never been fucked until now.

“It feels like I’ll be your fuck toy whenever you want me to.

“It feels like I’m being fucked the way a woman is meant to be fucked.”

He was gathering speed all the time and I had to hold on to the chair real hard to stop being knocked over. He had started breathing hard and he grabbed my tits with both hands, squeezing them hard and pinching the nipples. The pain shot through me, right to my belly and I had a second orgasm. I sqealed a little and he laughed again.

“Like that, Di? Like it when I pinch your tits?”

“Yes. It hurts but it feels very hot and it makes me come.”

“Good,” he said, and pinched me again. Hard. I screamed this time and came again.

He liked that and started really kneading my breasts. Rolling my nipples between his thumbs and fingers. I cried out in pain and pleasure. I would be black and blue after this, but I didn’t want him to stop. I was coming almost continuoulsy now and the pressure of his cock slamming up and down inside me was building like a head of steam on a boiler that was about to blow.

He grunted as he came and slammed himself so hard into me that I couldn’t stay upright. I fell down on the chair. His cock slipped out of me and I felt his come splatter on my bare ass and my legs. I struggled to get up so he could enter me again, but he was done, standing back to survey me in satisfaction.

“That was nice, Di. Want some more?”

I nodded and licked my lips. Oh, yes, I wanted some more. The more the better.

“Good,” he said, stuffing his beautful cock back inside his jeans and zipping himself up. “Leave your clothes here, and follow me.”

Follow along with Di’s adventures in film making in coming installments

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