Posted on February 13, 2010 - by Dave
How Jenny Became A Porn Star
Taken from my all-time favorite blog, by erotic poetess Jenny Swallows. Visit her at Jenny Swallows.
How Jenny Became A Porno Star
“It looks a lot bigger on screen that it is in real life.” Mark smirked and shifted a little beside me, retracting the hand that had been draping towards my breast, until it lay again on my shoulder.
“I should hope so,” I laughed, purposefully keeping my voice light. “It means I can stop being terrorised by the size of her boobs.”
Now it was Mark’s turn to laugh. He’d been acting coy all evening, ever since we ran into one another on the street, and I asked him what on earth an office-bound stockbroker was doing, with a three man film crew following him around. He started out telling me that his firm was making a TV commercial, and I stepped back into a doorway before I spoiled the shot (or whatever you call it). Then the pneumatic blonde appeared in a doorway, wearing more make-up than actual clothes, and the barked directions that Mark was now following really didn’t sound the sort of things you’d expect to hear in an advert for financial services. Well, not the kind of financial services that stockbrokers normally advertise.
How long have I known Mark? A couple of years, off and on – he’s one of those people that you consider a friend, without ever doing much that’s friendly together: Christmas and birthday cards, the occasional drink, invites to parties. He dated one of my workmates for a while, but it didn’t work out – I never found out why, and I wasn’t really that interested in finding out. So he was that sort of friend.
“Hey, lady. Are you in or out?”
A voice at my shoulder made me start. One of the film crew was standing there, looking expectantly into my eyes.
“Sorry?”
“You’re a friend of lover boy there, aren’t you? So, are you in this or not?”
“I think not,” I answered – whatever “this” might be. “I was just passing through.”
“Shame. We could use a cute brunette. Give us a call if you change your mind.” And with that, he was gone, slipping in through the same doorway that Mark and the girl had vanished, and leaving me wondering what on earth I’d just turned down. I’d just have to ask Mark, next time I saw him.
Which was about two hours later, when my cell rang, and he was calling from a bar round the corner from my apartment. “In your neighborhood,” he explained unconvincingly. “I thought I’d better explain.”
Which, once I joined him at the bar, he did, in such a long and convoluted fashion that it was half an hour before I finall got to say what had been evident to me after about 30 seconds. “You make porn films.”
He nodded. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
I shook my head. “Why should I?”
“Some girls can be funny about that sort of thing.”
“Some girls can be funny about a lot of things,” I replied. “Besides…” I was going to say “it’s better than working,” but bit my tongue. From what I knew about the business, it was work, and a lot damned harder than most jobs.
“A lot better,” he said. “And the pay’s good, too.”
I laughed. “The perks, too.”
“The perks, too. But listen, Frank was serious when he said you should give him a call. And so am I. I’d love to do a shoot with you.”
So I said yes.
We started slow, up in his apartment with just his camcorder for company, me on my knees with his dick in my mouth, doing my damnedest to look cool and graceful. And afterwards… well, maybe it was just the way those tiny speakers distorted everything, but I still couldn’t believe my ears.
“Is that really what I sound like?”
“Sometimes. I love it. It’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s…” Actually, I was lost for words. The visuals were wonderful: eyes closed, lips tight, with just the tiniest droplets of white beginning to show, and you could see my throat working to capture as much as it could. But the soundtrack. You know those wildlife specials, where the gazelles are round the watering hole, and everyone’s gulping and slurping and swallowing? That’s what it sounded like. That’s what I sounded like.
But Mark was right. It was hot as well. I watched as the drips became a stream that cascaded from my mouth, as his come kept on pumping, and I needed to catch a breath.
“Makes you wonder why the music’s always so loud in porn films.”
He flicked at the mouse and paused the file. “I told you, it’s the best sound there is. I mean, look. It’s only been five minutes and I’m getting hard already.”
I reached between his legs. Sure thing. The cock I’d sucked to softness – actually, it was closer to quarter of an hour ago, but who’s counting? – was plumping up once more, and if you don’t believe how soft it was, well there’s the proof on the screen in front of us. So I reached out laughing, deleted the file, and told him I wanted a reshoot. And this time, I’d really go to town.
So I did. And while I never took him up on his offer to make another one, the film that we did shoot is still out there somewhere. In fact, oh, what the hell. Have a look for yourselves.




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