This is a sequel to chapter eleven (Casting Couch: Part 1) of AberrantScript's All in the Life of a Loud. Lori, Leni, and Luna are looking to make some extra cash and wind up on Flagg and Script's casting couch. Parody of self-insert fics (I went out of my way to describe myself as perfect...it's a joke and should be taken as such).

The door opened, and a tall, mysterious man in a leather jacket walked in. His jeans molded tightly to his perfect body, especially the massive bulge between his legs. Big Aviator sunglasses hid all but the faintest suggestion of his eyes. A tooth pick jutted from one corner of his mouth, and his handsome, angular face was framed by thick, shoulder length feathered black hair.

Lori's jaw dropped at his chiseled features: His strong chin (with five 'o'clock shadow) his sensuous lips, his proud cheekbones. He smiled at Script. "You would not believe the shit I went through to get here today." His voice was rich and mellow. "Brad Pitt was going through another one of his little moods – you know, crying and depressed – and, being the good friend I am, I had to hug this guy and pat him on the back like a fucking baby." He laughed and put his hands on his hips. When he spotted Lori, a furtive smile touched his lips. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Lori," Script said. He was leaning against a desk with his muscular arms crossed over his hard, well-defined chest. "She's going to be doing some work for us."

Lori lifted one hand with a nervous, "Hi," and let it fall back to her lap.

Flagg nodded at her. "Nice. It's great to meet you. I'm actually kind of surprised; this guy here –" he backhanded Script's stomach – "doesn't usually bring in such beautiful women."

Lori blushed. "Thank you."

"She has two sisters in the other room." Script said, "they're currently discussing a proposition."

Flagg laughed. "Knowing you it involves incest." Flagg glanced at the fourth wall. "He sure does love his incest."

Script smiled and tilted his head to one side noncommittally. "While they hash it all out, I thought maybe you and Lori could do a little business together. Ease her into things. You're the best in the biz, after all."

"Yeah," Flagg laughed, "I am." He glanced at Lori, who was blushing and looking down at her lap. "Why are you doing this, honey?"

Lori glanced up and then back down. "M-Money."

Flagg laughed. "See, I thought it was for love of God and Country. Why do you need the money? Got a sick grandma or something?"

Lori shook her head. "We saw the ad in the paper and decided...why not?"

"It's better than being a janitor or something, that's for goddamn sure." He laughed again and looked at Script. "You got anything special in mind?"

"Nope," Script replied, "just go for it." He picked up a video camera that looked like it cost more than North Korea made in a year. "It's an audition, after all."

Flagg shrugged one shoulder. "Alright, fire that bad boy up and let's get it started in here." He glanced at Lori. "That is if you want. No one's forcing you to do anything." He nodded toward the door. "Door's right there."

Lori's hands twisted nervously in her lap. "I-I'll do it," she finally said.

"Great," Flagg said. While Script got the camera set up, Flagg took off his jacket. Underneath he was wearing a black tank-top that showcased his rippling, tattooed muscles. Lori's breath caught and her blush deepened.

Squatting behind the camera, Script held up a thumb. "Ready when you are."

Flagg plucked the toothpick from his mouth and tossed it aside, then sat next to Lori with a sigh of relief, kicking his cowboy boot clad feet up onto the coffee table and draping his arm on the back of the sofa, his ripped forearm brushing Lori's blonde hair and making her shiver. "You ever done anything like this before?"

Lori shook her head. "N-No."

"Never...did it, I mean?"

"No," she said, "but I've done, like, other things."

Flagg nodded. "That's good." Without warning, he turned, put his hand on Lori's cheek, and kissed her, pushing his tongue past her shocked lips and penetrating her mouth. She froze, then melted against the couch and kissed him back. Behind the camera, Script stared intently into the viewfinder, his perfect teeth bared in an obscene smile. Realizing the scene needed music, he turned, hit a button on the stereo, and the driving guitars of AC/DC's Let There Be Rock filled the room. Flagg raised one toned arm and gave a thumbs up sign as his and Lori's tongues moved frenetically together.

Lori's fingers threaded through Flagg's lush black hair as his hand trailed down the side of her face to her slender throat, then over her collarbone and to her breast: She gasped into his mouth when she felt the heat of his palm through her shirt and bra. Flagg hooked one leg over her and shifted onto her lap, his knees planting on either side of her and his hands sliding up her face and into her hair. Script nodded behind the camera appreciatively.

Flagg broke the kiss and pulled his tanktop off, revealing his flexing back muscles and bronzen skin. Lori's eyes caressed his rock hard, washboard abs and his bulging pecs. She smiled up at him, her eyes brimming with sin. She laid her hands on Flagg's chest and traced his muscles.

Flagg grinned, unbuckled his belt, and whipped it off. "Let there be cock!" he screamed and unzipped his pants. When his massively thick and long dick sprang out, Lori's eyes widened. "It's so big," she said. "Much bigger than my boyfriend's."

"I bet'cha I'm a much better lay, too."

Lori laid back on the couch, and Flagg pulled her shorts down her long, shapely legs, revealing her light blue panties. Flagg tossed the shorts away and leaned in to kiss Lori's face, trailing his lips down her neck and chest as she purred happily. When he reached her panties, he pulled her shirt up and peppered her stomach with light, gentle kisses, tasting her salty flesh with hungry lips. He hooked his middle fingers into the waistband of her underwear and drew them down slowly, past her knees and over her ankles, baring her moist, pink flower. Script lifted the camera off the tripod and moved closer, kneeling next to the coffee table.

"That little boyfriend of yours ever –" Flagg kissed the swell of her pubic mound – "go down on you?"

"O-Once," Lori said, trembling like a powder keg ready to blow. Her flesh was fevered and her eyes were hazy with lust. "It-It didn't get me off."

Flagg laughed. "He didn't do it right." He pressed the tip of his tongue against her clit and drew it slowly down between her folds. She twitched and let out a strangled gasp. He reached her leaking opening, and lapped softly, which made Lori moan and arch her back. Script moved closer to the couch as Flagg moved his tongue back up, slowly, maddeningly. When he reached her clit, he licked it and grazed it between his lips. She drew a sharp intake of breath and rocked her hips into his face, her juice coating his mouth and chin.

Script was kneeling next to the couch and pressing the camera as close as he could get it; Lori thrusted her hips and wove her fingers through her hair, her chest rising and falling and her eyelids fluttering. "Ummmm, Flagg!"

Flagg pushed himself up and crawled up between her legs, the tip of his dick pressing against her opening. She touched his chest. "Fuck me," she moaned.

Flagg jerked his hips, and his titanic penis sank into her, spreading her lips and pushing her walls apart. She moaned as her hymen broke and instinctively lifted her hips to meet his smooth strokes.

"Harder," Script panted.

Flagg increased his speed.

"Harder! I want to hear flesh slapping!"

Flagg went faster still, the impact of his body against Lori's producing a loud, rhythmic thwock sound. Lori threw her head back and bit her bottom lip as her orgasm welled up within her. "I-I-I'm cumming!" she hitched. Her muscles clamped around Flagg's perfect, magical penis, and she shook. Flagg thrusted once, twice, three more times, then yanked out, grabbed his dick, and gave it a mighty tug: His seed shot out from his swollen head and splattered Lori's face. Moaning, she opened her mouth and caught the second wad on her tongue.

Script leaned in and shoved the camera close to Flagg's dick. "There's your money shot," Flagg said as the final spurt splashed across Lori's stomach.