DCM A/N: We have a very patient author writing for us this week, Dellaterra, who submitted her one shot a while ago. Make sure to check out our blog to see the picture prompt that she chose www . dirtycheekymonkeys . blogspot . com Ready, set, squeeze!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Squeeze My Lemon~~~~~~~~~ 07.06.11~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I love black and white photography, so this photo prompt intrigued me, especially the way the photographer uses light and shadow to convey both power and tenderness.
Disc laimer: SM owns.
"So how was your weekend?"
"Oh, you know, comme ci, comme ça."
"Cum, huh? Anyone I know?
"Asshole."
"There too? Wow, sounds like a real wiener."
She rolled her eyes. Clearly this man was made for his job. All he ever thought about was sex.
They were standing in Jacob Black's photography studio in Manhattan, wearing nothing but panties and briefs under their robes, which was more than they usually wore on a film set. Some marketing genius at Calvin Klein had had the inspiration to use porn stars for underwear models and had contacted their agents about doing a video and some still photography. They had quickly signed the contract, both more than ready for a break from their unrelenting schedule of the suck-'em-and-fuck-'em films for which they were widely known.
She smiled a little to herself, happy that for once the public would see her in a video that didn't require age verification first. She imagined herself, larger than life, on a Times Square billboard, with the video playing on the JumboTron screen there. Sam lived in New York too. Her smile got a little bigger.
"The AVN awards are next Saturday. Got a date yet, Leah?"
"Maybe."
"Ah, you're breakin' my heart."
"What heart?" Obviously the only organ this man ever used was his cock.
He clutched at his chest in mock agony.
The scene they were shooting was short and very stylized, but the photographer's reputation was formidable. He'd been working for CK for years and knew exactly what he wanted. The background was all Atlas Shrugged, and was being shot entirely in black and white.
"C'mon, he's ready for us."
"Took him long enough."
"That's not the only thing that's long, baby. And thick."
"Oh, please. Show me something I haven't seen a hundred times before."
"You know you love it."
"Yeah, but do we have to talk about it all the time?"
"Aw, you're hurtin' Mighty M's feelings."
"'Mighty M'? Is that what you call it? What does that mean? 'Mighty Mouse'?"
"Yeah, the mouse that roared, baby."
She rolled her eyes again, sighing.
The photographer must have had at least 15 cameras. He called constantly for lighting changes, endless adjustments to their poses. He screamed at the videographer, who'd been trying to stay out of the way all day while still doing her job. They later learned that she was his wife.
"Miss Clearwater? Mr. McCarty? They're ready for your close-ups."
They both erupt in laughter.
"What is this, Sunset Boulevard?" she asks.
"It can't be. That one's a classic, but this guy sounds cheesier than porn."
"... And ... action!"
They bent to the will of the camera for seven long hours. It was nothing like they'd ever done before. Porn would feel like a walk in the park after this.
Afterward, they gathered around the monitor to see the results. Even unedited, the video was stunning. The black and white images were raw and powerful, yet understated. The contrast of shadow and light seemed to reveal subtle truths rather than conceal the artifice of the scene.
They stared at the screen in stunned silence. They'd made 27 porn films together, but he had never before realized how beautiful she was. She had never understood why women followed him down the street.
Until today.
The photographer and the videographer conferred briefly, then decided that they had what they needed. The studio slowly emptied. They sat on the raised platform where they'd spent most of the day, still wearing the product – panties and briefs – that they'd been hired to sell.
He was shaking his head. She had a puzzled look on her face.
"Did you ever – " "Do you wanna – " They both spoke at the same time, then laughed.
"Well, that was an interesting day, wasn't it?" she observed a little shyly.
"Yeah. Interesting." He didn't want to sound like a closed-off asshole, but he was still struggling to process what had been revealed on the screen.
"You wanna get something to eat, maybe?" she asked tentatively, confused. It wasn't like they'd never shared a meal before.
"Yeah." He looked at her. He'd fucked this woman dozens of times in every possible position, in every available orifice, but he'd never really seen her before today. His eyes followed the dark hair that flowed down her back and he found himself reaching out to touch it, then hesitating, his hand suspended in midair.
She looked up at him, seeing things more clearly now. She grasped his hand in her own, then brought it to her cheek. Closing her eyes, she leaned into it and sighed, then turned toward it and gently kissed his palm. He looked at her with rapt attention, scarcely breathing for fear of shattering this moment, this bubble that surrounded them, suspending them in time and space, as the rest of the world fell away into insignificance. He felt the fist clenched around his heart loosen its vicelike grip for a fraction of a second and he wasn't sure he could bear the intensity of feeling that flowed out of it.
"Leah," he whispered, melting when she opened her eyes and gazed up at him. Those dark eyes were limpid pools of desire and he wanted nothing more at this moment than to dive into their depths. The beauty of her eyes was nothing new, but the warmth was. Never before had she looked at him like this; never before had he felt so completely seen.
"Leah." He said her name like it was a revelation. A puzzle – and its solution. He brought her head toward him, never breaking their gaze. He felt her resistance as she weighed in her mind the meaning of what possibly, irrevocably, would come next.
"Leah," he said in supplication. "Please." Something hard in her face softened at this, yielding. He moved forward the last few inches, kissing her almost chastely, reverently, hardly daring to hope for more.
She pulled away and he almost cried out in dismay, but then was flooded with relief as he realized that she was merely laying back on the padded platform. He arranged a few pillows under her head and leaned down to kiss her again.
"You are so fucking beautiful," he whispered.
"Oh, Emmett," she breathed, taking in his warm scent, the feel of his muscles under her hand, the delicate kisses that were growing more insistent, his moan when she responded to them.
With a look of wonder in her eyes, she attempted to make sense of it all, but she was overwhelmed, her head spinning with confusion and desire. There had never been a moment of tenderness such as this in any of their films. After all this time, after all that fucking, they were... making love.
With one finger he traced her cheek, then lifted her head and pushed the pillows to the side, preferring to cradle her head with his arm instead. It had been one of his favorite poses during the day and Jacob had taken hundreds of photos of them like this. He basked in the feel of his slim, muscular hips between her thighs, his tight abs against hers, his smooth chest against the softness of her breasts. They still wore the utilitarian, yet sexy, underwear they'd been hired to promote, but they barely noticed it between them.
She reached around and pulled him closer in an embrace that left her breathless with his full weight upon her, his warmth igniting a fire deep in her belly. She spread her legs wider as she felt the pressure increase from his hips, his erection pushing against her insistently. No porno fluffer needed here.
She sighed as she thought about all the ways she'd seen him wield his beautiful cock during the past year – ever the swordsman, never the lover. She didn't think he had it in him to be one, didn't think he was capable of putting aside his emotional armor long enough to let anyone in. She couldn't explain it yet; maybe she'd never be able to. But now everything was different.
Everyone had a story about the path that had led them to porn. Some brought little emotional baggage to the job; many were significantly damaged. Leah believed herself to be somewhere in between. Sam was an amateur photographer who'd enjoyed taking nude photos of her. She had loved him and wanted to make him happy, so she'd set aside her qualms and her modesty to do what he wanted. Then he'd posted a few shots on the Internet. She'd been appalled when the emails started rolling in, hundreds of them, asking for more. But when she'd come home one day to find Sam busy taking photos of her cousin Emily while he fucked her in their bed, her heart had shattered, and her rage had led her to make one foolish decision after another, ultimately leading her into porn.
"Leah." His low voice brought her back into this moment, this shared feeling of awe. It was the first time in years that she had felt anything other than a towering rage toward Sam for his part in setting her on this path. Now there was a brief flash of something different – gratitude? – before she pushed him out of her mind in order to focus completely on the gentle giant who was embracing her.
He hadn't always been a giant. There was purpose behind that. He'd once been a scrawny kid, and then a gangling teen, living with his father and the series of girlfriends he brought home after Emmett's mother had died. Victoria had appeared while he was in high school, still months away from the growth spurt that had left him towering over everyone as he surpassed six feet in height. She was the one who'd gotten drunk while his dad was at work, the one who had barged into the bathroom one day while he was in the middle of beating off in the shower, oogling his already prodigious manhood as she stripped and joined him. She was the one who had taught him that the only worthwhile part of him was his cock.
He had learned his lesson well, going on to build up his body so that no one would ever take advantage of him again, and now he made a good living by it. He always enjoyed filming with Leah but had never stopped to ask himself why. As he kissed his way down her body, he could hardly breathe from the intensity of it. Her skin was the color of melted caramel, her body in peak condition. He should know; they usually worked out together several times a week. He loved the definition of her muscles in contrast to the achingly beautiful softness of her breasts. She arched her back as he circled her nipples with his tongue, reveling in the way they responded to him.
He was still struggling to understand what was so different. He had done this a thousand times, and had been paid good money to do so, but he'd never felt like this before. It was as if a fire was burning in his blood, and only she could quench it.
By the time he reached her clit, he was half-on, half-off the platform. He slid off, kneeling on the floor, and pulled her body toward him until her hips were at the edge of the platform at a perfect angle for him to show his adoration. He felt like he was praying, worshiping at the altar of a goddess. He slid both hands under her, taking off her panties to marvel at the glistening wetness of her arousal, then shed his briefs as well before lowering his head as he lifted her to his mouth.
She moaned as she ran her fingers through his short, curly hair, then pressed his head closer, wanting to feel his tongue everywhere. Her hips moved of their own accord, rising to the rhythm of his tongue as it plunged into her, then pulled out again to lick and suck her clit. Her muscles clenched and relaxed as the perpetually hard knot of pain in her belly slowly unraveled until she was falling apart.
"Emmett... Emmett... Emmett..." There had been few orgasms since Sam, and those only the ones she had given herself. She never came when they were filming; there was too much going on for the benefit of the cameras. But now she felt everything, and she couldn't stop the tears that were quickly turning into sobs.
He quickly climbed back onto the platform, hovering worriedly over her. "What's wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?" He frantically tried to recall if he had bitten her, or maybe bruised her somehow. He'd been holding onto her like he never wanted to let go. His cock was so hard that he ached to be inside her. Every sound of pleasure that she'd made only intensified his. Now he felt like he was drowning in the flood of her tears.
"No, I'm okay," she managed to get out, laughing a little between sobs. "Much more than okay." She reached up and stroked his cheek, wanting to quell the distress she saw in his eyes. "That was amazing."
He shuddered in relief, then started to get up.
"Hey, where are you going?" she asked, holding his hand and refusing to let go. "Isn't 'Mighty M' feeling a little neglected?"
"It's never little when you're around, baby." He grinned as she reached out and touched the tip of his cock, watching as it sprang back to attention.
"That's the cheesiest dialogue I ever heard," she said, laughing as he lay back down beside her. He couldn't keep his hands off her and soon he was hovering over her again, all worries cast aside. What remained was the urgent need to be deep inside her, to feel her warmth surround him. He reached down, holding his cock, seeking entrance.
"Wait."
He almost didn't hear her in the fog of his desire. Then he froze, even as the tip of his cock throbbed against her, his pre-cum leaving a trail on her soft skin.
"Emmett, we've never done this without a condom."
It was as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown at him. He straightened up, horrified that he'd nearly put them both at risk, even though he knew that they were both meticulous about their sexual health.
Still...
"Maybe someday," she reassured him as she wrapped her hand around his cock, then smiled shyly when she realized the implication of what she had said. "For now, please let me..." She stopped, searching for words that didn't sound like a porn script. "Please let me love you with my mouth."
"Let me love you too, baby," he said as he repositioned himself at her side, this time with his cock poised at her mouth and his lips moving up her thighs, eager to give her pleasure once more. He moaned as she licked him, then took just the head of his cock into her mouth. He knew what she could do; she had skillfully deep-throated him many times before. But today wasn't about getting his rocks off as they filmed a scene.
It was so much more than that. All of his senses were amplified, every nerve ending tuned to her wavelength. He couldn't believe how good it felt as her tongue flicked up and down along the vein on the underside of his cock. The force of her suction made his toes curl. And when she swallowed around him while he desperately struggled to keep from fucking her mouth, he just couldn't hold back any longer as his orgasm came boiling out of his balls and pulsing into her throat.
Although he had been a little distracted, somehow his tongue had kept up with hers and the beginning of her second orgasm added to the intensity of his own. He shuddered as she continued to suck, moaning around his cock while she pressed her hips against his mouth, until they finally moved apart, panting for breath. He felt bereft; he needed to hold her, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her beautiful mouth, so he moved as quickly as he could with bones that felt like jelly to be next to her again.
As they lay together on the platform, side by side, waiting for their hearts to stop pounding and their breathing to return to normal, the overhead lights suddenly came on and footsteps could be heard entering the studio. He rolled over and covered her body with his, feeling very protective of her.
They heard Jacob's startled voice. "Oh," he said, stopping abruptly when he saw them. "That idiot of an assistant left my Hassenblad around here somewhere," he explained. Before he turned away to search for it, they saw the smirk on his face, a look that clearly conveyed that he thought he knew exactly what was going on between his two famous porn stars.
He didn't have a clue.
They knew otherwise, even if they didn't fully understand it yet.
A/N: Thanks to shwhitney for the invitation to participate in this cheeky lemon-fest. My own personal 'Mighty M' – my beta and muse, Monica (AKA TruceOver, the fabulous author of A Tale of Two Cities) – worked her wonderful beta magic on this piece.
AVN: Adult Video News is a trade publication that sponsors the porn equivalent of the Academy Awards every year in Las Vegas. David Foster Wallace wrote a brilliant essay about the event ("Big Red Son"), which is included in Consider the Lobster.
fluffer: a person in the adult entertainment industry whose job it is to give male porn stars blow jobs in order to get them ready to perform. My thanks to the wild women in Rob's Closet (www dot robs-closet dot com) for that particular vocabulary lesson!
DCM A/N: Our hearts are pounding at this moment too! *takes deep calming breaths* Now lease some love for Dellaterra.
Next week we have TexasBella, who is giving us the honor of helping her new fic get started (and it has us started up too *snickers*).
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