My Failed Porno Shoot: The Raw Secret from My Private Locker
In my bedroom, door locked, heart pounding. This stays in my private locker usually. But tonight, adrenaline surges. I spill it all. That one time I chased cash and chased cock into porn. 21, broke student, horny as fuck. Needed money fast. Babysitting? Kids screamed my ovaries dry. Odd jobs? Crab pots. Prostitution tempted, but luxe only. Then porn hit. Spotted at an erotic salon. Photos first: stripping to stockings, teasing chair bars, pencils on my clit. Paid shit, but buzzed me. Director scouted: short gonzo flicks, virgins like me. ‘You’ll get fucked raw: pussy, mouth, ass.’ Like Taylor Rain, he said. Watched her vids. Ass queen. Me? Nervous but wet. Signed for cash, no cap. Prepped hard: HIV test clean. Light dinner, morning shit, enema pear squirting clean. Fingered my ass daily, one to three digits, stretching. Lube deep inside. Bought dildos at sex shop—traded a quick suck for the set. Boss dude blushed when I said it straight: ‘For my porn debut, widening my hole.’ Saturday, 8am. Minivan ride to countryside house. Three guys: director, camera doofus Pierrot, actor Fred with monster cock. Second stud Hardy waited, ripped but barbud ugly. Fred’s wife, makeup bitch, hissed threats: ‘You’ll cry on cam, whore.’ Ignored her. Dressed slutty: fishnets too big, lacy garter, stained cum-spot bra overflowing my tits, tiny thong digging ass, satin miniskirt, Barbie heels. Sprayed throat numbing spray. Pill to loosen my shithole. Gode stretched me numb. Field spot: hay freshly cut. Risky, I warned. Hitchhike scene. Smiled for cam. Van circles back. ‘Hot slut, let’s fuck her.’ Quick flirt, hands on thighs. Pulled over in hidden meadow path. Gode lubed ass more. Actors piss on hay. Pierrot drools, cums in pants watching. Backseat fold-down. Skirt off, shaved pussy praised. Top ripped, tits sucked. Fred’s semi stirs. I suck him deep, no gag. ‘Queen head!’ Hardy eats me sloppy. I crave dick. Fred in mouth, Hardy rams pussy hard, legs wide. Switch slow deep thrusts. Numb throat takes Fred’s fat log balls-deep. Moan fake. ‘Love it, bitch!’ Doggy on sheet. Hardy pussy-pounds, Fred throat-fucks hair-pulled. Switch: Hardy gentle mouth, Fred ass. Slides in easy, then hammers. Pain bites despite prep. No joy, just burn. They grip arms, yank hair. ‘Take it, anal slut!’ Double assault brutal. Body shakes, trapped. Tractor roars! Farmer descends like god. Hot muscled hunk, 40s, grease-stained. ‘Private land, feds coming!’ Hardy threatens, farmer laughs: ‘Run you over, impale your van.’ Director panics, hands cam. We flee, cocks limp. Back home, ass throbbing raw for days. Director fights pay. ‘Suck for it.’ Did. He facial blasts quick. Cash in hand. Locker slams shut. Thrill faded to ache. Secret safe. Lighter now.
