One Hell of a One Off

"A succubus, anyway. Seems kind of dumb to stop with only four orgasms to go." Jessica Stone, female body. Do what the men want. Feed their ego. Popiulate their fantasy. Maybe you get off, maybe you don't. It's not bad, most of it. Fuck that, Jess thought. Not today. Not me.

"I'm going to go back there," she said, "and fuck the shit out of your friends. Right now."

Jess saw him wince, but whatever internal process he went through to get him to where he was still seemed to be working. Besides, if he wanted her to back off it wasn't going to happen without his direct intervention. Jess wasn't going to do it for him.

When they got back all three guys were hanging around the apartment, half dressed, watching her get fucked in the ass onscreen. Men are such simpletons. So predictable.

"Ready to get fucked, assholes?" She dropped her skirt and top on the floor. "Get the camera, Al. Try to keep up." She dropped to her knees in front of Jack, sucked hard then fucked him right in the hardback chair he was sitting in, thighs driving up and down, grinding him in and out, breasts in his face, hair falling around both of them, the chair banging against the edge of the round walnut dining table. "Change positions, Jess," Al said, and she draped herself wide over table and when Jack started fucking she fucked him back as good as she was getting and kept squeezed his cock in her cunt until all he could do was cum. He sat down heavily.

"C'mon, Al."

She found Ed on the couch, sucked him within an inch of his orgasm, then when she climbed on to fuck him Steven was standing behind the couch with his cock pointed straight at her. Ed intuitively steadied her hips so she could ride him while Steven, whose mouthfucking tendencies were restrained by the back of the couch, presented an unusually steady target for a hand assisted blowjob. Jess was working hard, breathing through her nose, sucking, rubbing, she could feel the sweat on her chest, dripping down the sides of her body. Her heartrate was climbing. It's going to be great to get back to running, she thought. Out of breath, she held herself steady, let Ed start to fuck her, lifted higher and let him do the work of fucking, complete with heavy breath and animal noises while she attended to Steven's cock. Ed let out a high pitched shriek and came in three decisive thrusts. He collapsed underneath her and she pulled off of Steven, released down into Ed's lap, put her arms around his neck and rested for three breaths against his warm, yielding body. She took one more breath, lifted off his chest, rose to her knees and looked Steven in the eye. Ed's cum, and probably some of Jack's too, leaked down her legs into Ed's lap. "Where do you want to cum, Steven?"

"In your ass," he said.

"That's $500."

"Sold."

"Stop," said Al. "I have to get that scene. Wait." He moved the tripod to see Steven then got behind him, pointing the handheld at Jess.

"Go," he said.

She collapsed onto Ed, took a breath, lifted off his chest, rose to her knees, put her fists on her hips and looked Steven in the eye. Ed's cum, and probably some of Jack's too, leaked down her legs into Ed's lap. "Where do you want to cum, Steven?"

"In your ass," he said.

"That's $500."

"Sold."

She looked around. "Lets do this in the bedroom," she said. "Door open."

On the bed he rolled her over, put a pillow under her hips. He fucked her pussy, slower that his usual pace, coating himself. He withdrew. She waited, expecting him to force his way in, but she heard Al give him the KY and he carefully lubed her asshole. Al got close with camera, and Steve was unexpectedly gentle under Al's direction, pushing slowly in. He was too big, but she bore it, gradually accommodating him as he in turn responded to each sound and quiver her body gave. "You can go a little harder now," she said.

"You just squeeze my leg if it gets to be too much," he said. "We're a team."

But it didn't get to be too much. The others were there, watching. Al and his camera were inches from her face, and she let it all show, for him, every thrust and groan and stabbing sensation, and in the end Steven was almost howling and Jess was crying because it hurt but she was ecstatic and wanted him to cum in her ass very, very badly. He obliged. She responded. They both collapsed on the bed.

Jess felt him pull off, heard the bathroom door close, the shower go on. She was ravaged. Her ass was throbbing.

Al turned off the cameras and sat down on the bed. "Wow," he said, softly wiping sweat away from her eyes. "You were like some kind of avenging angel." Al said. "That was incredible."

"Pretty credible," Jess said, "if you ask my butt." She pointed to his stiff cock. "I'm all used up for now. You're going to have to wait again."

"You have a headache already?"

"Ha ha. We are not having that kind of a marriage," Jess said. "I want you with me tonight."

"As many nights as I can," he said, "for the rest of my life."

"You really are a romantic," Jess said. "Lucky me."

"I wasn't," he said, "until now. . Why no one snatched you up before I came to my senses I'll ever know." He escorted her to her door and closed it behind her.

Jess did her bath, bathrobe and balcony ritual. She was aware of him, sitting at the other end of the balcony, the movement of water and clouds competing for her attention with the gradually receding pain in her ass. When Al got up, she did too. She had an oddly appropriate outfit; a sheer white blouse, worn braless tonight under a lightly beaded vest, and a short tight white skirt of fine merino wool. It felt delicious on her thighs; when Al put his hand on it, the wool conducted his warmth everywhere.

They walked to dinner at a commercial fish restaurant on the wharf. The guys took the news of their engagement with hearty congratulations all around. They toasted Jess, and the marriage, and Al, and Al and Jess, and Jess again, and the completion of Jess's task, twenty four cocks in three days.

"Only twenty-three," she said. "Al gets one more when we get back."

"Why don't we film it," Steven suggested. "A commemorative engagement fuck."

"Why not? This weekend already will be following me around for the rest of my life."

They made love on the body pillow, in middle of the living room, with the other three guys watching, filming and masturbating. They put on a good show. She was an open book and let Al lead her through cunnilingus, fellatio, sixty-nine, and loving, mobile fucking in many positions before ending simply, on their sides, locked in an embrace, their combined orgasm wet and gooey between their legs.

On the second morning of their life together, Jess woke Al up with a blowjob.

"I should pay for that cumshot," he said. "If we're still on the program."

"Theoretically its over," she said, "but I may as well do another round this morning, if you don't mind."

"My friends," he said, "will be happy to hear that. Have we unleashed a monster?"

"No," she said. "I don't think I'm ever going to be doing this again. But here I am, so may as well play it for all its worth. Any special requests?"

"Stay naked all day, okay?"

"That's it? Subject to being cited, sure." Naked, she had breakfast. Naked, she sucked Jack off in the living room, then relaxed in the hot tub while Al scrubbed all the video off of each guys' phone, transferring it to his laptop. Still naked she packed, and when they were ready to go Jess slipped briefly into her unbuttoned travel dress, holding it closed by hand when necessary. She took it off in the parking lot, and once they were on the road she earned another few hundred bucks fucking and sucking Steve and Ed on the middle seat of the Suburban, both serially and in parallel. Jess hoped the tinted windows kept them invisible, because Steve kept displaying her boobs to the passing cars, when he wasn't trying to push his cock into her throat again. After swallowing her last load, Jess sat naked in the front seat with her water bottle and billing program and added it all up. She had delivered everything in the estimate, plus more.

"Lets' see," she said, "8900 less 400 for Jack & Al's missed threesome, but I earned it back this morning. Here it is: Jack: 2225. Al: 2725. Ed 2425. Steve: 2925. Everyone has a 1250 deposit. Tip?"

"15%." Steven said.

"I'm tipping 25%", Jack said firmly, and that was that.

"I owe you for that evening," Al said.

"On the house," she said. "For excellent service provided. Consider it a wedding present."

He smiled quietly and kept driving.

She collected their credit cards and ran the charges through Square.

"A pleasure doing business with you," Ed said, already having returned her to the ranks of the unattainable.

"Anytime you need what I have to offer, baby, I'm on a plane," Steven said, as if she actually would want him again.

"Thank you, Jess," Jack said. "Thanks." He took both her hands, squeezed them, kissed them, then kissed her lightly on the cheek. We might still be friends, later, she thought, after he gets a new girlfriend. Who likes him to watch her masturbating. It seemed like an odd fact to know about someone.

When they got to the City Al took the 9th street off-ramp. "Where are we going?" she asked

"You'll see. Put your dress on."

When he parked the car on McAlister, right by City Hall, she got it.

"Today? Now?"

"Sure," he said. "Why not?"

"What about my family?"

"We can have a big party and recommitment ceremony later on," Al said. "But I'm done waiting."

"Won't there be a line?"

"We have an appointment."

"You were pretty sure of yourself," she said.

"I couldn't imagine you saying no."

Jess could only yield. They signed the papers. There was an hour wait for the magistrate. Al even had a bouquet for her. The boys had her suitcase. "Go change into that white outfit." he said. "It is a wedding."

"It's a little risqué, don't you think?"

"Yes," he said. "Yes it is."

"What about you?"

"I have something," he said. "Meet you back here in five?"

"Not a chance. I," Jess said, "need to do my hair and makeup."

"We may lose our place in line."

But Jess already was wheeling her bag off to the bathroom with the bouquet clutched in her other hand. This is my wedding. Not as I ever imagined it. But perfect, in its way. She was able to wear the skirt a bit lower on her hips, but it still was pretty short. She had a plain white shawl she could drape over her head to obscure the hair, which she braided tightly and wrapped in a bun at the back of her head. She dabbed a little acetone on the birthmarks and peeled them off her face and neck, washed her face thoroughly, and made herself up in her normal way. The whore of Monterey was nowhere to be found. I will look like myself for my wedding. When she met Al in the hallway, he was dressed in a nicely tailored while button-down shirt with a black tie, tight white jeans and a pair of Italian boots.

"You look great," he said.

"You, too," she said, hugging him. And he did.

Just before the ceremony began Al asked, "Will you do something for me?"

"Seemingly," Jess said, "just about anything."

"Take off the vest."

"That's okay?" Even for San Francisco it seemed a bit much.

"I asked the magistrate. She said she had performed nude weddings here."

And so Jessica Stone was married to Albert Rosen in San Francisco City Hall in front of a female magistrate who seemed to really enjoy looking at her breasts. Everyone else certainly did. After, they went upstairs to the balconies for formal shots of the happy couple, posed next to grand Corinthian columns backlit by majestic skylights. Steve took sets with the vest off and on, so even though the skirt was still too short (and she was already making up funny stories to excuse that), the vest-on portraits were decidedly presentable.

On the way out they found a corner out of sight of hallways and surveillance cameras where Al could take her vest and open her blouse and lift her skirt and Steven could take a more explicit series of R-rated pictures of Jess' body and Al's hands in a public space. When the security guard rousted them he was kind. "You aren't the first ones," he said, "to discover this corner." He gestured to Jess. "Just cover up and go."

The five companions walked over to Zuni Café to celebrate. Jess, sitting with her back to the restaurant unbuttoned the vest. After Steve, Jack and Ed had split the bill, Jess leaned into her husband. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes," he said. "Time to consummate the marriage. Unless you're worn out?"

"Nope. I'm fired up. Besides," she said, "I've never fucked my husband before."

"Did I hear someone say fuck?" Steven said. "I still have a room tonight. I'll cover Jess's fee for all of us."

"I don't think so, Steve," Jess laughed. Her mother-in-law's rings—her rings—were warm against her finger. "My fee just went way, way up." And she kissed her husband.

Ch. 3. Heart of Me

We had massive amounts of video and I had a husband. We couldn't move in together for a few weeks, while we reorganized Al's apartment for married life. We slept at his place when mine was filled with boxes and at my place when his smelled too much like the paint we had spent all weekend applying to its' walls. We kept up with our day jobs; most nights we worked on scripting and storyboarding the films. And we had a lot of sex. I started running again, cut out the ice cream and bread and the weight dropped right off. The tattoos wore off in about two weeks; I was careful that no one saw them (except Al, of course). I cut my hair short, recolored it to more or less my color, got some stylish glasses and put the whore of Monterey away forever. I felt ready for my new, if temporary, career as an independent film producer.

My small Sunset studio became our office. After we got settled we leased a high-end graphics machine with Final Cut Pro and went to work. There were thousands of gigabytes to upload and audit; twenty-five hours from the two main cameras plus hours of iPhone POV the guys shot al-fresco. There was only one small problem.

"How are we going to do this?" I asked.

"Naked," he said.

"I was thinking that, too. It's going to be hard getting any work done."

"We'll have to be tantric about it," he said. "Maybe we'll exhaust ourselves."

"Hasn't happened yet. I guess I'll be in your lap a lot."

"You can blow me while I work the controls."

"You, too. Or you can fuck me from the back while I do it."

We had to watch it all, of course, and make notes to timecode, and an awful lot of fucking ensued. The more footage I saw the less it seemed like it was me on the film, even though I clearly remembered every detail. It made complete sense to Al. "It wasn't you, in a way. You were acting," he said. "The whore of Monterey—tough, dispassionate, but sexual as hell."

"Are you ever going to want to do that again?"

"I could see it. It was pretty hot. You being my wife makes it even hotter." He put a hand on my brest. I rubbed him through his pants. "But it's your choice."

"It's different now. You think you'd be sharing me," I said, "but you'd be giving me away instead. Maybe I wouldn't come back." His cock was hard and meaty in my hand.

"Don't you ever let that happen," he said. My shirt and bra were off and my tits cupped in his hands. "Do you want to?"

"Not come back?"

"No, have a group thing."

"No. I feel like I checked off that box." she was using both her hands now and he was very hard. "But it was fun. I'll do it for you every once in a while. Within reason."

"Would a threesome be reasonable?" Al said. He had unbuttoned my jeans.

"Probably. Not with Steve, though."

"Jack," he said. "Maybe with another woman?"

"I'll try that." I turned around and pulled everything down. It was such a relief to have his cock inside me. "Fuck. . . I'm going to cum . ." And I did and he did, too.

By the time the film was done I was eight weeks along.

The commercial film Al made, "Molly's Now," was reasonably watchable, but the fuss about it was first-rate. An NC-17 rating got us invited to some of the edgier film festivals. My character, Molly, made the film for payment when young, assured it was for private use. Now, twenty years later she's the wife of a politician, a mother of three, and she's getting blackmailed. She gets her revenge, saves her family and achieves near-saintly public respect: but the film is always out there. Critics liked the truthiness of it; Al got a lot of kudos. "Sex was always present, looming, but somehow without prurience," one critic said. Sometimes I'd be doing someone in the background of a scene focused on the non-participating guys. Sometimes you'd see the action in passing, or through the open door of the bedroom, or on a screen in the film's present time. And even when it was foregrounded the context made young Molly the hero.

I suppose it was naïve to think that somehow I wouldn't get outed. Oddly, it was my first pregnancy that proved it. Some paparazzi caught me in the black bikini when I was far enough along to have gained—you guessed it—twelve pounds. Put that photo next to one from the film and align the images . . bingo. Caught red-handed.

So I embraced it. Told the whole story, from theft victim to baby factory. Made it a grrrl-power, sex-positive thing. Nursing a two month old in most of the interviews was a great way to keep the inquisitions civil. With the help of a great editor I speed-wrote a tell-all book timed with the release of the film: When I went on the shows this time I was very pregnant with baby #2. The book sold well and I started blogging about babies, marriage and sex. After my third baby in three years I took a break, got back into top shape and the next year published a fitness book, and suddenly my public persona was "Mom Of Three With Washboard Abs." I posed for shots in skimpy running wear, or carrying kids while in a bikini; then my name was on a cookbook and another workout book, and now I have this little publishing empire. A successful husband. And five kids age six and under. We are so happy it should be illegal.

And despite its commercial failure, both the full film and a celebrity sex tape are out there. In the final ninety-eight minute cut of the film I'm nude for twenty minutes, eighteen minutes of which are me having sex of one kind or another; ninety seconds of that included actual onscreen penetration of one, two or all three parts of me. I'm a listicle, too: "Mainstream Films Where The Actors Actually Did It!"

Al did make our documentary, "Molly's Weekend." It followed my arc from debtor to courtesan to bride, intercut with slices of interviews or voice-overs with/by the participants. (I did my interviews naked). It's a three-hour film that includes over two hours of hardcore sex—that last rampage through all three guys was shown pretty much uninterrupted. I comparing and contrasted the threesomes for about twenty minutes, and it ended with Al & I the last night, intercut with the wedding. We could have made a lot of money if we'd released that one, but I liked my new image and porn stardom was a less attractive alternative. Maybe we'll release it when we're eighty. Besides, Al did fine without it. We've shown it four times: one time to Al's agent, lawyer and a select group of colleagues, as a showcase; twice to the guys and their wives; and once to a group of three couples: our closest and most trusted friends who already knew the story. That became quite the lust-filled night—we screened it twice. Later that summer two of the couples actually went off and spent a wild week together, but that's a story for another time.

I live knowing it's likely that every single person I know or ever will have a chance to meet will have sought out the clips. Except maybe my parents. Even my children will probably see it someday. There's always a snarky young reporter at my events: I've been asked everything from when my next porn is coming out to why I feel I have the right to mother these children. I simply say my life is my own; the film was one event of a life composed of many events, one of which I neither am ashamed nor need to repeat. It's unremarkable that I'm a woman who knows how to pursue and deliver sex; every woman does. Besides, the rawest sex of my life was the most private: when Al and I conceived each of our children. And I want everyone to know it.