Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Just A Day At Work (Part 3)

Bekka swiveled to look at me as I came outside.  "So what's the word?"
I shrugged.  "No clue.  They aren't making progress on repairing the drive, everyone else is just sorta sitting around.  Personally, they oughta beat cheeks to the nearest place that carries those drives and pick up a new one.... But it's not my money to spend."
In a slightly accusing tone, she said, "So what took you?"

"I stopped to say hi to people," I replied, flopping in one of the other chairs.  "The Steves had dropped the mounting screws for the drive and couldn't find 'em, so I did.  Chip and Dale are fascinated by Mickey's new toy, our makeup matron is reading a Harlequin Romance novel,  Rita and Tawny are channel-surfing and guarding the dope.  I was feeling slow, so I tapped one out for myself.  Everyone's pretty much waiting to see if we're working today or not."
For some reason, Bekka seethed.  "So, you chop out a line for yourself, but not for me!?  What the fuck, man?  Too busy fucking around to think of other people?  Did you have your cock down Rita's throat, so she wouldn't get rusty and forget how to suck a dick?  Thanks a fuckin' lot."
I waited a few beats to see if she was done.  Then I asked, "Um, pardon me, but where did that come from?  First off, you know crew can't touch the fluffers, so I don't know where you got that idea.  Second, if I had chopped one out for you, then what?  Scoop it into my hand?  Carry the damn coffee table out here for you, majesty?"  I paused, closed my eyes for a ten-count, then reopened them.  In a calmer voice, I asked, "What's going on, Bekka?  Something's riding you.  So spill."  I paused, then added, "Please."
She continued scowling at the hills in the difference, smoking angrily, then sighed and put her cigarette out.  "Shit.  Lenny, I'm sorry.  Right now anyone with a 'Y' chromosome is on my shit list, so you were just in the way.  Short answer?  Boy problems."
"How bad?"
"Real bad.  Like, cheating on me bad."
"Whaaat?  Shit, I'm sorry.  What happened?"  Bekka and I had slowly been developing into fairly close friends, and I knew her to be a good person, so it wasn't her personality pushing away the man in her life.  That, and she could give a dude a hard-on if she was dressed in a rain poncho.  For the business, she was a definite winner: both sexy and attractive.  And if you don't know there's a difference, close this blog, because you're not old enough to be reading this shit.  Especially in about thirteen paragraphs.
"Aw, he's turned out to be like every guy that every girl in the business has dated: he thought our sex would be totally wild, totally constant, and include every activity we've ever filmed.  He can't get it through his head that I do stuff because it's part of the job, not because it makes me hot.  He thinks he's gotta fuck me like a goddamn jackhammer because that's what's in the movies, even though I tell him I wanna take things slow and easy.  And if he pulls out and aims at my face one more time, I'm gonna cut it off and hang it from my rear-view!"

(A brief side-note.  Everyone, including myself, drove fairly dull cars.  With a 1978 Honda CVCC, one of the pregnant roller skates, mine was certainly the geekiest.
On the other hand, Bekka drove a 1964 Ford Falcon street rod.  The serious article.  The kind that rattles windows when you start it, and will leave black rubber streaks for half a block if you so choose.  Also a four-speed with a Hurst shifter, pop-off steering wheel, four-point belts, roll cage, a damn supercharger, and more horsepower than twenty Corollas tied together.  I'd give you engine specs, but if I ever knew 'em, I've forgotten.
She'd bought it from her little brother when he was desperately broke, she paid him what it was worth (a decent size chunk of change: unlike most of its ilk, this Falcon was actually finished, including the paint job), he got out of debt, and she suddenly owned a car that, when she first bought it, had assumed would be garaged until she sold it herself.
Then she started driving it.
And fell in love.
So not only did she decide to keep the Falcon, it became her daily driver, with her late-model Honda gathering dust.  She got a buzz out of driving a vehicle that had more power than sane people would ever use, frightened pedestrians, and could blow people away on both the street and freeway.  Not a mechanic, she had a garage do all maintenance and repairs.  "I swear they undercharge me," Bekka told me. "Partially because they love working on it; it'd be like me doing a scene with Paul Thomas: getting to work with a true classic."  She smirked.  "It also doesn't hurt that they know my career, and I'll dress the stereotype when I go in.  You know the promo cassettes we get at each release?  They always get two.  Even if I'm not getting work done, I'll drop off a couple of the newest tapes, saying, 'Hi, sweeties, we have a new one out. I think it came out hot, let me know what you think,' and give 'em the tapes.  Ta-da, the cost of my new clutch just dropped to fourteen dollars or something.  Maybe they just get a kick out of having a customer who they've seen naked and with a dick in her mouth."
She let me drive it a few times, and....Oh, wow.  It moved so quick I had to re-learn merging onto the freeway.  Being used to the Honda, out of force of habit I hit the ramp and opened it up, hard, since that's what I had to do to get the Honda up to merging speed.  In the Falcon, I found myself on the shoulder of the freeway....  Because I was passing everything else at about 90 mph.  I'd shot past the traffic in the right hand lane with no hope of moving over.
Bekka wasn't worried.  "Yeah, I did the same thing the first week."
She never did get a penis for her rear-view, though.)

She sighed and lit another cigarette.  "Earlier, when I kept rubbing myself?  I was just trying to keep myself distracted, that's all.  He's fucking some underage bitch he met at Carl's Jr.  Some chick who spends her days making fries, that could get him put in jail, he finds that more appealing than me.  Asshole.  Our very first date, I explained to him precisely what I do for a living, and made it expressly clear that what's on the screen in no way reflects what I enjoy in real life.  How do I make that more clear to guys, a fuckin' puppet show?  You wanna make me happy in bed?  Relax, first of all.  Also, no dumb-ass complex positions, no assuming I'm into anal --- I don't do anal here 'cos I don't like it, why would I do it on my own time? --- definitely no use of the phrase 'take it, slut' or anything like it.... And no coming in my fucking face!"  She pounded on the table hard enough to bounce the ashtray; I had to make a diving lunge to catch it before it hit the cement.
"My thought?" I said.
"He likes this fast food girl because she's malleable.  She's young, she's probably not too smart, she's excited because a hip and suave older dude is into her, and she'll do anything he says.  He's probably been showing her porn videos and telling her, 'Yeah, this is what hot, mature, cool women do.'  So she probably is letting him frost her face.  And he's probably getting her prepped for ass-fucking, even though she hates it, but she doesn't wanna seem uncool, you know?  He found a female he can mold like Play-Doh.
"I honestly can't tell you what he was or is thinking.  All guys --- all people --- are different.  There's a damn good chance he heard your explanation about work versus play, and consciously wrote it off anyway, thinking he could get away with what he wanted somehow, just 'cos you were used to it or something.  When it became clear that you stuck to your guns, he just found the most manipulable object in the universe: a teenage girl.  I guess he figures if he starts now, he can mold her into the little fuck-toy he wants by the time she's eighteen.  Who knows, maybe she'd never seen a guy's dick before, at least not in person.  And to hell with him.
"And look at the bright side.  You two aren't living together, which cuts down on the complexity of the split.  You are splitting, right?"
"Damn right.  He just had to fuck the little ditz in my apartment, not his.  Never should have given him a key."
Some silence passed while we both smoked.  Then Bekka chuckled.  "My little marathon of self-pleasure earlier?  What would frost him would be telling him about it --- he's got a major hang-up for watching girls masturbate --- and that I had you as an audience."
"Round it up.  Tell him it was an appreciative audience."
She cocked one eyebrow.  "Oh?"
My turn to blush deep red.  "Yeah.  I, um, I have, uh.... I like the, uh, same thing too.  There's just something incredibly erotic, and beautiful, about watching a woman get herself off.  Yeah, we're at work, I take pictures of you and everyone else doing all sorts of stuff, but earlier was like.... Well, a little bit of my brain is going, 'There's a beautiful naked woman playing with herself right here.  The universe is giving me this little gift.  And this is just so awesome!'  I mean, I wasn't sporting wood or anything, we're at work, but yeah, you inadvertently were fulfilling one of my fantasy - slash - hangups.  I apologize."

I didn't even see her move.  It was just.... Suddenly Bekka is sitting on my lap, straddling me, facing me, and we've got our arms around each other looking into each other's eyes in silence, I  swear I could feel the heat from her bare crotch through my jeans.... Then our tongues are in each other's mouths, I'm sliding my hands up and down her back and then onto her buttocks, I remove my mouth from hers and down onto her neck, hearing her breath deepen as I kiss and lick her neck, and then a soft moan as my mouth goes to a dark firm nipple, feeling it stiffen further under my tongue while she slides her hands up my thighs, one hand moves up the inside of my thigh and I know what she's looking for and it's not a problem to find because by this point I could drive nails with my cock it's so hard, she rubs and squeezes it through my jeans....
.... And she's fumbling with my belt buckle: oh my God, this sort of thing never happens to me.
I save her time and undo my pants myself; my cock springs out, she looks down at it and breathes, "Oh, yes, beautiful," and begins stroking me up and down, I return the favor and move my hand to her vulva, rubbing her in the same manner I'd watched her do earlier, feeling her get hot and wet under my fingers, she begins breathing heavily and rhythmically pressing her torso against my hand, we have our tongues back in each other's mouths again, she suddenly pulls away and says, "Will you let me suck it?" as if it was a question at all, she smiles and begins sliding backwards off of me, and we realize there's a shadow over us that wasn't there before.

"Enjoying ourselves?" asks Mickey.
"Hi, Mickey," we chorus.  Bekka adds, "Yes, very much so."
Mickey says, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they fixed the tape drive.  We're ready to shoot."  He looks at my cock and says, "Looks like you were, too."
"Not yet," I tell him.  "I've got good control."
Bekka --- still stroking me with one hand --- says, "Really.  Do tell."
I shrug and tell her, "I just.... I can hold back for as long as I want.  I can come in five minutes or three hours.  Dunno why I can do that, it's like, sex feels really good, and for a guy, after you come it's over with for a while, so I just.... Don't.  Fucking feels too good to want it to end."
"Oh boy," Bekka breathes.... And takes me into her mouth; it's my turn to moan; the phrase "whip some skull" has never had a more literal meaning.  She is working me like an oil well pump gone wild.  My eyes start to bug out like a cartoon character's.
Mickey clears his throat and says, "I'm not kidding, it's time to shoot.  I'm taking a wild guess that you both still want your jobs, so Bekka, stop sucking our cameraman and get inside.  Lenny, put that away --- very nice, by the way --- and grab your cameras."
Bekka gave the head a kiss (I nearly grayed out just from that visual) and stood up.  "We could make Lenny a performer!  Look at that thing!"  (Personally, she was flattering me.  I'm a little bit large, but I ain't all that.)
"Oh!" said Mickey.  "And do what, have him and Chip or Dale swap jobs?  I don't think the distributor would be very happy with so many pictures of thumbs."
I got off the chair and began the task of getting my cock back in my pants --- it was like getting a 6X6 piece of lumber into a condom --- and said, "Okay, we'll be there in two minutes."
Mickey went back in. I stood in front of Bekka (realizing I could detect her odor, that tangy damp scent that is one of the true beauties on this earth) and rubbed her arms.  "Shall we continue this later?"
She looked doubtful.  "Well.... I'd love to...."
"You have things to resolve."
"We give it three days.  If you still want me, wonderful, beautiful.  I think you're really cool, and also dead sexy, so I know I'll still want you."  Bekka smirked.  "If not, it's like this never happened, it only happened in our imaginations.  Is that fair?"
She smiled and said, "That works.  I can resolve a lot in three days."
We went back in, to face a rather impatient looking director.

Three nights later, I was in a motel room in Encinitas, where Bekka and me, high on Ecstasy, spent the evening, night, and morning fucking each other cross-eyed.  But slow and easy.

And it was the second-best sex of my young life.  Scratch that, it was the second-best sex of my life, period.  (The very best sex of my life, at eighteen, was with a girl who would break my heart two weeks later.  I learned exactly what a "rebound fuck" is; anyone who tells you women won't use men for their bodies is either naive or in the priesthood.  The guy she broke up with won her back, the one she was "completely done with," and I got kicked to the curb.  But anyway....)  A lot of things helped.  We were already comfortable with each other's bodies: I'd seen her in sexual activity so often I could tell when she was putting on a show and when she was genuinely getting off.  Ironically, shooting her during girl-girl scenes taught me a lot more about how to touch her than straight scenes.  "Jackhammer" fucking was mentioned above..... Yeah, no.  She liked that when she was very close to orgasm, it pushed her over the edge, but otherwise she loved a smooth and steady rhythm.  Fine with me, so did I.
All the positions used in a porn shoot?  We used missionary, doggie style, and reverse cowgirl, and that was it.  (I liked the reverse cowgirl because it allowed her to control angle and speed, giving her more pleasure, but also because I had a wondrous view of her gorgeous perfect butt.  Same with doggie style, for the same reason.... That, and I could fuck for decades like that and not get tired or bored.  Twenty-six years later, and I can still get a rise just thinking about Bekka's butt.  It truly was a wonder of nature.)
Going down on each other was comfortable too.  Like I said above, I'd learned how to make her feel good just from shooting her with other girls: in girl-girl scenes, the attitude among performers seemed to be, "Well, if we're gonna do this, let's do it right," so they'd go down on each other with the goal of making the other girl come like crazy, screw the cameras.  Sexual orientation being as fluid as it is --- ask Kinsey or Masters & Johnson --- girls who were truly uncomfortable with interacting with other girls simply wouldn't work those shoots, and it wasn't held against them.  Only a couple girls flat-out refused to do girl-girl action, the rest ranged from "Meh, it's a living" to "Hell yeah!"  The "Meh" girls would usually prep themselves by doubling on the MDMA: get high enough on Ecstasy and you'll think Trent Lott is sexy.
I have no idea how many female performers self-identified as "bisexual."  For work purposes, it was completely irrelevant.  Like Chip and Dale's suspected off-site affair, the private lives of performers were just that: private.  Still, the weekly blood tests were conducted for a reason.  The company had a contract with a lab, you'd go in and get your draw, and results were back in three days.  All performers (plus Rita) would stop by on Monday to drop off their test results.  If you didn't have a slip, or you showed up positive for anything, you didn't work.  We were a small company, but I believe we were among the first to make blood tests mandatory.  But I digress.

Due to my powers of observation, I knew how to drive Bekka nuts with my mouth.  She couldn't fool me, and she knew it.  Observe anyone in sexual acts for a while, and you could tell in a heartbeat when it was a real orgasm or a stage orgasm.  Amazing what you learn about people through the lens of a Nikon.
Her blowing me was, um, mind-blowing.  This sounds crass and dismissive of Bekka, but I'd never had what amounted to a professional blowjob before.  And my God, it was fucking heaven.  Earlier, she'd laughingly told me her now-ex boyfriend once complained about her oral sex skills: like most guys, he liked to watch, and he was perplexed:  what felt best wasn't that interesting to watch, like her sucking on camera.  So, she started giving him a "show"-job, and he bitched that it didn't feel good at all.  For her, it was funny and frustrating at the same time, another example that he actively refused to accept the fact that what was on the screen had nothing to do with real life.  ("I felt like calmly excusing myself and going into another room, and pounding a hole in the drywall with my head," she told me.  "No human being over the age of seven is allowed to be that willfully stubborn and ignorant.")
"So do you want me giving you head to feel good or look good?" she queried.
"Why can't it be both?" he pouted like a five year old.
"Because I fucking said so!" she snapped.  "Oh, to hell with this, I'm riding you," and climbed up to straddle him.... Which disappointed him.  Holy Christ, she really did have to treat him like a child ("You were bad, so you're not getting your dick sucked, just like I told you").
At the motel, she gave me a demo, even though I'd photographed hundreds of blowjobs by that point, and she was right: a show-job ranges from the sultry to the erotic to the raunchy, and none of it feels particularly good to the guy.  Mind you, it's not bad.... it's just boring.  My show-job lasted five minutes or less, and I was in a desperate mental struggle to stay hard through most of it: I'd seen all the moves before, so I didn't have that novelty, and the amount of physical stimulation was so low I may as well have been waving my dick in the breeze.
Then she said, "And this is how it's supposed to be done."
Yes, I'd had oral sex before  ("Senator Santorum, we understand you just had your first blowjob.  How was it?"  "Not bad, but how do I get this taste out of my mouth?"), and it had been... Alright.  It always felt good.  I enjoyed it.  Very nice.  Never came once.
Then Bekka gave me head, and it was like having a whole universe suddenly appear under my feet.  I stared into the new universe and dove in.
Every molecule, every atom brushed against soothingly against my body as I swam, massaging me, suspending me in the middle of this beautiful plane of existence, my body tingling and vibrating from the sensation, the new plane simultaneously enveloping me while expanding at a rapid rate; I would never explore it all, it would be fun trying though....
.... A voice came through the ether, saying, "Lenny.  Lenny!"  The physical sensation on my cock had stopped.  "Yes...?" I whispered.
I aimed my head towards the voice.  Bekka was stroking me, keeping me up.  "Um, breathe, baby.  I looked up and you were white as a ghost, and I realized you weren't breathing.  Getting air is important!"
The realization hit me that my chest hurt like hell: I'd been holding my breath for who knows how long.  I didn't need air in my new universe, or anything else.  Just.... Bekka, and her wonderful mouth....
I breathed out, then gasped for air a few times.  Bekka looked up at me quizzically, still stroking and licking my cock like a rapidly-melting Bomb Pop.  "You okay, baby?"
"Yeah, it's just.... I've never had.... Holy lord Christ, nothing has ever felt like that, ever."
The quizzical look turned to surprise.  "You mean, no one has ever given you head before?"
"No, other girls have sucked my dick, it's just.... I've never seen what the big deal is.  It felt okay, but.... Oh my God, Bekka, I'm not trying to joke around, but what you were just doing felt like a religious experience!  I'm not kidding, you had me swimming in a new universe!  I have never, ever experienced that physical sensation in my life, nothing even compares, and it was so intense both my body and my mind became lost in it."  I paused.  "Girl, you gave me a taste of heaven.  And I'm not being funny."
Bekka's eyebrows remained cocked, then she smiled.  "Wow.  Maybe I should start my own cult. 'The Church of the Holy Head-Job.'  Have Traci Lords as our Christ figure."
"Why Traci--- Oh yeah, she claimed to be 'the best cocksucker in the business.'  Nah, too controversial.  How 'bout Lois Ayres?"
"Why Lois Ayres?"
"Because Lois Ayres gives good head --- or at least a good show-job --- and because as co-founder, I want an excuse to hang around Lois Ayres.  I've met her; ;she's smart enough and funny enough to get the joke and play along with it, to the hilt.  She'd think it was hilarious, and work it to the max."
Despite this little diversioin, my dick was still hard enough to cut diamonds, and a beautiful woman was doing happy things to it with her lips and tongue.  "Should I keep sucking you?  I'm a little worried...."
"I promise I'll keep breathing, swear to Lois."
She paused briefly and said, "I'm taking a chance on you.  You don't get the blood tests, and I know you see other women.  But baby, I wanna take your load!"
I was surprised: I'd expected a demand for a five-second warning, so she could finish me with her hand.  And she spent so much time taking partial mouthfuls at work, her interest in having me come in her mouth was a bit of a shock.
She took me in her mouth and began to work her magic briefly --- my new universe started to open up --- then stopped and said, "God, I love this cock."
That floored me.  "Are you serious?  I mean, compared to what you're used to...."
She smiled and began doing joyous things with her fingertips.  "Yeah, huge-ass cocks.  No.  You're nice and wide and you fill me up, but you're not long, so you're not bangin' into my cervix.  Do I need to explain about that?"
"No, I understand female anatomy, and know why long would be bad.  So.... How do you handle the male performers?  Some of 'em are goddamn mutants."
"Before we roll, I'll have the guy go in me, slowly, and when he's reaching the danger zone, I'll grab his cock and say, 'There.  Right there is where you stop.'  Generally, guys are really good about working with the limits I give 'em.  Sometimes they get too excited and begin banging away, but I'll put my hand on their chest as a warning, and glance down.  They get the hint.
"It's one of the reasons I like working for this company.  Every now and then some bruiser would come through and ignore the limits that me and every other girl would give them.  Some of 'em would only last a few days; they were doing it because they were just stupid.  A few guys didn't finish out their day: their attitude was, 'Those cunts just better get used to my cock.'  They'd be handed their clothes and told to be driving away in five minutes, or we'd call the cops on them for trespassing and assault.  We did call the cops, twice, on assholes who thought we were joking.  We'd tell PD to send a female officer along, so the assault accusation could be demonstrated then and there.
"Haw!  Once they sent two female cops.  Fuckin' Mongo started laughing.... Two women cops?  They ain't makin' him move!  Yeah, right: he made the mistake of shoving one of them while he was sitting down.  She smiled at him --- and you know how dangerous a smiling cop is --- and said, 'Would you like to try that standing up, sir?  It didn't seem to work with you sitting down.'  So he stands up and tries to shove her again.... And whammo!  In three seconds he was on the floor with his face being ground into the carpet, being cuffed.  Given what an asshole he'd been in the three hours he'd been there, there wasn't a more beautiful sight than watching her kneel on his neck.  And keep in mind, he was still naked.  The two cops dragged him out to their car and threw him in the back, then went back in and continued interviewing people.  And these weren't your stereotypical fat dagger types of lady cops, they were actually pretty decent looking.  But strong, no doubt.
"He called up a couple times bitching about how he wanted his money.  They sent him a check for $50 and the phone number for the company lawyer.  He got the hint and disappeared."
"Okay, I've got a dick that isn't small.  Maybe even big enough to be a performer.  There's still no way I could be a performer."
Bekka frowned.  "Why not?  You've met the intellectual giants we've got.  Having a smart male performer, and one who is consistently courteous, would be great."
"Aye, there's the rub.  My sense of humor would put the kibosh on me being a performer."
"How so?"
"Okay, you guys usually break in new performers in group scenes, right?  That way if they're incompetent, the camera guys know to just keep him out of shot.  In my case, I'm sure I could perform.... But nothing on heaven and earth could prevent me from waiting until the camera was on me, turning towards the camera, waving, and yelling, 'Hi, Mom!'"
Bekka stared at me briefly, then burst into hysterical laughter, rolling on her back and holding her stomach.  "Oh my God!  That would be fuckin' hilarious!  Now I want you in front of a camera even more!  You could add some brevity to those boring-ass loops we do!"  She continued laughing.
"Oh, yeah.  The director, the producer, the people in L.A., they'd all be over-fucking-joyed to have some punk rock smartass cracking jokes through their videos.  Baby, I'd probably end up being kneecapped in an alley somewhere.  If they wanted to do a full film, and make it funny, I actually could pull that off, I'd write a script.  But clowning on a shoot?  They'd kill me."
During all this talk, I'd started to droop some due to lack of attention.  Bekka responded to this like a nuclear energy plant tech seeing lots of flashing red lights.
"Oh shit, you're going soft!  I'm sorry, we got to talking and--- "
I smiled.  "Don't worry, baby.  It works in both directions.  It went down, it'll go back up.  Of course.... You know what you have to do...."  I said in a foreboding voice.
She looked genuinely concerned.  "Um, what?" like I was going to ask her to tongue my ass or something.
"You'll have to put it back in your mouth until I forget to breathe again."
She smiled and licked at it.  "Baby, you made me rip four good ones so far tonight.  That's wild, since I don't usually have vaginal orgasms.  I'm gonna make you come so hard you can't remember your name.  No holding back, either."
"Oooohh.... Boy.  You know, people aren't supposed to be frightened of having an orgasm."
Bekka said, "Work up your nerve, baby," and took my cock in her mouth.
Within moments, I dove back in to my new universe, reminding myself to breathe this time.

And ten minutes later, all universes joined hands and exploded as one, scattering the stars and galaxies into regions unknown.  Bekka had re-created existence, from a room in a Day's Inn in Encinitas, California.

The Big Bang Theory was incorrect.  It was (or is now) the Beautiful Blow Theory.

Bekka sat on the edge of the bed, wiping her face with a towel.  According to her, I'd shot about a half gallon of cum.  She actually liked to swallow when it was on her time, but I'd just plain come too much, so she ended up getting a facial as well as a mouthful (or two).  She didn't mind: she felt it was an accomplishment.  I lay on the bed, with what was certainly the dopiest grin ever on my face.  I'd managed to say two words: "Oh, wow," a few times, and that was all I was capable of.
I finally rolled towards her, kissed her neck, and caressed her leg.  "Thank you.... So much.  I've never done that before."
She flipped herself back onto the bed and half-snuggled against me.  "Are you serious?  No one's ever given you a blowjob before?"
"No no, I've had blowjobs before.... But not like that.  No girl has made me come, ever, by sucking me.  And holy shit.... I have never felt anything like that in my life.  Nothing, not even close.  You suck cock like an angel."
"Wow.  So in a way, I just took your oral virginity."
"Something like that, yeah."
"Too wild.  By the way, if you ate pussy any better, I'd think you were a girl.  How'd you learn that?"
"Couple of things.  First, I've got a basic fucking grasp of female anatomy.  Never figured out dudes that practically need a tiny sign with flashing lights pointing at the clit, reading 'LICK HERE.'  C'mon, it's not brain surgery.  Also, I've got good powers of observation.  Working for the studio has probably made me better at it."
"How so?"
"I noticed that in girl-girl scenes, you girls are honestly attempting to get each other off.  Am I right?"
Bekka turned a bit pink and said, "Yeah.  It could probably be the only time we come all day."
"Well, I've watched, and I've learned.  Where to lick, how to lick, what to lick.  Even the girls who are doing girl-girl strictly for the paycheck still will put in honest effort.  So it was just a matter of, 'Oh, okay.  That's how  women like it done.'"
"Very clever.  What else?"
"Well, I just like eatin' pussy.  The same way sucking cock is fun for you, I'm the same way about cunnilingus.  Why not use my mouth to provide as much pleasure as I possibly can?"
"Your attitude needs to spread.  Some guys spend thirty seconds randomly licking the general area of a woman's crotch, then say, 'There, done!  Let's get on with the fuckin'!'  Shit.  Some dudes won't do it at all."
"What's their excuse?"
"They think it's gross."
"Yeah.  It's wet and sticky, and it smells, and you have to be, like, right up against the wet stinky hole--- "
"That they can't wait to put their dicks into."
"'Zactly.  When I'm dating, I actually prefer coming across those guys, 'cos at least they're up front about it.  The fact that they're selfish jerks is front-loaded.  The ones who pretend to go down are more irritating, because you're expecting, you know, actual oral sex, not the pathetic ritual they do for themselves, to convince themselves they're 'good guys' or 'fair to women' or whatever.  I mean, God, if you don't wanna eat my pussy, just say so.  I ain't sucking your dick of course, but that thirty second incompetence bullshit is for the birds."
"Sounds like the type of guy who says shit like, 'Yeah, I'm totally for women's rights.  The broads should have all that equal shit like men.'  The same as 'I'm totally not racist, I got no problem with niggers.  Beaners, either.'"
Bekka laughed. "Oh yeah.  They'd be the ones holding signs at an ERA rally saying 'Equal Rights For The Cunts.'  You'd like to say their heart's in the right place, but you overhear them at bars talking about how political rallies are the best places to score some hippie pussy."
I swung my legs around so I was sitting upright.  "C'mon, let's go do something."
"Whatcha got in mind?"
I paused, and said, "A walk along the beach."
"Oh?  Something nice and romantic?"
"No, no, nothing like that.  Well, maybe a little bit."
She sat up next to me and gently rubbed my back.  "Lenny, we talked about this at dinner."

At dinner, we'd laid out ground rules.  She was just coming off a failed relationship and wasn't looking to start a new one.  We were fuck-friends, and that was it.  No romance.  Maybe in the distant future, but definitely not now and not for a long while.  And it might not be with me when she was ready for romance.  I had agreed with all this, and meant it.  You try to not hurt friends --- and it happens anyway --- and I wasn't going to play any sort of waiting game.
She pointed out the obvious herself.  "Shit, Lenny, I feel a little bad about not wanting to date you.  You're a good guy.  But I'm getting over being hurt.  Anything romantic would feel both forced and self-destructive.  Gosh, I only lost a couple fingers sticking my hand in this table saw before.  What's the worst that can happen this time?
"And also....Fuck."  She started to tear up.  "I'm, what, fuck-friend number three for you?  You've got women who you're friends with, who you also have sex with, and that's great....  But you deserve more!  You're too good of a guy to always have to wake up alone, you know?"
I sighed, swallowed the lump in my own throat, and agreed.  "It really sucks and hurts sometimes.  Honestly?  I don't think I could have a romantic relationship with any of the three of you.  I'm friends with all of you, and you can't change gears like that.  But I still miss having any form of romance in my life."
"How long has it been?"
I thought back.  "A little over two years since I've actually had a girlfriend."
"My God."  And she began crying quietly.
"Bekka, what's the matter?"
She sniffled and said, "That's just so sad!  Dammit Lenny, I listen to how you talk about yourself.  You're always cracking jokes, and you're a funny guy.... And you think you're just being a smartass when you call yourself a 'criminal,' a 'thug,' you call yourself a 'fucking dope dealer,' and a 'fuck-up'.... And I worry that inside you're not joking.  It just makes me sad that deep down you really do see yourself as a bad, useless person, because you're not!  Why can't your list of self-descriptions also include 'kind' and 'smart' and 'funny' and 'brave' and 'loving?'"
She sniffled and cleared her throat.  "Do you mind some five-cent analysis?"
"A lot of your friends are women.  Your sex life entirely involves women you're friends with, but no romantic connection."
"Yeah, that's where it stands right now."
"I think subconsciously you've set it up that way on purpose."
I gave her a quizzical look.  "How so?"
"Okay, I don't count.  I'm just coming off a shitty relationship, so I'm really gun-shy; you could be a cross between Patrick Swayze and the Dali Lama and I'd still blow you off."  She gave me a crafty grin.  "Although I do still plan on going back to the motel and fucking you cross-eyed all night."
I gave her my own grin.  "What a coincidence!  My evening's plans included making you come like a waterfall!"
She smiled again, but it was rather tired-looking.  We'd only taken the Ecstasy ten minutes earlier, not nearly enough time for it to kick in.... Even if we had doubled up.  She said, "But the other two?  It's like you're protecting them by keeping them at a distance at least partially because of your, uh, job.  If you got busted, they'd be distressed and worried, but their lives would go on.
"But if you had a genuine romantic connection with either of them?  She'd be devastated.  The man she loved in jail?  That would be misery.  So you keep them at arms length , just so you'll never hurt them.  You're sacrificing yourself for people you care about.  That's noble and all, but it's like you've given up on being happy.
"I guess what I'm saying is, be just a little bit selfish.  You make so many people around you happy, in big or little ways.  Think of what what you did for Jeanette--- "
"She told you about that?"
Bekka got a bit pink.  "Yeah.  That was really cool of you, just giving her the 'E' like that, just to help her and her husband put some life into their marriage.  I hope it works for them!" she smiled.  "But also asking about her husband's health first.  Not only would most dealers not have done that, it never would have occurred to most people, period."
She smiled, but was going watery-eyed again.  I stole a napkin from an empty table next to us and handed it to her.
She dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose, and said, "There.  That.  Getting me the napkin without me even hinting at needing it.  You do things like that all the damn time.  You, Lenny, are a totally awesome, caring, thoughtful dude; you show love for the world without asking for anything in return.  Heh, you break the spring on the kindness-meter.  Maybe it's me, but that should be worth something, whether it's just good karma, or you having a real girlfriend, with a lot of mutual love.  Oh and she has to be a hottie with nice long nipples, just how you like them, and she has to swallow your load with a smile."
I laughed.  "And not mind my cum having a vague chemical flavor."
Bekka looked confused.  "What?"
"Look, I use speed on a daily basis.  We can discuss the health issues later.  But I have been told, by a few women, that my cum tastes slightly of drugs.  Unavoidable, given my daily use."
Bekka seemed a bit shocked.  "Whoa.  I'd never thought about that.  Hey, you could always get sucked off for free!  Just find desperate tweaker chicks and tell 'em, 'I come dope. Suck me off and swallow, you'll get spun.'"
"A double benefit for them, too, they'd be getting a few calories in their system.  That's it, I'll start using more dope and eating a lot of fudge.  I could simultaneously get tweaker chicks high and keep them from starving to death, and all they have to do is suck me off.  Damn, I'd be the Albert Schweitzer of speedfreaks!"
We both started laughing so hard and loud the waiter walked past, very slowly, and pointedly cleared his throat.  The Ecstasy was beginning to work.


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