The First time
I stood at the top of the stairs, my short tartan skirt moving gently around my hips. I looked down at the camera lens as it looked up between my legs. I wondered if it saw the tiny pink bow of my satin thong, covering my freshly waxed pubis. I was wearing Cindy my favourite underwear. Gracefully one foot at a time I descended the stairs, aware my skirt hem moved across my silky firm thighs. Hiding just in the motions of the pleated kilt the full smooth hidden lips encased in their shiny prison.
I was sexually alive, and even partly covered my body was on display. The camera moved up and over the waist band of my skirt to the naked plain of my midriff, and the tiny silver butterfly glinting from my navel. The camera continued to examine me. The presentation of female flesh in a market place full of invisible voyeurs; I shivered as I continue down the stairs and the camera ever upwards to the ceiling, taking in on its way, my palpitating tummy, my light pink crop top tied in a large bow, between my full firm breasts, and my bouncy brunet hair.
I knew the camera could see in the way my breasts moved inside the confines of my top, my large nipples rubbed hard by the silky material, showing that I was both nervous and excited.
The last two steps and then there would be no turning back. This was my first dramatic entrance onto the movie set. I was hot, embarrassed, edgy and surprisingly wet.
The camera man moved around the back of me as I stepped into the huge open plan lounge, my skirt flouncing around my thighs, to show a glimpse of bare cheeks rubbing against each other, merely showing a hint of the pink satin that was cupping me, and the string that disappeared between them.
I was now inside a digital reality, that was me, and yet not me. Here I was the quintessential slut, hot and wet, and desiring nothing more than sexual gratification or as my ex-boyfriend would say, in need of a good seeing to. I giggled. I was embarrassed and no I wasn't; confused and full of emotions and turmoil yes. But still I felt my body wanting something more. It craved for the hardness of a man, but would that be enough, in some ways it frightened me for I felt my control going, my body searching for the ultimate thrill.
Since my first orgasm with my fingers, and the aching need for my first man, my body had looked for something more, that fire which would burn away all my inhibitions and my morality. Would I find it here doing the unthinkable?
I turned slightly to the left, my fingers flicking the hem upwards for the man sliding the camera under my skirt and looked for my partner.
Tara Richardson A grade student now in her first porn movie to pay of her credit card.
I had seen my partner, just before I went upstairs with Jenny the makeup girl to change. Dirk Rammer, the name was pure studio generated. He was six foot-one, and beautifully shaped without being a body builder, in shorts and T shirt he was going to be fixing my television, and I was going to tease him and he was going to fuck me. He had the experience, the looks and the confidence, as for me I had the body and the naivety.
Meeting for the first time just thirty minutes ago, those intense blue eyes that held and teased me, with assurance and coolness, his masculinity transmitted through his huge hand over mine. I shivered with the memory, as my nipples rubbed against their silk confinement.
I had done glamour modelling, from short skirts and tiny tops, to underwear, then without the bra. Finally when my panties did come off I learned two things. My first was about the pain of waxing, and the second how it felt to feel a man inside me for the first time.
The director had asked straight out at the audition, where my breasts for real, I had lifted them more in devilment at my embarrassment of being down to my panties, in front of three strangers. The eyes and my cold hard nipples had got me the role and the chance to cut my credit card bill down to a reasonable size.
He was kneeling as I walked right up to him, my hips swaying my body moving within the little I wore. He looked up at my parted thighs, offering him the view hardly hidden by the hem of my skirt. I shivered and began to gyrate slowly in front of him, my soft sensual body teasing the hard man at my feet. I was playing now to both cameras, my lustful eyes to the mobile camera, whilst my body displayed itself to the main camera on the tripod.
Immediately they disappeared from my mind as I looked down, our eyes meeting again. I was hot for him, and he knew it. I wanted him to take me, not softly like a lover, but hard like a man who wanted to conquer me. Slowly my hands began to work with my body, roaming over my belly up along the curving hills of my breasts, just grazing the silk over my hard and swollen nipples, and then down they moved back across the concave valley of my stomach, to the hem of my skirt lifting the material with the flutter of a small bird's wing, revealing my tight fitting pink satin panties. Showing to the camera my camel toe definition encased inside.
I bent slightly along my hip, feeling the hem of my tiny micro mini ride high over my bottom. The camera man moved in behind me, taking my bare cheeks clenched tight over the string of my thong, showing the soft yet firm cushions.
I was wringing wet and so hot I felt dizzy.
This was my fantasy to be mastered to be taken by this hard man, my eyes begged for him. I wanted his experience to wipe out my naivety. To show me what was hidden inside my body. I knew from the movies I had been given, what the script was, and what would be expected of me. Yet strangely the thought of being in front of strangers and cameras had turned me on.
I jumped out of my reflexions when his hand touched my knee, fingers spreading like a fan to move along my quivering thigh. Slowly he stood up towering over me, his hand remaining stopped now just below the hem of my skirt.
Now it was my turn to look up at the incredibly handsome Greek statue. Short blond hair curled around his ears, and along his forehead. Intense blue eyes separated by the straight bridge of his nose, stripped me of everything. I was helpless, he was all powerful, and my body craved for him. The delicate lips smiled, emphasizing in their softness his granite chin below. Two firm tendons sculptured the lines of his neck down to where they met the T shirt, the thin cotton taught around his chest and hard belly, leading my eyes to his shorts and the enormous bulge beneath the worn denim cut offs.
