Just a Fluffer

The sound of flesh slapping together suddenly got louder, matched by the more rapid grunts of the two people fucking on the bed. The woman was almost beautiful with long blonde hair, and she was barely legal. She was on all fours with her ass almost hanging off the edge of the bed, and the man was standing next to the bed ramming his cock into her very wet pussy as fast as he could. He was the second in a long line of men who were here for the gangbang and the paycheck.

He was clearly about to cum and was pissed at himself that he couldn't last longer. He had really wanted to enjoy fucking this bitch as long as possible, and now it was about to end entirely too soon. Without a word, he grabbed the woman's hips and pulled her off the bed. He turned her around and pushed her to her knees. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, tilting her head back to an impossible degree. Then, after maybe twenty seconds of feverish stroking, he finally splashed his cum all over her face. He tried to aim at her mouth, wanting to fill it with his thick cum, but she had closed her mouth and her eyes. He pushed his cock against her lips and she turned her face just enough for his final jet of cum to land on her right cheek. Then she opened her eyes and licked her lips, using his dick to spread his cum all over her right cheek. After a couple seconds feeling the warm cum spread around, she looked around with a grin.

"More. I want more cum." She held that pose until someone off to her left spoke.

"Cut. Honey, that was great. Jeff, that great, too. Both of you did great. Now, Jeff, go hit the showers and Sherry will get you paid. Okay, who is next? We want you to come from off stage and walk up to her from her left. And honey, you stay on your knees and get ready to grab his cock. I want this scene to start with a blowjob and then move to fucking. Come on, people, we have eight more cumshots and only half an hour to do it all. And fluffers, I want these guys hard and ready to blow when they approach her to save time." And the director gesticulated wildly as if people could actually understand his hand signals. The next man stepped forward, hard cock pointing at the star who still had cum clinging to her face and hair.

The line of men was just off-stage, wearing only tee shirts with no pants. They were standing next to the bedroom and lined up down the hall of the house being used as a stage. The house belonged to the director and he was paying himself a huge fee for the use of his house in what he was confident would be a very popular video.

He grinned at himself when he remembered the growth statistics of bukkake porn. Seriously, men liked to watch lots of men cum on a woman. Sometimes fucking her and sometimes peeing on her, but always cumming on her. In fact, the more he thought of it, the more he was convinced to include a second woman, with the two of them licking the cum off each other. Great idea for his next video. The director glanced for just a second down the hall, and then turned his attention to the beautiful but cum-soaked face looking up at him. And then the hard cock was in her mouth and the director was cussing her out because she went for it before he had called for action.

Shelly Graham just ignored all the action on the set and all the profanity just off the set, and she focused on her job. She was a fluffer, and it was her job to get these guys hard and keep them hard until they walked on stage and gave their cocks to the star of the video. And Shelly loved her job.

She had been offered a number of starring roles, but she always turned them down. Shelly knew she was beautiful and she knew she had a sexy body and she knew she would get a bonus with her first video, but she just wasn't interested in being fucked on camera. She preferred to be off-stage, away from the camera. Truthfully, she didn't fear being on camera and had actually been filmed in several movies as the camera panned off to the side to show what was going on behind the scenes.

She just had no interest in being a porn star. While the money was attractive, she had all the sex she wanted and she could do it the way she wanted. The director never yelled at her and never told her what to do or how to do it when she was having sex, and she preferred it that way. The director simply wanted a hard dick at the right time in the video. As long as he got what he wanted, she could do what she wanted as a fluffer.

That meant Shelly got to suck a lot of cock, and she got to fuck any of them she picked. No one squelched her creativity or dictated her activities. And that was probably the main reason why she didn't want to be a porn star. When she made love, she didn't want a man telling her exactly what to do. No "point your face a little more to the right" or "move your ass a little more off the bed" or "smile some more" or "do it a little faster." When she had sex, she wanted it to be spontaneous and creative and the result of what turned him on and what turned her on.

Shelly had been a fluffer long enough to know what happened to most porn stars. Few made it past thirty and almost none of them made it past forty. The days where Kay Parker would be the star of a porn video were past. Maybe a supporting role today, but not a staring role. Directors wanted them to be in their early twenties, and preferably eighteen or nineteen. Hell, even the family fuck films had eighteen year old "high school" students with twenty-five year old parents. It was all skewed towards barely legal kids. Then the women fuck for ten or maybe fifteen years max, and were finally turned out to pasture. Or else they quit on their own. The only option for these women would be to wait thirty years and do some granny porn.

But Shelly knew that more than just their pussies and asses were fucked. Their minds had been fucked, too. Relationships were usually hard for a retired porn star, and they seldom lasted very long. And sex was often not fulfilling, after hundreds and sometimes thousands of sex scenes and partners. She knew dozens of former porn stars and very few of them were happy with their sex lives after porn.

No, Shelly didn't want to become a porn star. She loved sex too much to pursue that path. Besides, she loved cum even more than she loved fucking, and she believed porn stars never got enough cum in their videos.

But really, it was being told how and when to do everything that she hated. She wanted to enjoy being creative and spontaneous with her man or woman. And she wanted to make love, sweet love, with candles and flowers and a wonderful man or woman, or maybe a man and a woman. And sometimes she wanted it to last for hours and not for minutes.

She paused, trying to smile with a hard dick in her mouth. It might be a different man or woman every night, but she wanted it to be a warm and wonderful experience and not just someone who was simply paid to fuck her.

And then Shelly returned to the present and went back to sucking some unidentified dick.

When the shoot was over, her normal routine was to get a shower, do her makeup, and then invite one of the men out for a drink. Hopefully, it was one of the men who turned her on, and then she would take him home with her and fuck him until he quit. This time she felt like a drink but not with any of the men. None of them turned her on. But one of the other fluffers, a new girl, interested her, so she invited the four fluffers to join her. One of the other women claimed she was in a new relationship and was going out to dinner with him. And the other three claimed they were tired and just wanted to go home and enjoy some microwave Chinese food or something.

So Shelly went to her favorite bar, a blend of an Irish Pub and a classy night club, alone, and resigned herself to having a few drinks and being hit on by a bunch of jerks until she got tired of it and went home alone. When she went through the doors, she counted probably twenty couples and maybe a dozen men by themselves. After half an hour of fending off jerks, a very handsome man sat down at a table close to her. Sitting at the bar, she watched him through the large mirror behind the bar without him knowing she was watching him. And, of course, the inevitable occurred when a jerk showed up to spoil what Shelly was hoping might happen with the handsome stranger.

Bentley Moore saw it coming for several minutes. A beautiful and hot woman sitting alone at a bar is a jerk magnet. She was getting her share of jerks for the last half an hour and now the ultimate jerk had decided to show up and make her life miserable for as long as he could. Well, from the looks of her, she had to be used to it. She was guaranteed to attract her share of jerks pretty much every time she came to a place like this without a date. Especially when wearing the sexy outfit she was wearing with the amount of cleavage it was showing. The only thing left was to decide if he should get involved. The jerk kept trying to pick her up and she kept trying to let him down. This was not going to end well. Bentley grinned and settled back to watch what he expected to happen.

Bentley couldn't really blame the guy for wanting to spend time with her. The woman was average in height and obviously worked out because both her arms and legs showed shape. Her waist was slender and her ass was round and tight. Her tits were at least a C-Cup and maybe larger, and well-defined. But it was her nipples that were sure to draw the attention of jerks and assholes. Her nipples were large and hard and looked like they were clearly seeking freedom, about to pierce through her top at any second. She wore a dress in muted turquoise, if turquoise could be muted, that contrasted beautifully with her dark hair and dark eyes. The skirt was short, of course, and the top showed enough cleavage to be distracting without looking slutty.

She was exactly the reason why Bentley was sitting where he was. He never sat at the bar at places like this, but always took a table near the bar. For some reason, when unescorted women came to a place like this, they usually took a seat at the bar. And men without a date seemed to always hang around the bar because the unescorted women were there. An unescorted woman sitting alone at the bar in a place like this was considered a green light to men: alone and looking. And they always treated unescorted women sitting at the bar differently than if they were sitting alone at a table.

So Bentley always took a seat at a table close to the bar, all the better to watch the drama. If he was lucky, he would have the chance to rescue a woman from a jerk. And when he rescued her, he would invite her to his table as an excuse to keep away the jerks. It usually worked, and he would have her all to himself for drinks or for dinner. And he usually got lucky later that night.

Bentley knew he was good-looking, with his dark brown hair cut to just over his ears and just below his collar in back. His clear gray eyes looked slightly blue under the right lighting. He had a full beard that was closely trimmed. He was a couple inches over six feet tall, and he clearly worked out. His broad shoulders emphasized his flat stomach and tight abs, and his short-sleeved shirt revealed arm muscles that were just short of intimidating. He was approaching his thirty-second birthday so he was young enough to attract the attention of beautiful women, yet old enough to have experienced much of the world.

Bentley worked hard to maintain his looks and he loved the results of his efforts. He managed to take home a woman from a place like this at least once a week. When you added that to the women he called back from previous dates, Bentley enjoyed his share of blowjobs and fucking at least three times a week, and he was planning on adding this women to his list of conquests.

"Please leave me alone. Just go away." The woman had raised her voice this time, making it clear to all the people near her that she just wasn't interested in this one. Bentley was sure she was interested in someone, from the time he had spent watching her, but it was clear she just wasn't interested in this one. So he stepped up to offer his services. He gently pushed the jerk to the side and walked up to the woman like he belonged with her.

"Honey, I am sorry I am late. Traffic was horrible. I mean, welcome to Los Angeles, right?" And Bentley leaned in to kiss her on the left cheek.

"You aren't just late, you are half an hour late!" She was mentally quick and fell right into the role, giving him a very convincing dirty look. Then her eyes softened and she smiled warmly at him.

"Well, at least you are here. I saved you a seat." Bentley started to slide onto the bar stool next to her, the one she had been defending from the jerk for the last several minutes. But before he could settle onto the padded stool, he felt his arm yanked by the loser she had been pushing away, yanked hard enough to turn his body away from the woman and square to the jerk. The man leaned forward until his face was about three inches away from Bentley, who only then realized that he could get drunk just from the man's breath. The man sneered and stumbled through a warning.

"Hey, this one is mine. Go find your own slut." Bentley remained calm, an easy accomplishment in light of his extensive training in hand-to-hand combat. His Navy SEAL combat instructor had warned him many times with the same words -- "In a bar fight, anyone can get lucky. But a prepared mind and body will almost always win against a brawler, and size does not matter here." So Bentley braced himself, keeping his body square to his challenger and his arms at his side.

"No, I am sorry, but this lady belongs to no one. She has, however, been kind enough to date me for the past several months. So, if you will excuse us, we are going to enjoy the evening together, and maybe more." Bentley started to turn away and sit down but the man wouldn't allow it. He pressed his hand firmly against Bentley's chest and exhaled some more of the alcohol fumes he seemed intent to share with everyone near him.

"Beat it, man." And he tried hard to glare at Bentley, as if he had scared other men away with that expression. Bentley tried hard to hide his grin and placed his own hand over the man's hand, holding it to his chest. Somehow he managed to return the man's glare with one of his own, but Bentley's glare showed cold steel and clearly contained a real threat. He spoke through his glare just loudly enough to be heard by the people sitting closest to them.

"I am going to ask you only one time to remove your hand. If you do not remove your hand in the next three seconds, then I am going to hurt you." The two men continued glaring at each other and Bentley fully expected the man to turn and walk away, shouting profanity at him. But he didn't turn away. In fact, he didn't even blink, and Bentley realized the man was prepared to fight.

He waited the promised three seconds and then he quickly grabbed two fingers of the hand he had been covering. He twisted hard until the man's palm was exposed to the ceiling and suddenly the jerk was bent over, almost double, with his arm fully extended out to his side. The man grunted in pain but didn't say anything as he tried to retrieve his fingers. Bentley maintained his grip.

"First, the lady is not a slut. You will apologize to her or I will break your little finger." This threat appeared to motivate the man instead of intimidate him, and he spewed some serious profanity.

"She's a fucking slut. Anyone can see she's a whore who came here for a free fuck. And I was going to give her that free fuck right here on the floor until you came along. So fuck off, man, and leave the fucking cunt to me." Bentley sighed, and then twisted the man's pinkie until he felt and heard the snap. The man almost screamed in pain and tried to jerk his hand free, but Bentley was expecting that and held on tightly.

"Now, you will apologize for calling the lady all those names or I will break your ring finger. Do it now." The man immediately began his tirade again.

"The fucking whore is ugly and diseased. And you are fucking stupid. So go back to your mother's basement and leave the fucking bitch to me." There was another crack, almost a crunch this time, and another scream from the bent-over jerk.

"You have eight more fingers and I have all night. Apologize to the lady and I will let you go home. Refuse again and I will break another finger." And for emphasis, Bentley twisted the two broken fingers. The man screamed again and almost dropped to his knees. After regaining his footing and recovering from his scream, he mumbled something that Bentley couldn't quite hear.

"I am sorry but I couldn't hear you. And I am sure the lady couldn't hear you, either." Bentley tightened his grip on the broken fingers and the jerk groaned in pain.

"Okay, okay. I didn't know she was with you. Lighten up, man." He paused for a second and then tried to look at the woman from his bent over position.

"I am sorry for calling you a slut and a whore." Then he tried to straighten up but Bentley wouldn't allow it just yet.

"Okay, I am going to let you go. But you will need to leave this place. If I see you here again, I will break some more fingers. Do you understand what I am saying to you?" Bentley waited for a response, which was mumbled again. But rather than make an issue of it, he simply let go. The jerk straightened up and looked like he was going to throw a punch at Bentley, but when he saw the expression in Bentley's eyes, he changed his mind. Without a word, he turned and walked toward the door. When Bentley finally saw the man leave the pub, he turned to the attractive woman who had not said a word during the entire conflict.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you in any way?" Bentley waited for an answer, taking the opportunity to look her over as if searching for a wound or even a bruise. Finally, he looked up and into the darkest eyes he had ever seen. She smiled warmly at her rescuer.

"No, I am just fine. And thank you for saving me from that asshole. You took a risk when you faced off against him. May I buy you a drink for your efforts?" She paused, looking deep into his eyes, and really liked what she saw. She felt a tingle in her pussy and she sensed herself getting wet. She was glad she had worn panties for a change because she felt her pussy ooze some juices.

"I will graciously accept that drink, but only if you will join me at my table until your real date shows up." The two of them smiled at each other for a couple of seconds. Then she nodded to him and stood, reaching out her hand to take his as he led her the three steps to his table. He pulled out her chair and seated her, drawing from her a quiet sigh.

"Ah, a gentleman. I should have expected that from any man who rescues a damsel in distress without using any profanity at all. My very own Prince Charming!" She smiled widely and warmly at him as he sat in his chair across from her.

"Shit, I can use lots of fucking profanity when I want." Bentley burst out laughing at her expression, and he tried to minimize his comment.

"Seriously, I generally do not use profanity. I was raised by parents who taught me that profanity was not part of polite conversation. And my grandfather, my REAL hero, always said that profanity was the last resort of a weak mind. So I generally don't use profanity. I am not offended by profanity, I just tend to not use it. Unless I am in the bedroom, of course." They both laughed quietly as those last words. And then she took them back to her earlier comment.

"You know, as gallant as that was, you could have been hurt by him. We don't know if he had a knife or even a gun on him." Bentley hesitated, unsure how much of his past he should reveal to her at this moment. Finally, he spoke to her, sharing as much as he felt comfortable sharing.