Kinzi Young Makes a Halloween Porno

This is a standalone prequel to my first Literotica story, Kinzi Young Rides Again, and is set ten-and-a-half years earlier.

— Anna

Friday August 27, 2010

Last Wednesday, I turned nineteen. Next Monday was meant to be the start of my sophomore year. Today, I was nervously embarking on a new career. As you'd expect, for someone taking a step into the void, I began to revisit just how I had gotten here.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summer 2010

I'd been enrolled at Appalachian State. I'd finished my first year. But then dad lost his job. Mom hadn't worked for years, not since her injury. Continuing wasn't an option. There were loans, of course, but the family had no income. And there were my two kid sisters to think of.

The economy had apparently turned a corner. Not in Catawba County, it hadn't. There were no jobs. Not for dad, not for me. It seemed like everyone was looking, and I had no marketable skills.

But I was kinda pretty. Enough boys had tried to get with me. Some had succeeded. I wasn't a shrinking violet. I'd looked into modeling, but it seemed like a crapshoot, especially if you were 5'3" like me.

We'd all been raised religious, but I was kinda smart - yeah quitting college really sucked - and the more I thought about stuff, the more I decided it was all hokum. Or, even if it wasn't, I wasn't going to let some rules made up to subjugate women millennia ago hold me back.

And I had one advantage. I knew someone. Someone who, it was rumored, had also needed money and had needed it quick. I knew Ashley. And she was gonna be in town soon for her mom's fiftieth.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saturday August 7, 2010

"Hey, Ash!" I said, when she was close enough to hear me.

"Hey, cuz," she replied, waving in that unrestrained way she had.

We embraced. Ashley wasn't really my cousin, but she might as well have been. Her family and mine were kinda intertwined, and I felt more connected to her than my actual relatives. She was two years older than me, but we'd been close growing up. If I ever got in trouble - and it wasn't an infrequent occurrence, I might have been a straight-A student, but I was no saint - then 'cousin' Ashley had often been the one to step in.

Seated with two coffees, I took Route A. I wasn't one to beat around the bush. "So, I wanna ask a question. You can slap me if I step wrong, OK?"

"Sure, Ali," she replied. That's my name, Alison Scott. If Ashley was perturbed, she sure didn't show it.

"Word is... well, cousin Britney to be precise... that you might have gotten into... the movies. And I don't mean Harry Potter."

I looked at her, tensing. Perhaps I deserved a slap.

Ashley never broke eye contact, but I could see her mulling over a response. An almost imperceptible nod of her head indicated that she had reached a decision.

"This about your dad?" she asked, clearly reading me like the textbooks I'd just sold.

"Yeah. It's a bad time for sure," I replied.

Ashley looked around the coffee shop and spoke in a low tone, but one with not a hint of embarrassment. "That stuck-up bitch Britney is a fucking hypocrite. What with her mom being 'The Whore of Hickory,' that is."

I couldn't help but grin. Britney's mom had been a good-time-gal, and another family rumor was that she'd accepted gifts from suitors. Gifts featuring Andrew Jackson's portrait, and rolled up with a rubber band around them.

"OK," said my cousin, "I know you well enough to get you ain't no prude. Yeah, I made some movies. Just finished a shoot before flying back."

She shifted in her seat, as if some part of her anatomy was tender. Maybe it was.

"Money's good if that's what you're after. Work can be hard, but you get gaps in between. We understanding each other?"

"Yeah, you got it," I said with some relief. "You think I...?"

"Pretty little blonde thing like you? They'll eat you up," she replied with a smile. "You want... a helping hand?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's pretty much it."

"You need to think, girl," Ashley said with sudden seriousness. "It's not something to just fall into."

"But you did?" I objected.

"Yeah, which is why I'm tellin' ya to think a bit, got it?"

I supposed she had a point.

"OK, I will, promise. But... if I did decide to, you know, join you. How would I?"

"That's easy," she replied. "My guys have a call for casting. It's a web form. You fill it out. You add some photos - I know a guy if you need it, they don't have to be nude - and I ask pretty please for them to fast-track my sexy cousin."

"And then what?" I said, thinking this was almost too easy.

"Given they're in L. A., I guess they'd send a guy out here for you to audition. That's what they did with me. Or, I suppose, fly you to them."

"Do they pay?" There was no way I could afford a ticket to Los Angeles.

"Yeah, and, well, there's a market for audition movies. You might even make some cash out of it, if you signed a release."

A waitress came up and asked if we wanted anything else. We didn't.

"OK, I'll think about it properly. But... can you send me the casting call link? I'd... like to check it out."

Ashley took out her phone, tapped away for a few seconds, and said, "Done."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday August 27, 2010

So, here I was. I had thought about it. Perhaps not as deeply as Ashley had suggested, but a bit. Our financial situation was too dire for lengthy contemplation, and it was just sex, right? That's what I'd told myself, at least. Today? Today I was rather less sure.

I'd been asked to go to the Hampton Inn in Hickory. I was meeting a man called Michael. Ashley had reassured me he was a good guy. I stood nervously outside, holding my bag, and trying to get the courage to ring the bell.

The door suddenly opened and he was standing there. He seemed as startled as I was. "Alison?" he asked. "I'm sorry, they were supposed to be sending up some drinks. I heard a noise and thought..."

Gathering himself, he extended an arm, saying, "I'm Mike. Pleased to meet you."

I took it and shook. "Hi. Yes, it's Alison," I said as brightly as I could manage. The formality of a handshake was not exactly what I had been expecting.

Mike was maybe in his mid-forties, with streaks of gray in his black hair.

'Well, at least he's not ugly,' I told myself.

"Come in," he said. "Let me take your bag."

We walked through a short hallway to an area with couches and a coffee table. Through an open side door I could see a large bed, and a lump came to my throat. Calming myself, I looked around. The room - or rather suite - was nice. I wondered how much it cost to book such a big place. I had been expecting to see cameras on tripods and lightboxes, but none were apparent.

Mike motioned for me to take a seat while he put my bag on the bed. Just as he returned, the bell rang and it was room service.

The woman put a bottle of bourbon, an ice bucket, and a bottle of red wine on the table. She added four glasses, two tall, two short. I guessed there was enough alcohol for a quartet. She briefly met my eyes and smiled. For a second, I imagined that she understood exactly what I was doing there. I felt a little nauseated. But when I decide something, it's decided. 'Ain't nothing but a bit of fucking,' I told myself.

When Mike had tipped the woman and she had left, I tried to adopt a bravura tone rather at variance with my internal thoughts. "You tryin' to get me drunk, Mr. Mike?"

"It's for the nerves," he replied.

"I ain't nervous," I lied.

"Who said anything about you?" Mike said dryly, unscrewing the whiskey and pouring himself a generous measure.

He gestured to me with the bottle. "Want one, or the wine?"

"I'll take a bourbon," I answered. I'd never drunk whiskey before, so many new things today.

"My girlfriend will be pleased," said Mike, giving me a generous slug and putting some ice cubes into each glass. My face must have betrayed my inner question. "She's... in the industry. It's how we met. She knows all about what my job entails. And one of the benefits is me bringing home the occasional bottle of wine on the company's account."

He raised his glass and I did the same. "Here's to corrupting under-twenty-ones," I toasted. "Stupid fucking law," I added before taking a swig.

"Stupid fucking law," Mike replied.

But I was now more focused on acclimating to the prickling heat in my mouth. Then the rush of dark fruit flavors and maple syrup. Finally a warm, smoky glow.

"Kentucky hug?" Mike asked.

"Mmm-hmm," I said, taking a smaller sip.

"So nerves," he began. "There's no shame in being nervous. I am, every fucking time. And don't feel pressured just because I flew here. We are a reputable studio - not like some - you ever say 'stop' and we stop, OK? Hell we don't have to even start unless you say so."

"OK," I said, drinking some more whiskey.

"Anyway," he said with a smile, "Crystal said she'd bite my dick off if I give you a moment's trouble."

"Crystal?"

"She said it's OK to tell you," said Mike, "Crystal Stream is Ashley's stage name."

I gawked, then blurted, "And you and her...?"

"Yeah," he said with a rueful smile, "happens more than you might think."

"And she's...?"

"OK with this? Sure. It's business and she said you really needed this gig. Are you OK with it?"

I thought for a few moments and then shrugged. "Yeah, I'm OK."

I made a mental note to Google 'Crystal Stream' that evening.

Perhaps guessing what I was thinking, Mike added, "And she asked me to give you a message."

He adopted a truly terrible southern accent as he said, "Tell my cuz, don't want no strumming the banjo to me being fucked, OK?"

We both laughed. I kinda liked Mike.

"OK, hoss," I said, still smiling, "so how do we do this?"

"Well," replied Mike, "first some formalities. Did you bring ID? I need to see the physical ID, and we asked for a photocopy too."

I took out my license and a copy, and handed both to Mike.

"You're prettier in person," he said. "OK, that's fine. Now there is some stuff to sign, but let me explain first. Some of this is repeating the email that the studio sent you, but people don't always read that."

I had, but I nevertheless let him continue.

A lot of it was legal shit. There was the initial paperwork for 2257. There was the AIM medical stuff and release forms. There was further testing the studio did in addition to this, the whole nine inches. Then there were more forms: modeling releases, a nudity rider, and even a W-9. I guess it was good that they were focused on compliance.

I'd gotten all the necessary stuff together, and Mike said he was impressed. "You can leave signing the releases for now, unless you wanted me to film the audition today."

He looked at me. I was of two minds. "I dunno. I could kinda use the cash," I said, "but it's... a lot first thing."

He smiled surprisingly gently at me. "I wouldn't recommend jumping into filming. If you decide to go ahead, we can always do a fake audition movie later. As for cash, if things go OK today - and I see no reason why not - I'm authorized to give you a $500 advance. Would that help?"

"Yeah, that'd sure help a lot," I replied. And that one thing really did help. It helped me remember why I was doing this. And - to be honest - I wouldn't have turned Mike away from my door. I had a little bit of an older guy thing going on. Obviously so did Ashley.

"OK," said Mike, clearing away the papers into a leather satchel, "we'll come back to these later, if necessary. Let's talk about the next stage."

"Sure," I said, thinking that things were about to get real. Really real.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"So," he began. "Let's address the elephant in the room. This is weird. I still find it weird after two decades in the industry. If you are thinking 'this is all normal' then we may have a problem."

He paused. I wasn't sure whether this was for emphasis or whether he was expecting me to say something.

When Mike still said nothing, I ventured, "Yeah, of course it's weird. Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"Kinda," he replied. "But it's more than that. Let me share a secret. You're gorgeous. You're young. You're petite. You're blonde. Why wouldn't we hire you? But what I need to know is this..."

Again Mike paused. I was beginning to think he enjoyed being dramatic.

"What I need to know is that you realize it's weird. But embrace the weirdness. Not freak out, but go with the flow. And perform for the camera. Perform like you're having the most amazing time. Even if, in reality, you're thinking about a shopping list and how much longer the session is gonna go for. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded, not entirely sure what to do or say.

"And if you think this is just fucking, but with money, I need to disabuse you of that notion. It's a job, OK? And jobs can be boring or difficult or kinda crazy. What happens next is me assessing whether you can do this. Are you OK with that?"

Again I nodded.

"I need you to say it," Mike insisted.

"I get what you are saying. I understand what you want to test. Maybe we should fucking get on with the fucking, right?"

Mike had been super-serious, but now he pantomimed making a note. "Can play a brat: check."

"What the fuck does my cousin see in you? You're a fucking old man, a cradle-robber."

When Mike looked slightly taken aback, I added, "Want to make that two checks?"

"A natural," said Mike, relaxing and still maintaining the fiction of writing in a notebook.

Looking back up at me, he went on, "So if we're doing this - totally your call again - we'll step things up. How do you feel about stripping for me? It doesn't have to be a sexy dance, I'm more interested in the end point."

Once more the pause - I was now sure it was an act, or at least part of the assessment - before he asked, "Are we doing this, Alison?"

I stood up, smoothed down my short skirt - it really was very short - and began to undo my cardigan.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"So, no music, no dance moves, right?" I checked.

"You're auditioning to be a pornstar, not a pole-dancer," Mike replied good-naturedly.

Perfunctory suited me, and my clothes were soon gone. I felt kinda small without the kitten heels I'd been wearing. Then maybe that's what they were looking for. I met Mike's gaze at first, a slight defiant jut to my jaw. But it was then obvious that his eyes were wandering.

I liked my body, and I'd had few complaints. Being on the high school swim team had left me lean and toned; perhaps a little too toned around the bust. Mom had also found the money for laser treatment. The swimsuits were so high cut. She'd told me not to tell dad. Though I didn't think she had this precise circumstance in mind.

"What do you reckon?" I asked, perhaps sounding a little demanding.

"Very nice," said Mike. "Director's gonna love the bald pussy. Turn around. Good. Now stop and bend just a little. Skinny, but with a great bubble-butt. Perfect."

I hadn't blushed at being naked, but now I felt my cheeks warm just a little.

"OK," he went on, taking a DSLR from his satchel, "I'm going to take some photos. These aren't going to get published anywhere. In fact I'll let you watch me delete them when we're done. I just want to see how you act when being photographed nude. We'll start slow, and then - if you are comfortable - move on to more explicit ones. Like you holding your pussy lips open, OK?"

"Yeah, I'm OK," I replied. What I didn't say was that my nerves were being swamped by different feelings. Very different feelings indeed.

"Shall we go to the bedroom?" I asked.

Mike stood and gestured with his hand in an 'after you' manner. "Your ass looks great when you walk," he said as I passed him. I guessed he was an ass guy.

"Headshots first," said Mike. When my face must have expressed my inner confusion, he added, "Not that type, not yet anyway. Just show me those big blue eyes and let's see what your best pout looks like."

I tried. I was actually more embarrassed posing than I was by my nudity. Perhaps that was my examiner's objective. Still, Mike's encouraging feedback helped. What woman doesn't like being told she looks great?

"OK, you're doing so well," he continued. "We're gonna do some bust shots. Your beautiful face and your beautiful tits."

"No need for a wide-angle lens then," I replied dryly, but as much as anything to try to conceal my growing arousal.

"My professional opinion is that they are perfect," said Mike, perhaps in an attempt at gallantry.

"And the kind sir's personal opinion?"

Was I flirting with Ashley's guy? Well I assumed I was gonna fuck Ashley's guy and she was apparently down with that. This was so confusing.

"It coincides with my professional one," said Mike, flatly. "Now cup them. Push them together. That's great."

I did my best to knead my uncooperative flesh into a more pleasing shape as he asked. It seemed to be what he wanted. The squeezing action was doing little to dampen other feelings that were now beginning to spiral. Yeah, it was weird like Mike said, but it was also generating emotions I could no longer ignore.

"Want to take a look?" Mike asked.

This involved sitting next to him, my naked shoulder touching his clothed upper arm. I was acutely aware of our proximity. I was acutely aware of the thump of my heart.

He scrolled through the images. "The camera loves you," he said.

I could see what he meant, but felt compelled to say, "Reckon you're just a fine photographer, s'all."

Ignoring me, Mike asked, "You want to show the viewers just what a bad girl you are?"

"You mean, like my legs spread? Like, maybe fingering myself?"

"If you're comfortable with that," he replied, "I also have a... toy." He seemed to be assessing my reaction.

"I brought one too," I said, "wanna see which one is bigger?"

"Of course you did," said Mike with a grin. "Let's compare."

I scooted around and unzipped my bag, holding up the dildo in triumph.

"OK," said Mike, his eyes widening just a little. "Not much of a contest. Can you...?"

"Anywhere," I replied, enjoying myself and feeling I'd perhaps regained the initiative.

"Well," said Mike, "first things first. Let me move your bag so you have more room. If you're good, then on your back and play with yourself any way you like. I'll tell you when to use the toy."

"Whatever you say, Daddy," I beamed.

"Don't say that," said Mike, suddenly serious. "The studio doesn't do incest vids, even if it's just roleplay."

"OK," I said, deflated. "I... I didn't know."

"No problem," he soothed. "Let's get you back in the vibe. I'll take a few more photos. Just settle back. Part your legs. That's nice. Just a little wider."

"Shit!" Mike exclaimed.

"Did I do anything wrong?" I asked in something of a panic.

Mike flipped open a small cover on his camera and held up a little rectangle. "SD card is full. Give me a second. Feel free to do... whatever."

I didn't much feel like masturbating to pass the time, so instead I propped myself up on my elbows and waited for Mike to rejoin me.

"Sorry about that," he said, slotting the new card in as he returned, "mood-killer, right?"

"Kinda," I replied.

"Good," said Mike. "I could see you were getting, shall we say, rather too into the swing of things. What did I say? It's a job, yes?"

"So your SD card?" I exclaimed.

"Not important," interjected Mike. "But let's see how quickly you can recover. Close your eyes and think of a guy you really want to fuck. I don't know, Justin Timberlake or... Zac Efron."

"Are you for real?" I asked, with some feeling.

"Whoever," he replied. "Just think of someone, and start to rub your clit."

I let my upper body fall back and my fingers find the center of my pleasure nexus. I could hear the whir of the DSLR's motor and the click of its shutter. Justin Timberlake? Really? I imagined Mike nude. Yeah, that was working.

"Does that feel good?" asked Mike.

"Mmm-hmm," I replied, while still biting my bottom lip. My fingers were busy and it felt really nice.

"OK, so stop thinking about Justin, or whoever. Think about someone you don't like, or with BO, or whatever. But... and this is the trick, keep masturbating and pretend you're still as horny as fuck."

I wasn't sure what was going on. I was still horny, but maybe slightly dissociated. I wasn't so swept up in emotions, and yet I still massaged my throbbing clit. I opened my eyes and looked at Mike in some confusion.

"It's OK, Alison," he said. "You're doing great. Don't question it too much. Just rub. It can feel good and still be a job. Now take the toy, what do you want to do with it?"

Feeling partly in a dream, I took the dildo and held it before my face, turning it this way and that. I was kinda present, but not fully.

Mike was still taking photos as he spoke. "That's it, Alison, you're getting into the right headspace. Now where do you want that big boy?"

Almost on autopilot, I turned on the vibrations and lowered the tip of the dildo to my clitoris, moaning as it made contact.

"I'm gonna get undressed, Alison," said Mike, as if he was describing the weather. "I just want to check in with you. Are we cool to keep going?"

"I want you to fuck me," I whispered.

"Don't think about me. Think about someone else. Someone you'd never fuck normally. Except for work. It's only work and you need to perform."

Pushing the buzzing toy down more firmly onto my receptive flesh, I imagined John DiMarco. John DiMarco who was a neighbor. John DiMarco the sleazebag who had fired dad. There was no one I'd like to fuck less than him.

But... I could do this.

"Fuck me, John," I breathed. And in that moment it wasn't Mike, it was that scumbag DiMarco. And yet... I could deal, I could do this.

"Good girl," replied Mike. As he spoke, I felt his hardness push smoothly into my wet softness. And I raised my legs to accommodate him more deeply.

"It's OK, Alison," said Mike, now at full penetration. "You passed your audition. It's totally fine to stop."

"Fuck me, Mike. Please fuck me," I demanded, meaning every word I said.

"With considerable pleasure," he replied, pulling halfway out and then sinking back in hard and deep.

I arched my spine and pushed the back of my head against the mattress. I could feel that Mike possessed the attributes you'd expect a pornstar to possess. I could really feel it. And I could feel my pent-up emotions burst the dam of my reticence as Mike began heavily pounding me. And I loved it. I fucking loved being fucked.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How... is... the... as... sess... ment... go... ing...?" I asked, managing only a syllable between each of Mike's thumping penetrations.

"This ain't an assessment anymore, angel," he replied breathlessly. "I told you that you passed."

"Fuck... you... feel... good..." I moaned. "But... oh... fuck... what... a... bout... Ash... ley...?"

Mike paused, and I rather wished that he hadn't. "Ashley was the one who recommended I see you," he said. "She knows what's involved."

"But this? You said this isn't the assessment anymore."

"She knows everything that's involved," he explained with as much patience as a guy could manage mid-coitus. "Now do you want me to keep going or not?"

I had one more question. "What...? What is this?"

"It's fun, Alison. Sex is God's gift to us. Or rather His apology for making everything else so shitty. It's something to enjoy. To celebrate."

"Her," I murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Mike began to pull out of me.

"Please don't," I said, gripping him. "Just... just maybe kiss me. Is it OK to kiss? I mean with Ash..."

"It's OK, Alison. It's all OK."

"Promise me. Promise me it's OK."

Mike pulled my head to his chest and held me. "You're having a reaction. That's all. Today must have been an emotional rollercoaster. It's OK. I've got you."

I was acutely aware that he was still inside me. And it was... comforting was the word. I didn't want to lose that closeness with him. I needed that closeness.

"Promise," I pleaded again.

"I promise it's all OK," he said, now looking me in the eyes. "You passed the audition. We don't need to do this. We can just stop. But Ashley is fine. Would you like me to call her?"

"No. I... I believe you. I... trust you. And..."

"And...?" asked Mike quietly.

"Maybe just... just fuck me a little bit. You know... slowly. And maybe... the kissing, like I said."

"Sure, angel," he replied. "Anything you want."

Our lips met and I sort of melted into him. And, as his tongue pushed cautiously into my mouth, Mike began to rock in and out of me. Ever so slowly. Ever so gently. Until I told him that he didn't need to hold back any longer...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday September 16, 2010

It took a while for the studio to summon me. And when they did, it was Mike who made the call. Talking to him, I told myself that I'd just had an episode. It was something that could happen to anyone under the - rather extreme - circumstances. He'd been nice and professional and gotten me through it. That's all it was.

Yet I was too embarrassed to mention what had happened between us. And, as for him, he just focused on conveying the good news. And it was indeed good news. When Mike told me the fee, I had to ask him to repeat the figure. I wrote it down and gawked at its magnitude.

He went on to explain the delay, saying that there was an existing schedule. In fact, I later discovered that I had benefited from one of their starlets going into rehab, not that Mike told me that at the time. They needed a replacement for a planned Halloween flick and apparently I fit the bill.

He even said that there was talk, if all went well, of the studio helping me to relocate. But, for now, he said, they were happy enough to pay my airfare, based on what I assumed had been his write-up.

Part of me kinda hoped Mike would be involved in my first video. Part of me wanted to pick up where we had left things off. But no, instead I'd be starring with a guy called Billy. Maybe that was for the best, for Ashley in particular.

In order to hit an October 15 release date - and maximize pre-holiday clicks - filming was scheduled for mid-September. I'd had a flight booked for me and had just claimed my baggage at LAX. Sitting in a taxi, I heard Miley Cyrus's voice in my head. Her anthem came out this time last year. Maybe the driver would play some Britney Spears or Jay-Z.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday September 17, 2010

The start of a shoot can be - as I quickly found out - kinda slow and boring. There is makeup and hair to be done. The cameraman is setting up lighting and checking what angles he wants the various cameras to capture.

Fully clothed, my co-star and I met with the director and cameraman. We talked through what the director wanted and the script - or what passed for it. We spent time with me and Billy trying to arrange ourselves so as to ensure that a view of our genitals was not obscured by limbs or furniture. We were shooting in what seemed to be a luxury Los Angeles house. All floor-to-ceiling windows and brilliant white walls. The movie would be shot overexposed, much like its two stars.

At least Billy seemed friendly, though I'd heard a few of the crew speak in hushed tones about his endowment. Just what a rookie starlet needed, especially as there would be anal scenes. I'd said that I was cool with butt stuff on my application, though Mike hadn't bothered to confirm this when we met. I thought that maybe the return flight might be uncomfortable. Perhaps I should buy one of those cushions at the airport on my way home.

But now the start of filming was close. The title of the series was 'Teen Anal Sluts.' I gave the writers credit for thinking out of the box with that one. Given sodomy was the main attraction, I'd spent time undergoing a very thorough cleansing routine, with the guidance of a helpful female production assistant; I'll spare you the details. It was now time to put on my costume.

The plot was as frankly dumb as most porn. Our young heroine goes out on Halloween - in the daytime! - seeking candy. Her witch's dress is obviously very short. The gap between its hem and the tops of her red and orange striped thigh-highs is considerable. Her heels are four inches high.

She has probably suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury as she has neglected to wear panties. Undoubtedly for the same reason, she's also inserted a butt plug, with a pumpkin handle, which is what everyone does to go trick-or-treating at midday, right?

And of course she has noisy anal sex with the first guy whose door she knocks on. And of course he's hung like a stallion. Just like any normal Friday back in North Carolina, really.

There were only three settings. The driveway of the house, leading to its door. The spacious living room. And one of the bedrooms. And shooting was chronological, none of those pesky mainstream movie complications.

At least I had some lines to deliver, albeit the director wanted me to talk in a higher register than my customary contralto. I got the feeling that my career could well be dominated by teeny tiny voices. That and school uniforms. It was only a matter of time.

Career? I guess that's what this was. Time to go to work, I thought as I eased the plug between my well-lubed and super-clean ass cheeks.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I had a few moments to myself before the storm hit. It was kinda awkward sitting, what with the toy occupying much of my rectum. Nevertheless I had questions. Why was I doing this? It wasn't like I felt any shame about sex. But this new job was hardly traditional. And what would I do when I was thirty-nine not nineteen? Though frankly even thirty seemed impossibly old.

Part of my reasoning was clear. Two young girls, my kin. Mom and dad did all they could for us, wore themselves out to feed and clothe us. But life hadn't been kind to either of them. Now it was up to big sis.

But I knew there was more to it than that. I knew this was a choice. I wasn't a martyr. I had been excited about meeting Mike. I had loved fucking Mike. And a big part of me was dying for the shoot to start. For me to be the center of attention. Was it a streak of... narcissism, maybe?

I shifted and sent a wave of pressure through my insides via the plug. 'Move more careful, girl,' I told myself.

However, my biggest doubt was neither moral nor philosophical. It was practical. Could I really do this and do it well?

I'd come up with a screen name. It was Kinzi. Kinzi was no doubt the sort of girl who would top the final 'i' with a smiley face. It had been Mike who suggested the surname Young. We'd stayed in email contact, and he said the viewers would lap it up. I trusted his judgment.

But could I be her? Could Alison Scott be Kinzi Young? I had my doubts. But it seemed like the time for reconsidering was long gone.

"Kinzi, they need you." It was the production assistant and it was time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Scene 1 — I make an entrance

A sun-drenched Los Angeles driveway. One with no security gate for some unaccountable reason. An apparently young woman is skipping - yes skipping! - up it toward a large house. She's dressed as a witch. But it's doubtful that other witches would approve of her attire, which is more Hefner than Hecate. She is carrying a basket and wearing a pointed black hat.

I reached the door and pouted at the camera before ringing the bell. I waited, shifting my weight from side to side, and letting my basket sway, as teenage girls pretty much never do outside of porn.

As I stood, the cameraman tracked around to my rear. From our run-through I knew he'd soon be lying on the ground, the only way to get low enough for the up-skirt shot the director wanted. There is no point in forgetting your panties if no one knows you have forgotten them. Same deal with inserting a pumpkin butt plug. Helpfully - as you naturally would - I reached around and parted my butt cheeks for the camera, simultaneously giving a little wiggle.

But, to be honest, I began to forget about the crew. The director's occasional words still reached my ears, but everyone kinda turned to gray ghosts. Except for him. Except for Billy.

My anticipation was genuine as I waited for him to answer the door. If the - now pretty much invisible - cameraman had cared to zoom in on my crotch, he might even have detected the physical effect of this expectancy. I was curious whether the rumors about my co-star were true. Shit! Maybe I was becoming a trope myself.

I'd earlier suggested to the director that perhaps Billy and I could get acquainted before the cameras rolled. But he apparently liked the verisimilitude of his stars' unfiltered initial reactions. In my opinion, it was about the only verisimilitude in the whole exercise. Anyway, I supposed that my curiosity would be sated soon enough. And now here was Billy, towering over me in the open doorway.

"'Scuse me, sir," I began, "trick or treat."

"Aren't you a little old for trick-or-treating?" he asked, deadpan. Maybe the writers were a little self-aware after all.

I realized that I'd been using my normal voice. But no correction came, so I pressed on.

"You're never too old for trick-or-treating, sir. And I'm certainly not too young for... other things..." I took back my earlier compliment to the writers.

"And it's hours until sunset," added Billy. It occurred to me that his character didn't have a name, the script just said: man.

"That's where I'm smart, sir," I said to Billy. "I've gotten a head start on all the others."

"I bet you like having a head... start," said Billy. How was he keeping a straight face?

"I'd love to start some head for sure, sir," I replied.

"I think we can arrange for that," said Billy, waving me into the house.

I made sure to flick up my dress for both Billy and the camera as I skipped past him. Who knew porn involved so much skipping?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Scene 2 — Getting to know you

The interior of the building. A large living room with couches suitable for... well, you get the idea.

We took a break before the next scene, and the director did a brief second run-through, no doubt as there would be more going on. Or rather more taking off. I wondered whether to ask about my character's backstory and motivations, then thought better of it.

Addressing Billy, the director said, "And remember this is Kinzi's first shoot. Let's not make it too much of a baptism of fire for the poor girl, shall we?"

Billy crossed himself, but his smile remained just as broad.

Feeling I needed to assert myself, I blurted out, "I ain't afraid of no big cock." That led to polite titters from the others, ones more appropriate - to my way of thinking - for novices in a convent.

And then we were on. I tried to recall Mike's advice, but - despite all he had told me - I ended up letting my emotions run rather wild. I guess the idea that we were really doing this and that at least half a dozen guys would later be watching the video - no doubt with active right hands - was kinda intoxicating. Though perhaps panty-dampening would have been closer to the mark, if only I'd been wearing any.

"You won't be needing that hat," said Billy, closing the door behind us.

"I reckon I won't be needing this either," I replied, removing the hat and then pulling my dress up and over my head. This episode of 'Teen Anal Sluts' is brought to you by the number sixty-nine and the word realism.

But my sense of the absurd was beginning to be drowned out by less refined thoughts, by more primal urges. Despite now wearing only my thigh-highs and heels, it felt kinda hot in here.

I turned my back on Billy, leaned forward a little and repeated the butt cheek spreading trick, displaying my plugged ass.

The director had mentioned wanting to capture my reaction to Billy, but, as I turned back around, I had to say I kinda liked how my co-star's eyes were currently traversing my mostly naked body. It didn't look so much like acting to me. And that little confidence boost had me ad-libbing:

"Have you fallen under my spell?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "You are rather bewitching." There was a twinkle in Billy's eye as he spoke. I hoped it was only evident to me.

The next thing I knew, he had scooped me up - scooped me up effortlessly - and was carrying me to one of the couches. This was not in the script. It was an improvement on the script if you asked me. I found that Billy's strength and size were making me feel a little light-headed.

I was expecting a loud "cut!" but it never came. Maybe the director was a fan of the Cassavetes school of filmmaking.

Something I wasn't expecting was for Billy to sit with me face down over his knees. This could mean only one thing, and again it wasn't in the script.

"Bad little witches who plug their asses need to be punished on Halloween," said Billy portentously.

It made negative sense. Actually the amount of sense it made was an imaginary number. But, when his palm first connected heavily with my naked butt, semiotic analysis of his words was far beyond my abilities. Trying hard not to scream was more my wheelhouse.

As the second slap landed, I heard the director say, "I'm loving it, keep going. If that's OK with Kinzi, of course."

I didn't raise any formal objections. Baptism of fire had no doubt referred to my poor backside. Ow! And yet the punishment was getting me more and more excited. As was the obvious hardness pushing against my stomach.

I decided that if Billy could take the direction of the scene into his own hands - literally - so could I. And my sore ass really needed a break.

Wriggling off Billy's lap, I got onto the floor as he helpfully made room for me between his legs. The bulge in his pants looked... surely he couldn't be that big, could he? Then I guess it wasn't his thespian abilities that won him this gig.

Quickly unbuttoning and unzipping and pulling Billy's pants and boxers down, I really hoped that the cameraman had captured my honest astonishment. He was... huge! And I'd agreed to anal. Fuck!

First things first. Could I even get my lips around this monster? Only one way to find out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I was dimly aware that the cameraman was now behind my performing partner, recording Billy's point of view. I could ham it up with the best. I put both hands to my face, my mouth and eyes wide, channeling my inner Munch. "It's so big," I sighed. I assumed that the viewers would be able to see that for themselves.

I wrapped my fingers around Billy's thick root, sending a shiver up his shaft. I had small hands, but I could only just encompass his girth. A squeeze generated a murmur from my co-star.

I had been sitting back on my haunches, but now I shifted onto my knees and leaned forward. "I want to lick it," I murmured, and it wasn't acting.

Tilting my head so that my eyes weren't obscured - such a pro! - I extended my tongue and pushed it onto Billy's cock just above my hand. Then I dragged it up to and over the tip. He tasted of pre-cum. Up close, his head was crazy large. Here goes nothing.

I moved again, opened my mouth, and took Billy inside. It was a tight fit, but I did it. Go Alison - or Kinzi - or whoever. I dipped my head further, and another inch slipped in. But that was enough. Today was not a deep throat day. Not if I wanted to avoid a hospital visit.

So, Plan B. Lots of licking. Lots of spittle. Lots of handwork. And only as much of Billy's monster as I could manage comfortably. I could sell this. Looking up at Billy, I could see that I was doing an OK job.

"Move to the inversion now," instructed the director, returning to the script.

Billy and I had rehearsed this. The idea was to make a virtue of my petite body and Billy's strength. We both stood, Billy stumbling with his pants around his ankles. "Can we edit that out?" he asked.

"Cut," said the director. "OK guys, this is going great. Loved the spanking. Kinzi, what I need is for you to help Billy undress. Then we can do the inversion like we planned, OK?"

With the camera running again, I kissed Billy, going up on tiptoes to do so. The chronology of our intimacy was kinda all messed up. Then I unbuttoned his shirt and he stepped out of his pants and boxers. If he had been wearing socks at some point he was no longer.

"Nice," said the director, "now, as we rehearsed..."

I felt like an Olympic figure skater attempting a complicated lift with her partner. Billy's hands were on me, and he was lifting and turning. Momentarily, the motion recalled nothing more than an amusement park ride. The room was now upside down and I centered myself by grabbing Billy's cock as he buried his head in my previously neglected pussy.

"Bravo!" said the director. "You get that?" he asked the cameraman. With my orientation, I had no clue what the response had been, if anything.

Once I got used to the blood rushing to my head, I relaxed into the standing sixty-nine. It actually felt pretty good. Billy clearly knew how to pleasure a woman, and I did my best to reciprocate.

But sooner than I might have liked, the scene was in the can. Billy put me down and it wasn't just the inversion that had given me a flushed face. I heard Mike's voice in my head saying, 'It's a job,' but I really, really wanted to cum.

And, I thought with a gulp, the next scene was the titular anal one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Scene 3 — Well that escalated quickly!

A bedroom. Our male protagonist totally nude. Our female one still in her 'witch's' thigh-highs, and nervously contemplating the prospect of accommodating an awful lot of inches in her little ass.

The makeup lady and the production assistant both appeared as the director took us through the finale one more time. The former reapplied lip gloss and blush after my oral acrobatics.

The latter said, "Bend over, angel," in such a matter-of-fact way that I complied before I'd even thought of asking why. Only when she slid a long-necked lube applicator between my flesh and the butt plug handle - squeezing its contents into me - did I understand. And she'd done that in front of everyone. Dignity is overrated, I guess.

We'd discussed what was expected of me in the original walk-through. I guess that would have been a good time to raise any concerns. Billy was still rock hard as we talked and - unable to take my eyes off him - I knew that this was going to be a challenge. Once more I recalled Mike saying, 'You only do what you want to do.'

The thing is, I did want to do this. I had a good hit ratio for orgasming from anal in my personal life, and that was with regular-sized guys.

"So, Kinzi, I want you on your back on the bed. Please give me lots of being shocked and overwhelmed as Billy penetrates you. Comforting clit rubbing would look great. Or pinch your nipples. Or both. We all ready?"

I nodded, hoping it was true.

As we took our positions, I whispered in Billy's ear, "Go slow at first, please."

His "sure" in response sounded genuine and the kiss he gave me on the top of my head was very sweet. Now it was sodomy time.

Billy did his best to get me even more in the mood. As soon as the director said, "Action," he took my hand and gently laid me down on the bed. Then he was above me, softly kissing my lips. Then my neck. Then each of my breasts. Then my navel. Then my hairless mound. Then his active tongue was in my pussy again.

By the time Billy had gotten to cunnilingus, I was writhing and moaning, and none of it was for the camera. When I said my scripted line, I really meant it:

"I want your big cock in my tight ass."

Billy took hold of the pumpkin nestling between my butt cheeks and jiggled it. Then he pulled slowly but firmly. The potent feelings engendered by its gradual and reluctant removal had me closing my eyes and biting my bottom lip. Then my ring gave way and it was out, leaving me gaping. I could feel the chilled air inside me as my sphincter twitched.

Billy was either a total professional or enjoyed the taste of lube as he enthusiastically pushed his tongue into my ass, his fingers rubbing my buzzing clit. That felt really, really nice. Maybe I could do this.

"I'm ready," I hissed through clenched teeth. And I really thought I was.

Billy stood, spat on his hand, and slathered his cock with spittle. It was purely for the camera; my lower digestive tract was already swimming in lube. He looked down and positioned his large tip against my partially open ring. I gasped at first contact, having at least some idea what would happen next.

"Your clit," prompted the director.

I did as instructed and reached down to begin self-massage. Silently and out of frame, Billy mouthed, "OK?"

I knew my body and face were the camera's focus and so just blinked my consent. Billy got it and began to push.

"Oh fuck!" burst from my lips with no need to act for the camera.

The impassioned intensity of Billy's insistent intrusion literally left me breathless. It wasn't so much pain. It was more that my consciousness was being expanded in parallel with my anus. First anal penetration was always a mixture of thrill and overwhelming emotions. But this was like nothing I had experienced before. It was as if my very being was stretching and opening and trying desperately to accommodate an invader way too big for what it was invading.

And yet, as twinges of pain now underscored the fervor of my soaring feelings, I knew I wanted this. I knew I loved this. I knew I could do this. I rubbed frantically between my legs and an inferno began to burn out of control inside me.

A sudden lunge and I screamed as Billy defeated the last of my defenses, his head entering my distended flesh. And the extreme fullness, combined with my fervid fingers, breached a dam in me. I came thunderously yelling my profound orgasm into the open space of the room. And I was dimly aware of another dam collapsing and its pent water squirting over Billy's stomach.

There was a cry of "cut" and a spontaneous round of applause from the crew. "I never do that," I said weakly.

"That was magnificent," enthused the director. It was so strange having a conversation with Billy still inside my ass. "Are you OK to do more?"

Determinedly I said, "Yeah. I want more of this. Bring it on."

The assistant squirted more lube onto Billy's shaft then gave me a thumbs-up.

"Everyone ready?" asked the director.

Apparently they were.

"Action!"

My first words were, "Fuck me. Fuck me harder. I love your cock deep in my ass."

And I did. I really did.

Billy gripped my legs, thrust his hips forward, and thumped his massive cock hard into my body.

"Fuck, yeah!" I shouted.

My nerves were thrumming. My heart was thumping. My second orgasm was already building. I felt alive. Fucking made me feel so fucking alive.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The climaxes came so often now that they blended together. I was aware that at some point Billy had turned me over and was pounding my ass in doggy. I could also recall reaching between my legs and rubbing like a crazy woman, to the director's approbation. But no more waterworks. I wondered whether I could do that again some time.

I came to when the director instructed, "Oral now." Billy pulled out and I scooted around to face him, still on all fours.

I knew ass-to-mouth was part of the scene. While the studio was punctilious about not doing ass to vagina, A2M was apparently as unproblematic as I had found it to be in my personal life. His cock tasted of lube, but also... earthy was maybe the word. It was wonderful and I did my best to devour him. I was even able to take an extra inch of Billy's monolith. Perhaps I could manage the whole thing one day, with sufficient practice.

"Cowgirl," interjected the director.

I released Billy's cock and he lay down on his back, pointing his impressive member at the ceiling. The Washington Monument briefly came to mind. But I was keen to have the obelisk deep inside me again and clambered onto him. A brief alignment, a check on where the camera was, and I sank down onto Billy's cock. Shit! That was a lot. But my ass was already well-stretched and receptive and his size felt amazing.

As I bounced up and down, I found my clit and I squeezed a breast hard. Here I go again, I thought, as I threw my head back and yet another orgasm ripped through me.

"Great acting, you're really selling it," exclaimed the director. But I wasn't acting at all. I was just enjoying myself. I was having an amazing time.

"Cum shot now," was the next direction.

A little reluctantly, I levered myself off Billy - there was a lot of him to extract. Wondering whether he might like to hang out with me some time, I assumed the traditional position.

Kneeling with my mouth and eyes wide open and my tongue lolling out expectantly, I waited for Billy to join me. I guess he had been having a good time too as, with only a few vigorous strokes, he was groaning and tensing. His cock was merely inches from my face and I could see its head pulse as the first ribbon of semen shot toward me.

The warm fluid on my cheek felt validating, like a medal awarded for services to horny guys jerking off. I bathed in it. But the volume wasn't really commensurate with the size of his ejaculating organ.

"Great," said the director. "Good job, both of you."

To the production assistant he added, "Let's do that again later with a Magic Money Shot, OK?"

I had no idea what he meant.

Addressing me, he went on, "Now clean that cock, Kinzi."

"Sure," I replied, opening my mouth again and moving forward. I wanted to do it anyway. But the name he had used reverberated around my overstimulated brain.

Kinzi.

I was Kinzi Young. And I was a pornstar.

THE END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Epilogue - November 2010

The Halloween video had been a big success. In fact, it had been the biggest 'Teen Anal Sluts' episode to date. Suddenly I was in demand. I'd even had a competing studio contact me with an offer. I knew some girls were independents, working with many production companies. But I felt like Mike and Ashley's organization was the right fit for me. At least while I found my footing in the industry.

The appreciation was clearly mutual as they made good on the idea of helping me to relocate to L. A. They'd even found me an apartment. And the check I'd been given as a signing bonus, together with my Halloween fee, was enough to both pay the first six months' rent and to significantly ease mom and dad's minds. My parents asked me few questions about what I was doing or where the money came from. Maybe they didn't want to know.

The Los Angeles apartment had some basic furniture, but I'd have to buy more. At least I had funds to do so. Ashley had offered to help me. She knew good places to shop. And she said Mike had a truck and could move stuff if I needed that. It was nice not to be totally alone in a new city.

But the thought of seeing Mike again left me kinda conflicted. I'd really liked him. I mean Billy was a lot of fun, and I mean a lot, but Mike and I had something else. A connection maybe. I wasn't sure what that meant or what to do about it. And I was fiercely loyal to Ashley.

Which is why I felt a little nervous when Mike's name appeared on my ringing phone.

"Hey, Mike. What's up?" My voice sounded kinda brittle to me.

"Hey, Alison, or is it Kinzi now?" he replied.

"Alison is still fine," I said.

"I hear you are the next Tori Black," he teased.

"I'm gonna be bigger than Tori," I said. Maybe I would be.

"Anyway, I've got Ashley here with me..."

"Hey cuz," I heard a fainter voice say.

"I'll put you on speaker," continued Mike. "Better?"

"Yeah. Hi Ash. Thanks for offering to help again."

"No problem, Ali," she replied. "Me and Mike wanted to invite you to dinner. And..."

"And...?"

"Well, cuz, elephant in the room..." The expression immediately brought to mind Mike's use of it, back when we first met. "I know you and my wandering eyes boyfriend... shall we say, hit it off. Am I right?"

"Yeah," I said tentatively, wondering where this was going. "You set up the meeting, right? I... thought you were cool with... it."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Ali," she countered. "I am cool with it. More than cool, actually. It's just, now you are in the industry...

Well, it's only if you are interested, but Mike would kinda like a rematch. Thing is, he wants me to attend too. You OK with that cuz?"

To be honest, I'd always had a big girl-crush on Ashley. "I guess I have to learn girl-on-girl if I'm gonna be a proper pornstar," I replied.

"Happy to take you under my wing," said Ashley, a tinkle of laughter in her voice.

Taking a deep breath, I asked:

"When do you want to meet?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kinzi Young will return...