The taste of Carl’s spunk lingered in my mouth as Jorge pushed my dress up over my waist, yanked my panties to one side and thrust his length deep into my sopping snatch. I squealed in surprise at the suddenness of his intrusion, though, in my state, I had no problem accommodating him.

As he commenced pounding me, I was conscious of my pearl necklace bouncing against my breasts every time Jorge’s hips smacked into my buttocks.

I had to confess that – to misquote a favourite Eighties movie – I was horny as a ten-peckered owl.   

Glancing across the room, I saw Fran getting similar treatment, except she was on her back, legs spread wide apart, rather than on her knees, as I was. She smirked at me, just as León roared and flooded her quim with his thick seed.

I watched with fascination as León pulled out and sprayed several more copious shots of cum over Fran’s beautiful, hairless cunt, then felt a sharp slap on my bum.

Jorge, his steel rod still buried in me, leaned forward and whispered in my ear. My eyebrows shot up, and I shook my head vigorously, shocked at his suggestion.

He slapped my buttock again. “Do it,” he hissed, withdrawing his glistening cock, and slapping my arse with it.

I’d already been taken several miles beyond my comfort zone that day, and not for the first time, I wondered how on earth I’d got myself into this situation.

How much was too much?

I didn’t know the answer to that. But I had to admit, an exhilarating quiver was coursing through my stomach at the idea of his proposition, and I made my decision. Apprehensively, I crawled towards Fran.

Fran had been my best friend since childhood, and it was her enthusiasm (and idea) that had culminated with us lying on this enormous bed being used and abused like middle-aged sluts by four enthusiastic, well-hung Latino gentlemen.

As I reached my destination, I glanced up and saw her watching me carefully. Embarrassed at what I was about to do, I blushed furiously. For one moment, I considered not going through with it. Then I thought, why not? And determinedly, I bowed my head towards Fran’s wrecked pussy drenched in its viscous white messy coating.

This was my best friend!

We’d never done anything like this before – never displayed any sexual interest or attraction in the other – yet here we were, together being well and truly fucked in the same room, and I was about to bury my head between her sticky thighs.

As far as I could recall, I had never considered – never mind carried out – a lesbian or bisexual act in my life.

Very unsure of myself, my tongue sought her clitoris, and she gave a gratified sigh as intimate flesh met intimate flesh. Unlike me, Fran’s clit wasn’t shy. It sat proud from its hood, announcing its presence to the world, gleefully shouting Here I am!

Two distinct aromas assaulted my senses: the sweet and salty tang of León’s recent deposit.

And Fran’s own musk; a delightful, forbidden, alluring fragrance.

It suddenly dawned on me how sexy she was – how appealing and desirable.

She was delicious.

She’s your best friend!

Unexpectedly, I wanted to make her cum. I wanted to show the people in this room what I could do. Show them that I wasn’t just a timid, inexperienced divorcee. I wanted to show them the real me.

Is this the real me? I wondered. Rather than the shy creature who first arrived here?

The men were all avidly watching this shameless display I was putting on for them, stroking their hard cocks as I slurped at the font of my bestie’s pussy, hoovering up cum whilst stimulating Fran’s excitable nub.

Yet Fran showed even more enthusiasm when I explored the depths of her sultry cunt with my tongue, thrusting forward with her hips as her fingers pulled me further in. Her actions excited me beyond belief – beyond anything a phallus had given me these past hours, and a wicked mischievousness overcame me.

My naughtiness – my daring, if you will, was getting the better of me. I wanted more of her. I went lower, chasing León’s dripping mess between Fran’s buttocks, searching for her more reticent hidden charm.

Fran’s breath caught for a moment, then she sighed and relaxed her buttocks.

“That’s it, sweetie,” she crooned. “that’s perfect…” as I found her tight little opening and savoured the new flavours, the new sensations…

Fran screamed her pleasure as I delved inside her, and it was only a few more moments before the first of several orgasms echoed around the room, culminating in a slippery and breathless puddle of exhausted, laughing limbs.

There was a silent moment of awe before the hush in the room was finally broken.

“And… cut!”

ooOoo

“So, what’s the occasion?” I asked.

“Occasion?”

“Yes.”

“Does there have to be an occasion?”

“It’s Midday and you’re plying me with alcohol,” I pointed out.

“Ah, true.”

“So, you only do that when you’re up to something.”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

I gave her the look I reserved especially for her.

“Alright, alright!” she sighed theatrically. She opened her mouth, then hesitated.

“Um…”

“Yes…?”

She tasted her Syrah.

“I have seen the future,” she finally announced. “I have read our fortune in the tea leaves and know what we are going to do.”

I eyed her suspiciously over my glass. “You're drinking wine, not tea,” I observed dryly.

“Always the party-pooper, aren’t you?” Fran griped. I grunted as I took a sip of my own rosé.

“Not enough sex, that’s your problem.”

I coughed the mouthful I’d just taken back into the glass. 

“Now look what you made me do!”

Francesca and I were sat in the garden of our favourite café, The Runcible Spoon, for our Tuesday catch-up. She handed me a serviette so I could mop up my now rose-tinted white blouse.

“Well, are you going to tell me what you saw in the tea leaves?” I grouched sarcastically.

“I’m not sure you’re showing the appropriate enthusiasm, darling.”

“Oh, just get on with it, Fran.”

“Very well. If you insist.” She gave me a superior smile, crossed her legs and sat back in her seat. “An erotic movie.”

“I’m sorry?”

“An erotic movie.”

“You mean a porn film?”

“Porn film, blue movie, skin flick – whatever you want to call it is fine with me.”

“I’m sorry, Fran, I know we’ve known each other a long time, but I’m not sure I’d be comfortable watching an erotic movie with you.”

“I don’t want you to watch an erotic movie with me.”

“Oh. Well, then, I’m confused. What exactly is it you’ve seen us doing?”

“We’re going to be in a movie.”

I nearly dropped my glass.

“What!”

“I said we’re going to be in a porn movie.”

There was a buzzing in my head. Had she really just suggested what I thought she’d suggested? Was she mad?

“There is a young man – a director – who has made some very impressive films – not just porn, mind you. And he’s looking for some new talent.”

“What? Have you lost your mind? No! Absolutely not. No fucking way! And besides, we’re not actors.”

What was I saying – we’re not actors! Ha – like that was the important thing here! A porn movie, for chrissakes!

“Not in the strictest sense, no. But I think we’re exactly the kind of people he’s looking for.”

“Oh really? He’s looking for middle-aged, divorced women who are slightly over the hill?”

Fran looked daggers at me. “I am not over the hill! I am coming into my prime! And like I said, I know this director. Rafe’s a good guy – trustworthy, with a reputable C.V.”

“Reputable? With porn films?”

“There are several well-known film directors who started their careers in blue movies and gone on to make films that have been both well received and commercially successful.”

“And that somehow makes a difference?”

“Yes! Rafe’s good at what he does. Other filmmakers speak very highly of him and his vision. I’m telling you, he’s really got it. You’ve just got to have a little faith.”

“And open my legs in front of a camera and have my private bits on show for the entire world?”

“It’ll be well paid. Rafe looks after his people.”

“That’s not the point. I don’t care if it pays a million pounds!”

“It would be fun.”

“Fun!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Why not? You really have lost the plot, haven’t you?”

“Rafe is aiming to produce something truly different. Something that will make people stand up and take notice. He wants to enter the film he’s making in the Erotic Art Festival in London – he actually won a prize at the Porn Film Festival in Berlin last year.”

“Ha! I’m sure they’ll take notice of a cast-off like me in a film showing somewhere like that!”

“You’re bloody right they will. Just because that idiot Darren left you doesn’t make you a cast-off. You’re damned hot. We’re both hot. But you just haven’t realised it yet.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Anyway, I can’t.”

“Why not?” she repeated. 

Jesus Christ, Fran! It’s alright for you. You’ve got those gorgeous little tits, and I...” I gestured towards my own, more generous appendages, “...I have these!”

“You’re making my point for me.”

“Fran! I’m forty-five years old!”

“You’re forty-five years young, darling! And anyway, men love a mature woman.”

“It’s a preposterous idea!”

“Frankly, I think it’ll do you good to get out of your shell – or at least out of this funk you’ve been in for the last few years.”

I bit my lip. I was conscious that she wasn’t entirely wrong about the funk.

It’s still ludicrous!

I crossed my arms and frowned at her.

She sighed, exasperation all over her face. “Have you ever even given a blow-job?”

“No, but…”

“Have you ever had anal sex?”

“What? No, of course not…”

“Has a man ever gone down on you?”

I hesitated. “Yes, but…”

“But what, darling?”

“It was just the once,” I whispered.

“Jesus, darling – you have done it with the lights on, right?”

“Yes, of course!”

“But just the once?”

“Oh, shut up!”

ooOoo

It took Fran another two weeks to convince me, and even then, I nearly didn’t go through with it. Fran had always been more of an exhibitionist than I was. But here we were, starring in a blue movie.

I think it could realistically be said that, over the last three days, my sexual experience had risen several significant notches.

Actually, scratch that. Risen was too tame a word. Skyrocketed might be a more apt description.

And, to be honest, ‘sexual experience’ didn’t really cover it either; I’d discovered things I didn’t know existed. My knowledge – my understanding – of what carnal and erotic acts people actually carried out with each other was clearly woeful.

A lot of the time, it made me incredibly uncomfortable. But it was also – how shall I put it…?

Liberating!

And Fran had been right. What I’d been introduced to was pulling me out of the rut I'd plummeted into after Darren had discarded me.

ooOoo

There was a roomful of new actors when we arrived for our final day of shooting. All mature ladies and gentlemen, with one exception: a girl called Matilda who looked about twenty-two.

Whilst we waited for our briefing, Fran went to chat with Rafe, and Daniel, the main cameraman, wandered over.

“Hi, how are you doing?”

“Oh, fine, thank you.”

“Got some fabulous footage yesterday,” he said. “You’re very natural, by the way, which is a refreshing change.”

“Oh?” I was embarrassed. This man had seen everything!

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe some of the cringeworthy performances we get to witness.”

Internally, I flinched. What he’d got was raw, unadulterated Tilly – I’d been like a bitch in heat yesterday. Christ, people were going to see that!

“So, um, will the film reach a wide audience?”

“Sure, hopefully. Depends on the finished product, of course, but it’s looking good so far.”

I winced again. Well, there goes my reputation!

“What are they talking about?” I asked, pointing my chin where Rafe was in animated conversation with Fran.

“Oh, Rafe’s been rewriting the script. I think he’s discussing some of his ideas with Fran.”

“There’s a script?”

Daniel gave me a pained look. “Don’t be so cynical. Rafe’s a great director – a real artist. He’s got a talent for spotting the extraordinary when it drops in his lap, and he wants to capture that and do it justice. I suspect he wants to make some changes; maybe add a couple of scenes.”

I nodded. I’d noticed that Fran seemed to have an inside track on events and was clearly in Rafe's confidence.

“Well, Fran is pretty special, I guess,” I said lamely.

Daniel raised his eyebrows and slowly shook his head. “Oh, Tilly, you really have no idea.”

No, I didn’t. His words were confusing; it was like he knew something that he wasn’t telling me.

“So, um, any advice?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Rafe loves it, and so do I.” He grinned. “We might make a star of you.”

 “Yeah, right!”

He gave me a quizzical look. “You know Rafe is intending to enter this in the Erotic Art Festival in October?”

“I think Fran said something about that.”

“If it’s well-received, it could really be something. For you, I mean.”

“Uh, huh.” Whatever you say…

“We’ve been looking for something exceptional. And we might just have found it.”

“Mmm.”

“You and Fran will probably be invited to the screening.”

Oh God, no! No way!

“There’s something about you, Tilly. Your endearing reluctance; your naivete coupled with – with a daring soul trying to escape. If I’ve managed to do my job right – and the rushes so far are very promising – it will be unique.”

I stared at him. What on earth was he talking about?

ooOoo

I had to admit to something else Fran had been right about; I was definitely having fun. And whatever the outcome, I was no longer in that depressing place I’d inhabited before.

I hoped I wouldn’t regret it.

Somewhere, I knew, there was a story. But I hadn’t a clue how it all fitted together – even though we’d done some dialogue scenes, very little of it made sense to me, and I had no idea of Rafe’s vision.

This morning’s setting focused on the business end of a wife-swapping dinner party, with a fairly extreme – in my naïve mind, anyway – sexual initiation for the newest members. Fran was playing the matriarchal hostess, and Matilda and I were the newbie wives being inducted into the group.

The scene began with us attired in slinky evening wear appropriate for the occasion. The stockings and heels I wore under my tight-fitting, black dress made me feel sexy and sophisticated!

Matilda and I found ourselves being ‘chastised’ by Fran’s character. Fran supervised as we were instructed to remove our panties and dresses and parade in front of the other guests with our hands on our heads.

It was strangely exhilarating and, far from feeling any sense of humiliation, I found I was enjoying the experience as the older men and women ogled us. Each of the other guests then delighted in bending us over their laps in turn and spanking us, and it was making me very wet. I didn’t know why, but I got particularly excited as I bent over the stockinged legs of the other women, the feeling of exposure heightened even more at the proximity of their feminine authority. The spankings weren’t particularly hard, and I’d had no idea how erotic it could be.

“She’s enjoying it!” announced one of the women as she rudely thrust her fingers in my hairy snatch.

“Let’s see if she enjoys this!” guffawed one of the men, extracting his penis.

Forced to our knees, Matilda and I were required to suck off every cock in the room, making it a competition, with whoever managed the majority declared to have completed their initiation and excused any further degradations.

Amid much heckling, Matilda, clearly more experienced than me, won. With her fingers massaging his prostate, her final quarry shot his load down her throat, and she quickly disengaged, grabbed my face and kissed me.

I moaned as she parted my lips with her tongue and flooded my mouth with what seemed like a gallon of hot, salty cum. Her fingers delved between my legs, and I came almost immediately, flooding her hand as my legs shook.

Christ, she was a talented minx! How and when did she learn such things?

The cry of “Forfeit, forfeit!” was taken up, as I had cum without permission, and I was marched to the dining table and bent over it with my arms held securely.

And that was where I received my first taste of anal sex. I’d been forewarned, but it was still a little scary.

An older actor named Ben had been chosen to take my anal cherry. Though he pretended to be rough, he was, in fact, very careful, and as he slid slowly into my back passage, I was relieved it didn’t hurt.

Legs spread, and unable to move, I was trusting the others around me, but I quickly realised I was actually relishing not being in control, and I instinctively began pushing back against Ben as he thrust into me.

It wasn’t long before I felt him pulse and unload up my bum, and I grinned proudly as I realised how excited I must have made him.

“Bring her here!” Fran demanded.

As I was thrust in front of her, Fran smirked maliciously, leaned down and kissed me hard on the lips.

“Slut!” she hissed.

Even though I knew she was acting a role, tears sprang into my eyes at her denunciation.

Then she pulled my head towards her cunt, and I lost focus as I was enveloped between her lips, relishing the taste of her, of an act I’d only experienced for the first time yesterday, and was already addicted to.

Oh, God, she was divine, and I moaned even as I heard her spiteful laugh at my – or rather, my character’s – expense.

“That’s it, lick me, slut!”

Why did it hurt so much to hear the cruelty in someone I knew was only acting? But even so, I willingly did as she directed, forgetting for a moment that it was just an act, and that I was on camera, and I moaned like a whore on fire as I paid homage to Fran’s delectable pussy, until her orgasm hit with a shudder and she shoved me away with a screech.

Hands propelled me onto the table, and all I could see were men furiously wanking their cocks, and before I knew it, thick ropes of cum were splattering across my tits and face.

The scene supposedly ended there, with me lying on the table, covered in creamy spunk, but I was so desperate to cum again that I frantically shoved my fingers between my legs and screamed as I exploded almost instantly, squirting liquid high into the air. When I opened my eyes, all the other actors were watching me with expressions ranging from shock to bemusement.

“Was that in the script?” I heard one of them whisper uncertainly.

Shame started to well up inside my chest, but then I noticed Fran with a huge grin on her face, and Rafe nodding in satisfaction. Daniel winked and gave me a thumbs-up.

ooOoo

I reflected on the time I’d spent there and had no regrets.

If I was honest with myself, for better or worse, I had experienced something I would never forget.  It had been a ball, and the trough I'd sunk into had been well and truly consigned to my chaotic, despondent past.

There was, though, a nagging feeling at the back of my mind. Something was still missing, and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was. A sense of something unfulfilled.

From where I was sat, I could see Rafe talking urgently with Fran, using his hands for emphasis. Daniel was there, too, enthusiastically nodding his head in agreement.

The three of them made their way over to me.

“Would you and Fran be available for one more day?”

“Another day?”

Rafe nodded.

“I’d have thought you had plenty of footage.”

“I’ve got a lot, yes,” he agreed, “but there’s something I’m still trying to capture.”

Were these the changes Daniel had talked about?

“And you need me?”

He nodded again. “Oh yes. You’re very important.”

I frowned, confused. “Why? Why do you need me?”

“Tilly, over the last few days, I’ve watched you come alive.” He paused, thinking. “You’re a revelation, Tilly. It’s a joy – a delight – to see how you react when you’re on camera.” He hesitated again, searching for the right words. “Filming you, it’s like watching a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis. You’re a marvel, and I want to capture that.”

I stared at him. He was clearly blowing smoke up my ass.

“So, could you come back tomorrow?”

One more day? I guess it couldn’t hurt. Why not?

ooOoo

When we arrived the next morning, I was confused. “Where are the other actors?” I asked Jenny, the assistant.

“Oh, didn’t they tell you? It’s just you and Fran today.”

“Just the two of us?” I repeated. “Then what…?”

“He’s got enough of you with the others.” She leant down to whisper confidentially, “I think he wants to concentrate on the relationship between you and Fran.”

Me and Fran – but that would mean…

I swallowed anxiously and didn’t understand it as the butterflies started up again.

After all we’d done, why was doing a scene with Fran making me so apprehensive?

~

After wardrobe and make-up, Rafe tried to reassure me.

“I just want you to be yourself, Tilly. I know you’re nervous, but you’re so good at this. Just follow Fran’s lead like you’ve been doing.” Fran winked at me, and I realised she and Rafe had probably discussed what they wanted from today’s scene.

What they wanted from me.

But, for some reason, they hadn’t shared that.

Why not? I wondered.

“Hey?” Rafe’s voice pulled me back. “You don’t need to act. Be natural. It’s Daniel’s job to capture what we want – you don’t need to think about it. He’s excellent at that.”

I had no idea what he meant – what they were looking for, but all I could do was trust they knew what they were doing. And I had to admit, they had looked after me very well so far.

Rafe said absolutely nothing during the next incredible forty-five minutes. At times, I was vaguely conscious of the camera, especially when it came in for close-ups, but I was used to it now, and it didn’t bother me.

It was like a seduction. For what seemed like an eternity, Fran and I simply knelt on the bed facing one another, our eyes dancing, mine coy, bashful and unsure, hers mischievous, calculating and certain.

We hardly moved, yet there was a distinct charge in the room, a current flowing through the very air itself.

The dance ended as our lips finally met, the kiss electric as a tense, almost relieved sigh reverberated around the room, so enmeshed was the audience in that moment.

It was hard to focus on what was happening. I was almost as much a spectator as those around us, watching our every move, helpless to resist as I was beguiled by my friend.

I had been a very active participant during the previous few days. Today was different. Fran, not Rafe, was directing me, silently leading with adoration and passion, tempting me with her ardour, worshipping me with a devotion and tenderness that made me feel like I was the most precious treasure in the world.

The camera was always there, more often than not focusing on me, rather than Fran, capturing my reactions, and I could feel the shackles sliding off as her conviction and belief in me permeated my entire being, filling me with a confidence that threatened to explode out of me like a starburst.

With Fran’s head between my thighs, I experienced the most intense orgasm of my life, my hands tangled in her hair as her lips and tongue guided me somewhere I had no idea existed. After she’d taken me to heights I couldn’t fathom, I was literally giddy, floating in the ether. Then I found myself laughing like a drunken schoolgirl, relishing the intense feelings washing over me.

Not one to let me rest on my laurels, Fran straddled my head, offering me the opportunity to return the favour, to drink from her exquisite chalice. I moaned ecstatically as my own tongue delved between her lips into the enticing, increasingly familiar depths beyond.

She used my face, riding me, covering me with her liquid velvet offerings as my tongue teased her from clit to anal flower and back again, until she was bucking like a mule.

After she came down, she leaned her head next to mine.

“Do you love me?”

Without thinking, I responded. “I love you.”

Were we acting? I had no idea. I only knew that I meant it, and had, perhaps, always loved her. Wanted her.

“Will you accept another present?” she breathed mischievously.

“Anything…” I responded.

She giggled, raised herself marginally before audaciously releasing a salty, golden flow.

I gagged, and swallowed, and laughed with her as I accepted her gift, and didn’t mind, in fact, relished the sheer audacity of my lover.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “May I show you how much, my little butterfly, how much I love you?”

“Yes,” I whimpered, ensnared entirely in her silken web.

I was startled as Fran produced a substantial strap-on, and I watched with trepidation as she buckled it around her waist.

“Turn around,” she breathed. I did as she said, presenting my rear for her to use as she wished, submitting to her will, knowing she wouldn’t hurt me, would do only what was best for me, because she loved me.

She slid her sturdy steed into my saturated cunt with diabolical ease, and I gasped with astonishment at how it filled me, and how damned pleasurable it was. I was thrusting back, and screaming her name, screaming “I love you, Fran, I love you, love you, love you!”

“I know!” she breathed back. “And you belong to me, now, and I will look after you.”

Then she withdrew and poised her weapon at the doorway to my other entrance, making me gasp as I felt its presence.

My bottom was still recovering from yesterday’s intrusion, and for a moment, my confidence slipped.

But I needn’t have worried.

“Relax,” she breathed, and she eased into me with painstaking care and, dare I say it, love.

Fran fucked my arse with that incredible tool, and I made noises that made it clear how much I cherished her ministrations.

And then I was cumming again, and crying, and I collapsed on the bed, reduced to a pile of mush with Fran beside me, holding me, kissing me, and I was more content than I’d ever been.

~

“Brilliant! That’s a wrap, team.”

“What happens now?” I whispered, Fran’s arms still wrapped around me as Jenny appeared with robes.

“Editing. Rafe and Daniel do it together. They’ve done all their work like that.”

I reflected on the scene we’d just done and thought I might go to the festival after all.

I didn’t really care. What was important was that the elusive something – the thing that was missing.

I’d found it. And now I was complete.

ooOoo

It was time for the showing of Rafe’s film at the Erotic Art Festival.

I was nervous again. Daniel had invited us to the premiere, but I wanted to keep a low profile. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, exactly, but I didn’t want any attention.

I was about to watch myself in a porn film! What was I doing here?

As it started, I realised that I hadn’t even known what the film was called.

“The Reluctant Butterfly?” I whispered to Fran, puzzled, “What’s that mean?”

“Shh,” she fired back. “Just watch.”

I did as she said. And sat stunned as the film unfolded before me.

The movie – unbelievably – was all about me! Almost every scene – every shot – was focused on me!

When the lights came up, I just sat there, holding Fran’s hand, unable to move. I sensed people around me getting up, and then I saw someone pointing and speaking. Then others were looking, too, and the murmuring in the auditorium increased, and then someone started clapping, and everyone was standing up, and they were all smiling at us.

 “Are – are they clapping for us,” I whispered. Fran smiled tenderly, and I was astonished to see a tear falling down her cheek.

“No, darling. I rather think they’re applauding you.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because it’s you, darling.”

“Me what?”

“You still don’t see it, do you? It’s you – you’re the Reluctant Butterfly.”

“I – I can’t be!”

How? How could that possibly be me?

“Look around you, Tilly. Everyone here can see it.”

 I felt my whole body warming, a blush creeping up my face, and, bewildered, my eyes began to drop.

But then I remembered that I had nothing to be ashamed of and, defiantly, I raised my chin to face them.

And that’s when the cheering started.