I stepped out of the lecture theatre into the afternoon air, and a stranger's voice called out, demanding my attention before I'd even had a chance to take a deep breath, “Hey - you’re over six feet, right?

After a fifty-minute lecture, all I wanted was to be left the hell alone to decompress, but the voice had been coached in such a way as to deliberately quest for attention, and my eyes automatically tracked to the sound, asking in return, "I'm sorry?"

“6 Feet tall - or 1.83 Metres, if you want to get metric about it,” she said, with a smile, clearly understanding that I'd been caught in another world. “You’re obviously athletic; do you play rugby here?”

How tall was I? Did I play Rugby??  ...What???

“Yes,” I stuttered in answer.

Her smile broadened, “Yes, you’re tall enough? Or, yes, you play Rugby?”

“Err…yes, and yes,” I clarified before forcing out a question of my own, “Why?”

“Oh, I’m being paid to hand out leaflets for a production company,” she answered, "Must be tall - Must be sporty - were about the only requirements... at least, the only ones I can screen street-side."

Passing a leaflet across, she said, “Here you go: the work is a minimum of £500 per day, and you get paid a day's wage for just turning up to the screen test and interview."

Dumbfounded, I looked at the leaflet without reading it when what I was being offered clicked into place, “Oh, is this for a movie extras gig?”

The city surrounding the University I attended was effectively one large heritage site; there was always a film crew somewhere, shooting scenes for period pieces, and I’d spoken with plenty of lads who’d found five-minutes of fame, along with a pocket full of drinking money just for appearing in the background of the latest Jane Austin adaptation.  

The girl kept smiling, but there was a mischievous edge to her tone when she spoke again, answering my assumption, “I suppose that’s one way of thinking about it.”

It was the edge to her voice that finally attracted enough of my focus to really look at the girl I was in conversation with - immediately, I was forced to correct myself: this was very much a woman.

Now that she had my attention, she had my full attention: slim, early-30s, mid-length brunette hair hanging loose and showing signs of being straightened, wearing a full face of makeup and fake tan across every visible part of her body.  

With that, she'd dressed very sexy - in a tight strappy top, with a push-up bra clear through the translucent fabric, and a skirt so short that any small gust of wind would reveal if her underwear was a matched set - always assuming that she was even wearing panties which, given the overall impression she'd very deliberately tried to create, wasn't something I'd be prepared to bet on.  

This woman had dressed like someone heading to a nightclub with the sole intention of picking up a one-night stand, and if that hook-up was to take place literally standing while held roughly against a toilet door before her taxi home, then the more so the better.

I had to ask the obvious question, "Are you one of the actors? - Apologies, I just mean you don't look like a girl handing out leaflets."

"Oh, and what do girls handing out leaflets look like?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with the shadow of mirth.

"Well..." but my words died; when was the last time anyone had handed me a leaflet?

"Don't worry," she chuckled, reading the confusion in my face perfectly, "I'm just teasing.

"No, I'm not one of the actors," she answered, with a pause as we both silently acknowledged the fact I'd checked out her full figure, and she now took her revenge by giving me the once over in return, her gaze pausing for an uncomfortably long moment directly on the crotch of my jeans.

“I work on the production side of things. On set, I'd suppose you'd call me a fluffer, but on the days we're not shooting, I'm sort of the office handywoman; I do the admin, get coffee, and just about every other odd job that comes up, like leafleting."

I had to ask, "I'm sorry, 'fluffer'?"

“Really?” she asked with a slight frown before again reading my face perfectly, seeing I was earnest and laughing a little. “OK, well, look, if you come along, I guarantee you'll have a lot of fun finding out what we do.”

I put the question aside for a moment to look at the details printed on the leaflet, which basically read, 'We will give you money just for showing up - this will be the easiest money you will ever make!' and a phone number to call if I decided I wanted in.

Following my eyes, she said, "It looks too good to be true, right?

"Yes," I admitted, my eyes again travelling along her body, seeing the hand holding her skirt down against the wind and how the slight chill had made her nipples hard.

"Well, some things are, and others are exactly what they seem," she smiled with a wink, turning away with a twist that gave me just the briefest flash of a bare-arse cheek as she walked off without another word.

****

At home, I read the details printed on the leaflet from Olympic Productions. They weren't a company I'd heard of - not that I could name any film/television producers - and even a search on the internet was unrevealing.

Ultimately, what did it matter; there was a name, a number, a local street address, and the promise of £500 just for showing up - beyond the price of a bus fare, I really didn't have anything to lose by making contact.

The phone didn't even ring twice before a male voice answered, "Hello?"

“Oh, hello…” but the words died there; I could hardly say, ‘Hello, I’m calling because a cute woman, possibly without panties, told me you’d give me £500.’

My confused hesitation didn’t faze the bloke at all, “Are you one of Chloe’s?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, but I found my voice, “Some girl - apologies, I didn't get her name - passed me your leaflet; she said you were looking for movie extras?”

“Yes, something like that,” he answered, which pretty much echoed Chole's sentiment when I'd asked her that same question.

“Don’t worry about it, mate; these calls are always a bit awkward when you're first spotted - it's harder still on women - and you're not sure if the whole thing is legit.  

"Look, we're doing the interview/screentest on Saturday; I'm sure Chloe mentioned that it's money up front just for attending.

"You're under no obligation to take the job, just as we're under no obligation to offer it to you.

"If something doesn't feel right, we part as friends, and you walk away with £500 in your pocket."

There was either a lot to be said in answer to that or nothing at all, and I chose to keep it simple, "What time Saturday?"

****

I buzzed the door to the office building five minutes before my scheduled interview and got some half-scrambled instructions from the intercom telling me to take the lift to the top floor, where I was greeted by a casually dressed and well-groomed man in his 40s, who didn’t look the least bit put out to be in the office at 9 AM on a Saturday.

“Steve,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. “We spoke on the phone - Stuart Mosely - I'm the Executive Producer of the movie we're putting together here."

“Nice to meet you,” I answered, shaking the offered hand before following his gesture towards one of the offices.

Stuart closed the door behind us, offering me a seat, as he walked around the busy-looking desk to take his own.  

“OK, first things first,” he said, taking an unsealed, plain white envelope from a small pile on his desk and passing it across to me.

My eye caught the small sheaf of £50-pound notes as it was passed to me, and I glanced up to see Stuart nod at my comprehension, “As promised - I want you to understand that both the job and money are real right up front."

“Thanks,” I said, a little shocked. Despite what had been promised, I hadn't truly expected to be paid for just turning up, certainly not with an envelope of cash.

“No trouble at all; we appreciate you coming down; Chloe has a great eye for talent, and you’re exactly what we’re looking for,” Stuart said, again stretching across the table to hand me a second envelope; this one was A4 size, noticeably thicker and sealed over with tape.  

“No need to open this now," he said. "It's just the standard legal/medical stuff - contract, non-disclosure agreement, medical release form - all stuff we want you to go over in detail, in your own time, before you formally sign up for the job.

‘Medical release form’ caught my attention because it wasn't something I'd ever come across in my years of part-time employment, so it hardly seemed standard: What sort of role was I being interviewed for?

“Don’t worry,” Stuart said, catching my unspoken question, “I won’t be asking you to sign anything today – in fact, if you try, I won’t accept the forms – it’s in everyone’s best interest that you have a clear idea about what you're signing up for.”

I was nodding along, finding Stuart’s blunt, professional tone calming.

"So, what’s on offer is at least 6 full days of work, at £500 a day; there might be call-backs and/or further work, but you’re under no formal obligation to shoot them, and if you do, it's the same daily rate for every session you attend, regardless of whether we use you or not, for the remainder of the production.

“You might not be asked to perform on all 6 initial days, but you do need to be on set and available.

"Throughout the shoot, there will be chances for performance-related bonuses, which will be discussed at the time the conversation is merited."  

“Sorry,” I had to interrupt Stuart, a single word demeaning clarification, “'Perform'?”

Stuart took a moment's pause before answering, “You’re going to be shooting pornography.”

“OK, that’s…” pornography, "...porn?!?"

“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Stuart answered, seeing my obvious discomfort but dispelling my sense of doubt with his utterly emotionless, professional tone; my reaction was clearly one he’d seen before. "You're, what, twenty-one?"

"Twenty-two," I answered.

"Well, I won't treat either of us as fools by pretending you've not seen your share of pornography - it's everywhere these days, and the reason it's everywhere is because it's a billion-dollar entertainment industry.

"The concept of the production we're asking you to be part of is that of a series of sexually related games.

"We'll be using professional porn actresses, but the male talent will all be amateur guys like yourself that we've invited in off the street – basically tall, athletic types, hopefully with a nice variety of cock sizes and sexual experience – you're basically going to be the living, breathing props the girls use as they compete with one another.  

“I want to be absolutely upfront with you, Steve; as well as the most obvious point, that you’ll be performing - fucking - in a room full of people, there’s going to be elements of humiliation, exhibition, water sports, and female domination, all of which we're hoping to heighten by the fact you're an amateur performer."

Stuart paused, making sure I was still with him, and I took the opportunity to ask, "'Water Sports?'" fully sure that whatever he meant, it wouldn't involve a boat.

"Piss play," he answered bluntly. "You might not shoot the scene, but it's important you understand that if you sign on, you're agreeing to the possibility of being pissed on."

This time, when Stuart paused, he sat calmly measuring my expression, waiting for another question - none sprang to mind - before continuing, “It’s OK to be a little stunned; this conversation is always awkward with first-timers.

“Believe me, it’s a lot tougher on women; they always assume they’re about to be trafficked or drawn into a prostitution ring, and the risks are real, but we're completely above board here, you'll be paying taxes on your earnings, and your employment with Olympic Productions - as a production assistant - will be formally recorded."

He paused again, and I tried to form a question but was simply too stunned, “No, I understand; like I said, I’ve been here before, and I’ve heard almost every question you can imagine.

“What if people recognise me?’- don’t worry about it; the most hard and fast rule of shooting straight porn is that no one is looking at the guys, which is why they can work for years, while the girls have a very definite shelf life.

“In porn, the women are the undisputed stars of the show, and the girls on set will be earning 10 times what you will for their time, but all the acting is on them - you just turn up, get hard and ejaculate, beyond that no one will be paying you the slightest attention.  

“The shoot you’ll be participating in will be behind a paywall for years; again, I won't lie to you, clips will be shared, both legally and illegally online, but it won't be your face that's pirated.

“What I will say - in the unlikely event that someone does see/recognise you – is that most guys are a little in awe of men who’ve been paid to fuck on camera and, while they might not openly admit it, trust me when I say that the emotion you'll mostly encounter is envy."

I shook my head; I hadn't even considered what my friends might think, too caught up in my more immediate concern - what the fuck would my parents say if they found out?!?

My god, that was a conversation that I didn't want to have, right along with - how exactly did you find out, Mum?

“You’re right,” Stuart said, again answering the thoughts written across my face, “there's always the prospect of an awkward conversation or two in your future, but that’s reflected in the pay - danger money, of a sort - and when you explain the backend it will answer most people’s questions, even if they do end up judging you.

“People will - there’s no way around that – just as they’ll judge every other aspect of your life, but it comes down to what you can live with.”

What can I live with? - Not having to work part-time for the next six months as I finish up my dissertation - Not having to worry about rent - Not having to shop only in discount stores.

There was a lot I could live with, "What will I have to do?"

"Well, what you definitely have to do is head home and really think this over," he answered. "For the record, this will be a clean shoot, and everyone you encounter on set will have undergone a medical screen, as will you; I trust that's not going to be a problem?"

"No," I answered unthinkingly, "I train a minimum of three times a week and am careful what I eat."

"That's not the sort of health I meant," Stuart responded patiently.

"Oh," I blushed, catching his meaning. "Well, it's been a while."

"Weeks, months or years?" He asked bluntly.

I took more than a moment to work it out, which was probably more revealing than my actual answer, "About a year."

My answer earned a little mark on the notepad on Stuart's desk, which shamed me into adding, "I've been busy with Uni, sport - I have to train, it's part of my grant - and part-time work!"

My light outburst actually drew a short smile through Stuart's professional poise, "Don't worry about it, Steve; this is a safe space, no judgements whatsoever, and given the circumstances, 'about a year' is exactly the answer I was looking for."

The conversation paused there; clearly, it was my turn to speak, but I could feel my pulse beating in my ears, which was making it hard to form thoughts.

"Now is the time for questions," Stuart prompted, "before we move onto the next stage of the interview when things get really awkward."

"What sort of stuff will I be doing - on camera, I mean? - Sorry, I know you mentioned this, but..."

"That's OK, now is the time to ask," he said, not in the least bit put out.

"Honestly, for the most part, it's the ordinary, everyday stuff - vaginal, oral, anal," Stuart faltered for a half-beat after the word anal, likely interrupting the fresh blush on my cheeks. "With that, there'll be the humiliation and female domination elements I spoke of."

My face must have revealed again that I was drawing a blank, which caused Stuart to make another little mark on his notepad, "Before signing the contract, go home and search 'femdon' porn online - we'll be shooting name calling, verbal abuse, spanking, restraints, toys, piss-play and pegging."

“Pegging?” I asked, encountering another new term.  

“Industry term,” Stuart explained. “Girl-to-guy anal penetration with a strap-on dildo, the fetish of the 21st century - it's all about power reversal."

I didn’t know how to process that; I was still struggling with regular anal sex, which was going to be a completely new experience for me.

Then I realised - was - the decision had been made by my subconscious mind; I was going to agree to do this just as soon as my conscious thoughts caught up to my instinctive choice.

"What we're actually doing, Steve has very little to do with the sex; the concept here is amateur guys being used by porn actresses in sexual competition – regardless of the acts involved - the real issue that you need to make your peace with is that you are going to experience a level of humiliation on camera.

"If you can get by that, then everything else that’s asked of you will just be chalked up as having fun.”

“But I’m not gay,” I blurted out, still stuck on Stuart's explanation of pegging.

“This is a straight shoot; yes, men will be there with you on set with you throughout, but the only people lining up to fuck you will be women and - trust me when I was this - you'll realise there's nothing homosexual about it the first time one of them makes you cum.

“OK,” I mumbled, processing the information - makes me cum?

“Just OK,” Stuart asked, “you're sure you don't want to ask anything else at this point; these femdom elements are obviously new to you?”

“Nothing springs to mind,” I answered, and it wasn’t for lack of trying, but with my limited sexual experience, my imagination was struggling to make any huge leaps beyond me taking it in the arse.

The only question that came to mind was the most obvious, “Is there any extra money for doing it?”

Stuart laughed again, smiling broadly at me across the desk, “Now you’re getting with it!

“You’re right, though. It could be argued that you’ll be ‘the girl’, and if you end up getting called for that scene, it’s a double money day - one of the bonuses I mentioned - assuming you’re lucky enough to end up on your hands and knees.”

Stuart waited for a polite moment, giving me the chance to ask another question before going on, “OK, now, just before we come to the really awkward part, I ask my question: why would you agree to do this on a whim?

“Don’t get me wrong,” Stuart interjected before I had any chance to answer, “I’m not trying to put you off; I just have to ask - you’re young, good-looking and studying at an excellent university; why would you sign up to shoot with us?”

While I could argue the point about being good-looking, Stuart's comment about my University was the answer to his question. I was struggling like hell to keep my head above water, working every spare hour, missing sleep, and my studies were suffering as a result - I couldn't afford to fail, but I couldn’t afford not to work and risk failing in the process.

Throughout the interview, it was clear Stuart had heard almost every question and answer before, so I went with honesty, “The money would be more than handy; £3000 would make a real difference to me and get me through the next few months until I graduate.”

Stuart nodded understanding; he'd no doubt clocked as soon as he'd opened the door that my clothes were the opposite of designer, “That’s the nature of the beast, and there are certainly worse ways to earn money.”

If the comment had been in any way flippant, I’d have walked out, but Stuart remained dispassionately professional, and so I agreed with a small nod.

“Right, OK, as promised - the awkward part,” he said, dialling a number on his desk phone, addressing the speaker as the line was picked up, “Chole, you can come in now.”

Stuart waited for Chloe to come in, and she only took a moment to join us.  

At the sound of the door opening and then closing behind me, I turned to confirm that Chole was the woman who’d given the leaflet on campus.

As we made eye contact, she smiled, “Oh, I was hoping you’d call in.”

As she came round to stand by the desk, Stuart introduced us, “Steve, this is Chloe. You met the other day, and she’s one of our general production assistants.”

I tried to match Chloe's casual smile but struggled to relax against the tension my nerves had built up across my features.

“You look different today,” I said, sounding a little stupid, stating the obvious at an ironically Olympian level; gone were the short skirt, low-cut top, and heavy makeup; today, Chloe wore glasses, a baggy hoody over a functional knee-length dress and warm socks in trainers, with her hair roughly tied back in a ponytail.

She was still an attractive 30-something woman, but today, her looks were understated and entirely natural.

“Yes,” she agreed, deliberately mirroring the twirl she'd given me on campus and smiling more broadly. “No fishing today, just admin and giving a hand with the interviews.”

Chole accompanied the last statement with a subtle wink, but before I could guess at her meaning, Stuart spoke, “We send Chloe out as bait for the new recruits; it works a lot better than posting random adverts or putting the leaflets on notice boards in gyms and places like that.”

My eyes flicked back to Chloe, whose smile was now a smirk with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and I understood what she meant by fishing.

“Look, so now we need to see you naked - well, no; what we need is to see your cock,” Stuart explained, causing the colour to rise again in my cheeks before underling his point by adding, “erect.”

I blushed furiously now. I was used to changing at the gym and being naked in communal showers, but this was something else – I’d certainly never walked around in a public setting with a hard-on.

There was no obvious signal; Chloe simply stepped towards me and started to unbutton my shirt, “Nothing to worry about,” she said, tracing her fingers down my chest, past my flat stomach and abs.

“Among her other duties, Chloe also works on set as one of our fluffers,” Stuart said, but seeing I didn’t understand the term, he added, “She helps the guys get and stay hard when we’re shooting.”

“OK,” I said, only half-listening, more focused on Chloe, who was now unbuckling my belt and encouraging me to raise my body from the chair so she could slide my jeans and boxers down in a single motion to my ankles, bringing herself down into a kneel as part of that same process.

“That’s a good start,” David said, taking in my long, flaccid, circumcised penis, his voice flat and emotionless as he noted on his pad again.

Chloe smiled up at me and touched my cheek, “I knew you were going to have a big cock,” she said before surprising me again by taking my penis in her right hand and dropping her mouth over the flaccid head to suck on it.

I wasn’t sure how to react – beyond my body’s natural instinct, which was to react - but Stuart spoke matter-of-factly, almost bored, as he watched Chloe blow me, “Chloe has a great eye for talent, and a little size always helps; even average guys tend to look small on camera, so you need to get up to near 8 inches to feel you're fitting in; it’s not fair - ridiculous honestly - it’s just the industry, and internet pornography has warped male ideas of what’s normal.”

“Easy to say ‘fitting in,’” Chloe said, taking a breath, “when you’re not the one fitting anything anywhere.”

All I managed to add to the conversation was a soft moan as Chloe tenderly kissed the head of my hardening penis.

Sensing my nerves and how they might hold me back from getting fully erect, Stuart coached the situation by saying, “Don’t worry, Steve, this is a safe space; let Chloe make you hard - enjoy getting your cock sucked - we’ll measure your length and girth, and then the interview's done; are you OK with that?”

“Sure,” left my lips, and Chloe took that as a signal to really begin sucking on me, rolling her tongue around my head for good measure.

I’d like to have pretended I was some sort of stud, but having already admitted to not having sex in a year, there was little point, not when Chloe was blowing me so professionally, working all the right pressure points with her mouth and tongue.

Stuart watched on with little more than academic interest, making the occasional note as he watched his assistant blow me.

I found his detached attitude confusing, but the man produced pornography, stuff like this must be a fairly regular occurrence in his life - hell, he’d probably seen Chloe suck off a dozen of guys, and I felt that thought with a swell of my penis.  

I'd grown big enough for Chloe to grip my shaft with both hands as she bobbed up and down over the head of my penis - the aggressive way she was sucking my dick, playing perfectly against the tenderness with which she gripped me.

“That’s another good sign,” Stuart said, again making a note, and I looked up from Chloe’s blowjob with a questioning glance. “Both hands, I mean, good length and girth; it’ll give us more to work with when we shoot you.”

“Oh, right,” I answered, while my mind worked through a hundred variations of a single thought centred on the theme of ‘Holy shit - Holy Shit - This woman is sucking my cock!'

“OK, he’s hard now,” Chloe said, mimicking Stuart’s professional tone, as she took her mouth off my penis, although she continued to masturbate it with two-handed deliberate strokes,

Some surprise was obvious in her eyes as she looked up to meet mine, “Wait, I can feel you getting bigger?”

“Thicker,” I admitted, a little reluctant to confess that it didn’t get any longer.

Chloe shook her head ruefully at that as she continued wanking me, “You’re listening to much bullshit from mates; believe me, most of them would kill to be this length – you’re already 8 inches and as thick as my wrist – you need to get out more and show this thing off.”

“Studying,” I mumbled before Stuart cut short our side chat with, “That’ll do; let's leave the flirting until we're finished with the work."

I looked to the ceiling, taking some deep breaths, as I tried to process that I was in an office with two strangers fully erect – one of whom sucked cock as part of her daily workload – taking part in a job interview.

I felt something new touching my penis and looked down to see Chloe marking a piece of string, held taunt against the length of my cock, before noosing it around the shaft and making some further marks.

“Is that really necessary?” I asked my question, directed at Stuart as he reached across the table to take the marked string from Chloe, who'd resumed standing now her work was done.

“Generally, it’s not necessary,” he said, taking his seat, “I can’t think of a single porn actor who doesn’t exaggerate the size of their cock.”

Porn actor… my god, if anyone ever finds out, "but we're shooting kink here, so having proof of the length and girth of a cock is something we can exploit.”

“Oh, right,” I said, again thinking …if anyone ever finds out about this.

“Well, that’s us done,” Stuart said, making a final note on his pad. “I'll just reiterate, take a few days to think this over, make sure to read the contract and non-disclosure agreement, and if you’re still sure you want to go ahead, give us a call on Wednesday. We can talk logistics and send a courier for the legal stuff."

Chloe stood smiling, her attitude mirroring her boss's professionalism, even though my very hard penis stood directly between us.

Strangely, I realised the circumstances hadn’t dulled my erection in the slightest; if anything, I was harder than ever, and it occurred to me that I’d probably gone too far in my arousal and would have a very uncomfortable journey home.

“Do you mind?” Chloe asked, drawing my thoughts back to the present.

“Sorry,” I responded, worried that I’d offended her somehow by not already being halfway to the door.

“Sure, go ahead," Stuart answered, checking his watch, "we’ve 15 minutes before the next guy is due, and I've got everything I need.”

Chloe offered a “Thanks” to Stuart before stepping forward to straddle my seated posture and stand above my erection.

This time, Chloe looked me directly in the eye as she addressed her question, “Do you mind if I use this?

“I usually masturbate every morning - it helps a girl think - but I was out late with my friends last night and - it's a bit embarrassing to admit this - I didn't get a chance to cum before work."

I just looked at her, standing over me, my fully erect cock pressing up into the folds of her skirt; the mischievous twinkle in her eyes was back, and I realised we worked with very different definitions of embarrassing.

“I’d consider it a favour, I always orgasm better with something big inside me, and you’d save me from just having to finger my pussy in the toilet before the next guy arrives,” Chloe said as she pulled the front of her skirt up, only to drop it covering my cock my view, giving away nothing of herself, as she brought her pussy into position, nestling my head between her soft lips.

“You’re not wearing panties,”  I said, chalking it up as about the most stupid comment I could make - Chloe obviously knew she wasn't wearing underwear.

She smiled, “No, sometimes I have to flash pussy, or spread my arse to get a guy going past their nerves - look, no bra either,” a point she punctuated by pushing her chest out so her erect nipples stood out even through the baggy hoody.

“When you work in the industry for a while, you get used to going commando - only wearing underwear when you want it to be seen - so what if someone gets an accidental eyeful,” she finished winking, sliding her lips along the head of cock, lubricating us with the wetness of her pussy and my pre-cum

“Oh, right,” I said, barely hearing the words over the beat of my heart, which was now pulsing in my ears.

Chloe smiled, lowering herself slightly so the head of my cock was now nestled pressing hard against the tight wet opening of her vagina, “Is this OK; sorry putting to be putting you in this position - you're too thick for me really - but I really need to cum, and I’ve still a half-dozen more men to blow today.”

“No, please help yourself,” I said, trying to play it as cool as Chloe sounded.

I glanced towards Stuart, who wasn't paying us the slightest bit of attention as he worked on his computer.

My word of assent on the record, Chloe brought herself down, struggling to engulf the thick head of my penis in a single motion, “Fuck, you really are as thick as a wrist,” she said, her words etched by a breathless pain.

Closing her eyes now, Chloe savoured the moment, then forced about half of my length inside herself.

Chloe was so wet, I could feel her pussy dripping down along the exposed part of my cock, despite the fact that she was almost virginally tight.

“God, I don't think I've ever had anything so thick inside my cunt.”

Momentarily, I was shocked that she'd used the most obscene swear word I knew, but what did I care as long as I stayed inside her pussy.

"It feels amazing; it's so tight - you're so tight, I mean."

Chloe opened her eyes to smile at me, “I’m no virgin, Steve; take the compliment when it’s being given to you.”

Moving her hands to my shoulders, Chloe gave me a saucy wink before dropping her full body weight onto my crotch and forcing my remaining length inside her, almost screaming out in pain.

She took a few seconds to compose herself as a broad smile returned to again spread across her features, “Oh, fuck yes! That’s really deep - I feel so full.”

“It feels really good to me too,” I said, my voice not much more than a whisper, as I realised she didn't give a shit about my pleasure.

I’d expected her to ride me, but instead, she ground the mound of her pussy against my pelvis, keeping my full length pulsating hard inside her ‘cunt.’  

Back and forth, she moved against me, eyes closed, moaning softly, indulging her fantasies with nothing less than my full cock inside her.

Suddenly, Chloe's eyes snapped over with a hint of anger, “Are you about to fucking cum?”

“What,” I said, then realised she’d felt me, “No, it just swells like that; it can pulse up to full thickness when I fuck,” or am being fucked, as was currently the case.

“Jesus Christ,” she said, resuming her grinding. “Next time, warn a girl will you, especially if you're putting this thing anywhere her arse.”

Something clicked inside Chloe as I said, “I’ve never had anal sex,” and the intensity of her grinding increased.

"Of course you haven't," she breathed heavily in between moans, "there isn't a college girl alive who's ready to take you in the arse - I'm thirty-two, and I wouldn't have dared wiggling my butt in your direction if I'd known what you could do to it."

This caught Stuart's attention, and he spoke up over his computer screen, “Don’t worry, you’ll  be working with pro performers for the anal scenes, so there's no risk of anyone getting hurt.”

Given the feelings electrifying my cock I had no mental capacity free to process Stuart's comments; Chloe was demanding everything I had left as her panting moans increased in rapidity.

She spared me another look, again going for absolute eye contact, as she pleaded in a moan, “Is it OK if I cum on your cock?”.

“Sure,” I said, like a complete idiot, but I couldn't manage more than a single word - so thoroughly was I being used - and my cock was pulsating inside Chloe's pussy in appreciation.

"Come on, you can do it - you can do Chloe," she moaned, eyes closed, talking only to herself, "Rachel won't mind - She won't, not when you tell her - Cum all over this big cock - This is a real cock - Be a slut - Be a fucking slut Chloe... cum all over it.”

Suddenly, Chloe stopped moving, brought a hand to her mouth and bit down hard on it, sitting perfectly still, my cock fully impaled, as her body seemed to shiver all over.

I wanted to scream; I was that close to cumming myself; if Chloe was to even rock gently back and forth, I'd ejaculate.  

“Thanks,” Chloe said, after taking a full minute of deep breaths to compose herself before climbing off my lap, leaving my soaked cock impossibly hard while somehow letting her skirt fall in the same motion, so I still didn’t get even a flash of her pussy.

“OK, that really is time,” said Stuart, his voice seeming to come to me from a distance. “Read the legal pack and call me on Wednesday if you still want to take the job.”

Before Stuart had even finished speaking, Chloe had left the room, totally unconcerned about my state of arousal and the fact that she'd left me on the edge of an orgasm.

“Will you be able to calm down?” Stuart asked, with a small gesture of his hand clearly indicating that he was referring to my very erect penis, which was freely leaking precum, and not my emotional state.

Sparing me a moment when I didn't immediately leave the office, he let his professional simmer down a notch, “Don’t worry about it, Steve, that’s actually another great sign; you’re going to fit right into the industry.

"I suggest you use the spare room next door to freshen up before leaving the building; the last thing you need is to get arrested before your first day at work."

****

I pulled my clothes back into place as best I could but had no hope of squeezing my fully erect cock back inside my skinny jeans, so I made my way from Stuart’s office, deeply embarrassed, checking the coast was clear before stepping out and risking giving someone an unwanted eyeful.

In the corridor, my shame peaked with the realisation that I would have to take up the offer and masturbate in the spare room if only to save myself the greater indignity of taking the bus home with definitely-not-a-banana obviously forced down my trouser leg.

Chloe had left me absolutely desperate to cum, and I wasn’t going to be able to function in polite society until I had fulfilled the necessity of getting my cock off.

The ‘spare room next door’ wasn’t so much spare as an office where Chloe was seated, fulfilling her non-fluffer activities, in a room that was almost a mirror of the one I'd just left.

She looked up from her desk as I entered without knocking, “Sorry,” I blurted out, not just for interrupting her with my presence, but because my erect cock had preceded me into what I thought was an empty room.

“No, don’t worry,” Chloe said, smiling slightly at my still hard cock, before her eyes dropped back to her monitor and her fingers resumed tapping against her keyboard.

Without looking up a second time, she said, “I was half-expecting you; when guys get that turned on in the interview, they usually need to cum before leaving.”

“Occupational hazard, I suppose,” I said, trying to return her casual tone, which earned me a smile.

“Help yourself to tissues,” she said without looking up - there was a full box of Kleenex placed very purposely on the edge of her desk.

“Do I…” but the words died as I realised the absurdity of what I was about to ask.

Chloe didn’t even glance up from her work, “Seriously, don’t even try to pretend this is your first time masturbating; just have at it; it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“OK...” I said, looking around for somewhere to… well, it was a small office, "...thanks."

“You can look at me if you like,” Chloe said, her experience answering my thoughts without even needing to read them on my face.

“I usually make the guys face the wall, but I figure I owe you one.” Her eyes flicked away from her work momentarily, although her fingers kept moving, “Thanks again for that.”

“No problem,” I said, which wasn’t quite enough, so I added in a stutter, “I mean, the pleasure was mine.”

Chloe stopped working at that to look at me fully, sparing a long look at my hard cock, “No, trust me, the pleasure was mine.”

Her smile turned wicked once again, my hesitation only seeming to heighten whatever was going on behind her eyes, “Don’t worry, no shame here, wank it off while you look at me.”

Having Chloe staring at me was making me hornier still, and I just gave in to the urge and started jerking off as I stood over her desk, “Good boy,” she said, turning back to her work, seemingly uninterested in watching me masturbate.

I tried not to stare - it just felt rude - but standing in front of her desk, there really wasn’t anywhere to look but at Chloe, who knew it and was unconcerned.

Light on makeup, her tied back and a baggy unflattering jumper, she was nothing like the images I’d grown up masturbating to, but the fact she didn’t give a shit turned me on in a new way, as had the way I’d been used in her bosses office.

“Do you really have to… I mean, will you really…?” but I couldn’t finish the question.

Chloe looked up from her work, her eyes moving smoothly past my cock, as I pumped it, to my face, “Do I really have to blow another 6 guys today?”

My face flushed a little, which drew a smile from Chloe, “Oh, you like that? - The thought of me sucking off another half-dozen men today? Or is it the thought that I’m getting paid to do it that's making you harder?

“That turns you on, doesn’t,” she said, looking from my face to my cock, which I was beating a little harder, “do you want to know what I think about when I’m blowing them?”

God, I did, but I couldn’t make a sound, so I nodded, and Chloe laughed as she answered, “I think about the money! Every day on set – and days like today count – is a cash bonus on top of my usual admin salary, so I get down on my knees and start sucking every chance I get.

“Before you judge me, remember you just got paid to have your cock sucked so a strange man could see if you’re good enough to be in the porn movie you've agreed to shoot.”

“I’m not judging; I was thinking about the same thing; I’m really desperate for the money too,” I answered - hearing my words back, I corrected, “Well, not when… well, you know.”

“When I was blowing you?” Chloe asked with a sly grin.

“Yes, not then, when he – Stuart – was telling me about the job.”

“Good to know,” Chloe said, “I’d hate to think my skills were going to waste.”

“No, you were great!” I blurted out, drawing another laugh into a silence, which I couldn’t help but fill, “Do you ever have to… ?”

I didn’t manage to finish the question, but Chloe heard the end of my sentence anyway and even managed to translate it to answer what my subconscious had actually been driving at, which made her laughter all the more pointed, “I’m not going to fuck you!”

I blushed and began to stutter a word, but Chloe cut me off with another laugh, “Don’t even try to deny it! I’m very flattered, I assure you, but I’m also very, very gay.”

“But… ?”

“Oh, that,” Chloe said with a smile. “Look, you have a big thick cock, and I needed to cum,” she said flatly.

“What’s wrong with doing a friend a favour, and the fact that I used your cock to give myself an orgasm doesn’t make me any less gay or grateful that you were willing.

“Just in case you were in any way unclear on what Stuart explained you’d be doing – forgive me, but you’re obviously not the most experienced bloke, which is perfect for what we’re shooting – part of what you’re agreeing to is allowing a porn actress - possibly several - to strap on a rubber cock and literally fuck the cum out of you.

“You’ll be bent over and taking it up the arse as their bitch for money while a group of people stand around watching, and it won’t make you any more or less gay than when you walked on the set.”  

I hesitated mid-stroke, to which Chloe snapped before my mind could wander, “Don’t stop jerking off! The next guy will be here in a few minutes, and I’ve a pile of work to do besides.”

“Sorry,” I blustered, jerking on my cock hard. “I just realised that I might embarrass myself, that it might hurt to.. well, to get fucked.”

“Tick tock,” Chloe said, pointing to the spot where a watch might be concealed beneath her baggy jumper. “Come on - beat it harder – you’re not a teenager anymore; show me what you’ve got.”

Taking her instruction, I began to really beat my cock, which drew a nod of encouragement from Chloe, “Look, of course taking it in the arse for the first time will hurt, but I promise the actresses really know their business and will make it feel good - really good – and they’re going to have you spraying all over the place in no time.”

Chloe paused, actually pulling up her sleeve to check her watch, “You’re about to cum?”

“Yes,” I admitted; I had tissues at the ready now to catch my semen, much as I would like to make a mess of Chloe’s jumper.

“Look, Steve, you seem like a nice guy – and I reckon I still owe you one for helping me cum, so if you want – I mean, if you decide to take the job - we can arrange to meet up, and I’ll take your virginity.”

“….”

“In the arse, I mean...”

“…”

“Or my partner will...”

“…”

“The other will watch...”

“…”

“We’ll record the whole thing to help your performance anxiety...”

“…”

“I know some girls who’d watch if we bought them a few bottles of wine...”

“…”

“They’re straight - at least, mostly - but I’m sure one or two would get off fucking your bitch arse...”

“HOLY SHIT, I’m cumming!” burst from my lips, even as it exploded from the head of my cock, instantly saturating the handful of tissues I’d just managed to cover up with.

Chloe gave me a sly wink, with, “You’re such a slut,” even as she turned back to her computer and made her fingers dance along the keyboard.

“OK, now you really should get the hell out of here – don’t you have any better to do with your Saturday?”

Her tone was so dismissive that I forced my still only semi-flaccid penis into my jeans, even though cum was still dribbling from the head, and it stood out prominently beneath the thin layer of fabric.

At the door, I had to pause, “Did you mean what you said about… about helping me with my stage fright?”

“Absolutely, if you decide to take the job, I’ll give you a call, and we’ll work out a time – don’t worry about feeling guilty/taking advantage or any of that shit – trust me when I say, I will be getting mine.”

[End of Part One]