”I feel like a whore in church,” Kia mumbled.

“You’re in a church, you whore!” Kat laughed.

Calling the location a church required either a time machine or a total disregard for reality. At one point in time, it had been a classic, Christian church. The rigors of time, abandonment, and the now-gone cult of Satanists that claimed it as their own had left it a sullied, desanctified shell.

Multicolored beams of light trickled through panes of stained glass, mixing with rays of natural sunlight shining through the multitude of broken panes. The altar had been desecrated; the crosses had been painted black and upturned, devil horns, barbed tails, and obscene appendages spray-painted on the vandalized statues and paintings of saints. Litter, clutter, and all sorts of nature's refuse covered almost every surface. It was perfect.

By that time, I’d grown used to being shadowed by cameramen. My friends had also grown comfortable being recorded every minute of every day.

“Bobby,” I address my neighbor and his bandmates, “you guys set up just to the right of the altar.”

I turned to my constant companion. “Matt, please get the generator going, so we can get the light and music gear up and running.”

I continued. “Girls, it’s showtime! Get yourselves ready.”

The shuffling hustle and bustle of preparations took a few minutes. The dank, musty odor of the dilapidated church took on a weed-like scent as everyone fired up some herbal relaxation. I declined, for the moment, as there was too much to be done.

“Move the amp three inches to the left, so we can see the angels in the stained glass window looking like they’re giving each other oral.”

“Susan, lose the bra. Your tits are too sexy to cover up. Don’t pout at me, young lady! You’re fucking hot, and you know it.”

“Tee-O! Are you wearing underwear? That’s not acceptable.”

“Why don’t you come over here and take them off me, then.” He laughed at me, challenging me.

“Not my department. Kia! Your boyfriend is overdressed. Cut off his ‘tighty whities,’ so we can see some cock pressing against his pants.”

Soon, everyone was in place, the lights were on, and the fog was rolling.

“Roll cameras! Places!”

Everyone just stood there.

“Cut! What the fuck?”

“You’re not in your outfit, Mary Anne.”

“Fuck. Sorry. I’m not used to being in front of the camera.”

I slipped out of my clothing and into my perfectly-chosen dress. It was a Betty Crocker dress if there was one. It was mid-thigh with a little bit of ruffled lace on the hem. In a dark blue with pale polka dots and a scooped neck, the dress screamed “housewife,” traditionally, but was still sexy.

“Everybody still ready? Roll!”

The band, Dangerous Cougar, adopted their “war faces.” Under my tutelage, they looked like a famous rock and roll band. They were actually well on that path, already. A clicking sound, a fast-paced clock, filled the air.

The drummer, Steve’s, voice rang out as he held his drumsticks crossed above his head. “A one… two—a one-two-three-four.”

The music rang out, hard rock with a beat that you could dance to, and our camera persons, on loan from Good Knight Productions, recorded the action. Ginger entered the frame right on cue. Dressed in skimpy, green lace lingerie, her large and perfect tits jiggled and bounced with each step. The high cut of her “fuck me outfit” showed off her stunning legs and juicy ass. In her hands, she held a piece of poster board. She turned, facing the camera, smiling broadly while moaning in passion.

“Trad Wife, featuring Dream Cams’ Princess Conclave,” was artfully painted on the signage.

The band played, and Tee-O belted out the lines.

“Blond hair,
Sexy smile,
She’ll cook, clean,
And drive you wild,

Hot legs,
Baking buns,
Treat you like a king,
And set your heart on the run.”

“Ready the effects,” I said into the headset as I pulled it off. “The chorus is coming up.” The cameramen flipped some switches and nodded to me. I glanced down, smiling at the red-painted stomp-button. I set my headset down, debating the wisdom of remaining sober, and readied my foot. Just before the power chord that segued into the chorus rang out, I slammed my sole on the button.

Fiery sparks erupted all around the band. Billowing gray smoke exploded from behind the amplifiers, and flashes of fire, ending in sparkles, blinded the eyes. Kat’s idea, a touch of genius, immediately followed. The sign Allison was holding, broke out in spontaneous flames, beginning to burn in the center, the blackness quickly spreading out toward the corners.

The band hit the chorus.

“Everyone’s jealous of your life,
With a Trad Wife.
Everyone wants her in the night.
Sexy Trad Wife.
If they only knew,
Even half the truth,
They’d curl up and die.
Trad Wife.
Everyone wants to bed,
Your Trad Wife.”

Susan entered the scene from the right. Braless, she looked amazing in her fluorescent pink mesh top. She pulled Ginger over to her, and the two of them faced the front, turning their heads to kiss each other. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, fingers flying toward wet pussies.

On the left, Kat, in her Gypsy Witch outfit, led a leashed and collared Kia onto the scene. Kia immediately went for Mark’s crotch, pulling his cock out of his spandex tights, and began sucking him off. Kat humped her crystal ball, briefly, then moved toward Bobby, pulling up her skirt and offering her ass for his use.

Still, the band played, and the scene was dirty, kinky, perverted, and so fucking hot that my pussy caught fire. The song ran through the second verse, and it was my cue. Grabbing the tray of freshly baked cookies, I sashayed onto the set. As decided, I wiggled my ass, shook my hair from side to side, and bent deeply at the waist to set the tray down in front of the band. This exposed my nude ass to the world, and my stomach did somersaults.

As planned, I ended up front and center. Tee-O continued singing as he bent me over a monitor, pulled out his impressive cock, and lunged it deeply inside my cunt. I faced the camera, moaning in passion, and got savagely fucked through the guitar solo.

As the song ended, Ginger and Susan ran over. Allison shoved her twat into my face, making certain the camera got a good angle of me licking her clit, and Susan pulled Tee-O off of me, lunging her mouth over his cock as she fingered her dripping snatch.

“And…oooh…please fuck me harder…fucking fuck my slutty cunt… cut to black.”

“Do it, Tee-O,” Kia screamed. “Fuck her like the slut she is!”

The singer obeyed his girlfriend, pulling his cock out of my blond friend’s mouth and thrusting it back inside me. I screamed in agonized bliss, feeling the thick cock plunge deep inside me, stretching the walls of my needy pussy.

“Fuck your slut, you rock star stud. Blow your cum all over me. Fucking fuck me.”

I was going to reach down and play with my clit, but Ginger had crawled under my legs and began licking my clit, saturated cunt, and Tee’s hardness as he fucked me. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feelings. My moans and filthy exclamations echoed throughout the Satanic chamber.

When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by the band. My friends were sucking and stroking and fucking them while all of them leered at me getting pounded.

“I’m fucking cumming!”

“Me too.”

I felt hot blasts of cum land on my exposed flesh as my orgasm consumed me. I wailed, flailing about, knocking over a microphone stand, and screaming in bliss-filled joy as the pleasure exploded in my core.

“Cover me with your fucking cum, then eat my cookies. Fucking fuck your slut. Take me. Own me.”

Suddenly, I was obliterated by sexual euphoria. Countless hands, fingers, and tongues were suddenly everywhere on my body. While still being pummeled, gloriously, by the hefty cock thrusting inside my dripping hole, I was turned over and lowered onto the dirty floor of the altar. My friends’ tongues lashed at my now-exposed nipples; the hard cock drove itself into me harder and deeper, and I was ringed by three other men, jacking their cocks over me.

Sexual overload ran through my flesh. An orgasm ambushed me from out of nowhere, sending lightning bolts through every nerve in my skin.

“Fuck me. I’m cumming. Don’t stop.”

One by one, sometimes together, all my friends, the band, even some of the camera crew, and I were pleasured by each other. Over the next hour, I was bathed in cum, had it licked and spanked off of me, and gave pleasure as good as I got. Meanwhile, the cameramen recorded all of the action, some of it seemingly in first person point of view. Then, it was all over, and we congratulated one another on a successful, hot and horny, music video recording.

“Okay, guys,” I said to the crew as I pulled my street clothes back on. “Get a copy of that footage to the editing department as soon as possible, and we’ll edit the music video footage over dinner. Let me see…”

I counted heads once more.

“Seventeen of us. Good thing I have that big turkey thawed. We reconvene at my house at six o’clock sharp. Dress for dinner.”

I raced home; there was so much to prepare. I needed to mop, vacuum, and expand the dining room table to accommodate so many guests, and I looked like a trashy slut who’d just had her brains fucked out. Luckily, Allison showed up, potent edibles in hand, to help. Over the months, she’d become quite the housewife, herself.

“I’ll get the sides ready, and I promise I won’t set your kitchen on fire. Edibles?”

“Jonathon Rock called, wishing us well for the premiere.”

“So… are you?”

I was hoping to avoid the question. “No, Ginger, I’m staying here. This is the house that Mike and I made into a home. My heart is here. Besides, I need to be near you and the girls; I’m seeing this project through to the end.”

“Even if that means you can’t be with John? He’s rich, you know? That’s quite a catch.”

“I don’t need a man for his money…”

“Just his cock!” Allison interrupted. We both laughed.

Dinner was almost perfect. Allison’s glazed vegetables were too sweet, and the bread was slightly undercooked, as I was in a rush, but the rest was acceptable. A good hostess never has lumpy gravy. For a brief moment, I wondered how I, a simple, traditional housewife, ended up at that spot. I’d made my choices and had to live with them.

“So, does anybody have any more suggestions?” I asked.

Our fine meal was destroyed, and the table cleared; laptops, bongs, sex toys, and hastily scrawled notes now littered it.

“Just one thing,” Steve said. “I think the camera needs to be on me more!”

“Shut up, ya wanker,” Bobby teased in a horrible British accent.

“I’m no wanker, mate.”

“That’s right.” Susan’s smiling face popped up from under my table. “I’m sucking him off.”

“Equal screen time for everyone,” I reminded. “We’re all the stars, not just one of us.”

“I have a question,” Nick asked. Nick was assigned to Allison, her constant, video-taping shadow. “Does the footage after we shot the video go up to corporate?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “Our footage is like a clearance sale—everything must go.”

“Pass the cake and the bong, please.”

That night was a rare occasion for me. My army of guests left at a reasonable hour, which gave me time to properly clean. I even had time to decorate for Halloween. Each fake skull or witch hat brought back memories of my former life with Mike. I cried a little, wishing he could be here to share the moment with me, but I had no control over the cruelty of fate.

I chanced upon a costume dress I’d once worn to a costume party. It was a sexy maid. Mike, my fiancé at the time, had picked it out. The fact that Jonathon Rock and I were on our way to becoming a couple had no bearing on my feelings. To me, loving my late husband and Jonathon were not mutually exclusive. Johnny understood, or at least claimed to, and I refused to shut off my heart to appease one person.

Feeling reminiscent, I stripped off my dinner dress and matching bra and panties and squeezed into the slutty French Maid costume. The night I wore it, I had on purple and black striped panties, as the skirt was dangerously short. In the privacy of my own home, I went without. Spying a plastic, witch broom prop, I mentally shrugged and grabbed it.

I spread my legs, remembering how Mike was so turned on the night of the party that he pulled me upstairs, bent me over the coat-strewn bed, and took me from behind, my striped panties down around my knees. I fucked myself with the Halloween prop, fingering my clit and moaning as my reverie meandered through that evening.

That night, I’d danced a slow dance with a tall man, dressed as a superhero, after Mike came inside me. The man’s hands groped my ass while my betrothed watched. Mike had a huge smile on his face. As I relived those moments, I fucked myself hard, burying an impressive length of the broomstick in my cunt. I remembered that the guy thought I was aroused from dancing with him. The hilarious truth was that the caped crusader was running his fingers through my boyfriend’s cum that was seeping out of my pussy. I almost fainted from laughter when he brought his fingers up to his mask-clad face and licked it off, making “Mmm” sounds.

I had a soulful, intense orgasm to that memory. Then, I lay there, on the floor with the witch’s broom sticking out of my slit, wondering about the future.

“I’ll always love Mike, but I think I’m beginning to love you, too,” I texted Johnny. I immediately regretted doing that.

“I’d expect nothing less. I can wait forever for you if I need to. Good luck tomorrow.” His response was exactly what I felt I needed to hear, or read, in this case.

At a loss for words, I sent him a selfie of my freshly-fucked pussy, complete with the Halloween prop still inserted. Feeling nervous and anxious, I all but emptied the bag of edibles, downed some of Mike’s favorite whiskey, which I’d adopted as my drink of choice, and retired to the hot tub, planning out the logistics of tomorrow’s very meta simulcast.

We’d be on three different platforms, simultaneously, without any scripting, and with all the hardware needed to be on the cam site, the video site, and while being recorded for our reality show. Furthermore, I’d invested a hefty sum of my personal money into cross-marketing campaigns.

I’d struck a deal with Lancelot. By selling memberships to Good Knight’s streaming service through Dream Cams and RubHub, I was able to not only skim a few dollars per month off of each membership but also managed to sway several hundred of their members to purchase premium accounts on RubHub, Dream Cams, or both. However, my total autonomy agreement meant I had to front the dollars. That didn’t matter, because while the money was still in limbo, my initial investment was already met, with a nice little increase on top of that. Besides, passive, residual income is always better than just having it in the bank.

I went back to planning. Thankful that I brought the dildo-sized toy with me, I fucked my still-horny cunt, and the Jacuzzi jets did their magic on my clit as I readied myself for these new, bold steps.

To be continued…