Exrated

by Stevie J. Cole

Hudson Matthews, the godfather of porn, has his face eyelevel with my cock—so close I can feel his warm breath blowing across the tip of my dick. My pulse is banging in my ears. I’m sweating bullets. What the fuck am I doing here?

His gaze narrows as he nods his head. "Okay. Good size. Good girth. You got a good looking dick, man." "Uh..." What the fuck do I say to that? "Thanks…"

"You signed the waiver. My dick's not out. Not like I'm gonna rub one off. It's just part of it, and if you can't handle busting a nut in my office, well, then how the hell are you gonna bust one in front of an entire crew?" He shuffles the papers on his desk. "I mean, you're a good looking guy." His eyes drag over my body, and it makes my dick lose a good inch, "And a good looking guy with a cock like that—" He points at my crotch. "Well, they're hard to come by. You could be the next big thing, so just get on with it." He pushes the piece of paper toward me, and I stare at the figure he wrote down earlier. Shit, that's a lot of money to let someone tape you fucking other people. This is not amateur, middle of the road porn. This is the fucking holy grail of the porn world. This man is porn himself. Walking, loaded porn.

There’s a first time for everything in life, but never did I imagine Hudson Matthews would one day ask me to beat off in his office and then pull out a measuring tape to see what kind of distance my ejaculation has.

David sits up, grabs the monitor, and spins it around. I gasp. My eyes go wide, and a little piece of me dies. I’m staring at the screen, and there, on the fucking internet is a video of me shoving Stone Steele’s dick down my throat. “Oh, my fucking God!” I shoot out of the chair and grab the monitor with both hands, lowering my face down to it. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” “Jemma, why?” I’m so mortified right now; I can’t even answer him. I just stare at the computer, watching myself on screen as I look up at the camera and smile. “Man, you’re fucking good at that,” Stone says. And I giggle—I. Giggle. Like a dirty, dirty little slut.

I’m making money. I am—was actually a television actress. And ONE blow job to a rock star has ruined it all. I push up from the chair.

This has to be the strangest shit that has ever happened. I just got introduced to a random chick I’m about to bang in front of a camera. Dildos, butt plugs, condoms, lube. My heart pounds in my chest because, again, what the actual fuck am I doing here?

I swallow. I’m a fucking guy. This should not make me uncomfortable. I should be all for shoving some shit up a hot girl’s ass, right?

Minutes later, I’m naked in front of the cameras, slamming into this chick and doing math in my head to keep from getting off. I am pretty sure this is my dissension into the abyss of hell, but shit, money’s money. I’m single. I’m young. I dropped out of college, and I know damn well I will never get an offer like this again.

Tyler, I love you. I've loved you since we were six. I'll love you until I'm ninety-six. Jemma

"Son," Dad looks down at me. "You're seven." "But she's pretty..." I look back over at Jemma, and she has a small smile on her face. “One day, Jemma, I’m gonna kiss you.”

Honey-brown eyes. Distinct jawline covered in a slight five o’clock shadow. My gaze drops to those full, full lips. And I think for a second I may have a fucking heart attack. I have literally been dry humping my ex for the past five minutes. Like a fucking slut. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.” Tyler says, backing away from me.

Exhaling, I turn to face him, and well, I can’t form words. Now that we’re off the dancefloor and in the light of the bar, I can really see him, and he’s somehow even more fucking gorgeous than I remember. Half Lebanese and American—that mixture is nothing short of exotic. He was that guy in high school that all the girls fawned over, but I don’t even know that he noticed because he was always mine. Always. I swallow in an attempt to force my heart out of my throat. I don’t know what’s worse right now, the fact that I was slut dropping on him like that, or the fact that it felt so damn good.

“Yeah…” he laughs and fuck him for those dimples that just popped out and those eyelashes that are so thick they mimic eyeliner.

And here I stand, staring into the eyes of the boy who used to be my world. We grew up next door to each other. He was my first crush, my first kiss, and as cliché as it is, we lost our virginity to each other. And out of all the firsts I had with Tyler, the one that is the most salient in my mind is that he was my first broken heart. He crushed me. He had a full paid scholarship to NYU, so I can’t fault him for moving, but what we had wasn’t just some normal love—it was an epic love. And epic loves should stand the test of time, but ours didn’t. We didn’t fight for it, we just let it go because six months after he left we broke up and shortly after that he had a new girlfriend while I was still trying to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart. The hardest part of it all was that throughout my life, if nothing else, I had him, and then one day, I didn’t.

I roll my eyes. Hancock Park is expensive. His body is even nicer than it was, and now, he obviously has money. We ride for twenty minutes in silence. Heather and Tyler’s roommate, who I’ve now found out is named Jake, are lip-locked and every time she moves, her high heel digs into my leg.

I may be angry at him, but I am drunk, and he is fucking hot, and damn, was he good in bed. I follow them up the sidewalk, trying to pep-talk myself on the way to the front of the house. This is how bad things start: You go home with a guy, he says it’s just friendly, and the next thing you know you’re bowed over the bed fisting his sheets while staring at his damn cat. A few tequila shots are not an excuse to fuck your ex. My gaze lands on his ass. But really, it’s not like I would be adding any numbers to my list. It would be kind of like it never even happened. Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jemma. Control your fucking vagina.

When I left my apartment earlier this evening, I never thought I would be standing in the middle of that boy’s living room at the end of the night. It’s crazy that after so many years, that attraction hasn’t waned at all, if anything, it’s worse because instead of a boy, he’s a man. A very attractive, very muscular, evidently very successful man. Usually when you end up at some random person’s house after a night of drinks, you have no idea what to expect. It could be great, it could be shit and in that uncertainty lies a bit of hesitation. Sex with Tyler was never shit. Everything else about him has gotten better, more mature with age so I can only imagine what the sex is like now.

Twelve years of my life revolved around Tyler. I hate him because I felt abandoned, but more than anything I hate him because no matter what, deep down inside, I never was able to really stop loving him. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I call bullshit on that. His absence over the past four years has let me deny everything, it’s allowed me to forget the way his dimples pop out when he smiles, the sound of his voice, the way he makes me feel safe. I liked it when I’d forgotten those things because you don’t miss things you’ve forgotten you lost.

When I lost him I didn’t just lose a boyfriend, I lost my best friend. I lost my everything.

“Tyler—” I say because he’s so damn close, but before I can utter another word, his warm lips are over mine. Now I’m weak. So fucking weak. Taking me by the shoulders, he pins me against the window. I give in. I shouldn’t, but you tell me the guy who was your everything, that broke your heart—you tell me that he has you pinned against a wall years later and you would say no.

His tongue parts my lips, dipping into my mouth in that slow, seductive way I’ve yet to find since him and I moan. My hands slip over his biceps, over the bulges and defined ridges. His hands cup my face, tilting my head so he can tongue me deeper and harder. Fuck my life, this kiss is sex—this is what sex is supposed to be, and I still have all my clothes on. Every part of my body is heated, every last inch of me tingling. I’m wet and I hate him for it.

Within seconds, my shirt is over my head, my bra undone and he’s palming my breasts. My back hits another wall before a door swings open. His hands work my skirt over my hips then, I’m falling, and he’s coming with me. My shoulders hit the soft mattress. He’s over me, kissing me, his lips trailing down my neck, his hands on my breasts, sliding down my stomach. My fingers skim under his shirt and yank it over his head. He unzips his fly and I help him push his jeans and boxers over his ass.

“So fucking hot,” he breathes over my stomach as he works my thong down my thighs. I glance down to find him staring up at me, his light brown eyes shredding into parts of me I don’t let anyone else get to. “There’s something—” his lips press over my hipbone and my back involuntarily lifts. Tyler pulls my thong from my ankles and tosses them to the side. “Something…” “Don’t,” I say threading my fingers through his hair. “Just,” I swallow. “Just don't.”

He fucks people for a living, Jemma. He’s a pro.

And with that his warm mouth covers me, his tongue fucking me so deep, so soft, so—fucking God, I can’t find the word. All that feeling does is make me want to melt, fucking forget there is anything in this world aside from his mouth on me. My thighs fall apart, my hips thrust upwards and my fists ball in his soft sheets.

“Goddamn, you are so gorgeous,” he says in a groan, his fingers digging into my thighs. “God—” he licks over me— “fucking—” a hot breath blows across me—“damn.” I swear he’s abo...

One deep thrust of his tongue, one rake of his teeth over my clit, and my muscles are already tensing. He pushes my legs farther apart and slowly traces one hand between my thighs. His finger brushes over me. There’s a warm breath, and now his finger is sinking deep inside of me, curling and flexing in just the right spots as he continues to flick ...

He keeps at me, sucking, licking, nipping, and just when I am about to lose it, the second that heat begins to drown my entire body, Tyler hops up. I hear a drawer open then slam. Foil tears. A few moments later and he’s hovering over me. “You’re okay with this?” “Yes,” I say in one single breath as I pull his face back to mine. As soon as our lips meet, he slowly pushes into me. I shift, adjusting my hips to let him sink in deeper. This feels so familiar. So right yet so wrong. This is not where I belong and is all at the same time.

His arms brace beside me, and as soon as he’s all the way inside me, he stills, his chest resting against mine. I can feel his heart thumping. I hate this because this should be a one-night stand, but the thing I am realizing is no matter how many years later it is, when you love someone the way I loved Tyler, well, when you say you’re over it, you’re lying. Fucking someone your heart wants is not a one-night stand.

“Shit,” he says, a slight growl in his voice as he pushes himself so deep inside me it hurts. That pain that makes you want to say stop but go deeper—that is the threshold he’s at right now. My nails slice into his skin as they trail down his taught back to his ass. His hands reach under my ass, and he scoots to the edge of the bed, dragging me with him. Groaning, he lifts me from the mattress. I wrap my legs around his waist. He thrusts and I ride, and the next thing I know, I’m against the wall with my hands pinned above my head as he drives into me. A few minutes later, I’m straddling his hips, ridin...

It's taut, not taught.

“I can’t even tell you how good your pussy feels,” he manages to say through his clenched jaw. “Shit, Jemma.” He furiously circles my clit, thrusting so hard and deep that my head is nearly touching the floor. Everything in me tightens. My vision goes white, and all inhibitions flee. I moan. I cry. I swat at his sweat soaked skin as my entire body loses control under his touch. Seconds later, he goes rigid, his fingers digging into my hips when he collapses on top of me. His hard, heavy breaths blowing over my neck cause my body to tense because it can take no more stimulation. “Fuck…” he says with a post-sex blissful laugh. And all I can ...

The sun pours in from the half opened blinds, and I shift in the bed. When I pull in a breath, all I smell is Dolce and Gabbana, which reminds me that I’m not in my apartment. My eyes fly open, and I sit up so fast my head spins. Tyler’s sprawled out on the bed, one arm over his head, the other resting on his defined stomach. The sheets lay right below the deep guidelines cut into his hips. The way the sun glistens off his tanned skin is all but sickening.

“So,” he laughs, “what does she think about you being a porn star?” I groan. “I didn’t tell her.” “Dude, you fucked her and didn’t tell her you’re a porn star?” “Man, not like she could say anything.” “You do porn…she made a video with a famous guy that got hacked. There’s a difference.” I glare at him.

And now I feel like an asshole. I tried to tell her, even though I didn’t want to, but she kept telling me to shut up. As fucking amazing as it sounds when you tell random strangers you’re a porn star, it doesn’t sound so great when you’re telling it to a girl you thought you were going to marry.

“Seriously, Jenna Jameson, she ended up in movies.” “What movies?” “There was that Zombie Strippers or something like that. I mean, it may have tanked, but still, she was in a movie. You were destined to suck his cock. Sucking that cock will lead you to fame. If you suck it, they will come.” She giggles. “Oh, shit, I didn’t mean like come as in jizz…” she laughs so hard she snorts. “I think I have a hidden talent with sexual innuendos.”

“Porn stars, huh? I mean, you gotta have some level of respect for them. The level of self-confidence one must have to show their asshole to the world…”

Everyone has sex—except for monks and nuns.

Nope. Not everyone.

My eyes land on the man’s broad back. He’s holding onto the girl’s ankles, pounding into her. With each thrust the muscles in his ass flex and bunch. She lets out a hard moan, one that doesn’t sound fake at all. To be honest, if a guy was going at me like that, I don’t think there’d be much to fake.

And I’m turned on by it because even though all I can see is this guy’s back—his body is sexy and he has some obvious skill.

“Uh, yeah. I just got a subscription for PornHub—” “A subscription? Heather, isn’t that shit free?” “I mean if you want commercials and shit. I don’t have time for commercials when I’m trying to flick my bean, Jemma. Ten bucks a month. All the porn I can watch.”

“Yeah, that has to take some serious confidence to let people all up in your snatch like that.” She pauses. “Oh, think of how much confidence it takes to go doggie style and show the world your chocolate starfish.” “You have such a way with words, Heather, you really do.”

My mind flips back to that guy, his ass flexing with each hard thrust, and, well, fuck it. I scoot down, place my foot on the wall next to the faucet and hang my right leg over the edge of the tub. I let the hot water pound down over me until my eyes roll back in my head. Tainted. So fucking tainted.

An hour later. I get a text from Tyler asking me if I want to go grab some food tomorrow night—just friends he said. So tomorrow I have porn, then dinner with my ex. Sounds like a grand time if you ask me.

Day two at the job. I’ve already watched two shoots. Wiped off three dildos and a set of anal beads—while wearing gloves and gagging. I don’t care how many enemas they use before that crap, an asshole is an asshole. Shit or no shit.

Amen.

I nod and open my mouth to speak to her, but a guy—a really familiar looking guy just walked in the door, and I’ve lost the ability to form words. He’s talking to Hud, and, I mean, he’s so far away, anyone could look like Tyler from here, right? Because Tyler would not be here. I mean, he said he did services for a…I swallow…a multi-million-dollar company. My heart suddenly takes off in a sprint. This cannot be happening. No. There is no way in hell. I narrow my gaze and my heart pounds harder. He just looks like Tyler. Dark hair, honey colored eyes. Strong jaw and profile. Not him. So not him because that boy that I used to be in love with would never do something like this. He has depth, he has morals, he loved me…I just fucked him…He wants to take me to dinner tonight…

Brandi looks over my shoulder and smiles. “He’s really hung. Wait until you see his cock.” “Oh, yeah…” I swallow. “Pretty sure a guy that looks like that is hung, and most likely an asshole.” “Huh.” She laughs. “Probably.”

I shoot a nervous, stop-looking-at-me-like-that smile at Tyler and then pull the reflector up, blocking my face. Brandi walks over. I hear her make small talk with him. I’m in a fog. Did this really just happen? A week ago I ran into him at a bar and fucked him, freaked out and bailed, and now—now I am standing in a room, holding a reflector when he’s about to strip butt-ass naked and pound into this girl in front of me? When I read his email last night, I did question if running into him like that may have been fate, well fate just said fuck you.

I’m watching the guy I lost my virginity too bang another—wait, there comes Vee and now she’s stripping—bang two girls. Two fake tittied, super tan, over made girls. And he always hated makeup.

And now that I’ve come down from the abrupt shock of this all, I have a moment of real fear. I fucked a porn star. I slept with a porn star. Holy shit! I fucked. A. Porn. Star. My stomach twists and turns. I flip through that night’s events completely in panic mode. I didn’t suck him off. He wore a condom.

“You know the other night, how I kept saying there was something I needed to tell you, well, this was what I was trying to tell you. I didn’t exactly plan on fucking you, and I’m sure you can understand my hesitation in telling you I do porn when I haven’t seen or talked to you in four years.”