Fake Casting Director

I'm a red-blooded American male... 26 years old... not great looking, but not too bad... six feet tall... college graduate with a steady, if somewhat dull job... lives in Los Angeles.

So why was I having such a hard time getting laid?

Oh, I have enough dates, but they haven't sparked enough interest in me to call them back after our first meeting. Let me explain: right now in my life I'm only interested in sex. I'm certainly not interested in marriage and I don't even want to invest time in "getting to know each other."

I admit it... I'm shallow. So if a girl isn't interested into hopping into bed right away, I lose interest. And that's been frustrating, especially in Los Angeles, where every other girl thinks she can become a famous star and is willing to do ANYTHING to reach that goal. And it was that fact that led me to my possible solution. That and the fact that I have watched a lot of porn.

While watching some "casting" porn, I had a brilliant thought. Why did I have to go after the girls? Why couldn't I become a "casting director" and let them come to me? And some guys on the shows I watched bragged about the fact that they weren't legitimate; that they were only PRETENDING to be casting directors. And here was the seemingly endless stream of girls, young, beautiful, naive, who couldn't wait to take their clothes off and have sex with the guy behind the cheap looking camera.

But was there a loophole, like could I be arrested? So I decided to investigate the situation. First, I checked the law and discovered you couldn't be arrested for impersonating a casting director. A police

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officer, yes. An assistant district attorney, probably. A casting director, no. Secondly, could I be sued? Not if I didn't promise anything specifically, like "suck my cock and I'll have a $5,000-a-day job for you by tomorrow." Third, would I be in danger of being severely beaten by a jealous boyfriend or father? Not too likely since most girls would never think of telling anyone they had tried out for a career as a porn actress... and failed.

And finally, did I need any actual license or permit to allow me to lure young women to me for carnal circumstances? When I contacted the city's licensing division (via a throwaway cell phone) and made discrete inquiries about this, a laughing clerk said if I wasn't actively soliciting women as a pimp, and the girls were of legal age (18), I was OK, and that even if it was borderline, it would be so far down on the priority list of the police, I would likely be collecting Social Security before they would get to me, if ever.

And so it came to pass that two weeks later, I was sitting in a small, inexpensive office with some minimal furniture (including a desk and... most of all... a couch. I also had three or four expensive looking but cheap, knockoff cameras. And, also important, I had a new cellphone and a phone number. A number that was at the bottom of a small ad I had placed in the entertainment trade publications reading "Open Audition. Girls 18 to 29 wanted for adult modeling. Experience welcomed but not necessary." Then I gave my first name—Todd (not my real name)-and phone number. I was in business, but I wasn't sure what would happen next.

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Then, before I expected it, the phone began ringing. And ringing. And ringing. As soon as I would hang up after talking to one girl, another girl would be on the line. I had decided I would only make two appointments a day. No sense putting stress on me. And just like that, my first week's calendar was filled.

The next, morning the first girl appeared. She was beautiful, about 5 feet, 7 inches tall, with red hair and blue eyes. She had on a VERY short skirt and a sleeveless top that emphasized her more than average breasts. She seemed less nervous than I was. Oh, I wasn't nervous about what I was going to do. I had the routine down pat: check her ID, ask about herself, first generally and then more sexual, toss out the potential $1,000 to $5,000-a-day "modeling" figures, then get her to take off her top and then her skirt and panties. And then move on to first oral and then genital sex.

But even before I got to the "did you bring your ID" line, she was already talking. "My name is Amber, I'm 19 and I really want this job," she said, even though I hadn't even mentioned any potential job. Then she went on "I'll do anything to get it, 'cause I really, really need cash right now."

With that, she started taking off her clothes. I watched as she stripped naked, then moved close to where I sat on the edge of the desk. "Feel," she said, pushing her beautiful, naked breasts toward me. "They are totally real." I didn't need any further instruction and began fondling her warm and soft tits. I could feel her nipples getting hard and erect under my manipulating hands.

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As I fondled her breasts, she said, "I can give you a blowjob now, or"- glancing down at the front of my slacks where it was apparent my penis already was totally hard- "we could skip that and just fuck." My answer was to guide her back to the couch, where I sat her down, spread her legs and began to eat her pussy. She was just as ready as I was, as her cunt was wet and warm when I thrust my tongue as deep as I could into her vagina. She immediately began moaning and panting, so I thought... "why wait, since this is what I hoped for?"

So I moved over her and centered my rock-hard penis at the entrance to her pussy. I knew she already was wet enough to take my prick, so I just slid inside her... deeper and deeper until my balls hit her ass. I stopped and just savored the feeling of her vaginal walls tight around my penis. But once again, she was ahead of me as she started the back and forth movements of intercourse. I joined in and for a few minutes we were both silent, but breathing hard. Then I felt a few shocks in my prick and I knew I was close to cumming. She must have felt it, too, for she picked up the pace and was really slamming up to meet my downward thrusts. I reached and grabbed both her breasts as my climax came and I shot four or five loads of sperm into her.

As we laid there, recuperating, she grabbed my head in both her hands and said, "Do I get the job?"

It took me a few seconds to recover from both her question and her aggressiveness, but then I carefully withdrew—reluctantly—from her vagina and finally began to act like a casting director and not just another horny guy. "Amber," I said, as I started putting my clothes

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back on, "it's not that simple. I have to shoot video of you—which I should have been doing all this time—and then forward it to various producers around L.A. who I think would be interested in you. Then they'll call me and I can recommend you, which I totally will do. But this could take some time. So let's do that now and then we can set everything in motion."

While Amber pouted over the fact that she wouldn't be starting a thousand-dollar-a-day movie immediately, I did manage to grab my forgotten cameras and shot both pictures and video of her doing various things to her body that started getting me hard again. Then I gently moved her out the door as I actually said "I'll call you" and didn't feel badly about it. For a few minutes I just sat there, thinking "can it really be this easy?" Then I realized that after lunch a second girl would be walking in and I would have to be ready to perform again. So I drank an energy drink and just relaxed.

I must have dozed off, for the next thing I knew was there was a knock on the door. It was time for Round Two.

I sat behind the desk, made sure my cameras were ready and the video camera was already recording, and then called "Come in."

The girl who entered could have been anywhere between 16 and 20 years old. It was hard to tell. But it was easy to see that she was very nervous. She was nice looking, but not beautiful. She was about 5 feet, 5 inches tall. Her hair was long and brown. Her eyes were the best feature of her face. They were green and deep. It was hard to tell what kind of body she had because she had on a long skirt and a sweatshirt with a USC logo on it.

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"Are you here for the modeling interview?" I asked. I could barely hear her reply, but I interpreted it as "Yes, I am." I grew more confident as I fell into my "script" as a casting director. "First," I said, "do you have your ID." She didn't answer, but instead opened her wallet and showed me her driver's license. I could see she was 19 years old. She sat back down.

I asked some routine questions about her name (Carol), where she went to school (not USC, but a local community college), if she had a boyfriend (no, not at this time), if she had done any modeling or acting before (she hadn't), and then I asked why she was interested in adult modeling. "I'm pretty shy," she said. "And I thought this might help me get over it."

For some reason I suddenly turned protective. "Carol, this is pretty tough business and people take advantage of you as often as they can. It's not a place where you go to gain confidence or 'find' yourself." When she started to protest, I cut her off. "Are you really looking forward to lying naked on some dirty sofa while a strange man fondles your breasts and a camera moves in for a close-up of your pussy? And then pictures of your naked body show up all over the internet?"

I was going to go on, but Carol started crying. Not just a few tears, but really sobbing. It shook me up, which surprised me, because I knew that if I pursued it, in just a few minutes a nude Carol would have my penis in her mouth and then in her pussy. Instead, I moved onto the couch next to her and put my arm around her.

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"Carol," I said, "this just isn't for you, and it's not what you want to look back on. And it CERTAINLY isn't something you want your future husband to learn about." Her crying slowly stopped and she looked at me and said "What a nice man you are."

And that made me feel crummy, even as we shook hands and I escorted her out, promising that I would call her if some modeling work turned up that I thought would fit her. But being the shallow person I am, I immediately turned my thoughts to the "casting" appointments I had the rest of the week.

Those appointments and the others for the rest of the month were really a blur of breasts, nipples, pussy lips and pussy hair and the warm feeling of a girl's mouth and her pussy. It was spectacular... so why wasn't I feeling on top of the world. It was because every time I came in a mouth or deep inside a young, vibrant young woman, my thoughts would be of Carol, the girl who cried and kept her clothes on.

And so, at the end of the month, I told my landlord I wasn't going to renew my lease and sent all the rented furniture and cameras back. When I left the office, the only thing I took with me was Carol's phone number. Maybe I'm not as shallow as I thought.

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