The Real Money Shot

Lewis Lamb's throat felt dry.

He checked the number on the door, then the address on his phone. It wasn't what he was expecting. Greyfriars was a crumbling residential block of flats. He was up on the fifth floor balcony. Behind him was a view of the river and a scruffy scrapyard. The teens he'd passed downstairs looked like they'd shiv him in the kidneys if they thought he had anything worth nicking. It wasn't the most glamourous of locations.

There again, this wasn't exactly the most glamorous of work.

His heart thudded nervously in his chest.

He could always just fuck off and leave. Say the bus had broken down, he'd come down with Covid, anything.

No. Rent was due next Friday. He needed a boost.

He forced his hand up and pressed the bell.

Please don't be a prank. Please don't be a prank

, ran through his head.

The door was answered by a pretty young Asian woman. She was short—about 5' 2'' in height. Her age was indeterminate, but she had a very attractive face framed with dark silky hair cut in a medium-length bob. Her most eye-catching feature was her bust. There was a lot of it and she was dressed in a low-cut stretchy yellow top that showed it off to devastating effect. Lewis noticed his gaze was being sucked into the lush canyon of her cleavage and hurriedly flicked it back up to her smiling face.

"Um. I'm here about the advert," Lewis said.

He hoped that meant something to her. That he hadn't just knocked on the door of some random stranger's house.

The girl turned and said something in a foreign language. Japanese?

She gave Lewis a shy smile and retreated back into the flat, slipping away into a room on the right.

Don't be a prank. Don't be a prank

, ran over and over through Lewis's head.

Part of him was hoping it was, if only to bring everything to a mercifully swift end.

A man appeared in the short hallway. He was not Japanese. Or even Asian. He was very short, hairy and ginger. He was balding. His remaining hair was a mass of cherubic curls that might have looked charming on a boy or younger man. Instead they looked campy and pervy—the hair of a child molester. The man wore a pair of thick bottle-bottom glasses that magnified his watery blue eyes up like ping pong balls. The spectacles rested on a flattened nose. Unsightly bristles of ginger hair protruded from too-wide nostrils.

The man was a strange combination of short and gangly, as if he was a failed experiment to mix human and simian DNA. His limbs also had a strange ungainly quality to them, as if they hadn't been attached correctly. He wore a pair of cargo shorts that failed to hide a knobbly pair of knees. He wore a grubby red-and-white striped T-shirt. A camera hung down from a strap around his neck.

"Hi, Lewis isn't it?" the short photographer said. "I got your email."

Lewis nodded.

So, at least this was the right place. That was partly a relief, but it also opened the door to a whole host of other trepidations.

"Well, dunna hang around outside in the cold. Come in, laddie. Come in."

Lewis followed him into the short corridor. He passed a doorway on the right and glanced inside to see the girl who answered the door, as well as four other Asian women sitting casually on chairs. One glanced at him and smiled as he went by. The ginger photographer took him into a side kitchen.

"You're right on time," the man said. "That's a good quality to have in this industry. Punctuality. You'd be surprised how many lack it."

The man switched on a kettle and went into the cupboards.

"Thirsty?" he asked. "You want a drink? A cuppa, a can of coke, a wee dram to settle the nerves?"

Lewis mumbled he'd like a coke. He needed something. His mouth had completely dried up.

The ginger man went into the fridge and passed him a can of coke.

"A good choice. The problem wit' a bit of Dutch Courage is it sometimes settles parts of the body we'd rather not settle."

He mimed a droop with his finger and laughed dirtily. He poured some milk in a mug and dropped in a teabag while he waited for the kettle to boil.

Lewis popped the tab on the can and took a swig. It tasted too sweet on his tongue. It was liquid, though, and Lewis needed that right now. His throat and the back of his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara. His tongue felt swollen and difficult to talk with.

"Ah, where are my manners," the ginger man said. "I'm Giovanni, Giovanni McTavish."

Lewis remembered that from the email.

McTavish proffered a hand for Lewis to take. It felt surprisingly normal. Lewis was expecting it to be more... greasy.

Or maybe that was a reflection on how Lewis felt inside.

"So, have you done this before?" McTavish asked.

Lewis briefly thought about lying. He was still afraid he'd be sent back out the front door. He needed this money.

He thought better of it. The ginger man looked like he was experienced at this type of thing. He'd probably be able to tell if Lewis was lying.

Lewis shook his head. "No," he said. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," McTavish said. "I deal with newcomers a lot. I prefer it to be honest wit' you."

The kettle boiled and he made his cup of tea.

"Some men get a couple of gigs under their belt and it goes right to their heads. Become right nightmares to deal wit'. Prima donnas. I think it's the knowledge men aren't worth shit in this industry that gets to them... gets right under their skin. So they feel like they have to act up and be awkward. Nightmares to deal wit'. Worse than some of the gals."

The ginger man supped his cup of tea.

"The other thing wit' newcomers, they got the right look."

McTavish made a frame with his hands and squinted through it at Lewis's face.

"You got it. A wee bit of innocence. Perfect for this." He gave Lewis a filthy wink.

Was it that obvious? Lewis supposed it was. The butterflies fluttering in his stomach weren't going away. He could only take small sips from his can. Any more and it would come right back up.

"Ah, but I s'pose I should really get the ethical stuff out t'way. You sure you're okay wit' this?"

Lewis nodded, albeit not too convincingly.

"Your face ain't gonna be plastered all over t'internet, but it'll out. You never know who might stumble across it. Might be lads at work. Might even be family. You gotta be prepared for that."

Lewis was okay with it. He didn't have any family. Not much in the way of friends either, at least offline. He had some online friends from the videogames he played. None of them knew what he looked like.

He told McTavish that in a series of awkward mumbles.

"So you didna tell anyone you were coming here to do this?" McTavish asked.

Lewis nodded his head.

"Good good," McTavish said. "That's the best way to do it. Total anonymity. Turn up, do the job, collect the cheque, then fuck off afterwards. And then, if anyone recognises you, play innocent and remark how similar they look to you on screen. Easy when you ain't got a distinctive ugly mug like mine."

The ginger man let out an earthy chuckle.

"Right."

He slammed his mug down on the counter.

"Drop 'em."

Lewis looked from side to side in confusion.

The ginger man gestured to Lewis's crotch.

"Your pants. Let's take a look."

Understanding, Lewis shyly pulled down his tracksuit bottoms and underpants.

There was a sharp intake of breath from McTavish, followed by a whistle. "Damn, laddie. The gods were generous to you. That's perfect."

Lewis's face reddened. He felt a little flash of pride. He wished the gods had been a little kinder to him in other regards, but had to concede he'd done pretty well in the trouser department.

The ginger man leered.

"That's the look. Perfect," he said. "You've got nothing to worry about. You mighta heard people say it's harder than it sounds, but it really ain't. And these gals are great. Really experienced. Let 'em take the lead and you'll have no problems at all. Come, I'll introduce you."

Lewis went to follow McTavish out of the kitchen. The ginger man stopped him with a hand and glanced down at his crotch.

Understanding, Lewis pulled his pants back up.

"Keep it for later," McTavish said. "Looks better on the camera when the surprise is genuine."

He gave Lewis a filthy wink and led him through into the living room. All the furniture had been cleared to the side of the room. The floor was covered in a clear plastic sheet. On top of that, and taking up most of the floorspace, was a massive inflatable mattress, silver-grey in colour. Studio lights were set up in each of the four corners and directed at the big grey airbed in the centre of the room. There was a video camera on a tripod on either side of the airbed. It looked surprisingly professional, given the ginger man's scruffy appearance.

"Who lives here?" Lewis asked.

"Between tenants," McTavish replied. "I've got a friend in the letting agency who lets me know when gaps open up. Couple of weeks here. Couple of weeks there. Keeps the overheads low and the profit margins high."

He gave Lewis a good leer.

"Watcha think?" The ginger man nudged the big airbed with his toe.

"It's big," Lewis commented.

"Needs to be. There's gonna be six o' you on it."

Lewis felt the first pleasant throb in his loins.

Six

.

McTavish grinned wide enough to reveal a mouth full of rotting and misaligned teeth.

"Girls, are you ready? Come and introduce yourselves."

Lewis's heart bobbed up and down in his throat as he heard movement in the neighbouring room. Chairs shifted, People stood up. Then five women filed into the living room and introduced themselves to Lewis.

All five women were Asian. Japanese? They were relatively short—the shortest being just over five foot, the tallest maybe 5' 6''. Their skin was pale and their faces exotically beautiful. In fact, all five were total babes, even more than Lewis could have wished for. They were also as gifted in the chest department as Lewis was in the trouser department. All five, without exception, had massive tits. They wore stretchy tops with low necklines to emphasise their cleavages, and Lewis couldn't help but goggle. It was easy to see why they were in this line of work.

"This is Himari."

The first, Himari, was the one who'd answered the door. She had a pleasant smile, but also a dirty glint in her dark eyes.

The second, Nao, was the tallest. Her hair was long and straight. She wore a dark red top. While McTavish introduced her she bounced her big boobs in a provocative manner. Lewis's gaze bounced with them.

The third, Aimi, was the smallest. She also seemed to be the sluttiest. She sucked erotically on her finger and stared right at Lewis while McTavish introduced her. She wore a pink top that also fully showed off the lovely curvaceous shelf of her bust.

The fourth was Jun. She played it a little coy, just giving her substantial boob a little poke with her finger to show off how soft it was. She wore a light blue top and her black hair was long and wavy.

The fifth, Mei, had orange highlights in her hair to go with her orange top. She giggled and jiggled as McTavish introduced her, then blew Lewis a kiss. He couldn't help but smile back. Her energy was infectious.

After the introductions McTavish turned to Lewis.

"Right, laddie. I need to shoot some promo film for the beginning. Just wait over there for now."

Lewis stood over to the side and sipped his drink while he watched the ginger man film the girls. He arranged them in a line and had them thrust out their ample breasts and give them a good jiggle while he capered up and down the line like an over-caffeinated monkey. Lewis couldn't help but marvel at their tits. All five had been extremely well-gifted in that regard. They plumped them together for McTavish's camera and pushed fingers into them to demonstrate their softness. They pulled suggestive faces for the camera.

And for Lewis as well. While the camera wasn't on her, Nao on the end, the tallest one in the dark-red sweater turned and pouted suggestively to Lewis. She sucked on a finger and then pressed both index fingers into the flesh of her boobs. They looked pleasantly soft. It was only a brief tease. McTavish was already moving down the line to her.

Lewis's Adam's apple bobbed up and down nervously. His throat felt dry again. He took another sip of coke to try and alleviate it, but the liquid tasted warm and unpleasantly metallic.

He glanced down at the large silver-grey air mattress. That was for him and all five—

five!

—of them. He felt a strange mix of giddy excitement and nervous trepidation.

Five—

five!

—of them. And all with huge, soft tits.

It was strange. A sexy frolic with five gorgeous, busty Asian girls was peak fantasy. It was something he'd joke about paying a lot of money to do. And yet, he was going to be the one receiving payment here. It changed things. Added a weight of expectation that wasn't there before. He supposed that was the same for everything once it was turned into a job.

Lewis's nostrils wrinkled. He'd caught a whiff of something bad, like rotten eggs. Just a faint trace, like hints of an anti-perfume in the air.

He turned his head back. McTavish had finished the preliminary photo shoot. The girls were filing out. McTavish helped them on the way with a bawdy slap of an ass. Beneath their brightly coloured jumpers all they had on were skimpy panties.

Lewis's brow wrinkled. For a moment he thought he'd glimpsed a tail—long and thin and red, and with an arrowhead tip at the end, like the tail of a devil—swishing from side to side beneath the lovely rump of the last girl.

Lewis blinked. The door was already closing behind the girls. He couldn't see.

His eyes were playing tricks on him.

Nerves. Or excitement.

The room felt a little too warm. Nervously, Lewis fiddled with his collar.

"Right, laddie." McTavish was beaming when he turned his attentions back to Lewis. He paused when he saw the expression on Lewis's face. "What is it?"

Lewis turned his head from side to side and sniffed. "Do you smell that?"

There were faint traces of something noisome in the air. A whiff of rotten eggs.

"Just a dead rat in the walls," McTavish said dismissively. "This place is a shithole. Shoulda been condemned and knocked down years ago. I wouldna worry about it. Your snout's going to be rooting down in cleavage in a mo anyway."

He let out a grubby laugh.

"Right, I'll bring the girls back in a mo. Before then, we'll just go over a few things. The working title for this is 'Marshmallow Heaven Harem'. For obvious reasons."

McTavish gave Lewis a disgusting leer that showed off his snaggled and discoloured teeth.

"Is there a script?"

"A script? That's a good one, laddie." The ginger man nearly doubled over with laughter.

"Um, what should I do?" Lewis had been expecting a little more... direction.

"You won't need to worry about that. The girls will take the lead. They'll do it all. They're total maneaters, to be honest. Complete nymphos. They'll be setting the pace, you dunna need to worry none about that."

Lewis's Adam apple bobbed furiously.

"And dunna try to act or anything like that. It always looks shite. Just act natural, like you got really really lucky on the pull."

Lewis nodded.

"Here's a wee hint on how it will go. You may have noticed they're all generously gifted in the tits department."

McTavish mimed clasping two enormous melons to his chest.

"They'll be using them big melons a lot. Rubbing them against you. Pressing your face into them. Squeezing your cock between them. It's why I'm calling this 'Marshmallow Heaven Harem'."

McTavish leered grubbily.

"It's gonna have a heavy paizuri focus. That's Japanese for 'titwank', by the way. The girls will still hop on for a regular fucking at some point. They're total nymphos, I couldn't stop them if I tried."

"Should I put on a condom for that?" Lewis asked.

McTavish pulled a face.

"Nah, the punters hate seeing 'em. We ain't the yanks, so we dunna have to. And you needna worry about STDs or anything like that. The girls are checked regularly. I've got their certificates in the kitchen if you want to check."

Lewis shook his head.

"Right, back to it. Because this is tit-focused, the money shot needs to be between their tits. So try to hold it in until then."

Lewis nodded while also wondering how long he'd be expected to do that, and whether he could.

"Now I bet you're wondering 'What happens if I don't? What happens if I have a little accident in one of their tight wet pussies?'"

McTavish gave Lewis a grubby wink.

"They all worry about that, even the prima donnas. They've all had little accidents as well. It happens. And if it happens here, dunna worry about it. We've got all afternoon. If you get a little too overexcited and premature, we'll pause things, give you a chance to recover before getting right back to it. It all gets chopped up in the edit anyway."

McTavish held up his camera and tapped the side.

"One of my best money shots wasn't even at the end. One wee laddie got so excited he spunked all over a girl's tits about a minute after dropping his kecks. Absolute monster splooge it was as well. Completely drenched her titties.

"Well, I wasn't going to let that go to waste, so I spliced it in at the end. Magic of editing."

McTavish laughed.

"However, it's better if you try to hold it in. Means more time for shooting smut rather than everyone sitting around with a cuppa while they wait for your wee man to get hard again. For that reason I'll pay you a wee bit extra if you can hold it in until the right time."

McTavish pinched and rubbed his fingers together.

"A wee little financial incentive helps keep the mind focused and not get distracted by natural instincts."

McTavish gave Lewis another filthy leer.

"And if you can hit that..."

The ginger man pointed up at the ceiling.

"...I'll give you an even bigger bonus, although that's more of a personal challenge."

Lewis's brow wrinkled as he looked up. What? Hit the ceiling? With his cum? Was that even possible?

"One laddie got within a coupla inches," McTavish said. "It's a tough one, for sure, but I always like to give them a chance. You're young and the girls have mad skills you wouldna believe. You might surprise yourself."

Lewis looked doubtfully up at the ceiling. Rockets, not mad skills, would be needed to get it up that high.

The ginger man gave Lewis a filthy wink.

"Right then, laddie. You ready?"

Lewis nodded. He put the unfinished can of coke on the nearby window ledge.

"Okay. Take your shoes and socks off. Nothing else. The girls will do that."

Lewis did as McTavish asked. He fancied he could feel his heart pounding against his eardrums as he bent down to take off his shoes and socks. He rolled up his socks and left them in his shoes.

"Kneel on the mattress there," McTavish directed. "Don't worry. It's sturdier than it looks. It won't pop."

Lewis got on the mattress and went down on his knees. He watched as McTavish flitted around him. He had a camera in front of his face and looked like a ginger monkey training to be a paparazzi.

"Dunna look at the camera," McTavish said.

Lewis snapped his gaze straight ahead.

"Good. I'll be out of your eyeline, so you'll forget I'm even here in a few moments. Ready?"

Lewis nodded.

"Girls!" McTavish called out.

The door opened and the girls entered in single file.

They were chattering excitedly among themselves. On seeing Lewis kneeling on the mattress their excitement ratcheted up another notch. They quickly surrounded him.