In The City City Of Cumpton Ch 01

In The City, City Of Cumpton- Compton Cheerleader Cum Catchers

Shonda looked straight into the lens and stuck out her tongue. She was in a sitting dog position at the lip of the bed and her arms were quivering something awful. She was supposed to look ferocious for this shot but it was clear she was going to collapse. She fought gravity and exhaustion by repeating her mantra. Nothing succeeds like success. Nothing succeeds like success. Nothing succeeds like success.

Joe and Will, the marquee names on this tape, had pulled back on the director's command, still in character. They high-fived each other just like in every other tape they had done, sleepy arrogant smirks on their faces, conquest nods in their necks. When it was clear that they had gotten out of the shot, they began staggering.

It was if their skeletons had converted to semen, been shot into Shonda and their bodies were just now realizing it. Joe fell to one knee, three feet from the bed and then collapsed into a pile. Will managed to get to the far wall before his legs gave way. He slid down the wallpaper into the carpeting next to the other fools.

If anyone could have walked away it would have been those two. They were horse hung, gangbang legends, marathon men each. But just like the 25 before them, these industry legend studs had become mute epileptic vegetables in the seconds after ejaculation. A swift kick in a tender spot couldn't even rouse them.

Benny, the boom mike operator, was exasperated. He was as astounded by Shonda's performance as Joe and Will but wasn't getting paid to faint. He had to admit, the pop shot that Joe had was impressive, at least a ¼ of a cup if all his years in the kitchen taught him anything, but that amount had to be natural to a fellow with a twig and berries that size. The other fellows had released big time too but at least they had the good sense to turn to mush out of his way.

He had stumbled over Joe, his foot catching the poor bastard in the stomach quite forcefully. Benny had bit his lip but there was no exclamation from Joe. Damn, now he had a fucker in addition to an asshole to contend with. He shook his head to himself.

Benny had been on the tips of his toes all day, trying to get an appropriate sound level without getting bowled over. He was shadowing the director, as commanded, but found it hard to capture Shonda's shiver inducing slurps, burps and congested mouth breathing with hyper ass, Napoleon complex Grady wind-sprinting back and forth around the bed with the camcorder. All the sounds of stocking feet running about were going to be a bitch to filter out, even if the carpet was nearly shag. Benny caught himself getting angry and made it a point of counting to ten backwards and breathing out his negative energy.

The director, Grady, a manic bulldog of a man, heard Benny's release of negative energy breath and smiled to himself. The success/relaxation tapes he had bought for the office were evidently worth the investment. Grady knew he was moving around too much and would be considered a major league asshole by all the other soundmen in Los Angeles but if that was the price he had to pay for being a genius, so be it.

This climax was going to be enormous and he needed Benny, a veritable Marine of soundmen, to put up with his zipping back and forth. There was a definite method to his madness. The audio was going to be more vital than the visual in the end.

Grady had stopped dead in front of Shonda now, craning his head and camcorder forward while beckoning to her with his other hand. She was rocking back on her pelvis, her mouth still open, breathing a mantra. She was zoning out. Grady raised his beckoning hand to her eye level and kept at it. He was praying all the while that she would come to.

It took a couple seconds to break through her post coital daze but he did it. Shonda fixed on the steady rhythm of his fingers, making it fit the pace of her mantra. Benny pulled back the microphone back somewhat, not wanting pick up her chant, one less thing to deal with when he got out to the editing facility tomorrow. Grady thanked various Gods silently for her return and then began pleading the same deities for timing.

It would have to be just right. Shonda had a couple of minutes left upright by the look of things. As strong a front as she was putting up, the double team that she had just gotten from Joe and Will had done a number on her.

The old Chinese handcuffs routine, Joe deep in her throat, Will lodged in her anus, both going for broke. The fellows at the main office had shaken their heads when Grady brought it up. Did they hear him correctly? The handcuffs number was to be followed by the chug-a-lug segment? It was madness. It would have left everyone of the veteran actresses in the Cock A Diddle Video stable unconscious. And those ladies had been through it all

The president and gathered silent partners hadn't laughed him off since he was a money maker for them, just the idea. If he could pull it off, it would be the hottest tape of 2003 and he could write his own checks from then on, but there was no way in hell it was possible. Where did he intend to find a woman, and an amateur at that, able to withstand what he was proposing outside of a Tijuana pony fucking revue?

Grady had smiled then and was smiling now. He had found the answer to his prayers on Los Angeles public transportation. The bus line had to be good for something

It had worked like that for the past 7 years. He drove around to bus stops in the middle of the day in his gleaming late model Benz, top down, dressed to the nines. It was his surefire way of finding fresh faces.

His formula was to find an attractive girl on the bus bench and offer her a ride.

Ask her if she wanted to make some money when she got in. Most everyone who rode the bus did. Tell her what she would be making. Watch her juggle the figure in her head, see how she figures all her debts could be paid off, her rent paid in advance for several months, the down payment on that cute get around car made, etc.

Drop her off where she requested before she could ask too many questions. Pick her up the next day at the same spot. The overnight incubation of the idea made it a lock. These women would do anything for the money now, having dreamed about it. All that was left was the contract process. He would drive to the office and hand her over to legal.

It usually took a half hour but soon the lady was walking out with advance money in hand and a full calendar. Grady would be smiling almost larger than the lady. None of them read the fine print. They just wanted the money for some baubles. Cock a Diddle Videos now owned them until they earned their already blown advance money back, just like a rap artist's contract.

These naïve ex-waitresses and receptionists would be paying for their shiny new cars, shoes, jewelry and designer clothes with their pussies, assholes and mouths for a hellishly long time, 200 videos by Grady's count. Most girls are worn out mentally by the 40th tape but few could afford a lawsuit from Cock a Diddle Videos for breach of contract. So they kept on trucking and fucking.

These hoodwinked women soon realized that the only way to pay off Cock a Diddle was to volunteer for gonzo shoots. These involved much more than the girl-girl and one on one action they had signed up for but the prospect of being free and clear of debt was enough to make them swallow their reservations and take whatever was thrown at them. Cock a Diddle predictably became the number one gonzo producer in the United States

It was through this flood of applicants to gonzo projects and some excellent recreational drugs that Grady made his bones. He was given a thumbs up by his dealer, carte blanche by legal, every orifice by the ladies and extreme approval from the chicken chokers of America. He had whipped out more oddball films of better quality than every other filmmaker in the continental USA for 3 years running. The sales receipts showed it.

Grady had started with girls from coastal and desert communities first and moved steadily inland. The films got progressively kinkier with the push downtown, the logic being the beach bunnies and high desert hotties had access to better lawyers than those in the urban core. Higher class attorneys might get breach of contract suits thrown out of court and set a precedent, throwing the future of Cock a Diddle into jeopardy.

So the cycle went: Malibu Majorette Muff Divers, Venice Vaginal Canals, Brentwood Butt Bitches, Bel Air Booty Hole, Pasadena Pussy Pounding, Azusa Analingus, Melrose Mamas, Laid up in Leimert, Baldwin Hills Banging, Putas on Pico, Eses, Hinas and Low Riders, Crips Cock and Load, Bloods Drive By Bukkake and finally Compton Cheerleader Cum Catchers. This is where Shonda came in.