'Jenny, how many units of Cunt-Struck have we sold to date?' Alan asked. Jenny flipped open the file.
'Two thousand five hundred and sixty but I've just received an order for fifty more copies from a sex shop in Bolton and I've had further enquiries from three more outlets in the midlands.' Alan took a cigar from the humidor on his desk and smiled with satisfaction.
'It will be up there with Spunk Hungry soon,' he said, flicking open his Dupont cigar lighter. He had won last years Mr Porno award for Spunk at the Amsterdam Adult Festival and Tracey Honeypot had won best actress for her role as the bored nymphomaniac housewife. In the finale fifty two guys had lined up and wanked over her, covering her in cum, blowing their loads in her mouth, over her face, her tits and cunt as she spread her long legs wide and fingered herself to her own climax.
Alan looked down into the parking lot with further satisfaction as his eye roved over his gleaming silver Porsche Carrera. 'I need to find a new project and a new star Jenny,' he said. It had been three months since the completion of Cunt-Struck, a ninety minuter about a depraved English teacher fucking her way through her students, male and female, at an adult learning centre. He liked to give his movies something of a story line, rather than just film a room with a bed. Of course it eventually came down to the same thing, sex, an outlet for the lonely, wanking themselves off to the scenes of Tracey or any of the other girls taking it anally, orally or vaginally for which the obviously grateful punters paid for his lavish lifestyle. He had an eight bedroomed house in Essex with twelve acres of land, a vintage Bugatti and Jaguar XK 120, his beloved Porsche, and of course all the cunt he craved. If none of his starlets were available to drop their knickers or suck his dick there were always the best of the escorts in the book at his beck and call. He liked to watch two girls, one being fucked with a strap-on dildo while a third sucked or wanked him off as he sipped a very expensive champagne. He had bought the house on the proceeds of Do Me, Do Me Too, and Do Me Again.
An idea was beginning to ferment in his brain. Yesterday morning he had driven past the offices of Yellow Couriers and there was a girl sitting on the step smoking a cigarette. Whether she knew it or not, he could see right up her skirt. Her legs were splayed and she was wearing a pair of pale blue knickers. His cock twitched. He caught her eye, he smiled and she smiled back, the traffic moved and he caught her again, still looking, in his rear view mirror. There was definitely something about her; his cock was solid in his pants when he stepped into the lift.
'Jenn,' he said, emerging from his reverie, 'I think I've got it, the flick is to be called 'Knicker-Teen.'
Jenny smiled at him quizzically, 'You doing a health warning ad Al, the dangers of smoking?'
Alan laughed. 'No, although it is about smoking and sex, not nicotine but knickers and a teenager who likes to smoke while flashing 'em – knicker teen! I just love the play on words and whoever that sexy little minx is; I want her to play the role!'
He saw her the next day at the same time, sitting on the step of Yellow Couriers, she was smoking again but this time she was wearing jeans, nevertheless, his cock twitched again. He wanted to approach her then but decided against it, if she was there tomorrow then he would. Cunt-Struck was doing well, another hundred and fifty copies were shipped out and Jenny advised him that Do Me Too had sold forty two more copies in the past couple of days.
'Jenn, that chick is hot.' He said, lighting a Cohiba, 'I don't think she's English, got more of a continental look about her.' Jenny laughed.
'Alan, I think you are beginning to obsess. Why don't you just pick her up, take her to dinner and fuck her even if she doesn't want to be a porno star? The phone rang and she took the call, twenty more copies of Spunk Hungry.
That evening, feeling horny, Alan called Executive Escorts. He wanted Jane and Kim and the diminutive Polish girl, Agnes. 'Bring the toys,' he said. Jane sucked him hard and then he fucked Agnes from behind while the two other girls chopped and fed him cocaine, placing the mirror on Agnes's back at appropriate moments. He got close to climax, held off, and then had Kim wank him while he fingered Jane's clit. He blew his wad into Kim's knickers while watching the three of them doing each other with dildo's. The girls left with four hundred pounds each and a promise to see him soon. Alan wanked off again a little later thinking of the girl on the steps.
A day later and there she was! Short skirt, legs apart and white knickers. Instead of driving on he turned into the forecourt of Yellow Couriers and rolled down the window.
'Do you work here?' He asked.
'Yes, of course, and why you asking me?' She brought her knees together.
'I noticed you.' Alan smiled.
'Thank you.' She took a draw on her cigarette. 'You have nice car.'
'I have been noticing you for a few days.'
'I know, I thought about why does a man with rich car notice me?' She blew smoke. Alan's cock twitched. 'What do you do here?' He asked.
'I clean office and make tea; sometimes I take telephone and make bookings but they say I have to improve my English.'
'Where are you from?' He switched off the engine.
'I am from Czech.' She flicked the cigarette end away.
'Have you been here long?'
'In this country two month. It was hard, I couldn't find job at beginning but now it's ok. In a few days I have interview for bar job.' As she was talking Alan noticed her legs parting slightly as she relaxed. Sitting low in the car he had a perfect view of her cheap cotton knickers, they were quite tight and he detected a prominent bulge straining against the gusset.
A yellow van pulled up behind him and Alan was treated to a final and more rewarding knicker-flash as the girl stood.
'Will you be here tomorrow?' He asked, firing up the engine.
'Yes, I must go now – this is boss.'
'What is your name?'
'Anna, I have to go.'
Alan was greeted by a harried looking Jenny when he stepped into the office.
'Swift have a problem,' she said, 'the van's broken down and they don't have another until this afternoon and Love-Stop in Basildon has just put an order in for seventy five DVD's, they want them by lunch-time if possible.'
'Well, that's a stroke of luck!' Alan replied cheerily. 'Get the mailroom to put the titles together and I'll take them over personally to Yellow Couriers.'
Anna looked up from 'Misty Eyes', a cheap monthly magazine full of romance stories, some quite racy, that she read to improve her English. She was feeling rather horny as she reached the part where Annabelle's boyfriend Kurt, had his hand on Annabelle's knee and was slowly working his way up her skirt with each passionate kiss. In fact she had been offhand when the buzzer rang, wanting to get to the end of the story rather than deal with a boring customer. She had just taken a long draw of her cigarette and was blowing perfect smoke-rings as Alan entered Despatch.
'Oh, it is you!' Anna said, genuinely surprised. Alan placed the box on the counter. There was something so hot about her, she had the insolence of the perfect slut, and via his brain his cock reminded him how much the sight of her turned him on as he felt the blood rushing south.
'Yes, it is an urgent job; I need guaranteed delivery in Essex by this lunchtime.'
Efficiently Anna produced the carbon despatch notes.
'Where does it have to go?' She looked up and smiled.
'Love Stop, two one nine the high street Basildon.'
'What is Love Stop?' Anna asked stubbing out her cigarette.
'It's a sex shop, toys, underwear and naughty films.' Alan smiled at her.
'Nice, I like it.' Anna laughed as she began entering the details. 'What you send naughty panty or naughty toy?'
'Naughty films.'
'OK, sorry, not my business but you know I am interested to find out.'
The door from the outer office opened and Alan was confronted by a short middle aged man, overweight and showing at least 2 days of stubble on his fat jowls.
