Episode Six: Porn Producer Kimmy
DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fiction. It features a public person as a character, but strictly in a fictional setting that in no way implies the private interests or personal behavior of the public person in fact parallels the scenes depicted below. This article has not been approved by or presented to the public person for endorsement or comment. Any similarity between the actual acquaintances and actions of the public person portrayed here, and the content of this story, is strictly coincidental.
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ABOUT KIMMY:
Kimmy doesn't remember her dreams. Sometimes she wakes up in the night, skin damp and clammy, her body flushed, and for a moment there's a ghost of recall but it doesn't last as long as it takes to press long slender fingers to her groin. The moist memory of something is still fresh, there, although the sleep images which made her so are gone.
Despite great beauty, Kimmy rarely sleeps with anyone. Her usual bedtime companion is a tattered, battered teddy bear who attended her every girlhood every tea party. So her night visitations can't be clutched at when she wakes from a tossing rest, told to another before the ghost in her brain vanishes. To know what dances among the neurons when Kimmy sleeps, we must steal into her ear, make our way finally along the nerves and set exploring to find that region where her mind lives as her conscious body rests.
And yes, there is a party tonight in Kimmy's brain.
Perhaps we should dress for the occasion first, with a little more knowledge of the woman whose very secret self we will invade. Kimmy is young, just a little older than the law requires to serve her a drink she would only sip from politeness. She was raised well, uses good table manners and doesn't care to see feelings hurt, is kind to animals, watches her small budget and yearns to do something important in her life. Most families would be very proud indeed to welcome as a son's bride this petite, slender blonde with the swan's neck, defined jaw line and straight nose.
Perhaps. There's another side to Kimmy that proves the old adage, "You gotta watch the quiet ones."
She is a bisexual woman with an unquenchable sex drive. Her closet is filled with slutty clothes and rows of very high-heeled shoes. At the private strip club where she is the only dancer, she sometimes fucks the customers ... on stage, on a table, or in the parking lot - and sometimes in groups of 20 to 40 at a time. Often she goes to work dripping cum, stoppered in her ass with a butt plug, gathered in a noonday cruise for cock among the businessmen's bars in town. And when she's not working, Kimmy's at home with a huge assortment of toys she uses while chatting about sex on the Internet - or for fucking with one of her several bisexual girlfriends. Sometimes she has them tie her up and dominate the tiny girl with the very full, silicon-enhanced bosom.
Kimmy's appetites are not the norm, perhaps, but she shares a habit with many people. She sees someone attractive, perhaps someone interesting in personal manners or even spiritual ways more than physically, and develops a crush on that stranger. And she's shy about it, even as many of us are. But where the average young woman with a harmless crush on a handsome stranger might contrive ways to peek from the sides of her eyes at her new attraction, Kimmy wonders how she could ask him to fuck her senseless. Or how to get that foxy woman, rather than a hot guy, in bed. Kimmy is an equal opportunity lay.
Also, like many others, Kimmy is a bit star-struck. She has an open heart as well as open legs, so for her a crush on a famous actor, beautiful model, or popular singer is a brief imaginary love affair of great intensity. In fact, her response is a flood of fluids down her thighs. She often daydreams about being a star-fucker. She doesn't remember them, but her night dreams are often filled with celebrity sex. And we, the dream invaders, are going to join her.
When we are wandering around Kimmy's dreams, it might be best if we wear stainproof raincoats with hoods.
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Ordinarily Kimmy is a tidy young woman. She keeps up with simple messes all the time, puts her dirty clothing in the hamper, diligently uses part of every weekend for a more thorough housecleaning (she hates doing the bathroom so always gets it over with first). Tonight the remains of dinner congeal in a bowl on a tray beside her bed, clothes are obviously tossed carelessly about, and our beautiful dreamer sprawls naked atop her covers while the television presents a late night program of "snow."
Once again we are about to sneak into her dear brain to see what dreams she will create, stealing from her our own nightly fantasies. We can tell from the cassette case lying tentlike on the floor Kimmy has been indulging her delight in pornographic films. She probably fell asleep during this one, and that's why there is such a mess around. Maybe we are in for a serious treat tonight. Who from the world of porn would Kimmy decide to embrace in her star-fucking dreams?
Oh, how nice - she's well into this dream! We are in a very confusing place - look, walls but they are fakes, held up by braces in their rear, a beautiful bedroom within the walls' painted enclosure, but no ceiling - just lots of bars swaying above, hung with odd kinds of lamps. People swarm all over, most of them sort of hazy shapes, more quick cartoons of people than real ones.
Hey, there's Kimmy! She's dressed funny - wearing pants like riding breeches, the kind with balloon thighs but tight on the belly and lower leg, high black leather boots to just below her knees, a loose blouse, a scarf around her neck, and a beret. She has a riding-crop held between her arm and chest, and is shouting through a megaphone. Of course, here in Kimmy's dreams we never hear anything, but it's clear she is the boss-lady of what must be a movie set.
Kimmy is not just putting herself in a porn flick, she is producing and directing one. Making movies is not in her life's experience, so how does she know the details of a movie set? Well, no matter, it's her dream, we are watching and this is good. Kimmy waves forward a couple of hot-looking babes - one is wearing nothing but a thong bikini bottom, the other is in a robe but naked underneath - and they run over to a couple of very good-looking guys to kneel before them and start blow jobs. Those are called "fluff girls," generally wanna-be porn actresses whose job is to keep the actors ramrod-ready for action.
More movement distracts our attention. Kimmy's dream movie is pretty good quality, the crew is using film rather than video cameras. A cameraman rolls a dolly-mounted camera over by this very nice bed in the middle of the set, lining up for the next scene. Some other hazy figures are changing light angles and putting colored gels across their fronts to turn the mood into a soft scene. Oops - one of the fluff girls has done her job too well - the actor she's sucking is obviously going to come. She pinches his long prick with both hands while the poor guy's face turns red. Bet stopping that ejaculation made his balls swell up. But he's a professional, his wad is reserved for the film.
Now Kimmy seems to be consulting her script. A very cute girl, probably the continuity manager, is pointing to things and shaking her head. She's a brunette with stupendous tits, wearing very tall heels and a skirt that just wraps around a small but nice ass. Kimmy is staring at the girl's tits instead of listening. Oh, something has gotten through to our blonde dreamer, she raises her thin light brown eyebrows and nods and points to where the fluff girls are doing their job.
