"Are you my horny little nympho slut?"
The smoking-hot blonde licked her full, pink lips. Her blue eyes were wide open and filled with wicked delight. "Yes, sir," she purred as she wrapped her fantastic tits around the rock hard cock that had just been slapped down between them. "I'm whatever you want me to be." Her hands kneaded the mounds of titflesh between her fingers, making her moan with delight as she began to bounce them up and down.
The cock disappeared between the twin globes, and the blonde groaned with pleasure.
"Oh my
goddddd
," she murmured, eyes rolling back with bliss. "That feels
sooo
good, baby." Her nipples were pink as erasers and standing straight up at the peaks of her breasts. "That's right, fuck my big titties," she urged. "Your cock is the fucking best thing that's ever happened to me." She shivered as waves of pleasure broke over her body and she pumped her tits up and down like she was fucking the cock with her tight, wet snatch.
The engorged, purple head somehow broke through and appeared out the top, and she leaned forward eagerly. "Mmm," she groaned, flicking out her tongue to taste the drips of precum beading at the tip. "Let me take care of this for you, sir..." Her mouth eagerly slurped up the head of the cock, bathing it with her tongue. She closed her eyes as ecstasy shot through her.
With her tits still wrapped around the shaft, she wantonly sucked and sucked at the head, begging for a hot, sticky load. "
Fuck me, sir!
" she cried out, her head falling back as another clenching wave of pleasure washed over her. "That's right... Make me cum just from fucking my funbags, my knockers, my β"
I groaned and came, my head falling back and my legs clenching. Strand after strand of my seed fired like a geyser, hot and sticky as I aimed it at the breathtaking blonde before me... on the computer screen. My cum spurted across the desk, landing in a pool beside my laptop as I slumped back in my chair. Everything in my small, dark office was quiet for a moment as I breathed deeply through my nose, winded.
Fuck...
I glanced quickly around the empty office furtively, then grabbed a Kleenex from the box at the edge of my desk and wiped off the cheaply-stained wood. In a moment, there was only a slight, shiny smear.
You're not supposed to do that,
I told myself, zipping my cock back into my pants.
Look but don't touch. That's your job.
I sighed.
How did I get myself into this position?
A lot of guys would probably envy me. After all, how many men get to watch porn for a living? But if anyone had asked me, which they didn't, and if I had answered honestly, which I wouldn't... It kind of sucked. I couldn't tell people what I did because girls would think I was a pervert and guys would probably just ask me if I fucked any of the pornstars. Which, of course, I never had; the second biggest drawback of the job, after the part where people think I'm a freak, was the fact that I was constantly surrounded by fantastically sexy women who would never have even looked at me twice.
I was what's known as "quality control." Yes, some porn studios actually have that. My job was to watch videos and give the studio the final thumbs-up before they were launched out into the deep, dark hole that is the Internet. I had to be on the lookout for all sorts of tiny mistakes that could "ruin" the video for the viewer. Did the cameraman's shadow fall into any of the scenes? Is there any part where the audience can hear the director whispering instructions off screen? Did the tip of one of the microphones creep into a few frames as the sound guy leaned in closer to capture each and every moan and gasp?
Honestly, I didn't think that any of that would matter to someone watching. But Teragon Regional And National Corporation for Entertainment, Inc. β my boss always forced me to use the full name, someone just end me already β were freaks for perfection. I think some of the higher-ups just got off to the fact that their products were the widely-held to be the best, most-viewed videos online.
Shaking my head, I stared at the image on my screen. Amber ... the blonde bombshell with piercing baby blues who I had so recently watched as she used her mouthwatering knockers to get off both me and that lucky bastard on camera.
What a piece of ass...
I groaned for a second time and clicked the file I'd just viewed, attaching it to an email. "Stellar job, as usual!" I typed to my supervisor. "No problems here! β Chance" I clicked send, then put my face in my hands. I used too many exclamation points in my emails. I think it was my subconscious's way of trying to convince me that I was excited about working here.
I sighed.
Fuck
, I thought again.
Time for the next one.
I loaded up the next film, a short clip of one of our newest actresses β a tight little redhead named Daisy β as she seduced and fucked one of our stars, Trey Wood.
Trey's nice enough
, I thought, zoning out as I watched. I'd been on-set before, helping directors to fix and reshoot tiny clips, and Trey had fist bumped me one time when I'd suggested an angle for the camera that made his dick look several inches bigger.
"Thanks, man," he'd said with a cocky grin, before going out and fucking some gorgeous, big-breasted brunette silly.
Back to the video...
I thought, refocusing.
"Are you my horny little nympho slut?" Trey asked on-camera, and I observed keenly as Daisy melted, her dark eyes burning with lust.
"Yes, sir," she murmured, biting her lip and staring up at him with naked need. "I'm whatever you want me to be..."
Suddenly, my thumb hit the Space bar without my consent, pausing the video.
Wait...
I thought, having the strangest sense of dΓ©jΓ vu.
I've heard that line already.
* * *
I blew out a breath and laid back against my headboard, my laptop screen glowing softly in the darkened bedroom. "No way..." I murmured softly. But I couldn't deny that the evidence was mounting.
In the past ten hours, I had watched dozens of TRANCE, Inc. videos carefully. I had finished up at work, come home and plopped down on my bed with a bag of chips and a buttload of porn. For the first time, though, I hadn't even felt the urge to masturbate. I was too focused on digging up evidence for my impossible theory.
You know this theory
is
impossible, right?
I asked myself. But a small, niggling part of my brain disagreed.
I closed my eyes, clip after clip cycling through my brain. Somewhere in the script of
every
TRANCE, Inc. video the man asked the question, "Are you my horny little nympho slut?" Usually it was near the beginning. Sometimes, it was hidden in other dialogue. But
every time