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An outrageously uninhibited porn star who loves to fuck and flash makes her biggest fan’s dream come true when she agrees to become his wife.

To tell the truth, the first time I laid eyes on my future wife, she was feverishly sucking a cock that must have been nine inches long while, simultaneously, another cock was churning in her pussy. I was sitting in the back row of a Times Square movie house, watching a triple-x-rated movie and jerking off underneath my overcoat, which was folded over my lap. I had been making the rounds of employment agencies that day and had ducked into a porno theater to perk up my spirits. Little did I know that the woman dominating the screen, a beautiful blonde with large breasts and a nice round ass, would be the woman I’d marry.

I sat there in my three-piece suit, vigorously pumping my cock, as I watched this actress fucking with inferno intensity. The scene ended with the two male actors spraying their copious ejaculate all over her face and ass. She scooped it up with her long-nailed fingers and swallowed it with evident pleasure. This lady was really into her role, a professional exhibitionist. I came in my fist and wiped it up with my hanky, hoping I wasn’t too obvious in my ardor. I looked around and realized that in the entire theater there were only about five other guys, who couldn’t have cared less.

Even though I had just enjoyed a powerful orgasm, I stayed rooted to my seat, hoping that this dreamboat would reappear on the screen. She did ¾ in a girl-girl scene that set new standards for cinematic cunnilingus. I watched her naked, writhing form with a concentration normally associated with brain surgeons, my jaw slack, my cock revived to iron-bar stiffness.

I sat through the movie once more and caught the actress’ name, which I won’t divulge here because she leads a double life. I found that out when I met her in the flesh at a wedding in Alabama, of all places. My best buddy from college was getting married, and I was the best man. The wedding was one of those old-fashioned affairs thrown by a respectable old southern family. So you can imagine my surprise when I realized that the maid of honor was my favorite porn actress. It turned out that she was a sister of the bride, and it was clear that no one in her family knew about her occupation.

It was, however, electrically apparent to me. Over and over during the service, I leaned out of the line to gaze over at the bride’s side, sure that I had it wrong. But this was the one, the star of all my wet dreams; and after the service, she proceeded back down the aisle on my arm. It was thrilling.

During the reception, I managed to arrange a moment alone with her. She introduced herself as Christie. “Ah, so that’s your real name,” I said. She looked alarmed. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Let me just say that you are my favorite actress, bar none. I’ve got every one of your movies in my private collection. I’m your biggest fan.”

Christie didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she motioned me over to a secluded area.

“You won’t tell anyone?"

“Why should I?” I asked.

“Good,” she exhaled. “I’ve managed to keep it a secret. Nobody here would be caught dead watching a porn movie. Except, of course, the best man.” She smiled, her eyes bright with mischief.

“So why do you do it, if you’re so afraid of being found out? You obviously don’t need the money.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve got a trust fund that takes care of me. I do it because I love it. Believe it or not, nothing makes me more excited than fucking guys in front of the camera.” Her casual use of the expletive in such a refined atmosphere threw me off guard. “So you’re a big fan, eh, Cliff? Well, care to experience a little star magic?”

Here I was with my fantasy woman, and she was propositioning me. I couldn’t believe it. Christie laughed at my embarrassment and dragged me by the elbow to the parking lot. She led me to her car, a white Cadillac. We tumbled into the back seat, the taffeta skirt of her dress tickling my nose. My pants were around my ankles in a flash. Her red fingernails were dancing up and down the length of my cock, toying with my balls and caressing the inner surface of my thighs. Her tongue performed an agile dance around the tip of my cock. I practically came right then, I was so thrilled by my fantasy finally coming true.

Christie just giggled and easily sucked my length right down to the root. She expertly massaged my sac as she Hoovered my cock like the pro that she was. My hands started roaming over the raspberry taffeta and managed to get hold of one of her voluptuous breasts. With a little maneuvering, I had her tits free of her dress and began to massage her nipples, making her tiny knobs erect.

“Yes,” she said huskily as she lifted her mouth off my cock. “Let’s fuck!” She moved back on the seat, pulling up her rustling bridesmaid’s skirts and pulling down her panties. As I prepared to enter her, I realized that we were still in the parking lot and that a few people were walking around.

“Egad, what if somebody sees?” I burst out. Christie laughed heartily.

“That’ll be nothing new for me. Besides, this is the way I like it. With an audience. Now fuck me hard.”

I obliged her and slowly sank my cock in Christie’s pussy, inch by inch, savoring every transcendent moment. I hadn’t fucked anyone in the back seat of a car in a long time, but the old memories came rushing back. The danger of being caught, the impetuosity, the smell of a leather interior, all made my cock feel as if it weighed ten pounds. At times our gyrations caused her flouncy dress to interfere with our coupling, but I plunged into her with increased urgency, and when I came I nearly passed out.

After we disentangled ourselves, she smoothed out her dress, kissed me on the cheek and stuffed her panties in my breast pocket. Then she slid out the door and went back to the reception. I figured that this was to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and that I was destined to go back to my humdrum existence. I was wrong.

A year went by and my obsession with Christie continued. I bought every tape she made, and I jerked off fiercely as I watched them, the memory of that tryst in her white Cadillac still vivid in

my mind. I could still smell her, still taste her. I had even written to her, hoping that she would remember me and respond in kind, but instead I got back an autographed picture.

I was living in San Francisco at the time, and as I was driving through the Tenderloin district one day, I noticed her name on the marquee of an adult theater. Christie was going to perform live and in person, one night only. Tonight was the night. Needless to say, I was in the front row.

The audience had to wait quite a while before she appeared. First we were warmed up by some other strippers and a few of the finer scenes from Christie’s cinematic career. Then, to the accompaniment of frenzied cheering from the crowd, she appeared onstage. Her long, luscious legs were covered in black fishnet stockings, and she wore black heels that must have been four inches high. She wore a tight-waisted tuxedo jacket that was cut high enough to show her flimsy panties and lace garter belt. Under the jacket she wore a rose-red brassiere. On her head was a silk top hat, and he carried a walking stick. That was Christie all right-class all the way.

Christie’s first number was done to the tune of “Falling in Love Again,” and she vamped it up like Marlene Dietrich. We gents in the front row were treated to intense eye contact, conspiratorial winks and blown kisses. She pulled a red rose from her lapel and gestured as though she were going to hand it to some lucky guy in the audience, something I’m sure she did in every show she performed. This particular evening, she handed it to a guy she had fucked in the back seat of her car-me.

At first she didn’t recognize me, but as I took the rose from her and lightly touched the back of her hand, the shock of recognition set in. She stopped for a second, her eyes narrowing. Then she smiled, a dazzling smile that melted my heart. She pinned the rose to my shirt and kissed me squarely on the lips. The other men hooted and jeered at my good fortune. Then Christie whispered in my ear, “Fasten your seat belt; I’m not through with you yet.”

During the numbers that followed, Christie successively peeled off her jacket, bra and panties. As I watched with rapture, I felt as though she were performing solely for me, and in a sense she was. I was the focus of her act; I received all the come-hither looks. As she peeled off her panties and threw them to me, the fellow sitting behind me said, “Hey, who do you know, pal?”

My excitement was so keen all during the show, I was practically delirious. My imagination ran wild, and I began to picture an ending to her show that would incorporate me as a porn star, too: The crowd thinks the show is over. But Christie has an encore in mind. “Don’t kill the lights yet!” she yells. “There’s one final number I have in mind, but I’ll need audience participation.” The men in the room rise to signal their willingness. But Christie doesn’t give them a second look. She walks straight toward me, extends her hand and pulls me onstage.

“What are you going to do?” I whisper to her.

“I’m going to give you a blowjob in front of all these people. Are you game?”

The crowd starts up a rhythmic clapping as she sucks me to the root, and I throw my head back and look up at the lights, my head spinning. I come close to the point of no return and tell her so. She releases her lip-lock and points my weapon at her tits, and it explodes in a fountain of pleasure. The cheers from the audience are deafening. We are a hit.

My reverie was broken when Christie took her final bows. Before she exited, she leaned over the edge of the runway and whispered in my ear, “Meet me backstage. I’ll make sure they let you in.” Perhaps my fantasy would come true.

In her dressing room, we talked over coffee. “What I want to say to you, Cliff,” she said, lighting a cigarette, “is that you’re the only guy I’ve been attracted to from the quote-unquote straight world, right? So what do you say?” I sat there, my heart beating wildly, thunder-struck. “Sounds pretty crazy, doesn’t it — you and me as an item? But let me add, if you want to give me a chance, you have to know up front that I’m not giving this up. This is what makes me happy. I love to fuck, and I love to flash. If you could live with that, then I bet we would have a chance.”

How many men could embrace a girlfriend who takes one cock up the ass and another down her throat because it’s part of her job? I don’t know about other men, but I grabbed the chance. Christie and I began dating, and as time passed, we found that we enjoyed many of the same interests, felt very comfortable with each other and shared a lot of laughs. In short, we were falling in love.

The only issue was her concern about whether or not I could handle her on-the job encounters. My reassurances were not convincing her. Finally I suggested that she invite me down to the set. “If I watch you perform and it doesn’t bother me, would you believe me then?”

My palms sweaty, I drove with her down to the motel where she was filming that day. It was so surreal: Here she was, just another commuter on her way to work, but to a job that only a few brave souls dared to perform. Perhaps some of the secretaries and executives who shared the freeway with us had secret dreams about acting out their own wanton fantasies for the camera, or stripping in front of an audience of admiring men; but Christie was living out her fantasies. When we arrived, she kissed me chastely and walked off to the wardrobe room. I met the director and her costar, a handsome well-built guy wearing a robe.

Finally Christie came out, all made up and wearing a robe over some frilly lingerie. Jack, her costar, took off his robe, revealing his naked body. I stood passively in a comer of the crowded room and watched as the cameras rolled. If Christie was self-conscious about my presence, it didn’t show. A member of the crew whispered to me, “She’s really unique in this business. She really loves what she’s doing. You can see it in her method. We all think she actually comes on camera.”

I watched my girlfriend with pride as she sucked Jack’s cock. He swung her around into a sixty-nine as the camera zoomed in on his tongue flicking against her clit. Then they’d break and focus on her moist lips sucking his huge cock. They went through a variety of positions, stopping and starting, but Jack never lost his hard-on. I learned that Jack was a highly valued performer because he was hung like a horse and didn’t require a fluff. They fucked in the missionary position, spoon-fashion, with one of Christie’s stockinged legs pointing straight up in the air and doggy-style, with Jack fucking her from behind and her cheeks jiggling with each stroke.

About an hour passed before the director announced that he was ready for the come shot. I breathed a sigh of relief. My cock felt like a lead weight. I couldn’t take much more before I shot off in my pants.

“Where do you want it?” Jack asked casually.

“On her pussy and her garter belt. Make sure you get a lot on the garter, it’ll make a nice shot.” And so Christie lay back with her knees pulled up to her breasts as Jack slid his wonder-cock into her tight cunt. He pumped steadily for a few minutes, then accelerated.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he panted. He withdrew and expelled his seed, his aim true as he coated Christie’s pubic hair and garter belt. She reached out and masturbated Jack to the last drop, her other hand rubbing his come into her pussy. A few seconds later, the director yelled a satisfied “Cut!”

Christie walked over to me and kissed me hard, her tongue snaking into my mouth. “I’m exhausted,” she said. “Let me take a hot shower and I’ll be right with you.” We went back to her dressing room, which was another motel room full of lingerie and other costumes used in the movie. I sat on the bed while she showered. When she came out she came to me, naked, and joined me on the bed. We kissed tenderly. My cock, turgid and throbbing from watching all that hot action, pointed due north.

“Oh, so watching me has made you all hot and hard?” she teased me.

“You better believe it,” I whined. She rolled me over, straddled me and lowered her pussy right down onto my cock. I marveled at this wonderful girl and the pocket of warm flesh she was sharing with me, and it was amazing to think as I came that my juices were mingling with Jack’s.

As we relaxed in our postcoital euphoria, I realized that Jack had actually been watching from the doorway. He was smiling and gave me the thumbs-up. I turned to Christie and instantly realized that she’d known he was watching. This woman had an exhibitionistic streak that just wouldn’t quit.

Christie continues to be a pornographic film star giving her best to her profession. When she comes home, though, she is a considerate and imaginative wife, making me the luckiest man in America.

" />

Star Magic

An outrageously uninhibited porn star who loves to fuck and flash makes her biggest fan’s dream come true when she agrees to become his wife.

To tell the truth, the first time I laid eyes on my future wife, she was feverishly sucking a cock that must have been nine inches long while, simultaneously, another cock was churning in her pussy. I was sitting in the back row of a Times Square movie house, watching a triple-x-rated movie and jerking off underneath my overcoat, which was folded over my lap. I had been making the rounds of employment agencies that day and had ducked into a porno theater to perk up my spirits. Little did I know that the woman dominating the screen, a beautiful blonde with large breasts and a nice round ass, would be the woman I’d marry.

I sat there in my three-piece suit, vigorously pumping my cock, as I watched this actress fucking with inferno intensity. The scene ended with the two male actors spraying their copious ejaculate all over her face and ass. She scooped it up with her long-nailed fingers and swallowed it with evident pleasure. This lady was really into her role, a professional exhibitionist. I came in my fist and wiped it up with my hanky, hoping I wasn’t too obvious in my ardor. I looked around and realized that in the entire theater there were only about five other guys, who couldn’t have cared less.

Even though I had just enjoyed a powerful orgasm, I stayed rooted to my seat, hoping that this dreamboat would reappear on the screen. She did ¾ in a girl-girl scene that set new standards for cinematic cunnilingus. I watched her naked, writhing form with a concentration normally associated with brain surgeons, my jaw slack, my cock revived to iron-bar stiffness.

I sat through the movie once more and caught the actress’ name, which I won’t divulge here because she leads a double life. I found that out when I met her in the flesh at a wedding in Alabama, of all places. My best buddy from college was getting married, and I was the best man. The wedding was one of those old-fashioned affairs thrown by a respectable old southern family. So you can imagine my surprise when I realized that the maid of honor was my favorite porn actress. It turned out that she was a sister of the bride, and it was clear that no one in her family knew about her occupation.

It was, however, electrically apparent to me. Over and over during the service, I leaned out of the line to gaze over at the bride’s side, sure that I had it wrong. But this was the one, the star of all my wet dreams; and after the service, she proceeded back down the aisle on my arm. It was thrilling.

During the reception, I managed to arrange a moment alone with her. She introduced herself as Christie. “Ah, so that’s your real name,” I said. She looked alarmed. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Let me just say that you are my favorite actress, bar none. I’ve got every one of your movies in my private collection. I’m your biggest fan.”

Christie didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she motioned me over to a secluded area.

“You won’t tell anyone?"

“Why should I?” I asked.

“Good,” she exhaled. “I’ve managed to keep it a secret. Nobody here would be caught dead watching a porn movie. Except, of course, the best man.” She smiled, her eyes bright with mischief.

“So why do you do it, if you’re so afraid of being found out? You obviously don’t need the money.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve got a trust fund that takes care of me. I do it because I love it. Believe it or not, nothing makes me more excited than fucking guys in front of the camera.” Her casual use of the expletive in such a refined atmosphere threw me off guard. “So you’re a big fan, eh, Cliff? Well, care to experience a little star magic?”

Here I was with my fantasy woman, and she was propositioning me. I couldn’t believe it. Christie laughed at my embarrassment and dragged me by the elbow to the parking lot. She led me to her car, a white Cadillac. We tumbled into the back seat, the taffeta skirt of her dress tickling my nose. My pants were around my ankles in a flash. Her red fingernails were dancing up and down the length of my cock, toying with my balls and caressing the inner surface of my thighs. Her tongue performed an agile dance around the tip of my cock. I practically came right then, I was so thrilled by my fantasy finally coming true.

Christie just giggled and easily sucked my length right down to the root. She expertly massaged my sac as she Hoovered my cock like the pro that she was. My hands started roaming over the raspberry taffeta and managed to get hold of one of her voluptuous breasts. With a little maneuvering, I had her tits free of her dress and began to massage her nipples, making her tiny knobs erect.

“Yes,” she said huskily as she lifted her mouth off my cock. “Let’s fuck!” She moved back on the seat, pulling up her rustling bridesmaid’s skirts and pulling down her panties. As I prepared to enter her, I realized that we were still in the parking lot and that a few people were walking around.

“Egad, what if somebody sees?” I burst out. Christie laughed heartily.

“That’ll be nothing new for me. Besides, this is the way I like it. With an audience. Now fuck me hard.”

I obliged her and slowly sank my cock in Christie’s pussy, inch by inch, savoring every transcendent moment. I hadn’t fucked anyone in the back seat of a car in a long time, but the old memories came rushing back. The danger of being caught, the impetuosity, the smell of a leather interior, all made my cock feel as if it weighed ten pounds. At times our gyrations caused her flouncy dress to interfere with our coupling, but I plunged into her with increased urgency, and when I came I nearly passed out.

After we disentangled ourselves, she smoothed out her dress, kissed me on the cheek and stuffed her panties in my breast pocket. Then she slid out the door and went back to the reception. I figured that this was to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and that I was destined to go back to my humdrum existence. I was wrong.

A year went by and my obsession with Christie continued. I bought every tape she made, and I jerked off fiercely as I watched them, the memory of that tryst in her white Cadillac still vivid in

my mind. I could still smell her, still taste her. I had even written to her, hoping that she would remember me and respond in kind, but instead I got back an autographed picture.

I was living in San Francisco at the time, and as I was driving through the Tenderloin district one day, I noticed her name on the marquee of an adult theater. Christie was going to perform live and in person, one night only. Tonight was the night. Needless to say, I was in the front row.

The audience had to wait quite a while before she appeared. First we were warmed up by some other strippers and a few of the finer scenes from Christie’s cinematic career. Then, to the accompaniment of frenzied cheering from the crowd, she appeared onstage. Her long, luscious legs were covered in black fishnet stockings, and she wore black heels that must have been four inches high. She wore a tight-waisted tuxedo jacket that was cut high enough to show her flimsy panties and lace garter belt. Under the jacket she wore a rose-red brassiere. On her head was a silk top hat, and he carried a walking stick. That was Christie all right-class all the way.

Christie’s first number was done to the tune of “Falling in Love Again,” and she vamped it up like Marlene Dietrich. We gents in the front row were treated to intense eye contact, conspiratorial winks and blown kisses. She pulled a red rose from her lapel and gestured as though she were going to hand it to some lucky guy in the audience, something I’m sure she did in every show she performed. This particular evening, she handed it to a guy she had fucked in the back seat of her car-me.

At first she didn’t recognize me, but as I took the rose from her and lightly touched the back of her hand, the shock of recognition set in. She stopped for a second, her eyes narrowing. Then she smiled, a dazzling smile that melted my heart. She pinned the rose to my shirt and kissed me squarely on the lips. The other men hooted and jeered at my good fortune. Then Christie whispered in my ear, “Fasten your seat belt; I’m not through with you yet.”

During the numbers that followed, Christie successively peeled off her jacket, bra and panties. As I watched with rapture, I felt as though she were performing solely for me, and in a sense she was. I was the focus of her act; I received all the come-hither looks. As she peeled off her panties and threw them to me, the fellow sitting behind me said, “Hey, who do you know, pal?”

My excitement was so keen all during the show, I was practically delirious. My imagination ran wild, and I began to picture an ending to her show that would incorporate me as a porn star, too: The crowd thinks the show is over. But Christie has an encore in mind. “Don’t kill the lights yet!” she yells. “There’s one final number I have in mind, but I’ll need audience participation.” The men in the room rise to signal their willingness. But Christie doesn’t give them a second look. She walks straight toward me, extends her hand and pulls me onstage.

“What are you going to do?” I whisper to her.

“I’m going to give you a blowjob in front of all these people. Are you game?”

The crowd starts up a rhythmic clapping as she sucks me to the root, and I throw my head back and look up at the lights, my head spinning. I come close to the point of no return and tell her so. She releases her lip-lock and points my weapon at her tits, and it explodes in a fountain of pleasure. The cheers from the audience are deafening. We are a hit.

My reverie was broken when Christie took her final bows. Before she exited, she leaned over the edge of the runway and whispered in my ear, “Meet me backstage. I’ll make sure they let you in.” Perhaps my fantasy would come true.

In her dressing room, we talked over coffee. “What I want to say to you, Cliff,” she said, lighting a cigarette, “is that you’re the only guy I’ve been attracted to from the quote-unquote straight world, right? So what do you say?” I sat there, my heart beating wildly, thunder-struck. “Sounds pretty crazy, doesn’t it — you and me as an item? But let me add, if you want to give me a chance, you have to know up front that I’m not giving this up. This is what makes me happy. I love to fuck, and I love to flash. If you could live with that, then I bet we would have a chance.”

How many men could embrace a girlfriend who takes one cock up the ass and another down her throat because it’s part of her job? I don’t know about other men, but I grabbed the chance. Christie and I began dating, and as time passed, we found that we enjoyed many of the same interests, felt very comfortable with each other and shared a lot of laughs. In short, we were falling in love.

The only issue was her concern about whether or not I could handle her on-the job encounters. My reassurances were not convincing her. Finally I suggested that she invite me down to the set. “If I watch you perform and it doesn’t bother me, would you believe me then?”

My palms sweaty, I drove with her down to the motel where she was filming that day. It was so surreal: Here she was, just another commuter on her way to work, but to a job that only a few brave souls dared to perform. Perhaps some of the secretaries and executives who shared the freeway with us had secret dreams about acting out their own wanton fantasies for the camera, or stripping in front of an audience of admiring men; but Christie was living out her fantasies. When we arrived, she kissed me chastely and walked off to the wardrobe room. I met the director and her costar, a handsome well-built guy wearing a robe.

Finally Christie came out, all made up and wearing a robe over some frilly lingerie. Jack, her costar, took off his robe, revealing his naked body. I stood passively in a comer of the crowded room and watched as the cameras rolled. If Christie was self-conscious about my presence, it didn’t show. A member of the crew whispered to me, “She’s really unique in this business. She really loves what she’s doing. You can see it in her method. We all think she actually comes on camera.”

I watched my girlfriend with pride as she sucked Jack’s cock. He swung her around into a sixty-nine as the camera zoomed in on his tongue flicking against her clit. Then they’d break and focus on her moist lips sucking his huge cock. They went through a variety of positions, stopping and starting, but Jack never lost his hard-on. I learned that Jack was a highly valued performer because he was hung like a horse and didn’t require a fluff. They fucked in the missionary position, spoon-fashion, with one of Christie’s stockinged legs pointing straight up in the air and doggy-style, with Jack fucking her from behind and her cheeks jiggling with each stroke.

About an hour passed before the director announced that he was ready for the come shot. I breathed a sigh of relief. My cock felt like a lead weight. I couldn’t take much more before I shot off in my pants.

“Where do you want it?” Jack asked casually.

“On her pussy and her garter belt. Make sure you get a lot on the garter, it’ll make a nice shot.” And so Christie lay back with her knees pulled up to her breasts as Jack slid his wonder-cock into her tight cunt. He pumped steadily for a few minutes, then accelerated.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he panted. He withdrew and expelled his seed, his aim true as he coated Christie’s pubic hair and garter belt. She reached out and masturbated Jack to the last drop, her other hand rubbing his come into her pussy. A few seconds later, the director yelled a satisfied “Cut!”

Christie walked over to me and kissed me hard, her tongue snaking into my mouth. “I’m exhausted,” she said. “Let me take a hot shower and I’ll be right with you.” We went back to her dressing room, which was another motel room full of lingerie and other costumes used in the movie. I sat on the bed while she showered. When she came out she came to me, naked, and joined me on the bed. We kissed tenderly. My cock, turgid and throbbing from watching all that hot action, pointed due north.

“Oh, so watching me has made you all hot and hard?” she teased me.

“You better believe it,” I whined. She rolled me over, straddled me and lowered her pussy right down onto my cock. I marveled at this wonderful girl and the pocket of warm flesh she was sharing with me, and it was amazing to think as I came that my juices were mingling with Jack’s.

As we relaxed in our postcoital euphoria, I realized that Jack had actually been watching from the doorway. He was smiling and gave me the thumbs-up. I turned to Christie and instantly realized that she’d known he was watching. This woman had an exhibitionistic streak that just wouldn’t quit.

Christie continues to be a pornographic film star giving her best to her profession. When she comes home, though, she is a considerate and imaginative wife, making me the luckiest man in America.

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