Chapter 19

“Hi, Honey, I’m home,” I called as I entered the house and shut the door behind me.

“Hi!” she called back, sounding somewhat out of breath. “We’re ... in the ... Ohhh, yes, that’s nice. Right there! Living room! Agggh! Bitch!”

I hung up my jacket on the hooks by the door, slipped off my shoes and ambled into the lounge. I can’t say I was completely surprised to see my wife in my favourite armchair, skirt up around her waist, legs hanging over the arms with her knickers on the floor beside the chair and with Mel on her knees in front of her, lapping at her cunt.

Mel flicked her eyes up at me and grinned even as she tongued my wife’s pussy.

“Started without me?” I said, casually.

“Didn’t know what time you’d be back,” Mel said, lifting face from between Emma’s legs. My wife grabbed the back of the younger woman’s head and directed her back to the job at hand.

“Where are Dom and Amber?” I asked as I sat on the sofa to enjoy the show.

Mel again lifted her head to answer. “Gone clubbing,” was all she managed to say before Emma again pulled her mouth back to her pussy.

“Oh. Right. Okay. Good evening?” I asked. “Did you finish the list for me to look at?” I grinned as Emma shot me an evil look.

“Stop asking asinine questions and get behind the little bitch and fuck her,” she said. “Fuck her as hard as you can, but don’t you dare let her cum. See how she likes it.”

I chuckled as I stood and undid my belt buckle before kneeling behind Mel and pushing my trousers down to my knees. She was wearing a short pleated skirt and she wiggled her arse at me as I flipped it up. I held her steady and pulled the gusset of her skimpy panties to the side so I could slip my cock into her.

God, I loved my life.

“Okay,” said Emma, “We’ve got three lists. Well, four actually.” We were all properly dressed again, all glowing from our living room tryst and sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop in front of us. Emma and Mel were sitting on either side of me.

“This is a list of up and comers and complete newbies,” Mel said. “They would be ideal for the Mr Dick series.”

“I hate that name,” I said.

“Yes, but it works,” Emma said, “So deal with it. It’s a damn sight better than Dick Does, that’s for sure.”

“This is a list of established girls,” Mel said, holding up the second piece of paper. “They are both British and European. I know them, they know me and I trust them. We can work with them. We’ll come up with little scenarios for each one. This list—” She picked up another piece of paper. “—is also established girls, but I don’t know them. Some of them I’ve heard of, some of them I don’t. Some I want to work with—they have a star by their name. We might be taking a risk with them, we might not. We really can’t tell until we get them on set. Call this a last resort list.”

“And this is the avoid list,” Emma said. “Girls with poor reputations. This is our list of last resort. We don’t want anything to do with the people on this list unless we have no other choice. And I think we’ll always have another choice.”

“How many?” I asked.

“On this one?” Emma said, still holding the avoid list.

“No. All together.”

“Over fifty on these three lists and another twenty on that one,” Mel said.

“Fifty? Christ!”

“Don’t worry,” Emma said. “I’m going to sit down with Ashley tomorrow and we’ll draw up a schedule. I don’t want you doing more than three shoots a week—ideally just two—but we do need to produce enough content to keep the store ticking over, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, I think we can easily keep you busy for the rest of the year.”

I rubbed my face in my hands. It was just now sinking in that my new career really was a job. Yes, an enviable job, but a job nonetheless. And it looked like it was going to be hard work.

Monday, Wednesday and Friday one week, Tuesday and Thursday the next. That was the shooting schedule that Emma and Ashley came up with for me. Emma and Mel had helped me look through the three lists—we basically spent all that evening and the next day looking at pictures of naked women and watching porn videos—and I’d tried to put the women on each list in some sort of order of preference.

That was a hard job, though. Really hard.

Then the next day Emma and Ashley had started making calls and sending messages and making bookings. On Friday morning, when my scene with Amber was released on our website, Emma presented me with my work schedule for the next month with ten names on it. I’ll give her and Ashley credit, they’d certainly made sure I’d be having plenty of variety over the next four weeks.

There were names from all three of Emma’s lists and their ages ranged from barely legal eighteen through to mid-fifties (which would be the first time I’d ever fucked someone older than me). There were blondes, brunettes and red-heads. There were women with all-natural bodies and those who’d been surgically enhanced. There were ladies from all corners of the UK—with at least one from each of England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland—and a range of European countries as diverse as France, Holland, Ukraine and others.

In some respects, it was a daunting timetable they gave me, but hey, how many guys would give their right arm to be handed the same opportunity? I know that even just six months ago, I certainly would have.

And smack in the middle of my schedule, my scene with Emma, I mean Kitty, was due to be released.

Because of this new shooting schedule, we decided to step up our release schedule from once a week—on Fridays—to twice a week—Mondays and Fridays. To achieve this and keep to the plan of giving Kitty’s comeback scene enough time to create a buzz of expectation, we moved my scene with Dom up to the Monday following Amber’s scene’s release and inserted my scenes with Kristi and the group scene with Parker, Cindy-Lou and Lizzie into Friday and Monday before Kitty’s scene would drop.

After that, we’d have seven scenes in the bank ready to release—my scenes with Lucja and Erika and the five we’d be shooting over the next two weeks.

I was going to busy. Mel and Daisy would be kept busy editing. And, hopefully, the website would be busy too. And by the end of the four weeks Emma and Ashley had booked for me, we’d have a month between filming a scene and releasing it—giving us plenty of time to promote each and every one.

At least, that was the plan.

And we all know what they say about the best-laid plans.

The first week of shooting went about as well as possibly could have hoped. The actresses we’d booked turned up at the warehouse studio on time and with a good attitude.

Monday saw me working with Bonnie Campbell, a bubbly, Scottish blonde in her mid-twenties who was a good friend of Mel’s. She was famed for large natural breasts and womanly curves which made her stand out compared to other models of her age (and younger) who tended to be either skinny with no boobs or skinny with big fake boobs.

Bonnie wasn’t fat by any reasonable definition of the word. In fact, she had a figure not unlike Kristie Belle’s and was probably about average for most women in the UK. And yet she was often marketed as plus size or a BBW. I made it clear I was having none of that with this video—we would showcase Bonnie as the sexy, curvy young woman she was.

Our shoot was a lot of fun. She played a neglected horny housewife and I was a delivery driver with a package from one of those websites that sells lingerie and sex toys. Already dressed in a short satin robe, black stockings and lacy underwear and sporting a pair of open-toed, fluffy pink slippers with a low heel, she opened the package as soon as I handed it over then asked me to help her test her new toy.

The shoot took far longer than it really should have simply because we were having such a good time. Bonnie and I clicked and kept making jokes at the other’s expense, which led to Daisy demanding we re-shoot time after time after time. That afternoon may have been the longest I’d maintained an erection without coming since my days in the city—and back then those sessions were fuelled by something other than a sexy young woman.

On Wednesday, I got to film a new Mr Dick scene with a stunning young lady from Northern France, Celine Dior. She was another of Kat’s clients and only a few months removed from her eighteenth birthday. That made her the youngest actress I’d worked with so far. A petite brunette with just about as sexy an accent as it’s possible to have, she called me Monsieur Deek, rather than Mr Dick. I’ll give Emma her due—she knew what would get my motor running when she picked who to book.