Separating the Twins
Chapter 10

Copyright© 2012 by Pretty in Pink

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Lia and Liz are twins, and now they've gone their own ways in life. Liz has entered the Air Force Academy, while Lia explores the world of TV and movies. TV sitcoms revolving around sex? TV soap operas on the same subject? Lia gets involved, but not the way people would think. It's a brand new genre (so to speak), and being in on the ground floor is a big plus.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Swinging   Group Sex   Orgy   Voyeurism   Nudism  

I got myself into a couple of the Social Club shoots, though they very carefully didn't show my face. The first was of me taking it between my boobs. It was shot from the top down, so you didn't see my face, not even a glimpse. Instead you zoomed in on a girl holding her boobs together while a guy sawed back and forth. He came, little spurts of white come that spattered all over her boobs. Later you saw her boobs, coated with white streaks, as she massaged it into her skin and then put on a bra.

I'd done that a few times, but the come dries and rubs against the soft flesh of your breast. It's an uncomfortable feeling, though the intent is sexy.

The other scene was of a girl getting it from behind. They didn't show my face (and I wore a wig), but you got a good look at my boobs hanging down, and a close-up of my pussy as a guy pushed his cock into it. That was the first time I'd really gotten any in several months, and the guy didn't disappoint. I was in the background as he slammed his hips into my bottom time after time. I made all sorts of noise, and while I didn't come, I had to say so.

It was interesting actually seeing myself in action. The closest I'd come was watching Liz back when we both did it. I must say, it's an experience, even for someone who was now used to being on camera. He kept it in me as he came, and the audience got a look at a used condom with a thick load of come in the tip. I found it sexy, even if no one else did.

I left that scene to pull on my clothes, race over to make-up, and shoot a scene in the show I was in. One of the girls in the scene did me better, she pulled on her clothes, and ten minutes later was in a live stage production of some Shakespeare play. People didn't realize that only a few minutes before she'd been exercising her lungs, and her female parts, on a different stage.

That brought home to me the utter necessity of my getting laid on even a semi-regular basis. To be frank, I needed some dick, and I needed the male attention that came with it. The problem was to do so in such a way that would work around my shooting schedule and not jeopardize what I had. That's always a problem women have: how to get more without losing what you have.

I could understand these feelings. The mating and reproductive instincts are very strong in young females. The subconscious is funny, though. It wanted me to get laid so I could produce children. It had no knowledge of birth control. I was willing to settle for that. I wanted to have kids, but not at the moment, and I could get laid without making a baby. I was definitely more careful than my Mom.

A girl has a lot of choices when it comes to preventing a pregnancy. The first, of course, is abstinence. That doesn't work for very long. Eventually the biological imperative gets to you, clouds your judgment, and you end up with either a ring on your finger, or a bun in the oven. The former is socially more acceptable than the alternative.

Condoms—I've covered them. Popular, easy to use, and generally reliable, but this girl wasn't a fan of them. The female condom was an alternative, and I burst out laughing when a guy complained that it killed all the enjoyable feelings.

Male birth control had one obstacle, as far as I was concerned: guys don't get pregnant. You trust the guy, but how much? I suppose if you actually rub the birth control cream on him you could trust him. But other than that...

The IUD was an attractive alternative, until you started bleeding, or had one dig itself into the wall of your uterus, or cause other problems. It seemed as if it was causing problems when it wasn't preventing a fertilized ovum from implanting itself. So no thank you.

The Pill, in all its varied forms, was a good alternative, and for the longest time I took mine. But when I hadn't seen any action that warranted taking one, I seriously considered saying no. You have all sorts of potential complications. It was as if Mother Nature wanted women to have babies, and anything that interrupted with that, other than abstinence, was going to cause problems. And if you forgot to take your Pill, you could rely upon residual effects, or take the Morning After Pill. On the island that wasn't a problem, but there were people who fought contraception tooth-and-nail, and they wanted the Morning-After option banned.

I'd opted for a version of an implant. Every three months I got a shot and the doctor put a slowly-dissolving crystal in my arm. It had the proper levels of estrogen so I was protected. Of course I had the problem that I seemed to have fallen into the habit of abstinence, and so I was doubly protected against making a baby.

My "fling" at taking part in a sex party was only the beginning, or so I told myself. I met up with a guy who worked in the town. He'd fallen and messed up his leg, so he was out of it for a while. We met at the little grocery store. We got to talking, and he lamented that he wasn't getting any, while I complained about the same thing. I think it hit us both at the same time. We both had the same problem, and we could both solve it together.

Working in the town meant he'd had to learn to pace himself. A lot of guys get it with the women who visit (just like the guys get it on with the female workers). We had a very nice evening, getting to know each other, and even woke up at least once in the middle of the night to renew that acquaintance. He sent me off to the set with one more romp. That was in his shower, and I really enjoyed getting clean with him. I was in a much better frame of mind when I got to make-up. What I think we both enjoyed was that there was some affection, and a whole lot of passion.

His name was Ted, and we became semi-regular. While others had moonlight or candlelight dinners, our dates were generally with one of us flat on our backs. My knees became very familiar with his hips, and there were a couple of evenings when my boobs spent more time in his mouth than they did in my clothes.

We didn't carry it to excess, though. This was a once a week thing, more or less. People on the set noticed my attitude got real upbeat. The old harridans don't understand that a lot of personal problems go away when you get nailed by some hard piece of male anatomy right in your girl place. Of course I doubt if they'd ever had a climax in their lives, and a climax washes all of your problems away, or at least puts them in perspective. It isn't the climax itself that does it for the girl, though that's very important, it's the whole process. But that's the difference between men and women: men are after the result, women are after the process, and the result is nice. Hunter, gather.

I found out later that this change in attitude came at just the right time to save my job. The producers were thinking of easing me out because I was getting "difficult" and not showing what they wanted. But suddenly I was bright, energetic, interacting with everyone in ways that improved the shot (we sometimes made up dialogue as we went along), and so on. The day I cracked a horrible pun that made the cameraman and the director laugh so hard we had to re-do the shot seemed to seal the deal. All plans to ease me out were shelved, and they wrote in a couple more scenes for me.

I was going to miss when Ted went back to full-time in the town. He'd be getting all of the sex he could ask for, and face it, a guy only has so many climaxes in him in one day. I'd heard of a porno stud who got off six times in one day, but I suspected the last two or so weren't that much fun. I was going to enjoy this while I could.

As I lay there one night and we made happy noises together, I reflected that this was the first time I'd had sex and my parents hadn't been involved in some way, shape, or form. Even when I'd been in the town, I was staying with them. All of the other times had been part of a party. Okay, there was my Prom, and the two guys, and that was a normal teenage girl experience, and without my parents, but that was it. My nights with Ted, not as frequent as I could have wished, were really the first time it'd been just me and a guy in a bed, naked and together. It even answered one of those questions girls aren't supposed to have: what do you do when there's only one guy in bed with you?

 
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