S is for SEX

  Dear. Fucking. God.

  And, just like that, my decision was made.

  I was going to fuck Rhett. Or let Rhett fuck me.

  Maybe a little of both.

  But, my decision to fuck Rhett was made, and it was an easy one to make.

  Especially with him standing before me completely naked. Hell, any single woman who was in front of a half-naked former Navy SEAL as handsome as Rhett would live in the moment and deal with the repercussions later.

  For her to claim otherwise would be a complete and utter lie.

  I tossed my shirt to the side, pulled my bra off with a level of expertise I had no idea I possessed, and pressed my thumbs into the waist of my shorts. While I fought to free myself of the tight cotton fabric, he began to walk toward me.

  Obsessed with the girth – and length – of his dick, my eyes remained locked on his thick shaft.

  With my shorts around my ankles, and my knees slightly bent, my eyes remained fixed on his swinging cock. He stopped a few feet from me and placed his hands against his waist. I tossed my shorts to the side and knelt in front of him.

  Eye-to-dick with him, I struggled with what my next move should be. I reluctantly shifted my eyes upward, hoping to find the answers in his returned gaze. Instead, I looked directly into the ceiling-mounted camera above him.

  The reality of it all hit me like a ton of bricks. I was preparing to have sex with someone I didn’t really know while remote cameras filmed it. Potentially, in a few short months, millions of people would watch an edited version of what happened.

  It should have turned me away.

  Instead, for whatever reason, it turned me on.

  I’d seen episodes of MTV’s Real World, The Bachelorette, and The Bachelor. When the participants of the show hooked up, they typically hid beneath the sheets in a darkened bedroom. The infra-red cameras filmed a grainy black and white scene that left a tremendous amount to the imagination of the viewer.

  But we were going to have sex in broad daylight.

  “There’s a uhhm. A camera,” I stammered, pointing above him and toward the globe-shaped device in the corner of the room.

  “I know,” he said flatly.

  “It doesn’t bother you?” I asked.

  His cock twitched. “Not at all.”

  “It kind of turns me on,” I whispered.

  His mouth curled into a mischievous grin. “Me, too.”

  Without so much as a moment’s thought, I reached for his rigid shaft. After a few light strokes with my cupped hand, I guided him into my mouth. The thought of the production crew intently watching while I gave him a blowjob fueled me to perform at the peak of my dick-sucking ability.

  Sixty seconds later, and he was as hard as a diamond. Everything – his cock in my mouth, his muscular physique, and the thought of being watched by a room full of men – had me soaked beyond comprehension.

  I worked my mouth up and down his swollen shaft, exercising caution and care with each stroke. His moans of pleasure that followed left little to the imagination regarding his satisfaction, and I eagerly continued.

  His moaning increased. After a moment, without warning, he pulled himself from my mouth. I gazed up, more than willing to suck him to completion, but also hoping that our first encounter would be fractionally more satisfying for us both.

  His chin raised slightly. “Stand up.”

  I wiped the back of my hand past my lips and complied with his request. Now standing directly in front of him, my eyes nervously danced around the room. It was apparent the kissing and groping that often came with relationship-based sex wasn’t going to happen.

  We were simply two people who were satisfying our sexual desires.

  In short, we were fucking.

  And, even though I really, really liked to be kissed, I decided I was fine with that.

  He motioned toward the bed. “Turn around.”

  I eagerly did as he asked, fully prepared for whatever was next. After waiting a few long seconds, I glanced over my shoulder, only to find him stretching a condom over his throbbing cock.

  An inaudible sigh escaped me as I turned toward the bed.

  He leaned into me and pressed his mouth to my ear. “Looking for Mr. Compatibility, huh?”

  His muscular torso pressed against my back caused my legs to go weak. His warm breath against my ear did the rest. I all but collapsed onto the bed. With my boobs down and my ass up, I was his for the taking.

  I felt his cock dancing between the insides of my thighs.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  I raised my head slightly and widened my stance. “Uh huh.”

  Before another word was spoken, he guided himself into me.

  “Holy--” It felt as if I was being impaled. I inhaled a choppy breath. “--Shit.”

  My eyes shot wide. He pushed himself a few inches deeper. I blinked repeatedly and tried to retain my wits, but his massive girth was far more than I was accustomed to. It was, however, exactly what I dreamed I would one day experience.

  Following several half-hearted strokes, he began to fit me like a glove. With my hips in his hands and my face buried in the comforter, he began to fuck me like he was trying to teach me a lesson.

  All without speaking a word.

  I found it odd that he didn’t say anything during our sexual romp. The sound of his hips slapping against my ass filled the room, and his thick cock stretched me to an entirely new limit…

  But I wanted more.

  I yearned to have him talk to me. Even if it was a line of mad shit, telling me I was a cock-loving floozy. Anything.

  Yet. Nothing came.

  And, that lack of communication became a mood killer. All but on the verge of an earth-shattering orgasm, I lost whatever interest I had in finding sexual relief. He continued to pound himself into me while I remained smashed against the end of the bed with my head buried in the comforter.

  A bellow filled the silent room – an announcement of his approaching climax. I feigned equal excitement, and gave my best performance at faking an orgasm. I couldn’t tell if he believed me- because he didn’t say anything.

  He collapsed at my side, his muscular body tense and covered in sweat.

  I wasn’t angry, nor was I dissatisfied with him.

  However.

  I studied his smiling face and slowly filled with regret.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I had rushed home from the bar and was now poolside with Rhett, relaxing in the sun. Life in the southern California mansion was far different than the life I had been living, but it would be easy to become accustomed to.

  He exhaled heavily. “This sun is brutal.”

  I turned to my left and opened my eyes. He wiped his brow with his hand, then tilted his head in my direction.

  “I’m used to the sun in the Midwest. 80 degrees isn’t hot,” I said. “In Kansas, it gets up to 115 in the summer. This is relaxing.”

  “No, this sun’s a bitch,” he complained. “I’m getting in.”

  His muscles were long and lean, giving him the appearance of a triathlete or a fitness model, but not that of a weight lifter. In a poolside lounge chair while wearing his swim trunks, he looked nothing short of phenomenal.

  Despite Rhett’s handsome looks and his athletic physique, my mind still drifted to thoughts of Franky’s previous claim of being good at dirty talking. It wasn’t constant, but it happened.

  Repeatedly.

  Rhett sat upright, causing his stomach muscles to flex while he did so. After a lengthy session of admiration, I tore my eyes away and looked beyond him, toward the pool. “Okay, I’ll get in, too.”

  He jumped from his seat and dove into the crystal clear water, leaving almost no splash. His faultless US Navy-inspired SEAL dive left me envious.

  I stood up, and while Rhett swam the length of the pool, I dug the bottom of my swimsuit out of my ass crack, and then my crotch. In looking up, I realized Bobby was filming every second of
me removing my clothing from my crevices and folds.

  In the short time I had been living in the house, I had become so accustomed to the cameras that I often forgot they were filming us. But. They filmed everything.

  I flipped him the bird and sauntered toward the pool in my best rendition of a supermodel runway stroll. While the camera lens followed each well-placed step, I wondered if they could include the defiant act in the aired version of the show, and if not, decided censorship would be used to my advantage.

  I wanted my dive to look as good as Rhett’s, but doubted I possessed the grace of a trained Navy swimmer. I dove in anyway.

  When I surfaced, Rhett was at my side – wet, muscular, and tan. He shook his head, and then swept his hair back. His once gray eyes seemed blue, and it was the first time I had seen them as anything but an assembly of gray translucent flecks.

  I smiled, and he smiled in return.

  He was an extremely attractive man, and although our botched sexual escapade was still in the forefront of my thoughts, I realized I needed to give him a second chance.

  I felt everyone deserved one. In fact, any prison sentence that wasn’t a lifelong term provided an opportunity to the criminal in question for one more shot at life.

  And, if a criminal was allowed a do-over, why wouldn’t I allow Rhett a second chance at sex?

  I decided I should.

  He draped his arms over my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “I wanna fuck.”

  I felt I should say something about his lack of intimacy, but instead, reached for his cock. Partially protected from the camera’s view by the motion of the water, I kneaded his dick in my hand. In a matter of seconds, it went from flaccid to rigid. Standing in the chest-deep water eye-to-eye with each other, I began to stroke the entire length of it.

  He tilted his head forward.

  I did the same.

  Our foreheads touched.

  “We should fuck out here,” he whispered.

  The thought of it was exciting, but I immediately dismissed it as an impossible task. “God that sounds hot,” I whispered. “But, there’s no way.”

  He leaned away and lifted his chin slightly. “Why not?”

  “Bobby’s twenty feet from us.” I sighed. “And he’s always filming us.”

  He nodded. “My point exactly. He’s always twenty feet from us. And, if we go fuck in the bedroom, they’ll be filming it anyway. Nobody can see us out here but the camera crew. Let’s give ‘em a show.”

  My pussy liked the idea. A lot. What little common sense I had, however, seemed to prevail. “But--”

  “But what?” he snapped back. “If they weren’t here, would you?”

  I realized I was still mindlessly stroking his cock through the thin material of his shorts. I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Really?”

  “Hell yes, I would,” I whispered.

  “We can’t let them keep us from being ourselves. We signed on for this shit, so let’s act like they’re not here.”

  I couldn’t believe I was considering it, but he did have a point. I focused on his glistening blue eyes. “Seriously?”

  He pulled away, taking his cock with him. “Yeah, seriously.”

  He waded to the edge of the pool, and then got out. His stiff cock stuck straight out, stretching his shorts to their limit. While I watched him fumbling with the drawstring of his trunks, I realized he planned on removing them. Or at least it appeared to be the case. His eyes met mine.

  He grinned.

  And, the shorts came down.

  Standing at the edge of the pool, naked as the day he was born, he began to stroke his cock.

  I watched as Bobby slowly advanced across the concrete deck, eventually coming to a stop behind one of the many poolside tables. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time he had seen a man’s stiff cock. Either that, or he was truly a professional. With the lens fixed on Rhett, he stood motionless and continued to shoot the footage of Rhett fisting his massive dick under the warmth of the California sun.

  I struggled with right and wrong. My moral compass spun in circles. After a few seconds of feeling my heart beating between my legs, I succumbed to the desire to be fucked while Bobby eagerly watched.

  I made my way to the edge of the pool. The cameraman and I seemingly shared the same passion, as both of us had our eyes glued on Rhett’s cock-filled hand. After lifting myself from the water, I gracefully walked to my lounge chair and grabbed my towel.

  I tossed the towel on the concrete in front of Rhett and lowered myself to my knees. It seemed ridiculous, and although it was something I would have guessed I would have never done, I was certainly in the midst of it.

  The sun beat down on my shoulders, Bobby continued to film, and I began to suck Rhett’s cock like a porn star. I guess for that moment, at least, I was pretty close. I flattened my tongue against the bottom of the swollen shaft, took as much of his length into my throat as I could, and shifted my eyes toward the camera.

  He was five feet or so closer than he was when I got down on my knees, and the camera was fixed on the action. I would probably never admit it – more than likely not even to Rhett – but being filmed while I sucked his cock was a huge, and I do mean huge, turn-on.

  I banged the tip of his cock against the back of my throat while I massaged his balls with my right hand and squeezed his muscular ass with my left. As I gave the blowjob of a lifetime, the sexual tension built within me like a ticking time bomb. Soon, I released his ass, shoved my hand into my bikini bottom, and began fingering myself.

  After a few minutes, I continued to suck with true sincerity while I pushed another finger into my wet pussy. As soon as the second digit was knuckle-deep, the camera, my throbbing clit, and Rhett’s cock pounding against the back of my throat proved to be too much.

  An orgasm shot through me like an electric wave. I opened my mouth and drew a long, deep breath around the shaft of Rhett’s swollen dick, incapable of remembering when the last time anything half as satisfying happened to me.

  I continued to finger myself like a woman possessed by sexual demons, eager for another orgasm of epic proportion. I glanced at Bobby. The camera was fixed on my crotch.

  Ohmygodthisissofuckinghot.

  My enthusiasm must have been contagious. Rhett pulled himself from my mouth, and lifted me from my knees.

  He nodded toward my waist. “Take ‘em off.”

  Without reservation, I tore off my bikini bottom and tossed it aside.

  He hoisted me into the air. To steady myself, I reached around his neck and locked my fingers together, then pressed the insides of my legs into his sides. He grabbed my ass firmly in his hands, cradled my thighs with his muscular forearms, and lowered my throbbing pussy toward his cock.

  Although it wasn’t something I had ever done, I had dreamed about having a man fuck me while suspended in the air. I needed no further instructions. I reached between my legs and guided his cock inside of me.

  As I felt the pressure of his girth penetrate my wet folds, I wrapped my thighs around his waist and closed my eyes.

  I bit into my lips while he thrust himself back and forth with precision. The movement of his hips made it seem much more like art and much less like sex, but my overly satisfied pussy disagreed.

  This was definitely sex.

  I began to tingle all over, and an odd pressure built within me. Uncertain if I was on the verge of another monumental orgasm, or if a heart attack was imminent, I opened my eyes.

  Bobby was mere inches from us. The lens of the camera panned back and forth from my waist to our very satisfied faces. I glanced between his legs. His cargo shorts did little to hide his level of excitement.

  My moaning did little to hide mine.

  Convinced I had found my calling in life, I relaxed momentarily, and that little bit of relaxation was apparently all I needed.

  The pressure that had been building within me released, sending me into a state of orgasmic bliss I had never known. r />
  I arched my back and cried out, releasing my satisfaction for all of southern California to hear. Rhett breathing became irregular, and after drawing a choppy breath, he followed with a deep moan of his own.

  His cock swelled to twice its girth, and with one last thrust, he erupted deep inside of me.

  My eyes went wide. “Oh my…”

  He returned my wide-eyed stare.

  “God,” I breathed.

  My body shook for several seconds, as did Rhett’s. When my ears finally stopped ringing and my breathing slowed to a dull roar, he lowered me onto my shaking legs. I stared at him blankly and braced my hands against my thighs – just to keep from falling over.

  Although I didn’t look, I felt Bobby’s presence at our sides. His filming of everything undoubtedly took the experience to an entirely different level.

  “What the fuck did you do to me?” I asked.

  He didn’t say a word, but returned a sinful smirk.

  It was all I could do to stand. I shook my head and lowered myself onto the towel.

  “That was fucking hot,” he said. “I’m glad you did it.”

  I looked up and grinned, holding an imaginary glass high in the air in toast.

  Here’s to second chances.

  REALITY GIRL II

  Buy Reality Girl Episode Two Here

  CHAPTER TEN

  Angry at Kelli and what she represented, I’d spent a good part of the afternoon in hiding, and the most recent portion sleeping. I realized after my late afternoon nap that if I was going to make it through to the end of the show I would need to find a way to keep her and her attitude from getting on my last nerve.

  Now wandering through the house looking for Les, I was hoping I could talk him into going for a ride on the bike – or maybe having a drink or three – to forget about Kelli and her shitty attitude.

  “Have you seen Les?”

  Bobby shrugged. “I haven’t seen him in a few hours.”