Chapter 10
Toni Davon hardly blinked when she saw the rushes of the film.
She knew now what she was. Accepted it, and thought she liked her sexuality.
She found herself liking everybody! Even Rory and Mike.
It had been a shock when she discovered that what they had all done together had been filmed, but her dismay had dissipated as she sat in the projection room of Chris and Shawna's big house and relived it in living color on the screen.
Strangely, she was not upset.
The taffy-haired young wife had instantly agreed to let some film clips be used by Carleton Harris's magazine as she sat with her arm possessively around little Micah. She had found that the road to love and acceptance of herself had many turnings. She was slightly annoyed when Chris Gael intruded, asking her to meet the young, almost invisible, but good-looking man who had operated the projector. His name was Paul, and he seemed to be very shy, hardly able to look her in the eye. He was certainly handsome, but there was something about him.
Chris diplomatically explained the situation and Toni felt excited at the idea. She said, "Yes ... I'd love to, if you'll have me." She paused and added, "I don't care if you're gay!"
They went to a bedroom where there were no mirrors, and with a freedom she didn't think she had, Toni said, "I want to be naked with you."
She slipped her thin shortie dress off and slid her gossamer, lace-edged panties down her shapely legs as he stood and stared.
"Oh, come on, Paul," she said gently, and began to undress him, as he stood, trembling. As his slacks dropped to the floor, she dropped to her knees, her now-skilled fingers caressing his male body. His penis was limp. She fondled it and felt response. She rolled the thick foreskin back over the bell-shaped head and murmured, "You're beautiful!"
She kissed the velvet softness and took it into the hot wet cavern of her mouth and felt it grow. She felt her new power as a woman, knowing this was for her, that she was. making it happen. Toni wanted him to cum in her hungry mouth, but knew he needed more than that.
He needed to know he could fuck a woman.
He was as rigid as the trunk of an oak as she rose and pulled him to the bed and then on top of her, and, before he could subside, deep into her lubricious cunt.
"OOOOHHHH... THIS IS GOOOODDDD!" the aroused girl cried, screwing tightly up the pole of his male-flesh. She clawed and clutched and kissed and bit and her legs scissored wildly in the air as she cried out, "UUUMMM... OH, PAUL!! FUCK MEEEEEE!!!!" And she came.
"Oh, God," the sweating blonde murmured, holding him tight, her legs scissored around his sweat-damp back. "I've never had it like that before. Never, Paul." Dazedly she rolled her deep dark eyes, clutching and kissing his sweating body. Tenderly Toni brushed his tumbled hair back as she whispered, "You're wonderful... and you can go both ways!"
"Oooh, your cunt...your beautiful cunt!" he breathed. "You know, I think I can do it again, Toni."
"OOOHHHH... YEEEESSSSSS!" she whispered, beginning to undulate as she felt him growing hard again in her seething pussy. "DO IT. DO IT... OH, PAUL, FUCK MEEEEEE!!!"
The film and tapes were edited and some transition scenes and dialogue were worked out. When Toni saw herself, she realized that. with a good photog and editor, she was much more than a model. She was really an actress; her unleashed sexuality came through. To her, Rory was almost a robot; there was a coldness in the scenes where he appeared. Chris Gael, by the time he and Paul had finished cutting the film and tapes and looping in sound, confessed with a grin that he had set it all up to get blue-movie, but this he would hold.
Show it at Cannes, get worldwide recognition.
What had started out as a sneaky porn project had, with judicious editing, become a beautiful love story, orbiting around a lovely but repressed young girl awakening to her own sexuality.
And Toni Davon was the star.
She knew it was good, because it was real. She hadn't been acting. The feelings of passion and humiliation were undeniable.
A lawyer was called and came to prepare contracts. None of them noticed when Rory Davon left. He was suddenly gone, and the only thing any of them later knew of him was that his name appeared on the masthead of Carleton Harris's magazine as chief photographer.
Toni didn't cry. She felt some sorrow because her dream had broken, but now she had new friends. She could touch and kiss them and they could do the same to her, and it was all beautiful. The movie, finally titled THE GIRL, picked up a couple of awards at Cannes, was banned in Boston, Kansas City, and San Diego, and was an instant success.
After Rory disappeared, Toni Davon had to face the problem of finding living quarters. Moving in with DeCosta wasn't practical, and she hated the hotel anyway. The deserted wife finally opted to stay where she was wanted, with Chris and Shawna Gael. Paul was staying there also, working on new films and exploring his new-found sensual growth. Micah kept her own small apartment, but slept at the Gaels' on a few occasions, usually sliding into the bed with the others. DeCosta came when he had a chance.
Toni found it a lovely arrangement. Nobody jealous or demanding. In the dim, mirrored bedroom, lighted only by a candle, soft lips would begin to kiss the sensitive flesh of her legs and then engulf her flowering cunt; or a rock-hard penis might rub across her lips until she awakened enough to lick and suck as it slid smoothly into the depths of her throat; or a cock would ease into her always ready pussy.
She liked the freedom to be herself and yet feel she belonged. Rory had tried to use her and keep her in a cage. She was honestly glad he had decided to go away.
It was so good, being able to do the natural things.
Walk naked in the sun. Swim naked in the pool. Be casually kissed on the breasts or belly or cunt by any of them, and do the same, with no shame.
Touch and be touched, kiss and be kissed, and return the love.
This is life, she thought as she sat with legs crossed in the full lotus position, and the sun burned her skin and bleached her hair. This is life. And it was a new life for the beautiful blonde girl. In the end, it was always Paul who was most satisfying for her. The nights when he would come home, it would be just the two of them in the center arena -
And she would feel the fine shreds of panic entwine her, wanting him so badly. Her hand would become a cup, moving down between their bodies, into the pocket of his crotch. He had told her he liked that. The meat would harden between her dancing fingers. He would bend into her with his full weight, and she would hurl her arms about him, dig at his back, and her breasts would bounce and jostle as the lines of his mouth felt her nipples erecting. And she would be rising, rising, poised beautifully on the balcony of explosion, wild and wonderful thoughts galloping through her brain. Her soft mouth would open under his and her smooth tongue would find its snug, warm place in his mouth. And they would fuck deeper, deeper, closer and closer to the core of her soul, milking her passion dry as her vaginal muscles dragged him into her, wet and wild.
He would suck furiously on her hardened nipples, his body moving frantically on top of hers, his thighs locked together between her opened legs.
And the mad excitement would surge through her body, the prick gloved tightly, trapped in the creamy mass of her liquids. He would use his hands to hold her asscheeks together as his sperm shot into her, and her ass would tense and contract between his fingers, wanting it all in greedy spasms of lust images that flashed through her mind. And she would writhe deliciously with its delivery, soaking in its warmth, feeling the shock. And then her hands would move to his buttocks, demanding, urging, guiding the flow.
And other times there would be a pumping, straining hard thickness that she would suck into her mouth, as if forever. Or there would be a familiar face disappearing between her legs, a wet tongue lapping at the tender slit. And sometimes her own lips would strain to a sensuous "O" with the thickness of a penis inserted hotly, the head plunged down her throat, almost gagging her until she could adjust to the long, thrusting strokes, as the cock fucked the clinging lips of her mouth. She had learned the tender secret of pulling on it, sucking on it hard, her tongue always working, making slurping sounds.
Her nights were nights of gasping in warm, wonderful pleasures, and her vaginal lips seemed to be always moist and wanting more.
How wonderfully her life had changed! And, as time went by, she realized that all one had to do is let it be.
The days went into nights, and the nights into days, and life was like a merry merry-go-round, always exciting, always full of promise. Some nights they would all just sit and look at each other, smiling. They had found a happiness that so few people ever dream of!