Copyright 2017, Jenelle Watson
When this totally true story took place, I had moved to Los Angeles eighteen months ago, just after my eighteenth birthday. My parents weren’t exactly pleased, but they’ve always let me live my own life, for better or worse. Their motto is ‘Everything is a learning experience.’
I ran out of money more quickly than I expected, and had to depend on my parents until I got a job at Starbucks.
I had assumed that if one works forty hours a week, one can get by with money to spare. Not so! Not in California, anyway. I had four roommates, could never buy music, my clothing was all secondhand, and I didn’t even have a Netflix account. It’s a good thing I don’t drink or smoke, because I couldn’t afford it.
The reason I moved to LA is to become an actress. That’s my passion, and I decided I’d do it no matter what. Except for one thing. I had seen many other girls who were ruthless. They didn’t care who they stepped on. They didn’t worry about cheating, hurting people, or breaking laws, as long as they got ahead. I wasn’t going to do any of that, even if it meant working at Starbucks the rest of my life. During my eighteen months, I had exactly thirty auditions, and failed every single one. Actually, I thought I aced most of them, but the casting directors didn’t even have the decency to tell me they picked someone else.
I became more desperate, seeking out less likely roles, such as old ladies, fat ladies, children, even an effeminate man, in case by magic I could get the part. I even tried out for parts in commercials representing things I’d never buy myself, which was stretching my ethics to the limit.
One day, I auditioned for something I shouldn’t have. I thought, if I actually got the part, I could turn it down, and not tell the casting director, just like they all didn’t tell me when I didn’t get the parts.
The role was pornographic, although I didn’t realize quite how pornographic it would be. After all, it was a major studio. Recently, they had been making movies like “Nymphomaniac,” which as I understood it, are quite raunchy.
This was probably the role I was most unqualified for of all, still being a virgin.
It was to be a very small part, not a speaking role, and I was to be having intercourse. The movie was to take place on the West Coast of California, in the late 1800s. I had assumed the sex part would be simulated. On the other hand, I guess there was a part of me that knew, or hoped, it might not be. I am kind of a randy girl, even if it is mostly in my imagination. I do masturbate often, and my fantasies are, well, quite pornographic.
In my fantasies, I’m often practically raped by a guy I just met who has a very large penis, and is rather ruthless in its use. While dreaming that, I play with a fairly large diameter purple vibrating dildo I bought before I discovered how tight money can be. If that thing were to ever break, I’d be in trouble, because I wouldn’t be able to afford a replacement, and it would be like losing a plastic boyfriend.
Before the audition, I looked at some porn sites on my crappy old laptop. I’ve seen fucking online before, but I studied it in more detail. You know, just in case I would be auditioning for the real thing, not simulated. I didn’t study the websites long, because I felt such a strong urge to masturbate that I couldn’t resist.
So, the audition was on a Tuesday at 10am. Starbucks here in LA, at least my branch, is very good about allowing the employees to take care of personal business, as long as we could work it out among ourselves to make sure the place was never short staffed.
I got on the bus at 8:15 am, leaving plenty of time to get to Hollywood. I arrived at 9:45, and it took every second of that last fifteen minutes to find the right building, and walk past all the other studios. One doesn’t show up late if one has any intention of getting a part, that’s for sure.
I walked through the small door in a huge wall, into what seemed like total darkness. It took my eyes a minute to adjust from having been in the bright California sun. I saw brightness on the far side of a large room and walked in that direction.
By the time I got there, I could see the situation. There was a double bed and a recliner on a oval rug, surrounded by bright lights, tripods, reflectors, and the usual cinematic clutter. Beyond the lights, in the darkness, was a long table with four guys and a woman sitting, looking at laptops or phones, all evidently doing their own thing.
To the side, also in the relative darkness, were about thirty folding chairs arranged in three rows. Most of them were occupied by women like myself. Surprisingly like me. I’ve never gotten over the silliness of ‘the look.’ There’s a certain way all aspiring actresses, including myself, think we have to look when we show up for auditions.
I took a seat, and mumbled “Hi” to the women near me, who mumbled “Hi” back. I pulled out my Android phone with its cracked screen, and busied myself reading a book. I love the thing. Since getting that phone, I’ve never had to wait impatiently for anyone. There’s always a website to see or a book to read, so if you need to go to the bathroom or something, I’ll be fine, not bored.
I only read a paragraph when a man walked in to the lighted area. He was tall, and looked a bit like Cary Grant. Except I had never seen Cary Grant naked. This guy was starkers, right down to his penis, which was soft, but shaved.
This totally shocked me. It shouldn’t have, because I knew it was supposed to be a pornographic part. Yet, I somehow hadn’t expected the reality of the situation to hit me that hard. It also set of a minor electric shock in my body. I knew I’d be frigging myself like crazy after this was all over.
The women around me gasped. I assumed it was because of the naked man. Then, looking more closely at his face, I gasped too. It was Kendrick Williams!
He sat on the edge of the bed, talking casually with the people at the table. I would have given anything to hear their conversation, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Suddenly, one of the men at the table grabbed a microphone, and said, “I’d like you girls to come up, one at a time, starting from the left of the first row each time we call ‘Next,’ tell us your name, answer a few questions, show us your SAG card, and then fuck our volunteer here, Mr. Kendrick Williams.”
As I fumbled in my purse looking for my Screen Actors Guild card, one of the women in our group asked, “What kind of questions?”
The woman sitting at the end of the long table answered, “Things like do you smoke, do you drink, are you are straight or gay, do you have a significant other. Please understand, your answers are entirely voluntary.”
There was some momentary chatter among the women sitting around me. I had never heard of such a thing at an audition before, and they hadn’t either. I figured that being a non-smoker and non-drinker, I was out of the running for sure. And, I wasn’t going to lie, although I considered it for a second.
“This will be an outdoor scene. When it is filmed, you’ll be on a beach. For today, imagine that the bed is sandy.”
The people at the table laughed slightly. There was general murmuring among the thirty chairs.
He went on, “We don’t want anything overly dramatic. You are to represent a woman who meets a random guy who comes along and is open to getting fucked by him. Don’t ask, it’s part of the script.” And he laughed.
This was real, and suddenly, I was scared to death. Doubly scared because it seemed that not only would I have to remove my clothing in front of someone other than my parents and in the gym showers for the first time in my life, but I’d be fucking. But here’s the thing: I had never fucked anyone. I’d be losing my virginity to one of Hollywood’s biggest stars during an audition. How weird is that?
“OK, first lady, please,” another man at the table called out.
The woman on the far end of the first row got up, looking exactly like she was nervous but resolutely trying to hide it. I imagined that’s how I was going to look in a few minutes.
As she approached the table, she said, with very good diction, “I’m Sonja Dixon, and I’m honored to be here.” She answered the questions, indicating she drank and smoked, had a boyfriend, and was Catholic. They hadn’t asked her religion, but she volunteered it.
“Yup, OK, take off your clothes and fuck Kendrick,” one of the men at the table said.
I couldn’t believe the callousness of it. The business as usual attitude about something so intimate. Maybe that’s the way it’s done in porn. I didn’t know.
She quickly removed her clothing, stumbling nervously as she stepped out of her panties. She laid on the bed, and Kendrick approached. He climbed on top of her, and in a moment they appeared to be fucking. I was dumbstruck, knowing I’d be in her place in a moment. I had a million emotions about that all at once.
It was super-scary. It was way too personal, especially in front of all these people. It was also a bit exciting, in some sort of exhibitionist way, that I couldn’t have articulated at the time. Finally, I knew I had to grow beyond Starbucks. If my first role might be a fuck scene, so be it. Lots of major stars had been seen in sex scenes in the movies.
Besides, in my moral code, there was nothing wrong with it. If two consenting adults want to do anything reasonable, as long as it is safe and doesn’t hurt anyone, why not?
They rolled around on the bed for a couple of minutes. She was moaning, screaming, and swearing.
The woman at the table said, “You don’t have to make any sound. All sounds for this scene will be replaced with music.”
The woman immediately shut up. I was glad about that, because she sounded quite loud yet insincere to me. But then again, what did I know?
Kendrick got up, and the woman’s audition was over.
Someone at the long table said, “Thank you.” Then, “Next.”
The next woman approached the table, enthusiastically announced her name, admitted being a drinker, and had a young daughter. She took off her clothes, and climbed on the bed. Kendrick got on top again, and they started fucking, silently. It lasted no more than two minutes.
Four more women followed suit. Each was so typically American, being a smoker, drinker or both, and most had other issues as well. Being pretty sure that’s what they were looking for, I was rather disappointed that I wasn’t going to get the part. I stayed only because it had taken so much effort to get here. Oh, and the scary and exciting business of possibly losing my virginity to Kendrick Williams of all people. If I answered the questions to their satisfaction. How cool was that?
At one point I noticed something, that gave me great relief and disappointment at the same time.
They weren’t truly fucking. Kendrick’s penis was soft. He was just climbing on these women, and acting out the part. I understood better what was going on. The finished movie would not show the actual super-pornographic part. That’s the way it’s done in Hollywood. In the movies, you always see the upper bodies, the boobs, the legs, maybe an ass or two, but seldom the details. That was better. I got it now. But of course, for the cameras, the actresses had to be totally nude.
The woman next to me was called. She was a knockout, tall, with blond curly hair, and very shapely. She was a smoker and a drinker. She performed well, so far as I could tell. I imagined she’d get the part. But you never know…
“Next.”
Oh my god! It was my turn. I approached the table with weak knees. I tried to keep the shakiness out of my voice as I announced “Olivia Sanders.” I answered the questions truthfully. To my surprise, they let me go ahead and audition anyway. Boy, was I a mess. I was super-scared, and sexually excited at the same time. How I managed to act right, and not collapse into a quivering mass, I don’t know.
Like the others had done, I removed my clothes, tossing them on the nearby recliner, then climbed on the bed. I was sure glad I hadn’t been the first, because having it seen so many times in a row, I knew exactly what to do. Putting all my acting skill to the test, I made it a point not to look directly at the camera, and tried to understand what it would feel like to be fucked on the beach by a handsome guy. Much like the situation at hand, I figured!
Kendrick, big Hollywood celebrity that he was, climbed gently on top of me. I mean, I would have been happy just to get his autograph. ‘Look at me now!’ I was thinking. I liked the way he smelled. I felt his curly chest hairs against my tits, and hadn’t realized having a man lay on me would be so nice. I felt his soft sexual organs fall against my lower body, and I have to say, it was rather special, even though that’s all that was going to happen.
“Francisco,” Kendrick yelled, looking toward the table, as he quit fucking me. Or, pretending to fuck me, I should say.
What had I done? I was mortified. I had done something terribly wrong.
“Frank, do you mind if we try something different?” he asked.
“Whatever Ken, go for it!”
Kendrick Williams then focused his remarkable, sparkly blue eyes on me and said gently, “Miss, um, Watson, do you mind if we experiment with something different?”
It kind of hurt that he didn’t get my name right.
What else could I say, but “OK, sure?” I had no idea what was going on, and was pretty sure I was the cause of whatever this disruption was about. My voice was shaky. I hoped he hadn’t noticed.
Glancing into the dark area where there were still around ten women sitting in the chairs, I noticed they had all perked up and were staring at Kendrick and I. Geez! This was embarrassing, and worse, I didn’t understand what I had done to set this off.
Kendrick gave me instructions, and I followed them. I knew he wasn’t the director, but a good actor always follows instructions to the T if that actor wants to stay in the movie business.
So, as he requested, I got on my hands and knees on the bed, facing the camera and the people at the long table. Kendrick climbed back on the bed behind me. I was a little concerned that my boobs didn’t look very attractive hanging down like that, but I kept that thought to myself. I felt him pressing behind me, and there was something different. His penis seemed a little more solid, as it pushed against my vagina. Oh, an erection! He was having an erection.
He didn’t press it into me, and in a moment, it was all over. I put on my clothes, and like all the women before me, I walked out into the blazing heat and sunlight, taking the bus to Starbucks. All the way, I was thinking about how weird and remarkable the morning had been.
If nothing more ever happened in my life, I’d always remember the time I got naked with Kendrick Williams, and felt his warm, hairy body against mine. What a feeling that was!
As I expected, I didn’t hear back from the casting director. I continued to put coffee in little cups and hand out cookies to hundreds of customers per day. That was what my life had become. I can’t say it was horrible. I enjoyed the company of my fellow workers, half of which were aspiring actors like myself.
There was a legend at that particular Starbucks. A guy who used to work there ‘made it’ having landed a supporting actor role in a sitcom. I always found that story inspiring.
I went to more auditions, with, as usual, no results.
Three fucking weeks after that super-weird audition with Kendrick Williams, I got a cryptic voice mail. It was from the casting director. It took me a minute to even remember that she was the casting director for that particular movie. She asked me to call her back.
I called her back, and hit her voice mail.
Two days later, and she hadn’t called back, even though I left two more voice mails. I didn’t get too excited. Or, maybe I should say, I tried not to get too excited. It was probably just some routine matter, like maybe she needed a release form signed so she could finish the audition paperwork. I was getting frustrated. What if I actually got the part, but then lost it because she and I couldn’t connect in time?
Finally, as I was helping a customer who had forgotten his debit card PIN, my phone rang and it was her, the casting director. I left the poor guy in a lurch, as I ran to the back where it was quiet enough to hear my phone. I recognized her voice. She was the one who had been sitting at the end of that long table and had that list of strange questions.
My heart was racing. I knew it was only a tiny scene in a movie, but still, I was hoping, hoping…
“Um, yes, Olivia Sanders?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Are you still available to…”
I was so excited! I got a part in a movie! I would have preferred to have an ordinary clothed part, and would have been in heaven if it had been a speaking part, but I was in. I got in the door of the movie industry! And, if the scene wasn’t cut from the final production, I’d be on screen for a couple of seconds with Kendrick Williams, himself. That was significant frosting on the cake, professionally.
Coming back to the counter, the poor fellow with the debit card was still trying to work out the details with one of my co-workers. As soon as I could, I told them all I got a part. I didn’t mention that it was a fucking part, or that I had met Kendrick Williams, actually been naked with him, in fact, but I did say it was a non-speaking part. I didn’t want them to think I had anything more major than it actually was. They were all happy for me.
The movie wasn’t to be filmed until a month later, and I had all I could do to continue pouring coffee and not go blitzo with boredom and anticipation. I continued to try out for parts, and as usual, no one called back.
The day of the movie came up, and I was told to report to a beach two hundred miles north. I hadn’t expected that. I thought it was going to be in that same studio building, even though they had said something about a beach. I thought it was going to be a synthetic beach in the building. So, I rented a car, and headed up to Avila Beach, California.
It was difficult finding the actual beach they were going to film on. It was on an unmarked road leading up a steep hill. When I found the beach in question, I parked my car among a hundred other cars, plus a number of trailers and equipment trucks, evidently belonging to the studio. I was two hours early, so I brought out my trusty cracked phone, sat in the car, and read a book. It was a raunchy romance novel, which I figured would get me horny, and I’d be better able to handle fucking for the first time.
An hour before the time I was to be there, a man approached my window, and asked if I was part of the movie. I proudly said, “yes.”
“Grab your sunglasses, sandals, sunscreen and whatever else and follow me,” he said.
I quickly stuffed a couple of things into my backpack, locked the car, and followed him. He directed me to a group of about six other people, and together we walked down a steep trail to a small beach. On the beach were about twenty nude people hanging out or playing volleyball. On top of everything else, this was my first visit to a nude beach. I tried to keep my tongue in my mouth and my eyes in their sockets. Some of the nudists were old, some were heavyset, but most were genuine eye candy.
Already assembled on the beach was a whole bunch of movie equipment. Cameras, monitors, reflectors, microphone booms, the works. Among the equipment were about twenty more people, mostly men, mostly shirtless, but wearing long pants, who must have been studio crew.
The man we followed introduced himself as the Patrick Jones, second assistant director. He said since we were there early, they could film some extra scenes that he claimed would probably be deleted. He handed me off to some tech guys, and sent the other people to another area several yards away. A man approached who was tall, thin, and had a confident walk. Oh, it was Kendrick Williams! I hadn’t recognized him at first with his clothes, sunglasses, and a safari hat on.
I said, “Hello Kendrick. I didn’t recognize you,” a bit too enthusiastically. I was glad to be around someone I knew, even if it was only from that few minutes together a couple of months ago.
Kendrick had a radiant smile for me, saying, “Sometimes I try not to be too recognizable. Olivia Sanders, isn’t it? You can call me Ken. All my friends do.”
“Yes sir, um Ken, good memory!”
“I don’t remember just anybody, but I’ve been thinking about you.”
‘Geez, what a come-on line,’ I was thinking. ‘He probably says it to all the women.’
He must have read my mind, because he added, “No, really!”
I couldn’t imagine why, but whatever.
Patrick Jones, the second assistant director, indicated some towels laid on the beach near the bluff, and said, “You two wait here, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Ken and I sat down on the towels. He immediately started stripping. I was reluctant, but thinking it over, I realized that he had already seen me naked once, and this was a nude beach after all. We could see a dozen people playing volleyball a hundred yards away, all nude. I took off my clothes, too.
“Livvy, can I call you that? You’re so white. You’ll need sunscreen.”
“Yes, I guess so,” I admitted, laughing self-consciously.
“Here,” and he fished out a tube of sunscreen from his pack, put some on his hands, then started rubbing it on my neck, shoulders and back without asking. It felt nice. Very nice. Putting more on his hands, he rubbed it into the top of my feet, my lower legs, my upper legs, then skipping what came next, he carefully applied it to my forehead and cheeks, I was truly enjoying the male attention. As simple as it was, no one had ever done that for me before.
While he was rubbing the stuff on me, three different people came by and said “hi” to Ken. I felt oddly proud that I was the one that Kendrick Williams was rubbing sun lotion on. I also felt vulnerable being totally nude, and having these clothed people coming by.
My tits and belly were still uncovered. He looked at me like, ‘OK?’ and I nodded.
Ken rubbed that sunscreen on my belly, then my upper shoulders, then my tits, which felt wonderful. I was so glad I depilated my vaginal area, because that meant it had to be covered also. Ken wasn’t shy, and rubbed it right on my pussy. I felt some wetness building. I wanted him to continue. Maybe he could go ahead and masturbate me, but I knew the notion was crazy.
“What about you?” and matching his boldness, I grabbed the tube of sunscreen and started applying it to him the same way. I couldn’t believe that here I was, rubbing Kendrick’s nude body. Oh, if I could take a picture with my phone, but that wouldn’t be right. This once-in-a-lifetime scene would have to live in my memory only.
There was a moment when everything was covered but his cock. I wasn’t quite sure what I should do, but decided that it was time to be bolder than usual. Unusual situations call for unusual measures. It’s what a star would do, right?
Putting a little more on my palms and rubbing them together to spread it, I gingerly approached that beautiful equipment of his, and started rubbing it in. His penis hardened in my hands.
“Ahh, that’s really quite nice,” he said, almost in a whisper.
Considering that he was liking it, I continued rubbing the sunscreen in, until he said, “Woah, hang on.”
I dropped his penis immediately, not knowing why he asked me to stop. I thought maybe I had hurt him.
“I was getting close.”
Call me thick, or inexperienced, but I didn’t get it for a second. Then I did. He was getting close to orgasm.
We laid down on the towels, each looking up at the sky, and started talking. For some reason, talking with Kendrick Williams was the easiest thing in the world. In a half hour, I learned about his brother and sisters, how he grew up in Chicago, and he learned a good bit about me, also.
Ken said he had been in a couple of nude scenes. He told me I’d get used to it, and we laughed.
I didn’t happen to mention that I was a virgin. I sensed it would shock him.
The second assistant director had not yet returned. We both sat up to see what was going on. There was a crowd of mostly naked people over by the other group. Evidently the production company was already filming them doing something.
As we were sitting there staring up the beach, Ken leaned over and kissed me. The kiss was quite heartfelt, and naturally turned into French kissing and good hugging.
I had a boyfriend in high school. We had kissed, and that’s as far as we got, but with Ken, here on the beach, it was much, much better!
“You didn’t need to do that,” I said, accidentally killing the mood. “I mean, I’ll do whatever the director wants. There’s no need to get me ready, or anything.”
I so wanted to believe that Ken was being genuine, but my logical brain said he was just getting me ready for a nude fuck scene, and this kissing was not from attraction at all, but instead it was business. It was Ken’s job.
He leaned back, looking quite offended. “Oh, Livvy, that’s not it at all.”
“I’m sorry Ken. I’m having trouble believing that this… that this is real. I mean, why would you, with your good looks and all, care about me, just another actress?”
He hesitated for a very long time before he answered.
“Livvy, I can’t totally explain it. As you know, I recently broke up with Marlene Michaels, like all the rag mags reported. I was feeling lonely, frustrated, and rebellious. I’ve been with a number of girls. They were all about getting ahead at all costs. I could instantly tell it was different with you. Now, I’m sure you’d like to succeed in this business, but not over anyone’s dead body.
“You remember those goofy questions they asked at the audition? They did that at my request. That was my way of sorting. I was looking for someone exactly like you. I would have settled for someone less good-looking, but you have that, too. You’re beautiful!
“I don’t normally get nude and fake fuck everyone who auditions. The day I met you, I decided to do that on a lark. But something more, too. I was looking for someone genuine, not realizing she’d be so easy to find.
“When we were in the studio, you were just another girl until you answered those questions. There was something your more natural attitude, and the way you looked, with your pretty eyes, that sent jolts of current through me.
“Anyway, I felt very strongly about you. I still have that feeling. I know it doesn’t make any sense. When you were about to get off that bed, I knew I couldn’t let it happen. I desperately looked for a way to keep you there a bit longer, and that’s why I interrupted, asking Frank to let us try another position.”
“Who’s Frank?”
“Oh, Francisco Tulare, the director.”
“Anyway, and perhaps this is admitting too much, I saw your ass. Your anus, and I found it exceedingly attractive. Don’t ask me to explain that. I’m just being honest.”
I wanted to believe him, but this sort of thing doesn’t happen in real life.
The crowd further down the beach broke up. The second assistant director came over to us and said, “Ken, we won’t be shooting that scene. Miss Sanders, thanks for coming out, you can go home.”
Seeing the extremely disappointed look on my face, he added, “Oh, you’ll be paid for today anyway.”
So, that’s the movie business. It cost me a hundred dollars more to get to the beach than what I made.
Ken and I put our clothes on and walked back up to the parking lot. I was feeling terribly dejected. Ken didn’t say much, but at the top, he asked for my phone number. Call me crazy, but I gave it to him, along with my email address, and received his information in return. I figured it was a formality, that I’d never hear from Kendrick Williams again.
Boy, was I wrong! He called that evening. “Did you get home OK?”
We talked on the phone for an hour. I was thinking wouldn’t it be something if Ken was sincere? If this could be real? He asked me on a date, and believing he’d probably cancel at the last minute or maybe not show up at all, I told him to drop by Starbucks tomorrow at 2pm, when I’d be done with my shift. He couldn’t. He was in the studio until 5pm. Thinking quickly, I told him he could meet me at Starbucks at 6:30. I’d come back to meet him there. That was workable.
The day dragged on. At two, I went home, and remembering Ken’s hard penis in my hand on the beach, I started lightly touching myself after my shower. The next thing you know, I was having a nice orgasm with images of Ken in my mind.
I was kind of kicking myself, thinking, ‘This can’t be genuine. It won’t work out.’ Then, thinking it over some more, I knew I shouldn’t get all that excited. I mean, what if Ken and I got close? What kind of life could a famous actor and a nobody have together?
It took forever for the afternoon to roll by, but finally, it was 6:30, and I was in Starbucks chatting with some of my co-workers there. I told them I was meeting someone, but didn’t say who.
Ken showed up on the dot, looking dapper in his hat and sunglasses. He also didn’t look like Ken. I had to stare for a moment to be sure. His attempted disguise didn’t do as good a job as he had hoped. Immediately a heavyset woman about forty years old, pulled out her phone and started taking pictures of him. That caused everyone else to wonder why she was taking pictures, and within moments, he was surrounded by people who wanted his autograph.
He was gracious, and signed perhaps twelve things, including directly on a young woman’s inner arm, and posed for pictures with a couple of people. While this was happening, two non-descript men came in with big, professional-looking cameras and started snapping pictures of Ken and I. They wanted to know my name. I told them I would tell them later.
“Perfect answer,” Ken whispered.
As my co-workers stared in total disbelief, Ken said, “Let’s go to somewhere more quiet.”
Out in the parking lot, we came to a large Mercedes van, which turned out to be his wheels. Once I settled into the front seat, then looked in the back. It was very well furnished, complete with a kitchenette.
He drove a weird path. I asked him why he kept turning down random side streets. As he kept glancing in the mirrors he said he was shaking off the paparazzi. This was becoming more surreal by the minute!
“Can we go to your place?” he asked.
“I suppose so, as long as you’re sure you lost those paparazzi guys.”
“Yup, they’re gone – for now.”
He fed my address into the GPS but he parked two blocks away. “They know my plates.” he said, “I don’t want them to discover where you live.”
“Um, thanks.”
A stab of fear entered my system as I realized that having any sort of relationship with a big star, even if only very temporary, could be problematic. The worst part is I didn’t even know what the problems could be. Like, I almost gave that photographer guy my name.
Putting his hat back on, and changing to bigger sunglasses, he walked over to my apartment with me, leaving his van on a side street. He met the two of my roommates who were home and they got especially sparkly. One of them said, “Really?” when he introduced himself. We both felt like we needed more privacy. I asked about going to his house, but he said that wouldn’t work out well. He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t press. The thought occurred to me that he might have a serious girlfriend or even be married.
I have always thought honest communication right up front is best, so I came right out and asked him. No, there was nobody special in his life. He said there had been, Marlene Michaels, but she turned out to be too self-interested, “like all the others,” he added.
“The problem,” he told me, “is the paparazzi. They congregate at my house, outside the gate, and if you come in with me, your life will change forever. Once they get on to someone, they don’t let go. It can be messy.”
He suggested a hotel, and I went along with it. I figured, we had already seen each other nude. We even had fake sex for a moment. It was OK under the circumstances.
We walked back to the side street to pick up his car. We drove to the hotel. It wasn’t a Motel 6. It was a high-class place. At the counter, the desk clerk became flustered and acted like Ken could make or break his career in a second. I understood, but I, personally, was starting to calm down, starting to understand that Ken was just a person, although a rich and famous person.
As soon as he slid his card through the slot, we started stripping off our clothes. Moments later, we hit the bed, and were rolling all around kissing. I was so ready to be fucked. To lose my virginity. But Ken took his time. He kissed his way down my neck, my left shoulder, down my side, my hip, then bypassed my pussy, working his way down my leg to the top of my foot, and finally my toes. Skipping over to my right leg, he went back up, but this time, he did detour at my vagina, planting a very gentle kiss right above my clit, before kissing his way back up to my neck. I saw his rock-hard penis out of the corner of my eye, and I wanted it in me more than anything in the world.
Ken complied. After putting a condom on, the first time I had seen that done in person, he climbed on top of me like the way he had done in the audition. This time, however, he didn’t just press his penis between us. Oh no, he ever so slowly worked it into my vagina. My pussy felt so nicely stretched! It didn’t feel anything at all like my vibrator. Why, I’d probably throw the damned thing out after this. I was shivering even though it wasn’t cold. Ken laid stationary on top of me, with his penis jammed all the way in for quite a while. Slowly, I felt him start sliding it slightly in and out. Instinctively, I matched his rhythm. He wouldn’t have made a good drummer, because his rhythm quickly increased, as did his breathing. He moaned, “Oh Livvy,” and I felt his whole body tighten, as he had an orgasm within me. That triggered my own orgasm, which was the strongest I had ever experienced.
I hoped the experience would go on forever, but shortly afterward, I felt that glorious penis of his starting to shrink, and then it popped out, all done. Not knowing much about guys, I asked if we could do more, but he explained that guys need to recharge before they can do it again.
We made some small talk, then fell asleep in each others arms.
In the morning, in the hotel-supplied bathrobes, after we showered and had breakfast sent up, I asked, “Ken, this is genuine, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it certainly is. Liv, I understand how you feel. I feel that way about my whole career. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m as ordinary as you. And yet, it did. It still surprises me, and I’m grateful every day.”
“Ken, why me? I mean, I’m just some random girl.”
“Hardly. Now, I can’t explain it, and I may have to try a hundred times, but you are exactly the type I like. Plus, I like the look of your asshole,” then he pushed me lightly on the shoulder, flashed his fantastic smile, and laughed.
“Let me see it again,” he added.
I was all for that. Before long, we had abandoned the robes, and were naked on the bed. I got in that position he had liked during the audition, with my hands and knees on the bed, and my ass up in the air. He put on another condom. Before he entered me, he reared back, putting both hands on my ass cheeks, spread them apart, and said, “By the way, I like this view.”
Then, he pushed that steel-shafted penis of his firmly and directly into my pussy. Even though I had been a virgin until less than twelve hours ago, this felt so natural, and so right. As I was getting close to orgasm, he said, “Livvy, would you like to try something?”
“Anything, Ken.”
“You may not like it.”
“We’ll see. I’m pretty sure I’ll like anything you want to do.”
He pulled out of me, then pressed his penis against my anus. That felt quite nice. He was far from done. Gently insisting with continuing pressure, soon the tip of that big thing popped into my ass. I felt terribly stretched, and a touch of a pinching pain, but I was loving it.
“Alright?” he asked.
“Fucking, amazingly, alright!” I answered.
He was gentle and slow, but in time, his penis was stuck all the way into my rectum, and I could feel his balls slapping against my pussy. I orgasmed. Then I orgasmed again. I was so into it that I couldn’t tell, but he had orgasmed also.
We collapsed in a heap on the bed. Unfortunately, he had to get to the studio, so quickly dressing, he drove me back to my apartment, and went to work.
Ken called again early that evening. “Can you play tomorrow?”
“I’d like to, but I have to work.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that. What’s the number at Starbucks?”
“You’re not going to get me fired, are you?” I laughed nervously.
“Hell no.”
Later that morning, after we showered and he had breakfast sent up, I gave him the number and he called, reaching my boss.
“Hello, this is Kendrick Williams. Yes, really. One of your employees, Olivia Sanders would like to take the day off. Can that be arranged? OK, thank you very much.”
That morning, he picked me up in his van and drove out to Malibu, pulling through an automatic gate to a very large house. I thought he probably had a nice house, but not quite on the scale of this place. Leaving the van in the circular driveway, we walked in. The front room could have been a ballroom. It was that big. A real, live butler came and took Ken’s hat and sunglasses. I was expecting the butler to have an English accent, but he sounded more like he was from Tennessee. We walked through the house to a smaller room full of musical equipment. As we entered, a beautiful, brunette woman stopped playing an electric guitar. I recognized her as Melanie Jacobsen, famous in her own right.
‘I figured something like this would happen,’ I was thinking. My bubble had burst, just when I was beginning to believe that there could really be something between Ken and I.
“Livvy,” he said, “Meet my sister, Melanie. Melanie, this is my new girlfriend, Olivia Sanders,”
With a spinning mind, I slowly took in two major facts. First, whew! His sister. I had no idea the two of them were related. I guess I didn’t read the gossip magazines enough. But what was it he called me, his ‘girlfriend?’ My mind went from extremely disappointed to extremely elated so fast my thinking processes broke down entirely.
When I regained my sanity, I heard Melanie say, “She’s the one? Livvy, you’re beautiful!”
It was nice of her to say so.
“Thank you, but what did you mean ‘She’s the one?'”
“Oh, sorry. Ken has been looking for months. He told me he wanted a sincere woman, one he can spend the rest of his life with. Because, although the media has him made out to be an irresponsible playboy, that’s not my brother at all. He told me he set out to find the perfect woman, and that he thought he might try some unconventional approaches, because for him, in his position, his fame and all, the usual approaches were not working. Then, a month ago, after an audition of some sort, he said he found her, and that has turned out to be you. Congratulations to you both!”
Ken saw my expression change as understanding flooded my mind. He pulled me close and kissed me, then simply said, “You’re the one.”
Of course it didn’t take long for the paparazzi to find out about me. Strangely, it wasn’t like in the movies, where all the photographers are constantly annoying. Well, maybe they can be sometimes, but I enjoyed the press. Maybe I am a bit of an exhibitionist.
We were married in January. We had to wait until Ken finished working on the movie, then had to have a quick honeymoon at Richard Branson’s recently rebuilt island, before Ken started the next movie.
One time, just for fun, Ken and I took a drive down to Black’s Beach, a famous nude beach north of San Diego, purposely enticing the paparazzi to follow us. We had six cars on our tail the whole way down I-5.
When we got there, we walked down the trail, with all the ridiculous photographers wilting in the heat in their bulky clothing carrying their photo gear. We walked out onto the sand, and took off all our clothes.
Ken figured out there’d be no unauthorized nude shots or videos of us circulating on the Internet causing all sorts of trouble and gossip. No, our shots would be authorized! Let the world know, Kendrick Williams and Olivia Sanders are in love! I liked his plan. We kissed and hugged right there on a blanket on the beach. We posed for the photographers. Ken, even proudly showed his erection in some of the photos. The press guys went nuts, thinking they had won the lottery. Nude shots of Kendrick and Olivia, oh, they had the scoop!
The only problem is we saturated the market. After a couple of months, the photographers realized that Ken and I aren’t the type to do scandalous things. All we do is get nude a lot, and fuck. They got tired of us, and mostly left us alone. Sure, there’s still the odd photographer outside the gate, or meeting us at airports and so on. Then, there are always a hundred fans gathered any place they think we’ll show up. But we enjoy their attention.
Ken has also said on more than one occasion that it is important to use his status as an example for good. He hates these celebrities who smoke cigarettes, get drunk, get in trouble with the law, threaten each other with guns, and all that. He feels he can use his position to promote good living. I’m so proud of him!
Now that I was married to a huge star, I still hoped to be an actress. Obviously, we didn’t need the money, but I wanted to enjoy performing, just like my man. But, it was important to me to make it on my own merits.
When Ken doesn’t want to be recognized, he’ll dress down, wear a big hat, and sunglasses. I go a step further, wearing a gray wig and make up that makes me look much older. I used to try out for roles dressed like that. I’d give them my pseudonym, Alice Bennett.
I won a couple of small parts that way, which led to bigger parts, some even involving nudity. I must indeed be a bit of an exhibitionist, because I particularly enjoy nude scenes.
Ken is alright with me playing these parts with other men. He knows I’ll always be faithful. Faithful to us, means something different. If I end up with another man’s dick in me, it’s just part of doing business as an actress. I’m one hundred percent faithful to Ken, as he is to me, with our hearts.
Some of the scenes have been fuck scenes. You’d be surprised how often these things are filmed without the man getting hard. We fake the fucking thing. But occasionally, we do it for real. The public can’t tell the difference.
I have been in movies with my husband. Those fuck scenes are the best. He’s always hard for me, and we always fuck for real. Sometimes, to suit the producers, we have to use a condom. We don’t want the public to get the wrong idea.
I wasn’t a household name for a while, but I made it in Hollywood, on my own merit. In time, the public caught on to Alice Bennett, and so I became OK with taking parts just because I was Ken’s wife. Now, I am a household name, as I’m sure you know.
The one thing it took me years to get used to was that he loved me, although I never thwarted his efforts to prove it. I never tested him – in case it was genuine. I wasn’t going to mess up a good thing. The day he said “You’re the one,” he meant it!
