I push her against the wall and move, the kind of deep, rolling movements that cameras don’t capture well, but goddammit my body can feel perfectly, and hers too, judging by the amount of noise my hand is blocking. I can feel my tip tracing circles and lines and angles in the deepest parts of her, can feel how tightly she’s stretched around me, and every time I move in her, she moans against my palm.
I shift, ever so slightly, moving my pelvis against hers so that my lower abs knead her clit as I grind into her. The effect is instantaneous—her muffled moans rise in pitch and frequency and her thighs clench tight around my waist.
“Are you going to come, Cass?” I whisper in her ear.
She nods.
“Because...I don’t think I can make it through you coming,” I confess. “If you come, then I’m going to come so fast…” Saying it aloud helps me think, helps me figure out what to do. I can’t come inside of her. This is already so outside of the bounds of pornography film restrictions and what I consider personally okay, and I assume she’s on birth control, but what if she’s not? That would be an asshole assumption to make, when I have just as much power to exercise caution as she does.
On the other hand, now that I’ve felt her pussy, I’m hungry to make it come, eager to feel it squeeze and flutter around me. And the idea of holding her so close as I pump my own way to climax...appealing isn’t nearly a strong enough word.
More like necessary.
Luckily for us both, I’m a good problem-solver.
I lift my hand from Devi’s mouth, and then I back away from the wall and maneuver us so that we separate and I can set her on her feet. It’s the third time I’ve denied her an orgasm in the space of twenty minutes, and her wild eyes and stunned pout tell me all I need to know.
“Don’t move,” I tell her, and then I reach for the slender wallet in my back pocket. I locate a condom and pull it out, dropping my wallet to the floor, where it lands with a flat-sounding smack. My patience is so ragged-thin that my hand is shaking as I raise the wrapper to my teeth to tear it open. Devi’s feral eyes are on me the entire time, as I roll the condom down my dick, which is so hard now that the crown is a swollen, angry maroon color. I give it a few hard pumps as she watches, and I feel the last of my control evanesce away, disintegrate into nothing.
“Turn to the wall, like before,” I say. My words are short, staccato rasps, and I hope she forgives me for being brusque, because I can’t be anything else right now. Not with that wet pussy within reach. Not knowing that I can fuck her without any worry or reserve.
The minute she turns and spreads her legs, I’m behind her and it only takes half a second for my sheathed cock to find what it needs. I slam in, letting out a low hiss at the same time she lets out a guttural groan, and I think I hear someone ask, “Did you hear that?”
But there’s not stopping now. I wrap her long coffee-colored hair around my hand and yank her head back to me. “If you want to come, you have to be quiet. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “Oh Logan, I’m so close, make me come, make me come.”
I use my other hand to find her clit and start rubbing her there. I’m pounding into her hard now, her ass cheeks shaking, the wet, sweet sounds of her pussy getting loud and distinct against the backdrop of music and conversation.
I keep a hold of her hair, forcing to arch her back and keeping that ass at such a delicious angle to me, and I rub her clit harder and faster, until I can feel every muscle in her body tense up, her legs and her shoulders and her stomach, all of her tightening and tightening like a guitar string. And I’m so close now too, so close to exploding inside this girl I’ve craved for so long, and I feel the years of tension, the years of secretly jacking off to Devi when Raven was asleep, twisting at the base of my spine.
“Your pussy is so good,” I tell her in a low voice. “I’m going to come so hard for you, going to come so fucking hard…”
“Logan,” she gasps. “Oh, fuck, Logan, that’s it, that’s it, oh my God—”
I feel her crescendo, the split second before all the tension unravels, and then she’s unspooling around me, clenching and releasing and clenching again, and I look down at where my cock disappears in and out of her, and I remember what she felt like raw and think of how good it would feel to come inside her without a condom, how satisfying it would be to see my cum dripping out of her, and then my balls draw up tight and then I’m coming so fucking hard that my vision goes fuzzy and my hearing fades out and there is only the tight heat of her cunt and the surges of roaring pleasure and the mindless drive to rut as hard and as long as I can.
My cock convulses, and I’m grunting, still fucking my way through the orgasm, and I feel her peak again, her hands flying out to grab at the brick ledge as she tries to keep on her feet, but her knees are buckling and she’s going to collapse. I wrap an arm around her stomach, holding her upright as she rides out the tremors, as I finish releasing my pent-up lust inside her, and we gradually come down together, panting and sweaty and I realize I’m not sure how loud all that just was.
I don’t care. So worth it.
Once I’m certain she can stand on her own, I circle the bottom of the condom with my fingers and slowly pull out of her pussy. Everything is wet—her, the condom, me on the inside of the condom—and this is one of the moments I usually love least in a scene, pulling out with all my cum still contained. I know, it’s probably domineering and wrong of me, but there’s something so gratifying on this deep, primal level about seeing my cum in a woman’s pussy or on her tits or on her ass. The condom makes things safe, and I respect that, but at the same time, it makes things sterile, and Devi Dare is the last woman on earth I want to be sterile with.
But, despite all that, despite the sterility, as I pull out, I mostly only feel this intense gratitude and wonder. I got to be inside Devi, I got to feel her come on my cock, I got to touch and experience her in the most intimate way possible, and it’s like fucking her has taken the torch I carry for Devi and fanned it into a fucking wildfire.
It’s so strong that I’m not even going soft right now. I could put on a fresh condom and go again...and probably again a few times after that.
I’m still staring down at my dick and Devi is still braced against the wall catching her breath as the footsteps approach, and there’s no time, no time at all, and then a tiny white-haired woman—bespectacled and lost-looking—rounds the corner with her quad cane. We freeze and she keeps walking, mumbling something to herself as she does, and then all of a sudden, she sees us, her head snapping up and her eyes going wide like dollar coins.
“Um,” I say, my hand still around my cum-covered dick and my jeans around my ankles. “Howdy.”
“Howdy,” Devi parrots, still bent over with her dress hiked over her ass.
For a few seconds that seem to stretch into infinity, the old lady blinks at us, too stunned to speak. And then she makes a hasty retreat, shuffling backwards around the canvases until she’s out of sight.
Devi explodes into snorts and giggles, and I start panic-laughing as I frantically tie off the condom and try to pull up my pants and grab all my stuff at the same time. My pants are zipped but not buttoned and my bag slung over my shoulder as I take Devi’s hand and pull her towards the fire exit door, where we emerge into the California night wheezing with the giddy laughter of people who’ve been caught having raunchy public sex by a tiny old grandma.
And then I drop everything to the ground and pin Devi into the fiercest, longest kiss I’ve ever given, wishing she could know with every trace of my tongue and every brush of my lips how much I’ve fallen in love with her.
* * *
The old lady must have kept our secret, because when we presented ourselves to the gallery owner after closing after all the other patrons had left, she didn’t say a word of censure or reproach to us. And so we were able to have the night I planned—some wine and snacks I packed, and a campout on the gallery floor, the camera trained on
us from a perch at the foot of the sleeping bag.
This is possibly the silliest thing I’ll ever admit to, but right now, the mere fact that Devi and I are sharing a sleeping bag makes me feel floaty. A side effect of being a porn star is that I don’t have very many firsts to share with women. I hardly have any firsts, actually. But I’ve never spent the night with anyone in a place other than my house. I know, that’s insane, but it’s true. Raven and I were always so busy with work that there was never a chance of our travel schedules matching up...so no hotels. And because I’m so busy, she (or the girlfriend I had before her, Tessalie), always came to my house after a day’s work. I have fucked women in every imaginable space, public and private, but when it comes to actual, honest-to-God sleeping, when it comes to snuggling and spooning and talking about whatever random stuff floats to mind, it’s only ever been in my bed. The novelty of sharing this first with Devi is better than a whole bottle of eighteen-year-old scotch.
“You don’t seem like the kind of person to have a two-person sleeping bag,” Devi points out dreamily as we lie on our backs and look at the strings of fake stars above us. “Do you camp a lot?”
“I’ve only been camping once with a church group and I hated it. Showers are very important to me.”
She gives a rueful sigh. “I think I’ve been camping more times than I can count.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. No, my parents got this for me a couple Christmases ago because they never know what to buy. What do you get the man who has everything—or at least gets to fuck everything? And the answer is usually the kinds of gift you see in catalogs on the airplane.”
Devi rolls over onto her elbow, her face suddenly serious. “Do you think that you want to be the man who fucks everything forever?”
I turn my head to look at her. “You mean, like do I ever see myself quitting porn?”
“Yeah.”
I think for a moment. “Maybe?” I finally say, after my thoughts refuse to order themselves out of the incomprehensible jumble they are right now. “Like, I know logically that the job depends on my body, and my body only has a lifespan of being nice to look at for another decade or so, unless by some magic, I age like Robert Downey Jr. or something. I guess I just keep thinking that I’ll have my shit figured out by then, and I’ll know what to do when the time comes to step away.”
“If you could do anything, what would it be?”
Her brow is adorably furrowed right now, as if the answer to her question is the most important thing she’ll ever hear. I reach up with my thumb and smooth it out, bringing a smile to her lips. “I’d make movies. Not just sexy movies, but all kinds of movies. But that’s not really the kind of thing I can just jump into, and I don’t know enough about it even if I wanted to jump in anyway.”
“You could go to film school.”
“That used to be the plan.” I roll up on my elbow too so I can look at her better. “Hey, Cass?”
“Yes?”
“Tonight—did it feel real? With the camera?” As I ask, I glance over to the camera trained on us now, recording in silence.
Even in the dim light, I can see her cheeks color. “Yes, Logan,” she says quietly. “It felt real.”
“Does it feel real now?”
A pause. Then: “Yes.”
I trace the curve of her shoulder, my fingers dancing over her skin to find the slope of her rib cage, and my hand settles in making circles in the dip of her waist. “I want things to be real between us all of the time,” I say, and I didn’t realize how nervous I would be saying this until I’m saying it now. “I know we’ve admitted that we like each other in a physical sense. That we’re attracted to each other and maybe in more than a friendly way. But it’s even more than that for me.”
I feel her tense up underneath my hand, and I have a brief debate—backpedal or continue? But I have to continue. If she decides that my feelings make her too uncomfortable to go on with Star-Crossed, then I have to accept that. But I don’t think I can hide how I really feel from her any longer.
But to make myself more comfortable, I revert to what I know best—sex. My hand skims around her waist to the curve of her ass, and then I find her pussy warm and soft between her legs. She moans as I start playing with her.
“I like you, Devi. Not just in the porno way, but in the mushy hearts and flowers kind of way. I like being with you and hearing you talk and just watching you exist. I know that makes me a stalker, but...well, I guess I don’t really have an excuse for that. Almost every night after our scene, when Raven was asleep, I’d go to my office and beat off to your porn.”
“Jesus, Logan,” she murmurs.
“Is that a good Jesus or a bad Jesus?”
“So good,” she mumbles, rolling onto her stomach and spreading her legs so that I have better access to her pussy. “Rub me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I comply with her request and search out her clit, kneading it gently in case she’s sore. “So I know I’m being manipulative by fingering you while we have this discussion, but I guess I want to know if I’m alone in this. If you like me in the mushy way too.”
I can hear her smile in her words even though I can’t see her face. “I like you in the mushy way too. A lot. You’re definitely not alone.”
The wave of sweet relief hits me so hard that I’m surprised to find that my eyelids are burning a little. I clear my throat to cover it up. “Really?”
“Really.” She turns her head to look at me. “I masturbated to you almost every night too, you know. And the sex tonight was so good. You make me feel—I don’t even have words for it. Reckless. Alive. Ecstatic. I was so caught up in you that I let you fuck me without a condom.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I would fucking never do that in my right mind.”
By now I should be used to the fact that Devi doesn’t make emotional leaps without a healthy dose of logical caution, that there will always be a gap between my impetuous declarations and her admitting that she feels the same way. But I’m not used to it yet, I guess, because the relief and the joy and giddy excitement are still thrumming through me with tornadic force. I drop my head to her shoulder blade, breathing in her cinnamon smell. “I want to make you out of your mind all the time,” I say against her skin. “Like the way you make me.”
“I’d say you’re off to a good start.” She squirms against my hand, and when I tease her folds open, I find that she’s completely soaked.
I peer around to see her eyes. “Does this mean I can—” I search for the right words. “—try to be your boyfriend?”
“Try?” Her voice and expression are unreadable as she repeats the key word to the request, and shame bolts through me. I want to offer her so much more than try, I want to be, but at the same time, this is Devi. Perfection embodied. My goddess and queen of the night, and what if I’m not able to be good enough for her?
What if, like Tanner suggested, she’s not okay with me continuing with my porn career?
Try is safest for now, even though it’s the least of I want to give her. I’m the older, (theoretically) more mature party in this, and I’ve also recently traveled through the conflagration of a ruined relationship. I deserve better, Devi certainly deserves better, and that means treading thoughtfully for now.
“Yes,” I say carefully. “I want to try a boyfriend-girlfriend thing with you.”
I see her mind running through my words, weighing them and judging them, and then the biggest, most bashful smile spreads across her face. “Yes, Logan. Let’s try to have a boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”
“Oh, thank God,” I say, and I should tell her I love her now, I want to, but then I think of my logical girl with her cautious eyes. It’s fascinating to me how she can seem so carefree, so sunny, but at the same time, she’s got a mind that ticks through thoughts and decisions like a Swiss watch. I can’t spring the love thing on her now without making her watch mechanisms work overtime, so instead, I say, “I’ve got to fuck you again, you know that rig
ht?”
Her body makes a sinuous arch as she stretches off the sleeping bag to find my wallet. She finds a condom, and I raise up on my knees, a big dopey grin on my face. My thoughts run something like this: sex is happening, yay! With my new sort-of girlfriend, yay! Sex sex sex!
She tears the wrapper open with her teeth, expertly pinches the tip and rolls it down my thick erection. When she’s done, she gives my cock a little teasing squeeze and looks up at my face.
“You look so happy,” she says shyly.
“Because I get to fuck my sort-of girlfriend right now.”
Spontaneously, she raises up and gives me a deep, searing kiss. I kiss her back until she’s panting and squirming against me.
“On your knees and smile for the camera,” I say.
13
The number one question I get when people find out I do girl-girl porn is, “So you’re a lesbian?”
The short answer is, “I’m bi.”
The long answer is, “All women are bi.”
The reason that answer is long is because there’s usually a discussion that has to take place after someone makes a comment like that. But here’s the thing—science pretty much proves it.
Now, no reason to get your panties in a wad about this. I’m not trying to start an argument; I just want to be able to explain how I got into this line of work, and part of that explanation requires understanding the basics of human biology, which, surprisingly, many people don’t.
Lesson time—woman can identify one hundred percent heterosexual, live a completely straight lifestyle, and still be aroused by another woman. It’s a fact. By arousal I mean pupils dilate, pulse quickens, blood flow increases to the genitals. The female might not even recognize that these physical changes are happening, and I’m not talking about these things occurring when she’s kissed or caressed—I’m talking about when women are shown pictures of other attractive women, their bodies react.
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