I am Ricky.
His legs have become my legs. His arms, my arms. His hands, my hands. His cock, my cock.
For a little over eleven minutes, I am him. I see with his eyes and I feel with his flesh.
These eleven minutes, Ricky’s eleven minutes, morph into mine.
His past is my present.
His brief—to swim a few lengths in the pool; perch on the edge of the water; slowly become erect; entertain, enjoy, edge, ejaculate—has become my brief.
“You think it’s easy, don’t you?” I hear my Ricky-self saying to the viewer. “To perform to order. To follow those simple instructions from the producer and deliver the goods. While smiling and connecting with the viewer, and, of course, delivering a glorious shower of come to finish.
“It’s tougher than you think,” I continue to my imaginary online audience, all waiting with lube, vibrators and everything else to hand as they prepare to bring themselves to their own, personal climaxes. “It’s easy to do it at home, on your own, with your favourite performers doing your favourite, hot things to each other. You can choose your time, your mood, your location. You can pause at the best bits. Rewind, watch it again. And it’s easy to come when they come. That’s the aim of a good wank, isn’t it? You shoot your spunk, squirt your pussy juices, just when he does it in the film or when he pushes one of those lovely women he pleasures over the edge.
“But, guys, he shoots into the pussy, mouth, butt, belly, breasts of some stunning women, or two. You shoot into a tissue.”
“You try doing it right now, perfectly, but for real. That takes a lot of practice, a lot of self-knowledge, and a fair bit of spunk.”
I, Ricky, finish my soliloquy to my distant voyeurs. Return to the reality of being on the set of an adult film. It’s midmorning and everyone in the team is here, ready and waiting for me. I join them around a table, pull up a seat and share their croissants and coffee. And then we chat about what we all did last night. Naturally, we were all out together—the crew, director and the other models as we record several films over a couple of days. We dined at a local bistro and downed a few too many bottles of red.
Now we are checking to see how we are feeling this morning. Knowing that I was on early, I held back a tad on the wine. You shouldn’t be surprised. I am very professional.
The conversation dries up and I go through the brief with the director one more time. We’ve discussed it over several texts a week or two ago when the booking was finalised, so I know what is expected of me. But I’m keen to get it right and put on a top-notch performance so I check on the key things she wants from the scene.
We discuss ideas about what I should do, when, how. The edging is something I need to take time over. That could be tricky, going a touch too far too soon could lead to a premature end to filming.
There are two things we guys have to watch when it comes to performing on film. The first, obvious one is coming too early. The other is the opposite—not coming at all. And all readily avoided if the chemistry is right, the setting is right and you are up for it.
I am certainly up for it right now, and also for later as I have a second shoot this afternoon with a girl I have had my eye on and who I was really keen to be partnered within an erotic movie. I’ve heard she’s one hell of a fuck.
I am summoned to sit in front of a mirror and have a few touches of make-up applied. It’s not just the girls who get this treatment. Though they spend ages being preened and prepared, I’m usually done in a minute or two. The make-up artist has a cheeky smile. I love her. She tells me of models she has worked with, the fantasies she has helped create. She says that she wishes she had the guts to go in front of the camera herself, only she’d die if her seventy-year-old mother ever found out about it.
She’s hot and has a great presence; her eyes are just sensational. I tell her she should have a go, but she replies that she’ll have to leave the fun to the likes of me. As she finishes her work on my face, she admits that she so enjoys looking at the final version on her own, at home, with her faithful, battery-powered lover. She’s a fan. I adore her even more for it.
I ask her if she could go and do a film, what genre and setting would she choose. She replies quickly that she would want a burlesque setting. She likes corsets, stockings, heels and all the little details like nipple pasties. As for the genre, an easy choice, too—MMF. She would like to suck cock while being fucked. And there was always the option of a DP.
We were using abbreviations as if we were in some business meeting. I asked if she’d ever enjoyed a DP. She said she had, twice, but the conversation stops as I am being called to the set.
Then there are words of encouragement from those behind the camera as I check my trunks, give my cock a little tug—a little stretch before he has to play his part. I could be an athlete, stretching my muscles before a race. The crew’s voices give me the confidence to step forward and take my position on the starting line: “Go for it, Ricky.”
Or perhaps I could be taking to the stage: “You’ll be magnificent, you always are.”
Or I could even be dining at a restaurant: “Enjoy.”
I see the makeup artist giving me a knowing, friendly smile. I give her a nod in return. This one’s for her.
And so I, Ricky, am now in front of the camera and I am going for it. I am going to be magnificent. I am going to enjoy. Fucking enjoy.
All this before I—the real me—press PLAY.
Ricky, once more me, starts by swimming a few lengths exactly as per the brief.
He… I climb out and walk, wet, to the side of the pool and dab off drips with a towel. I sit by the side of the water and let my hand slip under my trunks. I am already hardening. That thought of the make-up artist being fucked by two men has helped trigger a deliciously naughty and extremely helpful fantasy.
And now I am moving between that fantasy and past realities. Moments from my films past come back to me.
That moment with Cherry when I was sitting on that window ledge in a towel and she walked up in just a thong and white ankle socks. Cherry can kiss. And she kissed me deep and she kissed me long. For me, the moment is when she turns around and presses that tight butt of hers onto my cock and slowly eases me into her pussy. I can feel her tight, wet warmth now, as I start to stroke my hard cock. My hardness strengthens as I remember that delicious moan as I penetrated fully into her cunt.
Then there and was Alyssa with another window fuck. Her dark eyes kept their focus on mine as she took my cock into her mouth. The intensity of that gaze and her total focus on my helmet leads to a throb in my cock. I am just sensing my ultimate destination in this poolside wank.
Fast forward to the last moments of the film, where Alyssa’s brilliance at giving blow jobs blew me away. She pumped me slow but firmly, keeping to that regular rhythm that women tend to like when I am going down on them, but—this is the special bit—it was the way her tongue kept flicking my frenulum that brought me to a delightful orgasm. I can see, now, my spunk oozing on to her tongue and the way she continued to milk me afterwards was sublime.
I am moving ever closer to my climax for this film.
Skip again this time back to Cherry and that gate by the olive grove. Now I like girls when they look hot. It might be a short skirt, or stockings and a lacy basque, or thigh boots, a leather corset and all the accessories of a dominatrix. And yet, sometimes they can be even hotter when they just look beautiful. Cherry looked beyond beautiful with her hair so neatly tied up in plaits and that simple off the shoulder summer dress. This moment was when I was sitting, back against the gate, and she was squatting over me, lowering herself up and down my shaft. She was in full control of each stroke, I just had to sit back and enjoy it. She would clench me tight when she was at her lowest point when my cock was fully engorged and her pussy lips were pressing against the base of my shaft. And as well as that sumptuous pussy, that arse of hers—again—was right up against me. Add those kisses of hers and… no, no, not yet, let’s hold those kisses for later. Dwelling on them now would be too much for my cock.
I briefly look up and see the eager smiles on the faces of the crew. I can sense that I am giving them what they want. And I am enjoying this wank greatly.
As I begin to move into the home straight, I see that Lola is taking a seat just offset. If you don’t know her, let me describe her to you. She is a beautiful girl-next-door type blonde and I’ve heard that she is one of the best, one of the nicest, one of the most fun to work with. I’m already looking forward to that afternoon fuck with her, once I have recovered from this poolside film. There’s even some bubbly in the shooting plan.
Now, while Cherry looked so hot, because she looked so, well, pure in that film in the olive grove, Lola looks hot because she is dressed for the occasion: little black dress, very short, with glitter all over it. Vertiginous court shoes. Loose, flowing curls. She smiles at me as I hone in on my final fantasy.
Lola and Cherry have worked together and created some true erotic magic in an English garden of all places. They are a great couple and their blonde looks complement each other perfectly. The moment in this film, the last moment I am going to focus on, is shortly after Lola has eased a butt plug into Cherry and Cherry has been fucking Lola with a double-ended dildo. The scenes I am going to come to by the pool are already fixed in my mind: it’s when Cherry mounts Lola and eases the other end of the dildo into her own cunt. Butt plug already in place. Cherry is double penetrated by both toys. Then the dildo slips out and both girls laugh. It’s a genuine, shared laugh, of sexual fun.
My fantasy suddenly, unexpectedly switches back to the make up artist’s comments about her own reminiscences of double penetration. I am in her arse. Another is in her cunt. She moans as we both fuck her.
And as I pump her, I pump my own cock harder and faster. My orgasm hits. I can feel my come coursing up the length of my shaft and I let out a gasp as it hits the air.
My rhythm matches Ricky’s. And I come as Ricky comes. Only there is no camera crew and no sight of Lola in a black cocktail dress egging me across the line.
I have fucked Cherry against that wooden gate. I felt her butt and her warm, welcoming pussy. I have had Alyssa’s tongue work its magic on my frenulum. Moreover, I have enjoyed Cherry grind down on my cock when I was sitting on that window ledge overlooking those ancient rooftops.
But I am not Ricky. Not any more.
With my own orgasm over, and as the life melts out of my cock, I retreat into my own world. I close my laptop. No wanks by a pool set on the side of a Mediterranean retreat. No sex up against a window overlooking an ancient Eastern European capital with Cherry. No pumping the delicious Alyssa from behind. No outside sex with Lola. No delicious butts to stroke and pussies to probe. For me, the reality is just vanilla sex. Always the same. Very, very vanilla. It relieves an urge but never ignites.
Yet for eleven minutes and twenty-five glorious seconds, I was Ricky. I performed as he performed. My hands were his hands, my cock was his cock. And I became truly and wondrously sexually alive.
For those interested in reliving Ricky’s moments, take a look at: What a View where he stars alongside Cherry Kiss and also Zest for Life where they also appear together; City Break where he performs with Alyssa Reece; Summer Ball which features Ricky and Lola Myluv. Finally do take a peek at English Garden where Lola and Cherry star.
Read all about the wonderful author: PJA Woode
Clever concept Woody and very well written, a great patchwork of hot visions and sexy sensations.