Back in 1974 I worked my way through college by hammering nails. I wasn’t very good at it but I had an uncle who was a master carpenter and brought me along as an assistant. I was basically his pack horse, lugging gear and holding planks as he sawed. Every once in awhile he let me do some easy tasks, like hammering two boards together but he considered himself an artist and wanted to do all the real work himself. As a matter of fact, he was an artist and that’s why he was called in to build some books shelves for this big mansion in Holmby Hills.
We were used to big jobs in big mansions so the size didn’t impress us and we often met up with movie stars when we showed up at places around town but on this job there weren’t a lot of people around, sill it was clear that this place was going to be special. A lot of office space was being constructed and already part of the mansion was being used as a photo studio. It was hard to miss the bevy of beautiful girls going in and out all day long.
I could notice the girls all I wanted but I wasn’t going to meet any of them; my uncle was a stickler for focusing on the task at hand and for putting in a full days work. Still it was nice to watch the sweet asses and fine racks jiggle by in the distance. Every once in awhile a pretty girl would glance my way and smile before she’d disappear behind a door. Little did I know at the time that were stripping down and posing nude.
One day, when we were putting the finishing touches on our work somebody who worked in the mansion office came by and gave my uncle a couple of tickets. “It’s just a little mixer, a thank you for all the contractors and workers,” the older woman explained. “Mr. Hefner will still be in Chicago but we want to test out the projection gear and the girls need some company.” My ears perked up when I heard the word ‘girls’ but then I saw my uncle scowling at the tickets; he was annoyed by the interruption and wanted to get back to work. The woman pressed on though, glancing at me as she spoke. “You actually might get to meet a few playmates,” she said with a smile.
Then she was gone and my uncle, with a gruff harrumph, tossed the tickets on table and picked up a rag to smooth out the finish on the shelves; I was expected to do the same so I did. But those two tickets were burning a hole in the back of my head. I finally put together the stream of young girls and the lady’s comments about lonely playmates.
Time went by like molasses but at last we were finished and packed up the gear in silence. I knew my uncle well enough to know that I’d better not mention the tickets and I’d better leave them where they sat. And they sat there still as I hoisted our gear onto my shoulders and headed out to our truck.
We loaded the gear in silence and he jumped down off the truck bed, brushed saw dust off his jeans and spoke for the first time all day. “If you want to go to that party you better go get those tickets.”
I left a cloud of dust like in a cartoon, in and out of the mansion in seconds. I handed him his ticket but the way he shoved it in his pocket with distain I knew I’d be going to the party alone.
I spent the afternoon and early evening indulging in fantasies of the Playboy lifestyle but the party was pretty tame, a keg of beer and a bunch of XXX films on giant screen that pulled down out of the ceiling. Turns out the party really was just all the painters and plumbers and carpenters who’d been working on the place. Frankly, I was bored so I stepped outside for some herbal refreshment.
Because the owner wasn’t living there full time yet and because most of the staff went home at the end of the day, the grounds of the mansion were dead, so I was surprised when I heard voices in the distance coming toward the house. I crept around the corner to investigate from the cover of thick shrubs, only to discover that it was the some of the girls sneaking up from the photo studio side of the mansion.
Dressed very casually in scant shorts, skirts, and tops, they were creeping along the tree line towards the house. What the hell were they up to, anyway?
I was a little curious about what the girls would think when they saw the graphic film play inside, but I decided to just let the situation play itself out. After all, this party needed some excitement.
I finished the joint and slipped back into the house, got another beer, and just stood silently at the back of the room in the dark waiting for the models while the gal on screen rode a foot-long cock.
In a couple of minutes, the girls burst in like gangbusters yelling and screaming with bright flashlights. "You're busted!!! Where are the girls?" The guys froze and said nothing, and the girls' eyes immediately became glued to the screen.
Now, mind you, this was not tasteful, erotic footage. No, this was deep into raunchy, and poorly produced, at that. You know, where the overdubbed audio moaning is out of sync with lip movements, the same clip is repeated over and over, and you can see the camera's reflection in mirrors and windows. I find such films humorous more than anything else.
The girls had apparently never seen pornographic movies before, and they seemed at once shocked and enthralled.
The guys, amused by the girls’ shock, made room for them and handed out beers. One girl in particular caught my eye and I pulled her towards the back of the room and sat her down in a folding metal chair beside me and the keg.
Pamela Zinszer was the best-looking gal in this bunch of young cuties, and also, I thought, the biggest tease.
She had dark, thick brown hair, shoulder length and curled up at the ends, big brown eyes over a little pixie nose, a very wide, full-lipped smile with perfect white teeth. Her darkly tanned skin was flawless; this lucky gal had probably never had a single blemish. Her face and hairstyle reminded me of Marilyn. Like in Monroe.
As for her figure, it would be hard to improve on. "Voluptuously athletic" is the best I can come up with. Standing around 5'3" and weighing about 110 lbs., she had I'd say a 36 inch bust, supple arms, and a very narrow waist that flared out to a relatively large, but shapely hips in perfect proportion to her big breasts and round bottom supported by smooth, muscular legs. She was sexy and cuddly and smelled sweet as flowers!!!
The clothes she was wearing that night, what little of them there were, certainly emphasized her figure. Her beautifully smooth and tanned back was interrupted only by the white tie of the halter style top. In front, its v-neck squeezed her brown breasts together in exquisite cleavage.
Below, the humidity and the tightness of her khaki poplin short-shorts combined so that, if you looked very closely, you could actually make out the outline of her outer labia, and when she bent over, you could see a pair of crescent-shaped strips of white bottom flesh peek out beyond the edge of her tan line.
White leather shoes and ankle socks covered her little feet. She looked sweet and fresh, only eighteen or so. Like I said, cute and cuddly!
The fact is, when I had spent the afternoon dreaming of playmates it was her centerfold that I had in mind. Not hard to do since it had hanging on my wall for weeks already.
We made some small talk; there was something delightfully ditsy about her, the way she looked at me with those big brown eyes and spoke in a high pitched sing song voice. She was so guileless yet so sensuous. She couldn’t help but keep returning to screen to check out the porno but she certainly wanted to be nice to me too. I played it cool and handed her a drink.
As she gulped the cold beer, her eyes were fixated on the screen. The furry, barrel-chested big dick for hire was now pounding the woman doggy-style as her boobs wobbled wildly, while another woman's dubbed voice moaned. Pamela asked question after question about the film:
Pamela--Are they really doing all that?
Me--Yes, but they are just actors. It's no more "real" than any other movie.
Pamela--Looks really real to me.
Me--They are really having sex, but they are probably faking that it's pleasurable.
Pamela--It sure would be pleasurable to me, so why would a person need to fake what feels good?
Me--They're paid to do what the director tells them to. It's just another acting job to them.
(The actress kneeled on the edge of the couch and began to give the standing actor a BJ, then wrapped her boobs around his shaft as she continued to suck the end of his dick.)
Pamela--That's neat. I've never done that before.
Me--You mean a blow-job or a titty-fuck?
(Pamela furrowed her brow and looked cute although she intended to look stern.)
Pamela—Don’t be naughty.
Me—OK, oral sex or sex with a woman’s breasts.
Pamela--Doing both at the same time.
Me—You really should try it.
Pamela--Have you done that before?
Me—No. My breasts are too small.
Pamela—No, silly! I mean have you had a girl do that to you?
Me--Oh, yes, it feels great.
(This conversation was getting more interesting by the minute.)
Pamela—The girl is pretty and has a great body, but that guy is fat, hairy, and ugly--downright gross! How in the world did he ever get a part in this kind of movie?
Me—Because he has a massive prick and can fuck on command. You see, these films are basically made for men to view while masturbating, and they like to imagine themselves with a huge dick fucking the sexy actress and driving her wild. It's a fantasy thing. What kind of man do you find attractive?
Pamela—I don’t like that kind of talk.
Me—You don’t like talking about sex?
(She shook her luxurious mane of hair and pouted so I repeated my question about what kind of man she’d find attractive.)
Pamela—Well, I like a man who enjoys talking with me, who's funny, and has a nice face with a big, easy smile. Tall, slender, with a tan, and the less body hair, the better. And I prefer them a bit older than me, not too old, though—no granddads!
The girl on the screen let out a howl and Pamela was drawn in, watching the action like a bird watching a cat eat a mouse. I put my hand on her back and slid my bare leg against hers as I refilled my beer. She leaned in towards me—into what psychologists call the "zone of intimacy"—and handed me her glass.
Since I was sitting right next to the keg, I didn't even have to get up to fill it, but as I did so and looked out across the room from there in the back, I could see that the girls were making out with the guys, and all hands seemed to be busy out of my line of sight in the chest and crotch regions.
Distracted, I overfilled the plastic glass, then handed it to Pamela. Pamela squeezed the flimsy container a bit too hard and spilled nearly a third of it right into the "v" of her halter top onto her breasts. Just as this happened, the actor came on the actress' chest.
Pamela and I giggled, and we both looked down at her wet breasts. The cold beer soaking the fabric had not only made what was covered by material visible, but also perked her nipples up. I whipped out my trusty bandana and dabbed at her breasts, accidentally on purpose trapping a nipple, remarkably similar to a grape, between index and middle fingers.
Gazing up at me with open lips, she uttered a barely audible "mmmm" as the next film segment began. I leaned down and French-kissed her, her lips and tongue eagerly reciprocating while I fondled those lovely, "freshly brewed" breasts through the wet top.
The back of the room where we were was the darkest, and, therefore, the most private, part of the room, but still light enough from the screen's reflection to see one's way around. I boldly untied the halter bow on her back; somewhat surprisingly, she immediately untied the neck bow, still kissing me but with eyes wide open watching the porno at the same.
I pulled the wet halter off her chest and kissed my way down her neck to those superb breasts, crossing the dramatic diagonal tan line slashing across them, into the white flesh zone, and nibbled up to Mount Rigid Nipple. Pamela, moaning ever so softly, jutted her chest forward, forcing more of her shapely young breast into my mouth as a signal to suck harder as she ran her fingers vigorously through my hair.
I pivoted out of my chair and straddled across her lap facing her. She pulled my polo shirt off right over my head, and I plunged my tongue into her mouth as she welcomed it with her own moist, swirling tongue. I surmised that Pamela could give great head. I grabbed a mound in each hand and squeezed hard, which she obviously liked. I do like a woman whose breasts you can handle more like a sturdy mug of beer than a delicate glass of champagne.
Then, using both hands, she began to rub my already-erect penis through my shorts. While continuing to French-kiss, I kept up my breast play with one hand and used my other to caress her crotch, warm and damp through the thin shorts.
I looked up to see that another couple were standing about 5 feet away staring at us. Apparently, to them, we were more entertaining than the film! Not that they were looking at us in disgust or anything, but I figured it might make Pamela feel uncomfortable and put the kibosh on our ministrations. The rest of the group in front of us had all paired up, and, half undressed by then, were openly kissing and fondling while watching the XXX film, which actually featured a decent-looking guy in this segment.
"Let's go find a private place in this house," I suggested.
"Oh yes, let's hurry!" she eagerly agreed in her high pitched voice.
Pamela and I had a definite plan of action, so we slung our tops over our shoulders, got fresh beers and headed down the dark hallway.
I'd never been in this house at night before did not know my way around it at all. It was pitch black until we stumbled through a swinging door into what seemed, from the little light coming in from the lamp post outside, to be a large room.
Pamela scratched around on the wall until she found a light switch and flipped it on. The light over the mantle came on and revealed that it was a hunting trophy room, full of all kinds of stuffed wild animals—heads mounted on the walls, skins on the floors, and life-size ones sitting and standing on the floor everywhere.
We made our way to the giant polar bear rug in front of the fireplace, shucked the rest of our clothes--my finger in her pussy, and her hand around my cock--sipped our beers, and just stood there gazing about, taking in this wild space.
Centered over the mantle was a white rhino head. "He's the only guy in here hornier than me," I teased.
"I don’t know, those big cats look like they could pounce any moment now," she observed, referring to the huge male tiger and lion standing on all fours flanking each side of the hearth.
"Meow," I said, just before picking her up and laying her back onto the woolly bear rug and kissing and nibbling every square inch of her delicious young body.
"Oh, you animal, you!" she giggled.
She had perfect skin and the most dramatic tan lines I'd ever seen. The lines on her breasts cut just above her areolas, dark brown on top and lily white below. Were it not for her succulent grape-size nipples, it would appear at a glance that she was wearing a white bikini top, for her tan was so much darker than her natural skin color, and the line so well defined.
She obviously tanned with her back strap undone, as her beautiful, smooth back arched from hip to shoulder with nary a tan line interruption. Simply delightful.
Pamela was not skinny, but she was far from fat. Very fleshy, with compound curves in all the right places—big, round, firm breasts that stayed close together even when she lay flat of her back, a thin waistline, a full round plush butt, and you could see every muscle in her arms and legs when she moved, probably from her dancing lesson. As I said before, "voluptuously athletic" describes her best.
Having kissed and nibbled every bit of her body except her pussy, I spread her legs wide, she lying face up with her head propped on the back of the polar bear's. Oh my Lord! What a gorgeous pussy! Like the lips on her face, her labia were full and red and fleshy, her clit sticking out from its hood and actually a bit up, like a little erection, and the whole thing so wet that there was already a damp spot on the bear's fur.
I pulled her labia apart to look inside, releasing a wave of pussy juice that ran down onto her picture-perfect little pucker hole, then she vigorously pulled me up on top of her. "I wanna do all that stuff we saw in the film, but right now, I just need you inside me," she pleaded. My mouth was watering for her pussy, but I obliged.
I very, very slowly entered her. She wanted to look, too, so she propped herself up on her elbows and watched me gradually go in. About half way, I stopped and looked up across her fine, slim tummy, at the little folds of her belly button, then on up at her magnificent breasts. If any pussy felt better than this one, I sure can't remember it!
She tilted her head up and looked straight into my eyes, "Please, put it ALL the way in me, ALL...THE...WAY...IN." In one swift motion, I went in to the hilt, folding her big pussy lips inside, out of sight. Pamela made a sound that's hard to describe, though I'll never forget it. Kind of a whine that went up and down in volume but never ceased entirely. It reminded me of that sound you hear when trying to pick up a distant short-wave radio station, though distinctly a noise of extreme pleasure.
I've never heard such a sound come from a human before or since. I discovered that I could control her sounds quite predictably by varying the speed and angle of penetration. Her frequency would go way up when I cocked myself so that the top of my dick was rubbing against her clit, and I could elicit an ever faster-paced wavering noise the quicker I thrust in and out. Hitting her G-spot just so brought out sort of a looping sound immediately followed by something akin to static hiss.
Then there was her face, a beautiful woman already, as I nailed her she pursed her lips into a sweet little O and widened her eyes, just like that Marilyn look in her centerfold.
“Damn, this is fine,” I growled.
"Isn’t this fun? Just like the movie!" she responded, laughing.
I do dearly love to watch myself go in and out of a girl's pussy, and she seemed to like it just as much as me, yet every time I would look up into her lovely face, she would look straight into my eyes and keep her gaze there until I looked elsewhere. In fact, her eyes would precisely follow to whatever I was looking at—her left nipple, her right nipple, her cleavage. One time I even gazed over into the eyes of the lion, and, sure enough, Pamela was looking at the big old cat, too!
I had gradually picked up my speed to a medium fast fuck when, judging by her hip movements and the unique sounds, she was tuning in on Endless Orgasm. As we stared into each others' eyes, she grabbed my buns with both hands, sank her sharp nails in painfully deep, and began thrusting me in and out of her at a furiously fast pace. I flipped on my squelch ejaculation switch to keep from coming.
She plucked her fingers from the welts in my buns, grabbed her breasts, one in each hand, and squeezed them extra hard while twisting and pulling those grape-like nipples between thumbs and forefingers with considerable force. Biting her lower lip, her moans tuned up to such a high pitch—almost beyond the range of human hearing—and stayed at that constant frequency so loud so long, that I would have definitely inserted ear plugs had they been available. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the baboon on the opposite wall cover its ears, but I think it was just my imagination.
She was coming, and her eyes were trained like two lasers into my pupils. Pamela's pussy was gushing juices and contorting so that it was all I could do to keep my mental lever forcefully on the squelch ejaculation switch. I didn't put a stop-watch on it, but I'd estimate she orgasmed for at least three, perhaps as much as five, minutes.
Well, over the next couple of hours, we did just about everything in that trophy room that we'd seen in the XXX film, many of which Pamela said she was doing for the first time. "Let's try that, what did you call it—flying fuck—that we saw. Oh, this is so much fun!" she would say. SHE was the real trophy in that room!
That polar bear rug made a great platform for fucking doggie, spoons and its variations, and girl-atop-guy, both facing forward and away. No matter what position we were in, her short-wave pleasure radio worked just fine in all of them.
At one point, we were in a 69 on the rug, with me on the bottom. The bear head made an excellent place to rest my own head and was at just the right height and angle to eat her luscious pussy with ease, and I was delighted that she enjoyed having her body devoured.
It was during that 69 that she sucked me for the first time that evening. The girl could suck a dick! I'm not sure if someone taught her, but, since she was learning so much about sex with me even though she was already 18, I'd say she was just a natural. Her big meaty mounds dangling down with their grapey nipples on my stomach just felt great as she noisily sucked and slurped my cock like a popsicle on a hot summer day.
Looking up at her ass and pussy from below and behind in the 69 was truly a sight to behold. The distinct tan lines on the bottom of her buns perfectly followed the creases between bun and leg, and seemed to me like arrows pointing at the best stuff: This way to pussy. And watching her thick lips and concave cheeks suck me by looking between her legs, across her wet pussy, and on between her bobbling breasts draped down was just a view to die for.
In the interest of giving her the maximum amount of pleasure for as long as possible, I had kept my do-not-come switch on so long that I was beginning to wonder whether I could ejaculate at all. I do not know if I can count as high as the number of times she came.
I twisted a fatty and fired it up, which obviously made her nervous. At first she said she did not partake, but halfway through it, I absent-mindedly passed it to her, and she finished it with me.
"I'm so thirsty!" she exclaimed. I was, too, and our glasses were empty, so she grabbed them and ran, completely naked, out the door and down the dark hall to get more beer. She was certainly a sight to behold, her big breasts bouncing up and down as she ran. I do love to see a fine-looking, girl run naked, and she was doubtless one fine looking, girl! She obviously didn't mind the group back in the XXX film room seeing her nude, as some of them were half-naked when we left anyway.
She was gone for several minutes, and I imagined I might be missing a full-fledged orgy going on in the other room. This fantasy quickly became so realistically probable and appealing that I decided to go down there to see just what was up.
But as I pushed open the door, Pamela finally appeared. "Everybody's gone. There's not a soul left here but us. The keg's empty, but I was able to coax a little bit of brew out for us," handing me a half a beer with lots of foam on top. "Yeah, when the beer's gone, the party's generally over," I said, a bit disappointed there was no orgy actually in process.
"Well," she said, "Our party's not over. I want do that simultaneous blow-job/titty-fuck thingy they were doing in the film, and, you know, it's high time you come, too!" Pamela squealed cutely; I noticed she had no trouble with the words now.
I looked around and decided that the 15-foot Nile crocodile on the floor would be an excellent perch for this activity. After all, its open mouth had served well as an ashtray for the doob. She laughed when she saw where I was headed.
The croc’s head was raised, so I sat on it backwards while she sat down on its flat back facing me, her soft, smooth vagina rubbing on its rough, knobby skin. His dry skin looked like it could use some emollient, and what could be better than Pamela's pussy juice?
I kissed her and worked my way down to her breasts, slobbering in her cleavage. She proceeded to lick and slobber all over my dick, then gobbled it down to its base, with just the right amount of suction, her long tongue swirling expertly as she up and downed my shaft with care.
With her chin on her chest, I was easily able to slide my cock between her firm young breasts and up into and out of her moist mouth as she squeezed her extra-lush breasts tightly together around me. I finally felt my load slowly but surely rising until, at last, I came, spewing spurt after spurt after spurt. Appropriate to the situation, I belted out my best Tarzan yell.
It had been a good while since I'd been with a woman, and my semen supply was at maximum. She tried to swallow it all but it was a lot to take in, so she gulped and swallowed and slurped with gusto. I slapped my cock on her writhing breasts, and rubbed its underside on the big grapes that were her nipples, having an ecstatic and long-lasting orgasm. The zebra on the wall seemed to be nodding approvingly.
The night went on this way; we pretty much covered the manual on creative positions and came up with a few of our own. I woke up around dawn by the pool, alone.
I struggled to clear my eyes, found my car, and went home.
I still keep Pam’s centerfold on my wall.