Hold the Pepperoni

Autor’s note – This is an excerpt from my upcoming book, “Black Sheep Rising,” and requires a touch of context. The book is about a couple (Greg and Octa…pornstar stage name Cobra) being interviewed on their 25th anniversary (by Ursula). This particular scene (and it is not a completed story) is them telling of how they met the first time, sort of. It is also my first mention to my readers that this story is a spinoff of my earlier work on Director Jake. So, with all this said, let’s join the scene, already in progress. ACTION!

She lowered to her knees and waited. Her belly burned from a mixture of excitement and fear. With knees on the pillow she had pulled from the bed, everything else felt comfortable. Lowering further, she sat back on her calves.

At least this was what Octa thought the character would be feeling. The porn industry was not known for quality acting and writing, but she wanted to do something better and always tried to imagine how her characters felt.

Would Octa ever be naked and on her knees in a hotel suite waiting for some unknown fan that won the “fuck a pornstar” contest on her website? No. Absolutely not. In fact, Octa could say with certainty that she’d never even been in a hotel suite before this.

Cobra Dixon, her alter ego and pseudonym, might do it, if the money were right. However, even that seemed a stretch.

In this case, it was Octa playing Cobra playing an amateur sex performer named Tiffany. And, yes, Tiffany would definitely fuck a fan that won a contest on her website.

Especially one as well hung as Dong Thorn.

But then again, what fan wasn’t hung like Dong Thom?

“Cut!” the director yelled. “What the fuck is that look on your face? This isn’t supposed to be funny!”

Octa looked over at the ranting man behind the cameras, only then did she realize just how close to laughter she was.

“Cobra! Give me sultry. Give me aroused. Even give me fucking scared.” His shoulders slumped. “But don’t give me comedic.”

“Sorry, Tony.”

A knock on the hotel room door interrupted them.

Tony turned to the assistant holding the walkie-talkie beside him. “Did you call for Dong?”

Jan shook her head with sheepish eyes, looking befuddled by what was going on.

Octa imagined Jan was more confused by the fact she wasn’t asked to be a fluffer on this shoot.

Dong, however, worked without a fluffer to be more genuine. He often compared it to trapeze without a net…which Octa felt was a poor choice of metaphor.

“Well, could you get the door?” Tony asked with sarcasm rising in his voice.

Jan stepped around the camera and avoided the cords.

Considering Tony’s last assistant, Phil had a habit of tripping over everything and anything, Octa figured Jan would now be a permanent fixture at Tony’s side after seeing that.

Jan opened the door a crack and spoke to someone quietly. After a muffled answer followed, she opened the door and allowed a tall man carrying a thermal bag in. “Did you order pizza?” she asked Tony.

Tony turned red. “I did not order a fucking pizza! Who here ordered a fucking pizza?” He looked around and saw no admissions among the small crew. “Dong! Did you order a pizza?”

Dong Thorn stepped out of the bathroom with a towel in his hand. He reached up and pulled the headphones away from his ears, allowing the squeak of jazz music to be heard across the room. “No, man. I did no such thing. I’m a vegetarian.”

“The second pizza is veggie,” Thermal Bag man said.

“Oh, is it now!” Tony yelled at the man. “How convenient. However, I think you got the wrong fucking place!”

Thermal Bag man held up his left hand. “Sorry, man. I double-checked, so I’m in the place they told me, but someone at the restaurant might have made an error.”

“Do you think?” Tony shrieked.

“Tony?” Octa interrupted. “I’m hungry and, if he’s got pizza.” She shrugged at him before turning to Thermal Bag man. “What’s the first pizza?”

“Pepperoni and onions.” Thermal Bag man almost jumped on seeing her. Somehow, he’d not noticed the voluptuous naked woman kneeling in front of the hotel suite bed.

“You’re hungry?” Tony’s voice seemed to whisper-scream, having had all his body’s excess power redirected to the look of amazement on his face. His mouth moved a few times before sounds returned. He seemed to calm before turning to Jan. “Pay the man.”

Jan slowly turned to look at Thermal Bag man. “But I don’t have any money.”

Tony’s shoulders slumped. “Does anyone here have any cash?”

Again, no admissions from the crew followed.

Dong laughed and, for no apparent reason, started popping his pec muscles.

“I don’t have cash, but I can pay him,” Octa said. She beckoned Thermal Bag man closer.

Still mesmerized, he followed her direction.

Straightening up on her knees, her hands found the fly of his blue jeans and tugged down.


“Why did you make Dong’s pecs pop, again?” Octa looked at her husband. “You actually wrote that in the script, and I still don’t know why.”

Greg laughed. “I was trying to make the delivery guy look more average. Here was this buxom pornstar about to blow the geeky pizza guy in front of this massive rock of a man that she would fuck later. A reverse cuckold thing, almost.”

Octa didn’t move.

“Fine, Vance asked me to write it in.”

“Vance?” Ursula asked with her eyes near bulging out of her head. “Vance Vincent?”

Octa nodded. “He was a regular partner for me early on in my career.”

“He was a favorite of Jake Flagg’s, too,” Greg added. “But, yeah. It was his idea to randomly pop the pecs at that point.

“I know Jake!” Ursula said with a wide smile.polyamory erotica blowjob Savannah

“He’s great, isn’t he?” Octa smiled back. “The thing that so many just don’t understand is how unrealistic produced porn is to the actual set. The scenes look a lot more sensual after post-production than they are during the actual filming.”

“I didn’t have a veggie pizza, either.”

Octa and Ursula both turned to Greg.

He shrugged. “Writer’s prerogative.”


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