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Passions: Interlude– Custom Jerkoff Encouragement

9 Dec
Image: "Ordeal of Man-E-Faces" by Deviant Art user ~danbrenus

Image: “Ordeal of Man-E-Faces” by Deviant Art user ~danbrenus

Previously on Passions:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Interlude 1

Interlude 2

Part 4

Custom Jerkoff Encouragement Videos.  That was the new idea.  Men would pay you to make a video where you sat with your legs spread and talked to the camera about their fetish, liberally incorporating their name.  I want you to cum inside me, Darren.  My life is almost complete but I want to have a baby.  Your baby, Darren.  I want to feel your cum spray inside me, Darren.  This was the example Yuri showed her.  He had bought a studio, which is to say a building with a camera in it in Pacoima between a CLINICA FAMILIAR with posters of frightened pregnant girls in the window and Rudy’s Auto Shop, Specializing in Transmissions Since 1989.  I need you to give me a baby, Darren.  And she smacked her pussy, the star of Yuri’s first producorial effort, betraying her stripper roots.  Smacking your pussy makes a guy who’s staring into his vodka red bull look back up at you in a titty bar; on a laptop video screen it looks cheap and clownish.  Astrid would do better.  Darren had paid one thousand dollars to have somebody tell him she wanted his baby.  The girl got two hundred.  It was eight minutes worth of work and it didn’t seem to be a problem that the girl ran out of material at the two minute mark and just repeated herself.  The American sex industry is the last place in the world where the buyers are so desperate that incompetence is forgiven, even expected.  The quality of acting– the insincerity of the enthusiasm, or the horror in the case of something like rape porn, would have got any Wal Mart greeter fired on his first day.  But you could still feel pity and disgust pretty transparently in the passenger seat of some guy’s Honda as you took off a pair of panties that you’d been supposedly sweating and cumming in for two days and handed them to him for a hundred dollar bill.  You could still be obviously  creeped out as long as you held eye contact.  She bought them in packs of six and swabbed them in her armpits after jogging. Continue reading