Mr. President 2(59)

I swear to God, there is a reason this girl looks fucking bored. Because if she showed even an ounce of fucking interest, this entire session would be over. We would be all over her.

She gives the barest of effort and passes her smoldering eyes over me. Her hands travel up her legs and gently brush her ass.

My cock was already twitching. Now that 12 inches sitting in my trousers has a fucking heart beat.

“28 and up, thank you for coming today,” Joes says looking at his clipboard. “23 and below, you can leave as well.”

He just excused more than half the fucking remaining girls. There’s only three at this point and they maintain their poses. I swear to God this is the hottest casting session I’ve ever been to. Ever.

“25, 26, 27, please have a seat,” Joel instructs and each of the girls sits down.

“Okay, then,” Joel says shifting himself in his seat. “This is where we get to have some fun.”

He glances at me, but I don't fucking care about him at all. Not when I can keep staring at this blonde beauty sitting as one of three finalists now for Illicit Escape. If she gets selected, then most likely I’m never going to fuck her.

It’s not that I’m judgmental, babe.

It’s because…well, this is a casting session. For a pornographic content company. Whoever gets the spot is going to be someone I don’t really want to fuck. That’s why I always went after the losers.

What? You don’t get what I’m talking about?

“Well, ladies,” Joel says and unbuttons his jeans. “This is where you get to show us how much hands on experience you have, and how much you’re able to put it to use,” he’s got a shit-eating smile on his fucking face and for some reason I want to punch the guy. But we don’t pay our directors that much—namely we give them a lot of fringe benefits…like being able to fuck the girls who try out.

“I’m waiting,” he says, and the girls get the message. Two of them, #25 and #27 look at each other and get off the couch, walking toward him, giggling.

They get down on their hands and knees when they’re a foot away and begin to crawl.

“Very good, girls,” Joel coos, excited as to what’s coming. “You too, #26, if you still want the job.”

I watch as #25 and #27 begin to unzip Joel’s jeans and pull out his cock. He’s tiny. Maybe about 6 inches, but he leans his head back and sighs contentedly as one girl wraps her lips around his head and the other uses her tongue to begin licking his shaft.#p#分页标题#e#

“#26, we’re waiting,” Joel says, but the girls are doing enough of a job that he doesn’t care. “Show me your most valuable … ability.”

Fuck. I could've left and not had to see this. How did I know she would fucking wow him and make it to the finals.

And that’s when I notice that #26 has gotten off the couch and is walking toward us.

Her eyes are full of passion and desire. Lust seems to be the only thing propelling her.

Joel closes his eyes and groans at the pleasurable feeling two mouths are bringing his cock.

And that’s when I fucking notice that she’s not going toward Joel.

She’s walking to me.

With a luscious smile on her face.

Fuck.





135





Brittney





This is going to be easier than I thought.

Instead of focusing on what really matters, all the other women went for the crude and easy approach. They don’t seem to realize that sex isn’t about ... sex. There’s more to it than that. It isn’t about showing off your naked body, or moaning as loudly as possible. Do you want to know what the real secret is? The one thing that turns a hot woman into a Goddess, and that drives men into madness? I’ll tell you for free: it’s seduction ... The art of seduction is the key, and I’m an artist.

“Brittney … #26,” the casting director reads my name from a sheet of a paper, and I go up to my feet, a subtle smile on my face. Unlike the others, I’m not wearing a raunchy outfit; instead of going for the stripper shorts and dancer bra, I’m wearing a black tight fitting dress. It hugs my curves perfectly, and as I get up from my seat and everyone looks at me, I know I’ve made the right choice.

Both Ethan and the casting director—I believe his name is Joel?—lean back in their seats, their eyes roaming over my body. Walking with a slow but sure step, I walk past Ethan. I do my best to ignore him and head straight for the director. I tuck one lock of hair behind my ear, and then lean into him, my lips brushing against his ear as I speak. He listens attentively, his eyes lost on my cleavage, and then nods.