Casting About: Part 3 [MF][Oral][ENF][Reluc][Exh][Voy][Mast]

**Casting About: Part 3**

—-

**Darling gets the show on the road**

I know what you’re thinking—Sheryl ran me around like a greyhound after a robot rabbit. Not true. It was a mutual—symbiotic, even—*partnership*. Yes, I had to go through her little hazing, but that was nothing, really. Had I not jerked off in front of the camera, I probably would have done it five minutes later in my office. Her scene was hot! Really. There’s something about seeing a real actor go at it, like, knowing they’re *really* committing to a scene, and she did that while engaging in a sex act. It makes you realize how terrible most actual porn truly is.

Sheryl chose my next five candidates, all very pretty, if not beautiful—she had an eye for ‘real’ looking girls—and she went a few extra steps, writing up a new questionnaire for me to interview the actresses, get some insight into their personalities. Sheryl said they are far more thorough on the reality shows, many of which even have psychologists to fuck with their contestants’ heads, but we were a small business…so…

“Hi, I’m Benson Darling, Darling for Short, and this is one of my assistant producers, Sheryl.” Sheryl said hello, and we all shook hands with our new candidate.

“Hi, I’m Lena…ha…but you know that.” We all laughed politely.

“So,” Sheryl started, “you’re only one of a few we’ve given a call back to, so congratulations on that.” The girl beamed. “We have a couple of things we need to do today. Some movement shots—just you walking in front of the camera, then we’ll do a couple of shots in wardrobe. Does that sound okay?”

“Sure.” She said.

“That’s an interesting accent I’m detecting.” I said. “Where are you from originally.”

“Oh, um, Tennessee.” Lena said. “I try to hide the southern-ness in my voice, but every once in a while, it slips.”

“I would have never guessed.” Sheryl said. “Small town?”

“Yes.”

“What did your family do?” Sheryl managed to pull a bunch of info out of the girl, all sorts of things about her growing up, hopes, dreams, I was noting all of it. We ended up moving to the video suite, and I handed off the sheet of info to Sheryl.

“So…” I said from behind the camera. “Thanks for coming back, Lena. I was asked to do a movement roll of you. The producers liked your audition, but they need to see you in a bit more action. So, just like last time, I need you to be naked for part of this.”

“Oh,” her face paled, blonde as she was, “topless again?”

“Um, *fully* nude, actually, but just for the first movement set. Like I mentioned in my office, I have some wardrobe shots I need to do, too, okay? This is like, the final step before casting. You are in the running.”

“Oh, okay.” Lena muttered. “Is there a, um, dressing room or something?”

“Just undress here, set your clothes off to the side of the couch so they’re not in the shot.” He said.

“That’s fine.” I added. “We’re not shooting yet.” Lena hesitated a bit more than Sheryl, though the tension was good. She was more nervous with extra people in the room, even if it just was *one* extra person. She got naked for me with little hesitation during our first meeting. She stripped down to her bra and panties quickly, sporty lycra stuff in black, though she was wearing a thong. Great ass, though. The contrast made her look paler. She slid off her panties first, then the bra, keeping her breasts covered.

“I know you’re probably feeling a bit nervous, Lena,” Sheryl said, “but could you make sure to not cover yourself? Otherwise, we might have to do this again.”

“Sorry, um, sorry…” She lowered her hands and stood a bit awkwardly. “I really haven’t done *full* nudity before.” Michael was listening in over the monitors, and I knew my phone was about to ring. He would quietly read his end of a script, and I would be very angry on the part of Lena and her dashed hopes. After my tirade, she asked, almost mimicking Sheryl’s performance:

“Is there a problem?”

“I think you probably heard enough of that to know it’s done…the show is done. Freakin’ studio politics. That’s all it is. You were great, though, really great.”

“So, no show? No, um, no part?”

“Look, I’m sorry, but…no, *wait*, okay, just wait. Sheryl,” I looked to her, “come with me to the editing suite, please.” Sheryl took off her headset and put it on the table near Lena on the couch. The volume was turned up so that she would hear everything we discussed in the editing suite, though we would also lay the recording down in post-production. “Just wait, Lena, let me go talk to someone really quick. This is going to sound crazy, but just sit, okay?” She sat down on the couch covering herself much like Sheryl had. I led Sheryl to the ‘Editing Suite’, now labelled as such, and knocked on the door, stepping inside.

“Hey, Charles, look, we got some bad news for the studio. The shows been cancelled. The whole thing.”

“What? Shit. I hate this bullshit. That’s a lot of work down the drain.”

“Well, that’s partly why I’m here. The girl we have out there right now, Lena, sweet girl, from Tennessee, I was hoping maybe we could offer her something else. The girl’s got talent, like, *real* talent, something I haven’t seen a in a while. Can’t really put my finger on it.” Charles purposefully mutters some things out of mic range.

“I…well, I don’t know. She *might* be interested.” I said.

“The money is good.” Charles said clearly. “And this will be something different, positive, groundbreaking, even.” Sheryl is watching the girl on the monitor. The girl is listening in to the headset, leaning over it to hear us better, not really shy about her bare breasts showing to the camera at the moment. Sheryl gives us the thumbs up, and all three of us leave the editing suite. The girl sits up straight, trying to hide the fact that she was listening in, and making an effort to cover herself a little more at the sight of Charles.

Charles made his pitch, and for a minute it seemed as if the girl was buying it, but then she stood.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said grabbing her bra, “but I just can’t—not this.” I had to focus to try not to stare at her waxed pussy, probably one of the most picture-perfect ones I’d ever seen. I’d had a co-star on one of my old shows get plastic surgery to get that level of perfection—and just for her pussy! We never fucked, but she was desperate to showed off her plastic surgeon’s handiwork. I wondered if Miss Tennessee was a natural blonde. It was Sheryl’s turn to swoop in.

“Wait, Lena, wait. Come here.” She led the girl to another corner of the office, off-camera, but still mic’d. Lena clutched her bra to her chest, still completely naked, looking like she was lost. “What’s the problem here, the *real* problem?”

“I don’t do porn. I told you, I’ve never even been fully *nude* on camera before.”

“Before, sure, but *now* you have. Did the world end?” Sheryl asked.

“No, but…” Lena didn’t really have a good answer.

“Look, you haven’t seen the scripts we’re working on. That TV show was big, sure, and it sucks it’s gone, but we have magazines, actual industry *trade* magazines, sniffing around our production offices here and back in LA, because people are talking about how we want to bring porn back to the mainstream, make it safe, make it erotica that adult men and women—women in particular—can really enjoy. That almost happened back in the seventies, did you know that? But get-rich-quick idiots made it trashy, then direct-to-video, low production-value garbage, and now the genre has an unearned stigma.”

“I get that, I do, sure, but you want me to—.” She was in full-on Tennessee accent now, not garbled southern dullard or anything, but not pretending to be from Anywhere, USA.

“I want you to give a blowjob on camera. I’m not going to mince words. You will take Charles’s penis in your hand, put it in your mouth, and make him come. It’s really just *mechanics*, when you think of it. Famous actresses have done this in worldwide-released movies…Chloe whatever her last name is, remember? That was supposedly a big deal, but she’s been in tons of serious stuff since then. A bunch of French actresses, too. They’ve all won awards.”

“But she was already an actress.” Lena said.

“*You’re* already an actor, Lena. We saw your resume. You’ve gone down on guys before, right? Back in your hometown? The first time you did that, I bet you felt scared, a little dirty, maybe, but then realized it wasn’t so bad…easy, actually. That’s the great thing about men—we don’t have to do much to get them where they need to go.” The girl nodded. “And that was *small town* you. Now you’re Lena the actor, multiple TV and movie scenes on your resume, not the *country* girl, scared of the unknown. We don’t want you to be fake, to be plastic. That’s why my boss likes you for this part. He wants *real* women. This is just an audition right now, but your chances are honestly better for this opportunity than they were for the other part. The studio was really leaning toward a brunette.”

“I just don’t—.” She frowned. “A brunette, really?”

“Look, none of us are going to twist your arm. Get dressed, walk out. No harm, no foul. But you can act, you’re beautiful, seriously—I look at that body of yours, and all I can think is: Jealous.” Damn, if I didn’t get a little shiver listening to Sheryl work her magic. “Just give it a go. You’re already naked. It’s not as if you need to be shy, but don’t get me wrong, we *want* you to be hesitant. We *want* you to be nervous. *Professionals* are in porn, borderline prostitutes. *Actors* are in art. Remember that. Play it up. Show us what you can do. How great you are. One audition, okay?”

“I, um…” Sheryl wouldn’t let her think too hard on it, wouldn’t let her get a word in.

“What other audition do you have right now? None, I bet. I *know*, I’ve been in your shoes. It’s *hard* out there.” Lena shook her head. “Not your fault, really, you wouldn’t be down here—an hour out of LA—if your phone was ringing off the hook. We’ve *all* been there. Honestly, given the work we’re doing on this project, you’re really lucky to have this opportunity. You saw the other girls waiting out there. We have a couple dozen more lined up over the next few days alone. They’re here for the erotica, not for the now *non-existent* TV show.” Sheryl led her back toward the cameras. “Come on, you’re going to throw this chance away because, what, you’re shy? Embarrassed? Actors—real actors—know that the craft asks them to give their all, to break emotional boundaries, to give themselves to the work.” I don’t know if she’s agreed or she’s just going where she’s led, but Lena is back on the couch in under five minutes.

Charles and Lena went over their lines, Lena trying to act as professional as possible, given her nudity, though Sheryl really did clean up the script. It’s tight, workable, believable. We’re rolling the whole time, but make a show of starting the scene. The two work their way through their lines, and Charles pulls out his ‘main talent’. She’s shy, afraid to reach out for it, but she does, looking at the camera for a moment, though unintentionally. She moved in, hand around the base of his cock, and I was half-convinced she was going to back out again, but then she started blowing him, a little sloppily at first, but she closed her eyes started going for it, likely pretending the cameras weren’t there. It was good, real, but it didn’t do as much for me as when Sheryl was on camera. No hard on, that’s for sure. Maybe I just didn’t like blondes as much.

Charles backed her off just as he started coming, surprising her with a chest full of jizz that almost glittered in the lighting. To her credit, Lena continued to pump him gently as he came. The girl was courteous if nothing else.

“Cut.” I said.

“So, um, okay, I wasn’t expecting that last bit.” Lena said, looking down at her chest.

“Yeah,” Charles said, “we actually should have discussed what you wanted. I’m not very experienced at this myself so…you know…like, I just assumed you probably didn’t want to swallow?”

“Well, um, yeah.” She said. “Can I get a tissue or something?” Sheryl reached into frame and handed her a tissue box. Lena started mopped up her chest.

“So, what did you think of the script?” Sheryl asked.

“I’m assuming this is some sort of Fifty Shades knock off…like, the girl’s boss dominates her, she just goes for it. It’s well-written.” I saw Sheryl smirk off in the corner.

“We’re making it into a series of shorts. She starts out naïve, then starts taking control of him, her own life, flip the script as it were. It’ll be a powerful female role. You did great. I really believed what you were doing.” I said.

“Before we forget.” Sheryl hands her a clipboard and an envelope. “There’s two hundred and fifty in there. We’ll need you to sign a basic release, but we’d like to start shooting in a couple of months, once script approvals are done. I think we can safely say we’ve cast one of our first stars.”

“Wait,” Lena blushes, “you’re *paying* me for the audition?”

“Once you sign the release, technically.” She tapped the papers underneath. “We might use some of the footage in web promos, tasteful, quiet, build up some buzz.” I said.

“You know how the unions are,” Sheryl said, “no play without pay. Are you interested in doing more acting? Like this?” She asked.

“I want to be on the show.” She said.

“Of course, Lena. We all expect much better things from this than the other part that collapsed. You did great, really.” Sheryl said. “I’m glad you decided to be brave. So, if we call you back, you’re willing to do more?”

“Um,” Lena looked at the money, “sure, of course, assuming the other scripts are just as good.” She signed the papers. Sheryl would never let me live it down.

Two weeks later I had to start paying Sheryl $500 a girl. She was *that* good, that *fast*. We had over thirty casting couch scenes on our website, a backlog to edit, and we were pulling in a few thousand per girl—weekly. People believed in our product. Sure, the comments debated the *reality* of the videos, but they were buying the acting. Not hugely profitable, not for porn, as I was learning, but all expenses were covered.

—-

**Sheryl shows off her apartment**

I actually let Darling put my video up on his website under the condition that it was only available to the premium subscribers—people who signed up for more than a month’s access. We had a few of those subscribers, but it was an extra stream of revenue that we were all happy for. I hadn’t given up on making real movies…little ones at least. Five- to ten-minute vignette scripts that focused on fetish scenarios, some of them not even resulting in full-on sexual acts. I wanted Darling to start shooting soon, but we had more than a few logistical hurdles to jump before we could really get to work.

He was happy to just build a giant repository of casting couch videos, maybe getting some actual fucking on video, be a little more exploitative. I tried to explain to him that those types of sites were a dime a dozen, sending him links all the time, though I honestly wondered if that didn’t expand his desire that much more. He always thought he could do things ‘better’, whatever that meant. Most of his ideas were pretty mundane.

I moved to a beach house down the road, well, the top floor of a beach house, but it was twice the size of my old apartment and half the rent. It was actually *on* the beach, and I had a small lap pool, a hot tub, and a sauna on my rooftop patio. I was making enough money to afford it, and I was half-way to convincing Darling to use the place for shooting some of the scenes I was writing. He’d be basically paying me to live there once I convinced him of that. He buzzed from the street entrance, and I left the patio, where I’d been enjoying a gin and tonic in the mid-afternoon sun, and buzzed him in. I opened the door as he reached the top of the stairs.

“Jesus, Sheryl, you’re naked!”

“Very observant, Darling.” I said, waving him inside. “I was enjoying a drink on my roof. Getting some sun. You want a drink?”

“Sure. Um, vodka on the rocks, lime.” I poured his drink and handed it over.

“So, what do I own the pleasure?”

“Can you, maybe, put on a robe or something?” He stammered.

“You’ve seen me blow Michael. I’ve seen you jerk off—while I stood there naked, I might add—and you can’t say what you need to say because my tits are out?”

“Everything’s out, including that bush or yours, which I noticed you got waxed and edged. That’s not very ‘amateur’ looking.”

“This,” I said, stepping back from the counter and showing him the triangle of hair of above my waxed pussy, “is what a *professional* producer looks like. It’s how I kept things when I could afford it. When we first met…I had bigger things to worry about than my pubes, okay? Rent. Food. Keeping the lights on.”

“I didn’t come here to pick a fight.” He said.

“Were *not* fighting. I’m *explaining*. But maybe focus a little less on my *bushiness* and more on the *business*?” I walked back toward my patio and went outside, putting on my sunglasses and laying back on my lounger. Darling followed a moment later, but was trying his best to maintain eye contact. He gave up after a few beats and glanced around.

“You know, some of the buildings nearby may actually be able to see up here.”

“I haven’t had any complaints so far.” I raised a glass to my imaginary voyeurs.

“Well, it is *kind* of a concern if you want to start filming up here.” That made me sit up. My drink sloshed on my chest and I felt my nipples go hard from the cold liquid. I grabbed a towel and dried off.

“Really?” I asked. “Finally?”

“Jesus, you act like it’s been years since you asked. It’s been a month. I *just* finished reading your first few scripts. I like ‘em…*most* of them. I have notes.” He added. Of course, he did. I was still holding the towel to my chest, though the rest of me was uncovered. I felt silly. I shouldn’t have teased him when he showed up…put on a robe…been professional like I expected him to be. “I came here to ask a couple of things. One, I need you to hire a computer guy, somebody who can both run our systems *and* make our website look a bit better. I have some example sites to work from, so I don’t think we need a designer. Two, we’ll need at least another male lead if you want to shoot even *half* of these scripts. Michael’s cock can only take so much. And three,” he paused, “I don’t really know how to say this…” He muttered.

“Just spit it out.” I smiled, trying to calm him.

“We’re getting a lot of requests for more of you.”

“More of me?” I was confused. “Oh, you mean more of *me*…” I pretended to blow an invisible cock.

“Jesus, Sheryl…” He covered his face. “Look, I’m telling you partly so you know you’re actually one of the more popular girls on our site, but also in case you actually, you know, *want* to do more. I mean, a lot of your scripts involve actual sex, real porn stuff, you know, and you are a good—no, *great*—producer, and I just don’t want you to—.”

“Wait, Darling, just wait. My scene is the *most* fake, technically, on the whole site.”

“I *know*…but, you know, you can *act*. These other girls, they may be truly nervous, but I don’t think a single one of them was oblivious to the fact that they were about to blow a guy for money.”

“Whereas me, you’d never guess I was blowing a guy for money *knowingly*…” I said.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“You want to know if I’ll spread my legs for the camera, because that’s what the ‘fans’,” I made air-quotes, hating myself for it, “that’s what they want.”

“You still have full control.”

“I’d also want 50% of my profits.”

“Fifty—Jesus, Sheryl, you’re gouging me.” It wasn’t fair, but I straddled the lounger with my legs, giving him a full view of my pussy.

“You’re asking me to give them all of me,” I set the towel aside, “and in much better quality video or pictures than my first—and only—set.” He looked at me, taking a beat, and not being shy about *looking* looking at me.

“You would choose what you want to be in,” he finally said. “If that’s *just* the softer-core stuff, so be it. If you want my honest opinion, I’d rather you spend all your time behind the scenes, but I wasn’t going to deny you this chance—I guess—just because it makes me a bit nervous.”

“Why? Why does it make you nervous? Or is it just the money you might lose?”

“It’s not the money! Because I *know* you Sheryl. Like, we actually work *together*. Regardless of you spreading for me like it’s nothing,” he gestured at my nudity, “the rest of them, they work *for* me. There’s a difference. *I* think there’s a difference.”

“That’s actually remarkably sweet, Darling.” I brought my leg over and sat more demurely.

“Honest to Christ, Sheryl,” he down his drink standing up. “I was just trying to be n—.”

“Calm down. It’s a lot to think about, that’s all. It really *was* nice, what you said. I appreciate it. I’ll start looking for an IT guy and another male actor. I need a day or two to think on what I’m going to do.” I said.

“Take all the time you need. ‘No’ is a perfectly acceptable answer.” He left and I set the towel to the side, stretching out naked again on the lounger.

With me picking another male lead, I might also have been picking a guy who’d be fucking me on camera. On one hand, I could really have some fun with that, but did I actually want to take the full leap into porn? Some of my scripts had spanking, humiliation, restraints, coercion, bukkake, exhibitionism, partner swapping, foot stuff—a whole gamut of fetishes, some of which I really only knew about from some recent research—and that could be *me* doing it.

I went back into my apartment and grabbed my laptop, refilling my drink in the process. I pulled up our website and logged in. I wasn’t quite an administrator, but I could see a lot of stats and stuff. I pulled up my profile, seeing a not-great head shot they must’ve pulled from some other video, and played my video for a few moments. Checking out some of the other girls, I saw no discernable difference. To be honest, most of them were younger and more attractive than me, and that was because *I* chose them. I looked at the viewing stats, and while the basic site had half a dozen popular girls, thousands of comments, votes, and views, on the premium side, I was one of the top two—me and some blonde I couldn’t remember meeting. I watched her video and remembered who she was, a petite woman named Erin, did a few commercials in South America, thought she might get on the telenovelas down there because she was real blonde *and* spoke fluent Spanish, but it never took off. Everyone down there had wanted her to get implants. Still, she gave—according to Michael—a hell of a blowjob. I guess other guys could see that, but I didn’t notice anything unusual.

Most of the comments on her video were about her technique, more than a few wanting her to do more explicit scenes. She’d agreed to a photoset, apparently, which was something Darling took care of without me. We had a photographer on retainer, some starving artist who came in only at night—probably because they were working days at Starbucks.

The photos were good, artsy, not always teasing enough, sometimes teasing too much, but competent. Erin had a dark blonde landing strip, but she *was* a natural blonde. Her breasts were small, smaller than mine, but not tiny, tight little pink nipples—bubble gum nips, an old boyfriend I had used to say—big green eyes, wide smile, sexy in a girl-next-door kind of way. She hadn’t been shy during her photoshoot, but nothing went beyond nudes…no shots of her asshole, for example, none of her spread wide. Sure, if you zoomed in a bit, there was the occasional suggestion, but I didn’t want ‘porn star’ to be peoples’ first thought with our girls. I made a mental note that we needed to keep *all* of our shoots like this. Sure, it was technically still porn, but naughty, not nasty.

Taking a breath, I brought up my profile again and looked at the comments. People wanted pictures. They wanted more video. They thought the sound was bad (it was), the video occasionally unfocused (also true), and a few complained about the state of my bush (admittedly, unkempt). Others wanted to know why I wasn’t on the main site. The overarching comments were pretty clear though—they’d never seen such a believable casting video. ‘Is this actually real?’ More than a few wrote. A few thought I was some actress on TV currently—which I obviously wasn’t—and I don’t know if it bothered me more that no one recognized me, confused me with someone else, or that part of me *wanted* to be recognized. I mean, I’d been in some commercials, some small walk-on speaking roles in bigger movies, a few indie films that never went anywhere, but the last real TV show I’d been on that had any real play was *Branson’s Dock*, a schmaltzy rip off of another show from the nineties. I was twenty at the time, and *not* one of the main actors. You’d have to be a huge fan to recognize me as a full-grown woman.

I closed the laptop and thought about Darling’s proposal. How far was I willing to go? I could easily write scripts that were tame, generally speaking, just for me, but I was only somewhat ashamed that I *liked* how I had pushed myself, how, if I hadn’t done it, I might not even have this job. I looked around at the buildings surrounding my place. The houses had enough separation that no one could reasonably see me, but some of the office buildings, yeah, they might be able to get a look at me. I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses and ran my hands over my breasts, teasing my nipples until my breath started to catch. I bent my legs, spreading like I had in my negotiation with Darling, and slid a hand down through the soft curls above my recently waxed labia. I was wet.

This wasn’t the first time I’d done this since moving in. I discovered I really enjoyed getting off outside, especially in the daylight. For the past week I’d been going at it nearly every afternoon. I enjoyed imagining some nine-to-five office schlub watching me from his cubicle, his pants getting tight, maybe looking for girl like me on the internet, finding my site, probably not even realizing it was me, jerking off, fucking his wife while thinking about me, leaving a comment: Is there more of her? I want more. I want to see her bent over. I want to see her taken. Jizz all over her. Wanting it. Needing it.

I started coming, not shy about being loud, enjoying it, scrunching my toes, lost in my imagination. Maybe…maybe…maybe…

**End Part 3**

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/bkcnjv/casting_about_part_3_mforalenfrelucexhvoymast