lovely 18 years girl does first anal porn casting

The Throne Room Sesh
by L. G. Voltaire

Amelie walked nervously into the dimly lit casting room, her 18-year-old heart pounding. The man at the front desk, an older gentlemen with greying hair and a kind smile, looked her over appreciatively as she approached.

“Bonjour mademoiselle,” he greeted in French. “I’m Jean-Pierre. And you must be our little starlet for the afternoon, non?”

Amelie nodded, fighting back butterflies in her stomach. She had baldily answered the online ad seeking “experienced young ladies, aged 18-22, for adult film auditions.” It had been a big decision, applying – the idea of being in porn made her both intimidated and, if she were honest, a bit wet with excitement.

Jean-Pierre led her back to a lavish bedroom set, complete with a plush king size bed. Soft mood lighting gave everything a dreamy, debauched ambiance.

“Strip for me cherie,” he instructed. “Let’s have a look at what we’re working with.”

Amelie took a deep shaky breath. She’d never really done anything like this before. In fact, guys she’d been with were always surprised at how innocent she remained. But here she was, standing tall, pushing her black lace panties and bra to the floor. Her petite body was almost completely bare, save for those little black mounds over her nipples and a small patch of hair between her legs.

“Magnifique,” Jean-Pierre declared, circling her slowly like a shark in slowed-down motion. “Absolutely exquisite.” He reached out and cupped a breast in his large leathery hand. “They’re real, I see. J’aime ça.”

Amelie flushed. She had such a hard time taking compliments, even about her body. The sensitivity of her young skin made his touch electric.

Jean-Pierre continued exploring, his fingertips a counterpoint massage on her derriere. “Amelie, pour votre audition ce jour, je voudrais vous prendre sur le dedans. Intérieurement,” he purred.

Amelie bit her plump bottom lip. She knew “inside” and “back door” in French. And though she’d never gone there with anyone before, the vague hunger she could already feel there made her swell with the idea of allowing herself to be taken anally.

“Oui, Monsieur,” she agreed shyly, eyes lowered. “Upgrade my virginity if you like. I want to learn.”

Jean-Pierre grinned lasciviously, loosening his slacks to reveal his manhood. Amelie’s eyes widened. Not only was he uncircumcised, but he seemed so much bigger than she’d seen in the flesh before. She swallowed hard, wondering if it would fit in there. Looked like she was about to find out…

“Rrrregarde,” he growled, tapping her rear as he climbed up onto the bed to lie back against the satin pillows. This was the stuff she’d watched herself late at night. The embarrassing fantasy videos of a titillated teen. And now her own naked body was positioned atop his. His erection was aligned with her rosebud.

“Take a deep breath Amelie,” Jean-Pierre instructed. “Here comes a brand new beginning to your sexuality.”

Treading carefully, Amelie lowered herself, feeling his wide tip press insistently against her tight puckered entrance. Biting her lip, she felt the yielding elastic spincter slowly surrender inch by excruciating inch, taking him inside.

“Mmmm…” she moaned in ebbs and flows, adjustments to new bodily sensations, attempts at motivation through pleasure. Resisting the strange foreign objects and yet causing them to draw closer, swallow them down through the mirage of hot flesh.

“Prends moi,” he purred, watching her come around to meet him. Her golden brown hair spilled over her back, smooth and glossy in the lamplight. He cupped her breasts, letting his thumb flick over each nipple.

Amelie was soon bearing down on his long shaft, her fingers digging into his chest. She began to move, rising and falling with easy strokes. The pain had melted into a different sensation entirely, one that had never been known until just that moment…

Her ass jiggled with each motion. His heavy sac slapped against the underside of her canal with every drop down. They were becoming one being, two-fleshed, bound and joined in the most closed and special of spaces.

Amelie experimentally swiveled her hips, feeling the different nerves spark from the surprising new angles, the different sensations. Her nipples, so sensitive, ached in Jean-Pierre’s hands… She rode him with new purpose, whipping glints of light from wet clings little by little.

Tears smarted in her eyes as she neared a mind-numbing orgasm, the pink sunset of WAR and sickness, and the red sun of mastery and foreignness. Jean-Pierre’s strokes within her bottom half perceived this and quickened their swinging stokes. His grip on her breasts became tighter, slamming her up and down the rod.

Sweat slid between their heaving bodies and the assault of sensation mounted. he was pulsing now, his fingers finding the tips of her breasts, her nipples like swollen and tight cherries. He was spouting with frantic impulses burning in his chest.

“Ahh,” Amelie felt herself hit a scary peak, her whole body tingling and on edge. Coming up again, back sliding closed, wet and clingy, conducted on grease. Green, rough concerns burst in her head and her eyes clenched in rictuses of ancient ecstasy.

YES! she thought as her body alienated itself from the world. She jolted in one massive convulsion upon him, exploding into a thousand smaller contractions, each one more alive than the last, generating systems of death and pleasure.

“Mon dieu Amelie, yes!” Jean-Pierre yelled. “Beget that denouement! Make yourself reborn!”

He surged three, four, more times, trailing off in feeble spurts beneath her quaking buttock muscles, spending himself deep in her rippling interior cave.

When it was all over, Amelie felt like she’d left her skin. She remained there, trembling and sweating, still impaled on his cock but feeling like a different person completely. The price of passage paid, she had crossed over to the other side. If this was adult, or porn star life, then she wanted no part in childish innocence anymore.

Jean-Pierre withdrew carefully, a clearing hiss of air. The managers of the studio, peeking in, shouting in congratulations. He kissed her thigh.

“Well done, my little star,” he said warmly, dabbing between her legs with a damp towel. “Now let’s make a film, hmm?”