Busy Hands 4 (Patreon)

As much as he’d hoped the crew wouldn’t notice Jessica’s unprofessional tension with him, now Denny was even more vehement in hoping they wouldn’t notice her newfound friendliness. She found excuse after excuse to come over to the director’s chair and lean over him, even if it was just to read from the script in his lap, so she could rub her breasts against his body. She even started hugging him in celebration of wrapping scenes, each time slipping one leg between his so she felt his cock against her thigh.

Denny hoped that her touchy-feely qualities were being dismissed by the crew as simply an exciting new drug addiction, but if she kept centering all her affection on him, someone would figure out there was sex in the air. And how was he supposed to dissuade her when he was poised to see her again that night?

For courage, he stopped at a corner bar on the way home from the set and ordered himself a quick double shot. As nervy as he was about being in a relationship with Jessica, he couldn’t stop thinking about her young lithe body or her snug little cunt, the possibilities of all that fine anatomy he hadn’t yet fucked, had barely even touched.

All day long he’d resisted the urge to take her somewhere private and slam his cock to her. Every scene she was in had her wearing something fashionable, skimpy, and absolutely ravishing on her. Just seeing her walk around gave him one hell of a charge. Denny had to imagine that no girl he’d ever been with could be even half the fuck that Jessica clearly was. But then he’d be in even deeper than he already was.

“Here you are, sir,” a familiar voice came, though Denny was looking to his drink before he could place it. Then he realized it was Jessica.

She purposely moved her hand so their fingers touched when he accepted the drink. Denny snatched his hand back as though burned, almost spilling his double all over himself.

Jessica smiled, clearly enjoying the power he was giving her over him. She was wearing the angelic costume her character had on in the movie—the one whose underwear had given them such problems. The gold-braided hemline delved deep into her cleavage, showing off almost all of her pert breasts, while the white dress’s skirt came up almost to the top of her long legs, displaying their full length if only in passing. With each striding step she took, walking around him, the hem flared about her rippling thighs, darting about the sight of her pantied crotch.

Denny drank the shot. He needed it.

“How could you do it, Denny? A sweet, helpless little girl—didn’t you see how desperate I was? How long I’d waited for a guy like you? How much I needed a cock like yours? And you certainly let me have it, didn’t you? All ten inches. You really got off, you son of a bitch. You fucked my poor little cunt until… oh God… I can’t even think about it, Denny. I’m so ashamed. How could you make me feel so embarrassed?”

“Now, Jessica, wait, wait, all we did was fool around a little, I didn’t really do much of anything—mostly we just talked, right?”

Putting her back to him, Jessica steepled her arms on the bar and looked at the bottles on the wall like they were torture implements she might use on him. “All that delicious tightness in me, Denny… I was so damn snug, tight enough that a guy could barely get inside me. Then you fucked me with that big dumb cock and now I’m loose as a bucket.” Jessica turned on him, pouting inconsolably. “How could you? Did you enjoy it, mister? Making me into such a goddamn slut? I really feel like a whore now, you know, with my big cunt—now I know it’s just made to be fucked by a fat dick. I used to be so proud of my sweet little vajayjay, but now all I can see it as is a cock-holster. Your… damn… cock-holster.”

“It was just a little fingering!” Denny protested, looking around in a panic. The bar was empty and he didn’t know where the bartender was, but at least it was just him and Jessica hearing this conversation. Or maybe that was a bad thing. At the moment, he might like someone here so Jessica didn’t have him alone. “And it wasn’t like I planned it, you know, it just happened!”

“Just happened?” Jessica demanded, hopping up on the bar and burying her face in her hands. “It felt like it went on for hours! That’s how long you stretched me! I felt every second of you breaking my poor little cunt in! Making it so it doesn’t even feel like mine anymore.” She sobbed. “It’s just your goddamn cum dumpster! I’m walking around with your own private fuck-hole between my legs!”

“I… no, no, not at all! It’s still your—look, I respect you!”

“I sure felt respected, getting thrown on the floor and taken like a bitch in heat! With you calling me exactly what I was. A whore. A hot little slut who lived for cock—“

“No! No!” Denny insisted. “You must’ve misheard me!”

“And do you know how hung you are? You must know. You’re not average, you’re not even above-average. You’re a monster. Did you think I was going to get fucked by that huge beast of a cock and just walk away with it? Not straight, Denny!” Jessica pulled on two plaits of her hair like she wanted to rip them from her head. “I was so scared of that big dick, Denny. You could’ve sent me packing, but you fucked me instead, when I couldn’t resist you. Now I’m more scared of that dick than ever, but I also love every inch of it. I can’t stop thinking about it stretching me, how much of it there is and how I felt with all that hard fucking meat inside my tight wet cunt. Fucking my poor little pussy until it was ruined for other men. Actually making me a cock-addict, a total slut, a sexual plaything for you and you alone. And as if that wasn’t enough, you came inside me! Now I can’t stop getting off on the thought of you breeding me! As if my tight little cunt hasn’t been through enough!”

“What are you talking about?” Denny demanded, the shrill words bursting out of him. “I never fucked you! If anything, you fucked me!”

Suddenly, like a child unsuccessfully trying to conceal a grin, Jessica bit the inside of her cheek. Her voice came out raw and sizzling, sultry, not the tearful whine it had been before. “Sounds kinda pathetic when you put it like that. There she was, that sweet 19-year-old Latina pussy just begging to be fucked, and all you got out of her was a handjob? You could’ve fucked that slut right in the ass; it would’ve been the best night of her life, being your sex slave for the first time and burning off all that delicious cum you’ve been storing up. Instead, she’ll have to go through life knowing that you made her your bitch for a lousy stroke-off. Jerk.”

Denny was so overcome that his shotglass slipped right out of his numb hand and crashed on the floor. No one noticed. There was no one to notice. This place was as empty as a desert island. “Who the hell are you? Some… split-fucking-personality?”

Jessica spun on her rump to slip behind the bar and grab a bottle of scotch from the shelves. “Oh hell no, brother, I know exactly who I am and I’m a hundred percent me. No inner conflict, no second thoughts—you might say I’ve got a one-track mind, but then, so does Jessica.”

Denny put his hands on his head and dragged them over his face. “This is a dream. I’m dreaming.”

“I’m surprised the girl drinking scotch gave it away and not Senorita Alba staking a claim on your dick. But then, that did really happen and this is a dream and I’m not really drinking scotch, so I guess that’s really perceptive of you. No wonder you got to be a director.”

“You’re a dream.” Denny felt a fresh wash of sweat pouring from his brow and wiped it away. “You’re a dream…” he reassured himself.

“Not quite,” the dream girl said, taking a pull from the open bottle. “This is a dream, I’m very much real.”

“Yeah, right. You would say that.”

“Uh-huh. And Jessica Alba would take all her clothes off, tell you what a whore she is, and jack you off. Try and keep up.” She held out the bottle.

Reluctantly, Denny took it. “Then you’re…?”

“Think of me as your guardian angel. But only when it comes to the outfit. I do make this look good, don’t I?”

“Then you’re, what, the devil on my shoulder?”

“I wouldn’t think you’d actually need convincing to fuck a naked cum-slut Jessica Alba, but hey—if that’s job security, I’ll take it.” She flicked her eyes to the bottle still in his hand. “You gonna drink that, buddy? It’s your dream… not like anyone’s gonna make you pay for it.”

Thinking it made as much sense as anything, Denny took a long drink from the bottle.

“Good boy. I thought you’d never loosen up. You’ve ever heard of ‘one for them, one for me’?”

“It’s something directors do. They make one movie that’s commercial, with mass appeal, for the studio, and then they make one that’s personal, with artistic merit, even if it doesn’t make a lot of money. Not that I’ll ever get a chance to make anything that’s not about girls in bikinis getting murdered by a killer hand.”

“You’re a maudlin drunk,” Jessica sighed. “But try to see this in a big picture way. You put up with Jessica being a little sow, you make this fun movie to get the executives rich and get your crew paid and get the cast exposure… where’s the one for you? Look, no one likes thinking of themselves as a hack, but someone’s gotta make all the little movies that don’t win Oscars. And if you keep the gears turning and a slutty Jessica Alba needs to be fucked by someone—and I know you know she does—why not enjoy yourself and be the guy who’s giving Alba her daily dose of dick?”

“You’re the one here in my subconscious. You tell me.”

“You’re actually worried you’re corrupting that little whore?” Jessica laughed. “You heard her today…”

“She’s an actress. She acts for a living.”

“Oh, she wasn’t acting. Let me see if I can find a freshly turned eighteen… ah, here we are!”

She reached down under the bar and hauled up another Jessica Alba, this one wearing a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. But it was hardly conveying the chastity and modesty it was meant to. The white blouse was tied up far over her waistline, while the dark cardigan she wore over it was simply abbreviated, a swath of fabric around her ribs that quickly opened into plunging necklines for both the top and the jacket.

Her tartan skirt was short, showing as much as it could of her white stockings, which came down to black shoes that shone like vinyl. Her hair was a perversely innocent blonde, in contrast to the ‘older’ Jessica’s dark hair, and she wore a plaid hairband through it. Dark make-up shadowed her eyes and tinted her lips purple. Diamonds shone in her ears; a silver crucifix hung down between her braless breasts. Any one thing about her might be blameless, but everything put together was absolutely whorish.

“Trust me, Denny, her home, her school, every set she’s ever been on—she turned them all into brothels. She’s a natural-born cocksucker; the worst thing you could do to this filly is not let her ride.” The first Jessica jutted out her lower lip in a pout. “But her parents… her teachers… her agent… none of them understood what a promising future she had as a complete slut. Do you, Denny? Will you help her live up to her potential as the best damn puta she can be?”

Denny ran his hands through his hair. “Jesus… you’re telling me I’m actually having a religious experience to get me to be a better lay for Jessica Alba?”

“Hey, you’re the one who gave into temptation, Mr. Director. I just don’t want to see you be all milquetoast about it. Indulge yourself! Really be a libertine! Cock this little honey seven ways to Sunday and even if you never win an Oscar, Hollywood will remember you for having the most well-fucked leading lady this town’s ever seen.” She winked at him. “Y’know… the schoolgirl here actually is still a virgin. If you want, we can kinda have a do-over on that first time thing.” She licked her double’s cheek. “How about it, pom-pom? You wanna get a taste of the man you’re going to be a sex slave to when you’re all grown up?”

Like a woman who had spaced out but now was coming back to the present, the younger Jessica’s eyes focused. She glanced at her older self—if the two of them could be referred to as such when one of them was some sort of succubus and the other could’ve been her twin sister.

“Who are you?” Jessica—the real Jessica, Denny supposed—asked.

“Call me Angela,” the imposter Jessica said. “I’m your guardian angel, come to help you get laid the way you’ve always wanted to.” She nodded at Denny. “There’s a stick, doggy. Go. Fetch.”

“No,” Denny said firmly.

Angela’s eyes shot to him. She heaved a sigh. “Really? Have you not heard a word I’ve said? You might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, dude, so—“

“No as in I’m not risking my career just to go back to being Jessica Alba’s bitch-boy. I want you, Angela. And you’re going to be using your mouth. Or rather, I’m going to be using your mouth.”

Angela bit her lip and raised an eyebrow. She traded a glance with Jessica, who looked both disappointed and excited. Those hazel eyes of the real thing frantically looked to Denny as if she didn’t want to miss anything he might do to Angela, any assault he might launch on her luscious body.

“Well, it has been a while since I’ve worn a body this pretty. The least I can do is take it for a test drive.”