NW8

The company paid for a cab to take me to St John’s Wood. I stood on the pavement and looked up at the exclusive apartment block and my heart was thumping. I was wearing a business suit and I thought I looked very professional, but the ensemble I was wearing had the shortest skirt that I could reasonably get away with, and I’d left my knickers in the drawer of my desk at work. 

Miss Catfish’s apartment was amazing. She opened her front door wearing a tight jersey dress that hugged her figure and showed her hour-glass figure off to perfection. When she led me through her flat to the kitchen, I noticed her lingerie outlined through the fine fabric of her dress. I could see the shape of her suspenders running across her bottom to the smooth black nylon stockings that sheathed her legs. As she lead the way she walked like she was on-screen. She looked incredible and I knew why she earned a fortune from showing off her body.

She made me a cup of tea as I sat at the kitchen table opening my briefcase and when she joined me I could hardly take my eyes off her fabulous bust.

When we’d finished business and I packed everything away, she suggested that we move to the living room and have a drink. She brought a bottle of wine from the fridge and a couple of glasses and we sat on the sofa together. I blurted out, “So what’s it like working in the industry? Why do you do it?”

“Oh come on Jayne”, she said, “You can see why I do it. I can earn so much money”.

She paused.

“But there’s more to it than that. I’ve always loved sex. But when I was a teenager I was terribly insecure, I was dumped by my first boyfriend because he said I was too flat-chested. What a bastard! He broke my heart. There’s a part of me that has always wanted revenge on him. I was approached by a photographer a little later and I’ve been doing it ever since. As you know, I don’t do boy/girl work, but when I’m on a shoot, there’s always a part of my personality that wants him to look at my pictures and wank himself stupid”.

I could see where she was coming from; my ex-boyfriend was a total shit in hindsight.

“When I’m on a shoot, I love the idea of guys – hundreds of guys – looking at the pictures that are being taken. All of those men grasping their dicks and masturbating when they look at my photographs, all of them thinking about my body, thinking about my tits, thinking about my cunt. And all of them wanting to fuck me. All of that spunk, all of it because of me”.

I took a sip from my wine glass. I knew exactly what she meant. I get any number of emails from men who love to read my confessions, who tell me how much they want to fuck me or fuck me and Lora together. I love to hear from the more articulate amongst them, their fantasies or their tales of masturbating as they read my blog. I've got off on many of the things they've told me.

So for the first time ever I mentioned to anyone that I have been writing “Five Blue Stars”.

Miss Catfish was intrigued. She went to get her IPad and asked me for the web address. 

Sheepishly I told her.

She sat across from me, reading my words. She sniggered when she recognised references to her herself but she persisted in going through the record of all of my adventures.

“You really are having the time of your life, aren’t you”, she said. 

And she pulled up her short skirt and pushed her hand into her little black lace knickers. I watched her fingering her cunt as she read through my blog. I stood up, crossed the room and sat on the floor in front of her. She raised her IPad when I reached up her dress and grabbed the waistband of her panties, then she raised her hips off her seat to allow me to pull her little black knickers down her thighs. She shifted her pelvis to the edge of the sofa and opened her legs wide and I finally pressed my mouth against her beautiful, soaking, pink and much photographed cunt.