Teaching Sherri
by Jade Blackmore
Copyright 2013
Sherri lie in the hotel bed and stared at the ceiling.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Her professors insisted they’d recommended her for the production assistant position on the basis of her work and her grades, not because she was the token female in her filmmaking program. At 25, she was few years older than her classmates and had a lot more real-life experience working on TV show, but they looked down on her because she was curvaceous blonde woman.
Even at her interview for the gig, she downplayed her looks and feigned innocence. Lucky for her, one of David's hippie assistants hired her, because if he’d interviewed her, all her professional decorum would have disintegrated.
“Why do you want to work on this project?”
“Because I want to fuck your brains out.”
His coal black hair and neatly-clipped beard, the dark eyes that pierced through her soul like a glass shard, then twinkled mischievously a split second later, the funny way he half-stuck out his tongue when he felt silly. It was bad enough to bring him coffee or go over minute details about a costume without propositioning him. Every day, every minute, she worked with him as a professional and thought of him like a whore looking at a conquest.
All she could think about the shoot and the way he looked how she wanted to fuck him right there and then. They’d fall into the backdrop and tear their clothes off, after the cameramen and actors and assistants had left for the day.
Why couldn’t everywhere else just disappear?
He’d look her over, staring directly at her his gaze going from head to toe and slightest of smiles across his face. Then, an actor or one of the other production assistants distracted him, and he’d return to work.
A knock on the door startled her from her fantasy. Still groggy from the room service beers, she stumbled out of bed. In her just showered nakedness, she grabbed a towel and ran to the door.
She looked through the peephole.
David stood there, wearing only a robe. He held two champagne flutes.
She opened the door a few inches, expecting to see a vacant hallway. She had to be hallucinating. David probably had a girlfriend, maybe they were married. She wasn’t sure. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Why wouldn’t he be married? He was perfect.
‘You didn’t really expect me to jump your bones on the set. You need to learn some manners, darling,”
But David stood there, barefoot, in a silk monogrammed bathrobe. His hair smelled fresh, like he too, had just stepped out of the shower.
“Take these,”
“Wait, I need to put a robe on,” She panicked at the realness of it.
“Oh don’t bother you won’t need it.” He pushed the door open and handed her the glasses.
“I’m just wearing mine as a formality. I don’t’ want to alarm any of the other guests that might walk by.”
He bent down to pick up a bottle of champagne from the hallway floor.
She stood stunned, watching him walk past her, the silk clinging to his perfect ass. He sat on her bed.
Sherri set the champagne flutes on the nightstand and picked up her towel, half-covering her breasts.
“Now drop that. You have beautiful breasts. Come over here and let me feel them.” He opened the bottle of champagne wedged between his thighs.The cork flew into the space underneath the desk.
“I got this from the wine store in Beverly Hills. Not Playboy Liquors, where the winos shop.”
Sherri giggled. “Hey!! The crew got their beer from Playboy Liquors.”
“My point exactly. But don’t tell them I said that,” David tweaked her nipple.
“Here, a toast to begin our night together.”
Sherri moved closer to him, stroking the hair on his chest.
“You can take my robe off, baby,”
She undid his belt, her hands shaking, her pussy to wet to let nerves get in the way. His voice, his laugh and the smell of his cologne were too much. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.
He poured champagne into their glasses.
“I’m here to teach you how to make love. It’s much more interesting than fucking,”
“Are you my Henry Higgins?”
“In a way, yes, my sweet Eliza, I mean Sherri,”
“I’m a fast learner,” She swept her hand down his long, lean chest hand to his cock, caressing it, admiring it, kissing it. Despite her best efforts, her hand still shook.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“Yes,”
“Why, darling, I’m not so scary,”
“You’re too perfect,”
“Oh now don’t flatter me like that. It’s not necessary. I’m already here. “
“Sit up there, honey, just like that,”
He put his hands on her waist and positioned her up against the headboard.
“You have a beautiful body. You need so much, more than most men can give.”
He parted her thighs and put his head down between her legs. Sherri squirmed at the feel of his beard against her thigh and on her pussy. He explored all the folds and crevices of her pussy, his tongue working like a serpentine charm along previously untouched flesh.
Her groans and cries turned to a torrent of cursing. She ran her fingers through his hair. “Yeah, baby, you eat me so good. So fuckin’ good…’
David lifted his head up, his beard glistening with her juices.
“Shh, thanks for the compliment, but you’re going to wake up the entire floor.”
He reached over to the lamp, slipping off one of the chiffon scarves she had placed on top of the shade.
“Feel it Sherri, just feel it. You don’t need to do a play by play. Try it for me -.just this once.”
She moved her head down and let him tie the scarf around her mouth. She bit into the scarf and he knelt between her spread thighs and continued eating her pussy.
At first, she couldn’t stop screaming her approval. No other man had quieted her; they all found her vocal histrionics rather amusing. She bit hard into the scarf, almost tearing it. Then she looked at his head bobbing between her legs and remembered what he had said.
Her screams faded into moans. David lifted his head up and gently slid two fingers inside her.
The radio on the nightstand played faintly, obscured by beer bottles and champagne flutes She reached over to turn it off.
“No, no, leave it on,” She turned the volume up.
The station played album sides late at night - one side of an LP, and tonight they were playing Avalon by Roxy Music.
“Now, you promise me you’ll give me those sweet, low moans I like, “
“Yes,David. I promise.”
He arched his neck and moaned. The strains of More Than This ebbed and flowed from the clock radio, the red numerals on the dial. And down she went with her mouth down his belly to his pubic hair to his beautiful cock. She kissed and sucked the divine and exquisitely shaped nine inches of bliss she’d dreamt about since she first saw him.
He straddled her, guiding his cock into her slick, anxious pussy. He leaned and kissed her, the sweet taste of their mouths and the champagne and her juices mingling
His long, slim body moved in time with the music, slowly building up and coaxing her into an orgasm. It cascaded through her body, from her pussy and throughout her very core.
They lie still, wrapped in each others’ arms. They were both out of breath, their panting drowning out the music on the radio. She picked up the champagne flutes from the nightstand and they drank.
“You astound me, Michael. I’ve never met anyone like you before,” She took a quick sip and then had to touch him again.
Sherri slow kissed his chest up to his Adams apple and then down again, blessing him chest with little nibbles.
She rubbed her face against his chin. Now used to the fuzziness of his beard against her skin, it aroused her as much his stare and his lips and his long, lean chest.
David radiated class and playfulness, two traits that contradicted each other in other people, but shone together to make his personality.
He made love to her when the others merely fucked her.
“I’ll see you at the set. Call time is eight a.m…” He kissed her eyelid, a little wet stab that set her alight.
“But it’s only one o clock. Can’t you sleep next to me for a few hours - isn’t that part of making love?”
“I can’t. I have to block shots for tomorrow. Time is money, money is time. You’ll learn that when you start directing.” He grabbed his robe off the edge of the bed and slipped it on.
“David, wait – you really think I could be a director?”
“In time, my dear, in time.” He kissed her forehead. “Jeff showed me some of your reel. It was very creative."
“Let me help you with the script, “She rubbed his thigh. “You know I’m a fast learner.”
“Not tonight. We’d distract each other too much. We’d go in to the shoot tomorrow with blank pages.”
“You’re right about that.” She conceded, They leaned into one last, long French kiss.
"Eight a.m. Maybe bring my coffee a little early and we can..talk before the actors get to the set," He winked at her.
And then he walked out the door.
She had slept with a real man and oh, what a man he was. She reached over and shut off the lamp.
Sherri hadn’t had that many, but all her lovers had been dirty boys. What they lacked in size and finesses, they made up for in sheer sluttiness. They offered her coke or pills and made her suck them off in a van or in some seedy motel room. Horny as she was, she went for it, and felt sated afterwards. She got laid. She came. And then it was over. She was empty vessel that needed to be filled again with another cock that wouldn’t fulfill her. A few minutes of lust and then the hunger returned
But with a man like David, the orgasm didn’t fade like a dying light. He fucked not only her body, but her mind, her soul, her heart. If she never loved him again, just this one encounter would fuel her for days, maybe even weeks.
He had turned her from a show biz slut to a woman, from beer and Black Sabbath to champagne and Roxy Music. She could get used to this.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Her professors insisted they’d recommended her for the production assistant position on the basis of her work and her grades, not because she was the token female in her filmmaking program. At 25, she was few years older than her classmates and had a lot more real-life experience working on TV show, but they looked down on her because she was curvaceous blonde woman.
Even at her interview for the gig, she downplayed her looks and feigned innocence. Lucky for her, one of David's hippie assistants hired her, because if he’d interviewed her, all her professional decorum would have disintegrated.
“Why do you want to work on this project?”
“Because I want to fuck your brains out.”
His coal black hair and neatly-clipped beard, the dark eyes that pierced through her soul like a glass shard, then twinkled mischievously a split second later, the funny way he half-stuck out his tongue when he felt silly. It was bad enough to bring him coffee or go over minute details about a costume without propositioning him. Every day, every minute, she worked with him as a professional and thought of him like a whore looking at a conquest.
All she could think about the shoot and the way he looked how she wanted to fuck him right there and then. They’d fall into the backdrop and tear their clothes off, after the cameramen and actors and assistants had left for the day.
Why couldn’t everywhere else just disappear?
He’d look her over, staring directly at her his gaze going from head to toe and slightest of smiles across his face. Then, an actor or one of the other production assistants distracted him, and he’d return to work.
A knock on the door startled her from her fantasy. Still groggy from the room service beers, she stumbled out of bed. In her just showered nakedness, she grabbed a towel and ran to the door.
She looked through the peephole.
David stood there, wearing only a robe. He held two champagne flutes.
She opened the door a few inches, expecting to see a vacant hallway. She had to be hallucinating. David probably had a girlfriend, maybe they were married. She wasn’t sure. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Why wouldn’t he be married? He was perfect.
‘You didn’t really expect me to jump your bones on the set. You need to learn some manners, darling,”
But David stood there, barefoot, in a silk monogrammed bathrobe. His hair smelled fresh, like he too, had just stepped out of the shower.
“Take these,”
“Wait, I need to put a robe on,” She panicked at the realness of it.
“Oh don’t bother you won’t need it.” He pushed the door open and handed her the glasses.
“I’m just wearing mine as a formality. I don’t’ want to alarm any of the other guests that might walk by.”
He bent down to pick up a bottle of champagne from the hallway floor.
She stood stunned, watching him walk past her, the silk clinging to his perfect ass. He sat on her bed.
Sherri set the champagne flutes on the nightstand and picked up her towel, half-covering her breasts.
“Now drop that. You have beautiful breasts. Come over here and let me feel them.” He opened the bottle of champagne wedged between his thighs.The cork flew into the space underneath the desk.
“I got this from the wine store in Beverly Hills. Not Playboy Liquors, where the winos shop.”
Sherri giggled. “Hey!! The crew got their beer from Playboy Liquors.”
“My point exactly. But don’t tell them I said that,” David tweaked her nipple.
“Here, a toast to begin our night together.”
Sherri moved closer to him, stroking the hair on his chest.
“You can take my robe off, baby,”
She undid his belt, her hands shaking, her pussy to wet to let nerves get in the way. His voice, his laugh and the smell of his cologne were too much. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.
He poured champagne into their glasses.
“I’m here to teach you how to make love. It’s much more interesting than fucking,”
“Are you my Henry Higgins?”
“In a way, yes, my sweet Eliza, I mean Sherri,”
“I’m a fast learner,” She swept her hand down his long, lean chest hand to his cock, caressing it, admiring it, kissing it. Despite her best efforts, her hand still shook.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“Yes,”
“Why, darling, I’m not so scary,”
“You’re too perfect,”
“Oh now don’t flatter me like that. It’s not necessary. I’m already here. “
“Sit up there, honey, just like that,”
He put his hands on her waist and positioned her up against the headboard.
“You have a beautiful body. You need so much, more than most men can give.”
He parted her thighs and put his head down between her legs. Sherri squirmed at the feel of his beard against her thigh and on her pussy. He explored all the folds and crevices of her pussy, his tongue working like a serpentine charm along previously untouched flesh.
Her groans and cries turned to a torrent of cursing. She ran her fingers through his hair. “Yeah, baby, you eat me so good. So fuckin’ good…’
David lifted his head up, his beard glistening with her juices.
“Shh, thanks for the compliment, but you’re going to wake up the entire floor.”
He reached over to the lamp, slipping off one of the chiffon scarves she had placed on top of the shade.
“Feel it Sherri, just feel it. You don’t need to do a play by play. Try it for me -.just this once.”
She moved her head down and let him tie the scarf around her mouth. She bit into the scarf and he knelt between her spread thighs and continued eating her pussy.
At first, she couldn’t stop screaming her approval. No other man had quieted her; they all found her vocal histrionics rather amusing. She bit hard into the scarf, almost tearing it. Then she looked at his head bobbing between her legs and remembered what he had said.
Her screams faded into moans. David lifted his head up and gently slid two fingers inside her.
The radio on the nightstand played faintly, obscured by beer bottles and champagne flutes She reached over to turn it off.
“No, no, leave it on,” She turned the volume up.
The station played album sides late at night - one side of an LP, and tonight they were playing Avalon by Roxy Music.
“Now, you promise me you’ll give me those sweet, low moans I like, “
“Yes,David. I promise.”
He arched his neck and moaned. The strains of More Than This ebbed and flowed from the clock radio, the red numerals on the dial. And down she went with her mouth down his belly to his pubic hair to his beautiful cock. She kissed and sucked the divine and exquisitely shaped nine inches of bliss she’d dreamt about since she first saw him.
He straddled her, guiding his cock into her slick, anxious pussy. He leaned and kissed her, the sweet taste of their mouths and the champagne and her juices mingling
His long, slim body moved in time with the music, slowly building up and coaxing her into an orgasm. It cascaded through her body, from her pussy and throughout her very core.
They lie still, wrapped in each others’ arms. They were both out of breath, their panting drowning out the music on the radio. She picked up the champagne flutes from the nightstand and they drank.
“You astound me, Michael. I’ve never met anyone like you before,” She took a quick sip and then had to touch him again.
Sherri slow kissed his chest up to his Adams apple and then down again, blessing him chest with little nibbles.
She rubbed her face against his chin. Now used to the fuzziness of his beard against her skin, it aroused her as much his stare and his lips and his long, lean chest.
David radiated class and playfulness, two traits that contradicted each other in other people, but shone together to make his personality.
He made love to her when the others merely fucked her.
“I’ll see you at the set. Call time is eight a.m…” He kissed her eyelid, a little wet stab that set her alight.
“But it’s only one o clock. Can’t you sleep next to me for a few hours - isn’t that part of making love?”
“I can’t. I have to block shots for tomorrow. Time is money, money is time. You’ll learn that when you start directing.” He grabbed his robe off the edge of the bed and slipped it on.
“David, wait – you really think I could be a director?”
“In time, my dear, in time.” He kissed her forehead. “Jeff showed me some of your reel. It was very creative."
“Let me help you with the script, “She rubbed his thigh. “You know I’m a fast learner.”
“Not tonight. We’d distract each other too much. We’d go in to the shoot tomorrow with blank pages.”
“You’re right about that.” She conceded, They leaned into one last, long French kiss.
"Eight a.m. Maybe bring my coffee a little early and we can..talk before the actors get to the set," He winked at her.
And then he walked out the door.
She had slept with a real man and oh, what a man he was. She reached over and shut off the lamp.
Sherri hadn’t had that many, but all her lovers had been dirty boys. What they lacked in size and finesses, they made up for in sheer sluttiness. They offered her coke or pills and made her suck them off in a van or in some seedy motel room. Horny as she was, she went for it, and felt sated afterwards. She got laid. She came. And then it was over. She was empty vessel that needed to be filled again with another cock that wouldn’t fulfill her. A few minutes of lust and then the hunger returned
But with a man like David, the orgasm didn’t fade like a dying light. He fucked not only her body, but her mind, her soul, her heart. If she never loved him again, just this one encounter would fuel her for days, maybe even weeks.
He had turned her from a show biz slut to a woman, from beer and Black Sabbath to champagne and Roxy Music. She could get used to this.