Kandi's in love.  There's one little problem, though.  She has a secret-she's a porn star by day and a call girl by night.  How do you break that to your boyfriend?

This is the perfect Day After Velentine's Day gift!

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand-cut!”

God how I loved hearing that.  The shooting for the day was over.  In fact, my acting role was complete, so I could take a shower, collect my check, go to a restaurant I like and then go home and relax.  I gave my acting partner a peck on the cheek and headed for the locker room-such as it is.

The first thing I did was take off my wig and put in on the Styrofoam head I carry around with me.  Then I carefully put the wig and head into a tall reinforced cardboard box.  The wig cost a fortune and I don’t want anything to happen to it.  Fortunately, no one came on my precious wig during this shoot.

Oh-did I fail to mention that I’m a porn star?  Well, not a star perhaps, but I make pretty good money.  Over three hundred thousand in the past three years, and that’s for working about eight days a month.

I slid on my flip flops-you do not want to go into this shower barefoot, trust me-and washed the cum off my face, ass and back.  I really don’t know understand why the guys just can’t come in my mouth or pussy, but the directors want that cum shot.  Whatever.

I picked up my box by the carrying strap and sauntered into Bernie’s office.  Bernie-he’s the pay master and…how to I say…casting director.

“Kandi,” he said.  “Great shoot. Here’s your check-eight grand.  Be sure to pay you’re estimated taxes and-oh-your blood test is due.”

“Okay, Bernie,” I said.  “I’ll get it done tomorrow.”

“So…”

Oh, Jeez.  I knew where this was headed.  Bernie was going to want to fuck me.

“Bernie,” I sighed.  “I’ve been fucking for the past four days.  Give me a break.”

“But you know how I want you, Kandi.”  He was so whiny!  “You’re my favorite, too.  You know that.”

“I know, but…”

“I get it,” he said.  Here came the guilt trip.  “Fat old balding Bernie…”

“Okay, okay,” I groaned.  I lifted my mini, turned my back to him, dropped my panties, grabbed the edge of his desk and spread my legs.

It’s funny.  I mean, I like sex, but when someone is fucking me and I’m not into it, it’s like-ho hum.

“If you would do anal, honey,” Bernie said, “you could make a lot more money.”

“Uh huh, but I won’t.”

He spread my cheeks a little.  “But your ass hole is so perfect, so symmetrical, so tiny and so pink!  So many guys would…”

Was that comment supposed to excite me?  Please.  Besides, I've heard it so many times before.  “I’m not doing anal, Bernie.”  Jeez oh Pete!

“You feel so good, Kandi.”

It was getting boring, so I decided to go into my act.  “Oh, Bernie.  You’re so hard, so big.  Oh, Bernie, I love feeling your cock in me. Oh…oh…oh…”

Of course, when I do that, I get turned on, so the next thing you know, I’m on the verge of coming.  I reached between my legs and whispered, “Fuck me, Bernie.  Fuck me hard!”

He lost it.  I felt his cum pouring into me and, thank God, I was able to wiggle my way into orgasm before his prick faded.

I stood up, grabbed a tissue off his desk, wiped his cum away, pulled up my panties, lowered my mini and, after blowing him a kiss, walked out of his office.