Kendra Lust’s jewelry fell off, piece by piece. Her rings and earrings shook loose and skittered across the tile floor. Shards of lingerie hung free, ripped like wrapping paper. Her black panties and bra lay in a puddle on the floor and draped over the couch like dismembered shadows. Her eyeliner gathered in dark pools.
Something Lust said earlier echoed in my head.
“I feel like you need to be a lady,” Lust said as she sat in the makeup chair before the scene. “Even on a porn set I like to be a lady.”
Appearances are particularly important, especially in porn, though not always for the assumed reasons. I suspect many of Lust’s followers get off on watching such a put-together woman come undone, disassembled by those same base desires that possess us all.
* * *
“Are you ready for Kendra?” director Derek Dozer asked within minutes of Manuel Ferrara arriving on the set of Airerose Entertainment’s, "Legendary Players 2".
“Already?” Ferrara asked. “Yes, of course. I’m always ready. You’re just making this too easy for me.”
On a perfect porn set, Dozer would cut straight to fucking with zero fluff. He didn’t hire porn stars like Lust and Ferrara for their acting talents or their skills at answering behind-the-scenes interview questions. He chose them for their ability to perform, which he was eager to get to as quickly as possible.
Dozer kept the scene stripped down to preserve the intensity between Ferrara and Lust. As a result, the shoot ran as smoothly as a well-lubricated sex machine. Lust also made a concerted effort to keep herself primed for sex. Throughout the morning she kept revving up her pussy. Each time Dozer snapped photos of her, she moaned, “Oh yes” to keep her vocal cords warm for dirty talk and because these sounds shaped her expression into a sexy “O” face.
Dozer dressed Lust in basic black lingerie and Ferrara in jeans. He dragged a couch into the foyer and positioned it at the mouth of the main staircase. It was an impractical place for a couch, but this was less of a piece of furniture than a crash pad for sexual stunts. The stairs suggested more beyond, upstairs, just as the back windows hinted at the mountain-top pool an the expensive view of the valley below. Like Lust, the raw sexual energy was framed in elegance.
There would be no dry run or even a discussion of preferences. All was left in the hands of experience, spontaneity, and the will of the porno gods. That, and the pair already had history. Ferrara was the only cockstar Lust recognized by name before getting into porn, and he also appeared in her first boy/girl scene. In that encounter, he had expertly worked her into such a frenzy that he made her squirt, which she hadn’t even known she could do.
* * *
Lust spit on Ferrara’s uncircumcised cock as he fell back on the couch. She had spent the morning polishing off a liter of orange juice to activate her salivary glands just for this purpose.
“I love kissing and spit swapping,” she had said. “I like the connection. I don’t really need love. I like a guy who is confident, who can take me. A lot of foreplay, too. Pin me up against the wall and eat my pussy.”
Ferrara did not ask permission to please Lust. He possessed a preternatural sense for knowing what she wanted. He fingered her asshole and slapped her ass while she swallowed his cock. The white echo of each spanking shone from her ass before fading into a cloud of flesh turning as red as her lips.
Lust spit on her pussy, rubbed it in, then grabbed Ferrara’s cock and slid it inside. Craving more, she stuck her own finger in her ass. Dirty talk echoed their movements. The words became actions, provoking physical reactions.
“I’m a talker,” Lust said earlier when describing her first scene with Ferrara. “I have to talk filthy. It just comes out. I can’t help it. In our first scene I talked so much he covered my mouth at one point. It was hot.”
“Will you spit on it?” Lust asked Ferrara. “Please.”
He complied. Then Ferrara slid his spit-slickened cock between Lust’s mountainous chest.
“Is that why you have those big tits? Huh? So I can put my dick there? Huh?” Ferrara repeated. “Tell me," he said. "Tell me.”
“Yes,” she replied. "Yes."
“See how good you are?” Ferrara said. “You make that dick so fucking hard.”
Ferrara fucked Lust from behind as they stood at the bottom of the stairs. She gripped a loadbearing column and held one foot in the air in the standing splits.
Ferrara then bent Lust over the couch, her face braced against the seat cushions and her legs arched over her back.
“Come on. Tell them. Tell them what a whore you are. Tell them,” Ferrara commanded Lust as he held her face up to the camera.
“I’m a good fucking whore,” Lust said as she stared through Dozer’s lens.
Ferrara lay back on the couch so Lust could devour his cock again. He spanked her ass with the bottom of his feet. Every body part was incorporated, sexualized.
The repetition of movements and words built toward a conclusion. Lust ripped off a lingering piece of lingerie and tossed it aside to join what remained of her elegant ensemble.
* * *
“We can cut there for sex stills,” Dozer interrupted when he had more than enough content for a 20 minute scene. Ferrara and Lust continued fucking, their dialog of bodies and dirty talk unaltered by Dozer’s direction.
“I’d be doing the exact same thing,” Dozer told me as he stared, mesmerized by the scene. He would much rather have performers whose sexual chemistry overflowed a scene than the opposite. Ferrara held Lust close and whispered in her ear. She bit her lip then attacked Ferrara with an outpouring of energy.
“Sorry,” Ferrara finally said to Dozer, pulling out and gripping his dick as if to prevent it from slipping back inside Lust. “What did you say?” Dozer reminded the pair that they now had to take still photos for the box cover.
“Let me see how I look first,” Lust said, searching for her reflection in a framed mirror. “Yep. Fucked up. I look like I’ve been having sex. Perfect.” It seemed the point of her makeup was to be smeared by sex, to provide proof of the intensity of the scene, a visual of class turned to tasteful trash, of sophistication debased by desire.
* * *
Flashes of the scene played in my head as I wound down the long driveway. The estate gates shut behind my car with a clank. I continued down the mountain road until I merged onto the highway, joining the glinting vehicles streaming like a congested river of commerce along the valley floor. Stuck in transit, our collective fantasies wandered from the road, clawed their way up those cliffs, up to the mansions floating in the clouds above the valley. I recalled Lust standing beside the pool, on the edge of that vista as she posed for photos. The shadows cast by her curves fell far into the valley below. I knew what it meant to bask in the shadow of Kendra Lust’s ass, to take brief reprieves from reality with fantasies of what it might be like to inhabit one of those mountain-top mansions with Lust, if only for the afternoon.