"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to the Hollywood Celebrity Entertainment Show. If you've just joined us, here's Joanne with today's biggest news story."

"Why, thank you, John. As you may have already heard, there are unconfirmed reports that two-time Academy Award winner and undoubtedly one of Hollywood's most successful actresses, Hailey Buchanan, has been leading a secret double life as Reddits' Beverly Hills Girl 90210. A fellow Redditor claims he has irrefutable proof that the Marvel superhero and Beverly Hills Girl 90210, are one and the same."

Turning to face another camera, Joanne looked like she was preparing to confide something personal to a special girlfriend. "Unfortunately," she said, "we're not allowed to show any pictures of Beverly Hills Girl 90210 here, firstly, because they're protected under Californian Copyright laws and secondly, images containing depictions of pornographic activity can only be shown after the watershed. And we don't need any trouble with the broadcasting authorities."

Joanne's thousand-watt smile of satisfaction almost melted the camera lens. Then the view cut back to the whole studio as both presenters beamed proudly at the camera before John inclined his head and spoke gravely. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is all we've got time for tonight. But, if you want more information on any of this week's top stories, don't hesitate to visit www dot hollycelebshow dot com and follow the links to the stars. Coming up next, your weekly dose of those four nerds and their attractive neighbour in the Big Bang Theor…"

"Fuck, you're a hypocritical bitch," I screamed, my hand shaking in rage as I pointed the remote control at the television.

As the screen turned black, the cabin of the Lear Jet fell silent. While cursing my stupidity, I gazed out of the small window and wondered how I would survive the oncoming storm of bad publicity. In the distance, a few stars twinkled, and my thoughts turned blacker than the darkening heavens while I fantasised about what I'd like to do to Joanne Woodford, a self-righteous, blonde airhead if ever there was one.

"At least when I expose myself, it's on my terms, Mrs Goody Fucking Two Shoes," I mumbled, biting on my knuckles to help contain my anger.

Mrs Joanne Woodford was just one of the many celebrities who became victims of the original 'fappenings' revelations. The series of homemade films and pictures stolen from Joanne's cloud had been nothing short of spectacular.

Rumours about Joanne's sex life had amused Hollywood for years, but no one had dared to speak up. The revelation of Hollywood's so-called moral compass being captured in numerous compromising situations had been front-page news for at least a week. If she found out who had blabbed, she could destroy a career as easily as breaking a twig, and she wouldn't think twice about her actions. So, having images on my computer screen of Joanne engaged in hardcore action was quite satisfying.

Anal, oral, watersports, and orgies were all there for everyone with an internet connection to see, and I wondered if Joanne Woodford's carnal appetites knew no bounds.

Judging by all the different cocks and pussies involved, one could easily be forgiven for thinking Joanne had long forsaken her marital vows to forgo all others. With so many 'facial' photos, she certainly believed in the nutritional benefits sperm provided for her skin. She certainly didn't mind sharing her body — and often, it seemed a case of more the merrier.

Be that as it may, because Joanne was the victim of hackers, the big wigs in showbiz land forgave her, and all in all, she came out of the whole affair smelling of roses. Of course, the humble apology she was forced to make on the show — providing the highest ratings in the history of Hollywood Celebrity Entertainment — didn't harm her case. Network bosses might be cold-hearted bastards, but even they knew not to kill the goose that had lain the golden egg. Happily, that was all a few years ago, and although Joanne's pictures are still floating around on the big wide web, there have been so many other scandals since then that nobody seems to care anymore. That was little comfort to me.

Although I hadn't addressed the recent accusations, Joanne and I both knew I was about to feature prominently in the latest "Hollywood scandal." 

oØo

After losing my virginity, sex captivated and aroused me, notably Hollywood's fascination with its female sex symbols. Racquel Walsh, Jane Fonda and Angie Dickinson, amongst others, were my role models. After turning eighteen, I solemnly informed my parents that I wanted to become one of Hollywood's leading ladies. Instead of insisting I "do something sensible" with my life, they helped me enlist at the Los Angeles School of Performing Arts and provided me with financial support during those early days. To this day, they are my biggest fans, and happily, I'm more than capable of repaying them for their financial support.

During my studies, I learned how to film love scenes — believe me, totally not romantic — and appear naked in front of the camera without being self-conscious. In fact, I enjoyed parading in front of the camera so much that I started modelling to help pay the bills. It wasn't my goal to become a full-time model, but some of the photoshoots, especially the Playboy centrefold sessions, helped me gain much publicity. The exposure led to my first auditions — and, in turn, introduced me to the casting couch.

Despite not being a wide-eyed virgin when I started auditioning, I was surprised at how often the casting couch was enforced. It soon became apparent that if I wanted to get ahead in Hollywood, spreading my legs was part of the price I'd have to pay.

Don't misunderstand me: I enjoy sex, always have done, but usually, it's consensual, not because a director wants to wield his power over me. However, I consented because I was young, inexperienced, and desperate. Like many young women in Hollywood, I did things I would come to regret.

For better or worse, I survived, and with age comes experience. While learning who and who not to sleep with, I also discovered something about myself: I was a born exhibitionist.

Of course, performing in public is intrinsic to one's craft as a serious actor, but there's a big difference between portraying a character in a movie and filming your sexual activities to display them on the internet. My kinky obsession grew during my studies. The modelling helped, but the biggest kick I got was when a character in a play needed to get naked. I always volunteered for that part and got it more often than not.

Although butterflies in my stomach usually did somersaults while I waited in the wings for the nude scene, once I was on stage, I couldn't believe how aroused I got knowing everyone in the audience couldn't take their eyes off me. A scene in one school play required me to masturbate while reading a love letter. Nobody could see what was happening beneath the bedclothes — but my aroused nipples poking against the cotton sheet were visible even in the back row.

After my last school play, I was invited to audition for the role that ultimately changed my life. I didn't know that the director Dan Matthews had come to see our production of The Postman Always Rings Twice and had watched me give it mine all during the scene where Cora and Frank consummate their adulterous affair. He thought my acting was inspiring, especially when Frank went down on Cora. His next project included similar scenes, and he immediately contacted my agent.

Dan was looking for a fresh face, an unknown, and he'd spent two years searching for the right actress. Having offered me the part, it took him another two years to get financial backing. It doesn't matter how successful a director is; movie studios will not risk millions on an unknown actress, although I'd appeared in a few movies by the time filming started.

Admittedly, most parts were what we in the trade call bikini scenes, but a couple more substantial roles got me noticed, and I was slowly gaining some acting credibility. The game-changer came when Matthews told Joe Thornton, his leading male, that I was a prime contender for the lead female. Joe said he would be in the film on one condition: the studio must cast me to play his love interest.

With Joe's backing, the studio capitulated — and the film was a critical and financial success. I even won an Oscar, and without filmgoers knowing it, I had one of the best sexual experiences of my life while filming with Joe.

We all know the rumours and innuendos used to promote films, especially about how the two leading actors did it while filming love scenes, but that's primarily fake news. However, in my case, it was true.

In each love scene, the sex was real. When Joe should have simulated screwing me, he didn't pretend. The moment his cock first slid inside me felt heavenly. And before Dan called a halt to the session, I had cum three times, and when I walked off the set, Joe's creamy spunk was trickling down the insides of my thighs. Happily, editing ensured the film wasn't banned, and Hailey Buchanan became a household name, significantly increasing my bank balance.

oØo

All in all, l shouldn't complain. I live an extraordinary life, one that many people might envy. When I'm not working, I go to my secret retreat on the Riviera and upload videos and photos to my Beverly Hills Girl 90210 blog. Until last week, not one of my loyal fans had suspected they were watching Hollywood superstar Hailey Buchanan performing extremely hardcore action for their pleasure. So, why did I do it, knowing the risks if anyone found out it was me on their screen?

Because I was bored!

Over the years, as my reputation grew, the film roles became predictable. I'd become a victim of my fame. The studios only wanted me for romantic comedies or action-packed blockbusters. Commercial success was almost guaranteed, especially if I showed some skin — but some films were dreadful artistically speaking. My A-list status had become a golden cage, and I was trapped inside.

Behaving naughtily in public places wasn't the answer either, trust me. Sucking cock while cruising down the highway or being fingered surreptitiously in an exclusive restaurant isn't an option if you're famous. The media backlash takes all the fun away when you get caught, and you always do.

Plus, I'm a performer and an artist, and like any self-respecting diva, I need an audience. Whether they're watching in a cinema or on their computer screen, it doesn't matter. The thought of people getting aroused by what I'm doing makes me cream my knickers every time.

Of course, I could have chosen porn, but it wasn't a real option, considering how much I had to lose artistically and financially. However, another opportunity presented itself quite by accident.

Filming in a remote mountainous area in Kazakhstan, the lack of decent hotels compelled the crew and cast to bivouac next to the set. Despite sounding primitive, it wasn't that bad, and after the first few days, the whole situation felt like a big family camping trip. I wasn't the only female on location, but I was the only A-listed female star, which accorded me some respect on and off the set. Happily, my status and, more importantly, my trailer afforded me the privacy I wanted.

That's when I discovered Tumblr.

Browsing through the blogs, I was amazed at the diversity of interests and hobbies people promoted. I even saw pictures of myself on a blog dedicated to naked celebrities. The more I delved into the content, it became apparent that many people used the site to express their sexuality.

Nudism, masochism, Troilism, cuckoldism and fellatorism — in fact, every kind of sexual 'ism' out there, including my favourite exhibitionism, was available. Predominantly soft porn or erotica, some had more hardcore content.

After about a week of viewing, fantasising, and masturbating to some incredibly arousing blogs, I wondered if I could create my own. I knew it wouldn't be easy to do it anonymously — but that was the challenge.

Following a few days of contemplation, I created a blog, my heartbeat racing as I filled in my details. Choosing my profile name proved harder than I anticipated, and unable to think of anything prosaic, I settled for Beverly Hills Girl 90210. Then, after a couple of stiff drinks, I posted my first NSFW pictures. I had to wait for the first reaction, but I was hooked after reading the kind words, What a gorgeous bum, would love to see it naked.

For my next post, I decided to be a little naughtier. Facing away from a mirror, I slipped my thumb into the waistband of my panties and pushed downwards. Seconds later, I took the picture, and after checking that nothing was recognisable, I uploaded the photo and waited.

Beverly Hills Girl 90210, you are a delightful tease. I'd love to run my tongue down your crack. Show me more.

And so it went on.

During my time in Kazakhstan, I practised my craft. As a former model, I knew what people wanted to see, but my efforts needed a lot of improvement on the technical side. Luckily, some very talented people worked on the film and their willingness to teach me the tricks of their trade helped me enormously.

By the time I returned from location, I had graduated from titillating semi-clothed to full nudity. Not vulgar, but definitely softcore, and the number of followers increased to more than three thousand. Back in the privacy of my home, I couldn't wait to continue my new hobby.

Taking erotic photos of myself and posting them on the internet should have been easy, but nothing was further from the truth. When taking pictures, there was always something personal in the background I'd forgotten to remove. A unique item of furniture, or art on a wall, would betray my identity to someone who knew me.

I had to curtail my blog sessions while I worked out a solution. But I underestimated how much I missed the adrenaline buzz. Despair set in. Happily, a trip to Canada provided salvation. 

I hadn't planned to attend The Toronto International Film Festival, but a girlfriend asked me to accompany her to the premiere of her debut film. Guessing she wanted a famous face to help promote her movie, I agreed and then nearly wore out my fingers trying to book a hotel room.

Getting a suite in an exclusive Toronto hotel should have been easy for one of Hollywood's rich and famous, but with an expected four hundred thousand visitors, there wasn't even a broom cupboard to rent. Eventually, I got lucky. The Holiday Inn near Toronto International Airport received a cancellation while I was on the line and immediately offered it to me.

oØo

I was in my hotel room, contemplating my blogging dilemma and absently regarding the basic accommodation when… Eureka! Guessing that all the bedrooms in international chain hotels were basically identical, I'd found the perfect solution. There were no personal belongings to give away my identity.

I started getting aroused. With nothing to do but wait until I had to go to the Bell Lightbox and Festival Tower, I decided to put my theory to the test. And, wanting to push the limits, I aimed to go hardcore.

Because my blogging equipment was at home, I needed to improvise. But, with the afternoon sun illuminating my body, I knew it would work. Using my phone, I filmed airport shots, capturing my obscured reflection in the window before walking back towards the bed. 

Pretending to be a woman overnighting for a business trip and missing her lover, I moved in front of a mirror and started my narrative.

"Darling, I know I've only been gone three hours, but I'm missing you already." I panned the smartphone down my clothed body. "My flight was cancelled, Darling, and now I'm all alone in my hotel room." Then I recorded the bland interior. "It's so boring here, and I'm so horny; I miss your kisses already, the way your lips move up and down the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. How your hands crush my titties, and your cock pushes into my ass when you hold me. Do you want to see my nipples, Darling? Want to see how much they're missing you?"

The white lace bra inside my open satin blouse wasn't my sluttiest lingerie, but the contrast against my richly-tanned skin was sexy enough for my goal. Reaching inside, I held my breath as the soft fabric rumpled lightly when my fingers touched my erect nipples. Unable to restrain my lust any longer, I flicked off my blouse, and as it fell to the floor, I studied my half-naked form in the tall mirror.

The anticipation of what I was about to film made it difficult to concentrate. With fingers trembling from excitement, I reached behind my back and flipped the clasp. For my own pleasure and the viewers, I pinched my nipples hard, moaning loudly as I did. I kept this up for a while, each pinch, squeeze and caress adding fuel to the blazing inferno between my legs.

"Arrrgh, I miss you so much." I hoped the sultry tone conveyed my pleasure. 

Despite the hot blood coursing through my veins, my unwillingness to show my face somewhat curtailed my enjoyment of this exciting endeavour. 

"I'm so wet, Darling," I whispered and used a move employed by almost every erotic filmmaker — I turned my back to the mirror and bent over. Slowly raising my skirt over my hips, I revealed my bum and then the wet, plump bulge between my thighs. 

With the bright sunlight shining through the window, the discolouring in my white lace panties was distinctly visible. 

"Can you see how wet she is, Darling, how much she misses you?" I whispered huskily, tracing the outline of my slippery opening with a manicured finger. Talking about my sex in the third person while I caressed my soaked gusset gave the whole experience a new dimension and made it feel like more than one person was involved.

"Can you see how much she wants you to kiss her?" I demanded, sliding my fingers alongside my swollen labia. "You know she loves your kisses, the way your lips caress hers, and the way your tongue licks up her honey," I purred, continuing my narrative.

And, for the first time since starting my blog, my followers saw me pull my panties aside and push fingers between my slick pussy lips. Juices immediately trickled down my hand, and unable to contain my arousal, I curled my fingers and began furiously to frig my cunt, desperate for that bittersweet moment that has inspired artists and philosophers throughout the aeons.

It wasn't just the physical aspect spurring me on. Mental images of my followers surrounding me while I touched myself drove me forward. I closed my eyes and imagined many rock-hard cocks, all being stroked, as I rammed my fingers deep inside. My moans matched the unrestrained hand movements between my thighs, and familiar stomach cramps urged me towards the sweet oblivion. A few more seconds was all I needed.

Rubbing my clit, I envisioned hundreds of strong hands rapidly tugging at the smooth, supple skin covering their unbridled hardness until hot, creamy spunk flew from the glistening domes and landed on my wanton body.

That thought was enough to spark my finale. I came gloriously, ramming my fingers furiously into my steaming hot sex and screaming like a banshee.

oØo

I was surprised by how vivid and explicit the video was when I uploaded the edited version. Considering I'd used a smartphone to record my depravity, I thought the quality was high as I watched the film and waited for a reaction.

Fucking hell, you sexy bitch. I loved seeing you cum like that. Do it again soon.

That was the opening comment, but like lemmings following each other over a cliff, more and more appeared on my screen. I held my breath and read every post. There wasn't a single negative response, and quite a few remarks caused me to blush, something that had never happened in my film career. Then again, I'd never shown anything quite explicit on-screen before.

That first hardcore experience proved addictive. Over the next few months, I grew bolder. Usually, I would film myself undressing, only stopping when I was either completely naked or in sexy underwear. Then I'd masturbate to an earth-shattering climax. 

Sometimes instead of just using my fingers, I would employ some sex toys I'd acquired online, and my followers discovered just how dirty I could be.

oØo

Although recording these videos was exciting, editing wasn't. To avoid recognition, I usually had to discard lots of good footage, especially if I hadn't been careful with the camera, which happened more than I wanted and was very frustrating. 

I could have tried using the pixelating tool to ensure I remained incognito, but my skill with this tool left much to be desired. After several attempts, I usually ended up chucking the film anyway. So when I finally finished the editing, the actual movie was considerably shorter than I had conceived. However, the results were worth all the hard work and my popularity grew, especially after going hardcore. But there was a downside to all this adulation.

Followers are fickle creatures, and when I released another movie, the initial peak of interest only lasted a few hours before the attraction began to wane. 

You see, I thrived on feedback from my audiences, and I realised that I'd have to take more risks if I wanted more reactions.

oØo

Wandering through Central Park and taking selfies for my Instagram account, I realised there might be an opportunity for Beverly Hills Girl 90210 here. Checking to ensure nobody was looking, I undid my coat and blouse and flashed my bra with the New York skyline visible in the shot.

Despite the sheer camisole top, the resulting photo, although suggestive, couldn't be called 'NSFW.' Disappointed but determined to do better, I found a secluded spot and removed the offending garment. Returning to where I'd taken the photo, my nipples rubbed against the soft satin blouse, the friction making them rise to the occasion. Seconds later, with my blouse hanging open and the New York skyline in the background, I took a couple of selfies.

Minutes later, I realised that if I posted some of the earlier photos on Instagram and these raunchy images on my Tumblr blog, I could land in a sticky mess — and not in a good way. Imagine the storm of undesirable publicity if an Instagram follower pointed out that Hailey Buchanan was wearing the same clothes as Beverly Hills Girl 90210, who was flashing her tits in Central Park. The possibility of an Instagram follower also being a follower of Beverly Hills Girl 90210 was real and one I couldn't ignore.

I had a choice: remain as Hailey Buchanan and stop Beverly Hills Girl. Or vice versa.

After a moment's contemplation, I decided if my alter ego was going to expose herself in New York, then she'd better do it properly. Making sure nobody was close enough to recognise me, I unbuttoned the lower buttons of my skirt and took a selfie of my lace knickers. Then, after checking to see if I was still alone, I removed my underwear.

Feeling the warm autumn breeze waft across my landing strip was tremendously exhilarating, and I had to exert enormous willpower to stop slipping a couple of fingers into my juicy slit.

As things go, the New York photo series was one of the most popular items on Beverly Hills Girl 90210's blog and helped me reach a personal target of ten thousand followers. Wanting more, my next performance would have to be something special.

I'd been thinking about posting a video of me having sex for some time. Many followers wanted to see me getting laid, but making such a video wasn't going to be easy. I certainly couldn't ask my regular boyfriend to take part. Although adorable — and I love him to bits — he's straight-laced and conventional regarding sex. He would never accept me using a camera in our bedroom. And arranging a quickie at one of Hollywood's infamous parties wasn't the answer either.

However satisfying an illicit fuck with the right guy might be, I couldn't control and direct what was happening. So, I needed to find someone who would be happy to appear in my kinky adventure while asking no questions. 

Enter Mr Jack Howler.

oØo

Jack, a great actor and a good friend, we had worked together in a few movies. Also, because he was married, he wouldn't be interested in an affair, but being such an outrageous flirt, he might have been up for a one-night stand. 

I believed he considered flirting to be harmless fun, which it always was, but since we'd last worked together, Beverly Hills Girl 90210 had become essential in my life, and this time, when Jack flirted, my response was different.

On location, the banter gradually grew more sexually charged, and although he was initially shocked, after a few days of working together, I felt sure Jack would take the bait. On set, I behaved. But, when we were alone, I ensured Jack knew I was his for the taking.

It almost happened one evening in South Africa after we'd had too much to drink. But, when we started getting hot and heavy on the taxi ride to the hotel, Jack backed down, probably his conscience getting the better of him. Frustrated but undeterred, I continued my not-so-subtle campaign, and, in London, Jack finally succumbed.

We'd spent a week shooting in the legendary city, and on our last day, the director invited the crew and cast to join him for dinner in a famous restaurant. It was my last chance to entrap Jack, and I returned to my hotel suite to make preparations.

My dress was sassy red, off the shoulder, mid-thigh length with a split down the middle. I had to be careful when sitting, but it exposed just the right amount of bare flesh without being too slutty when I walked. I'd arranged to meet Jack in the hotel lobby, but he was waiting for me at the lift. As I approached, I saw him staring at my thighs as they appeared and disappeared from view. He seemed entranced.

"Damn, Hailey, you look hot," he said, reaching to press the lift button." Jesus, you're going to give every man in the restaurant a hard-on when they see you."

"Does it give you a hard-on, Jack?" I asked in my sexiest husky tone.

His eyes widened, and I provoked him some more. Pressing my beautifully made-up lips to his ear, I spoke softly. "What I'm not wearing beneath this is much more exciting, Jack," and playfully did a twirl.

I couldn't see his expression with my back to him, but knowing him, I knew he was staring at my bum. When I faced him again, he gazed unashamedly at my bouncing breasts. Recovering admirably, he looked me in the eye and was about to speak when the elevator doors opened. That silenced him, but the lust in his eyes betrayed him.

I glanced at the two women waiting in the lift and, smiling seductively, told my co-star, "I'm warning you, Jack, what we started in Johannesburg, I intend finishing tonight."

Before he could reply, I entered the lift, nodding at the waiting ladies.

Jack stood for a second, taking in my words; his expression was priceless. Realising he couldn't say anything without giving himself or his lust away, his mouth fell open. Our Jack is not a good poker player, but I could forgive him.

"Come on, Jack, close your mouth, you're catching flies," I teased, much to the amusement of the other ladies.

The bittersweet feeling of being together for the last time was evident at the restaurant, and the alcohol flowed freely, loosening inhibitions. Making sure I was seated next to Jack, I started misbehaving while the waitress took our orders. Jack happily reciprocated my teasing, and his hand disappeared beneath my dress during dinner.

I'd actually gone easy on the alcohol, but I'm an actress and an immensely talented one. As we left the restaurant, I leaned heavily on Jack's shoulder, and to everyone watching, it appeared I had consumed more wine than was good for me, and Jack, behaving like a true gentleman, was helping me back to the hotel.

However, in the taxi, I virtually launched myself at him. Our tongues duelled intimately while we both reached for the other's groin. Rubbing his flies, it was pleasing to feel his bulge growing to such an extent that when we arrived at the hotel, t took him a few seconds to adjust his appearance before exiting the vehicle.

In the empty lift, I managed to free Little Jack from the confines of his trousers. Little Jack was surprisingly significant and, unsurprisingly, wonderfully hard.

"Do you know what turns me on?" I gasped between passionate kisses while stroking Jack's swollen flesh.

"Uh-huh," he said, his hands trying to make bread with my buttocks. I was about to tell him when the familiar ping indicated we'd reached our flour. I waited for the doors to open and then whispered in his ear. Without waiting for a reaction, I disengaged from his embrace and left him staring at my retreating figure. 

Either Jack hadn't believed what I'd whispered or thought he'd misheard me because as I stepped inside my suite, he threw his arms around me, hands reaching for my breasts.

"You crack me up with your jokes, Hailey," he said, his fingers seeking my erect nipples. Then he kissed the back of my shoulders, a surefire way of getting me out of my sexy knickers, and I needed to clarify the situation.

"I'm serious, lover," I said, pushing my bum into his crotch. It was gratifying to find his hardness hadn't waned because of my kinky announcement. "I really do want to film you fucking me."

There was a moment of silence until Jack, sounding like a thirsty desert traveller, asked," Are you serious?" and pulled me against his solid body.

"Your call, Jack," I said, "but, whatever you do, close the bloody door. We don't need any Peeping Toms witnessing what I'm about to do next."

oØo

Reaching to untie the strap behind my neck, I took a deep breath and released the sliver of red fabric. I watched the front of my dress fall from my chest, covering the strong hands teasing my breasts.

"Does this make your decision any easier?" I whispered, placing my hands on top of Jack's.

"Jesus, Hailey, you're fucking beautiful," Jack breathed. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."

"And I'm all yours tonight, Mr Jack Howler... if you want me."

Easing out of his arms, I walked gracefully towards the bedroom. I turned to face Jack at the doorway, determined to reel him in, and slowly pushed the dress over my hips, allowing it to fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow as he stared at the small triangle of lace, the last remnant of decency, I knew he wouldn't leave.

When I reached my bed, I picked up my selfie stick and deftly installed my phone onto it. Switching on the video camera, I pointed the device at Jack. His rugged good looks appeared on the screen and sent a shiver down my spine. I was about to say, "Come over here, Jack," when a niggling detail made me stop.

"Before we start, there's a couple of conditions. We can't use names. Call me anything you like — slag, bitch, whore, even your anal fuck slut, if you want. But no Night Hunter, no Miss Buchanan, and definitely no Hailey. Understand?"

After a slight pause, he nodded.

"Secondly, I'm in charge, so you will do what I say. Is that clear?"

There was another moment of hesitation, but his wolfish smile told me enough.

"Good," I said, a little more harshly than intended. "Now, get on your hands and knees and crawl over here, you gorgeous fucking shit. I'm so horny, I need you to do something about it."

To emphasise the point, I slipped my free hand inside my panties and rubbed my clit in the small circular motion that always got me wet. Despite Jack's apparent unease at being ordered around, his gaze on my crotch and the growing lump in his trousers told me enough.

Unable to restrain my lust, I slid my fingers into my silken tunnel, covering them with sweet nectar. Then, wanting to blow Jack's mind, I raised my sticky fingers to my mouth and cleaned them one by one.

With a sudden burst of energy, Jack threw his coat to the carpet and obediently dropped to his knees. Crawling across the floor, his gaze never wavered from my soaking panties. I watched through the smartphone's screen as he kneeled in front of me, his face so close to my soft apex that his heavy breathing wafted over the top of my glistening thighs.

"You know what you have to do, stud." I moved the camera to get a profile shot of my handsome co-star. "It's not every day little ole me gets her pussy licked by you. In fact, it will probably never happen again and I want a permanent reminder."

For a split second, Jack's expression changed. I wondered if he was having second thoughts. "Don't worry, darling," I purred, "I'm not out to destroy your marriage; I'm just a kinky bitch who doesn't want to go to bed alone tonight."

I licked my top lip, and before I realised what was happening, his tongue pressed against the lace covering my sex. Automatically, I pulled his head against my crotch, entwining my fingers in his short hair while feeling him grasp my thighs. A second later, I felt his tongue splitting open my slippery labia as far as possible, searching for my dripping hole. Knowing he could smell and taste my lust through my sheer panties, I ground my sex into his face.

Jack hooked his fingers into my underwear, and I heard a tearing sound: my panties went loose. I squealed in delight as my co-star tossed the ruined panties aside, and I felt his tongue flicking between my delicate folds. I sucked in a deep breath and spread my legs, pointing the phone at Jack's head and urging him to make me cum.

Hearing and feeling Jack hungrily slurping my salty-sweet juices created familiar stirrings in my abdomen. Moaning, I twisted my fingers tighter in his hair and had to bite my lip when his tongue flicked over my swollen clit. The waves of pleasure washing over me grew ever more potent, and I had to concentrate hard to stop my legs from buckling.

"Hmm, you taste so good, you fucking slut," Jack mumbled before sticking his tongue deeper into my honey pot.

He resumed his attack with more vigour, and my stomach cramped as it does when I'm about to cum., I thrust forward, grinding harder into his face, feeling his tongue dancing inside me. Then Jack's lips enveloped my swollen clit, and while his warm breath wafted across my trimmed bush, the horny bastard slipped two fingers inside me.

Squirming wildly and groaning loudly, I clutched his head and climaxed.

The orgasm was intense, the best I'd had for a long time, and I didn't want the moment to end. But Jack, having made me cum once, seemed intent on making me cum again and continued his efforts until, barely able to stand, I had to push him away.

Seeing his handsome face covered in my juices combined with his huge satanic grin, it was clear that he was enjoying the moment. Wanting to return the favour, I handed Jack the selfie stick and tugged at his shirt, urging him to stand.

"I never realised you had such a talented tongue, sweetie," I giggled before kissing him. While our tongues fought for supremacy, the scent of my cum filled my nostrils, and I broke off the kiss. Licking his glistening jaw, I made a promise. "Now it's your turn."

Jack began unbuttoning his shirt, but I wasn't having that. It's not every day I get the chance to undress one of Hollywood's most handsome hunks, and after slapping his hand away, I tutted and waggled a finger in his face. "You, my lovely fuckable friend, will stand there and film me stripping you. Then I will suck all that lovely spunk from those big balls."

Jack raised his eyebrows, a mischievous grin decorating his face. "You can try, you dirty bitch," he answered, pretending to throw a gauntlet to the ground. I slowly unbuttoned his shirt and was surprised to discover that Jack didn't have chest hair. While I undressed him, Jack reached for my breasts, finding my firm nipples effortlessly, and when I started unzipping his flies, he pinched them hard. That forced me to catch my breath but didn't deter me from my goal.

"I need some dick," I said, easing a hand inside his flies and enclosing my fingers around his warm flesh. "Do you always go commando or was this especially for me?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he replied, moving his hands from my chest to my ass.

"Uh-huh, I'm in charge," I said, twisting from his grasp. "Just make sure you keep filming me," I ordered, dropping to my knees and jerking his pants down to his ankles in one smooth motion. A muted whimper escaped my lips as his erection sprung forward, swatting against my cheek before I could pull my head back.

"Nice cock," I sighed and meant it. The absence of pubic hair momentarily surprised me, but I liked what I saw. Not wanting to waste another minute, I spat into the palm of my hand and wrapped my fingers around the long, thick shaft. The smooth skin moved without resistance as I stroked Little Jack before moving my mouth towards the glistening dome.

Hearing my co-star moan as my lips enveloped the tip of his manhood was a massive turn-on, and as I swirled my tongue around the mushroom-shaped helmet, I felt Jack gently grasp the back of my head. Anticipating his next move, I relaxed my jaw, and without another word, Jack thrust his hips, and his prick surged into my throat.

As my lips encompassed the base of Jack's manhood, it occurred to me that I missed the pubic hair tickling my nose, something that happens regularly in my everyday life. Still, I soon got used to it, and resting my hands on Jack's buttocks, I controlled his movements. Despite the gentle start, Jack's lust rose, and his thrusting became more vigorous. How long would it take him to fill my mouth with cum?

Although I was determined to film Jack fucking me, watching him pound my mouth until he was ready to shoot his load over my face and tits also had its appeal. Then, thinking about my follower's reactions when they saw Jack's spunk covering my body, my spine tingled. I couldn't see it, but I was sure my nectar was staining the carpet between my knees.

Ensuring the phone was still pointing in the right direction, I released Jack's cock from my mouth and, looking directly into the lens, grabbed his greasy pole and wanked him hard.

"C'mon you bastard, spray me with cum," I ordered and quickened my jerking.

"You, you fucking bitch, I'm gonna c-c-cum," he mumbled while his manhood expanded.

"Do it, stud—cum all over me."

Even though I was expecting it, the first expulsion surprised me. A long string of spunk splashed my neck and chin before another groan warned me that his balls weren't empty. Looking up at his tortured grimace, I braced myself for the next load.

I thought I'd aimed Jack's cock at my chest, but there was more power in his subsequent expulsion, and a massive glob of spunk landed on my cheek. As the hot, thick cream slid down my face, I pouted, realising this footage could never be used. Happily, Jack's orgasm wasn't over, and the subsequent expulsions sprayed cum exactly where I needed it. As the last drop of spunk oozed from him, I put an arm under my glazed breasts and raised them towards Jack's glistening dome. With the phone still pointing at my chest, I rubbed Jack's helmet over my erect nipples.

"Fucking hell, Hailey, you're one fucking dirty bitch."

"No names," I reminded him and continued fondling his wilting flesh. "Anyway, I'm only just getting started."

"God, I didn't realise you were such an insatiable cock sucker."

"I'm just making sure you keep up your end of the bargain," I said, putting his member between my smeared cherry-red lips. Dancing my tongue across the sensitive spot beneath the head, I thought how gratifying it is for a woman to feel a semi-flaccid cock rapidly thicken between her lips.

Jack was rock solid in seconds and began thrusting his hips again. Matching his movements, I allowed a small portion of his cock to enter my mouth while using a hand in a delicious twisting motion on the remaining portion of his shaft. Jack tightened his grip on my hair and thrust his erection deeper into my mouth, but I pulled back and tutted.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I'll let you cum when I'm good and ready. First, you're gonna have to give mama what she wants, and you know what that is."

A grin and nodding head answered my question. "I never knew you were so kinky, Hailey," Jack said, again forgetting the no-name condition. When he realised his faux pas, he looked mortified. 'Sorry,' he mouthed.

I didn't mind him calling me Hailey — I'd expected it and only imposed the rule because editing the soundtrack would be tedious if we continually spoke our names during the throes of passion.

To reassure him that I wasn't angry or disappointed, I pushed Jack onto the bed and climbed on top. After placing the selfie stick alongside, I grasped his head and kissed him hard, driving my tongue deep into his mouth while grinding against his erection.

"Can you feel how wet I am?" I groaned while Jack fondled my buttocks. Then a strong finger pressed against my anus, prompting a low feral growl from my lips. "I want you inside me; now," I said, reaching between our sweaty bodies to guide his cock to my juicy slit. Then I sank onto his throbbing meat.

"Oooh, that feels so fucking good," I moaned as Jack filled both holes with cock and fingers.

"I've waited a long time for this, you bitch," Jack exclaimed, slapping my ass for good measure. "This is all I've thought about since South Africa, and I'm not going to waste my chance." His pelvis smashed into my soft apex as if to reinforce his statement.

"Yes, fuck me, you bastard. Fuck me hard and make me scream."

I squealed when he withdrew his rigid manhood — but Jack thrust his hips upward again, and his thick cock invaded my cunt. Determined to give as good as I got, I squeezed my abdominal muscles around his pulsating flesh.

"Jesus, your cunt's tight. I'm gonna enjoy making you scream, bitch," he said, adding another stinging slap on my ass. And so the battle commenced.

I'm in good shape, but I could not compete with Jack. Despite being referred to as a mere thespian, his body could compete with many professional athletes. And it wasn't just for show; there was power to back up the eye candy. He reminded me of a big cat: lovely to look at and admire but best kept at a distance. His lazy demeanour could fool anybody.

Because I was straddling him, Jack couldn't move, and his exasperated expression grew more intense when I teased him with a beaming smile of superiority. That clearly irritated him. He cupped my ass in his big strong hands and tilted me high enough to create room to manoeuvre. Then my super stud lived up to his name by jackhammering his cock into me. With every forceful thrust, I let out a series of cries, moans, and screams that wouldn't have been out of place in a lady's tennis final at Wimbledon.

Within seconds I felt the familiar stomach cramps as my body responded to this pounding. As I gleefully anticipated another mind-blowing orgasm, Jack spoilt it all. With a flick of his hips, Jack rolled us over, reversing our positions. One moment I was bracing myself for a climax; the next, I was on my back, legs spread wide — but no (Little Jack) in me. The worst few seconds of my life.

Offering a smile that would have made the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow proud, he looked down at me and winked. "Just showing you who's really in charge here, you gorgeous slut."

I didn't really mind being outsmarted. I was sure Jack would fuck me harder in this position when he got going again.

"Now, where's that fucking camera?" he demanded.

Pointing the phone at me, his grin widened. "You can watch yourself being fucked," he said, lifting my calves over his shoulders and prodding his cock against my slippery opening.

Unable to contain my impatience, I reached between to insert his erection. "C'mon, you big pricked bastard, make me scream."

I stared at the phone and bit my top lip as Jack slammed into me and didn't stop until his cock was buried entirely inside my hot juicy snatch.

"Don't forget to film yourself pounding my cunt," I urged as Jack started to pull back. "I want a close-up of your cock inside me." Realising my demand was almost a physical impossibility for him, I gestured for Jack to give me the phone.

I stared at the screen as Jack plunged up and down my dripping pussy. I even marvelled at the film quality in the soft lighting of the bedroom. Thrust after thrust, his long thick cock filled, stretched, and vacated my silken sheath. Every stroke brought me closer to my second orgasm of the evening. I could hardly wait.

Amazingly, Jack kept up a barrage of surprisingly and welcome filthy language through it all. Although sex at home is satisfying, it's certainly not what I'd call raucous or kinky, and hearing something like, "Are you enjoying my big prick, slut?" is a definite no, no. Usually, I don't need dirty talk to enjoy sex, but hearing Jack saying things like, "I'm gonna make you cum all over my cock," intensified the situation.

Then I came, loud and violently.

I'm not much of a screamer during sex, but with Jack's cock wreaking havoc between my legs, I'm surprised the receptionist in the lobby didn't hear my cries.

And through it all — the wanton cries, uncontrollable shaking, and sharp nails clawing his back as I toppled into the orgasmic abyss — Jack kept ploughing my furrow as if his life depended on it. 

He finally slowed his pace when I calmed, coming back down to earth, and we lay panting. Yet, feeling his hardness still throbbing inside me, I decided to take a chance.

I raised my eyebrows and smiled at him. "Would you like to put that someplace else, stud?"

"What do you have in mind, slut?"

"Let me get on all fours and I'll show you."

"Are you fucking serious?" he croaked.

I nodded eagerly, pushed him off me, and knelt before him. I grabbed his hardness and gave it a few tugs while we kissed.

"You're sure this is what you want?" his hesitation endearing.

Looking at his handsome face, I saw the lust in his eyes. "Hell yes," I replied, the desperation in my voice more convincing than the words. And, before he could respond, I turned and positioned myself, ass up and face down. Reaching to ease my buttocks apart, I issued final instructions. "Don't forget to film us and don't hold back. Treat me like the anal whore I am."

"My wife thinks it's disgusting," he murmured as he pressed his cock against my twitching back entrance. Then warm saliva splattered against my opening, and after smearing my asshole and his spongy dome, Jack eased past my sphincter.

"Fuck, this is so horny," he sniggered.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw him looking avidly at the screen. Feeling his rigid flesh gradually slide inside me, I gritted my teeth. Anal whore I might be, but Jack's cock was the most significant thing to enter back there for a very long time. When his pelvis pressed against my buttocks, I grinned. Jack's vast organ was buried deep inside me.

"Yesss," I hissed, tensing my abdominal muscles. Hearing Jack groan was highly pleasing. "Fuck me, Jack, fuck my dirty fucking ass. Make me your anal bitch."

Jack's fingers dug into my hips as he ground against my bum. "Oh God, don't stop," I cried after an intense thrust. Although he didn't say anything, the heavy grunting and forceful strokes didn't disappoint me. "This feels so good. Am I your anal slut, Jack?" I groaned, forgetting my no-name dictate.

"Seeing your asshole grip my cock is so fucking hot. I'll make you my bitch," he said, reaming my asshole like a man possessed.

Stretching back, I put a hand on a firm, manly buttock and pulled it forward. "Give it to me, stud, fill my ass with your cream."

"Jesus, I'm gonna fill your ass, slut. I'm gonna shoot my load all over your ass and make you mine," he blurted between animal-like grunts before holding me tighter and ramming into me. "I'm gonna cum," he gasped, urgently pressing into me.

"Don't stop," I croaked, clenching the bedsheets as Jack's shaft pulsated inside my back passage. Anal sex is an exception more than the rule for me and wanting to enjoy every second before Jack's climax, I instinctively thrust my backside against his rigid body.

I felt his shaft swell and roar triumphantly; my co-star shot a load deep into my ass. Jack continued filling my passage, scorching my insides before remembering my instructions. "I'm gonna cum all over your ass, slut," he bellowed, yanking his cock from my orifice in time to spray my buttocks with a couple of salvos. With the hot liquid running down my cheeks towards my engorged pussy lips, I closed my eyes in absolute contentment.

With the help of Jack Howler, BeverlyHills Girl 90210 had just produced her first sex film.

oØo

Jack spent the night with me, but he returned to his wife in the morning, and I headed towards the French Riviera to watch and edit our video.

The footage was hot and raw but required a lot of editing, much more than I'd anticipated. Watching the vibrant energy between Jack and myself inevitably proved too much, and I had to frequently relieve the built-up sexual tension.

As I was ready to post my video, Tumblr announced a policy change. There would be no more videos and photos containing explicit nudity or depictions of sexual intercourse. Bloggers could still post sexually-oriented images, but no one else could view them.

What's the point of that?

Yes, I enjoyed performing in my videos, but that was not the motivation. It was the reactions of my followers that I craved. After posting new material, I would sit biting my nails as I waited for the first comments. And, when I read how horny a follower had become watching my performance, I couldn't help getting aroused. However, this decision meant I'd have to give up blogging or find somewhere else to display my exhibitionism.

I discovered Reddit.

After serious soul searching, I decided to join. The authentication process was simple enough, and I soon uploaded my entire portfolio onto the site. Within six months, I had increased the number of my followers and was pleased with myself.

Unfortunately, it also proved to be my undoing.

Someone figured out that Hailey Buchanan and Beverly Hills Girl 90210 were one person. Apparently, what gave me away was a small, barely visible birthmark just above my anal crack.

Ironically, the only time the public could see my birthmark was in Dan Matthews's film when it had appeared fleetingly during the torrid sex scene with Joe Thornton. Because the movie was almost twenty years old, I'd forgotten all about that scene. However, Beverly Hills Girl 90210's naked tushie had featured prominently in my blog and was a definite factor in my growing popularity.

Because I'd accepted the birthmark as part of my being, I never gave it any serious thought, however, it seems I'd seriously underestimated some of the observant people on Reddit.

One eagle-eyed viewer posted a still shot from the Matthews film featuring my bum and birthmark this morning. That was followed by a reposted picture from my blog. Despite the difference in quality, the birthmark was evident in both images. As soon as I saw the comparison, I knew I was in trouble.

I fervently hoped the story would die down, but if the mainstream media got hold of it, I knew I'd need to get out of Los Angeles. Fast.

Luckily, being rich and famous has some advantages. A friend offered me the use of a private jet, and within a couple of hours, I was thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic on my way to France, wondering if my Hollywood career was over and contemplating my next move.