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Although none of them are my own, this story is based on true events. They were told to me three years ago by a very nice woman with a very unusual problem.



Names have been changed when necessary to protect the identities of the people involved.




*****



I’m in a tight situation. As the wife of a retired basketball-player (I’ll refer to him as Terrell) and mother of two small children, I’ve had it good for the last six years. I’m active in church and do my best to be a good role-model in the community. I also work hard to keep that “Barbie” look (the red headed version) for my husband with a toned body, long hair, and tasteful make-up. Of course that doesn’t stop my husband from looking at porn…a lot! I guess I should be glad that he’s only interested in looking at other women on-line instead of in person. But that’s actually part of the problem, a problem that began after my senior year of college. It started like this…



When I was twenty-one me and my best friend, Natalie, went road-tripping. Before that, we both had these big dreams to go backpacking across Europe and to meet French guys who would sweep us off our feet. As a graduation gift, my dad said he’d help me out dollar for dollar with whatever money I saved. But by the time me and Nat were done with college we had already drank away most of our savings by throwing keg parties. Long story short, we took what little money we had and just decided to vacation in Florida instead. And trust me, when you’ve grown up in Mississippi your whole life without stepping a toe outside of Southaven except for college, Florida seems almost as exotic as France.



Anyway, we were both blonde and very flirty back then. She had that long, golden-haired beach-goddess look going on. But my hair was platinum and barely hung just a few inches past my shoulders. I was trying to look like Christina Applegate.



When we got to Florida, whoa, it was more expensive to stay on the beach than we had thought. In order to actually make it back to Mississippi we would either have to sleep in Nat’s car or stay in a dive motel that we could technically only afford for two nights if we also planned on eating. I came up with a plan pretty quick.



We eventually checked into a kind of gross looking motel that had an awesome view. “Put your swimsuit on,” I told Nat.



“I’m tired from driving. Can’t we just rest?” she complained. I told her to just trust me.



We started taking off our clothes and dug through an assortment of bikini’s that each of us had brought. I chose a pink one and slipped some cut-off shorts over the bottoms. Natalie on the other hand, put on one of those super revealing one-pieces that totally gave away the fact that she used to be stripper. It was shiny, backless, and the neckline plunged all the way down to her pelvis. Looking at her, I ditched my shorts, not wanting Nat to get more attention than me on the beach.



“So what have you got planned?” Nat asked when we left the room. I could tell that she was growing impatient. But instead of telling her, I showed her by subtly swinging my hips as I walked toward a concession stand. Lots of guys were already watching. I could feel their eyes on me. I stood in line smiling and trying to hide the fact that I didn’t really have the money to buy anything. A couple of guys approached me. They were a little older than us, maybe in their early to mid thirties.



“They’ve got great food here, huh?” one of them asked me, just trying to make lousy small talk.



“I dunno, never been here before.”



“Never?”



“Nope, I dunno if I should get anything. Natalie,” I said, looking over my shoulder. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”



“Uh, yeah?” she smiled, finally catching on. “Oh shoot. Sorry. I left my purse back at the hotel. Let’s go back,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me with her.



“No wait!” Both of the men who had been staring at us said in unison. They immediately insisted on paying for whatever the hell we wanted, especially Nat. Her boobs were killing me in that revealing swimsuit. Both her cleavage and the sides of her breasts were exposed. I considered myself prettier, but it sometimes seemed as if her nipples could perk up on command. They looked like little pebbles under the shiny material of her swimsuit. Her areolas were larger too, sometime that seemed more attractive than mine.



That afternoon was really fun. Free food, free beer, and lots of attention from men. I could tell that Natalie was really into one of the guys who had bought us lunch, Rick. He was one of the better looking ones, kinda tall and dark-haired. Nat kept doing things like reaching down to “find” seashells in the sand, which ultimately would make one or both of her breasts pop out if she did it the right way. She was trying hard to compete with me because the totally accidental camel-toe that my bathing suit created kept Rick’s eyes focused between my legs. He laughed nervously and asked if we wanted to walk to his hotel with him. He said it had a nice resort set-up and we could get some stiffer drinks at the bar there. Rick was getting stiff too judging by the bulge in his shorts. We told him to go ahead and we’d meet him there in fifteen minutes. Quickly, me and Natalie went back to our motel to shower, change our clothes.



Rick fumbled with the keys to his hotel room when we finally got there, totally skipping the bar. It was game-on between me and Nat because I felt like I had met him first, even though I didn’t really want him. I was just being competitive.



Rick immediately started kissing me. I sort of froze up for a moment because it was just then hitting me that he expected more than just a good conversation and a look at the outline of my pussy. He was expecting sex. Maybe if it was just me by myself I would have bailed, but he was cute and Nat didn’t seem worried, so I figured we’d just play around with him for a little while, give him a hand-job and then take his money while he slept it off or something like that.



But like I said, Natalie was really into him. She’d probably been waiting all afternoon for that chance to jump him and that suspicion was confirmed by the way she came up behind the two of us. Rick turned away from me to start kissing her while he kept a hand on my left breast, squeezing it softly. She slipped a hand down the front of his pants and started jerking him. The better it felt, the tighter he squeezed my breast.



“Let’s go to the bed,” he told us. Natalie pulled down his shorts. He was average in girth and length. I stole his mouth away from her again and he lifted up my shirt, exposing my braless chest. It felt great when his lips descended to my nipples sucking them while Nat got on the floor and started circling a tongue around his hard penis. I couldn’t believe we were having a threesome, but it was fun! Rick’s fingers slipped their way under my skirt and into my panties. But I could tell this was sort of an awkward position for him while getting head from Nat, so I stopped him for a moment and took of all of my clothes. He and Natalie followed my lead as I got onto the bed and lied down.



Rick got between my legs and started licking my pussy, so I spread my legs further.



“Up here. Let’s sixty-nine,” I said, being a little selfish as Natalie was excluded. Rick got into position, his spit-glossed erection hanging in my face. I opened my mouth and he slid himself in, moaning a little before he started to eat my pussy again. Since his cock had just been down Natalie’s throat and now it was down mine, I could taste the peppermint candy that she had been eating earlier.



I closed my eyes Rick was really good at licking me. I played with his balls trying to give him the same pleasure he was giving me.



“Oh yeah, you slut,” he said. I thought Rick was talking to me, but while he talked I could still feel my pussy being licked and that’s when I realized something. It wasn’t him going down on me anymore. It was Natalie. We had never been the type of female friends who went around having lesbian experiences with each other, not even during sleepovers, so I was really caught off guard. She was really trying to show me up. My first instinct was to do something that would get Rick’s attention back on me, not her. But ultimately, thinking about Nat made me come faster than usual, especially after she slipped her finger into me while sucking my clit. My legs shook, so I guess Rick knew what was going on and he came in my mouth. Shaft stuffed down my throat, I had no choice but to swallow.



Spent, Rick rolled off of me. We were all panting. I couldn’t look Natalie in the eye, even when she sat down right next to me. Rick stared at us and she started sucking my tits, trying to make sure that a majority of the attention stayed on her. I played with her boobs for the first time. Touching someone else’s actually felt better than when I touched my own. Playing with her nipples, curiously, I finally made a move to suck them after a minute or two. My tongue swept over her large areolas before I latched on completely.



Another five minutes passed and Rick seemed ready to go again. Natalie tackled him this time, taking complete control, even rolling a condom down his shaft herself. I watched her hover and then slide down his shaft, cowgirl style. Her large breasts went up and down as she rode him. She swung her long hair, trying to look as sexy as possible. I didn’t want to be left out and started playing with her breasts licking them again then, we kissed. She moaned loudly and so did he. Eventually I leaned down to where their bodies met and started licking Natalie’s clit. It wasn’t so bad.



“Lemme see,” Rick kept saying. He lifted my hair out of my face and he watched me pleasure my friend as she rode him. He started to get really hot after that. I moved out of the way as he pumped into her really fast. Then he motioned for her to climb off because he was going to come to fast. “Fuck, fuck…he moaned.” She climbed off of his lap. I made a move to start toying with him again when Natalie directed my face to her pussy. I licked her clit again, but she pressed her entire cunt down on my mouth and kept a tight grip on my hair. I figured this was no time to start acting shy, so I went down on her with the same enthusiasm that she had shown me, sucking her labia into my mouth and then diving my tongue deep inside of her hole. She was really wet. I didn’t expect her to start dripping all over my face, but she did. Rick pulled off his condom and started to masturbate as he watched. Natalie moaned, becoming louder and louder. She pulled away just as Rick aimed toward my already wet face and ejaculated on me. From my forehead, it dripped down to my chin. Natalie seemed to think it was funny. I glared at her and moved off of the bed to wash my face.



As expected, Rick fell asleep. Me and Nat hopped in the shower and started to clean up while he snored away in the other room. Afterward I found his wallet, but there was only ten dollars inside and we didn’t feel comfortable trying to use any of his credit cards. That was okay though, he’d already bought us lunch anyway. We left quietly then, giggled as we sped down to the elevator.



“Man, I needed that so bad,” Natalie said. I couldn’t agree with her more. It’d been a while since my last guy too. We held hands walking on the beach back to our motel and guys whistled at us. We just rolled our eyes and laughed. Later, we watched a movie together and then got some sleep.



But in the morning, I woke up totally alone. Nat left me a note saying she’d be right back. But I was in the motel for about five hours before she actually came in through the door.



“Where were you?” I said, having paged her a couple of times with no reply.



“Sorry. I saw that you beeped me, but I was someplace really loud.”



“Where?”



“A club.”



“In the middle of the afternoon?”



“Listen,” she said, looking all excited. A guy was handing out flyers outside and I grabbed one. She handed me the flyer and the first thing that caught my eye was the words Girls! Girls! Gils! “They’re having an amateur-night,” she told me. From what I could tell there were prizes ranging from fifty dollars to five hundred. But they were only taking the first thirty or so girls who signed. “I signed-up the both of us, okay?” she said like it was no big deal. I said ‘no’ at first but after a minute of thinking about it I totally caved, feeling more sexually adventurous than I ever had. This is when things started going downhill.



We showed up around nine o’clock that night. Other girls brought stuff to change into, but me and Nat just wore skimpy stuff over our bikinis with matching high heels. Everyone went on solo except me and Nat, who came up with a little routine back in our motel room. We both had on plaid skirts that made us look like schoolgirls. Guys were telling Natalie to take her top off before the music even started playing. We chose “All She Wants to Do is Dance” as our theme song. The DJ played it and we got to dancing. At first it seemed like Nat would get all the attention because she really knew her way around a pole, but guys seemed turned on by the fact that my inexperience made me look more innocent, yet eager to please. At the end of the night we won the five hundred dollars, which made us jump up and down with excitement. The other girls glare at us, but we were feeling so conceited by that point that it only made us laugh.



“You wanna earn a little more?” the club manager asked us. “Maybe you can go backstage and entertain for a while.” He told us that there were some regulars at the club who were really into us as a duo. It was probably thanks to them that we had won the five hundred dollars, not because our dancing was any good.



Natalie told the guy that we’d dance in the VIP room without even asking me first. I started to feel uncomfortable. I should have declined, but I didn’t.



“It’s nothing,” she told me. I knew she’d been a stripper before, so I tried to believe that she knew exactly what we were doing and wouldn’t let anything regrettable happen. I was wrong.



We danced privately in the VIP room for about an hour, but my feet just weren’t used to that type of punishment. Natalie said she wouldn’t be mad if I went back to the motel without her. She gave me most of the money and I told her to call when she needed a ride back. Around midnight I fell asleep, but the phone rang.



“Are you ready?” I said. It was Natalie of course. She gave me an address where she wanted me to pick her up. There were some people she wanted me to meet.



“And look nice,” she said.



I got kind of dolled up, put on a cute dress and got in the car wondering if she’d met up with some more cute guys like Rick to have fun with that night. The new address was kind of far and in a building that honestly didn’t look safe to me, but I saw a lot of girls standing outside smoking cigarettes and noticed that one of them was my friend. She flagged me down to a close parking space.



“What’s going on?” I asked her. She had this mischievous look on her face.



“Now don’t freak out,” she began, which told me that I needed to. “This is a movie set. We can make some big money, finally go to Europe and shit.” I already knew where this was going, but had to ask anyway.



“What kind of movie?”



“It’s a porno. But it’s not like we’re virgins, right? Just come on in and meet everybody. It’s not as bad as it seems.” She was right at first. Everyone on set was female and then I started to recognize what this was. It was kind of like Girls Gone Wild, but back then there was a company called Primary Studios who really liked to cross boundaries with amateur adult stars. I’d seen a million or more of their late night infomercials about watching “real girls” do “real bad” stuff.



Someone with one of those microphone headsets came over to talk to me and two other girls who had just arrived, but they seemed more experienced. In fact, Natalie started to seem more experienced too and I realized that this probably wasn’t her first time in one of these movies. She’d been a stripper during our last two years of college after all.



“Yeah, my agent told me all this,” one of the girl’s said. I could be totally wrong, but she looked a lot like Asia Carrera before her career really took off. The man left her alone and went back to talking to me. Apparently Natalie said that I was down to do whatever they asked of me.



“I’ll be right back,” he said and shoved a clipboard into my hands. There was a list of things like Vaginal, Anal, Double-penetration, etc. and I was supposed to check of the ones I was willing to do. Natalie practically came out of nowhere and started checking things off for me.



“Hey!” I told her, but she assured me that it was no big deal.



“This is such a low-budget piece of crap,” she whispered to me. “I doubt they’ll keep making copies for more than a year. This isn’t a big time film.”



I shook my head.



“C’mon, everybody has sex,” she said. She told me to just do a girl-girl scene if I was uneasy about doing it on camera with a stranger and that it would be fun. “You won’t get paid as much, but oh, well.”



I refused. The director seemed okay about that at first, but then he asked me to just watch one of the films in action to show me that it was a no-pressure type of thing and that lots of girls wanting to make some extra cash did it. Standing with the rest of the crew behind lights and cameras, I watched Natalie have sex with two other girls then, a guy was added into the mix. She was really making a show of things as the other two girls tried to keep-up.



I dunno what it is about our friendship, but I started to feel competitive again. It seemed like she was really trying to rub it in my face that I was naïve and less sexually experienced than she was, so I signed the worksheet that I’d been given earlier. And instead of just doing a lesbian scene, I decided to have sex with the same guy who Natalie was taking control of. They called him Zack Zane. And I was going to be credited as Harmony Glee or Grant in some of the print-work that they also distributed. They gave us generic names that sometimes got re-used by other.



Zack was good-looking, not very well-endowed, but man cold he fuck. I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but to this day he remains one of the best lovers I have ever had. He had reddish brown hair and blue eyes, which really isn’t my thing, but after him I was hooked. His thighs were so strong and powerful, having them wrapped around me felt incredible.



But before we started, he and I both showered up, talked briefly, then an errand girl came by with condoms and individual packets of lubricant for us to take to the “bedroom” set. She also offered me some wine to loosen up. There was nothing romantic about the video, no real plot, just a low-budget romp. That’s when I was able to see what Natalie meant by the video not being produced for more than a year. The whole experience just seemed so tacky. I’m not even sure if the building we were working in was zoned for that kind of thing. Probably not. But I just went with it.



Lying on the bed, I squeezed Zack to me with my thighs, loving the way he stroked inside of me and how free I felt having sex in front of twenty, possibly thirty people—the production crew and other actors. I let all of my cares go and moaned loudly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Natalie looking a little peeved that I’d stolen her thunder by being extremely active with my partner. But I still had one last trick up my sleeve. She didn’t know that Zack wasn’t the only guy I’d agreed to have sex with. Can you imagine the look on her face when three more men tackled me that night after thinking that I was only going to do girl-girl stuff?



The next two men were totally unremarkable to me, a sort of out of shape blond and then a black guy. Next, I was introduced to a man about my age called Nick Strong. The producer convinced me to take him on too.

Note: The descriptions and accounts in these stories are fictional and do not portray any actual people or events.







It all started on a typical LA evening.



As usual, the guys were sitting around talking football, and the girls were left to entertain themselves. The main topic of male conversation was always ridiculing the never to be sufficiently damned Auburn Tigers, something which had been very easy to do over the last few seasons. Even the Supreme Team’s recent near misses and one frank stumble before ultimate triumph had not dimmed their boyish enthusiasm and “Roll Damn Tide” spirit, or the sense of innate and inevitable football superiority that was extant throughout the kingdom of Lower Alabama.



The women, however, were becoming much more interested in the performance, or the lack thereof, in the bedroom than on the football field, and were beginning to talk openly about reviewing their options.



The boys listened to their MX Space radios in their big rigs while they were on the job, and had MX receivers at home too, to catch all the important talk shows that covered LA football and a little NASCAR for the occasional highbrow cultural enhancement. They especially liked to listen to “Paul’s Fine Bum” a talk show that centered on the Tide, even though the host did not show proper respect and deference to Coach at all times. Second on their hit parade was Mark Fudge, then Jack Maroot. And when the boys were away from home driving cross country, the gals grew tired of listening to the commercials for energy drinks, football logo coolers and Viagra, Cialis, Red Code, and Root Hog, especially when they had given all of the above ‘erectile enhancement products’ to their men for birthday, Christmas, anniversary and even Easter presents without any noticeable increase in male performance or female satisfaction. It was funny that so much many of the ads on the football fan shows were for erectile dysfunction, enlarged prostate medications, and Preparation H, but the girls did not make the connection at that time. But seeking some sort of stimulation, they turned the MX radios at home up the dial to some of those other channels, including the XXX rated ones, and that gave them some new ideas.



Ideas that continued to circulate in their heads for a while, until one day Lurleen, the 45 year old true leader of the female pack, heard tell of a bunch of new cable TV channels, set aside specifically by the F’ing CC for ‘local origin’ HDTV shows that could be easily distributed all over the country. The new ‘fiber everywhere’ shovel ready government infrastructure program pushed through by the new Biden/Pelosi administration, paid for by more and higher taxes on evil rich folks, meant huge gobs of bandwidth was just waiting for content, and the legislation specifically directed that any and all points of view could be portrayed, and categorically forbid any hint of censorship, especially with regard to sexual practices and gender issues, simply mandating that the top rated shows got the available channels, and that all employees building out the new facilities had to be union. Lurleen had an associate’s degree in television production from Lower Alabama Community College, and her younger cousin, Cornelia Corley, had gone big time and got herself a full-fledged four year bachelorette degree in mass communications from Full Snail University, the real Harvard of the South.



For a 1/5 of the money the boys would spend on a bass boat, they got a bunch of Go-Pro Hero camera outfits, plus all sorts of lenses, lights, and microphones, and full video and audio editing suites, and decided to produce their own reality TV show, in stunning HD. Cornelia rummaged around the attic and found her freshman textbook on television production, and proceeded to write down the key elements of the craft that she had previously so studiously highlighted in yellow, and then called the organizational meeting of the LAFLWVPS (Lower Alabama Frustrated Loving Wives Video Production Society) to order.



Present were Lurleen, their fearless leader, and Cornelia, the official producer and primary director. Also Cousin Patsy who was to be in charge of casting and locations, and second cousin Martha Dianne, to manage the business and finance activities. Tammy Faye, Lurleen’s so called ‘widow sister-in-law’, sister to Lurleen’s deceased first husband George, was their business advisor, but she and Lurleen’s present husband Earl did not get along, so she mostly attended meetings telephonically.



“I hereby call this meeting to order!” declared Lurleen, banging her gilded and sequined flyswatter like a gavel.



“First order of business is what kind of show we should make. Madam Producer/Director, what are your recommendations?”



Martha Diane had a good deal of meeting experience with her bowling leagues and quilting societies, not to mention the Junior League, and she had also done some research about the new open access channels and how they were allocated. “Well, I would say it’s all about ratings, girls. You can upload one weekly episode of your show each week and they will broadcast your episode several times each week for 4 weeks, and ratings come out every week. If you are in the top 1000 shows, you get to produce a show for week 5, and as long as you stay in the top 1000. Otherwise, you are done. If you make the top 1000 for 6 months in a row, then you get one year of guaranteed program slots until you have to be rated again. So whatever we do has to find an audience and find it fast!”



Cornelia had some ideas, too. Clutching her old textbook to her breast, she said, “I have reviewed my extensive academic research materials, and I suggest we have to find a subject that not only will our audience like, but that we are passionate about and can stay interested in, so that we can really put our hearts and minds into the production and turn out a good show!” There was general agreement all around on that point.



Martha Diane continued “And it is my fiduciary duty to point out the financial aspects of this show, girls. If we get into the top 1000, we can begin to accept advertising. If we get a one year run, it could bring in significant revenue. The all access shovel ready programs in the top ten bring in several hundred thousand dollars a year!” The room was now all atwitter.



Lurleen had an opinion, and she always shared her opinions. “Well, right now I am passionate about a lack of passion! It was been so long since I have been wet between the legs that I forget what it’s like! So I want to make a show about something that gets me hot.”



Cornelia blurted out “I know what would get me hot! Seeing an actual hard dick around the house would be nice for a change, and I bet lots of other women like me want to see the same thing!”



Lurleen looked aghast. “I was thinking of something like “The Voice’ where we have some sort of talent show, or a dating show like that old ‘The Dating Game’, but with the young kids today!”



Martha Diane drew in a big breath. “I know, I know! Let’s combine all of those! It’s a natural.”



“What do you mean hon?”



“It’s a game show with young men who come on and try to get dates with older women like us, who vote on which guy they would like to do them the most, basically voting on which guy has the best dick!” Martha Diane was really getting into this idea.



“Can we show their dicks on TV?”



“We can show anything on these new channels, hon. No censorship is allowed at all, but lots of the channels are about weird stuff like sex change operations and the joys of bestiality. I think some good ol’ straight sex might get great ratings, plus think of all the delightful sights we will get to see on the set!” There was much nodding of heads at this, and a little bit of stroking of thighs, too.



“So it’s not the ‘Dating Game’, it’s the ‘Dicking Game’?”



“We do have to come up with a catchy name.” said Cornelia. “I highlighted the paragraph in my book about the best names being alliterative.”



“I don’t want no damn lesbian names. This should be about straight sex!” Lurleen stamped her foot.



“No, hon, it means that the words of the title start with the same letters or sounds, like ‘Blues Brothers’, or ‘Dirty Dozen’ or “Private Practice’ or ‘Cold Case’.”



“Oh, I get it! How about ‘Dream Dicks’?”



“Not bad. That would certainly get my attention!”



“My older sister used to say she liked to date guys that were ‘swinging some lumber’!”



“That image makes me a little wet right now!”



“Wait a minute! I heard a commercial this morning for a discount wood floor company that sounded good!”



“What do wood floors have to do with this?”



“Nothin’ really, cousin, just that the words of the name all started with the same sounds and it kind of stuck in my mind. Our show will be about women who get wet thinking about dating guys with big hard dicks, so how about we call it ‘Liquid Lumber Daters’?”



“I like it. We should use that sound effect like Stern Howard does on MX, those wooden ‘spronging’ sounds like a vibrating piece of lumber that they play whenever someone is ‘getting some wood’!”



Lurleen smiled. “Getting some vibrating lumber sounds pretty good to me right now!”



“I like it, too. Now, let’s think about how the show should work.” There followed a long discussion that was about what kind of hard dicks they would like to see, and about the mechanics of how the show should work. They did come up with a few ideas for the flow of the ‘game show’ that they would present, and some special themes for individual episodes. Assignments were made for the next meeting two days hence, and the creative juices began to flow, and perhaps some other juices in anticipation of filming the first episode.



Meanwhile, the boys were totally devoted to analyzing the upcoming college football season, and one aspect of it was really getting under Lurleen’s skin. They had developed a strange man crush on the freshman QB that last year had knocked off the Supreme Team for their only loss. The boys had been following the threads on all 16 LA football fan sites they subscribed to about how The Tide should have recruited this kid out of Texas in the first place, and comparing his freshman offensive statistics to great Crimson Tide quarterbacks in history. Lurleen began calling him Johnny Mansmell, after Cornelia had explained the term ‘jock sniffer’ to her. When he won the Heisman trophy, things got even worse.



“Maybe that’s our problem! Our men have become more interested in sniffin’ jockstraps than our panties?”



“Well, maybe we can at least get them involved in the show by inviting some Tide football players to model jockstraps on camera!”



“They would all watch that, wouldn’t they?”



“And maybe while they are watching jock A, we can be backstage playing with cock B!”



The Facebook page was bringing in lots of potential stars for their show, and even more ideas for skits and bits. The girls were pleasantly surprised at how many men willingly sent photos of their ‘package’ without asking, although they were a bit put off by a few Congressmen and state assemblymen who sent a new picture every day. They soon became expert at spotting photos that had been altered with Photoshop, but avidly shared what they called ‘the real thing’ when a particularly nice and un-retouched photo arrived.



They settled on some popular overall themes for their first four episodes: ‘Lies and Statistics’, ‘High School Reunion’, ‘Hot versus Cold’, and ‘Football Versus Basketball’, and began trying to finalize scripts, casting, and production design.



The first few weeks of pre-production work were hectic and very trying: learning to use the cameras and editing equipment, lighting, and scheduling were particular challenges for the erstwhile housewives, but they persevered. Since the first episode, ‘Lies and Statistics’, was intended to be partially factual, Lurleen suggested that they ape the style of their favorite newsmagazine of the air, the venerable “60 Minutes”. They copied the lighting, the verbal style of the interviewers, the on screen graphics, and even the kind of chairs they used. She found two ‘expert witnesses’ for special segments of the first show. One was Dr. Crura Glans, a professor of Urology at Lower Alabama Medical Center, whose practice was limited to the penis; and Dr. Hyacintho Cetia, a very distinguished woman who was a lecturer in statistics at the Lower Alabama Osteopathic Medical College of the Nazarene, who would try to explain, in laymen’s terms, the available statistical data on penis size.



The Sixty Minutes model also gave them the idea to have some repeating segments that viewers could anticipate and look forward to. Each of the women was given the assignment to come up with two segment ideas that they would be featured in on every other episode that went on air.



At the next Monday production meeting, a term Cornelia had cribbed from her old textbook; Lurleen was frantic when her turn came to present her idea. She had always been more of the executive type, not the creative type, and her idea seemed like just copying an old bit from a show when she was a little girl and just repackaging it on their team. She used love the old ‘Gong Show’ bit with the Unknown Comic who wore the brown paper bag over his head because his jokes were so bad. She came up with the idea because she did not actually want her face to appear on the show doing what she proposed. So she decided to be ‘The Unknown Masseuse’ who gave the contest winner a ‘happy ending’ bad hand job at the close of the show, with a paper bag over her head. She could do what she really wanted to – play with those big hard dicks – without anyone except the other girls on the show knowing who she really was.



She expected the idea to be shot down as lame, but the other girls all loved it. In fact they all wanted their turn, so they would rotate and each do one ‘happy ending’ on the winner of each weekly episode. They decided to make it the final segment using slow motion if required to stretch it out, so to speak, as long as was required to finish rolling the titles and credits over it. After they had settled on that as a recurring feature, Cornelia also came up with a sort of candid camera bit where she would pick out a guy at the mall that she would really like to check out, and then approach him, on camera, to talk him into coming on the show. There were several other promising ideas, but they just needed two bits for the first episode, which was due to start filming immediately.



They were worried that the husbands would tumble to the fact that something was going on, what with so many phone calls and packages arriving, and the girls going to so many ‘women’s club meetings” as they produced the show. But timing was everything, and spring football, with its famous climax, the Crimson versus White Spring Game had totally occupied the boy’s minds, and they didn’t notice what the girls were up to. The girls did notice that the boys weren’t up for anything but football. In fact, the boys were beside themselves with worry: things had not gone well with the Supreme Team this spring. They had been worried by all the rumors about the offense during spring drills, and described the play in the spring game as ‘sloppy’ causing Lurleen to think wistfully of the last time she had been sloppy and got played with. There were six interceptions, and there could have been a lot more, as balls were bouncing all over the turf. The girls were determined to see some bouncing balls too, on their own chosen field of play.



The auditions and casting calls took on a strange tone, sort of like American Idol meets porn theater, and the girls all saw some very interesting sights every day. All four cameras and mikes were rolling almost all the time, not only portraying the contestant’s anatomy, but ‘human interest’ interviews on their hometowns, girlfriends, and future aspirations. They discovered that a closed set was an absolute requirement, and the collection of ‘groupies’ outside the doors almost defied description. There were pleasant surprises as some entrants proved even more photogenic and interesting than their submitted photos or video clips had indicated, and abject terror when some proved to be much less appealing, or frankly so unbalanced as to be well beyond ‘eccentric’ and ‘interesting’ and into ‘dangerous’ territory. Lurleen’s notes on what to do differently next week soon filled a notebook. Happily, the two experts chosen for the first episode proved to be very camera savvy, requiring few retakes and coming off very well, so to speak, leading the girls to consider making them regulars on the show.



Despite all their planning and enthusiasm, they still found it very difficult to put out the first show. They had to shoot hours of video to get minutes of air time, and the editing took forever. The first two days they were very picky about their footage, wanting to edit and reshoot and fiddle with it, but soon they were lowering their standards to just try to get enough minutes on the air to wrap a show. This made for herky jerky cuts, sloppy dialog, and a very uneven and amateur feel. This actually became their signature style, and may have been a factor in the show’s appeal. They had little time to dally with the contestants, it taking all their efforts just to get enough footage each day.



After a final post production meeting, which Lurleen would later describe as a ‘total bitch fest’ marked by screaming, crying, recriminations and the refighting of several childhood feuds, they finally had their first episode in the can, with only a day to spare for the open upload window. They then had to quickly produce a three minute ‘preview’ which would first be uploaded in low resolution for a preliminary screening, and then if they received authorization, they would be given instructions to upload the entire episode. There was much celebration when they got word that they should bring their DVD to the local cable facility for uploading via their direct to fiber connection. Lurleen thought it was funny that they called this building their ‘head end’.



As they finished the upload, the manager of the cable company introduced Lurleen and Cornelia to a very strange looking old man called ‘Rowdy’ Robert Redfern, and said he might be able to help them with certain aspects of promoting the show and maximizing their advertising and merchandizing income. Bob introduced himself and told them right up front that he had ‘a checkered past’. As he explained his career, they found that was an understatement.



Rowdy was, many years ago, a Hollywood lawyer: went to Loyola, passed the bar and everything. He was not exactly on the major studio legal referral lists, though. In fact he was literally an ambulance chaser, and that was on a good day, when he specialized in traffic accidents of the rich. He developed another sideline; doing phony legal filings for less than reputable private investigators and their clients. He made up false divorce decrees to convince young girls that their lovers were leaving their wives, phony deeds to serve as collateral for loans, anything that was a cash and carry document that did not have to have his name on it.



He also had a hobby: photography, more specifically ‘erotic’ photography. This was in the days of film, there was no video, and no digital cameras and he had a very nice darkroom in his trailer. But his work didn’t hang in fancy galleries: it was usually sold in truck stops, bookie joints, pachinko parlors, or to a very select mail order clientele. He discovered a lucrative niche: nudist photos and he specialized even more than that. While his competitors published magazines with titles like ‘Sun Worshipper’s Journal’, and mixed in photos of older men and women to provide cover for the photos of the young stuff their customers really wanted to see, he went right to the heart of the matter with no diversions.

He was busy congratulating himself and pocketing lots of money from his best selling magazine ‘Focus on Tokus’ when the postal inspectors showed up. Bye-bye law license, but in those days they did not have ‘sexual offender registries’ and his plea deal was not widely publicized. Surprisingly, his career options actually improved, as the video cassette recorder sparked a boom in video porn. He became a virtual front office for the industry: setting up shell corporations, being the official address for the ‘custodian of records’ that ‘proved’ that ‘all performers are 18 or older’ and helping to arrange distribution and billing for the smaller producers. Soon he branched out into being an agent, and represented some of the biggest stars of the so called ‘golden age of porn’. He made lots of money, got married to one of his hottest clients, and went straight. They moved to be near his wife’s ancestral home in the Shoal Creek suburb near Mobile. Most of the neighbors never realized that when viewed from the air, his house looked like a woman’s vagina, not a guitar. They raised three daughters and he achieved his goal of ‘keeping them off the pole’ but they did have some tattoos he didn’t like. He had a good life, but once the daughters were all married, and his wife died, he realized he was very bored, and also very unhappy that he had missed out on the internet porno boom.



He quickly convinced Lurleen and Cornelia that he had just the kind of sleazy industry experience and connections they needed to profit from their show, well beyond the adverting revenue. He told them he could recognize a hit show, and theirs was going to be huge, in more ways than one. They would soon have a plethora of offers for merchandising deals, personal appearance contracts, guest appearances on TV shows, and a dozen other things the girls had never thought of, and he could handle all that for them, for a simple percentage: an agent’s fee of 10%. He would also go out and sell advertising for them, for a very reasonable agency commission of 10%, and presented them with a contract for their review.



Lurleen didn’t know any lawyers, but her cousin Goobette was married to an enrolled agent before the IRS, and that was of course even better. He quickly blessed off on the deal, and a delighted Rowdy began to work the phones. He gave them an update in a few days and said he had a host of deals set up already: Liquid Lumber Daters branded clothing, dildos, vibrators, and penis enlargement pumps; and a paid subscription newsletter and webpage with the ‘insider’s perspective’ on the show; and he delivered $100K in advance payments and earnest money, taking his 10%. He said after the first episode aired, he would be on the phones 24/7 selling advertising at confiscatory prices and making them all a lot of money.



The girls scheduled a full meeting of the LAFLWVPS (Lower Alabama Frustrated Loving Wives Video Production Society) at Lurleen’s house, since her husband had the biggest big screen, but certainly not the biggest dick, to view their ‘premiere episode’ when it aired, which was conveniently on a Thursday night when all of their husbands were attending a booster club meeting. The episode would appear again on Sunday and then again on Tuesday. As excited as they were, they also felt tremendous pressure to produce the next episode for upload next week. Lurleen decided to really make an effort as hostess, preparing some of her favorite appetizers, which also seemed cleverly appropriate for the occasion: beanie weenies, pigs in a blanket, bratwursts served with two meatballs each, and some penis shaped sugar cookies with cream icing. The girls all made up a plate and sat with bated breath as the previous show, about the adventures of promiscuous gay dog show handlers, rolled its credits. Apparently all the dogs were straight, and the females only came in season twice a year, but the handlers were another story.



Lurleen had written their opening sequence, cribbing from some old Sixty Minutes stories she found on the web. She also narrated, pulling off sounding like a female Morley Safer. The initial Liquid Lumber Daters graphic, plain Gothic text in pink on a black background, with a big stopwatch, held on screen for a few seconds, and then an animated graphic that Cornelia had created and was very proud of began to run. It showed penises, beginning with the smallest one she could find a photo of, a minute little flea, as the narrator begin to describe, in hushed tones like a Sixty Minutes intro, but with a wanking jerk off noise in the background instead of the clock ticking, the biological and cultural significance of the penis throughout history. Every few seconds, another photo would flash on, of a larger and larger penis, as the narration became louder and more animated in explaining that this show was about dicks, real human dicks on real human males. The final photo was the huge penis of the blue whale, which remained onscreen with a boat crewman for size comparison. As they narrator finished up, describing the show’s quest for the biggest and best dicks in the world, and the contest that would find and expose them. She had also experimented with subliminal messaging, inserting microsecond flashes of wetter, redder, and more distended female genitalia in between each transition to a new and larger penis picture. Whatever the reason, it was effective, and as the last big whale dick hung nine feet long on screen next to a smiling Japanese whaler for a size comparison just as the narrative ended, two of the women offstage breathlessly said “Oh, my God!”



The scene changed to the very distinguished looking Dr. Hyacintho Cetia, who was in her thirties, dressed in a severe dark blue suit and white blouse with her hair up in tight bun. She was sitting comfortably in a chair across from Lurleen, who was to interview her.



Lurleen tried to sound like Morley Safer asking a thoughtful question. “Dr Cetia, when it comes to penis size, we want you to be our Sergeant Joe Friday! Our viewers want to know. Just give us the facts, ma’am!”



Dr. Cetia smiled, and looked directly at the camera. “The human penis has been the subject of much study and the dissemination, so to speak, of much misinformation. Although there are some small differences with country of origin, racial groups, and climate, most human organs have a mean erect length of less than six inches. The maximum length that I have seen in a credible source is fourteen inches, and there are many examples less than two inches long. But the distribution is basically a Gaussian curve, or bell curve for those of you in Rio Linda, and the vast majority of male organs in the United States are between five and seven inches long.”



“Is longer really better, Doctor?”



“Well, that’s not my area of expertise, since that is a subjective question. But my personal opinion is that it comes down to a Goldilocks scenario: if it’s too short it’s not good, and if it’s too long that’s not good either.”



“What about girth?”



“Well we do have statistics on that. The ratio of length to width is very much a clustered distribution, too, but there is no statistically valid research on sexual performance versus penis girth, either on chance of impregnation or on female arousal and orgasm. Again this is not my professional area, but in my opinion, it’s the Goldilocks answer again. Too fat or too skinny is not good, but somewhere in the middle is just right!” She smiled beatifically, and Lurleen made a planned segue.



“We did seek out and find an expert who does work in that area. Let me introduce Dr. Crura Glans, M.D., PhD. who is a bored, certified urologist and expert in both the physiology of the penis and sexual physiology in general. Dr. Glans, is there a best size?”



“Well, there is a growing body of evidence, so to speak, that there is a ‘golden ratio” of length to girth that proves most satisfying to women partners. There seems to be no statistically valid studies on the chances of impregnation beyond the unsurprising finding that organs less than two inches long are less successful in delivering the semen properly, especially if either the male or the female have a significant ‘fat pad’ on the pelvis, a situation that is becoming more common in the population.”



“So let me ask you, doctor, what’s the golden ratio? How would you describe it?”



“Well, the exact numbers won’t mean much, but let me describe it in terms your audience can easily identify with. A penis that is really thin may not provide the kind of stimulation most woman need. Thicker is better, up to a point. Too thick can be very painful, but very few penises are too thick.”



They then introduced the segment where Cornelia approached a guy at the mall and tried to get him to come, so to speak, on the show. They started out with Lurleen interviewing Cornelia about how it felt to go out and try to get guys to talk about their dicks.



“Cornelia, did you find it hard to get young men to talk to you about their ‘packages’?”



“Well, Lurleen, this reporter discovered very quickly that she could tell which men were comfortable with their manhood and which were not. The ones who say something stupid like ‘I need to leave it in my pants so it won’t knock you over’ never actually showed me anything. The ones who looked shy but sort of intrigued turned out the best. Let me show you some tape.”



Cornelia had been shockingly good at this, shyly but persistently getting guys at the mall to let her see and then video their cocks for a chance to be on the show. She got them to tell stories of their first erection, their first ejaculation, and recall girls that gave the very best hand jobs or blowjobs. She said she almost never guessed right about size before the actual ‘reveal’, and said the old wives tales about fingers, feet or noses did not prove good estimators.



Their followed a fast paced and briskly edited segment of videos of the lines for the casting calls, initial interviews, first ‘swimsuit competition’ parades, and outtakes of some contestants, and their supportive family members, so to speak, that did not make it in to the final round. The penultimate segment was called the Top Three Showoff, wherein the most promising candidates paraded in thin white underwear, then were sprayed with water to reveal even more, and then a final reveal, with a triple video screen close-up with the voting numbers for each contestant superimposed. The audience cheered all three enthusiastically, but finally a winner stood out from the others. Lurleen had actually favored the runner up, a shy black man they called Brett ‘Sweetness’ Howell, from Montgomery. He seemed very disappointed to lose, but the white guy who won really did have a slightly bigger cock. Lurleen remembered those comments about Goldilocks, because she thought that that ‘Sweetness’ and his nine-incher was just right. Maybe she could console him after the show.



The audience in Lurleen’s living room got very quiet as the final segment was about to air. Unlike their cable viewers, they knew what was going to happen next and who was going to be doing it. But they had not seen it yet – it had been shot on a closed set and no one had seen it before except Lurleen and Richard White, their first contest winner, and Cornelia, who had wielded the camera and done the editing, one of her better efforts. Lurleen had asked their audio guy to disguise her voice for this segment, and he used something call an ‘Eventide’ to change it all up, making her sound a little bit like Shirley Temple with a southern drawl.



Richard White held up well, lasting long enough to give them plenty of footage but not so long as to make Lurleen’s efforts seem tiresome. She talked to him like she did when was bathing her favorite poodle, saying “Oh, you like that!” with a rising voice, or “Yeah, Uh-huh” with a deep voice when she hit on an obviously pleasing rhythm. Richards’ completely unscripted gems like “Yeah, Baby!” and “Just like that!” made for some good improvisational dialog. Her Shirley Temple imitation, thanks to her Harmonizer processed voice, sounded very sexy. Cornelia moved the camera around constantly; getting some great angles that showed Richard’s twitching cock and Lurleen’s bright eyes through the small slits in the brown paper bag, and made her interest and excitement obvious.



As Richard neared the boiling point, Lurleen wanked him faster and faster, and also ran her tongue back and forth outside her mouth, wetting the paper bag from the inside until it tore open, exposing her pink tongue just as he finally let loose. And in one of those serendipitous moments that are all too rare in reality TV, Richard turned out to be a veritable fire hose, covering the brown paper bag with white stuff as Lurleen continued to coo “Oh, let it loose!” Reviewers would later differ on whether or not the girls had done some pre-testing and chosen Richard for his voluminous performance, but they all agreed it made for must see TV. As the credits rolled, Richard’s last few shots continued to launch, lit by the studio lights and landing on Lurleen’s brown bag covered face, just barely missing her outstretched pink tongue, and a hit show was born.



Bloggers reviewed that first show overnight, and their readers emailed other readers again and again and the wave spread like wildfire. Headlines of the reviews of first show included eye catchers like: “Real Hot Wives of Lower Alabama” and “Paula Dean Cooks Young Cocks”, appealing to foodies and hotties. The herky jerky editing style caused some to nickname it the “Blair Dick Project” and that added to the buzz. Numerous gay blogs and websites called the show “Straight Guys for Queer Eyes” giving it a ‘two dicks up’ and other soaring reviews, and suddenly there was a huge gay audience and buzz. The capper was when a major national star, with her own network, let slip that she watched those new ‘shovel ready’ channels to support unions and to get ideas, and that Liquid Lumber Daters was the funniest and sexiest thing she had ever seen. It was later surmised that her PR team was trying to message that she really did like dicks, to counter some ugly speculation to the contrary, but whatever the reason she had put the show over the moon, and made it an overnight cult classic. The second show instantly became one of the most anticipated ever. The girls were overjoyed, but felt great pressure to perform, so to speak.



Lurleen had to go right to her office after the screening, to go over the scheduling for the next day’s shooting. Rowdy showed up thirty seconds later. “Congratulations, Lurleen, on a great first show. You are not going to believe the reactions you get, and the pressure you will soon be under.”



Rowdy was weird, but basically kind and well meaning, it seemed to her.



“I have a few more ideas to talk to you about, but not tonight, you need to relax a bit.”



She was grateful for that.



“Sometimes, Lurleen, when a production executive is under a lot of pressure, it can be hard to find ways to relax and relieve the tension. I have seen it many times. But you have to release the tension, sometimes every day, or the stress will really damage you, and lessen your performance. But it’s also important to find ways to do it that don’t create problems, if you take my meaning.”



She didn’t, not yet.



“I can also recognize when management personnel are taking a personal interest in the talent, so to speak. And in the modern litigious workplace, we have to be very conscious of direct reporting relationships and potential human relations issues, don’t you think?”



Her husband Earl had told her the story about an SEC coach that got in some trouble for riding motorcycles with one of his assistants. She thought there was probably more to the story than that, but she remembered that the fact that the assistant reported in through the coach was the legal issue that eventually led to his downfall. The boys called it some ‘multi-million dollar poontang’. Is that what Rowdy was talking about?



“I wanted to let you know that I have your back, so to speak, and think it is in my interest to make sure you can relax and perform creatively at your best. I have hired my own assistant to serve as my liaison to management and make sure I am aware of all the potential opportunities to serve you and earn my commissions and fees. He will be on site here during production, or whenever and wherever you need him, to help you in any he can. I sign his paycheck and he officially reports to me, he is here to do what you need done, if you catch my drift. May I introduce him to you?”



Lurleen was beginning to crack the code here, and it made her apprehensive, but also excited.



“Come in Brett. Lurleen, this is Brett Howell, my new assistant. I thought his unique perspective as a contestant, albeit a runner up, would help him be able to do things for you that someone else might not be able to. I am going to go now, everyone else is already gone. I’ll let you guys get acquainted.” With that Rowdy turned and exited her office, loudly and obviously locking the door behind him. Lurleen suddenly had an idea, and apparently so did Brett.



“Hello, Brett. I have to tell you I thought you should win!”



“I really wanted to, especially because I would get to film that final scene with you, Miz Lurleen.”



She blushed. “Oh, Brett, you don’t have to lie to flatter me. I’m just an old lady twice your age that likes to make videos.”



Brett moved a little closer, moving smoothly. “I would never lie to you, Miz Lurleen. I have a thing for older white women, I surely do. I almost got in big trouble in junior high because I had a teacher that I had a terrible crush on, and she looked just like you!”



“Why, whatever kind of trouble could a nice young boy like you be, Brett?”



He moved still closer. “I think you should call me Sweetness, Ma’am. I think before very long I’ll be calling you sweetness too! I got really excited whenever I was in this teacher’s class, and it became really obvious to her, and it made her nervous.”



Lurleen looked at the front of Brett’s Sweetness, er, uh, pants, and understood the issue. She was not nervous, but she was excited. “Well, Brett. Even if you didn’t win the contest, officially, maybe we should do a ‘retake’ of that last scene here in my office?”



Brett showed her that he was up for that and a lot more, too. Several times. She was now more relaxed than she had been in years, and ready for another tough day of ‘shooting’, too! She never realized how satisfying it could be lean back in your office chair with your legs up while a young assistant assisted you from under the desk, not that she didn’t return the favor, of course.



The next day, she had to hire a receptionist just to field all the calls from radio and TV shows that wanted to book her for an appearance, and the receptionist just forwarded everything to Rowdy. He advised only appearing on the show with the woman on her own network, because that was the most efficient use of her time. But his greatest coup would eventually impress everyone in LA, especially her husband, Earl. Rowdy liked to swing for the fences, and for the fourth show about basketball jock cocks versus football jock cocks, he had managed to book Johnny Mansmell himself as a ‘celebrity contestant’, swearing Lurleen to total secrecy until the official announcement.



“How did you do that, Rowdy?”



“Well, I know his agent, er, I mean, uh, trusted and uncompensated family friend, from way back, and I convinced him that his post football career as a celebrity could be just as lucrative as his during his playing days. He saw how when another quarterback’s girlfriend appeared on TV and got talked up by old lacquer haired Mussed Brentberger, the sportscaster, her career was made and she got a big modeling contact and screen tests. In fact she is more famous than the quarterback now. Then I pointed out to him that Kim Kardashian was only famous basically because she had made a short porn film which she released for free just to get buzz, and it was worth millions and millions to her. So he could see that by appearing on your show, and then maybe ‘accidentally’ releasing tape of some of girlfriend taking care of him, he could get hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of publicity. He laughed. “Leave it to an Aggie to set a career goal of being the male Kim Kardashian!”

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