Brother Films Us Having Sex
By Cheri Verset
Copyright © 2012 Cheri Verset
Smashwords Edition
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If I wanted to be melodramatic, I would stand up and say Hello my name is Gina and I’m a nymphomaniac. However, it was only partially true. Yes, I loved having my little pussy drilled every which way and as often as possible, but I wasn’t actually a sex addict. I had on no occasion been diagnosed by a health professional – not unless you count the time I gave head to a cardiologist outside his country club.
Sex never really ruled my impulses nor has it ruined my life. I was simply a healthy 20-year-old with an equally healthy sex drive. I can tell you I was a very popular girl in high school. Obviously, I got the reputation that went with it but I wouldn’t personally call it a bad reputation.
I wasn’t letting the jocks plow me because I had daddy issues and I wasn’t introducing the cheerleaders to the joys of girl-girl pleasures to get attention. I just enjoyed sex like some people enjoy shopping or watching NASCAR on TV. You know how the guidance counselor is supposed to help you find out what you love in life so you can pick out the right career?
I kept my answers vague, telling the woman I liked to work with people. This was one instance where I knew telling the truth about my adoration of all things sexual would get me in trouble. For appearances’ sake I looked into nursing as a career choice but I wanted something a little more adventurous. I was actively looking into a job in the sex trade.
Had I been born in any other family, I would’ve packed my bags right after high school graduation and gotten on a bus for Los Angeles. I would’ve been the poster girl for troubled runaways sinking into a seedy life of sex, drugs, and crime. But my family was exceptional. I truly had the best parents in the universe. Even my younger brother was cool, in a nerdy sort of way.
My parents had been aware of my souped-up sex drive since I hit puberty. They had to have The Talk with me when I was eleven because they had caught me stealing cucumbers from the refrigerator. They also knew I hated the taste of cucumbers. This was compounded by the time they were called into the principal office after I had goaded a couple of six-graders into fingering me during gym class.
So my folks knew about my proclivities. All they told me was to be careful, to protect myself, and to never let someone force me into anything. Because they were cool with me, I was cool with them. I shared my intentions of going into the sex trade. At first, I wanted to be a stripper but it wasn’t sexual enough for me.
Then, I figured I would be an escort. That seemed like a dream job! I would be fucked all day long while getting paid handsomely for it. The problem with that was that I’d have no control over my partners. There was a very real possibility I would wind up under some fat sweaty slob day after day. Maybe they would be all coked up and mean to me.
My face brightened up when the answer finally flashed into my brain. What I was destined for was a career in porn. This would be even better than prostitution because my partners would all be beautiful. Well-hung men, gorgeous women, and if our personalities ever clashed I was sure I’d be able to convince the producers to change their personnel. I was that skilled.
I mentioned this to my family. As supportive as they were, they still wanted to make sure I made the right choice. We talked about it honestly for days. They said they would stand behind my decision – and pay for me to get set up in Hollywood – on one condition. They wanted me to go to college first so that I would have a job to fall back on if things didn’t pan out.
Because they were so cool and respected me, I again decided to be cool with them. After high school, I went to community college and got a nursing degree. Following these two years, my desire to become a porn star hadn’t waned. I’d gotten a little more practice during my college days and learned some new moves. Ever heard of the Croatian Knuckle Whirl? Divine!
But now I was free to do what I wanted. Having had two years to think this through, I decided to have an audition tape made. This way, I wouldn’t show up to porn companies empty-handed. As much as I enjoyed sex – and now I did more than ever, if that was possible – I didn’t want to be subjected to the whole casting couch stand-by. I wanted to have sex on my terms, not be coerced into it.
Convincing my boyfriend Robert to star in the video with me wasn’t so hard. We were a semi-new item, not really serious, and any promise of pussy was enough to make him agree to just about anything. More difficult was the issue of camerawork. I didn’t just want to put the camera on a tripod like some kinky honeymooning Mormons. No, it had to be professionally filmed.
I raked my brain for several hours until the answer – the epiphany! – stared me in the face during dinner. While my parents cleared the table, I gazed upon my brother Gavin’s face. He had just graduated high school and at the end of summer he was moving to Florida for an intensive film program. I’d been looking for a professional videographer and I’d found a genuine artist.
“Gavin, could you meet me out back in a little bit? I have something I need to ask you.”
“Okay, no problem.”
He smiled sweetly at me. He was such a good kid. I felt bad for all the crap he’d had to put up with at Lancaster High. But now that school was over, I was certain he’d be able to start a new life.
Twenty minutes later, I went out in the yard and found him already there sitting close to the pool, playing Angry Birds. I pulled a chair and sat in front of him. He put away his game and looked at me expectantly.