JENNY GOES HOLLYWOOD

By

MADISON LANGSTON

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Madison Langston on
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Jenny Goes Hollywood

Copyright ©
2
012 by Madison
Langston

All rights reserved

This book is a work of
fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places,
events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters and
situations are products of the author’s imagination and used
fictitiously.

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An explicit excerpt from
Jenny Goes Hollywood:

Pushing my knees apart,
she kissed her way from my right knee up to my crotch, tongue
licking, teeth nipping. The scent of my arousal had reached me, so
I knew Lecia breathed my essence as well. The blue of her eyes were
half hidden by eyelids as she looked over my smooth mound,
searching for my response to her bold moves. My lust-filled eyes
must have encouraged her, because she leaned in and gave my pussy a
few tentative licks. Nudging my nether lips apart with her nose,
she inhaled deeply, moaned and began lapping me in
earnest

Paul had removed trousers
and underwear. His only garment a white shirt open down the front,
he reclined in the armchair, holding my damp panties under his
nose, inhaling their scent. With his other hand he stroked his
rigid erection with slow gentle caresses and watched his wife going
down on me.

The firm muscles of his
tight abs and arms rippled as his arm moved. As I watched Paul’s
palm pick up his leaking precum and smear it over the head and
shaft, my nipples tightened. His penis must have measured nine
inches; it was thick too; even in Paul’s large paw, it was a
handful. I yearned, to take its glistening head into my mouth and
taste it, feel its satin smoothness on my tongue and breathe his
masculine scent.

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JENNY GOES
HOLLYWOOD

By Madison Langston

Living in Hollywood in the
21
^st
Century is chaotic and sometimes a little dangerous,
especially for a young woman just out of college. But my college
advisors recommended Hollywood as the best place to break into
script writing, so here I am, waiting to be discovered as the next
great mover and shaker in the world of film-making. (Uh huh! Sure!
What I’ve discovered about that possibility is: Don’t hold you
breath!) Fortunately I’m not destitute; I come from one of those
moneyed families back east, so immediate success is not a
requirement.

I have to admit, though, that my
college advisors weren’t the only reason for my choosing to live in
Hollywood. Since I can remember, I’ve always felt trapped by the
culture in which I was born and raised, sexual mores being the
hardest part to deal with. While at Yale I found the lack of family
restrictions exciting and ventured into areas strongly disapproved
of by my parents. I tasted most of what college life had to offer
and along the way discovered the highs and lows of drugs were
definitely not for me. When it came to sex, though, it was another
story; I learned that I love sex. Except for those few life
altering experiences in college, I’d be stuck in the same cultural
quagmire that dictated my mother’s life.

Though my experiences were limited, I
did discover that I’m bisexual with a little more of a leaning
toward the homosexual end of the continuum. This knowledge would
have doomed me to a living hell, had I chosen to live around my
conservative religious family. With that idea in mind, I resolved
to move my life into a different circle. Hollywood, being a Mecca
for alternative lifestyles, seemed an ideal place for me. Now don’t
misunderstand, I’m not promiscuous. Aside from my few sexual
escapades in college, I’ve led a relatively sheltered and
controlled life. Actually most of my wild sexcapades have been in
the realm of fantasy. I moved to Hollywood looking forward to some
of those fantasies becoming real.

I wanted to get the feel of the “Old
Hollywood” as it was in the mid-20th Century, and luckily I found
the perfect place in the hills above Hollywood Boulevard. The house
was built before World War II, and I fell in love with it and the
many isolated nooks, both inside and out, where I can take my
laptop and meditate myself into the proper writing mood.

For three weeks I’d followed a strict
writing schedule. I was happy with my progress and decided it was
time to get out and see if I could come up with a little
excitement. I’d heard of a club over in the valley that sounded
interesting and decided to give it a try. It was Friday, an ideal
time to sample Hollywood Nightlife.

I selected a trendy one-piece black
dress, reaching just to mid-thigh. Half a dozen horizontal slits
revealed skin across the left thigh and hip with similar slits on
the long sleeves. I added black heels and checked the mirror. The
combination of my outfit and my long blond hair, gave me confidence
that I would stand out in most crowds, and deemed myself ready to
venture into the L.A Club Scene.

When I got to the club, I connected
almost immediately with a couple–a man and his wife. Paul was
probably mid-thirties and Lecia I judged to be early thirties. I
was alone at the bar when Paul approached and invited me to join
them.

From the moment my eyes met Lecia, I
was smitten. Her black wavy hair hung well below the shoulder
blades. Her smooth olive skin contrasted with the white chiffon
Roman style dress. Because of her coloring, I expected dark
brooding eyes, so I was startled when I found myself staring into
the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Her look of unabashed interest as
she met my gaze, made my pulse quicken. As we sat, Paul said, “I’m
Paul Anderson and this is my wife Lecia.”

“Jenny Crayton,” I said and offered my
hand. Lecia’s soft grip and the touch of her long fingers in the
palm of my hand shifted my fantasies into overdrive and I wondered
what those fingers might feel like caressing my naked
body.

“Hi Jenny,” Lecia said. “I hope you
don’t think us too forward, but we saw you sitting there and
thought you might like some company.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you asked me
over. Actually, that’s why I came here. I don’t know many people in
L.A. and tonight I decided to get out and see some of the city.”
Paul and Lecia exchanged a look, and I think a signal passed
between them, and then I added, “Interesting Club! Do you come here
often?”

Lecia said, “No. As a matter of fact,
this is our first time.”

Paul signaled the waiter and, as we
had a drink, the Anderson’s got right down to it and smoothly
worked their proposal into the conversation. They had come to the
club looking for a threeway. I was startled. I hadn’t expected such
openness. A threeway wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for getting
to know new people in a new city. My plan had been to get to know a
few people and then let closer relations develop naturally. The
more I looked at Lecia, though, the more difficult it became to say
no. After all, one of the reasons I’d moved here was to experience
a more open lifestyle, and a threeway was certainly a move in that
direction.

In less that half an hour we were on
our way to their place in Westwood. Paul suggested that Lecia ride
with me to show me the way. Lecia sat sideways, silently watching
me as I navigated the early evening traffic on the San Diego
freeway, heading south.

“Jenny, I hope you don’t think we do
this kind of thing all the time. Actually this is our first time.
We tried it two other times, but couldn’t find someone we were
comfortable with.”

“It’s not a problem. I wouldn’t have
come if not interested. I’ve never been in a threeway before. I
just hope I don’t get cold feet at the last moment.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be all right
with it either; I’ve never been with a woman before. I’ve always
wondered what girl/girl sex would be like but never had the
opportunity. Paul and I have talked about it for months. He’s so
excited to see me with another woman; I hope I don’t disappoint
him. As we said earlier, though, let’s just take it slow and see
how things develop. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” I changed the
subject by asking about their lives and found out that Paul is a
copyright attorney and Lecia a drama teacher at an area high
school. She had come to Los Angeles several years earlier and tried
breaking into film acting, but, when she met Paul, she gave that
up, went back to college and became a teacher.

*****

The Anderson’s home, a one level
Spanish style house in an upper middle income neighborhood, was
near the UCLA Campus. Paul had arrived a few minutes earlier and
set things up–soft lighting with music in the background. On a
coffee table centered between a small sofa and a matching armchair,
a bottle of white wine was chilling an ice bucket. The furniture
arrangement struck me as unusual, and I suspected Paul had arranged
it just for this get-together.

Lecia took my hand and guided me to a
position on the sofa then sat beside me. Paul poured the wine and
sat in the armchair. Obviously, they had planned for Lecia to be
the seductress, which suited me fine.

“You said you’re new to L.A. Where
from?” Paul asked.

“Connecticut. I just graduated from
Yale in June.”

“Major?”

“Filmmaking, with a specialization in
writing? I just finished the first draft of a script. In another
month or two, it should be ready for me to go out and pitch it.”
Paul was doing the talking, but I was acutely aware that Lecia’s
eyes followed my every move; so conscious in fact that her gaze
felt like a caress. Paul continued to ask questions. He was very
good at pulling information from me, and I talked freely of my
interest in Hollywood history. Regardless of what I talked about,
though, I couldn’t separate my mind from Lecia. She was inching
closer each time she picked up or set down her glass. When our eyes
met, I could see a hunger in them. She’d been unsure about making
love to a woman, but the look on her face told me she was
definitely ready.

Soon Lecia’s hand rested on my thigh
and when I didn’t flinch or draw away, her soft fingers found one
of the wider slits in my dress and caressed the pantyhose covered
skin beneath. As the soft fingers inched toward my center, I felt
my pussy swell and grow wet. The anticipation of being seduced by
this beautiful woman, while holding a conversation with her
handsome husband had my insides melting. My concentration on Paul’s
questions faltered. I didn’t want to answer any more questions, I
only wanted to lie back and let Lecia take me, ravish
me.

Then I realized Paul had stopped
talking. His eyes watched Lecia’s hand insinuate itself into the
large slit in my dress and move to my crotch. When her fingers
found the wet spot, I heard a moan push up from my throat. Leaning
back into the sofa soft cushions, I closed my eyes, and soon sensed
the closeness of Lecia’s face. I felt her breath on my face and the
firm touch of fingers trying to invade my pussy through the silken
barrier.

When Lecia’s lips touched mine, the
kiss was almost chaste, just gentle pressure, and then her tongue
traced a line directly to my ear where she nuzzled and nipped for a
moment before returning to attack my mouth properly. This time I
felt the passion of her kiss; her tongue forced my lips apart,
invading, searching.

When Lecia removed her hand from my
crotch, my eyes opened. She pulled back, and I saw hunger in her
expression. She brought her fingers, glistening with wet, to her
face, inhaling my scent, licking at the moisture. Her amazing blue
eyes searched mine for any sign of hesitation. Apparently finding
only lust in my gaze, she kissed me again and I opened, welcoming
the invasion of her tongue. Her hand found my left breast and,
through the fabric of my dress, traced a fingernail over and around
the erect flesh causing the center of my sex to clench, drenching
my already soaked panties, again. For a woman who had never had sex
with a woman, Lecia was amazingly intuitive.