Pornographer’s Daughter: Genesis


Pornographer’s Daughter: Genesis

This is the first in a series of stories. Each can be read independently. I anticipate half-a-dozen episodes, maybe more, plus a finale to wrap things up when I’m done. Look for an ordered list on my profile page. I will post at least two stories at the beginning to gauge reaction. Be sure to vote high and favorite them. Thoughtful comments are always welcome.

All characters depicted in sexual situations are over 18.



In The Beginning, a film I made as a side-project, paid for my house. I was working as an industrial videographer, turning out training films on bus repairs for public transit agencies who hired mostly inexperienced and sometimes illiterate mechanics to fix the vehicles your kids ride to school. A friend who owned an independent VHS rental store told me that under-the-counter porn generated a third of his sales. Yes – that was a long time ago when porn was void and without form or high-speed internet connections into every teenager’s bedroom.

So, one weekend I brought a crew into the rented garage/studio and reshot a script for a diesel valve job we already were filming. I hired a cheaper porn-version of Pamela Anderson and told her to bring a dick to play the other mechanic. We cut-up a set of overalls, leaving not much but the name tag. She fucked the wrenches and the dick. The stud worked on his own cars and did a credible job as our mechanic doing the valve job. The valve job he did on Pammy was more than credible; his Rigid tool performed well and repeatedly.

The next weekend, I cut the new principal photography into the existing training module and kept the original voice-over instructions. I added a little porn muzak in the background and ran up a hundred copies on our duplicator. At the end of the video, I added a slide with a P.O. Box and a message that this and other films could be ordered from – I just made it up – Genesis FilmCo. The name for the video followed the same logic – no logic at all.

I dropped off ten copies with my friend and told him I had ninety more in stock. In four days, he called to get the rest. He had liked it and gave it to one of his distributors. They wanted the whole catalog. The mailbox was jammed with inquiries and orders. At the end of the month, my friend gave me a check for five thousand dollars – he said that was my cut. I didn’t complain.

My lawyer created Genesis FilmCo as a Nevada corporation with my identity concealed by another paper entity. He also created a variety of film and film rights acquisition and license forms I could use. I spent two thousand dollars buying all the rights and master tapes for some old motorcycle and classic car repair videos from a failed company. I stuck with the formula. I shot new principal scenes using look-alike porn actors, and then I hired two part-time editors to weave them into the original videos as smoothly as they could without burning up too much time. The quality of old-to-new was terrible, but all the nudity and sex were well lit using pro porn stars.

Before the product work got started, my lawyer created a distribution company and negotiated a deal with an existing distributor. I told my lawyer to be a tough negotiator, but to let them win a bit on the money, but to make sure that we learned the business and ended up with lists of customers. Then I sent catalog sheets to everyone who had inquired from the first video, and to everyone else in the business directory related to the porn industry. I hired an accountant/bookkeeper in the same business park to do the books on the condition that they would ramp-up to handle any order taking and collections work. At the end of six months, not six days, I rested.

And I bought a house, new video production equipment, rented a warehouse to use as a sound stage, and contracted with several young film school grads to bring their own teams to shoot at my locations with my gear. I made sure to keep post-production and distribution in my hands.

The business has changed a lot since then. Now I own data center space in Amsterdam, and a few other places around the globe. Everything’s online. The old sound stages are now video-on-demand sets. I’m looking for locations off-shore where the laws are favorable, and where I can convince blonde SoCal girls they will have fun and good pay for a month. Sorry – trade secret – I’m not giving it away.

It’s a tough business. Everyone wants free porn, and there is lots of competition that is not always as polite and non-violent as me. I don’t mess with the Russians or the Ukrainians; that’s too bad – the girls are beautiful. Security is expensive. Technology is expensive. Top talent can be expensive, but there is a steady stream of new actors wanting to get into the business. So while I’m not one of the super-rich, and I can’t buy a large country, I can rent small politicians, and I can afford anything you can think of except death and taxes. I was getting good at avoiding both.


Today ataşehir escort bayan was one of the days I didn’t like. My first contract with look-alike Pam, way back at the beginning, was something I wrote up, not my lawyer. Once a quarter, Pam showed up at my office, expecting a big check even though that old video was dead-and-gone. To avoid a court fight where my new lawyer said she might win a quarter of the company, I paid her. Each year I paid a little more; each year, I had her sign a release as my lawyer tried to extinguish any claim she might make. Each quarter I told her I was happy to cut her a check even though I didn’t need to and could stop anytime. So, each quarter I had her give me a blowjob. Even older look-alike Pam is hotter than anyone at your office, and she gave a professional blowjob.

I said, “You are the only girl in the world getting $5,000 for a blowjob. It’s worth every penny.”

Pam-a-like looked up at me and tried to smile with my cock in her throat. “unk u,” she gurgled. She pulled off my cock and started jacking it. “Thank you. I may have to stop. Both my therapist and my pastor say it’s wrong, but I need the money.”

“How about I just send you a grand a month for old-time’s sake? I’ll have my lawyer write up a new contract. Just go by his office to sign it. Plus, I’ll still hire you for special events, if you want to work. Now that porn’s online, there is a customer for everything,” I said. It was true. There were a surprising number of porn searches for Botox-fail sex videos. She could still make me money.

“Now, what do you want to do with this load?” Pam asked as she pumped me.

“Since this might be our last, I want to paint that pretty face,” I said. I stood up from my desk chair and started jacking my cock. Pam settled on her knees with a groan and looked up. As I squirted my usual globs on her, I said, “I’ll call you Helen of Troy, the facial that launched a thousand clips.” I used my cock to smear my cum around on her face. “We’ll always have Paris – or maybe, One Night in Paris.” In my book, that’s the funniest porn ever made. Hot!


After Pam left, I called my lawyer to tell him the good news. He said he would set up a separate company to consolidate and isolate all her claims from the rest of my business. For fun, I dialed up the old video to watch the heiress do her best work. I was rooting for the blonde, not the jerks she was jerking. After a while, my daughter came into my office. I had heard someone come in through the garage while I was busy with Pam; I figured it was Traci home from college. She was early; I wasn’t expecting her until later in the evening.

“Hi, Daddy,” Traci said as she plopped down on the couch. She looked troubled or distracted.

“Hi, baby. You’re home early. Should we order delivery, or do you want to go out for dinner? And, why so glum?”

‘Oh, just thinking,” she said. “I talked to that old porn hag as she was leaving. I hate that she is still coming here. I saw what you were doing. I’m thinking of quitting school.”

Shit, not this again. I said, “Three classes before graduation? Good plan – I can’t wait to hear the details. That settles it – we’re going out to Truants for dinner. Get dolled up. I’ll get you drunk on fine wine, which I can afford, thanks in part to that old hag. Now, scoot. I’ve got some work to do before we go.”

Traci always hated how I made my living. When she was in high school, she told people I made toilet plungers; she thought it was ironic and witty. I didn’t blame her. We lived in the most expensive neighborhood with the best schools. I can guess it was too embarrassing to say what I did, even though she always had great clothes and a new car.

When it came time for college, she refused to go to film school. I was disappointed but not surprised. Instead, she wanted to go to a nearby small, private, expensive liberal arts school to major in women’s studies. I told her I would pay if she double-majored in technology, or pre-law, or business. The college was near the beach – she chose business. She liked the college, she liked her friends, but she never really liked the program. Now she had three business classes to finish for her degree: two finance classes and a business ethics class. She wanted to go to Europe with her friends this summer, I knew, not do the math or write the ethics paper.


All eyes turned toward us at Truants. I’m 47, tan, fit, good haircut, nice clothes, not Hollywood-handsome but presentable. They weren’t looking at me. Traci looked like a modern Grace Kelly; I’m not sure everyone appreciated the comparison. Grace, or rather, Her Serene Highness Princess Grace of Monaco once she married, was an actress who still sets the bar for blonde screen goddesses. Grace was tall, cool, smart, and playful on-screen. She looked refined and elegant in every scene and made everything she wore seem like the most important clothes in the world. And escort kadıköy she was a guy’s girl who could spar with the best. That was her film persona; it seems the Prince thought so, too; in real life, he gave her a role she carried with dignity her whole life.

Traci reminded me of that Grace with the way she carried herself and was comfortable in every situation except talking about what her father did for a living. She shouted feminist slogans at me for her first two years at college but had stopped without further comment. She dated, and had brought a few young men home, but only for one visit; I never saw any of them twice. She was continually reading good books, plus a few trashy novels, that I picked up from the table by the pool. Her mother had been a reader; she split early-on for a literature professor she met in England. For Traci’s eighteenth birthday, I gave her rally-style track driving lessons, and a classic convertible 450SL from the 70’s that I had rebuilt for her with stiff race suspension, brakes, roll-bar, and a re-tuned engine. On the highway, she was a safe driver, but out on the coast road, she used her track skills more than I liked to drift in the corners. She was good at everything she worked at with diligence. Somehow, her educational program was not getting her attention.

For dinner with me, she wore a slim-fitting dark grey skirt, heels, her pearls, and a sheer dark blue silk blouse she had left mostly unbuttoned. No bra – her large breasts moved freely under the silk. No stockings and no panty lines – every guy checks every girl. When she sat down at her table, I got a glimpse of one pink nipple. The waiters seemed determined to get several more peeks; I don’t think she let them.

“Look, baby,” I said. “I know what you want. And thanks for dressing for me – you look sexy and sophisticated. I know you want to join your friends for the grand tour. That’s not going to happen. You know what I want.”

I stopped talking while the waiter poured an excellent chilled pinot blanc from Oregon to go with our appetizers. “I want you to finish school,” I said as we clinked glasses and sipped.

“So here’s the deal I’m willing to make. You finish the three classes during the summer. You can do all three in the first session if you want. I’ll give you a part-time job at the studio with an office in the accounting department. When you pass with good grades, you can catch up with your friends in Italy and go to Greece. You’ve already seen the museums and sights in London and Paris many times with me or your mother,” I said.

“But Daddy,” she started. I cut her off.

“Nope. But if you do all that with style, I will fund six more months of modest travel, if you promise to come home with a plan for yourself,” I said. I slurped an oyster, took a sip of wine, and broke off a piece of the crusty bread.

It was a risk. Traci was smart, determined, and so very beautiful. I knew I couldn’t hold her if she ran away. But something had been eating at her for a while. I knew she was practical when it suited her.

“So that’s it. Now, let’s have some great food, and run up the bar bill while we negotiate the details.”

With that, she was in. She drove a hard bargain. Somehow, a new Italian convertible got added to the bill. In the end, she was laughing. She asked, “How’s your love life? I’m hoping today wasn’t it.”

We had always had a great relationship other than the one source of tension – my work. I said, “That’s not a love life – that’s a business insurance payment. I go out on dates or go for a weekend rut occasionally – nothing serious. I like smart women; I like gorgeous women; I want a guy’s girl; I want them all in the same package. And they can’t freak out at the company events. That’s hard to find. How about you? I haven’t seen you with anyone lately.”

Her face took on a gauzy soft-focus. “There is someone I want; he doesn’t know. He’s – older,” she said, and she looked a bit nervous. “I’m afraid you won’t approve.”

“Baby, that rich little prick you pretended to date when you were fifteen is the one I threw out. He was older. I haven’t liked the guys you’ve brought home, most of them anyway. They seemed decent enough, but I didn’t see any attraction. You seemed to be going through the motions. You’re grown up now, and I know you have good judgment even when I don’t agree with you. When I see you happy with someone, I will be happy with your choice. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy. I’ve made my choice. He always makes me happy and all tingly.”

I felt her foot sliding up my leg. She sipped her wine and licked her lips. Her foot stroked my thigh, and then her toes touched the growing bulge in my pants.

“Baby, what are you doing?” I whispered.

“Letting my man know I am ready for dessert.”


Traci fondled my cock while we drove back to the house. My head was spinning. My cock was hard. I didn’t know what to do. The most beautiful, most perfect girl in maltepe escort the world, my princess, wanted to fuck me. But, oh shit, she was my daughter.

“Daddy, I know you are shocked. Let’s just go home. We can work it out,” she said.

That sounded reasonable. It was unreasonable, it was madness, that she then unzipped my trousers and pulled out my hard cock and started stroking it. I’m not huge – I can’t star in any of my videos – but for a civilian, as Pam always said, I was respectable.

“It’s perfect,” Traci said, “oh, Daddy. I knew it would be. I’ve peeked before.”

Traci unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over into my lap. She kissed the tip of my cock and licked the pre-cum. Then she twirled her tongue around the sensitive edge of the head. I moaned. She sucked the head and slowly stroked my shaft. When I turned uphill onto the street to my house, she sucked my cock into her mouth and pumped me against her tongue and sucked tightly with her lips.

As I pulled into the garage, she sucked me into the back of her mouth. She opened her throat to push herself down more onto my cock. I could feel myself slide into the incredible tightness of my daughter’s throat. I hoped she learned that from one of my websites, and not practical experience. But I didn’t care. I started fucking her throat.

“Baby, I’m going to cum.”

Her fingers pinched the base of my cock and held it. She lifted herself off my cock and kissed my cheek.

Traci said, “Not yet, Daddy. I have plans for you tonight.” I almost came just from hearing her talk like that.


In my bedroom, Traci undressed me and folded my clothes, and hung up my jacket. She guided me onto the bed and then gripped my erection while she scraped her nails against my skin: my chest, my feet, my thighs. She pinched my nipples gently, then gave them a hard twist and pulled them while she squeezed my cock.

“I’m going to fuck you, Daddy. I’ve wanted to for so long. I brought all those nice boys home to compare them to you. They couldn’t win – I only wanted you.”

Traci stood up and undid the zipper and catch of her skirt. It dropped into a pool at her feet. In the low light, I could see the wispy blonde hairs she had shaved into a triangle. I could see her clit starting to peek out of her tight slit. Her long legs were tanned and strong. She had taken swim and tennis lessons for years and was a competitive amateur doubles player at the county clubs.

She unbuttoned the few buttons holding her blouse and slowly shrugged it off her shoulders. It drifted to the floor. The nipples were pointed up and erect on her large breasts. There was no sag, but they were full. I wanted to cup them; I wanted to feel their weight in my hands.

The bed shifted as she straddled my chest. Traci leaned forward; her beautiful face and blonde hair filled my eyes in a close-up. Then she moved to place her beautiful pussy above my face. Her pearl necklace dangled and gleamed. With her fingers, she spread her lips that parted with a wet sound. I could smell her arousal; she had a fragrance like roses.

“Lick me, Daddy. Taste your little girl,” she said. She lowered herself onto my tongue.

She tasted like sweet cream. I pressed my tongue against her clit, and with slight pressure, slowly started a small lapping movement. My hands roamed up her sides to her breasts; I rolled and pinched her nipples gently. Then I held her hips while I increased the speed of my tongue against her sex.

“Oh, Daddy!” she cried out as she came. Her nectar coated my face. She scooted down so she could kiss me. We kissed, gently at first, then with a rising passion. My cock was raging.

Traci sat up and positioned my cock at the entrance to her tunnel. She was slick with her passion. With the tip in, she rose and fell to stroke my cock just a little as a tease.

“I’m yours, Daddy,” she said. She plunged down on my cock. I could feel her hymen break – she winched and paused while she collected herself. My daughter had been a virgin. How is that even possible? She moved me out and into her pussy in long, slow strokes.

Traci looked into my eyes and said, “Love me, Daddy.” Then she rolled her hips; she squeezed me tight with her cunt. She said, “Fuck me, Daddy,” and she rode me hard until I came in gushes into the sweet cream and roses pussy of my beautiful daughter. As I erupted into her, she came, and then again.

She lay beside me and snuggled as we talked. It was so wrong, of course, but it felt so right. She was like her mother in some ways. She was smart, beautiful, and determined. But, unlike her mother, she was a talented and enthusiastic lover.

Traci held my cock while we talked – I love that. After a bit of recharge time, it started to get firm. She sucked it into her mouth and fluffed me until I was hard. Oops, sorry – no shop talk. I rolled her over and mounted her in the traditional way, man-on-top missionary style. Many of my sex partners over the years said I was the only man who got them to cum in this position. It’s easy – all you have to do is know a little anatomy and care enough about your lover to do something with the knowledge. At rally races, it helps to have a decent car, but the skilled driver wins the day.

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