Rating: NC-17
Original Date of Completion: January 2010
Disclaimer: This is all fiction, conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. That means it's 100% fake, and you can't sue me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disk 4: Random Encounters
Episode 3039-M
"Auditions, First Times”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lights brighten slowly, and the Confessions studio, in a state of disrepair, comes into view. The camera slowly pans the room, revealing plastic hanging from the walls, and covering the floor. Shoved into a corner is the red velvet sofa, the coffee table sitting atop its back, both covered in a thick layer of dust. The camera zooms in on that sight slowly, until the top of the coffee table can be seen, and on it a message written in the dust:
Forgive the mess, meet me in the Confessional.
♥ ~ N
Quickly the camera pants to the left, stopping at the Confessional Kiosk, awash with a red light. Inside sits Natalyn, laying sideways across “The Chair”, a glass of wine in her right hand. She smiles as she notices the camera, waving with her left fingertips as she moves to sit up properly in the chair. She winks at the camera, then brings the wine glass to her lips, downing its contents in one drink. She snaps her fingers to the outside of the Confessional, where Vincente suddenly appears, wearing tight jeans and a dust covered t-shirt, with a bright yellow hard hat on his head, and safety goggles over his eyes, carrying a blue power drill. She giggles as she sees him, smiling sheepishly as she holds up the empty wine glass. He smirks in reply, nodding as he hands her the drill, taking the wine glass from her in return. She looks quizzically at the drill, then glances at the camera, smirking as she presses the trigger on the drill, loudly revving its motor.
“I like a good power tool as much as the next girl, but I prefer something in a flesh tone,” She leans down to set the drill on the floor, then lifts back to smile at the camera. “Now, if you’ll pardon our dust, I can welcome you to a special episode of Confessions.” Vincente reappears then, carrying a now full glass of wine on his customary tray. Natalyn leans down once more to grab the drill, placing it onto the tray as she grabs the wine, blowing a kiss to Vincente and murmuring a quick “Thank you”. He nods in response, grabbing the drill from the tray, then walking with both back into the studio.
“As you can see, our studio is out of action this week,” She said with a smile, taking a sip of her wine. “So this week, we have no new Confession,” She pouted, jutting out her lip. She held that position for just a moment, before her lips curled into a devious grin. “But, we do have for you this week, smutaholics, three steamy auditions shot on location from various places instead of this chair,” She giggled, rubbing her hands over the arms of “The Chair”. “So this week I can call myself a Smutaholic, watching on TV just as you all do every week.”
She smiles, snapping her fingers again to the side of the Kiosk. Vincente reemerges quickly, pushing in front of him a big screen TV, the screen facing away from the Confessional. He parks the TV in front of the kiosk, shielding Natalyn from view, garnering from her muffled giggles. The camera pulls back quickly, focusing on the still blank TV screen. With a flash, the TV turns on, Natalyn coming into view on the screen, from her location inside the Confessional.
“I’ve never been upstaged by a TV,” She said with a giggle, taking a sip of her wine. “But, there is a first time for everything, and that is what we bring to you tonight with these auditions, three very different first times from three very different men,” She smiles, leaning back in “The Chair” and crossing her legs, the camera focusing in closer on the TV. “I believe, dear Smutaholics, that you’ll be surprised how very different first time hot hockey sex can be from man to man. So sit back and relax, and enjoy your three for one special this week.”
The camera slowly starts to pull back, more of the TV coming into view, before Natalyn clears her voice, and the camera zooms back in on the TV screen. Natalyn smirks and shakes her finger at the camera. “And keep the lotion handy, just in case, you never know what you’re going to get with auditions.” She said with a wink, waving her hand at the screen. The camera pulls back quickly this time, the studio’s destruction passing over the screen as the TV gets smaller in the view, until the screen fades to black.
* * *
Slowly the screen comes back to light, revealing an empty folding chair in front of a green screen. A CGI version of the Confessional Kiosk comes over the green screen, and a man walks out in a pair of plaid shorts and a ball cap on backwards, naked from the waist up. He sits down in the chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and gives a faint smile to the camera.
“My name is Zach Boychuk, and I have a confession to make.”
* * *
The first time Brandon and I fooled around, we were 15. We were out on the pond at his house, playing one on one, and as they usually did with us, things got too competitive. When I went around him to score what would’ve been the winning goal, he tackled me around the waist and dragged me down to the ice. We wound up wrestling around, just playful pushing and shoving, and I wound up breaking out of his headlock and straddling his ass. Unfortunately for then, fortunately for the long haul, I was a painfully naive kid, completely unaware of my own body. So I wound up popping wood, pressed inconveniently against his ass through a pair of sweats. He noticed, and in true Brandon fashion, made a joke to embarrass me, saying something stupid like I must’ve REALLY enjoyed the wrestling, I was REALLY happy to pin him down, etc.. That was honestly the first time I noticed my predicament, and as humiliating as that was, I was too competitive with him to let him have the last word. So I lied and told him that’s just how big I was normally, and to make a long story short, the rest of that immediate conversation erupted into “I bet MINE is bigger”, which in turn led to a friendly game of “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
Brandon had been my best friend since we were single digit ages, when his dad retired from hockey and they moved back to Alberta. We met at a hockey camp that first winter, and we hit it off immediately, him the tall and quiet kid, with the Sutter pedigree attached to him, and me the bold midget, wanting desperately to prove myself to everyone, especially the Sutter kid. We wound up playing on a line for most of that camp, and we pretty much dominated. Turned out we had great chemistry on and off the ice, and that much never changed. Which was probably why our friendship progressed to the level of showing our dicks to each other so easily. Now, you might think that standing on a sheet of ice in the dead of winter in Alberta isn’t the best time to play that game, and you’d probably be right on most occasions. But I was too damn excited for any shrinkage to happen, and it turned out that he was too. So there we stood, dicks in hand, both of us fully hard, just staring at each other’s respective junk. It was pretty obvious at first glance that neither had a huge size difference, if anything he was a bit thicker, but we continued to stand there and stare and mock each other with lies of being bigger. As we got older and talked about this occasion, neither one of us had the slightest idea what we were hoping to accomplish with that show, once the initial views were over. But, lucky for us, I wasn’t a shy kid, so I asked if he wanted to jerk off. At 15, neither of us were ever going to turn that down, not even at school. That’s a whole other story, though.
Jerking off ourselves led to jerking off each other in short order, as we continued to bicker about being bigger than the other. He was the first one to suggest using the same (as in his) hand to measure both of us, and that gave us the definitive answer that we were just about the same size. The only difference was I was circumcised and he wasn’t, which gave me the easy excuse of wanting to see how much thicker that made him than me, with my hand. My hand didn’t come off his cock again until he came, which was embarrassingly quick for the both of us; it doesn’t take much to get that worked up at 15. The rest of that afternoon is horny teenage boy history.
Our relationship only escalated from there, to the point where it became a relationship. I guess when you look at our history, it’s not too surprising that we wound up like that, we were always closer than normal best friends would be. He used to beat up guys that picked on me at school, which seemed to always lead to everyone else calling him my boyfriend; that never bothered us, though in retrospect now, it probably should have. Once he actually was my boyfriend, our bond just grew deeper, and the constant hanging out we’d always done just got a lot more naked. Which was awesome, who better than to learn about sex with than your best friend?
Blowjobs came shortly after handjobs, and we stayed on that lesson for quite a while. Neither of us could get enough of those, and I think the frequency of them helped us develop some stamina. For a while there, we could’ve changed our hockey numbers to 6 and 9, because we spent most of our time in the position those two digits combine to make. It was in that position that he first started to play with my ass, just gently rubbing over my hole with his fingertips when I started to get close to orgasm. The feelings from that just made the whole thing that more intense, so when he finally pushed a finger into me, I had the most amazing orgasm of my life, so much so I actually bit him as I came. His ensuing orgasm wasn’t near as good as mine, as one could imagine. But I more than made up for the next time we screwed around, because thanks to the internet, we made a swift and painful transition into anal sex.
Even with all our research, we probably had no business having sex when we did. It’s just a stupid thing for a couple of inexperienced teenagers to be doing, at least when it’s two teenage guys. We figured out our roles pretty quickly, we’d kind of always had those even before we were “together”, and we gathered what we thought were necessary supplies, in the form of an old jar of Vaseline. We were both virgins, so we didn’t think condoms were important to have, and neither of us wanted the embarrassment of going to buy them anyway. So with our new knowledge, and old Vaseline, we set a date for the next weekend when my parents and sister were out of town. Like so many teenagers, my parents’ bed seemed like the perfect spot for such an event, why I don’t know. Looking back now, using my bed would’ve made for a much better first time.
My parents had a waterbed at the time, which didn’t make it easy when trying to insert a greased up object into a tiny crevice. Every time he tried to press into me, the bed would move and he’d slip, and more or less stab me in the asscheek. We tried things like that for way more times than we should have, before we got the bright idea for me to bend over the footboard, while I was still kneeling on the bed. It worked that time, but I instantly wished it hadn’t, because when he eased the head into me, the immediate shock of pain made me shirk away from him, or at least try to. When I moved, so did the bed, and into me went seven inches of badly lubed cock without even a second for my body to adjust. I’ve never screamed so loud in my life, or felt quite so much pain. I’d also never seen Brandon look so guilty, or so concerned, and keep in mind he has Sutter eyebrows.
He tried to pull back as soon as he was in, but something in my stupid mind took control and I begged through the tears I was fighting back for him not to. He stilled inside me, and his voice got softer as he continually asked me if I was okay, if I was sure, that we didn’t need to be doing that. I could hear what he was saying, but I couldn’t find the words to respond, all I could think about was how much it hurt, how stupid I was for thinking we could do that. Then he slid his arms around my waist and settled his body against mine, pressing every inch of our skin together. It wasn’t an instant feeling of relief, I wish it was, but it was an instant feeling of calm. Being held like that, being connected to him like that, that brought out feelings I’d never experienced before. The pain didn’t subside by any means, it hurt like hell up until the final buzzer, but my mind drifted away from 100% focus on the pain, and into a thousand different directions of feelings and sensations.
It didn’t hurt the whole time. It was never completely comfortable, but the pain subsided to a dull ache, which was supplanted in the end by an earth shattering prostate orgasm, which left me on a high like I’d never experienced before, and left us with way too much clean up to do afterward. He didn’t come inside me that time, but not for lack of want on either end; I clenched too hard when I came that he freaked out and pulled back, and there was no getting back in after that.
I have no idea how long it lasted, “not very” would be an educated guess, but that’s probably a good thing. In the end, all that mattered was getting to share that with Brandon, getting to experience the most we could experience together. I didn’t think in that moment that I would ever feel quite so...weird, again. Getting penetrated for the first time is an experience that’s hard to put into words, and getting that with your best friend makes it even harder to explain. But I will say one thing about that first time, and at least in my mind, it sums it up. I fell in love with Brandon that day. Neither of us have looked back since.
* * *
“It doesn’t hurt anymore, so it’s easy to put the sex we have into words now. Fucking amazing, awesome, incredible, mind blowing. . .”
* * *
The screen fades to black momentarily, then comes quickly back to light, revealing the bright neon of Las Vegas on screen. The camera begins to zoom out slowly, revealing a lavish hotel room. The camera begins a gradual pan of the room, stopping at a leather desk chair, a man sitting in it facing away from the camera. The camera zooms in slowly on him, soft moans beginning to ring over the soundtrack. As the camera zooms in to his shoulder, it blurs to complete distortion, then clears in an instant from the opposite angle, facing the man of the chair, completely naked, with a blonde man knelt before him. The man in the chair finally notices the camera, looking up with a smirk as he threads his hands into the hair of the other man, guiding the head into his lap.
“My name is Brent Seabrook, and I have a confession to make.”
* * *
I’ve always been a bit slow on the uptake. In school I was always the last one to solve a problem, I’m always the last one to get a joke, stuff like that. So I guess it’s not surprising that it took me so long to realize that I was into guys. I probably should’ve figured it out as a kid, because my little brother had got it in his own regard before we even hit junior high, and had a long standing boyfriend named TJ before I’d even kissed a girl. Not that I was hot, or cool, enough to be kissing anyone at that age, but still. He knew way back then, and it wasn’t until well into adulthood, and after a whole lot of girls, that I even started to think I might be the same way.
I’d like to say it never felt right with girls, but that would be a load of bullshit. It felt awesome, tight wet holes to wrap around my dick on a nightly basis, what isn’t to like there? It’s the baggage that comes along with them that never felt right, the obsessive phone calls, the possessiveness, the constant “Are you fucking my friends!?” It’s all incredibly tiring, and I found myself more often than not just wanting to hang out with the guys, especially once I got to Chicago. Puckbunnies, it turns out, are even more psychotic than girlfriends. Fuck a girl one time in a bathroom at United Center, and suddenly you’ve got a stalker. What the hell, man, what the hell?
In Chicago, I found Duncan, who turned out to be my brother from another mother. If there’s such a thing as soulmates in the world, he’s mine, but in a completely platonic way. We had everything in common, and I never felt more at ease with someone in my life. We were basically joined at the hip as soon as I arrived in Chicago, so I learned a lot from Duncs. He’s a couple years older than me, he had a bit more experience with the world, so I looked to learn from him. I wound up learning a lot more than I thought I would, stuff I never would’ve thought I wanted to learn.
Duncan made it pretty clear to me from the get go that he was into guys, and clearer still that he definitely wasn’t interested in me. Looking back now, I realize that was meant to be an insult, but back then I was absolutely relieved, because I definitely wasn’t into guys and I didn’t want them interested in me. I couldn’t understand back then what Duncs would see in a dude, but I wasn’t going to think differently about him for it, after all I’d dealt with my brother and his girlfriend TJ for most of my life. Duncs was already my best friend by that point, and he seemed happy, so I couldn’t possibly object. No, my objecting was saved for my own life, and the parade of girls walk-of-shaming their way in and out of my bedroom, to the chorus of Duncan’s snickers.
I was stupid, though. I kept putting up with the drama, just figuring it was part of life, all the while watching Duncs and wondering why he had it so much better being gay. He tried to explain it, but Duncan isn’t the best orator in the world, and I’m not the best listener, so it never made sense. I couldn’t fathom what it would be like to do guys, the whole idea just never made sense. Then Toews and Kane showed up in Chi-town, and with Kaner came…herbal therapy, and things started to get a lot clearer under that influence. That might be because they fucked in front of me a bunch of times, or it might be what Kaner said to explain it to me:
“Dude, it’s like hanging out with your buddies AND getting off. What more can you ask for?”
Never let it be said that Kaner isn’t a wise philosopher when he’s baked, because his words struck me deep, and suddenly the whole “being with guys” thing didn’t seem so strange. Sure, fucking girls was nice, fantastic actually, but hanging out with the guys was so much easier. The guys didn’t have the drama and the baggage, they were more…comfortable, and at 23, comfort was the main thing I sought in life. So I said to myself “Might as well”, and decided to give the whole thing a shot. There was only one teensy problem I neglected to think about. . .
I wasn’t attracted to guys.
That put a hitch in my plans for fun and easy comfort, and I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed. It flat out sucked, enough to almost drive me, in my depression, back to the awaiting arms of whoever asked to suck my dick any given night. Almost.
Fate, it turns out, had different plans for me, and dropped a pretty Swedish boy into my lap. Literally, it turned out.
I’d met him a few times before his permanent call-up that spring, but I’d never really noticed him. Maybe that was because my mind wasn’t open to checking out guys back then, or maybe it was because he had really terrible Kaneresque hair, I’m not sure. All I know is this time when I saw him, I saw him, and I liked what I saw. The terrible hair was replaced with something short and spiky, and now that I was checking out guys, I realized there was a lot to check out on him. He was tall and slim, built like a swimmer underneath t-shirts that always seemed too tight for him to be wearing, he had an ass like I’d never seen before, despite being around hockey asses my entire life, and he had a smile...That’s what hooked me. The smile hooked me, and the ass sealed the deal.
I’m convinced at this point there is nothing cuter in the world than his smile. Not puppies, not newborn babies, not even kittens playing with puppies and newborn babies, there’s nothing that compares. When he smiles, the world lights up with those unfairly blue eyes, and gets sucked into those freaking dimples. The dimples seal it, man. When I see those, I want to simultaneously maul him, snuggle him, and pinch his cheeks. Those aren’t three things that are easy to do at the same time, but believe me, I’ve managed at this point. I’ve had plenty of time to practice, though.
I’m either more fly than I ever realized before, or he was pretty desperate, but it didn’t take much for us to wind up together. Like I’d done with Tazer the year before, I offered up my place for him to stay, so he didn’t have to live in a hotel, and he eagerly accepted. That gave us plenty of opportunity to bond, and so it turned out, to flirt. It was my good fortune he was into guys, and better fortune yet that he wasn’t the least bit shy. I’d heard in the past that foreign guys were a bit reserved, but my pretty Swedish boy was nothing of the sort. He was probably more ruthless than I was, to be honest, but I wasn’t about to object. It took me a while to figure out guys would be okay, then a while to FIND a guy that would be okay. Now that I had, AND he was into me, I wasn’t about to turn away any of his attentions. Especially once the naked ones started.
He made the first moves toward intimacy, to my great relief, and it was zero-to-sixty immediately. As soon as we were naked, he was kneeling, and I was gasping and gripping onto his shoulders to keep myself standing. I’d had plenty of blowjobs in the past, but this was a whole new experience; the scrape from his stubble along my dick, his strong hands on my balls, being unable to clench my fingers in his too short hair, it was unlike any other blowjob I’d had. All I could think in the early moments of his work was how different it was from anything I was used to, but it didn’t take long for those thoughts to drift to how much better it was from what I was used to. So it shouldn’t be surprising that my next thoughts were along the lines of “if the blowjob was better, how much better would the fucking be?”
The answer to that question seemed slow in coming, though in reality it was probably pretty quick. Nik didn’t move slowly, so I found out, he knew exactly what he wanted and just how to get it. I wasn’t about to stop him, because everything he wanted involved my dick, and overall I was grateful for the lesson. I let him guide me along, tell me what to do, teach me how to work a male body. I barely knew how to work my own, so I was flying blind when it came to his, but he showed me everything. His hands guided mine around his dick, showed me how to work his foreskin, showed me how to hold and stroke him exactly like he wanted. His accented moans and cursing rewarded my efforts, and his breathy begging for more just spurred me on. It was his own fingers that moved lower, first teasing at his hole, then pressing firmly inside. My hands were too busy squeezing his dick to help out, and the rest of me was too busy trying not to come all over myself from how hot that was to see.
I was mesmerized for way too long watching that show, my stroking him became idle at best, I just couldn’t stop watching his fingers work their magic. He had to eventually speak to get me back on track, but that just brought a whole other distraction, because his speaking was an order to lay back and let him take over. Needless to say, I eagerly obliged. Outside of my first NHL playoff game, I don’t know that I had ever been so excited in my life. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but judging by everything else I’d experienced that night, I had a feeling it was going to be fucking spectacular.
There was none of that first time disappointment for this first time. This time was off the fucking charts. Once I was laying back, he straddled me and lubed my cock, and then slowly sank down onto me. The immediate heat and squeeze around my dick was enough to make me gasp, which I gathered was a good reaction from the smirk on his face. He was in complete control of me then, and he knew it, so he took his time and dragged out every sensation until I was whimpering and begging for more. I was throbbing hard by the time his ass settled against my lap, I probably would’ve been completely content to stay still and relish the searing warmth around me. He had other plans in mind, though, and man, am I ever fucking glad he did. I never had a better orgasm in my life. The two others I had that night weren’t bad either.
* * *
“After that first time, I couldn’t get enough. We were fucking non-stop for weeks, and we’ve barely slowed down since then. Needless to say, I have no issues being into guys now, or at least being into Nik. That ass, man. . .”
* * *
The screen blurs to white, clearing quickly to reveal a locker room. Hockey players in various stages of undress can be seen as the camera pans the room, finally stopping at a large, empty locker stall. Slowly the camera zooms in, focusing on the name plate affixed to the upper shelf, revealing the name Cam Ward. The camera’s focus stays on the name plate until Cam Ward walks into the shot, fresh off the ice in full equipment. He drops down into his stall and pulls his jersey off, then turns to face the camera with a smirk.
“My name is Cam Ward, and I have a confession to make.” * * *
I’d never had a stalker before I had a Myspace. I never felt like I was important enough to have a stalker, but as soon as I had a Myspace, they seemed to come pouring out. Most of them were just stupid puckbunnies I wouldn’t look twice at, or autograph hounds desperate for me to help their collections with all of my teammates, I could easily ignore all of those. But there was one other I couldn’t, a friend request attached to picture of a buff, shirtless Italian named “Ricky” that I had to accept. I said yes initially just to see more of his pictures, which was how I noticed that “Ricky” was Rick DiPietro. Suddenly I found myself hoping he would be like everyone else that had added me.
He didn’t disappoint.
It started with devious little comments left on my wall, cheesy lines that I couldn’t take seriously; ‘Your legs must be tired, because you’ve been running naked through my mind all day’, ‘You must have a mirror in your pants, because I can see myself in them’, pathetic stuff like that. I laughed those off and called him a dork, but he didn’t stop. Instead came the emails, naughtier lines that I wanted to take serious; ‘You have no idea how much I want you’, ‘I’ll make you feel so good you’ll scream for me’, all kinds of verbal sex I’d find myself reading over and over throughout my day. That led to the instant messages, where that same lascivious talk came more frequently, to the webcam chats where I had to see that body as I read those dirty words, and finally to the phone calls where I got to hear all of that whispered in my ear, most times with that body still taunting me on webcam. All of this before we’d even met each other in person.
With all that build up, it’s not surprising we jumped into bed an hour after we met in person. It was his first game in Raleigh my rookie season, and we met up after the game. I tried telling myself all day to be good, to take things slowly, because I wasn’t the type to jump into bed with a guy I really didn’t know. I wasn’t the type to jump into bed with any guy back then, I had never even kissed one at that point. But then I saw him outside the arena, wearing black jeans and a tight grey t-shirt, v-necked to his sternum, smoking a cigarette while he waited for me. He smirked when he saw me, blatantly looking me over, and I knew right then that “good” wasn’t going to happen. I was going to be great, but there wasn’t going to be anything “good” about it. I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than “downright naughty”.
I had never been with a guy before, but not for lack of desire. I had just never met a guy that I wanted quite as bad as I wanted Rick. Still, I should’ve been smarter when finally giving in to lust, I should’ve taken more time than I did. I should not have decided to let him fuck me right there outside of me arena, bareback with our pants around our thighs. I shouldn’t have done that, no way no how, not a chance. Except I did, and four years of marriage later, I can’t say I’d do anything differently than I did. Even if I do know that I shouldn’t have been like that.
He never tried to hold back, though. As soon as he put that cigarette out, I kissed him, hard and deep like I’d wanted to do for the months leading up to that. That was as much control as I had that time, before he took over and shoved me back against the wall, kissing me even deeper and pretty much instantly going for my belt. That was the obvious sign to me that we were going all the way, and fast, so I did what any good virgin would do. I turned my mind off, and went with the flow, figuring my much more experienced partner would show me the way.
I wasn’t wrong. He was in total control, and I was more than willing to go along with anything he wanted. I never wanted anything more in my life than I wanted him, I was completely consumed with lust. So when he told me to turn around and brace myself on the wall, I did. When he shoved my pants down past my ass, and pressed a slick finger inside me, I let him. When he bit my earlobe and asked me if I wanted more, I begged him. He was quick to oblige, first with another finger, then a third, and finally I felt cock prodding at my opening. I only begged harder, and sluttier, until I felt the head slide into me, and his hand wrap around my cock. After that, all I could do was moan and tell him how good it felt.
You might think it was rough and painful in a setting like that, being my first time, but it wasn’t. It hurt, no question, but he wasn’t rough. He took things slow, and took his time, he concentrated more on how I felt than how he did. When he finally hit the base, he paused for minutes there, just wiggling his hips back and forth, letting me adjust, while he stroked my dick slowly. He didn’t start moving again until I said okay, and even then his pace was still slow and smooth. As time stretched on, he moved faster and faster, but by then it was my begging that goaded things on. His hand never left my cock the entire time, his grip just got tighter, his strokes faster. By the time he was growling against my ear that he was close, I was desperately trying to hang on myself. Still, I managed to hold it off until I felt his first shot. After that, I was done for. I still kinda tingle from that orgasm.
* * *
“Turned out he was right with all those emails leading up to that. I did scream for him, a whole bunch of times. And I might not have realized how much he wanted me to start, but I figured it out pretty quickly after that. I mean, when you run off in the middle of the playoffs to elope with a guy...”
* * *
The screen flashes back, then relights with the camera slowly pulling back to reveal the earlier big screen TV. As the camera pulls back to reveal the full frame of the TV, we see Natalyn sitting on top, her legs crossed at the knee. She turns her head to look at the camera and curls a finger at it, the camera zooming in on her.
“The common theme in those auditions is that they all wound up together in the end,” She said with a smile. “Say it with me now, ‘AWW’.” She giggled, moving her fingers in mid air as if conducting. “Never let it be said we don’t have hearts here at CinSports, even if it’s other body parts we’re more interested in.”
She smirked, uncrossing her legs as she scooted to the edge of the TV. “I promise, dear Smutaholics, we’ll reacquaint you with those in the usual vivid detail very soon.” She snapped her fingers to the back side of the TV, where Vincente quickly appeared, dressed in his more customary leopard print pajama pants. He smirked up at her and held his arms out, catching her easily as she jumped down into them sideways, throwing her head back on a laugh. “I’m going to reacquaint myself right now,” She said through her laughter, winking at the camera. “So until next time, I’m Natalyn Moore, and this has been Confessions.”
She snaked her arms around Vincente’s neck as he began to walk, carrying her around the TV, into the black of the studio. The camera follows them until they’re out of view, then begins a slow pan backward, stopping on the Confessional Kiosk, glowing with a dim purple light. The light gradually gets brighter, until the screen is blanked with purple and the closing credits begin to scroll overtop.
END Episode 3039-M “Auditions, First Times”
Back to Disk 4