Hollywood’s Fallen Angels: Sandy

Hollywood’s Fallen Angels – Sandy Ch. 1

Hello fellow Literotica fans. What follows are excerpts and edited highlights from my Hollywood’s Fallen Angels story. This story explores how bright, young adults descend into the murky world of the Los Angeles porn industry. Set in 1980 at the beginning of the “Greed is Good” decade Sandy, a 19-year-old Oklahoma native with dreams of stardom flees her abusive stepfather for the bright lights of Hollywood. Follow her fascinating and torrid journey as this starry-eyed dreamer descends into the shady depths of L.A.’s mushrooming porn industry.

Just a head’s up this story builds using character development coupled with sex scenes, so if you’re looking for only sex scenes and nothing else this may not be the story for you. But if you enjoy getting into a character’s life, loves, hopes and dreams coupled with ultra-specific sex scenes than I think you’ll like this story.

Note, this is an experiment to see whether you like this type of story pacing and style. If you do, please provide a few thoughts about what you felt about the story. And if not, please let me know that too. Your comments help me adjust my writing style for you, my audience. Thank you and enjoy!

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The familiar tunes of my hometown radio station had slowly been replaced by the hissing of static as I drove westward toward the Oklahoma border. My favorite song, “I’m All Out of Love” was now just a faded memory. It had been the last song I could hear before the signal faded.

I don’t know why I keep the radio dial still tuned there. Maybe it’s my way of not letting go of the past. Maybe I’m trying to hold on to something familiar.

I remembered the last time I heard that song, just before my 19^th birthday. I was lying naked next to my first true love. Both of us breathing heavily, spent, sweating from our recent bonding. He was my best friend’s older brother. The back seat of his parent’s big Delta Eighty-Eight had been the place where my love became physical. It was there I had given my body, mind, and soul completely to him. I converted my adoration into the physical passion of connection.

That song became the soundtrack of our bodies becoming one. I remember the smell of our love; musky, sweet and salty. I rest one hand on the steering wheel while absently-mindedly playing with my hair, singing the lyrics of my favorite song to the wind while thinking back to that night.

We started by smoking weed in the back of his parent’s car. Besides feeling high pot also made me horny. I knew he wasn’t aware of it, but it didn’t matter. I had a huge crush on Stu, and I wanted to take this feeling as far as it would go.

The back seat of the car was huge. Perfect for messing around. We kissed each other with passion. He opened his mouth, and I joined him, our tongues penetrating, probing, exploring. Turned out he was an amazing kisser. I enjoyed it immensely.

At some point his hands roamed to my breasts. My nipples responded. The feelings of his hands on me flooded tingles of pleasure to every nerve-ending and opened my desire for more than kissing. I relished when Stu started undressing me. It seemed to take forever, and no time at all, but soon he had removed all my clothes. I was naked, feeling so naughty yet so turned-on as his excited eyes explored my exposed figure.

Thinking of this vivid memory I became even more turned on. I looked up the interstate ahead, the nearest vehicle was over a mile away. I looked in the rearview mirror. Same.

As I thought about Stu undressing me, I reached under my t-shirt, reaching for and feeling my boobs and toying with my nipples. My breath quickened, my skin flushed. Perhaps it was the exhibitionist in me, but I enjoyed playing with myself on the open road as I thought of my night with Stu. Nothing was around me but the broad grasslands of western Oklahoma, the late evening sun and my building passion.

I went back into the memory of that night.

Stu knew what he was doing. He was a good lover. He caressed my body as he explored every inch of me. I shivered, yet my body glistened, and I felt hot.

I helped him shed his clothes. I enjoyed kissing each bit of his exposed skin. I breathed in his musky scent.

Although Stu was my first crush, he was not the first man I had been with. As he massaged my breasts with clumsy, excited passion I placed my fingers on his to show him how I liked my sensitive nipples to be pinched and pulled. The fingers of his other hand trailed down my chest, stomach, bellybutton.

His touch was electric. My breathing and passion deepened. His fingers continued on their journey downward to my mound. I arched my back to meet his touch. As he touched my wet and open sex I sighed in mounting desire.

Remembering our passion made me feel even hotter as I drove across the interstate. My hand moved instinctively down from my boobs to my jeans. I unbuttoned them. My fingers pushed to my damp panties. I slid my fingers around the soft, thin material. The heat from my swollen, hot lips made me even more excited.

I rubbed myself as I went back into my memory of that magical time with Stu.

Stu’s fingers probed my slit, stroking my wetness. He slid up, down and around my sensitive inner lips. As I kissed him, I moaned into his mouth. His fingers circled my sex, becoming moistened by my ever-increasing wetness.

He brushed his wet fingers against my enlarged button, causing me to gasp with delight. My hips pushed upward to meet his exploring fingers. But he stopped kissing me and sat back, admiring the view of my enflamed lust. I cried out in frustration. He smiled as he knelt down toward me.

His strong arms spread my legs with gentle but steady pressure to open me wider. I helped him by scooting my hips down lower on the seat and pulling my legs and knees up. He placed my right leg on the back of the back seat.

I draped my left leg over the back of the front seat, giving him full access to my most intimate desire. His eyes danced with yearning as he ogled my naked, wide-open form. I watched his swollen manhood bob with his heartbeat.

Excited by this memory I looked up and down the Interstate again. No cars closer than a mile away. I pushed my fingers under my panties with abandon. I groaned as the feeling of my fingers sliding up and down the wetness of my hot folds enveloped me. The air felt hot as sweat formed on my skin.

I licked my lips and fell back into my erotic memory.

Without taking his eyes off mine Stu moved his face down to my swollen breasts. He kissed and tongued my aching nipples. I shivered with excitement as his tongue flickered over them like a moth on a light.

After a few moments of bliss, he moved lower down my body. He kissed and tongued my stomach, belly button, and mound. He teased me, hovering his face over my now swollen and distended button. He breathed on it. His hot breath sent a surge of pleasure through me. I moaned. He kept his eyes on mine as he reached his tongue out ever so slowly to touch it.

I watched his tongue as he finally touched me. Like a butterfly landing on a flower petal his light touch drove me insane. I cried out as pleasure burst through me from his delicate touch. His tongue flicked up and down and back and forth, bringing me to ever higher levels of exhilaration.

My head fell back. I shut my eyes tight as I groaned. I shoved my hips into his face to push harder onto his cavorting tongue. My excitement swelled as my legs shook. I was close.

Stu took me into his mouth and sucked, flicking his tongue quickly over my swollen button. I moved my legs around him and clamped tight on his back. My hands pushed his head down deeper into me as orgasmic fireworks exploded and I become one with pure sexual exhilaration. Spasm after spasm of ecstasy filled every cell of my body.

In my car my breathing became ragged as I gasped with the memory of the intensity of that orgasm. My fingers swirled around my sex, lightly penetrating it, feeling the heat and wetness. I felt my orgasm building. I was close.

I slipped back into my memory of that blissful night.

After my first orgasm, Stu waited patiently for my sensitivity to subside. He gently stroked my hair, my face, my body. After a few minutes of most-welcome caresses he sensed I was ready. He moved his hot, sweaty body up on top of me. With a light touch he kissed my mouth, the sides of my neck, the lobes of my ears, and my fluttering eyelids. I inhaled his musky, man-salt aroma. His hard shaft brushed my soaked mound. I loved the feeling and prelude of what I knew was to come and grew excited again.

I reached for his hard member and guided it down to my hot, wet, ready sex. He circled it for a while, teasing me. The little loops he made with his wet, slippery tip drove me wild. I wanted him inside me. I bucked my hips up, trying to achieve the desired penetration. He teased me, not entering, just circling. Taking control of our love-making. He paused.

Our eyes met, I could tell he couldn’t hold off for a second more. His deep gaze never wavered as he slid his hard shaft up against my open, willing entrance. He entered ever so slightly, and ever so slowly. He paused, allowing me to get accustomed to his girth. After a moment he pushed and inch deeper, then waited. Then a bit deeper, again a pause. And deeper. He filled me until he was all the way in. I felt his pubis on my button. Electric bolts of pleasure burst out from it like mini lightning bolts. I cried out as I hugged him tight. After a teasing pause, he pulled out slowly.

Another pause, then he pushed deep again, driving me wild with lust. He increased the tempo of his pumping, filling me again and again. Faster and faster. Harder and harder. I pumped my hips to match his thrusts in a perfect carnal dance. Each powerful thrust caused a sensual groan to escape me. I felt the warm tingle blossoming outward from my sex. I was close, and it was going to be a big one.

I continued driving down the almost empty Interstate feeling incredibly sexy. I slipped a finger into my hot, wet sex. I felt so sensual and nasty as I masturbated in my car. I loved being this open, the exhibitionist in me reveling in her new-found erotic dance on the open road. I inserted another finger, sinking even lower in my seat, allowing my fingers to penetrate even deeper. The slish, slush, slish sounds of my pumping fingers turned me on even more.

I went back into my memory of that hot night with Stu.

Perhaps Stu realized how close I was. He increased his speed, grimacing as he churned his hips into mine. It became difficult for me to keep up with him. My breath was fast and shallow, erotic eagerness coursing through my veins.

We kissed. Our tongues intertwined as we replicated what was occurring inside me. His thrusts were faster and stronger, then faster still. My toes curled, my legs shook. I couldn’t breathe. My skin felt hot and wet. I panted as I moaned into his mouth. His hot, strong body on top of me felt so wonderful. I never wanted it to stop!

Feeling an explosive orgasm about to overtake me, I locked my legs around him. My arms wrapped around his broad shoulders in a tight grip. My nails dug into the flesh of his powerful back. I cried as came. I screamed as my body flooded with ecstasy. Wave after wave of pure elation shot from the tips of my toenails to the ends of my hair. Stimulated by my orgasm, Stu hit his peak. He pulled out and sprayed my stomach with his hot white cream as he grunted, his face screwed up in an orgasmic grimace.

I couldn’t hold back. I fought to keep the car straight as my orgasm burst through me like a million shards of ecstasy. My body convulsed and I cried out. I shook and held on as the intense pulsations overwhelmed me.

As I calmed down in my car and my breathing returned to normal I thought about that next week with Stu. We had repeated our love-liaisons several more times. So it had devastated me when he dumped me a week later. The pain is still all too real. I shrug to nobody, trying to convince myself it was just another little life lesson in my journey toward maturity.

I crank my window down slightly to breath in some fresh air and replace the smell of my memory. The natural scents of the great prairie greet me. Gone are the urban smells of gas fumes and trucks and asphalt. Here I am awash in the aroma of fresh green grass and hay. Pastures and huge plowed fields extend in all directions.

The gas gauge needle caught my attention. It hovered above the dreaded “E.” For a five-year-old car, my Dodge Dart was still in good shape. But it sucked down gas faster than my little brother sucked down Dr. Pepper. At least it was mine though. Finally.

Once I was old enough I worked part-time jobs to get the money to buy my car. And secretly, I had saved a bit of every paycheck to go into my Hollywood fund.

I got the car. And I scrimped and saved a thousand dollars to get me started in Hollywood.

I prayed it would be enough.

I focused on the falling gas needle again. Having to stop to get gas was going to be an uncomfortable situation. Being alone, and with my entire world stuffed into the trunk and back seat made me feel especially vulnerable. But it was a necessary evil, one I would have to repeat over and over again if I were to reach heaven. Hollywood. And my new non-fucked-up life.

Ahead, the sun set before me in a brief blaze of crimson and gold. The wide-open but darkening vista and huge, dull-red towering clouds brought my thoughts to the road ahead, and my future.

My thoughts turned to G-ma. My granny took care of my brother and I for several years. Our mom would disappear for weeks, or more typically months at a time. She would suddenly reappear, gaunt, wild-eyed, with many bruises on her arms. She would burst into our world for only a day or two, like a mini-Tasmanian devil. She babbled a lot and always begged G-ma, me, or my little brother for money. Afterwards she’d vanish again. No word of where she was going, nor when she might get back.

While staying with G-ma I became enamored with Hollywood. But not the current Hollywood. No, I fell in love with the old Hollywood. G-ma would watch any and all old black and white movies on TV. And I would be right there with her.

From Bacall and Grable to Vivien Lee and Shirley Temple, I loved them all. I associated Hollywood with the safety, security and stability I felt in the arms of my G-ma while we watched our movies together.

Probably from all the movies we watched, even at that early age, I knew I wanted to become an actress. I forced my little brother to join me as we acted out little plays. We would put shows on for G-ma on the back porch. G-ma would always hoot and holler and applaud loudly at the end of each of my plays. She was the biggest fan any Hollywood star could ever have.

I joined the school drama club when I was older and acted in as many plays as I could. I loved being on stage, playing a character, living another life. I loved the applause, and knew this life was my heaven. G-ma came to every single one of my school plays.

After G-ma got sick and passed away we had to live with my abusive Uncle and his taciturn wife. Life became unbearable, and I dreamed of escape to Hollywood.

Tired from the journey and my emotions I finally pulled into a motel. I fell asleep dreaming of movie stars, Hollywood boulevard and fancy dress parties.

The next day back on the road I gazed far westward, marveling at the massive dust devils dancing on the horizon. It was if God had spun large invisible tops that gathered dust from the desert and spun it up hundreds of feet into the air. Spinning and twisting, they tiptoed and twirled out in the distant heat-shimmering flatlands like giant ballerinas.

I felt they were a sign there was so much more to this world than asphalt, cars and people. Thoughts of my past retreated with the miles fleeting behind me. I focused on the future in the emptiness of this immense desert. I felt closer to my Creator than I ever had. For the first time on my trip I felt at peace, free and excited for my Hollywood dream. I laughed with a light heart.

Hollywood, here I come!

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After finally reaching Hollywood I was bitterly disappointed. Turns out the Hollywood of 1980 did not possess the glamour of the Hollywood of the old black and white movie days. The city was dirty, the alleys full of trash. Empty store fronts were the resting place of beggars and thieves. Used condoms and rusty needles littered the streets.

A week later and running low on money I finally found a room to rent. I’d retreated westward away from the grime of Hollywood to a Los Angeles suburb, Woodland Hills. An apartment just for myself was too expensive. I rented a room in a small condo close to a TGI Fridays where luckily I’d found a waitress job. I was relieved I finally found a place as my Hollywood funds were almost exhausted.

But I hadn’t spent my time only looking for a place to live. I also attended casting sessions, none of which went anywhere. Even minor rolls had dozens and dozens of women of all shapes and sizes trying out. I was disappointed but determined to keep trying.

The tip money at Fridays were not great. Financially I was barely making it. Making it worse, inflation kept causing gas, food, and my living expenses to go up. I did my best, but I was always late paying my roommate Kim the rent and utilities. We had frequent arguments about money and my late payments. Try as I might, I just couldn’t catch up.

Dejected and feeling sorry for myself from my last unsuccessful audition I drove to work, the sharp, “Thank you. Next!” barked by the casting director still rang in my ears. She hadn’t even bothered to look up at me during my brief 20 seconds of audition.

Depressed and in a funk Linda Ronstadt’s “Hurt So Bad” kept me company as I drove along the 101 Freeway back home.

Finally home I slept fitfully, worried about money and my dissolving dreams of being a movie star.

The next morning I woke to the sound of hard and insistent knocking coming from the downstairs front door. Still groggy from sleep it took me a few seconds to realize the angry rapping at the door was most likely my friends from Fridays who’d offered me a day at the beach. My friends Amy and Tiffany, also waitresses at Fridays were picking me up at 10. They must have been very upset as the pounding on the door and rapid ringing of our doorbell escalated in intensity.

I ran downstairs and yanked the door open to reveal Amy looking quite cross.

“Didn’t you hear us knocking and ringing?” Amy demanded impatiently. “Hurry and get ready or we’re going to leave you here!”

I bolted back upstairs and changed into an old bikini from my earlier Oklahoma days, the only one I owned. It didn’t fit well, being too small and tight for my now more mature body. The bottoms were skin-tight against my ass and hips. My breasts had grown since I bought it, my cleavage now almost spilling out. I could clearly see side boob. I stared hard at my image in the mirror.

It’s either wear this or wear my clothes to the beach. There’s no other option.

I hesitated for a moment, then ran and grabbed my purse, a cover-up, my towel, lotion and sunglasses and sprinted down the stairs and out the door.

The tinny radio In Amy’s Convertible Bug blared, “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar as we lurched and twisted down Topanga Canyon. We all sang with the tune at the top of our lungs, laughing and waiving our arms in the air. It felt good to feel the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.

On Santa Monica beach we laid our towels down close to a lifeguard station. Apparently, Amy had been here before and had the hots for the cute lifeguard. She had been bragging about him on the way there. And she wasn’t lying. He had a deep, beautiful tan, short blond hair, a perfect chest, washboard abs and long, thick legs. It didn’t hurt at all that he also sported a strong chin with a dazzling-cute dimple.