Baywatch Secrets Ch. 09: Gigi's Gambit

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Trouble comes knocking even in the arms of a Hadid sister.
4.9k words
4.5
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Part 9 of the 10 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 04/05/2016
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txfan
txfan
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5000 words. Tags: baywatch, victoria's secret, Carmen Electra, Alessandra Ambrosio, Stacy Kamano, Gigi Hadid, Brande Roderick, double blowjob, trailer sex, Hollywood

This chapter has benefited greatly from editing by my "picador", Nick. Apologies for the long absence as life got in the way.

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This is the ninth in an open ended "celeb harem" story putting together two of the greatest franchises known to Man, Baywatch and the Victoria's Secret Angels, and the first in a mini trilogy covering the filming of the series' pilot episode. Outfits and references are based on real life look-books and clips.

A month has passed since the epic showdown; Victoria's Secret was forced to close their Swim business, and with all the key players lined up the Baywatch Secrets pilot episode has begun shooting. Things are looking up for our hero...

********************

Carmen Electra slowly and sensuously trailed a serious of tender kisses along Alessandra Ambrosio's delicate neck, stopping only when she reached the Brazilian supermodel's rich, painted lips. Ale's eyes were fixed firmly shut, but she still somehow knew exactly when to dip her head and reciprocate Carmen's affections. As the two women's tongues danced together in a wickedly luxurious French kiss, Carmen traced her hands down Ale, from her long straight hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, to the iconic red swimsuit straps on her shoulders. Alessandra shuddered, but didn't resist as Carmen gently slid both straps down, and even began to clumsily respond by fumbling around with the buttons on Carmen's unfamiliar uniform. As Ale's swimsuit dropped down to her waist, exposing her bronze, tanned breasts, Carmen sunk to her knees and attacked Ale's engorged nipples with her expert tongue.

Just as Ale gasped at the warm, wet, welcome, I cleared my throat.

The sapphic pairing glanced over at me, and laughed. I was slumped in a black, leather, executive swivel chair, both sitting down and standing fully to attention at the same time. Carmen unzipped her ridiculously short skirt and crawled over to me, eyefucking the hell out of me as she did so. Through my red shorts, she gently nuzzled my erection with her sculpted - plastically? - nose, then tilted her head at Alessandra, as if to compel her to do the same. With a trancelike expression, Ale rose to her feet, and skillfully eased her swimsuit from her body to the floor, the accented 'a' logo faintly visible on the inside of the fabric.

I barely had time to appreciate the full splendor of Ale's full frontal before she was on her knees next to Carmen, clawing down the lining of my shorts. I had tucked my cock up in my waistband so, when released it sprung out like the arm of a catapult and hit Carmen in that perfect nose. Carmen wrapped a slender hand around the base of my shaft, pulling back the foreskin just a fraction. I moaned as the dirty blonde sex bomb took the head of my cock into her inviting mouth, and then popped me out and motioned for Ale to follow suit. Ale followed the script to the letter and more, wrapping her lips around my cock and swirling her dainty tongue around the sensitive head, causing me to shudder. Carmen, meanwhile, went to town on my lucky shaft, coating every inch of it in a warm jacket of celebrity saliva, staring up at me with her electric blue eyes as she diligently worked me over. And when Carmen eventually concentrated her lewd endeavors on the left hand side of my shaft, Ale slurped off me loudly and joined her on the other side. I groaned as the talented pair synced up their rhythms, their lips and tongues sliding up and down the entire length of my shaft, effectively jerking me off. On my left, one of the most iconic Baywatch stars. On my right, the longest serving Victoria's Secret Angel. A perfect representation of the project that had now taken over my work life (and sex life).

Thankfully, on a scale of 1 to 10, I was probably at an 11 in terms of horniness this time. I was eventually tipped over the edge when Carmen started jerking me off and Ale took my heavy balls into her mouth and began teasingly rolling them around on her tongue. I bucked my hips and gasped as thick ropes of semen shot all over Carmen's face, breasts and uniform for what seemed like hours. My balls must have shriveled up with all the fucking I had been doing for this, but I pumped out everything I could.

"Fuck me, before today, I never imagined I would be cumming on my new boss' face," I panted.

Carmen grinned, and drew Ale into a deep, luxurious kiss. Fresh semen, streamed from Carmen's mouth into Ale's as they sloppily made out, creamy stalactites of sperm clinging to each girls' chins and slowly drip-dripping onto their firm breasts.

"Well, Captain Darius, if you're initiating all your lieutenants this way, I might have to make the trip down from HQ way more often." said Carmen as Ale idly twisted lone traces of sperm around her delicate fingers and scooped them into her mouth like a bear tucking into honey.

"CUT! PRINT!" Jeremy Podeswa's voice broke our scene, and the studio lights went on. The background rumble of the skeleton crew, muted for the shooting, resumed in earnest as assistants rolled back the cameras and the script supervisor scribbled hurriedly in her notes. I tucked my cock back in and helped Ale and Carmen up as the grinning director came over with fresh towels for the girls.

"How was it? Do we need another take?" Ale asked anxiously, as she wrapped herself up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, take a bow, I think we just made TV history," said Jeremy. His hand swung as though to high-five mine, but rapidly thought better of it and settled for gingerly patting me on the back instead. "People are going to forget that Daddario girl was even in True Detective."

"Were the people at Vinyl -really- planning that for Season 2?" Carmen asked him, toweling globlets of fast drying semen out of her hair.

Jeremy shrugged. "Let's just say HBO is much happier that you agreed to do the first blowjob in TV history for the pilot of Baywatch Secrets. And personally I'd much rather be working with you in this than coaxing some kind of performance out of Olivia to push up a bunch of lame ratings. -This- is the Emmy show, darlin'."

Carmen nodded, her Hollywood legacy very much on her mind. Ale shook her out of it. "Let's hit the showers... Commander!"

As the ladies headed off, Jeremy and I were joined by Neil Strauss. The writer had had to sit out the whole thing. "Just for the record," he said, "I'm still pissed IN Talent insisted on a skeleton crew for this. It's not like Alessandra's never done nudity before!"

I chuckled. "Seriously, man? Nudity's one thing, but she's just had my cock stuffed down her throat and can probably still taste my cum in her mouth. That's pretty fucking extreme. 'Sides, I feel like that protection was for me more than anything else."

"Like you have anything to be shy about?" Neil waved an arm at the ebbing hard-on in my shorts. "Anyway, I should be a part of the skeleton crew, right? I wrote the damn thing!"

Jeremy, ever the professional, stepped in to calm him down. "You've seen plenty in your day, Neil. Anyway it was a helluva cold open, best I've ever done for sure."

"Guys?" Jason Knight was waving at us from the entrance of the set. I'd found him so helpful in the past few months that I'd gotten HBO to promote him to executive producer alongside me. "You gonna argue all fucking afternoon? Get to the sweatbox, first dailies are done. Wanna see the opening credits?"

We crowded into the tiny edit suite affectionately referred to as the "sweatbox", due to the banks of screens and computers that worked up waves of heat, which the meagre air conditioning was woefully underprepared for. Our editor and sound guy gave us weak, sweaty smiles as Neil closed the door behind him and darkened the room.

"Roll it." Jason said. Technically, cutting together the dailies was the director's job, but Jason had begged to make a first draft of the opening credits for the team he and I had meticulously cast.

"SOME PEOPLE STA-AND IN THE DARKNESS..." The iconic Baywatch theme song cranked up, and macro shots of the beach and babes flashed on the screen before settling on the male cast. I cringed as I spotted myself striding beside the -much- younger, and ripped lifeguards played by Michael B. Jordan, Taylor Lautner, and Richard Madden. I felt like a firm mat of chest hair was required to play male Baywatch Captains, and I was no David Hasselhoff.

"We're really going with the old theme?" Jeremy asked Jason. "I thought there were issues with that?"

The question went unanswered and we stopped caring as the credits began to introduce the female cast, starting with Brande and Stacy as Leigh Dyer and Kekoa Tanaka from the old show, then moving to Ale and Lily as my Lieutenants, and then to Stella, Romee, Martha, and Jasmine as the remainder of Orange County Lifeguard Service. We would have plenty of guest stars like Carmen Electra and Bar Rafaeli on the show but I was glad that our series regulars were a collection of some of the finest looking women on Earth.

Neil whistled. "I gotta say... with talent like that, it makes it so much easier to get the juices flowing. Writing-wise, I mean." Our editor, characteristically mute, nodded in agreement. I was sure he'd had worse jobs than looking at swimsuit-clad supermodels all day.

We had just finished reviewing the slow-mo run footage when the door to the sweatbox slammed open, revealing the familiar silhouette of a short, busty Asian woman in a crop top and jeans. "So someone said you were running the dailies and didn't invite the talent?"

I shielded my eyes as my pupils adjusted to the light. "Well the sweatbox is kind of a small room, Stace..."

Stacy took a look at our screen, paused on a shot of Martha and Jasmine giving Michael B Jordan mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. "Mike - can I have a word with you?"

I patted Jason on the back, expressing my thanks for great work, and stepped out of the door that Stacy held open for me. I could -feel- Neil mentally making whiplash noises as I left.

"What's up, Stace?" I asked once we were alone, and moved to kiss her. Stacy didn't reply, and frostily took my kiss on her cheek. Her arms were folded across her chest expressing her disapproval, although the animal part of my brain just cheered as it enhanced her cleavage.

Something was definitely up.

"Look, we've known each other for 16 years, we've always been able to talk about anything. What's going on?" I pressed.

"You tell me, Mike. Six guys in there leering over girls in skimpy swimsuits. You wanna -guess- my problem?"

"Seriously? -That's- your problem? What do you think the original show was? Berk and Bonann and Hoff?"

Stacy stopped me with a finger on my lips. "That's exactly it, Mike. It's 2016. I thought we were updating, not rehashing."

I batted away her finger, and wrapped my arms around her body to pull her close. "Stace, you just need to trust me. We know what we're doing here."

"And who's 'we'?" said Stacy, pulling away from me "It certainly doesn't seem to include me. Why am I not an EP instead of Jason fucking Knight? Wasn't this whole thing my idea?"

I sighed. "Look, HBO wants people with experience-"

"Oh, fuck you, Mike. Like all -your- extensive experience you mean? Fuck you. A month ago you could barely remember what a contract looked like, let alone get anyone to actually sign one! And where's the DC angle gone? Remember you were going call up Jason and tie this in to the Justice League movies?"

"Well, that's on Jason, not me. He broke bread with the Warner Brothers guys and they never got back to us-"

"Whatever, Mike, that's not the thing that worries me the most anyway."

"And that would be?"

"Porn."

"What about it?" I was genuinely confused by her train of thought.

"Your show, you idiot. Look at your daily! This was all supposed to be Agents of Shield slash Baywatch slash Victoria's Secret, and then you meet Jason and now all you're making is porn. You just sat in a chair and had two women, talented, accomplished women, crawl on their knees and suck you off and that's TV?"

"Stace, no, no, no, no, no. This isn't porn, this is HBO. There's a trend line, okay? And the trend is for these kinds of shows becoming more and more graphic. Honestly, this isn't porn, it's...it's the next step."

"Well there's a line, Mike, and you crossed it the minute you emptied the contents of your sweaty balls all over Carmen's face."

Maybe I was missing something here. "Stace...you're not jealous?"

The slap came from nowhere. For such a small woman, Stacy packed a surprising amount of power in her forearms. I winced as it smarted.

"Mike, I love you, but you're a fucking idiot. I shared you with Brande. I helped you seduce Ale. I started a phone sex threeway with you and Lily. I come home to you and you bring some hot young thing into our bed. And you think I'm the jealous type??"

Wait... Did she just use the L word?

"I didn't mean-" I began, but Stacy wasn't done. "Not everything is about you, Mike! Wake the fuck up! You saw the news, Victoria's Secret shut down the swim business. 500 million dollars, gone. Just like that."

"Good," I said with feeling, "that Baratta bitch was abusing her models, she's lucky those Angels we -liberated- aren't suing her ass off."

"Think, Mike, think! WHY do you think VS shut down the -entire- swim business overnight?"

"Because I completely embarrassed them at their own show and they can never do a VS Swim show again?"

"Fucking hell. Again everything is centered around you? No, Mike, they couldn't give two shits who you are. They lost six Angels that night. Think about it: Each Angel is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. VS will do anything to get them back. I repeat for emphasis. Anything."

I thought back to the determined face of Ed Razek. "But they never got our contracts. As far as our Angels" - I checked myself - "our -actors- are concerned, as long as they don't talk..."

"I'm telling you, don't underestimate the enemy. Our whole show is premised on this new generation of girls. But so was theirs."

I put my hands up, conceding defeat. "Okay, okay. Point taken, I'll be more careful in future. So, at the risk of being violently assaulted again, is there anything else eating you?"

"Yeah, now you mention it. I don't like what Neil did to my character." said Stacy, her glare softening.

Not this again. "Stace, I don't get your problem with this. After that whole Hawaiian wedding thing what, 13 years ago? You think anyone's gonna buy that Kekoa and JD just lived happily ever after?"

"My Kekoa would absolutely leave Hawaii if her husband got promoted to Captain of the OC Lifeguards. Just saying."

"Look, at least having Kekoa and Leigh run the training center means we still get to go to Hawaii every so often. That's our big link to Hawaii. And you're the vital anchor to that." I conveniently omitted mentioning the tax credits HBO was keenly focused on.

"I know. And that's great. It's just... I'm supposed to be a series regular and it feels like I'm being made a side character to give more screen time to those hot, young supermodels."

I kissed her forehead, and lifted her chin. "K, look at me. I will never let that happen." As she looked up at me, her lips parting ever so slightly, my phone buzzed.

Jason's text read: "Gguest at your trailer". The spelling wasn't an accident.

Stacy saw it too. "Who's your guest?"

I shrugged, and let Stacy go. "Guess I'll go find out."

"It's her, isn't it?" If Stacy were a cat, her hackles would literally be rising right now. "Tell me it isn't her."

"I don't know, alright? I thought you weren't the jealous type?"

Stacy looked away. I tried to think of a better way to end the conversation, or even to address the bombshell she had dropped in the middle of her rant. But some things are better left unsaid if the timing isn't right. I turned my back, and left.

HBO's policy was to only spring for Star Waggons for big hit shows. My "trailer" really wasn't much more than a converted RV, but it was mine. The tiny living room had a little kitchenette, a TV and sofa set and a makeup area. I barely used any of it. Except for this one thing...

"In here," a voice called from the half open bedroom door. My cock hardening in anticipation, I walked up and nudged it open.

Gigi Hadid lay sideways on my bed, dressed in an extremely skimpy pink bikini. Her massive natural breasts were barely contained by the fabric, and threatened to pop out as they sagged gently to the side. As much as I hated tearing my eyes away from her chest, I glanced over her firm, curvy ass and toned legs, before looking back to Gigi's sexy, confident smile.

"How's this for my uniform?" She asked innocently, batting her eyelashes.

I laughed as I got on the bed and straddled her. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to join the lifeguards until you made Angel."

Gigi propped herself up on her elbows and kissed me. "I couldn't wait."

"Well, you're my Angel for now." I kissed her back, sucking on her pouty lips and running my fingers through her wavy golden locks. My erection stabbed at her flat tummy as I pushed her back down on the bed. Her hands ran over my chest and back before reaching down and squeezing my ass. Emboldened, I slid my left hand down Gigi's neck and traced her halter tie down to a tiny triangle of pink. I flicked at her nipple through the bikini top, and Gigi moaned as she stuck her tongue in my mouth.

I paused as a thought came to me. "This isn't from VS, is it?" I asked.

Gigi looked a little disappointed. "What, you don't recognize this? Bell said you fucking loved my SI shoot!"

I had a sudden flashback to one of our hookups where I had mentioned jerking off to one of Gigi's photoshoots. "Let's just say I wasn't expecting you to actually steal a bikini from Sports Illustrated... Besides, you know my lifeguards wear regulation one-pieces, right?"

"Well, shit. I guess I'm gonna have to return this." Gigi looked down at her own boobs, then back at me. "Wanna help me get it off?"

I chuckled at the irrepressible nymph. By way of a reply, I shifted my legs backwards and under Gigi's thighs, dragging my hard-on lower to grind on Gigi's crotch. The sexpot gasped as I dry humped her. As I leaned over her, fully in control of every inch of her incredible body, my eyes were drawn once more to her deep cleavage.

"Oh its coming off, G. But first," I licked my lips, "there's something I've always wanted to do." I bent down, and buried my face between her soft pillows. I licked her chestnut brown skin and nuzzled first her left, then her right breast. I kept alternating faster and faster and made a low rumble, building quickly until I drove the ticklish supermodel to laughter.

"You're such an idiot!" Gigi giggled. "You say that every single time! Are you capable of looking me and NOT thinking about motorboating my boobs?"

"Well," I said, returning to kiss my nubile fuckbuddy, "I can think of a couple other things I wanna do to you..."

Gigi grinned at me, her sapphire blue eyes piercing knowingly into mine. "Roll over. My turn on top."

"Let's get you into something more comfortable first..." I gently kissed and nibbled my way back down her chest, following her heaving bosom down to her freckled waist.

I kissed the sexy little dots next to her bellybutton. "I can't believe VS photoshops these out. I fucking love them there."

Gigi shifted uncomfortably. "Well... It's not just VS, it's every modeling gig I do. Heavy concealer or photoshop. I just did it at the start so I could break into modeling and now everyone thinks my moles must be covered up."

"Well, speaking from personal experience, your fans are gonna love it. I think it makes you ten times sexier." I said, making my way down between her thighs and seeing her crane her head between her boobs to watch me. "Of course... not every fan gets to do this..."

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