Showing posts with label the Nursery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the Nursery. Show all posts

Friday, February 6, 2026

Meeting Sharon 1978 - The Nursery

The first time I ever saw Sharon she was not physically in the movie theater, but up on silver screen of a Times Square theater fellating the pizza boy’s cock, while doggie styling the man acting as her husband. Neither of the men were particularly attractive, probably so the audience might identify with them, however Sharon was a young brunette with a lithe acrobat’s body. Her ass was perfectly curved and her belly pouting with the right amount of fat. Her breasts were small. Almost like a boy. Once the action started, she became an animal unleashed on mankind. 

It was obvious neither man on the screen had any idea what to do with her and the director was also at a loss with this vixen, so she released the pizza boy’s cock and looked over her shoulder at the camera, a pink tongue snaked out to lick at cock-bruised lips, then her hand reached back to pull apart her asscheeks to provide the cameraman a better shot at the stiff penis rooting her vagina. She moaned, “Oh, yeah, fuck me, baby!” then dropped her head down onto the pizza boy’s cock, until the head lodged in her gullet. 

It wasn’t a deep throat, but I had my zipper down and cock in hand mimicking each thrust of the man from behind. Every man in the theater came together, as the pizza boy spattered the brunette’s face with a load of cum and her ‘husband’ blew his wad over her flawless ass.   

After leaving the theater I searched the porno shops for any photos of this slut, but found none. I asked the clerk overlooking the aisle, if he had any glossy mags with her and he sadly shook his head. “I know exactly who you’re talking about. I got nothing. That’s her first film, but trust me we ain’t seen the last of her yet.”  

Since the porno industry was centered in LA, I figured she was never coming to New York. A wraith in my fantasies and dreams.

Three weeks later I was playing the SLASH pinball machine at the Nursery, an after-hour club in the East Village. My fingers twitched over the buttons and my hip banged the machine, so the ball defied gravity beyond any of Newton’s laws. The score fast approached ‘best ever’, then someone bumped into the side and tilted the machine. I turned to the right, ready to swear, then my mouth went numb upon seeing the brunette in the shag-cut from the movie. 

Her lingerie barely hid any skin and she appeared to have just fucked her way through the entire bar. Stiletto heels gave her another three inches of height and she regarded at me imperiously, as she asked, “What are you looking at?”

“You t-t-tilted the machine,” I stammered, but before I could tell her how much I enjoyed her film, she snapped her fingers loud enough to be heard over the Ramones and two gnarly bikers grabbed me by the arms. In less than three seconds I found myself out on the sidewalk, exiled from Eve. 

Several thieves lurked in the shadows, ready to pounce on any hapless drunk. I scrambled to my feet to show that I was not worth the trouble. Skanky whores lined Third Avenue and junkies popped into the fleabag hotels for a quick shot. The arctic wind sent a shiver through my body. I only wore a thin leather jacket, a tee shirt, and torn jeans. I didn’t care, because I was

She only took a minute to come out alone. A tight-high rabbit fur coat covered her near-naked body. A gust of chilled wind blew the bangs off her face. Herr eyes coldly examine me before she stepped forward, opening her coat and pressing her fatless body to me. Her teeth nipped at my ear, before she asked breathlessly, “Well, where we going?”

“If it was warmer, I’d fuck you right here in the street.” I looked across the street to the Victor Hotel. It was a flophouse, but close. She smiled lewdly, then commented, “How romantic!”

“You have a problem with it?” I asked, fingering her ingrown nipples to erection.The style with which her hand rubbed my crotch told me neither of us should confuse this moment with love. We exchnaged no words crossing the avenue or climbing the hotel’s creaking stairs to room 33. The 40-watt bulb hanging from the ceiling was enough to light the room, as she shrugged off the coat. 

Standing with her legs spread and arms akimbo she let me admire her body for several seconds before dropping to her knees. Her hands expertly undid my zipper and withdrew my iron-hard cock. With one hand gripping my balls the actress’ mouth slithered onto my shaft like a snake swallowing its prey, proving the scene in the film had not depended on special effects. Her tongue flickered under my cock’s throbbing vein, while her hands wantonly rubbed that nether area behind my balls. Normally I would have shot right then, but she fell back onto the floor, then crawled onto the soiled bed. 

 I fingered her ingrown nipples to erection.

“Get naked!” the brunette commanded, then swiftly undid her bra and slipped out of her panties. Her thighs spread and she reached down to her vagina with both hands, so the fingertips peeled back her labia to reveal a wet slick cunt. 

My jacket hit the floor first, then I threw my tee shirt in the corner. My pants only came down to my knees, as I shuffled across the dusty floor to the bed. Kneeling between her legs, my tongue torpedoed into her warm wetness, as my hands wrestled off my boots and jeans. 

“Suck on my asshole!” She pleaded, as her middle fingers desperately scratched at her thickening clit. The tip of my tongue ricocheted off the sides of her inner ass before striking at her wrinkled asshole. Each time I pressed the flat of my tongue to the coppery pucker, the muscle flexed in jerks. Her panting became more frenzied, as my tongue probed through her sphincter like a harpoon.

Thinking she needed something more inside, I enlisted my thumb for his anal expedition, only to have her knock my hand away.  I couldn’t argue and lapped at her now clean asshole, until she shivered uncontrollably and her free hand seized my hair to pull my face forward. He fingers were a blur on her clit, as she called out, “Oh, yeah, fuck! FUCK! FUCCCCCK!!!”

Her spine arched and labia throbbed, as she came with a vengeance. I half-expected her to spend some time graining her breath, yet she rolled onto her stomach and begged, “Fuck me with your cock! Fuck me like a mercenary!”

Both her hands gripped her ass apart, so there was no mistaking where she wanted my cock. I stabbed forward and buried my cock, till the head rammed against her cervix. I had never felt so big and she told me the same, cooing, “Oh, baby, it’s so big. Split me in half with that log. It hurts so good!”

I fucked her like a barbarian fucking a nun who had been praying for Jesus’ violation all her life. Her pussy juice dripped from her cunt and formed a creamy froth around my shaft, as the walls of her steaming hole clamped on my member like we were two dogs in heat. The room stunk of her come and I bucked into her hole, as she screamed, “Fuck me harder!”

The guest in the next room banged on the wall, as I rammed in and out, until a geyser of sperm boiled out of my balls and erupted from my cock into her cunt. She moaned slavishly, as I milked the last shutters of pleasure from my orgasm. 

When I rolled onto my side, my heart pounding, my skin sheeted with sweat, and my lungs sucked of any air, she slithered down the bed to slurp up every trace of our mutual slime on my cock and balls. Finished she licked her lips, then stuck a finger into her slit. Bringing the tip to my lips, I sucked the ooze from her digit. She kissed me with cum-stained lips and said, “You’re sweet. My name’s Sharon.”

“I know. I saw your film ABDUCTION OF JOY.” I groaned, as her fingers stroked my penis back to hardness.   

"How was I."

“You were great.” I squirmed, as she pinched my nipple. I returned the favor to her once-again inverted nipple, and she squealed, “I bet you say that to all the girls in fuck films.”

“Yeah, all the time.” I wished it was true, but she was the only woman I had ever met who fucked on film. We fucked two more times before I crashed out between her thighs. When I woke, Sharon was dressed and at the door. I asked, “Where you going?”

She posed like a tart, sticking out her ass before throwing on her coat. 

“You need any money for a taxi?” I sleepily reached for my jeans, which seemed farther from the bed than I remembered.

“No, I’m good. We’ll see you around.” Sharon blew me a kiss and the door slammed shut before I could ask for her telephone number. I lay back in bed, then picked up my Levis. Going through the pockets I discovered why she hadn’t needed taxi fare. Sharon had ripped me off for every dollar and penny. Pulling on my jeans and boots, I swore madly, then ran out into the street, but the only person in sight was an old wino crumpled on the corner of East 19th Street. 

Across the street the dregs of the evening stumbled out of the after-hours club. I supposed I could have gone inside to see, if Sharon was there, but confronting her in a drug-maddened den of iniquity might prove a little more than dangerous to my health. She had fucked me and fucked me good, so I called it a night and walked home, thinking that she had gotten what she deserved. Next time it would be vice versa and next time wasn’t a long time coming.

Tuesday, November 26, 2024

Pin Ball At the Nursery - 1977

how Sharon Mitchell and I became friends pinball at the Nursery 1977.

Friday, March 26, 2021

MY LIFE WITH A PORNO STARLET #1 by Peter Nolan Smith

NEW YORK 1978

That winter I entered the Victory Theater on 42nd Street to view THE VIOLATION OF CLAUDIA. A friend had recommended the hour-long XXX film about a housewife lured into prostitution, saying, "There's not much of a story, but the skinny actress has no breasts just how you like your women. A little boyish."

I sat in the middle of the theater. There wasn't much of an audience. The lights went down and my friend was right about the slender brunette with the shag cut. Sharon Mitchell performed sex acts with a wanton enthusiasm set ablaze by the director saying, "Lights, camera, action."

None of the men on the screen could handle her succubus. The director was so transfixed by her libertine performance that he only shot one take. Sherri understood the limited width of the camera’s vision and remained within frame for seven solid minutes.

Releasing Jamie Gillis' cock, she glanced over her shoulder at the camera. A pink tongue licked at bruised lips, then her hands parted her asscheeks and Sharon moaned, “Oh, yeah, fuck me, baby!”

I had my zipper down and cock in hand mimicking Jamie Gillis' each thrust. Every man in the theater stroked in unison like the Harvard crew and we arrived at the finish line seconds ahead of the actor spattering the money shot over her flawless ass.

After leaving the theater I unsuccessfully searched the porno shops for any magazines featuring Sharon Mitchell. A middle-aged clerk sadly shook his head.

“I know exactly who you’re talking about. I got nothing. That’s her first film, but trust me we ain’t seen the last of her yet.”

Since the porno industry was centered in LA, I figured my chances of meeting the actress were nil.

I was dead wrong.

Three weeks later I was playing the pinball at the Nursery, an after-hour club in the East Village. My fingers twitched over the buttons and my hip banged SLASH, as the ball defied Newton’s Law on Gravity and the numbers whirled on scoreboard. I was heading toward history, then someone bumped into the pinball machine to tilt my game 50,000 short of Highest Score.

I turned to the right, fists clenched, but my anger evaporated upon seeing a miracle.

Sharon Mitchell was the offender.

“You____” Her flimsy lingerie hid little skin and stiletto heels gave her another three inches of height, as she imperiously asked, “What are you looking at?”

“You t-t-tilted the machine,” I stuttered, but before I could tell her how much I enjoyed her film, she snapped her fingers loud enough to be heard over the Ramones and two gnarly Hell's Angels tossed me onto the sidewalk.

Adam, exiled from Eden and Eve.

Several thieves lurked in the shadows, ready to pounce on a hapless drunk. I scrambled to my feet to show that I was not worth the trouble. Skanky whores lined Third Avenue and junkies popped into the fleabag hotels for a quick shot. The arctic wind sent a shiver through my body, for I was wearing a thin leather jacket, a tee shirt, and torn jeans. Snow drifted in the air.

I didn’t care about the cold, for Sharon exited a five seconds later.

Alone.

A tight-high rabbit fur coat covered her near-naked body. A gust of chilled wind blew the bangs off her face. She stepped forward and pressed her fatless body against mine.

“Well, where we going?”

I looked across the street to the Victor Hotel. It was a flophouse, but close. She smiled lewdly, “How romantic!”

“You have a problem with it?” I asked, twirling her ingrown nipples to erection.

“If it was warmer, I’d fuck you right here in the street.” Her hand crudely rubbed my crotch, telling me neither of us should confuse this moment with love. We didn’t speak crossing the avenue or climbing the hotel’s creaking stairs to room 33. The 40-watt bulb hanging from the ceiling was enough light for the sordid room

Sharon shrugged off the coat and dropped dropped to her knees. Her hands expertly undid my zipper and withdrew my iron-hard cock. One hand gripped my balls. Hermouth slithered onto my shaft like a snake swallowing its prey, proving the scene in the film had not depended on special effects. Normally I would have shot a load right then, but she fell back onto the soiled bed.

“Get naked!” the brunette commanded, then swiftly stripped off her bra and slipped out of her panties. Her hands reached down to her vagina.

My jacket hit the floor. I threw my tee shirt in the corner. My pants dropped down to my knees and I shuffled across the dusty floor to the bed. Kneeling between her legs, I wrestled off my boots and jeans.

“Suck me!”

Someone had said that line recently. I didn't care who. I was living a dream.

My tongue ricocheted off her flesh. Each time I pressed the flat of my tongue to the coppery pucker, her body flexed in jerks. “Oh, yeah, suck it! Suck, my dirty asshole! Only your tongue. That’s all I need.”

Every word echoed from a recent memory and I lapped at her asshole. Her fingers blurred on her clit, as she called out, “Oh, yeah, fuck! FUCK! FUCCCCCK!!!”

I had heard those words before too.

Her back arched with her spine cracking in unison and she came with a vengeance. I half-expected her to spend some time regaining her breath, instead she rolled onto her stomach and begged, “Fuck me like a mercenary!”

That phrase also sounded like deja vu.

I stabbed forward and buried my cock, till the head reached her cervix. I had never felt so big and she moaned, “Oh, yeah, fuck me, baby!”

It all came to me at once. That line came from THE ABDUCTION OF CLAUDIA. In fact every word out of her lips was from that movie.

I looked for a movie camera, but there was only a cheap lightbulb in the room. I didn't care if it was all an act and fucked, until a geyser of sperm boiled from the soul of my balls. She sighed slavishly, as my lungs suck air and my heart pounded in my chest. She slithered next to me and whispered “You’re sweet. My name’s Sharon.”

“I know. I saw your film ABDUCTION OF CLAUDIA.You were great.” I squirmed, as she pinched my nipple. I returned the favor, as she squealed, “I bet you say that to all the girls in fuck films.”

“Yeah, all the time.” I wished it was true, but she was the only woman I had ever met who performed sex on film. We fucked two more times before I crashed out between her thighs. When I woke, Sharon was dressed and at the door. I asked, “Where you going?”

“I got to shoot a film.” She posed like a tart, sticking out her ass before throwing on her coat.

“You need any money for a taxi?” I sleepily reached for my jeans, which seemed farther from the bed than I remembered.

“No, I’m good. We’ll see you around.” Sherri blew me a kiss and the door slammed shut before I could ask for her telephone number. I lay back in bed, then picked up my Levis. Going through the pockets I discovered why she hadn’t needed taxi fare. Sherri had ripped me off for every dollar.

Almost $20. Pulling on my jeans and boots, I swore madly, then ran out into the street and up the 3rd Avenue. The winter sun was coming up over Brooklyn and good citizens were walking to subway. They took one look at me and hurried on their way. Across the street the dregs of the evening were stumbling out of The Nursery.

I supposed I could have gone inside to find her, but confronting Sharon in a drug-maddened den of iniquity was more than dangerous to my health. She had fucked me and fucked me good, so I called it a night and walked home, thinking that she had gotten what she deserved. Next time I would have to make sure it was vice versa and next time wasn’t a long time coming, wasn’t a long time coming, because Sharon was like me.

We got around.